Chapter 50, Young Miss Ah Nu

Translator: StarReader

 

Su Chen nodded, not particularly caring whether she was a newly debuted girl; he only needed to stay in the brothel for one night. Matron Li, cheerful, pushed open the door and entered the chamber. Su Chen entered the room, a faint aroma of makeup greeting him.

 

This was a rather fancy place, with fine furnishings. Looking inside the chamber, delicate pink drapes, emerald-colored hangings, and intricately adorned folding screens could be seen. On either side were desks with items for calligraphy, painting, chess, and books. All the essentials—brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones—were present in abundance. Elegant porcelain figurines adorned other shelves as well.

 

Behind a sheer curtain was a delicate girl around fourteen years old, seated gracefully with her knees crossed, her pristine white robe highlighting her soft features. Her small hands, as delicate as jade, lightly rested on the music stand as she slowly practiced her lute skills.

 

Clearly, this was a rare tranquil and secluded spot within Mist Terrace. Though Ah Nu was a newly debuted courtesan, her starting price was exceedingly high—a single silver tael equaled one thousand copper coins. That sum matched several months’ worth of labor for an average family in the county city. Few were willing to spend that kind of money to listen to this inexperienced performer play even a single melody.

 

Moreover, Ah Nu had no connections or patrons to support her, leaving her hidden away like a gem unrecognized by the world—she hadn’t gotten a single client yet. If it weren’t for Su Chen, a newcomer in the martial world who was unfamiliar with brothels, no one would have paid any attention to her at all.

 

Matron Li gleefully instructed Su Chen to sit and left the chamber. Su Chen nodded slightly, remained silent, and settled cross-legged on the mat, listening intently to the melody unfolding before him.

 

Through a delicate pink curtain, as thin as gauze, one could faintly see the beautiful face of the young lady on the other side, her snow-white neck barely visible. The atmosphere was slightly tense.

 

“May I ask your name?”

 

Her voice was sweet and soft, making it hard not to feel at ease.

 

“I am Su Chen,” Su Chen said.

 

The girl’s graceful fingers playing the strings paused for a moment, then smoothed them out, quickly returning to calm.

 

“So, what would you like to listen to?”

 

She asked again.

 

“If you like any particular tune, feel free to play it for me,” Su Chen said, not hiding his indifference. He didn’t know much about music; he had come here simply to prepare a place where he could hide after leaving the Han Mountain Daoist Temple. As for listening to music, that was just a way to pass time.

 

“Very well, I’ll play two pieces of High Mountains and Flowing Water for you. They’re famous from when Yu Boya played his zither and met Zhong Ziqi, the story of how rare true understanding is,” the plain-dressed girl replied after a moment’s thought. Her fingers danced gracefully over the strings. (StarReader: famous ancient musician from the Spring and Autumn Period)

 

The music was ethereal, as if one could see towering mountains capped with swirling clouds, everything shifting and changing. Then it twisted and turned, like clear spring water rushing through a mountain range, dancing freely, leaping and bounding, crisp and sharp, like a spirit echoing through a remote valley.

 

After some time, the girl finished the second piece. She looked up at the opposite side of the curtain and saw Su Chen still sitting stiffly. She couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re truly refined. To sit here quietly for half an hour is rare indeed! Most people would have gotten bored long ago.”

 

Behind the pale pink curtain, Su Chen could feel the charm of her smile—it was no wonder that Mist Terrace had spent years cultivating such exquisite beauties.

 

But Su Chen wasn’t listening to the music; he was just killing time. He smiled faintly and said, “Young Miss Ah Nu plays the zither so skillfully—it’s truly delightful. By the way, sitting for too long can tire the mind. Would you mind if I lit an incense stick to keep myself alert?”

 

“My Lord, your refined tastes amuse me! Burning incense while playing the zither is the height of sophistication—truly a superior form of artistry. There’s an incense stand on the table and a few sticks in the cabinet; they’re from what I had left over yesterday.”

 

Ah Nu chuckled in disbelief.

 

Su Chen forced a polite smile—he knew nothing about burning incense while playing the zither.

 

He took an incense holder from the table and slipped a drugged incense unnoticed from his sleeve, instead of the normal one, placing it in the holder and lighting it. The curling smoke swirled mistily.

 

A faint aroma filled the room.

 

Ah Nu continued playing behind the curtain, unaware that the scent would soon have her succumbing to sleep. After just a short while, she felt an overpowering drowsiness and collapsed onto the zither stand, falling asleep instantly.

 

Su Chen had known it would come to this. This incense was made by his own design to induce a powerful slumber upon inhalation. The scent was potent enough to send even the most resilient person into a deep sleep.

 

It would burn for quite some time, ensuring Ah Nu remained unconscious for over an hour. Once she was asleep, Su Chen wasted no time. He swiftly covered his face with a dark scarf, broke free from the bedroom window, and vanished.

 

An hour was more than enough for him to stealthily infiltrate the Han Mountain Daoist Temple and return to Mist Terrace without a trace.

 

Nightfall came quickly. Su Chen transformed into a sleek shadow, slipping out from the rear window of Mist Terrace like a stealthy mountain cat. He gracefully avoided the numerous guards posted around the brothel, melding into the darkness and disappearing from Mist Terrace entirely.

