Chapter 28: The Premier Flower Terrace of the Great Tang

Having drunk the courage wine, Luo Gan, Han Xiaozhi, and Han Chong strode toward the arena with high spirits. Han Xiaozhi and Han Chong noticed that Luo Gan's face was flushed, as red as a baboon’s bottom.

Han Xiaozhi teased him, “Brother Luo, we’ve drunk the oath wine. We promised to walk this path together for life.”

“Walk? You walk! I’ll cover you. I’m not joking about earning that hundred gold,” Luo Gan declared with righteous conviction. Unlike others who coveted wealth in a timid, roundabout way, Luo Gan admitted his greed openly and without shame, making him impossible to dislike.

“Fine! You take the hundred gold, I want a courtesan. I’ve lived so long and never tasted the pleasures of a woman,” Han Chong grinned wickedly, as if victory were already his.

The three walked along almost laughing, not as men marching into battle, but more like drunken revelers stumbling home after a night of pleasure.

The “Blossom Stage” was erected, with thirty fine horses galloping back and forth to stir up excitement. The steeds circled the two poles standing three fathoms high in the center, their uppermost “Windy Eye” gazing disdainfully over the crowd, awaiting the hero who would send the ball through the gate and win thunderous applause. At the stage’s heart, a small table covered with red cloth awaited, and before it rose the multi-tiered VIP platform, furnished with rosewood chairs and platters of fruit and sweets, clearly distinguishing the privileged guests from the ordinary spectators standing nearby.

How to host an event with foolproof excellence? Luo Gan could not help but admire the strategy; the marketing style of Wangqing Pavilion would still be effective even in modern times. Beautiful women, meticulously dressed, distributed exquisite gifts to VIPs who paid the entrance fee. Free ginger tea was served, and every detail was attended to: ordinary guests enjoyed hot tea, while paying VIPs received special treatment.

The proprietor of Wangqing Pavilion stood in the most prominent spot below the stage, clad in red like a landed lord, greeting each distinguished guest with formal thanks. Today, the audience included not only regular patrons of Wangqing Pavilion, but also high-ranking officials from nearby, merchants adorned in pearls, famous courtesans, and talented scholars, all gathered under one roof.

Scarlet silk was hung high, lion dancers wove through the bustling crowd, showing off their acrobatics. Drums and gongs echoed; scholars competed to compose regulated verses, displaying their talents. Merchants gathered from all directions, using the opportunity to present “little” tokens of affection to the celebrated courtesans, hoping to win their favor. The three young gentlemen joined the bustle, while Prince Song, seated several rows away, maintained his usual air of aloofness. Not far off, Prefect Lu devoured creamy cherries, flanked by two burly men in plain clothes, swords at their hips.

On Wangqing Pavilion’s balconies, beauties of every kind crowded together: some dignified, some alluring, some noble, some delicate—every type imaginable, provoking cheers from the audience below.

A distinguished scholar bowed to the proprietor, who, startled, returned an even deeper bow and escorted him to the VIP platform.

The heavens themselves seemed to favor the day; unlike most days, it was not so cold. Through the gray clouds, sunlight sprinkled the earth, grudging yet welcome—like a winter night’s firepit, better than none. All of Anping's townsfolk cheered and believed that the “Blossoms Performing” event was blessed by heaven, a sign of auspiciousness, and they flocked out of their homes to join the celebration.

The endless crowd surged toward the stage, and Luo Gan and his companions could not help but marvel at the spectacle.

Han Chong, eager, rubbed his nose. “If we make a name for ourselves today, do you think we can choose any girl from the stage?”

Han Xiaozhi replied, “Brother, a gentleman only looks—never touches. Those are enchantresses; to touch them is to court disaster.”

Han Chong, dissatisfied, smacked Han Xiaozhi on the head. “Nonsense! What man would fear such enchantresses? Ridiculous! Let them come!”

He continued to hit Han Xiaozhi, who cried out in pain and hid behind Luo Gan, who shielded him.

“Enough. Our goal is this,” Luo Gan said, pointing toward the “Windy Eye.”

“If we win, which beauty wouldn’t swoon for our heroics? And the hundred gold—more than we could earn in decades. Gold in one hand, beauties in the other; you two can quarrel about it later!”

Both Han Chong and Han Xiaozhi were dazzled by Luo Gan’s vision of a glorious future, dreaming of reaching the summit of life. The three burst into wild laughter, as if victory were already theirs.

Though the balconies teemed with beauties, Luo Gan’s gaze was drawn to three women at the highest pavilion, all dressed in their finest—the top courtesans of Wangqing Pavilion. One, in particular, shone brightest in Luo Gan’s eyes: lightly powdered, radiating a hundred charms, her elegance capable of captivating the world. She wore a pink gauze dress, her lips crimson, her waist slender as willow in spring. Unlike the plump beauty favored in Tang times, hers was the grace of the Song dynasty—yet she commanded the admiration of all. No trace of frailty or affectation; she was as refreshing as spring sunlight, twirling a peach blossom fan.

She was Lady Jun Tao, the star of Wangqing Pavilion. To most, she was as unattainable as the highest tower, admired only from afar. Luo Gan remembered their night-long conversation, and upon seeing her again, his heart surged with excitement.

Han Chong threw an arm around Luo Gan’s shoulders. “Brother Luo, what are you ogling at? Hey—that’s the top courtesan of Wangqing Pavilion, isn’t it?”

Han Xiaozhi exclaimed, “No wonder she’s famed—she’s truly a peerless beauty!”

Han Chong retorted, “You brat, ‘peerless beauty’ is no way to describe a courtesan. Even I know that!”

Han Xiaozhi replied, “Then she’s a woman of a thousand charms!”

“Call her a femme fatale! At your age, you’re most likely to be seduced by beauty—don’t go giving your brother an unexpected nephew,” Han Chong scoffed.

Luo Gan grew impatient. “Enough about nephews and femme fatales. Our target is the money, understood?”

The two nodded, though somewhat reluctantly. Luo Gan gazed at Jun Tao’s visage, obsessed, entranced; in the sea of faces, no one mattered but her. No! Luo Gan reminded himself—this world was but an illusion; when the game ended, all would be dust. Only completing the task truly mattered.

At noon, the proprietor of Wangqing Pavilion stepped onto the center of the Blossom Stage, cleared his throat, and began his formal address.

“Today, we gather to witness the Blossoms Performing and the Grand Tang Cuju Tournament. Nobles, heroes, warriors, and beauties have all come to witness the birth of the tournament champion, who will receive one hundred gold coins!”

He gestured, and a servant unveiled the red cloth on the table, revealing the gleaming hundred gold coins. The audience gasped and murmured, their excitement instantly ignited.

Seeing the crowd’s enthusiasm, the proprietor proceeded, “Without further ado, let us welcome today’s cuju masters to the stage!”

Luo Gan, Han Xiaozhi, and Han Chong straightened their clothes, encouraged one another, and joined the other contestants backstage as they strode onto the platform together.