Chapter Eight: The Character for Fortune

(At last, I managed to squeeze into the newcomers' ranking, and as a token of gratitude, here is the third update. Hoping for endurance! Hoping for progress!)

Wang Fu was momentarily taken aback, somewhat perplexed as he asked, “Are you calling me?”

The Daoist bowed and replied, “Indeed.”

Wang Fu’s expression darkened at once. “What do you want?” He had never held any fondness for wandering Daoists or monks, for in his eyes, these people were often synonymous with swindlers.

The Daoist seemed unfazed and said, “I perceive an evil aura swirling around you, an unusual scent. I wanted to ask if you’ve recently encountered anything unclean.”

“Nonsense!” Wang Fu immediately sprang up like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on, exclaiming furiously, “The filthiest thing I’ve come across is you, you stinking Daoist! Sages speak not of monsters and spirits. Don’t try to mystify me, or else I’ll report you to the authorities for spreading superstitious talk and have you doused in black dog’s blood and flogged!”

In the Tian Tong Dynasty, where Confucianism was held in highest esteem, the government kept a strict watch over Daoism and Buddhism. Anyone wishing to become a Daoist or Buddhist monk had to first obtain a letter of acceptance from the temple or monastery, then register with the authorities. Only after verification and approval could one be ordained. Those lacking proper credentials were considered vagrant Daoists or monks, and if caught by the authorities, would be doused in black dog’s blood and flogged.

Hearing this, the Daoist sighed, “How foolish the world is, oblivious even at the brink of death.”

He said nothing more, shook his bell, and turned to leave.

Chen Jianchen, having heard the Daoist speak with such conviction, quickly said, “Brother Futai, why don’t you ask the Daoist to take a look at you?”

Wang Fu scoffed, “What skills could such an alarmist possibly have? All he does is feign menace to frighten people and extort money. Liuxian, I’ve seen plenty of these Daoists before; just drive them away, there’s no need to waste words.”

Chen Jianchen stamped his foot. Though he dared not judge the Daoist’s identity, the man had spoken so assuredly, he didn’t seem to be making baseless claims. He had hoped to seek his advice, but with one encounter, Wang Fu had already driven him off.

Yet Wang Fu’s reaction was quite normal; Chen Jianchen could not blame him. Helpless, he could only bring Wang Fu home, spread out paper, grind ink, and with a talismanic brush wrote a large character “Fortune” for him.

Taking the character, Wang Fu exchanged a few pleasantries, then left, quite satisfied.

Pacing within the house, after much thought, Chen Jianchen finally stepped out and searched the wine tavern for the Daoist from Mount Lao. But the man was nowhere to be found, having vanished in the briefest span of time.

Chen Jianchen felt a sense of loss and disappointment.

...

As for Wang Fu, carrying the “Fortune” character penned by Chen Jianchen, he did not return home but instead made his way into the city of Jiangzhou, arriving at his private residence.

This residence was part of the Wang family’s property, always reserved for Wang Fu’s personal use; now, with his golden chamber hiding a beauty, it was the perfect occasion for it.

Wang Fu and Peach Blossom had fallen for each other at first sight, wholly captivated. Day and night, they indulged in each other’s company, their affection clinging and inseparable. Strangely, whenever Wang Fu lay with Peach Blossom, his vigor would become extraordinary, never flagging, his spear tireless, moving from one delight to the next as if he would never grow weary or bored. Peach Blossom, in turn, was endlessly obedient, yielding to his every whim.

With such a woman, what more could a man desire?

It should be known that with his wives and concubines at home, Wang Fu would surrender after only a few rounds—though he appeared tall and robust, he was in truth only imposing in appearance but lacking in substance. Yet before Peach Blossom, his virility flourished, immensely gratifying his masculine pride.

In his mind, Wang Fu planned to bring Peach Blossom home to meet his parents in a few days and then hold a proper ceremony to make her his concubine. He was not at all worried that his parents would object to him taking in a woman of uncertain origin; as the sole son of the family, his wishes were always met to the fullest.

—Especially now that he had finally achieved his goal of passing the scholar’s exam.

To his delight, Peach Blossom shyly nodded her assent.

Wang Fu was overjoyed. To have such a beautiful and charming concubine by his side—what greater joy could life offer?

Upon entering the courtyard, Peach Blossom hurried out at the sound, greeting him with a formal curtsy. “My lord, you’ve returned…”

She was dressed in a perfectly fitted silk dress, a floral-embroidered jacket draped over her, her whole being radiant, her bearing dazzling and noble—an absolute courtesan among beauties.

At the sound of her coquettish voice, a certain part of Wang Fu’s body immediately stirred, swelling uncomfortably, his heart itching, his nose humming in response.

“Did you get the character?”

“I did.” Wang Fu took out the “Fortune” character written by Chen Jianchen and handed it over. He had learned from Peach Blossom some days ago that she, too, had studied poetry and classics for several years, but after her family fell into ruin and her parents died, she was forced to abandon her studies and take refuge with relatives. This foundation was part of what made Wang Fu see her as his long-sought soulmate. If she had only looks and not learning or manners, she would be lacking.

Peach Blossom took the paper, her eyes bright with anticipation. “So this is the work of that celebrated young Master Chen, famed for his triple firsts at the exams? Let me have a look and feast my eyes.”

She slowly unfolded the red paper.

Buzz!

Suddenly, something uncanny happened. The upright “Fortune” character on the red paper emitted faint rays of light from between the brushstrokes. The glow was so dim that in daylight, an ordinary person would not have noticed.

But Peach Blossom saw it.

For in her eyes, those beams of light became a myriad of sharp needles, flaring up and stabbing toward her, threatening to pierce her through and through, to expose her very essence.

“Ah!”

Peach Blossom cried out involuntarily, hastily letting go of the paper, which fluttered to the ground. She covered her face and rushed into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

This sudden turn happened in a flash. Wang Fu, caught off guard, had no idea what had transpired. He didn’t even think to pick up the fallen character, but hurried into the house and knocked at the door. “Peach Blossom, Peach Blossom, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Inside, there was only silence.

Wang Fu grew even more anxious, feeling as if his very heart was clenched with pain. “Peach Blossom, don’t scare me!”

About a quarter of an hour later, the door finally opened and Peach Blossom emerged, head bowed.

Wang Fu immediately embraced her, concerned. “Peach Blossom, are you all right?”

Peach Blossom’s face was a shade pale, her head lowered, her voice soft and weak. “I don’t know what happened just now—a sudden panic seized me and I was terribly frightened.”

“Oh!” Wang Fu, suspecting nothing, gently patted her delicate back. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”

“My lord, you’re so good to me…” Peach Blossom’s voice was dreamy and magnetic.

Her tone stirred him again, and in an instant his body was once more robust and eager. Enchanted by desire, he failed to notice the complex look in Peach Blossom’s bright eyes—both resentful and fearful—as they fell upon the “Fortune” character lying on the ground.

Her red lips curled slightly and, with a breath, she sent a gust of wind that swept the character out of the courtyard.

“Peach Blossom, let’s go inside. I want…”

Wang Fu murmured, his large hands already slipping restlessly beneath the woman’s dress.