What a peculiar old man.

Morning at the Qin-Se Teahouse

They had walked for quite some time before arriving at the famous Qin-Se Teahouse in the capital. The teahouse was renowned for its Eight Beauties, women who performed for the patrons but never served them individually—a distinction that set Qin-Se Teahouse apart. Many scholars and poets would gather here to discuss national affairs and share their innermost thoughts. It was reputed to be the easiest place in the entire city to learn the latest news. They were led to a private room on the second floor. Hui Yue’er had come here in the past disguised as a young man, but today, her status was different. She could only stand by Zhao Chengxian’s side, just like Zheng Hai and Chen Gui. Thinking of this, Yue’er couldn’t help but sigh deeply, “Ah…” What a miserable life a maid leads—may it end soon! She dared not voice her feelings, having already crossed Zhao Chengxian earlier in the street. Today, she had no desire to provoke him again; once or twice a day was quite enough, any more and trouble was sure to follow. After all, a person should be considerate.

Zhao Chengxian heard Yue’er’s sigh and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips. “Little Crescent, you must come here often, don’t you?” he teased, making Yue’er—already downcast—even more disheartened. Yue’er pretended not to hear, choosing instead to listen to Peony play the zither, watch Plum Blossom perform a sword dance, and see Daisy painting nearby. All their names were taken from famous flowers. What Zhao Chengxian found most intolerable was being ignored. He knew Yue’er was embarrassed by her role as his maid, so he sneered and threatened, “Not answering? Then I’ll just ask the owner of the teahouse myself, and while I’m at it, inform him that the only female escort chief of the Radiant Kingdom has become a maid for the Prince of Jun’s household. Wouldn’t that become quite the tale?” He delighted in seeing Hui Yue’er’s indignant expressions—perhaps he was simply tired of being revered and wanted to provoke a bit of resistance. Ah, such is human nature.

Hui Yue’er had no choice but to answer, “Yes, I come here often.” One question, one answer—that was enough. In truth, she was well acquainted with the Eight Beauties, each of whom supported herself through her own efforts. In a world where men were honored and women slighted, they were a rare exception. Naturally, they felt a kindred bond, so it was only fitting that they became friends.

Just as Zhao Chengxian was about to continue his questioning, they heard someone at the next table reciting poetry: “Eight beauties, eight blossoms rare, Peony noble, Rose fair. Plum as scholar, Orchid refined, Lotus serene, Azalea entwined. Cassia’s fragrance, tea’s delight— Which noble house will claim this sight?” The poem cleverly wove the names of the eight extraordinary women, earning admiring glances. Although the verse skirted the line between elegance and the ordinary, it was, at the very least, pleasing to the ear. (Ying Ying: Seems I’m praising myself a bit, but I genuinely think it’s not bad—at least it rhymes, and best of all, I wrote it myself!)

Unconsciously, Hui Yue’er found herself walking over, with Zhao Chengxian following out of curiosity. To their surprise, the poet was a man in his forties—an age that, in ancient times, marked one as an old man, since people typically married young and could be grandparents by their thirties. The old man watched the performance with a contented smile. Zhao Chengxian felt he looked familiar and sat down beside him. “Excuse me, have we met before?” he asked, but couldn’t quite place him.

The old man smiled slightly at Zhao Chengxian and replied, “I am no beauty, young sir—no need for such an introduction,” casting a disdainful glance his way before turning his attention back to the show. Hui Yue’er was secretly delighted to see Zhao Chengxian rebuffed.

Chen Gui, however, shouted sternly at the old man, “Do you not know who this is? How dare you speak to the Prince in such a manner!” He knew when to defend his master’s dignity—he had said nothing when Hui Yue’er embarrassed Zhao Chengxian, sensing that the prince didn’t mind her insolence. Understanding one’s master’s temperament is essential to serving well.

The old man glanced indifferently at Zhao Chengxian. “A prince, is it? And does that mean he can dictate others’ moods?” Zhao Chengxian realized this was no ordinary man—he was a person of significance.

Yue’er thought to herself, What a strange old man—not tall, but certainly bold!

After the performances of Peony and the others concluded, the old man stood and left a parting remark: “If fate allows, we shall meet again.” With that, he departed. Little did Hui Yue’er know that this encounter would one day bring her new opportunities.

Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, and those neither young nor old—quickly shower me with gold medals, red envelopes, and gifts. Do not hold back; let the storm rage even fiercer!