IDWBE -Chapter 403 Apricot Blossom House

Though both men were long married with families, they were regular patrons here.

The older they grew, the more they favored young and beautiful women.

Yet neither had any intention of abandoning his wife or taking a concubine.

With their means, they could remarry a modest young lady from a respectable family. But such women, delicate and unaccustomed to labor, couldn’t carry loads or lift burdens—and each ate more than the last. Bringing one home would only mean a financial loss.

They were used to hard lives, stretching every coin as if splitting it in two. They never did business at a loss.

Even coming to pleasure quarters for a bit of indulgence required gritting their teeth.

And after frequenting such places so often, they no longer even knew how to speak properly to respectable women.

There were unspoken rules in brothels: once a woman took your silver, ate your food, drank your wine, it meant she consented—permitting you to touch and flirt.

But from Li Sanniang to Cao Xiaohuan to Zhou Xun, every one of those women took advantage of them instead—eating their food, drinking their wine.

Sometimes they even fell under the illusion that those women might actually be interested in them.

So coming to brothels too often could be dangerous.

One impulsive mistake, and Cao Xiaohuan and the others might beat them to death.

Whenever they visited Apricot Blossom House, they stayed in the main hall drinking cheap wine. They never splurged on a private room. As for what the backyard looked like—they had never even seen it.

But this time, in order to investigate the attempted assassination of the Prefect of Ankang, they spent heavily to enter a private room in the rear courtyard.

Each held a sixteen-year-old beauty in his arms, laughing and drinking together. After three rounds of wine, Butcher Jiang shot Zhu Ruorong a meaningful glance.

Zhu Ruorong belched loudly, pushed away the girl leaning on his shoulder, and slowly rose.

“When nature calls, it calls. You drink on—I’ll go take care of it.”

Compared to Butcher Jiang, his martial skills and lightness kung fu were superior, so the scouting naturally fell to him.

Truth be told, he didn’t expect much from the search.

It was mostly curiosity—they simply couldn’t understand why the authorities were sweeping through brothels on such a large scale.

Until he figured it out, he wouldn’t sleep peacefully.

Crouching behind a thick corridor pillar, peering left and right, he suddenly felt someone tap his shoulder from behind. His whole body jolted.

Though he had drunk quite a bit, he was still a fifth-rank martial artist!

Aside from the so-called “Three Harmonies,” a fifth-rank like him could usually swagger across Ankang City unchecked.

Yet someone had approached him silently, without the slightest sound—and he hadn’t sensed a thing.

Half his drunkenness vanished instantly.

If this person chose to attack, he wouldn’t even have the strength to resist.

He didn’t move rashly. Carefully turning his head, he finally exhaled in relief when he saw the face before him.

Clutching his chest, he said, “Kan boy, don’t scare people like that—you’ll kill someone!”

Liu Kan, dressed in a white scholar’s robe, gently fanned himself and smiled.

“What are you doing here?”

“What kind of place is this?” Zhu Ruorong replied. “Any man can come here.”

Liu Kan said calmly, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Leave. This isn’t a place for you.”

Zhu Ruorong bristled. “Why can you stay but I can’t? The more you tell me to leave, the less I will.”

Liu Kan smiled faintly. “I know you want credit. But think about it—if you could handle it, what would people like us be for?”

Zhu Ruorong wiped his flushed face and snorted.

“You look down on us.”

Ever since this brat became an official, he’d grown arrogant. Back then, he used to call them “Uncle” so warmly. Now he barely acknowledged them.

Liu Kan continued, “Whether it’s the Capital Camp, the Military Office, or the Imperial Guards, countless eyes are watching. The moment you entered, someone reported it to me. Leave quickly—don’t get dragged into trouble.”

Zhu Ruorong paused.

If the place was surrounded layer upon layer, there would be no opportunity for him and Butcher Jiang to act anyway.

Without another word, he returned to the private room, waved at Butcher Jiang—who was busy taking bites left and right—and said, “We’re leaving.”

Before Butcher Jiang could ask why, Zhu Ruorong had already ducked out and strode away. He had no choice but to follow.

Once outside Apricot Blossom House, Butcher Jiang grumbled, “What happened? At least say something!”

“Capital Camp everywhere,” Zhu Ruorong sighed. “No room for us. Let’s just go home and sleep.”

When he received no reply, he turned around to see Butcher Jiang staring at a nearby tea stall.

“What are you looking at?”

“Look over there,” Butcher Jiang squinted. “That old man and the young one sitting there—and the one standing—aren’t they waving at us?”

Zhu Ruorong stepped forward. “Prince Yong’an.”

“And that standing one must be that old Lai Kuan.”

“Let’s go take a look,” Zhu Ruorong said, already striding over.

“Wait for me!” Butcher Jiang hurried after him.

As they approached, the Prince spoke first.

“You’re both our own people. No need for ceremony. Sit.”

Guessing he was traveling incognito, they refrained from bowing and instead glanced at the old man beside him.

“This is?”

Before the Prince could answer, Tang Yi stroked his beard and spoke.

“I am but a commoner—hardly worth mentioning. But seeing you two so mighty and valiant, rare heroes indeed—just as I regretted missing you, I learned you were acquainted with His Highness. Fate, surely.”

His first statement was true—after Qi Yong stripped him of office, he had been escorted to Ankang and had yet to clear his name.

