Chapter 61: The Peony Pavilion

After wandering through the Hundred Markets, Zhang not only managed to upgrade his gear but also pocketed thirty taels of gold. With a hundred more taels safely stored at Liyuan Bank, he mused whether he should find an underground exchange to cash out. After all, his ultimate goal in “Dynasty” was not to rule the world, but simply to make a living.

Yet, his recent visit to the small shop had reminded him that to thrive in business these days, appearances were indispensable. Imagine negotiating a deal worth thousands of gold taels while dressed in rags reminiscent of a modern-day beggar—who would trust in your capabilities? As the saying goes, a horse is judged by its saddle, a man by his clothes; this could not be truer.

So, after another round through the southern wing of the Hundred Markets, Zhang emerged transformed from a shabby woodsman into a dashing young gentleman on horseback. The rather fine Dayuan horse was rented for a hundred taels of silver, with a daily fee of ten taels, and the player was responsible for its upkeep. It could cover seventy li per hour. In “Dynasty,” the chief use of horses was to conserve internal energy—no need to spend hours using lightness skill to travel. Much like a car in the real world, it was an excellent mode of transport.

If the horse served a practical purpose, then the new blue robe Zhang now wore was purely ornamental—fifteen taels of silver for a set that made him look like a scholar on his way to the capital for the imperial examination, instantly bringing to mind the image of Ning Caichen from “A Chinese Ghost Story.”

Now, Zhang rode his white horse leisurely through the bustling city. At night, Fuling County gleamed with lights and throngs of people. He had not yet had the chance to inquire about underground exchanges when he caught sight of the same wealthy young lord who had previously blocked his path exiting the Hundred Markets.

This rich young man strode ahead confidently, followed by two attendants—one respectful, the other leading a white horse. Notably, he did not head toward the city’s lively center, but instead made his way to the great river on the outskirts.

Zhang’s curiosity was piqued, and he quietly followed, leading his own horse. Fuling was the foremost river city in the Ezhou district, crisscrossed by tributaries. Yet, on the largest branch of the river, a brilliantly lit pleasure barge was moored. The vessel was vast, with five-colored banners fluttering atop its roof.

The five-colored barge, motionless beneath the night sky, exuded an allure that was anything but ordinary; anyone with a discerning eye could see this was no common place.

Zhang did not know it yet, but this barge was famous in its own right, known as the “Peony Pavilion.”

The Peony Pavilion was acclaimed as Ezhou’s number one establishment—not for its height or size, but because it sailed the Yangtze year-round, offering a panoramic view of the riverside’s splendor. With its elegant layout, carved beams and painted rafters, the Pavilion was a haunt for nobles, courtesans, and romantic scholars alike.

In the third year of “Dynasty,” the four great constables of the capital had gathered here to pursue the Qilian Mountain criminal; Ezhou’s first martial alliance leader was chosen here; even the reigning Emperor once invited the district’s famed courtesan to perform on this very stage. Thus, the Peony Pavilion’s renown spread far and wide, known to everyone from high ministers to local gangs and wandering gentlemen of taste.

It was easy to understand—the Pavilion, like similar places in every city, was exorbitantly expensive, yet business was always booming. For many patrons, the extravagance was precisely the appeal.

To dine, drink, and even relieve oneself in such a gilded setting lent an air of distinction, making one feel, if only for a moment, like a person of consequence. The “Icy Jade” wine, sold at twenty taels of silver a pot, likely tasted no better than the three pots for one tael at a humble eatery, but some would swear otherwise. Entry was tightly controlled; only the wealthy or well-connected could enter, and even the richest might find themselves turned away without the proper introduction.

Now, the wealthy young man and his three attendants reached the dock without hindrance. Two handsome greeters at the entrance greeted them with beaming smiles, clearly quite familiar with the young lord.

Zhang, too, approached boldly, only to be stopped by one of the attendants: “Please wait, young master. If you wish to enter the Peony Pavilion, kindly present your guest’s invitation.”

The young lord turned, a hint of surprise in his eyes—he had not expected the pauper from before to appear now as a gentleman, let alone to have followed him here.

Zhang was momentarily taken aback. He knew about name cards, which were carried by players with sects or status to facilitate correspondence, but this “guest’s invitation” was new to him. Clearly, he had neither the special invitation nor an ordinary name card.