 

After exiting the county through the west gate, he arrived at the wall of Han Mountain Daoist Temple, a secluded and deserted corner. Night had already fallen; Han Mountain Daoist Temple was closed to visitors, with no worshippers or pilgrims coming or going. Only a young Daoist on watch patrolled inside the Daoist temple, keeping the night guard.

 

“Brother Chen, over here!” Ah Chou had been waiting outside the temple wall in a dark corner and excitedly whispered to Su Chen upon his arrival.

 

“Mm, Ah Chou, is everything ready?” Su Chen nodded. “Did you get it?”

 

Ah Chou patted the chicken cage beside him with pride. Inside was a big rooster with its mouth, claws, and wings tied with straw ropes to prevent it from crowing.

 

“I’ll sneak into the temple first to guard. Daoist Qinghe has a strange schedule. He will go to the outhouse after the third watch and go to sleep. I will probably start in half an hour.

 

“Listen carefully to the gong of the night watchman in the county city. When you hear it, kill the chicken, carry it, and let the blood drip from the courtyard wall all the way to the river at the west gate pier, and throw the chicken into the river.

 

“Don’t stay at the wharf, and don’t come back here to wait for me. Go back to the county city immediately and hide in the Heaven Falcon Group. Don’t go out again within half a month. Everything will return to normal once the storm blows over.”

 

Su Chen looked at the sky and gave careful instructions.

 

Ah Chou was too weak, and the only thing he could do for him was to set up a trap to help him lure the enemy.

 

In the middle of the night, the freshly spilled blood would attract the attention of the Daoists and lead them to the riverside of the west entrance pier, which would reduce many pursuers.

 

“I’ll remember! Brother Chen, you must be careful. You are in much more danger than I am.”

 

Ah Chou nodded seriously.

 

At that moment, the gates of Han Mountain Daoist Temple were tightly shut. Inside the temple, it was quiet with almost no one around. Only a few Daoists were on guard, patrolling to prevent fires.

 

Su Chen scaled the wall, using his exceptional perception to avoid patrols. He carefully moved towards Daoist Qinghe’s quarters in the rear courtyard.

 

Daoist Qinghe, already a first-rate expert, was further protected by other first-rate experts within the temple, along with numerous second-rate Daoists. Stirring any of them could lead to failure.

 

However, perhaps due to the temple’s reputation as the most revered place in Gusu County City, surpassing even the county constable in solemnity, hardly any thieves disturbed it. Theft was unheard of here; the young Daoists on patrol were lax, merely checking for fires during their shifts.

 

Su Chen reached Daoist Qinghe’s quarters smoothly and stopped outside. Inside the study, several oil lamps burned brightly on the desk.

 

Daoist Qinghe was sitting on the mat in the room, knees drawn to his chest, looking through a Daoist scroll. He sat motionless for quite some time, occasionally moving slightly and taking a sip of tea. Like that, he remained still in the room for nearly half an hour. Su Chen waited patiently outside.

 

Over these past few days, Su Chen had grown familiar with Daoist Qinghe’s daily routine. Any moment now, Daoist Qinghe should be getting up to use the outhouse, and after about a cup of tea’s time, he would return to his quarters. This was Su Chen’s only chance to strike.

 

Su Chen continued to wait patiently.

 

After another brief wait, faint sounds of night watchmen striking their drums at the third watch were heard from the direction of Gusu County City.

 

Daoist Qinghe stretched lazily in response, rose to his feet, left the quarters, and gently closed the door behind him as he headed toward the shack in the back courtyard’s corner.

 

Su Chen waited until his footsteps faded into the distance—about forty-five paces away—and then swiftly jumped through the window and slipped inside the room.

 

Time was of the essence. Su Chen let his extraordinary perception loose, sweeping through every corner of the chamber with an intensity that left no detail unchecked in his quest for anything out of place.

 

The room was vast, a lavish bedroom befitting a high-ranking Daoist. Shelves were lined with volumes of Daoist texts, while the desk held the usual ink, brush, and paper. Yet, as Su Chen’s gaze fell upon the desk, he noticed something amiss: the fiery symbol he had seen during his last visit was nowhere to be found. He let out a silent sigh of regret.

 

His sharp eyes darted across the bookshelves and countertops—nothing but dust and stillness. With his keen perception, every slightest irregularity within thirty meters was laid bare to him. But alas, there was no trace of what he sought.

 

The room was empty—no letters, nothing! The furniture was sparse, with almost nowhere to hide anything. All he found were just ordinary Daoist items, like robes and clothing. Not even a single valuable or slightly expensive item was present, giving the impression of a clean, Daoist-style lifestyle.

 

But how could Daoist Qinghe, who had collaborated with pirates and Ding Shisan, have no money? Where was the plunder hidden?

 

Su Chen couldn’t make sense of it. “This doesn’t add up. If there’s nothing important here, why would Qinghe keep guarding this room all day long? Even when he left during the day, he made sure at least five second-rate Daoist disciples stood watch outside. There has to be a secret; otherwise, there’d be no need for guards.”

 

Su Chen was confused.

 

He suddenly thought about how many martial stories featured places like secret rooms, hidden cabinets, or underground tunnels for storing important items. Could Daoist Qinghe’s quarters also have something similar?