Chapter 48: Carefree in Wu and Yue

Shanyin was the ancient name for Shaoxing, so called because it lay north of Mount Kuaiji; it was a major stronghold in the land of Wu and Yue, renowned for its prosperity through the ages. During the Eastern Jin, it served as the seat of Kuaiji Commandery.

The land of Wu and Yue has always been blessed with exceptional people and natural beauty; heroes and beauties have emerged generation after generation. The women of Shanyin were countless, and the customs of the Jin era were open and free. Unlike the reserved ladies of later times who seldom left their homes, these beauties could be seen everywhere in the streets, displaying the charm of Wu and Yue. Encountering a handsome man, they might even exchange a few flirtatious words.

At this moment, four people were leading their horses through the city, moving slowly and casting curious glances left and right, each looking much like a country bumpkin who had never seen a woman before. Their attire was varied, yet they traveled together, making a peculiar sight that drew laughter from the beauties along the roadside.

One among them, appearing burly and rough, exclaimed in delight at the abundance of beauties: “I’ve long heard that Xi Shi hails from Wu and Yue, but never knew what she looked like. Having seen so many lovely women today, I think I can guess a bit of Xi Shi’s appearance.”

Beside him was a young monk: “You never admit you’re inexperienced. They say beauty and bones are all the same in the end; I don’t find the women of Wu and Yue as remarkable as you claim. Brother Zhang, don’t you agree?”

“You’re a monk—you wouldn’t understand the wonders of women,” replied the man addressed, a scholar dressed in a green robe, who laughed heartily. “They may say beauty and bones are the same, but the difference between the two is vast indeed.”

The burly man joined in the laughter: “Look, look, Brother Zhang, you’ve corrupted even the monk.”

The group laughed loudly, but only an old man followed silently behind, saying nothing, head bowed, though his eyes darted about restlessly.

These four were none other than Zhang Chi, Dao Xuan, Santong, and Manager Wu, traveling to Kuaiji in search of the Wine Maiden.

Dao Xuan, seeing Zhang Chi and Santong tease him, changed the subject: “What’s so funny? That day in Jiankang, Brother Zhang, when you tricked old Che Yin and clapped your hands, shouting ‘Such great virtue!’—now that was truly hilarious.”

The term “trick” was something Zhang Chi had taught them. He had once explained that deceiving Che Yin in Jiankang was called “tricking.” Santong and Dao Xuan, having heard it once, remembered it well and used it often.

“Exactly!” Santong chimed in. “I never thought Brother Zhang’s skills at trickery were so impressive.”

Of course, Zhang Chi thought to himself, having played the lead in his college drama troupe before crossing over, acting a play to fool ancient people was well within his abilities.

The group continued joking as they walked. Zhang Chi, mindful not to forget their purpose, asked Manager Wu, who followed timidly behind, “Manager Wu, how do we find the Wine Maiden in Kuaiji? We’ve already arrived at the commandery seat, Shanyin.”

Manager Wu replied nervously, “Master, how should I know? That Daoist told me to follow the Five Pecks of Rice followers to Kuaiji, saying riches would come naturally. But halfway there, I was dragged back by this hero.”

He meant Santong, who had captured him. Santong, hearing himself called a hero, secretly felt pleased.

“What did that Daoist look like?” asked Zhang Chi.

“He wore a Daoist crown and robe,” Manager Wu answered confidently. Seeing Zhang Chi’s angry glare, he quickly added, “Yes, yes, he said his name was Master Shouyin.”

“Master Shouyin?” Zhang Chi murmured. Wasn’t that the very Daoist he’d met at the temple? How had he come to Kuaiji as well?

As Zhang Chi pondered, Santong’s stomach suddenly rumbled loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. Santong scratched his head in embarrassment and said, “Brother Zhang, after all this travel, now that we’re in Shanyin, let’s find something to eat. I’m starving.”

At Santong’s suggestion, Zhang Chi realized he was hungry too. He looked about for a place to eat, but noticed many people streaming ahead. Curious, he stopped one passing by and asked, “Brother, where are you rushing off to?”

Hearing Zhang Chi’s unfamiliar accent, the man replied, “You’re not from here, I see. There’s a brothel in town, always crowded with scholars. Today they’re offering wine in exchange for poetry—write a good poem and you can taste the finest wine. It’s the talk of the city! Someone as talented as myself naturally wants to drink to my heart’s content.”

With that, he shook off Zhang Chi and hurried ahead.

Wine in exchange for poetry—Zhang Chi had endless poems at his disposal, and free wine to boot. He was instantly intrigued and turned to his companions: “Why don’t we try some free wine?”

Santong and Dao Xuan knew Zhang Chi’s talents well—more impressive than Cao Zhi composing poems in seven steps—so they cheered loudly, and the four followed the crowd forward.

Passing through the Drum Tower, they soon saw a brothel by the roadside. Unlike ordinary brothels, which used vulgar women to lure customers, this one was elegantly decorated, with many people gathered at the door. Santong, seeing the lively scene, laughed, “Who’d have thought a brothel could do such good business?”

“This is no ordinary brothel,” a bystander overheard Santong and joined the conversation. “It’s the most famous place in Shanyin, renowned for both fine wine and beautiful women. It’s frequented by scholars—common folk like us can’t afford it, so we come just to watch the excitement.”

“Oh? Are the food and wine expensive here?” Zhang Chi asked.

“Of course,” the man replied. “But the owner deeply respects talent. Anyone truly learned can drink for free. Today they’ve brought out their best wine—bring a good poem and you can taste it for free, and even spend a night with the courtesan!”

This was indeed fascinating. Zhang Chi smiled knowingly. “Are there really so many beauties?”

“All beauties,” the man assured him.

“And the wine is truly good?”

Seeing Zhang Chi’s skepticism, the man pointed ahead. “If you don’t believe me, look at the words by the door.”

Zhang Chi followed his gesture and saw the doorway divided, each pillar bearing a bold, vigorous couplet. On one side: “A tiger drinks deep in the mountain’s cup,” and on the other: “A dragon sleeps with two goblets beneath the sea.” Truly, grand words.