Money makes the world go round, and Deng Xunfeng was quick to spend it. After hearing He Zhu’s information, he immediately handed over a small silver ingot. He Zhu’s face lit up like a flower, and he revealed everything he knew. With his directions, they easily found the prostitute’s residence.
Yao Shu looked at the small, mud-gray house with some doubt. “I thought brothels were grand and imposing. At the very least, they should be proper buildings. This mud hut seems far too shabby.”
“In the northern part of the city, the poor gather. They can’t afford expensive entertainment, so there are prostitutes called *wild prostitutes*. Unlike those in brothels, these women are often ordinary wives or widows forced to sell their bodies to survive. They take clients privately, keep the money themselves, and charge low prices. So there’s no unified brothel—they live at home, and either entertain clients there or go to the client’s house.”
Deng Xunfeng, familiar with such matters, explained fluently. But he failed to notice Deng Lingyun’s face growing colder. Even Yao Shu coughed a few times to make him stop.
“Deng Xunfeng, if you put half the effort you spend on such nonsense into studying Confucian classics, you’d already be a fourth- or fifth-rank official.” Deng Lingyun’s glare was sharp as a knife, silencing him instantly.
They pushed open the door. Yao Shu knocked lightly. Soon, a coy voice called out: “Oh my, in broad daylight—who’s come knocking?”
The door opened, and a voluptuous woman appeared. She was indeed attractive.
“Well, well, has the sun risen in the west? What handsome gentlemen have come to see me?”
“Hu Yu, we’re here to ask about Wang Dachun. If you speak honestly, this silver is yours.” Fu Xiujin frowned, stepped back, and pulled several silver ingots from his sleeve, his face clearly saying *keep your distance*.
Yao Shu couldn’t help but laugh. So his aloofness toward women depended on the woman—he hadn’t retreated like this when she leaned close to him.
Money worked its charm. Hu Yu giggled, brought out stools, and eagerly told them to ask whatever they wished. Yao Shu noticed a sachet at her waist, with a pink tassel hanging from it—identical to the one found in the wine jar. She glanced at Fu Xiujin and saw his eyes fixed on it too. He had noticed.
“When was the last time you saw Wang Dachun? Did you know he came into money? Do you know where he moved? And this tassel—did you ever give one to him?”
Fu Xiujin fired off the questions like arrows, clearly unwilling to spend more time here, which made Yao Shu chuckle.
Hu Yu was straightforward—paid to talk, she answered plainly.
“Wang Dachun? The last time I saw him was ten days ago. When he left, he gave me double the usual fee, saying he wouldn’t return, but wanted to support my business. Of course, I knew he struck it rich—he won big at the gambling den, nearly got his legs broken. The night before he left, he came to me. He said he was going back to the countryside, packed his things, and took them to the Yue Lai Inn by the north gate. That night at the inn, he kept me busy all night.”
As she spoke, Hu Yu toyed with the tassel, her eyes wandering between Fu Xiujin and Deng Xunfeng. Deng Xunfeng smiled easily, the picture of a carefree rake. Fu Xiujin, however, sat stiffly, face dark, lips pressed tight.
“As for the tassel, I made them myself. Every client who visits me gets one. Naturally, Wang Dachun had one too.”
That confirmed the tassel in the wine jar belonged to Wang Dachun, further identifying the corpse.
Leaving Hu Yu’s hut, Fu Xiujin immediately ordered the carriage to head to Yue Lai Inn at the north gate. On the way, Yao Shu wondered aloud if the gambling den might be involved. After all, winning big and then leaving—gambling dens weren’t charitable institutions.
Deng Lingyun’s hand rested on her sword hilt, stroking it idly. She gave her verdict: “From my experience on battlefields and border towns, if a gambling den loses money, they deal with the customer before he leaves—sending thugs to settle it. They wouldn’t let him walk away. Once outside, the source of the money becomes unclear, and if officials get involved, the den can’t escape blame. So they wouldn’t wait until Wang Dachun returned to Zhidian Hall, nor involve its staff. That’s not their style.”
“In that case, Hu Yu saw Wang Dachun ten days ago. The shopkeeper said he stopped working eight days ago. So the staff at Zhidian Hall may have been the last to see him.” Fu Xiujin leaned back in the carriage, his perfect jawline making Yao Shu swallow hard.
By the time they reached Yue Lai Inn, it was already past noon. The waiter, hearing they were from the Court looking for Wang Dachun, immediately began complaining.