Once outside the Zhen estate, Ding Songyan looked up at the still-blazing sun.

Go, or not go?

The "distinguished guest" at the Zhen estate claims to be skilled in the art of numerology. He calculated that if I’m at the Crimson Sleeve Street bathhouse in the North Lane pleasure quarter between 5 and 5:30pm, a fortuitous opportunity will find me. Whether that’s true or not...

Taking a look won’t cost me anything. At worst I’ll be mocked tomorrow for actually believing it. My skin is thick. I don’t care...

With this mindset, Ding Songyan first went home to inform his sister, lest they come searching for him again. Only then did he head toward the North Lane pleasure quarter.

He had never been there himself, but had heard it mentioned by many. It was where Dingjiang Prefecture’s entertainment halls, song houses, and pleasure houses gathered.

Entertainment halls invariably contained theaters, and inside those theaters were a variety of performances: operas, puppet shows, shadow plays, storytelling, and ballad singing. Crowds came and went daily. Around the theaters sprouted restaurants, food stalls, and gambling houses, with medicine sellers, barbers, and fortune tellers visible at every turn.

Based on Ding Songyan’s understanding, the entertainment hall was essentially a comprehensive commercial complex centered around theatrical performance. When one grew tired of that, there were song houses, pleasure houses, and bathhouses nearby.

A storyteller whose fame barely extended beyond the area around Dangkang Temple was not yet qualified to perform in an entertainment hall. He could only be called a "street performer."

Asking for directions along the way, he arrived at Crimson Sleeve Street. One casual glance revealed a riot of colors vying for attention everywhere, the very air seeming to carry the scent of rouge and powder.

As he strolled leisurely toward the bathhouse at the street’s end, he noticed that many of the song houses were enormous and complex in structure, six or seven stories tall. If one climbed to the top floor, one could probably see over the northern wall and out to the river.

Behind these song houses and pleasure houses were multiple courtyards, from which drifted the faint sounds of flowing water, wine cups, and stringed instruments.

Unfortunately, it was still early. The colorful lanterns had not yet been lit, robbing these establishments of some of their glamor.

South Wind House... Those standing at the balcony windows are all men. Some are even wearing red female dresses... Those entering and exiting are women, but there are also men... You people of Great Zhao sure have quite open-minded customs... Ding Songyan pursed his lips privately and arrived at the street’s only bathhouse—Sweet Moon Bath House.

A public bathhouse was a commercial entity akin to a modern-day spa. It mixed various fragrances and herbs with the bathing water.

Ding Songyan stayed in the shadows along the side of the Sweet Moon Bath House and waited with nothing to do.

It was still well before five. When he grew tired of standing, he switched to squatting. When he tired of squatting, he paced up and down the street. When pacing grew tedious, he walked over to a boiled-water stall at the roadside.

Boiled water here referred to plain hot water infused with various herbs, flowers, and spices—a type of folk drink. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

The stall owner had set up a large pot, which was gurgling away at a rolling boil.

Seeing Ding Songyan approach, the owner called out eagerly, "Perilla water, cardamom water, floral water for sale!"

Ding Songyan pulled over a bench and sat down with a smile.

"Why aren’t you selling iced drinks in this hot summer; instead, you are selling these hot infusions?"

"The song houses, pleasure houses, and bathhouses on Crimson Sleeve Street all have their own iced beverages. How could I compete? Look at this face of mine. Is it pretty?" The stall owner pointed at his own pockmarked, wrinkled visage.

"Not at all." Ding Songyan was quite honest.

"Exactly! If I had the silver, I’d go to Emerald Willow House myself to look at beauties and have one serve me iced drinks, not stare at this old mug." The stall owner pointed at the Emerald Willow House across from the bathhouse.

It was one of Crimson Sleeve Street’s grandest song houses. It was built using wood and stone, layer upon layer, perhaps seven stories tall.

"What’ll you have, sir?" The stall owner asked with a smile after his self-deprecation.

Ding Songyan took out his money pouch. "Sorghum stalk water."

This was the cheapest variety available.

The smile on the stall owner’s face gradually faded. He ladled boiling water into a bowl, swished a bundle of sorghum stalk pith back and forth in it seven or eight times, and added a pinch of coarse brown sugar.

"Four coins." He told Ding Songyan.

Ding Songyan said in amusement, "It’s only two coins a bowl outside Dangkang Temple."

"This is Crimson Sleeve Street," the stall owner replied calmly.

Ding Songyan, who had earned well lately and spent very little, did not haggle. He paid four coins, accepted the bowl of sorghum stalk water, and set it before him to cool.

As he waited, he shifted his body slightly to observe the activity in front of the Sweet Moon Bath House and the Emerald Willow House.

Time passed slowly. Ding Songyan lifted the bowl of sorghum stalk water, blew on it a few times, and took a sip.

It carried a faint scent of grain, with sweetness lingering. It quenched his thirst but did nothing for the heat.

Halfway through, Ding Songyan noticed a stir at the entrance of Emerald Willow House.

In the blink of an eye, a figure was thrown out the door, stumbling and crashing to the ground.

My fortuitous opportunity? This isn’t going to be some kind of con, is it? Ding Songyan had no desire to meddle, but given what the Zhen estate’s "distinguished guest" had said, he set down his bowl, walked over quickly, crouched, and tried to help the man up.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he helped the person up.

The man wore a white scholar’s robe, his hair disheveled. He hissed with pain even as he shook his head.

"It’s nothing, it’s nothing."

He looked up, and Ding Songyan was momentarily stunned.

It wasn’t because the man was strikingly handsome or imposing, but because he had seen him before—at the Zhen estate!

