Courtesans and Other Entertainment

The fading sun painted the horizon in deep shades of crimson and gold, as Chengyu and the hunting party emerged from the thickets, their silhouettes etched against the evening sky. They bore the fruits of a successful hunt, an abundance that would sustain the village for days to come. The men's laughter and jovial banter, punctuated by the soft thud of game hitting the ground, filled the air with a sense of camaraderie.

"Chengyu," one of the older hunters called out, slapping him on the back with a grin that revealed missing teeth, "you've got quite the eye! Who'd have thought the pretty boy could fell a spirit with such grace?"

The words, meant in jest, warmed Chengyu from within. He had longed for this acceptance, to be more than just an ornamental figure in their eyes. "It was nothing," he demurred, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

As they neared the edge of the village, the hum of daily life welcoming them back, Chengyu sought to excuse himself. "I should return to Xiuqin's," he said, thinking of the humble shelter that had become his makeshift home.

"Ah, but tonight we celebrate!" another hunter insisted, throwing an arm around Chengyu's shoulders with a hearty laugh. "Come, the night is young, and the pleasures await at Madame Li's!"

Before Chengyu could protest, he found himself swept along by the tide of men, their robust forms a stark contrast to his own delicate frame as they jostled him about, each offering sincere yet crude praise.

Although they bounded to a place he had never dreamed of entering, he wondered if this was what having friends was like.

They pushed open the doors to the brothel, stepping into a world of silk and shadow, where the perfume of incense hung heavy in the air.

Chengyu's gaze flitted across the richly adorned room, taking in the sumptuous fabrics and the languid movements of the courtesans as they flittered to different men, sweeping them into rooms down the hall, or into the tea room near the entrance.

One lady grabbed his arm, but he politely declined and tore himself away, intent on hiding until everyone had their appetites sasiated. As he stumbled into the tea room, he felt a pang of something like vertigo, an overwhelming sensation born of both the opulence and the underlying current of decadence. He sat with his back against a window, feeling the warm rays of the sun hitting the back of his head.

Chengyu leaned back, allowing his thoughts to wander. He wanted an empty mind, but amidst it all, a single melody cut through the cacophony—a plaintive tune coaxed from the strings of an erhu. At its behest, sitting at a raised platform was a courtesan with eyes that seemed to carry untold stories. She wore fine robes, the fabric hugging her supple form in an elegant embrace, her face painted with the artistry of makeup that accentuated her features.

"Miss, may I come closer?" Chengyu asked, his voice barely above a whisper, drawn to the music as a moth to flame.

"Of course you may, honored guest," the courtesan replied, her fingers never ceasing their dance upon the strings. "Although, you may not touch the entertainment."

Chengyu stood up from his seat and ventured over, halting just before the platform. Settling on one of the steps leading up to her, he kept his attention trained on her. More so, the delicate playing, her serene expression as she cradled the instrument.

"Your playing... I can't think of any other way to describe it, but it's utterly captivating," he admitted, finding solace in the conversation that bridged the gap between their worlds. "Miss, I could listen to you play all evening. If... If you have the time, maybe later, I'd like to..." He trailed off, unsure of what he'd promise.

After the day he'd had, Chengyu would enjoy the delicate company of a woman. But his experience was nill, and he wasn't sure how one would even have gone about with brothel dealings.

"Music speaks when words fail," she said, a small smile playing on her lips.

Laughter erupted behind him as a few of his hunting companies entered and took notice of Chengyu's gentle demeanor with the musician.

"Look at our pretty boy, wooing with words as soft as petals," one teased, elbowing his companion.

Well, that was fast, thought Chengyu, his eye twitching.

"Perhaps he seeks a song for his lady love," another chimed in, the quip followed by a chorus of guffaws.

Chengyu turned slightly, meeting their teasing with a lightness he didn't feel. "And if I do, surely there's no harm. In a place of beauty, one must appreciate all forms of it."

"Spoken like a true poet," the first hunter said with a chuckle, raising a cup in mock salute.

Yet, amidst the raillery, Chengyu could not help but feel the strain of being pulled further into a realm that tugged at the edges of his conscience. His heart yearned for the simplicity of Xiuqin's abode, the quietude of her company. Even now, as he engaged with the courtesan and weathered the hunters' mirth, part of him remained detached, an observer within his own life, pondering the strange state of existence that fate had woven for him.

I don't belong here, he thought, yet a spark of something said the opposite.

Still, he fled before the old madam running the place tried to convince him to spend money of his own. With a dip of his head, Chengyu bade the erhu-playing courtesan goodbye.

Yet as he neared the exit, he felt a tug on his collar and turned around, prepared to contest until he saw a burly man standing before him. His heart gave a start before he realized it was Lin Hu.

"Little Apothecary," he politely greeted. "Where are you headed?"

"To my master's house."

Leaning in, Lin Hu whispered, although he was no good at it. Anyone passing could've heard him. "A few of us know some servants," he began, conspiratorial, "so we'll sneak in an enjoy the feast. Apparently, Lord Hongli puts it all out when foreign dignitaries arrive. Even the servants eat well. Want to come?"

