Chapter Forty-One: The Pact of Misty Rain Pavilion (Part 1)

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Liu Xinru wept bitterly, overcome with grief, nearly fainting from the intensity of her sorrow.

Her given name was Liu Feiyan, born to a prosperous merchant family in the southern lands, her childhood sheltered in wealth and peace. Yet disaster descended without warning: her father, a silk merchant, offended a powerful local gentryman. In the collusion between officials and landlords, her father was cast into prison, where he died under cruel torment; her mother, unable to bear the devastation of their family’s ruin, hanged herself in despair.

At only six years old, Liu Feiyan was sold by the gentryman into a brothel, her name changed to Liu Xinru. In the blink of an eye, ten years slipped away, and she became renowned as a courtesan of Jiangnan.

Yet a famed courtesan is still a courtesan. The saying “selling art but not the body” was little more than a hollow slogan, a fig leaf for spiritual self-deception, or perhaps just a ploy for the brothel to raise her price. If she did not soon redeem herself and leave this life, in time, Liu Xinru would end up like all the others—entertaining clients nightly, trading laughter for endless coin, and, when beauty faded, driven out to die in obscurity.

The misery of her fate, and the prospect of an even more wretched future she could almost touch, pressed upon the proud heart of Liu Xinru like a mountain, suffocating her day after day. Even with a faint glimmer of hope now before her, it was as insubstantial as a flower reflected in a mirror, a moon shimmering on water—her lofty dreams doomed to be shattered by a fragile destiny.

Memories of the past, dread for the future, a thousand burdens of misfortune—at last, the final thread of resilience in this sixteen-year-old girl’s heart snapped. Her spirit crumbled; she could hold on no longer, nor did she wish to.

“My lady, please don’t cry. Tian’er knows how much you have suffered, my lady…” The maid Tian’er tried to offer comfort, but sorrow overwhelmed her as well. Unable to help herself, she embraced Liu Xinru and wept.

The two ill-fated sisters clung to each other, hands tightly entwined and eyes brimming with tears, muffling their sobs so no outsider would hear. If the madam found out, Tian’er would not escape a vicious beating and punishment.

“My lady, I’ll go find Kong Sheng right away. No matter what, I’ll make him agree to marry you. You are as beautiful as a flower and gifted beyond compare—he would be blessed to have your hand! How could he be dissatisfied?” Tian’er wiped her tears and declared, “That man used to come every day, begging for your favor—was all that just an act? Could he really watch you be humiliated?”

Liu Xinru sighed softly, gradually stifling her sobs. “Tian’er, I, too, cannot understand how the young master of the Kong family changed so much from before. Truthfully, even if he covets my beauty, he would never make me his wife… If blame must fall, let it fall on my wretched fate.”

“You do not understand, Tian’er. Whether he was a rake in the past or now a celebrated scholar of Jiangnan, he is still the descendant of a noble family. Though his house may have declined, he would never marry someone of such lowly status as me—a songstress. As for Master Zhou, his intentions were never pure; he only wanted to use me to ensnare Kong Sheng. Now that his schemes have failed, he bares his fangs and uses threats and coercion to the fullest.”

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“Ah…” Liu Xinru reached out to gently caress Tian’er’s pale, wan face, speaking tenderly, “Tian’er, I have resigned myself to my fate, but you are still young. In a few days, I will speak to the madam and use my years of savings to buy your freedom. Leave this den of filth as soon as you can, find a good man and marry. As long as you live well, I will have no regrets.”

Tian’er wept as if her heart would break. “My lady, I will never leave you! I would rather die than leave your side!”

Misty Rain Pavilion.

This establishment, sharing a name with the famed Misty Rain Pavilion of Jiangnan, was instead the largest high-end entertainment venue in the city of Jiangning, combining teahouse and tavern under one roof. Though only two stories tall, its double-eaved, painted beams, vermilion pillars, and bright windows towered above the surrounding rows of low shops, giving it a commanding presence.

From the eastern corridor of the Misty Rain Pavilion, one could gaze out at the grand city gates and, beyond them, the sweeping expanse of the Longteng Zhongshan mountains. A great river wound around the city, its roaring waves ever audible, stirring the soul with a sense of boundless freedom.

Because the eldest Miss of the Yang family was visiting, the owner, Meng Chong, discreetly cleared the eastern private rooms on the second floor. Thus, when Kong Sheng arrived, guided by Hongmian, he saw the ethereal figure of Yang Xueruo standing by the window, her robes fluttering in the breeze, looking almost otherworldly.

Hongmian shot Kong Sheng a warning glance, signaling him to go over on his own. Kong Sheng smiled calmly and walked over lightly.

“You’ve come,” Yang Xueruo turned and smiled, her expression so pure and radiant that Kong Sheng’s heart skipped a beat. He bowed, “Greetings, Miss Yang.”

Yang Xueruo returned his greeting with gentle grace. “Xueruo greets you… sir.”

Kong Sheng stepped forward, the two of them standing side by side with only a person’s width between them, both gazing into the distance. Yet a hint of awkwardness lingered in the air.

At last, it was the girl who broke the silence, her voice soft: “Hongmian and I went to the inn and heard you visited the Rose Pavilion…”

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There was a subtle note of inquiry and probing in the gentle voice. Kong Sheng smiled, not denying it. “That’s right. The songstress Liu Xinru from the Rose Pavilion invited me to a banquet. I could not refuse, so I went.”

“Oh? I’ve heard of Liu Xinru by reputation as well. They say she is gifted and beautiful, a master of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, and an exceptional dancer—the most celebrated courtesan of Jiangnan,” Yang Xueruo smiled, turning to look at Kong Sheng.

Kong Sheng’s mouth twitched—he thought, You have more than just heard of Liu Xinru! You invited her twice to perform at your poetry gatherings at Wangjiang Tower, so why pretend ignorance today? He understood that whatever answer he gave would be caught in the web of the girl’s clever scheming. So, he simply smiled in silence, waiting for her next words.

“I’ve also heard that you used to visit the Rose Pavilion every day, just to win a smile from the beauty; now that Liu Xinru herself has invited you to a banquet, you must have gotten your wish? If so, let me offer you my congratulations, sir!” A faint, enigmatic smile played on Yang Xueruo’s beautiful face as she spoke, half in jest, half in earnest. Her tone was light, yet her heart was taut with nervous tension, her eyes fixed on Kong Sheng’s face, not even blinking.

So, her true purpose in all these roundabout questions was to find out whether he liked Liu Xinru, or even if something more substantial had passed between them. Kong Sheng did not hesitate, responding calmly, “In ancient times, King You of Zhou set the beacons alight just to make a beauty smile; and the Emperor Xuanzong sent a thousand horses to bring lychees from Lingnan for his beloved concubine. But who am I—what virtue or worth do I have—to seek a beauty’s smile?”

With these words, Kong Sheng neither answered directly nor evaded; he circled around the question, sidestepping the past to meet the present head-on.

“As for Miss Liu’s invitation, it was simply to thank me for a matter at the tea gathering the other day. I did nothing to deserve such gratitude, and in truth, feel quite unworthy of it.”

At this, Yang Xueruo’s eyes sparkled instantly. What a clever girl she was—she had drawn from Kong Sheng exactly the answer she sought. The joy and relief in her heart were beyond the power of words to convey.