Chapter Thirty-Seven: Lord Wang's Fury

As the saying goes, a woman dresses up for the one who delights her. Compared to the night of the courtesan contest, Meng Xiaodie was even more radiant today. Her petite, delicate figure paired with an extravagantly low neckline—a combination at once contradictory and beautiful—became the truest reflection of Feng Jingzhe’s feelings at that moment.

Of course, through the eyes of someone possessing the soul of a forty-year-old man, the girl who now bowed shyly before him was, after all, just a middle schooler, not yet of age.

“It’s been some time, and it seems Miss Xiaodie has grown up quite a bit since we last met...” He would swear to the heavens, this remark was nothing but the casual greeting of an adult to a child.

Yet, Meng Xiaodie’s face flushed scarlet to the roots of her neck after a moment of startled silence. Realizing he’d misspoken, Feng Jingzhe wished he could slap himself. Fortunately, Sun Fugui, standing beside him, quickly stepped in to ease the awkwardness.

“Uh... ahem... Madam Hua, could you please have a table of your finest food and wine sent up? My third brother has been busy all day and hasn’t eaten a single grain yet...”

Only then did the old bawd come to herself, inwardly cursing her own carelessness. “How could I have forgotten? This Third Master Feng is infamous for both lust and appetite! Boldly flirting the moment he arrives—if he stays any longer, who knows what trouble he’ll stir up!” She had invited a wolf into the house for the sake of a new song, and now she was being ushered out—anxiety gnawed at her.

Sensing the madam’s worries, Meng Xiaodie herself came to the rescue. “Please go, Mother. Have the kitchen send up only the best, chill some wine, and give the bill to Dou’er.”

“That won’t do... It’s rare for Third Master Feng to visit; I shall see to it myself—right away, right away...”

Seeing Feng Jingzhe glance over, the old bawd had no choice but to grit her teeth and depart. Yet, as she reached the courtyard gate, she couldn’t help but look back and signal frantically with her eyes.

Meng Xiaodie pretended not to notice. Having grown up in such an establishment, she could read a man’s intentions from a glance. From the moment he entered, Third Master Feng’s gaze was as clear as water; even when he uttered that teasing remark, there was no lasciviousness in his eyes.

She had nothing to fear—if anything, she felt a trace of disappointment.

“Please, sir, have a seat... If it weren’t for your gift of that song, I would not be where I am today...”

“There’s no need for such thanks, Miss Xiaodie. On that day, when I was down and out, you alone gave me all you had. I am here today only to express my gratitude...”

Feng Jingzhe’s gratitude was sincere. Who else, in such circumstances, would bring money without expecting repayment? It is said that true friendship is revealed in adversity, and so Meng Xiaodie had long since earned his trust.

Feng Jingzhe was not one of those pretentious men of letters. By now, he had already seized a handful of melon seeds from the table and was cracking them open by himself.

“So you came today just to thank me?” Meng Xiaodie searched for words, pouring him a cup of tea and watching him with bright, lively eyes.

“Not entirely. Truth is, I was starving at home and slipped out over the wall. I meant to scrounge a meal at Fat Sun’s place, but the miser just dragged me here instead...”

His words were offhand, but Meng Xiaodie felt nothing amiss—on the contrary, her heart rejoiced. The more at ease Feng Jingzhe acted, the more it showed he saw her as one of his own. After all, only the closest of friends would drop by uninvited for a meal.

“Master Sun, that’s quite unfair. Clearly, Master Feng came to poach food from your house, yet you brought him to mine. When Madam Hua comes, you’ll have to pay for this meal.”

Sun Fugui was quick-witted. He’d caught the implication in Feng Jingzhe’s words: Meng Xiaodie had been accepted as one of their own. Despite his usual careless manner, Third Master Feng was proud at heart. Anyone he acknowledged had truly earned it.

“Haha... I’m not paying! My third brother’s the one eating, so he should foot the bill. But I know he’s so broke his pockets are emptier than his face is pale. How about you have him compose a new song for you as payment?”

At these words, Meng Xiaodie’s heart skipped several beats. She knew Sun Fugui was likely joking, but she couldn’t help looking to Feng Jingzhe, her eyes brimming with anticipation.

“It’s only a song. Once I’ve eaten, I’ll teach it to you. If you want more in the future, just prepare good food. Once you’ve sung them all, maybe we’ll figure out a way to buy out this Warm Jade Pavilion...”

Meng Xiaodie was already lost at the first part, let alone the rest. The truth was, after his stroll through the Warm Jade Pavilion, Feng Jingzhe had become fascinated by its layout and location. If given the chance, he’d love to turn it into a full-scale entertainment venue: foot baths, massages, saunas, plus a bar and karaoke lounge—everything in one place.

Of course, this was but idle dreaming. In his current position, even a hint of such an idea would earn him a permanent suite in a hospital, should Feng Xiaoman catch wind of it.

Madam Hua was efficient. In no time, dishes and wine were delivered one after another to the upstairs room, along with a large ice bucket chilling seven or eight flasks—at least four or five catties of liquor.

“Well, looks like they don’t quite trust me—determined to knock me out and carry me off,” thought Feng Jingzhe. But he cared nothing for the madam’s scheming. After nearly a month of vegetarian fare, he dove into the feast without hesitation.

Meanwhile, Madam Hua had already heard from Dou’er about Feng Jingzhe’s promise of a new song. She was overjoyed and promptly ordered an extra dish of braised double-headed abalone for him.

Meng Xiaodie busied herself serving food and pouring wine, stifling her laughter as she watched him eat with ravenous abandon.

“Come, eat with me! Drinking alone is no fun...”

Feng Jingzhe spotted a few dice by the flowerpot and had Dou’er fetch more cups.

“This way of drinking is dull, and drinking games are too cliché. Tonight, let’s play Liar’s Dice...”

The rules were simple but the game was addictive, and soon everyone—including Dou’er—was caught up in the fun.

Yet, while merriment filled the upstairs room, a certain Mr. Wang in the front hall sat in simmering fury, on the verge of explosion.

This old man, Wang Zongfu, was the chairman of the Chang’an Grain Guild. He owned over a dozen shops in the city, and with his grain shipments traveling by water, he had close ties to the river transport gangs—making him a power in both the legal and criminal worlds.

He had taken a fancy to Meng Xiaodie before she even gained fame, and had struck a deal with Madam Hua for her debut on the night of the courtesan contest. But then Feng Jingzhe appeared out of nowhere, and his performance of “Slow, Slow Song” catapulted Meng Xiaodie to the peak of popularity. Naturally, the Warm Jade Pavilion now intended to keep her a virgin for a couple more years to maximize profits.

Yet Wang Zongfu was obsessed with her, and could do nothing but spend money here daily in hopes of seeing her. At last, today, he had paid enough to be promised a private audience—but had been left cooling his heels for nearly an hour since dusk.

Every time he sent someone to hurry things along, the wretched madam would claim that Meng Xiaodie was still dressing up.

At last, he learned from others that she was actually entertaining a guest—the very man he longed to beat up: Feng Jingzhe.

His rage erupting, Wang Zongfu shoved aside the madam who tried to block his path and stormed toward the rear courtyard in a fury...