100 The Birth of the Two Famous Pieces of Calligraphy (2/2)

”If you want to be true friends with them, you need to foster an ability and charisma that can win their respect. If you can step into the Second Floor of the Academy, I believe everyone in the world would be willing to befriend you.”

She picked up her cup of Gold Orchid dew and took a sip to moisten her throat. She raised her head and continued calmly, ”You can come here in future to relax, but not too frequently. You can't drink too much wine either. I'm a madam so naturally, I won't call it degrading to indulge in brothels, but I also don't think it's something elegant or beneficial. 30 years ago, the great poet Mr. Caocun spent the first half of his life in brothels, but who dared to disrespect him? He even ended up marrying the prime minister's daughter, but this wasn't because his time in brothels had won him a great reputation. In the end, it was because of his incomparable talent!”

”The Tang Empire values talent. They wouldn't bury you as long as you have the talent and ability, whether you're downstairs or upstairs, inside or outside, a lad from a border town or a nobleman from Chang'an.”

After the lesson from Mistress Jian ended, Ning Que went downstairs with a hand over his forehead. He found the gathering to be over and learned from the steward that it was Ms. Situ who ultimately paid the bill. He felt fortunate that he could keep his 2,000 silvers for a little longer.

Just as he was about to bid Dewdrop and the other courtesans farewell, the maidservant Xiaocao impolitely herded him into the horse carriage under the order of Mistress Jian. She then told the driver to send the drunk lad back to Lin 47th Street as soon as possible.

Inside the carriage, Ning Que was jolted up and down to the point that he wanted to vomit but for some reason, he remained rather sober. He continued to ponder over a serious question. He was willing to sacrifice his health and spirit to enter the old library and the Second Floor because of his interest and also his desire to strengthen himself and seek revenge. Did he now have to add another reason to it? So he could be received well in brothels?

While his mind was in disarray inside the carriage, another guest had visited Dewdrop. Being one of the most popular courtesans in the House of Red Sleeves, she had the right to select and even turn away guests except for some regulars like the censor Zhang Yiqi. However, she had to hide her weariness and pour tea for this late-night guest.

”Go and wash your face. Pretty women like you shouldn't look as dirty as an old fellow like me.”

This guest was a thin and tall old man. He wore an incredibly worn Taoist robe, with grease stains all over and grains of rice stuck in the seams. He looked dirty to the extreme, but his face was relatively clean, with several strands of long beard just under his chin. His slanted eyes were tilted upward and the obscenity within was also extremely dirty.

Dewdrop smiled and followed her maidservant to once again wash up.

She only knew the guest was important, for Mistress Jian had told her ahead of time. She didn't know his identity nor his job. When it came to appearances, it wasn't ever something she or her fellow courtesans cared about. What was important was the generosity of this man called Vitality-protecting God. In his three times here, he had only ever touched her and never bed her. There was no reason for any brothel women to dislike him.

The filthy, tall and thin Taoist poured himself a cup of wine and sipped without any worry. In boredom, he caught the sight of a balled-up piece of paper by the wine pot. It was an ordinary paper from an account book where he could vaguely read the words. Out of the inclination fostered in his decades of cultivation, he instinctively picked up that ball of paper and carefully spread it open on the table.

There was a line of words without any clear distinctions. Coupled with the messy and tilted handwriting, the note was something unpleasant to read.

It read: ”Sangsang, your master is drunk today and won't be home to sleep. Remember to drink the chicken soup left in the pot.”

His messy brows tightly knitted at these words. Yet surprisingly, he didn't frown out of disgust. Rather, he was completely shocked and delighted.

The tall and thin Taoist carefully appreciated the scribbled words, his eyes finally landing on the words 'chicken soup'. He dipped his skinny finger into his wine and began imitating the writer's style with strokes on the table.

The wine on the tip of his finger was transformed into characters on the rosewood table. They had little difference with the two characters that Ning Que had written on the memo. A flow of Tao seemed to have penetrated the wine following the Taoist's figure, entering the depth of the rosewood table. It then transformed into numerous tiny whirls and disappeared.

Outside the room, Dewdrop was putting on her makeup. She seemed to sense something and stiffened when she saw the reflections of twinkling stars in the water inside the basin. For some inexplicable reason, she suddenly felt homesick for the warm home that only existed in her dream. Her eyes were filled with tears as she thought of how she had never enjoyed the chicken soup made by her mother.