Chapter 12: Eliminating Evil (Part 2)

Chapter 12: Eliminating the Evil (Part 2)

In this establishment, disputes over beauty and talent were common occurrences, so Mother Yu was well accustomed to them. She had someone bring two round stools and place them to the left and right of Squire Zhao.

Finding the distance too great, Squire Zhao pulled one closer, patted the seat, and caught Zhaozhao’s gaze with a smiling eye. "Aren't you coming over yet?"

Zhaozhao could see clearly that there was no good intention in his eyes.

Suppressing her nausea, she sat down clutching her pipa and began to tune the strings, her fingers brushing against them.

Squire Zhao had no refined tastes and did not care for music. Seeing her slender fingers, he wasn't thinking about her skill; he was simply acting lecherous.

He pressed his knee against Zhaozhao’s skirt, his hand naturally sliding toward her leg. The moment he made contact, she grabbed him. He hadn't expected this little bitch to have such strength, nor did he expect her expression—half-smiling, half-not—to be so incredibly beautiful. "Master Zhao, if my playing is unsatisfactory later, you won't hold it against me, will you?"

The words carried a hint of feigned weakness. Squire Zhao always mistook a woman's weakness for flirtation. He squeezed Zhaozhao's hand back and replied with a heart full of lust, "I came here for you; how could I possibly hold it against you? No matter how you play, I will keep my ears wide open and listen intently!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the hearts of the watching ladies sank—what was there even to compare? The God of Wealth was clearly showing favoritism.

However, there were those who refused to accept defeat. They sat down on the empty round stool, poised like soldiers ready to battle Zhaozhao for supremacy.

Zhaozhao recognized this woman; when it came to playing the pipa, she was an undisputed expert in the establishment.

Looking at Zhaozhao, she said with confidence that bordered on arrogance, "Do you truly intend to compete with me on the pipa?"

"Aside from the pipa, I am not skilled in anything else," Zhaozhao said, tightening the strings. "I can only show my clumsiness and perform poorly in front of an elder sister."

The crowd thought Zhaozhao was being intentionally humble to avoid a humiliating loss. But when her hands touched the pipa and she began to stroke the strings lightly, everyone was startled. They hurriedly raised their hands to cover their ears, their backs tensing, unable to bear listening.

The pipa wasn't actually so bad as to be unendurable, but from time to time, it would emit sharp, screeching sounds like fingernails scraping against a wall. It made one's whole body go numb, making it impossible to tell exactly where the irritation was coming from.

Squire Zhao never expected Zhaozhao's musical skill to be this poor. By comparison, the braying of a donkey would sound like heavenly music.

He wished he could kick Zhaozhao ten miles away, but he couldn't. He had promised in front of everyone that he wouldn't hold it against her. Why had he spoken so grandly in the first place? And why had he let this little bitch sit so close?

Listening to the music was like undergoing torture; his features crumpled in agony. But since he had to save face, he didn't have the decency to cover his ears.

When Zhaozhao's hands left the strings, he and the crowd felt a collective sense of relief. He forced a smile and said, "Truly extraordinary." He then waved toward the lady who looked heartbroken by Zhaozhao's desecration of the pipa. "It is your turn."

As expected of a first-rate pipa expert, the lady played a few light notes, and the gloom on everyone's faces instantly dissipated. She played neither rushed nor hurried; her plucking and stroking didn't reveal any overwhelming technical brilliance—it wasn't like "Wind Through the Woods" or "Night Rain"—yet there was an indescribable quality to it. It could evoke an unspeakable melancholy in one's heart, only to soothe all resentment at just the right moment, leaving the listener with a peaceful and pure mind.

Even a man like Squire Zhao felt his lust subside somewhat. But once the lady finished her piece, he looked back at Zhaozhao's face and said meaningfully, "I think..." He trailed off, flicked a silver ingot toward Zhaozhao, and said, "You are still a notch above. A reward."

