Chapter 25: The Butcher Speaks

At present, it is clear that the Peach Blossom Fan does not belong to this era, and the Sima County Magistrate is indeed suspicious, but to visit him rashly without name or cause would likely only result in being turned away. The most reliable approach now seems to be to seek out Lady Jun Tao.

After a brief rest at the Liu residence, Luo Gan donned a thick cotton coat and stepped out once more to visit the Wangqing Pavilion.

Unfortunately, the gates of Wangqing Pavilion were tightly shut. Outside, a grand stage was being erected. A dozen men clustered about, hammering and assembling, the structure already taking shape. Nearby, others beat drums and cymbals to urge them on, pressing for speed.

Luo Gan pulled aside a young man and asked, “Brother, what are you all up to?”

“Building the stage! The day after tomorrow, the Flowers will perform together. If the stage isn’t ready, everyone’s in trouble!”

“The Flowers performing together? What’s that?”

“Can’t you see we’re busy? Move along, move along,” the young man answered impatiently, then hurried back to his work.

Many of the small shops around Wangqing Pavilion were shuttered. Only a few scattered stores selling daily necessities remained open, their proprietors listless, stretching occasionally, with scarcely any customers coming by.

The brilliance of Wangqing Pavilion on that night was still fresh in Luo Gan’s memory. Now, an uncommon harsh winter had swept in, leaving the bustling town cold and deserted. The biting chill drove people to seek escape beyond the city walls; if it continued, Anping County would truly become a ghost town.

Inside, a butcher’s shop caught his eye. The shopkeeper, face hidden beneath a headscarf, let his knife rest carelessly on the chopping block, surrendering all to the freezing wind. Meat was wrapped tightly, and only when a heavily bundled customer asked for the price did the butcher cautiously unwrap it for inspection.

Luo Gan approached to take a look; the meat had frozen solid. Tang Dynasty had no refrigerators—left like this, the meat would soon become the first batch of zombie meat, fit for relics.

The butcher spotted Luo Gan and leapt up. “Ah Luo! You’re back again?”

Luo Gan was taken aback, but the butcher laughed in his deep voice, pulling off his headscarf—it was none other than Master Hu!

Old friends meeting again brought much joy. It was Master Hu who had guided Luo Gan through the wonders of Wangqing Pavilion on his previous visit.

“It’s cold outside, let’s talk inside,” Master Hu warmly invited him in. Once Luo Gan entered, Hu pulled the curtain over the meat and closed shop.

The small butcher’s stall had a front shop and a back room. Inside, lamb and pork were scattered about, and a worker lay resting on a chair. Master Hu motioned for Luo Gan to keep his voice down so as not to disturb his hardworking comrade.

They went into the inner room and sat. Master Hu took out some tea leaves and slowly brewed tea. The room contained a bed, three chairs, a tea table, and a collection of cookware—all seemed complete.

Luo Gan vaguely remembered that Master Hu used to dabble in tea trading. Now, a butcher’s knife in hand—it was rather puzzling.

“Old Hu, I recall you weren’t in this line before. Why the change?”

“Ah, that’s right. I do business as I please. One must adapt to survive.”

“You’re the shopkeeper and a butcher now. Isn’t that a waste of your talents?”

Master Hu finished brewing the tea, serving each a cup, the fragrance of flowers wafting from it.

“I consulted a fortune-teller. He said I have a restless fate—if I want to prosper, I mustn’t stick to one trade.”

“A fortune-teller? Isn’t Buddhism all the rage these days? Wealth is but an external thing; you can’t take it with you when you die.”

“Ah, don’t believe all that. We can’t even manage this life, much less think about the next. Besides, I tell you, Daoism has more promise now.”

From what Luo Gan knew, Daoism’s glory in politics was fleeting. In the early Western Han, ‘Huang-Lao’ non-action was indeed revered, but afterwards, Confucianism and Legalism dominated.

“If you govern by non-action, wouldn’t the world fall into chaos?”

“Not so. The current Emperor is surnamed Li, same as Laozi of Daoism. The Sui Dynasty promoted Buddhism, but now the Tang seeks innovation—a new world is dawning.”

“Master Hu, your insight is remarkable,” Luo Gan praised.

Had it been before, Luo Gan would have argued the point, eager to win even a verbal spar. Now, it seemed better to offer a simple, “You’re right,” and let it pass—everyone pleased, no trouble spared.

“By the way, I saw Wangqing Pavilion setting up a stage.”

“Brothel business is hard these days. The proprietors decided to liven things up with the Flowers’ performance.”

“Are they all turning virtuous and singing opera?”

“Who knows? It starts in a few days. They say famous courtesans from all over the country will participate—it’s a grand affair.”

“Will Lady Jun Tao… be there?”

“Jun Tao? The top courtesan of Wangqing Pavilion! If she doesn’t attend, who can represent Anping County’s prowess?”

Hearing that Lady Jun Tao would take part, Luo Gan felt relieved. No need to search for her—when the time came, she would appear.

After bidding farewell to Master Hu, Luo Gan walked a short distance toward the county post station, where he encountered a tall, robust man riding up and stopping before him.

Han Chong, atop his horse, grinned broadly at Luo Gan.

“Han Chong? Well, look at you!”

“Thanks to you, Ah Luo, for forgiving and helping me.”

Upon closer inspection, the horse’s mouth was cracked and dry, clearly parched and weary. A bundle lay strapped to its back.

Han Chong dismounted, took the bundle, led the horse to the trough by the post station, tied it up, then turned to Luo Gan.

“Just returned from elsewhere to see the new governance of the Zhenguan era. It’s a whole new world.”

“Three days apart, and you’re a changed man—truly a gentleman, impressive!” Seeing Han Chong now on the right path, Luo Gan felt especially gratified.

“Ah, what’s a gentleman? I have neither flowers nor butterflies—just a man with nothing.”

“Not at all. I’ve seen Xiao Zhi and Bamboo Zhang—they seem to be doing well.”

“Those two? My little brother loves fiddling with wood carvings—who knows what great invention he’s plotting. Bamboo Zhang’s cooking has improved a lot; he keeps pestering me to try his roast pork.” Han Chong boasted, the former terrifying ‘Red Ogre of Anping’ nowhere to be seen.

Luo Gan smiled and nodded.

“Brother Luo, I’m delivering this bundle to Old Lady Zhang. The agreed time is less than an hour away.”

“Haha, the Red Ogre of Anping is now a helpful soul.”

Han Chong scratched his head, embarrassed. “You’re too kind. We don’t call ourselves Red Ogre anymore. Doing good and accumulating virtue, hoping for a bit of luck.”

“You’ve truly grown—a pillar of the world.” Luo Gan bowed to Han Chong, who returned the gesture.

Han Chong, bundle on his back, bid Luo Gan farewell. Along the way, townsfolk greeted him, and Han Chong responded to each with hearty warmth. Watching Han Chong’s departing figure, Luo Gan thought how wonderful it would be if everyone were so honest and good-hearted.