Chapter Ninety-Nine: Like Father, Like Son

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Xiao Ge Feng held Jiang Pingchuan’s hand as they walked down the street, followed by ten soldiers. The passersby looked at Jiang Pingchuan with surprise whenever they saw him. After Jiang Pingchuan and his group passed by, murmurs of astonishment would rise from behind. The ten soldiers tirelessly introduced the true identity of the man held by Feng Xiao Ge to everyone on the street.

When the onlookers heard Jiang Pingchuan’s real identity, their faces were filled with shock—they felt as though they were seeing the man himself. Feng Xiao Ge led Jiang Pingchuan to a place known for fireworks and stopped. Jiang Pingchuan looked at the establishment called the Hundred Flowers Pavilion. At the entrance stood a group of scantily clad women, their alluring figures swaying as they waved silk scarves and cast flirtatious glances at Jiang Pingchuan. Clearing his throat twice, Jiang Pingchuan admitted he had never entered a place like this before. Feng Xiao Ge chuckled softly and pulled him toward the pavilion’s door.

“Xiao Ge, why bring me here?” Jiang Pingchuan asked, feeling that Feng Xiao Ge’s name was quite presumptuous. No matter who called him, they always said Xiao Ge. Jiang wondered how his father had come up with such a nickname. At home, his father must be calling him Xiao Ge or Ge Ge every day. Jiang thought to himself that no wonder Lord Gong and the city lord of Yin-Yang City were friends—both were clearly unreliable characters.

“Brother Chuan, there’s someone here with a fascinating story. Don’t you want to hear it?” Feng Xiao Ge smiled brightly, blinking his big, lively eyes at Jiang Pingchuan. Jiang frowned, feeling skeptical. Feng Xiao Ge was no ordinary child—after all, he had just pulled off that wind-riding feat. He was not someone to underestimate.

“A woman?” Jiang Pingchuan asked with doubt. Feng Xiao Ge rolled his eyes at him. Jiang realized how pointless his question was; in a place like the Hundred Flowers Pavilion, aside from eunuchs, everyone else was a woman.

Feng Xiao Ge dragged Jiang Pingchuan inside, while the ten soldiers behind them loudly announced that their young master, Feng Xiao Ge, had brought the boss, Jiang Pingchuan, into the Hundred Flowers Pavilion.

The scene quickly became awkward. Many people had come here because of Jiang Pingchuan. Some women, unconcerned by the gossip of outsiders, entered the pavilion to catch a glimpse of Jiang Pingchuan’s true face.

Jiang Pingchuan’s arrival delighted the madam of the Hundred Flowers Pavilion immensely. Not only did she get to see Jiang Pingchuan in person, but he also brought her a flood of customers.

Upon hearing Jiang Pingchuan wished to select a courtesan from the pavilion, the madam immediately sent someone to escort him to the courtesan’s room while she busied herself attending to the guests drawn in by Jiang Pingchuan’s presence.

Some women, unable to see Jiang Pingchuan, quickly left the pavilion and anxiously waited at the entrance. Meanwhile, Feng Xiao Ge sat in the main hall, holding one of the pavilion’s women and continuously fondling the proud curves of her chest.

Though Feng Xiao Ge was merely a child, his touch was exceptional; he was famous as a charming playboy in Yang City.

He gently caressed the woman beside him until her soft moans suddenly ceased. Turning to look at the woman who had her eyes closed in bliss, Feng Xiao Ge smiled mischievously.

Realizing the touch had stopped, the woman opened her eyes, cast a resentful glance at Feng Xiao Ge, muttered, “Like father, like son,” and then rose, swaying her ample hips as she walked away.

Jiang Pingchuan stood before the door of the pavilion’s second floor, momentarily at a loss. Truth be told, he felt increasingly cowardly with age. As a child, he had dared to steal a kiss from a girl in the neighboring village. Now, as an adult, he stood hesitantly before the door of a courtesan’s room, unsure whether to enter.

Calming himself, Jiang Pingchuan resolved to trust Feng Xiao Ge this once. He had come to hear a story. With that thought, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The soundproofing in the pavilion’s rooms was excellent. The moment Jiang Pingchuan closed the door behind him, all noise faded away.

Inside, a beautiful woman sat on the bed. Seeing Jiang Pingchuan enter, she grew nervous but smiled and stood up to pour him a full cup of wine. Jiang Pingchuan smiled faintly, sat at the table, but did not touch the wine.

The woman stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently kneading them. Jiang Pingchuan felt a soothing comfort radiate from her touch, as if bathed in soft clouds. He closed his eyes, savoring the woman’s attentions.

Slowly, she lifted the wine to his lips. Jiang Pingchuan sniffed, shook his head, refusing to drink. The woman smiled softly and drank the wine herself.

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After finishing the drink, she leaned on Jiang Pingchuan’s back, her slender fingers exploring his chest. He grasped her hand and shook his head again.

Her face pressed close to his ear, she blew warm breath against it, softly sucking and nibbling, drawing a sharp breath from Jiang Pingchuan, who suddenly stood up and faced her.

