Chapter Forty: Inviting for Drinks, Not for Debauchery
The sun was setting behind the western hills, its golden light shattering through the branches as dusk descended. Emerging from the Demon Suppression Tower, the vast headquarters of the Demon Execution Bureau felt emptier than ever.
He Chang’an trudged along with a large bundle of books on his back, following behind Jiang Jifeng and Wu Jincao, his brow furrowed in worry.
The Demon Execution Bureau, it seemed, did not provide room or board.
Which meant, until the next month’s wages were paid, He Chang’an had to find a way to rent a place in Chang’an City.
“Damn it, back to being a slave to rent…”
“Chief Jiang,” Wu Jincao said, his face cold but his words unexpectedly risqué, “this kid He Chang’an just joined today. Tonight, should we… warm him up?”
“We should, indeed. Shall we go to the Teaching Bureau?” Jiang Jifeng laughed. “It’s been two months since I last heard Jinse play. I feel the world’s vulgarity clinging to me.”
“You’ve heard Miss Jinse play?” Wu Jincao asked, his expression still frosty.
“Utterly uncultured!” Jiang Jifeng shot Wu Jincao a look of disdain. “A beauty playing the zither—her music faint but enchanting, stirring the soul and evoking affection…”
“So, you can’t afford her. Can’t even get close to her, so you settle for sipping tea in the parlor?” Wu Jincao sneered.
“…”
“…”
Wu Jincao’s cold manner and even colder countenance had seemed rather cool to He Chang’an at first; but the moment he opened his mouth, he sounded almost like a scholar.
“In that case, let’s head to the House of Blossoms. Their aged Huadiao wine is superb—the best way to welcome our new brother,” Jiang Jifeng suggested with a smile.
“It’s called aged carved-flower wine, isn’t it? Not going, not going.” Wu Jincao glanced at He Chang’an, forcing a rare smirk onto his stiff face. “Don’t pick up bad habits from Chief Jiang. The courtesans he likes—if you work hard enough, you might just be old enough to be their son…”
“Chief Jiang just has refined tastes…” He Chang’an offered a sheepish laugh.
“Tastes?” Wu Jincao nodded slightly, then gave a cold chuckle. “That’s the scholar in you talking—well summarized. But if it were up to Chief Jiang, he’d call it savoring.”
…
And so, the three of them ended up at the Xiaoxiang Pavilion after all.
There was no deeper reason—just that it was young and cheap.
Rumor had it that Miss Yanluo of the Xiaoxiang Pavilion was the most charming of all: slender brows, willow eyes, alluring curves, and when she played her Xiao, even the city’s noble sons would weep into their sleeves…
“Going to a brothel with these rough martial types feels all kinds of wrong…”
“Appreciating the Xiao, I get it—it’s supposed to be soft and weepy, enough to bring tears. So why even bother with the wine?”
But He Chang’an dared not voice his doubts.
After all, someone else was footing the bill. No matter how unpalatable the fare, he could swallow it with tears if need be…
The three of them strolled through the streets of Chang’an, patrolling as they made their way toward the red-light district. Along the way, Jiang Jifeng “indoctrinated” He Chang’an with many of the Demon Execution Bureau’s rules. For example, the red-light district was their joint patrol area; they only needed to make rounds now and then.
Regular law enforcement was handled by the Imperial Guards, county constables, and fast-runners—there was no need for them to involve themselves.
The primary duty of the Demon Execution Bureau was to monitor officials, slay demons, exorcise evil, and oversee matters concerning cultivators.
A demon executioner’s monthly wage was meager—not even thirty taels of silver; but the rewards for completing demon-slaying missions assigned from above were lavish—a single job could earn enough to buy a five-square-meter bathroom in Chang’an.
At the same time, He Chang’an learned for the first time that Confucian disciples, Daoists, and Buddhists were not considered “heretical paths,” but rather targets for suppression…
…
They drank until midnight. Jiang Jifeng, ever generous, tossed out seven taels of silver and was led inside by two hostesses of Xiaoxiang Pavilion, not to reappear.
Wu Jincao, just as freehanded, left a handful of loose silver to settle the bill for wine, tea, and their earlier parlor games, and was also escorted inside.
