Two blossoms, each telling its own tale.

Having taken Qiu Huan’s seat, with Yuan Mo and Yuan Qian at her side to keep watch, Miss Duan was thoroughly enjoying herself. As for the Cai Tan Pavilion, it wasn’t entirely a place of frivolous pleasure; all the hostesses—whether they sang, played music, or danced—were there purely to entertain, not to sell themselves. A little flirtation here and there might be tolerated, but if one wanted to become an intimate guest, the girl had to be willing. Still, many self-proclaimed dandies found this very appealing, feeling it suited their refined tastes and made them seem elegant and sophisticated!

Thus, girls like Duan Yunhe and Yuan Qian were no longer unusual here; the hostesses didn’t make a fuss about it and were even happy to cater to them. After all, it was still about making money, and being with a woman meant no risk of unwanted advances—only slightly less in the way of tips. But nowadays, most of the hostesses in the room gravitated toward these two not because of that.

After all, the women here weren’t exactly above reproach; saying they preferred female guests was only relative to those who were fat, ugly, disrespectful, or crude. Yet now, sitting with Duan Yunhe and Yuan Qian was a tall, handsome, athletic young gentleman—and with such a fine person around, the two girls had been completely ignored before. Only Yuan Mo, ever oblivious to social niceties, would shoot a cold glare at anyone who tried to get too close. If someone persisted despite the glare, he’d simply snap a curt word and send them away, leaving the private room in an awkward silence.

Thankfully, Duan Yunhe kept cracking jokes and bantering with the hostesses, breaking the ice. The girls realized this dark-clad young man didn’t appreciate being closely attended to. Two others, unwilling to give up, still didn’t dare approach directly; instead, they quietly offered more wine, which Yuan Mo tacitly accepted.

Behind the silk curtain, a graceful woman was playing “Autumn Moon over the Han Palace.” Unfortunately, the only one truly enjoying it was Duan Yunhe, who knew nothing of music, while Yuan Mo and Yuan Qian were both worried about their master’s safety. Yuan Mo especially feared that Hui Yuan might, as Duan Yunhe had said, strike out and hurt someone—and he regretted having followed Qiu Huan’s advice to let her attend alone. With such a priceless performance going on, it felt like playing the lute to a cow.

After sitting idly for over an hour, Yuan Mo grew increasingly anxious as Qiu Huan still hadn’t returned, nearly unable to contain himself. Just then, a commotion broke out outside the door—as if someone were trying to force their way in. With Qiu Huan absent, Yuan Mo was the one in charge. He loved peace and quiet and never liked places like this anyway; now, already agitated, he frowned upon hearing the noise and rose to investigate.

To his surprise, it was an old acquaintance—the same Wang Laohu who had brazenly abducted a woman during the day—standing boldly outside, while Zhang Mama from the Cai Tan Pavilion was desperately trying to stop him.

“Miss Dong Qing is currently entertaining guests and can’t come out. How about I bring you Miss Ban Xia instead? She plays the pipa just as well as Dong Qing plays the guqin—you know that yourself!”

“I don’t care!” Wang Laohu spoke, his breath reeking of alcohol, swaying unsteadily. When others tried to steady him, he pushed them away, adopting a thuggish attitude. “Today, I’m demanding Dong Qing to serve me—no one else! What? You’re saying that little Dong Qing is playing music for someone else now? Very well—bring that person out here! I want to see who dares argue with me!”

“This…” Zhang Mama looked troubled, her eyes darting around. Just then, she caught sight of Yuan Mo opening the door and stepping out. Judging by his demeanor, he didn’t seem like the type to cause trouble, so she hurried over: “Young Master, this Mr. Wang insists on having Miss Dong Qing play for him. Could you…?”

Yuan Mo turned his head away in disgust. Whether it was a bully like Wang Laohu who preyed on women or a flashy madam like Zhang Mama, he had no desire to engage with either. Back at the teahouse, when Wang Laohu had upset Qiu Huan, Yuan Mo had already considered looking into whether the man had a wife and children—if he was single, he’d simply take action. Yet just half a day later, here he was again, causing nothing but aggravation.

But while others might not realize it, Yuan Mo knew full well that the Cai Tan Pavilion belonged to the Tonglou. Killing someone right here wouldn’t just earn him Qiu Huan’s wrath when he returned—it would also damage the reputation of his own establishment. Naturally, that was out of the question. On the other hand, Yuan Mo wasn’t about to waste time arguing with a drunkard, so he figured he’d simply have the madam escort Miss Dong Qing away. After all, Wang Laohu wouldn’t stay happy for long anyway.

Just as he was about to speak, a woman’s sweet cry suddenly rang out from inside the room, followed by the familiar sound of something slicing through the air, making his eyelids twitch.

“You lecher! How dare you show your face again!” Duan Yunhe stood tall, whip in hand, radiating righteous indignation. Yet she was dressed as a man, her voice clear and melodious—immediately revealing her as a woman, which felt rather odd.

Yuan Qian pointed silently at the seat where Miss Duan had been sitting, signaling that there was a reason she hadn’t managed to hold her back. Yuan Mo glanced in that direction and saw stacks of wine cups on the table, each pile nearly waist-high—this was just what hadn’t been cleared away yet. His expression darkened instantly: so now she was drunk and acting out?!

Upon closer inspection, Duan Yunhe did indeed have a faint blush on her cheeks and was breathing heavily. Someone trained in martial arts wouldn’t normally gasp like that over such a small amount of alcohol, so she couldn’t possibly be completely wasted—she must be merely tipsy. At this point, Yuan Mo found himself somewhat impressed: after all, except when she was cozying up to Qiu Huan, Duan Yunhe was always very mindful of etiquette. To drink so much while sipping slowly—one sip at a time—was no ordinary feat.

Still, compared with her slight intoxication, the guy who’d come to pick a fight was far more drunk. Seeing someone step forward to challenge him, he couldn’t even make out what they were saying and just blurted out, “Who’s this greenhorn kid? Drag him down and beat him!” Then, ignoring everyone’s attempts to stop him, he stumbled straight into the open room, intent on pulling Dong Qing behind the curtain.

End of Chapter 10: The Mist Over the Double-Story Pavilion