Chapter 103: The Male Courtesan Takes the Stage

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Clad in splendid attire of red and white, with wide sleeves draping from the hands, his face painted stark white, and his flowing white robes stained with ink brush strokes, he bore the air of a master artist. Like a rare blossom blooming among millions, or a thunderclap striking the earth, his presence commanded attention. Wherever he went, pedestrians instinctively cleared a path, making way all the way to the far end of the dance floor; no one wished to disturb this enigmatic figure.

Du Ruhui’s face lengthened, displeased and uneasy. Xiao Yu and Changsun Wuji, however, felt little—what could a man in strange clothing possibly accomplish?

Under the broad daylight, could he have come with some hidden agenda? Emperor Taizong furrowed his brow, eyes narrowed in concentration, forgetting his dessert as he, like everyone else, fixed his gaze on the odd man.

The stranger’s robes fluttered as he moved deliberately, each step seemingly weighed down by some unseen burden.

When he reached Xiao Zhi, Liu Buwen, and Yan Shan, their eyes met. Yan Shan looked puzzled.

A surge of righteousness filled Xiao Zhi’s heart. Yan Shan was clearly his junior; Liu Buwen, a scholar, possessed some cunning in his mind but lacked courage. In critical moments, wasn’t it always up to him? He had never truly shown his mettle in previous encounters with the snow beast or during the cuju matches. Now the opportunity had come!

Xiao Zhi declared boldly, “Bold rebel! Don’t think you can lay a hand on us!”

Yan Shan and Liu Buwen were somewhat bewildered, unsure where Xiao Zhi’s courage came from in confronting a stranger.

The stranger tilted his head slightly, a faint smile curling his lips, as if mocking Xiao Zhi’s foolishness. The fiery youth felt insulted, determined to strike back.

The stranger took another step forward, and Xiao Zhi and the others retreated swiftly, unwilling to engage.

Liu Buwen asked politely, “May I inquire your purpose in seeking us, sir?”

Before the stranger could answer, Xiao Zhi interjected, “Purpose or no purpose! Let me tell you, the three of us are all of normal inclinations—we don’t fancy men.” He scrutinized the stranger from head to toe, adding emphatically, “And someone neither man nor woman? That’s absolutely out of the question!”

The stranger sneered coldly, his eyes filled with a sinister charm that made it impossible to discern his true thoughts.

Yan Shan found the stranger oddly familiar; his piercing gaze fixed on him sparked a daring hypothesis in his mind.

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“President?”

Jun Tao and Dai Zhi were too focused on their own contest to notice any commotion near the crowd. Their sole thought was to topple their opponent; neither wished to lose face before the capital’s onlookers.

After dancing for a long time, Dai Zhi’s feet began to cramp. A sudden spin nearly threw her off balance, but she recovered smoothly, moving like a dragonfly skimming water, leaving no trace. The audience erupted in applause.

Jun Tao, sensing his momentum faltering, could not afford to lose at this crucial moment. Placing his hand on the qin and leaning forward, he prepared to strike a powerful note. Suddenly, the tune shifted; the mournful melody vanished, replaced by a lament like a warrior severing his own arm.

The audience and nobles in the stands turned their attention back to Jun Tao; a single thread pulled the entire scene taut.

Liu Buwen clapped enthusiastically. “What a rendition of ‘Guangling San’! It sweeps away all despair like Jing Ke’s assassination attempt on the King of Qin—wind howling, cold waters of Yi, a hero departing with no return!”

Luo Gan twisted his head. “How come it’s completely different from the last time we heard it? Could there be multiple versions of ‘Guangling San’?” He was baffled. Spotting Xiao Zhi nearby, he clapped him on the shoulder and asked, “Xiao Zhi, didn’t we hear a different version at the Hundred Flowers Showcase?”

Though Xiao Zhi knew the stranger was Luo Gan, he still felt a chill when the man touched him, a wave of unease washing over him. He racked his brain, trying desperately to recall some memory, but to no avail.

“Brother Luo, I can’t remember. I think this is the same piece as before,” he replied.

Luo Gan glanced around at the bustling crowd, noting the varied reactions—far more genuine than the stiff responses during the Hundred Flowers Showcase. Most importantly, Jun Tao’s qin sounded vivid and lively, a stark contrast to the previous cacophony.

Opening the system interface in his vision, Luo Gan searched for relevant information, only to discover a new “homepage function,” reminiscent of an online game with a vastly changed interface.

Apparently, during the recent equipment acquisition, the system underwent maintenance and upgrades, explaining why he had to pick up the gear anew.

The AI assistant flashed a message: System upgraded to version V2.1309841. Update notes: added homepage function, damage warning feature, map replay positioning, music and audience interaction mod, expanded strategy library options, title system, and bounty system.

Over a hundred chapters in, and they finally added a new feature—what had they been doing before?

The AI quipped, “Microsoft sells the system first, then patches it. That’s progress.”

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Despite the delay, new features were always welcome, offering some assistance to the game. The “Strategy Library” caught Luo Gan’s eye—what exactly did strategy entail?

He clicked through to find a large tech tree, roots tangled with categories like “Strategists,” “Thieves,” and “Warriors.” Following upward branches revealed various memory points and reference strategies.

Opening one showed that the “Winter Flower” fake flower strategy was already marked under “Strategists” as “Replacing the Peach with a Plum.” Further details were incomplete.

Luo Gan muttered, “Hey, this patch isn’t finished properly. They rushed it online—isn’t that disrespectful to users?”

Shortly, the AI responded: “At least it’s better than nothing. You don’t know how hard we programmers work! We start at ten in the morning and finish at two in the afternoon. Few companies are as pragmatic as we are.”

Though exasperated, Luo Gan appreciated the useful information. Jun Tao’s “Guangling San” was clearly an optimized result of the system upgrade. But what piece should he perform next? He was at a loss.

Just then, the AI wasn’t idle, flashing another subtitle.

Jun Tao and Dai Zhi’s performance ended to enthusiastic applause. The hosting official invited them offstage, but due to the audience’s fervent response, both returned to express thanks.

Soon after, Luo Gan’s name was called. Dressed in his eccentric costume, he stepped onto the stage, drawing the audience’s full attention. Silence fell as all eyes watched.

“Look at that—can you tell if it’s male or female?” a minister muttered, shaking his head to his companions.

“A female entertainer seeing oddities is nothing new, but a man? That’s a first—quite the rarity.”

Emperor Taizong seemed to anticipate an entertaining spectacle but wondered whose idea it was to have a man perform in such a manner.

Luo Gan stood firm onstage, took a deep breath, and gazed at the thousands below. In his heart, he resolved to treat them all as mere fools. After all, as the saying goes, “Fortune favors the bold!”