Holding the silver, Zhaozhao could not bring herself to be happy. The lady sitting opposite her turned pale with rage and left her seat indignantly.

As soon as she left, the whispering in the crowd grew dense. Everyone knew Squire Zhao was intentionally showing favoritism, but they dared not criticize a patron, so they took their anger out on Zhaozhao, scrambling to compete with her.

The process went without saying; Squire Zhao acted with ill intent to provoke them, so they naturally lost.

Seeing the silver by Zhaozhao's side pile up bit by bit, while the copper coins and silver ingots on the table gradually dwindled, the ladies looked at Zhaozhao with gazes that felt like stabbing knives.

Zhaozhao felt as if thorns were pricking her back. She won one match after another in a way that felt undeserved, and her original mischievous thoughts began to fade. Seeing the smile on Squire Zhao's face grow increasingly greasy, she realized she had truly walked into a trap—a dead end.

After an uncountable number of wins, Squire Zhao tossed the final silver ingot at Zhaozhao's feet.

Taking advantage of the moment she leaned down to pick it up, he asked in a voice only the two of them could hear, "If I sent a note tonight asking you to come to my manor, would you be willing?"

Zhaozhao stared at him and said without emotion, "Five hundred taels."

That meant she was not willing.

Squire Zhao's lip twitched. He kicked the silver ingot aside with his foot and said to the lady who had accepted her inevitable loss, "You won!"

Before the lady could react, he waved his hand grandly and threw all the money he had previously given Zhaozhao onto the floor, scattering silver and copper everywhere.

The crowd was stunned, not understanding the reason for his actions, until they heard him sneer, "It's a reward for you all. Are you not going to pick it up?"

"But wasn't this what you gave to Zhaozhao..." someone asked softly.

Before the words could even land, the teacup by Squire Zhao's hand flew out, hitting the ground with a loud crash. He barked, "Since when does even a bitch deserve to question me?!"

Seeing his sudden outburst, Mother Yu smiled nervously and tried to smooth things over. "Master Zhao is giving a reward; if he tells you to pick it up, then pick it up! What are you standing there for? Hurry up and thank the God of Wealth!"

The ladies murmured their thanks, their voices somewhat timid. After thanking him, they each bowed their heads to pick up the money, and as they picked, they began to scramble and fight, creating a noisy commotion.

Zhaozhao remained an outsider, calmly watching others pick up the money that hadn't even warmed her hands yet. She felt neither regret nor sadness—the man surnamed Zhao treated her like a plaything, doing as he pleased, simply because her origins were low and she had neither power nor influence.

Her skirt was suddenly tugged. Zhaozhao lowered her eyes to see a lady squatting by her stool, picking up money. The lady cautiously pointed at Zhaozhao's hand and the small spots of crimson on the floor.

It was blood.

Only then did Zhaozhao realize her hand was bleeding. After entering the room, she had played the pipa for several hours straight, intentionally tightening the strings to pierce Squire Zhao's ears. She had used too much force, and this was the price.

Squire Zhao caught sight of Zhaozhao's hand at that moment. His dark expression surfaced into a smile again. While pulling several ladies into his arms for intimacy, he instructed Zhaozhao, "Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you. Continue playing your pipa. I will stop when you stop. Don't go playing like a wailing ghost again... You wouldn't want me to get displeased and go cause trouble for your mother, would you?"

***

As dusk fell, Xiaoduo finished escorting the courtesans back to the establishment.

With a sweat towel draped over his shoulder and a stack of medicine and buns for Zhaozhao in his hands, he hummed a play tune as he entered. He ran into an acquaintance, a pimp, and pulled him aside to ask, "Xiao Ba, have you seen Zhaozhao? Is she in the front building or the back courtyard?"

Xiao Ba, carrying firewood on his shoulder, pointed his chin toward Mother Yu's large room and said with a bitter smile, "Mother Yu is scolding her... This time, she has truly suffered a great grievance."

(End of Chapter)