Back then, the Zhen estate’s main gate had stood fully open, with his cousin-in-law, Zhen Quanwang, personally and deferentially seeing this man off. The man had been dressed in feathered robes and a tall ceremonial cap, with four beautiful handmaidens and four guards behind him. He himself had physical abnormalities—oversized ears shaped like a canine’s. The whole procession had exuded status, leaving Ding Songyan certain he was of extraordinary birth and formidable martial skill.

And now, here he was, thrown out of a song house, his face bruised and swollen, blood at the corner of his mouth, looking thoroughly wretched.

Once Ding Songyan helped him up, the young man produced a cloth and bound his hair back. The two large, tawny canine ears that had been pressed flat against his skull beneath the hair sprang back into position with a bounce.

It really is him... Ding Songyan had just been wondering if he’d mistaken the person. Now he was entirely certain.

The pale, plump, puffy-eyed young man glanced at Ding Songyan and frowned with suspicion.

"You know me?"

Something seemed to occur to him, and his expression began souring.

Ding Songyan said hastily, "I’d seen you at the Zhen estate. You were of lofty status back then, so you likely didn’t see me. I never expected that you’d have such a refined taste for traveling incognito."

The young man’s expression eased. He wiped the blood from his mouth.

"You’re with the Zhen household?"

"My maternal cousin is a concubine to the second master of the Zhen family." Ding Songyan noted the shift in the other’s expression, established his credentials first, then asked with feigned curiosity, "Were you afraid the people at Emerald Willow House would recognize you? Is that why you dressed this way and came without attendants?"

The young man coughed twice.

"When people look at me, they see only my status and cultivation level. Today I wanted to set all that aside and see whether, as an ordinary man, I could win Courtesan Li’s favor through my charm and conversation alone. Who knew these people would be so blind? They wouldn’t even give me a chance to meet her!"

Your appeal is your status and cultivation level. Your charm and conversation are better left unmentioned... Whatever you do, don’t strip away your identity and strength to test how much personal charm you have. You’ll find there’s none... Ding Songyan only dared to criticise inwardly. Outwardly he said, "I can understand the desire to travel incognito. But those blind fools actually resorted to violence. Why did you tolerate it instead of teaching them a small lesson?"

The young man was quiet for a moment.

"If you commit to traveling incognito, you can’t give up halfway. That would be like an actor on stage breaking character."

As he spoke, the movement tugged at his facial wound and he instinctively winced.

What dedication... Ding Songyan’s expression stiffened slightly.

"Meeting is fate. Let me buy you a drink." The young man flicked his wrist in affected nonchalance and strode out toward the main street.

My fortuitous opportunity is with him? Ding Songyan could not judge the exact time without a clock, so he followed the evidently young man of exquisite birth out of Crimson Sleeve Street before finding a restaurant nearby.

The young man was about to call out to the waiter for "their finest wine and dishes" when he suddenly remembered his current persona. He shifted to a measured tone.

"Four dishes to go with drinks. And bring a jar of... a jar of whatever wine you have. Nothing too expensive."

After they took their seats by the window, the young man said quietly to Ding Songyan, "I don’t actually know what the common wines here are called. I had to let them decide."

"Understood." Ding Songyan was very experienced at this. He flipped over the tea cups and poured water for the both of them, asking as he did, "How should I address you?"

"Ren Youyang." After giving his name, the young man straightened his back with the bearing of someone the whole world should recognize.

This only accentuated his bruised and swollen face.

Seeing no reaction from Ding Songyan, he asked in surprise, "You haven’t heard of me?"

"I haven’t." Ding Songyan shook his head.

Ren Youyang prompted, "You’ve never looked through the Orchid Rankings? Not even the Orchid Fresh List, which only features young powerhouses under thirty?"

All right, you don’t need to say more. I know you’re on the Orchid Fresh List and have been ranked in the Orchid Rankings proper... But with your current appearance, beaten till you look like a pig’s head... Ding Songyan did not reply with another "I haven’t." Instead, he put on a look of astonishment. "Young Master Ren, you’re on the Orchid Fresh List?"

Ren Youyang smiled.

This tugged at the swollen parts of his face, eliciting another low groan as his canine ears twitched erratically.

"I barely squeezed in. Dead last." He raised his teacup and drank some plain water.

Ding Songyan had heard plenty of jianghu talk recently. Flattery came to him effortlessly.

"The Orchid Fresh List only has a hundred names. For Young Master Ren to have made it in at all, you are already a model among the realm’s young heroes, one of distinguished rank."

To avoid aggravating his facial injuries, Ren Youyang only smiled faintly.

"Stop calling me ’Young Master Ren.’ Just call me Brother Ren or Brother Youyang. I’m twenty-four. You look younger than me, so I’ll call you by name.

"What’s your name?"

Ding Songyan reported his name with some look of astonishment.

We’re already on familiar terms this quickly?

Sensing his puzzlement, Ren Youyang pointed at himself and laughed.

"I’ve always been this way. If I feel a connection, strangers become old friends in an instant. You happened to be there just now. You helped me up—that’s fate.

"Life is short. You should live with abandon."

The Zhen estate’s "distinguished guest" really did predict correctly... Making the acquaintance of someone like Ren Youyang is certainly a fortuitous encounter... Ding Songyan smiled.

"Brother Youyang, then I won’t stand on ceremony."

As they chatted over drinks and the dishes arrived one by one, Ding Songyan took the opportunity to ask.

"Brother Youyang, are you from a sect, or a noble clan?"

Ren Youyang couldn’t help lifting his chin slightly.

"I’m a true disciple of the True Spirit Sect."

The True Spirit Sect? One of the "Six Sects" in Great Zhao’s "Six Sects and Four Schools"... Ding Songyan’s smile grew ever warmer.