The attendant noticed his discomfort but remained courteous: “Young master, we only receive honored guests at the Peony Pavilion. Outsiders are not admitted unless introduced or bearing a guest’s invitation.”

The wealthy young man could not help but sneer: “Carrying a dead rat in your belt and pretending to be a hunter—paupers want to climb into the Peony Pavilion? Get lost, you wretch.”

“You!” Zhang flared up. Was it a crime to be poor, for this fellow to insult him so?

The rich youth continued, “Tonight is the monthly performance of the Pavilion’s famed melodies. Unless you are royalty or from a noble family, forget about being a guest here. Who do you think you are, some wild nobody wishing to enter? Hmph!”

Instead of anger, Zhang grew calm and smiled, “Royal kin are idle and greedy, noble families are all show and no substance—better to be a humble rustic who stands upright. After all, ‘Are lords and ministers born to their rank?’”

It was a classic war of words. Though Zhang spoke of integrity, he had likely forgotten his own less-than-spotless deeds: ambushing Jian Wuyu, stealing the Blood Parrot flower, and tricking Playful Dreamer.

At that moment, a hearty laugh rang from the bridge: “Well said! ‘Are lords and ministers born to their rank?’ Throughout history, true heroes have suffered hardship, while pampered scions rarely amount to much. Young master on the white horse, do you agree?”

Zhang turned to see yet another wealthy young man appear on the bridge—this one even more striking.

He had never seen someone so refined, yet exuding a lofty grace. His attire was perfectly tailored, of noble fabric, and every accessory seemed chosen with care—never gaudy, never ostentatious, never resembling that of a vulgar parvenu.

The gold-shark-inlaid scabbard at his waist was clearly ornamental, and the jade pendant on his belt looked like a token of chivalry. With his handsome features and elegant bearing, he was a rare sight even in the world of “Dynasty.” Next to him, the so-called white horse gentleman seemed little more than an attendant.

The latter’s face darkened, but he quickly forced a smile, “So it’s Young Master Qi. I didn’t expect to see you at the Pavilion tonight. It’s been a while since we parted at Jiangdu. How have you been?”

But Young Master Qi ignored him completely, walking straight past to face Zhang, offering him a courteous salute: “May I inquire your name, sir?”

Though of high status, he bore none of the white horse gentleman’s arrogance, radiating instead an unspoken gentleness and warmth, putting all at ease.

Zhang returned the salute coolly, “A rustic from the wilds, my humble name is unworthy of your attention.”

Young Master Qi smiled, “Since you prefer not to reveal it, I will not press. But as you’ve come to the Pavilion, you must have some fondness for tonight’s performance. Without an invitation, might I have the honor of introducing you?”

Zhang, never one to pass up a free benefit, quickly saluted in return, “Then I shall gratefully accept your kindness.”

Young Master Qi smiled, “Direct and forthright—neither fawning nor arrogant. I like that. If you don’t mind, allow me to show you the way.”

Zhang nodded, “Please.”

Young Master Qi gestured, “This way, sir.”

The two attendants at the bridge immediately changed their tune, bowing deeply, “Please, sirs, this way inside!”

The white horse gentleman glared after them, muttering, “Damn, always showing off and crossing me. As for that pauper, just wait till I get my hands on you.”

Inside, the Pavilion’s layout was spectacular—five floors in total, but the first floor was an open space with pavilions, bridges, ponds, and playful fish, a scene of joy and serenity.

At the center was a stage, visible from all directions. The surrounding VIP seats were dazzling, abloom with flowers, fine wine, and fragrant tea. The floor was decorated with embroidered clouds and a hundred birds in flight, while palace ladies in ornate dress moved between the five levels, serving guests. Looking down from above, the place was a vision of opulence—luxurious, resplendent, full of song and laughter, a veritable paradise of pleasure.

To Zhang, this was no common brothel, but a palace of refined indulgence.

Ma Junmei had guessed correctly—this evening, he really was visiting a pleasure house.

Zhang felt a pang of guilt. In the old days, the girls sold only their art, not themselves. Modern celebrities, on the other hand, sell themselves and not their art. At least “Dynasty” was a wholesome online world and wouldn’t stoop to such sordid antics.