Bugui Tower

Dusk. The setting sun cast slanted rays as the chill of autumn deepened. Traffic along the official road south of Luoyang had dwindled early, until the sound of hoofbeats broke the quiet. Two fine horses galloped forward side by side from the distance. Three people rode atop them: Sun Yixie, Huang Donglai, and Chun Kong. Because Sun Yixie was weighed down with heavy luggage and the trident strapped across his back made sharing awkward, Chun Kong, who had hitched a ride, rode double with Huang Donglai. Fortunately, the young monk was not heavy and carried very little baggage, so taking him along for this short leg did not hinder their pace. To Chun Kong, traveling to Luoyang was probably no grand undertaking; even if he had failed to find anyone willing to give him a ride, walking would have taken only a few days. To Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai, however, getting here had been anything but easy. Although Huang Donglai's journey months ago from Shu to Hangzhou had been much longer, he had made that trip in a passenger coach operated by the High-Speed Rail Gang. Along the way, apart from taking in the roadside scenery, he had spent the time eating and sleeping at post stations, running into hardly anything exciting. His journey with Sun Yixie from Hangzhou to Luoyang, by contrast, had been an entirely different story. In less than a month, they had encountered all manner of extraordinary folk and bizarre happenings, forging several grudges and debts of honor along the way. Now this was what it truly felt like to roam the jianghu. *** Once inside the city gates, the two immediately sensed how Luoyang differed from anywhere else. The city was bustling with vibrant energy. While the roads outside the walls were already deserted, the main thoroughfare within was ablaze with lanterns and packed shoulder to shoulder with people. The closer they ventured toward the city center, the thicker the crowds grew. Street peddlers, acrobats, shops staying open well after nightfall, and wandering revelers who lingered without thought of going home—the entire city seemed swept up in a "nightlife" rarely seen in Da Ming. In years past, Luoyang only reached such heights for three or four days around the Mid-Autumn Festival. Even in years when it hosted the Youth Heroes Assembly, the festivities lasted seven days at most. This year, however, Sect Leader Shen of Luoyang's Justice Sect seemed determined to make the gathering grander and longer-lasting than ever before, stoking the festive atmosphere a full fortnight in advance. One should not imagine this was an easy feat. The decorative lanterns lining both sides of the main avenue alone cost a pretty penny, to say nothing of the "overtime pay" for peddlers and shopkeepers, the "protection fees" paid to local street thugs to help maintain order, the grease money slipped to the authorities to give the nightlife a green light, and so forth. With each passing day, this carnival-like night market burned through the Justice Sect's silver. Of course, such fanfare also brought them immense prestige. As mentioned earlier, running a large sect with over a hundred members was hard enough on its own; asking that sect to manage an extravaganza of this scale for nearly half a month on top of daily operations was a true test of its comprehensive strength. Beyond having deep pockets, high-level strategic planning, mid-level coordination, and grassroots execution were all essential. Pulling off an event with such flair and polish was equivalent to flaunting your muscle before your martial peers. And the achievement itself would become an intangible asset to show off whenever dealing with others in the future. Being natural troublemakers, Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai were captivated by the night market the moment they entered the city. On top of that, having finally reached their destination and being able to breathe easy, both were in soaring spirits, as if the exhaustion of the road had melted away. Chun Kong was different. As a monk, he valued tranquility, few desires, and staying out of trouble. Had Shaolin Monastery not received an invitation from the Justice Sect explicitly naming him, Chun Kong would never have dreamed of attending any Youth Heroes Assembly. Consequently, Chun Kong had zero interest in joining the revelry. Upon entering the city, he thanked the two for the lift, bid a hurried farewell, and headed off with his master's letter to lodge at the White Horse Temple. Of course, his departure was for the best. On the road from Mount Song, Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai had chatted with him and found the fellow to be insufferably earnest. In their eyes, the boy Chun Kong was like a lump of dough kneaded from naive flour and boring water, fermented with Buddhist teachings as yeast—a recipe that could only ever produce a bowl of plain noodles labeled "Eminent Monk." As for the two of them, one was a spicy hotpot bound to give you diarrhea, and the other was a seafood feast guaranteed to trigger your gout. They simply could not piss in the same pot with that monk. With Chun Kong gone, all the better; they were free to go wild in the night market. The pair first checked into an inn to dump their luggage and trident. Then they hit the streets, strolled for a bit, and found a roadside stall to sit down. Each ordered a bowl of donkey meat soup with flatbreads, filling their bellies about halfway. Afterward, they took to the streets again, watching acrobats perform tricks, browsing the cheap faux jewelry at curbside stalls, admiring the traditional craft of blown-sugar figurines, and drawing in deep breaths of that rich, blended aroma hanging in the air—food, rouge, earth, fodder, metal, horse manure, and lamp oil. It was pure bliss. You might ask: what is so wonderful about that? One can only say that this is called "the scent of humanity," or "the flavor of street life." In our modern times, especially in big cities, that scent is practically extinct. Older folk might still recall something similar from their childhood or memories of their hometowns, but the youth are far more acquainted with automobile exhaust and the stench of dog shit left on greenbelts by idiots who walk their dogs without a leash. Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai wandered until the third quarter of the Xu hour, around a quarter to nine in the evening, by which time the night market was winding down. The biological clocks of the ancients were far healthier than those of modern people. To most folk back then, staying up until nine at night felt much like staying up until midnight feels to us today—no matter how high your spirits, you would start yawning. (Of course, many modern people stay energetic all night long and only get sleepy at dawn; yes, I know you exist.) Consequently, the crowds thinned, and roadside vendors began packing up their stalls. Yet for Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai, the night was far from over; in fact, it had barely begun. Both were scions of reputable families. How could they not know that any sizable city had all-night establishments that never closed? In Da Ming, the vast majority of these nightspots were brothels. The most famous was Xinghui Tower, nestled in Shanghai County along the Jiangnan coast. It was said that many high-ranking court officials risked demotion and dismissal to sneak there in disguise for amusement, which spoke volumes of its extraordinary allure. Sun Yixie had always wanted to visit, but Old Master Sun kept him under strict supervision and forbade him from frequenting brothels. Never mind Xinghui Tower, he could not even set foot in the pleasure houses of Hangzhou. Huang Donglai was in a similar boat. For one thing, the Huang Clan of Shu was a renowned lineage, and as its sole young master, his upbringing was naturally strict. For another, their clan had declined in his generation; though not starving, they had no spare silver to squander in such establishments. Tonight was different. Far away in Luoyang, separated from home by vast distances, no one was around to police them. Moreover, they still had plenty of travel money in their purses. It was not that they were burning with lust, but having lived in this universe where brothels operated legally for so many years without ever visiting one, curiosity alone drove them to go see what the fuss was about. Thus, just as the Xu hour drew to a close, these two fools spotted an opulent, brightly lit building along the street. They exchanged sly grins and walked in together with broad smiles. Yet the moment they stepped inside, their smiles froze. They immediately realized that they had come to the wrong place. From the street, the sign out front read "Bugui Tower"—the Tower of No Return. A name like that depended on how you looked at it; if your mind was stuffed with brothels, it certainly sounded like one, but if you thought about it carefully, it would serve just as well as the name of a funeral home. Peering inward from outside, they had seen bright lanterns beyond the wide-open doors and a screen blocking the direct view. They had assumed that was standard: a screen kept out the dust and shielded the scandalous dealings between men and women within. Furthermore, just a few paces from the entrance, they could hear the mingled voices of men and women, quite a crowd of them. Though the words were muffled, the cheerful tone was unmistakable. All things considered, a casual glance at the entrance easily led one to mistake it for a brothel. Who would have guessed that once inside, it proved to be a completely respectable restaurant, a place for dining. Why was business so booming? Simply put, this was the finest restaurant in Luoyang. Not only was the food superb, but it operated exclusively as a night venue, opening each day at the You hour and staying open until the Zi hour. Wealthy, idle folk around town who hated sleeping at night loved coming here for late-night meals, so naturally, the place was packed. "Honored guests!" A middle-aged man dressed like a steward of a wealthy estate quickly approached them, speaking with polite poise. "The draft is strong by the door. Please come inside and take a seat." From this greeting alone, one could tell how unique this establishment was. When patrons arrived, they were not met by a scurrying waiter, but by a dedicated host. Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai looked at each other. Now that the man had welcomed them, could they really turn on their heels and leave? And ask him on the way out for directions to the nearest brothel? That would be downright humiliating. The two exchanged glances, shrugged, and silently agreed to make do right here. The ground-floor dining hall of Bugui Tower had plenty of tables, and even at a quarter to nine, it was roughly ninety percent full. The tantalizing aroma wafting from the dishes, the bliss on the diners' faces, and their merry chatter all confirmed that this establishment was indeed exceptional. The host led Sun and Huang to an empty table in the corner, paused, and asked, "Honored guests, will this spot suit you?" Sun Yixie thought to himself, *This spot is pretty lousy. There's a pillar right nearby, which makes serving dishes awkward.* He glanced around and saw only a few corner seats remaining in the hall, so he casually asked, "Are there any private booths available upstairs?" He asked purely out of habit. Back in Hangzhou, whenever he treated guests at higher-end restaurants, he always reserved private rooms. What he did not know was that the upper floor of Bugui Tower was not a place one could enter casually. Only the ground floor was open to anyone with silver. Dining upstairs was governed by special rules—which was precisely why the first floor was so crowded. "Oh..." The host blinked in surprise, but quickly flashed a practiced, professional smile. "Heh... there are indeed vacancies upstairs." He paused. "Do you... truly wish to go up, honored guests?" "What's there to be true or false about?" Detecting nothing amiss, Sun Yixie answered immediately, "Of course we're going up." Huang Donglai chipped in from the side, "Brother, chop-chop. We're both starving." He was telling the truth. The street snacks they had eaten earlier were mostly digested, and upon entering, the sight and scent of all that delicious food made their mouths water. "Very well... very well." Seeing their confident demeanor, the host extended an arm in a welcoming gesture. "Right this way, gentlemen. Follow me." With that, he led the two toward the stairs leading up to the second floor. And thus began Sun Yixie's blade duel against an old imperial chef, and Huang Donglai's battle of wits against Little Dezu.