As for the latter compliment—even he wasn’t sure if he meant it.

But Zhu Ruorong and Butcher Jiang beamed.

“Too kind, too kind,” Zhu Ruorong laughed, his cheeks bunching up until his eyes disappeared. “Just average—third best in the south of the city.”

Their only dissatisfaction with themselves was their height.

They constantly had to crane their necks to speak to others.

Tang Yi teased, “Then who is first?”

“Prince He!” Zhu Ruorong replied proudly.

“And second is me!” Butcher Jiang declared.

Zhu Ruorong then asked, “May I ask why Your Highness summoned us?”

The Prince coughed lightly.

Lai Kuan stepped forward. “A chance to make money and earn merit. Interested?”

“Make money and earn merit?” Zhu Ruorong frowned.

“You don’t believe it?” Lai Kuan smirked.

“You think we’re fools?” Butcher Jiang snorted.

Everyone in Ankang knew the Twelfth Prince was dirt poor.

Some wealthy families were already considering marrying off a concubine daughter to him—bringing a dowry of one hundred thousand taels to secure imperial kinship.

Even if he refused, they believed money would make him bow.

When you’re that poor, what dignity can you cling to?

“Mind your words!” Lai Kuan snapped.

The Prince waved him off. “Forget it. Forcing others is not the way of a gentleman.”

He helped Tang Yi toward the carriage.

Zhu Ruorong and Butcher Jiang exchanged glances.

Soon, Lai Kuan whispered, “Your Highness, those two are following.”

“Ignore them,” the Prince said smugly.

The carriage stopped at the Imperial Academy.

As the Prince dismounted, he spotted the two men pretending to admire peach blossoms nearby.

Lai Kuan approached them. “We meet again.”

“Speak plainly,” Zhu Ruorong said impatiently.

“We want to capture the assassin,” Lai Kuan said. “Work with us.”

“Assassin?” Zhu Ruorong blinked.

“The one who attacked the Prefect of Ankang in broad daylight. Who else?”

“The authorities searched every brothel in the city and found nothing. You think we’re better than them?”

Lai Kuan smirked. “The information that Qi Yong was hiding in a brothel? That came from our Prince.”

“Then why not leave it to the authorities?”

“Is capturing the assassin worth more—or just providing clues?”

“Capturing him, of course.”

“There you have it.”

Still doubtful, Zhu Ruorong looked to the Prince.

The Prince smiled. “You know my circumstances. I ask for your help.”

Butcher Jiang frowned. “If we’re catching an assassin, why come to the Imperial Academy?”

The Prince turned to Tang Yi. “Grandfather, please enlighten us.”

Grandfather?

Zhu Ruorong and Butcher Jiang suddenly realized—

This old man was that unfortunate magistrate from Qizhou!

The one escorted to the capital over eight hundred taels missing from accounts.

They had often heard scholars curse Prince He for injustice.

Even they had begun to think Tang Yi was an upright official wronged by fate.

Zhu Ruorong bowed deeply. “So it’s the honorable magistrate. Forgive my ignorance.”

Tang Yi returned the gesture. “No need for courtesy. I rely on you both.”

Privately, he sighed at his grandson’s plight.

So poor—and at critical moments, not even a capable aide beyond one shabby old servant.

How had he managed this?

Butcher Jiang boomed, “Just tell us what to do!”

Tang Yi smiled. “Have you heard the poem—‘Willows blur in morning mist, apricot blossoms fall at the fifth watch bell,’ or ‘In a small tower I listened to spring rain all night; tomorrow in deep alleys they’ll sell apricot blossoms’?”

The three rough men only caught the words “apricot blossoms.”

The Prince spoke up. “The first is by Qi Yong. The second—I’m ashamed to say I don’t know.”

“The second was written by Qin Yang, Right Censor-in-Chief,” Tang Yi replied.

He continued, “Do you know the origin of the name Apricot Blossom House?”

Butcher Jiang said, “There are hundreds of brothels named that across the realm. What’s special?”

Tang Yi stroked his beard. “The proprietor behind Ankang’s Apricot Blossom House is the Princess Royal’s consort—Tang Xun.”

“What?!” the Prince exclaimed.

Tang Yi went on to explain how Qi Yong, once a celebrated scholar at the Imperial Academy, had fallen for a courtesan and composed a verse mentioning “Apricot Blossom House,” prompting Tang Xun to rename the establishment. It became famed for its beauties, spawning imitators nationwide.

Tang Yi paced slowly.

“Qi Yong frequented that place—writing poetry, drinking merrily. But the Imperial Academy forbade students from staying out overnight. So he devised a plan—digging a tunnel between the Academy and the brothel.”

The cost was enormous.

But he had studied the city’s drainage canals—deep and winding, known as the ‘Wuyou Cave’ or ‘Ghost Pavilion.’

He convinced classmates to help dredge them.

Thus a secret passage connected the two places.

By day he hid; by night he slipped out. That is the true meaning of those ‘apricot blossoms’—not blossoms on a tree, but the brothel itself.

Zhu Ruorong stared wide-eyed.

“How do you know all this so clearly?”

Tang Yi coughed awkwardly. “I heard it. Just heard it.”

Then he turned away, gazing toward the woods behind the Imperial Academy.