As he left, his tongue thick with drink, he called out, “Brother, sorry for treating you to wine but not the women!”
He Chang’an gnashed his teeth in frustration, wishing he could throw out a handful of silver and be led away himself…
Unfortunately, he had less than two taels on him, with more than twenty days to go before the next payday…
Even if he wanted to be stiff, he just couldn’t.
On top of that, bringing a bundle of books to the brothel for music earned him plenty of mockery from the courtesans, who joked that only scholars would carry books into a bordello—truly the mark of one who rises at the crow of dawn to study.
“Life in Chang’an is expensive and hard to come by…”
…
Helpless, He Chang’an hefted his bundle of books and left the Xiaoxiang Pavilion, lingering for a long while beneath two enormous red lanterns, each larger than a donkey’s head.
The night wind was cool and clear as water.
Behind him was a world of revelry; ahead, the road shone bright, lanterns flickering in the distance. Was this Chang’an?
“Those two old lechers—if they wouldn’t buy me a woman, they could at least lend me a few taels. At least I’d have a place to stay tonight…”
He Chang’an shook his head and smiled wryly.
Better to find a cheap inn for the night and worry about tomorrow then.
Could he really be a demon executioner and not afford a place to stay? Those people probably never noticed that a newcomer in Chang’an was, in truth, little better than an ant.
He Chang’an walked on, pondering, reviewing every possible way to earn some silver. None seemed likely to bring quick riches—unless…
“Brother, please wait.”
Suddenly, a deep male voice echoed from a dark alley. Three men emerged, forming a triangular formation to block He Chang’an’s way.
“We’re a bit strapped for cash lately. How about lending us a few taels, brother?”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Speak of the devil—just when I was fretting over money, here come some robbers…”
He Chang’an had already noticed the trio. But as newly minted martial novices, he could probably make one of them cry with a single punch, so he remained calm.
“Gentlemen, I’m new here and unfamiliar with the ways of Chang’an. Please, forgive me if I offend.” He Chang’an cupped his fists in greeting, startling the three would-be robbers.
“Oh, by the way,” He Chang’an continued as he opened his bundle, “the ancients say, ‘Within books lie beauties as fair as jade, within books lie houses of gold.’ Which would you prefer—beauty or gold?”
What on earth? A scholar?
Scholars didn’t have the best reputation in Chang’an—they were poor, sharp-tongued, and, worse, most martial types couldn’t even best them in a fight…
Seeing the young man emerge from a brothel with a bulging bundle, they’d thought he was a fat new arrival ripe for the plucking—who’d have guessed he was a scholar.
Bad luck, bad luck, let’s go.
The three were decisive: one look into the bundle revealed it was stuffed with nothing but books. Cursing their luck, they turned to leave.
“Hold it there… None of you are leaving!” He Chang’an tried to invoke the Confucian “Word Follows Law” technique, but his words lacked conviction; nothing happened, and the three robbers darted off into the alley.
His face reddened. Thank heavens there weren’t any other scholars nearby, or he’d have died of embarrassment. He tried again: “Return to five seconds ago, you thieves!”
And so, the three robbers returned, bewildered, to their original positions, cursing the shamelessness of scholars. Cheating on exams was one thing; cheating in a fight as well—it was simply outrageous!
With a cheerful smile, He Chang’an strode over and felled each with a single punch, dragging them by their topknots into the darkness of the alley to frisk them.
“Even poorer than me? Three people together, and not even three taels between them?”
This unexpected encounter with muggers yielded little reward, leaving the anxious and cash-strapped He Chang’an even more frustrated. He gave them a sound kicking.
The three howled in pain, making his teeth itch with annoyance.
“Forget it. It’s my first day on the job—better to avoid complications. Finding a cheap inn is more urgent.”
Just as He Chang’an hoisted his bundle and prepared to leave, a black mist appeared on the foreheads of the three “robbers.” Their auras suddenly surged, and they lunged at him, clutching at his waist and legs.
All three began to emit guttural, inhuman sounds. Their eyes turned blood-red, wild and frenzied, and they opened their mouths to bite…