Before Chengyu could've responded, Lin Hu was already sweeping him along.

"Quickly now," Lin Hu urged, his eyes reflecting the urgency of twilight. "A feast awaits, and we mustn't be late, lest the servants enter without a few of us slipping in alongside them."

Chengyu nodded, feeling the vigor of the hunt still simmering in his veins. "Your master must be Auntie Xiuqin, right?"

Nodding, Chengyu took a step back and allowed Lin Hu to lead the way, navigating the treacherous halls of the red-light district. Fortunately, Xiuqin's home was only a few roads over. Lin Hu escorted Chengyu to the door, then bolted.

"Meet me at the gates," Lin Hu called, already hurrying away.

Chengyu ducked into Xiuqin's house, where silence greeted him like an old friend. His hands moved deftly to discard his hunting gear and cleanse himself from the day's exertions. Soon, he stood before a modest mirror, clothed in traditional robes that whispered of a bygone era. They were garments that spoke more of ceremony than comfort, yet they draped over him with an ease that belied their formality.

Chengyu tried retracing his earlier steps but wandered, getting a good feel for the place he would now occupy. Still, it didn't take long before he wandered onto a main road, which funneled into Lord Hongli's residence.

From his position on the slope leading down, Chengyu caught a glimpse of the complex; a large central structure with many smaller ones dotting the gate's interior. The palace's eaves curled into the dusk sky like the claws of some slumbering dragon.

As the hunters had advised, he entered with ease, slipping in with a group of servants, although he wound up following them to their little village that existed just on the perimeter of Lord Hongli's domain.

Before they could notice that he didn't belong, Chengyu bolted, slipping between the narrowed-alley streets. He circled for good measure, but when he emerged, he realized he was utterly lost. But just as he began contemplating how long it would take to successfully navigate the maze-like servant's quarters without drawing attention to himself, a voice broke through the din.

"Chengyu?" Yuehua's call was both a lifeline and a siren song. "You appear lost among these winding paths."

"Lady Yuehua," he acknowledged with a slight bow, his heart quickening at her unexpected presence. As a servant had kindly directed, he did not look her in the eyes. Yet he swore he heard a slight sigh. "I confess, I'm somewhat disoriented. See, I specialized so heavily in medicine that I now lack in other qualities. Orienteering being one."

He didn't want to recount the summer, when he'd toured the Forbidden City with his father and somehow wound up on a train headed out of the city when asked to scout out their hotel.

"Allow me to guide you," she offered, a knowing smile touching her lips.

Together, they traversed the labyrinthine alleys, her grace navigating them past wary guards who scrutinized Chengyu with narrowed eyes.

"Your intuition for this place is remarkable," Chengyu remarked, admiration coloring his tone.

"But of course," Yuehua replied, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "My wet nurse lives in these halls, so I oft visit her to pay my respects."

As they emerged into the open expanse near the banquet hall, the clamor of festivities grew louder, a stark contrast to the quiet companionship they shared on their walk.

"Come," Yuehua said, her voice tinged with an uncharacteristic excitement. "Join me in the banquet hall. Nobles from afar have graced us with their presence, and the court is alight with anticipation."

Chengyu hesitated, torn between the camaraderie of the servants' feast and the allure of the unknown. Yet the opportunity to witness the grandeur of the court, to drink in experiences far removed from his humble origins, tipped the scales within him.

"Lead the way," he conceded, his decision buoyed by curiosity and the subtle pull of Yuehua's invitation.

"Have your concerns about the meal taster been allayed?" he ventured as they approached the grand doors, the thought surfacing amid the swell of his own intrigue. He'd wondered if he would see that lady, Suyin, but she was nowhere in sight. Even for as faintly as he'd seen her, he had recognized her face; yet another thing Chengyu was good at was memorizing. While often not anything useful, stress helped him to recall things.

"Ah," Yuehua sighed, her gaze turning inward for a moment. "Yes, precautions have been taken. Tonight, we shall dine without fear."

They crossed the threshold into the dining hall, where the opulence of the court unfurled before Chengyu in a tapestry of silk and gold. The room was not yet filled to capacity, allowing him to absorb the splendor with an intimacy that might soon be swallowed by the tide of nobility.

"Remarkable," he breathed, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns that danced across the walls and floors.

"Indeed," Yuehua agreed, watching him with an expression that mingled amusement with something more enigmatic. "Now, let us taste the night's offerings."

Chengyu nodded, his senses sharpening as he prepared to partake in the evening's myriad delights. He noticed Yuehua's new meal taster – a silent sentinel amidst the revelry – and felt a fleeting pang of unease. But it was quickly eclipsed by the rich aromas wafting from the tables, promising a feast fit for the gods. With a willful shrug, he cast aside his reservations and surrendered to the experience, eager to savor every drop of this strange, intoxicating world.