With a sorrowful expression, the woman began removing her clothes. Jiang Pingchuan watched as she approached him, naked, her sadness replaced by endless charm and seduction.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, one leg sliding up and down his body, and flicked out her rosy tongue, exhaling a faint scent of wine.

Jiang Pingchuan’s face darkened. He lifted her into his arms. The woman gave a pleased, excited moan, clutching his neck tightly and sucking on him.

He laid her on the bed, standing by its edge, watching her as she moaned softly and caressed her own body seductively, her figure tempting him.

But Jiang Pingchuan stood motionless like a wooden statue.

The woman knelt on the bed, attempting to untie his robe, but suddenly let out a small cry as if pricked by something, then lay back, laughing softly.

Jiang Pingchuan looked at her with a puzzled expression. That cup of wine — his refusal to drink it was neither fear nor a reaction to any drug that might be in it.

He could see that only by drinking it could the woman ease her own pain.

Turning away from her body, Jiang Pingchuan faced the opposite direction.

The woman’s moans grew more urgent. Hearing a long moan from her, Jiang Pingchuan finally turned back to look.

She averted her gaze immediately, her face flushed with heat. Her legs spread apart, a milky-white liquid glistened in the mess below.

Jiang sighed and walked to the table, pouring himself a cup of tea from the pot, sipping slowly. The woman’s soft breaths came from behind.

“Do you despise me for being dirty, young master?” she said, her voice tinged with sorrow and self-mockery.

She was a woman who made her living by selling her body. If Jiang Pingchuan despised her as unclean, what reason did she have to argue? She was a courtesan, after all—where was purity or chastity to be found?

“Everything has its nature. Dirt and cleanliness have no fixed boundaries. Why torment yourself so?” Jiang Pingchuan said calmly. He had come to hear her story and perhaps guide a lost soul.

“A pot used by everyone is called a teapot; a woman used by many is called a prostitute. If that’s the case, why cling to illusions?” The woman draped her veil around her and stood behind Jiang Pingchuan. He pulled out a chair for her, and she sat beside him, propping her chin on her hand, her beautiful eyes sparkling as she looked at him.

“Xiao Ge said you have a story. I’m here to listen,” Jiang Pingchuan said with a smile, holding his tea cup.

The woman gave a bitter smile and reached out to caress his cheek.

“I have many stories. Which one would you like to hear?”

Jiang Pingchuan smiled helplessly.

“Yours.”

“Mine?” The woman pointed to herself in puzzlement. Seeing Jiang nod, she said nothing, reaching for the wine pot to refill her cup, but Jiang stopped her.

“What is your name?”

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The woman withdrew her hand from the wine pot, blushing deeply as she looked at Jiang Pingchuan.

“Jiang Pingchuan.”

“Heh, so you are the legendary Jiang Pingchuan. I never expected this humble woman to have the fortune of sharing a drink and a night with you,” she said, her vermilion lips parting gently, exuding faint fragrances of wine and perfume.

“It’s not even dark yet,” Jiang furrowed his brows but smiled faintly. The woman’s lips twitched awkwardly. Jiang realized he had misspoken; his words were unkind.

“Do you want to hear my story?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, her body slack and weary. Jiang nodded.

Jiang Pingchuan waited outside her door until she closed it, then descended the stairs. Downstairs, Feng Xiao Ge lay sound asleep in a woman’s arms. Feng Li, meanwhile, looked frustrated, drinking heavily.

Seeing Jiang descend, Feng Li staggered over with blurred eyes, grinning mischievously, but before he could speak, he stumbled and flopped into Jiang’s arms, snoring loudly.

Jiang helped Feng Li to a seat at the table, then went to the door and called a soldier. After a few words, he quickly vanished into the night, returning to the Ten Thousand Palace Pavilion.

Before long, Feng Wuliang arrived at the Hundred Flowers Pavilion. Seeing his two sons asleep face down on the table, he groaned in despair and approached Feng Li and Feng Xiao Ge, slapping each on the forehead.

Feng Li staggered to his feet, glaring at Feng Wuliang with annoyance.

“Old man, who the hell are you? Believe it or not, I’ll have my boss slap you to death.”

Feng Li squinted and stuck out his tongue. Feng Wuliang scowled and slapped Feng Li’s head three more times.

“I’ll have your boss slap your father to death—slap your father, slap your father!” Feng Wuliang cursed, his face flushed with anger. Feng Li chuckled and collapsed into Feng Wuliang’s arms.

With a sigh, Feng Wuliang patted Feng Li’s back and called for someone to help Feng Li onto a carriage. Then, carrying the drowsy, mumbling Feng Xiao Ge, he headed out.

“Father, Sister Hua said I look just like you. She said like father, like son,” Feng Xiao Ge mumbled from Feng Wuliang’s shoulder.

“You little rascal, have you been fooling around with Sister Hua?” Feng Wuliang asked.

“Hmm…” Feng Xiao Ge murmured before falling asleep.

“...”