Chengyu lowered himself onto the plush cushion, his hands smoothing over the fine fabric beneath him. The carpet was a tapestry of dragons and phoenixes interwoven with threads that shimmered like rivers of gold under the flickering lantern light. He traced the intricate designs with his fingertips, a sense of wonder kindling within him as he pondered the stories they might tell.

"Each pattern holds a tale," Yuehua said, noticing his fascination. "And tonight, you shall witness tales spun not by thread, but by human hands."

Her voice melded with the scent of chrysanthemum and sandalwood in the air, creating an atmosphere both otherworldly and grounded. From the corners of the hall, performers began their preparations, their movements as fluid as the silk that draped from their bodies.

"Shadow puppetry, mask dances, or perhaps acrobatics?" Chengyu mused aloud, his thoughts drifting like the incense smoke above them.

"Perhaps all, if time permits," Yuehua replied, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

Before Chengyu could inquire further, a boisterous laugh sliced through the tranquility of the room. A man approached, his presence commanding attention. He was dressed in silken finery, a long-sleeved, high-collared shirt that hugged his torso, and loose trousers, unlike the robes everyone here seemed to donn.

He was vibrant against the subdued elegance of the court. His dark, long hair, adorned with beads that clicked softly with each step, swayed like pendulums keeping the rhythm of his gait. He had quite the rythm, sauntering over and practically draping himself across the table before easing back to theatrically bow, though he never broke eye contact or lost that mischievious glint.

"Zhang Chengyu, apothecary and tamer of spirits! What fortune to find such esteemed company!" The man's voice was honeyed and thick with enthusiasm as he mimed playing an instrument. "Shurli Hua, at your service!"

Chengyu winced at the name. How unfortunate to find that tales of him were making rounds in the village.

Yuehua's laughter chimed in harmony with the tinkle of Hua's hair ornaments. "Chengyu, this is one of our most spirited entertainers. He hails from a land further north."

Spirited is one word for it, Chengyu remarked internally, leaning back on his palms to regard the newcomer with polite curiosity.

"Seeing as you are unfamiliar, perhaps you would like a guide? Although no Imperial Palace, Lord Hongli's estate may be a labyrinth to the uninitiated," Hua offered, his grin as broad as the sleeves of his robe.

"An offer as generous as it is unexpected," Chengyu responded, masking his disappointment with courteous intrigue. Yuehua's amusement was palpable, her eyes dancing with silent laughter.

"Unexpected encounters often lead to the most memorable experiences," she whispered, her words brushing against his ear like the softest silk.

"Indeed," Chengyu conceded. "Then, when the need arises, you may lead the way, Shurli Hua. I am keen to see the palace through your eyes."

"Please, call me Hua."

The hall began to swell with the steady influx of guests, their silken robes a cascade of color against the austere beauty of the stone walls. Servants floated past, their movements a choreographed dance perfected by generations of observance. Chengyu sat cross-legged on the plush carpet spread beneath the low table, his senses tingling with the spice-scented air that heralded the approaching feast.

"Alas, duty calls," Hua announced, his voice a melodic lilt that somehow pierced the growing din of conversation. He stood, the beads at the tips of his long hair catching the light and casting prismatic glimmers onto the nearby wall. "Our paths shall cross again, I am certain."

Balking and unsure of what to say, Chengyu nodded. "May your performance ensnare the hearts of all who watch," he replied, watching as Hua's form swept forward, receding into the crowd, every step an elegant testament to his art. Chengyu cast a glance back at Yuehua. Her expression was enigmatic, a riddle.

Chengyu's attention was diverted as the first platters were placed before them—glistening carp, steamed buns shaped like chrysanthemums, and mountains of fragrant rice that seemed to steam in rhythm with his breaths. As he reached for his chopsticks, the richness of the aromas enveloped him, a comforting embrace that spoke of culinary expertise and care.

"Try the lotus root, it is prepared with a hint of sweetness." Yuehua's voice was but a whisper, yet it carried the weight of royal decree.

He complied, picking up a slice of the translucent root, its edges tinged with a delicate brown from the caramelization process. The initial crunch gave way to a velvety interior, a symphony of texture and taste that danced upon his tongue. Each bite was a revelation, the familiar made exotic through expert hands.

In between the savoring of dishes, Chengyu's gaze found Yuehua, her presence commanding even in stillness. Yet it was not her alone that drew his eyes, but the figure at her side—an unfamiliar face now sampling the dishes before they reached her lips. The new meal taster, he surmised, noting the careful scrutiny in the man's eyes. In another time, this change would have piqued his curiosity, but now, amidst the opulence and the promise of safety, Chengyu allowed himself the luxury of indifference. He shrugged inwardly; it was a night for pleasure, not for pondering the shifting sands of court life.

"Each flavor is like a story waiting to be told," he mused aloud, partly to Yuehua, partly to himself.

With each dish, the banquet unfurled like a scroll painted with delectable vignettes—a mosaic of land and sea, tradition and innovation. Chengyu let the experience wash over him, a tide that carried away thoughts of intrigue and unease. For a few precious moments, there was only the here and now, the joy of a shared meal.