Chapter 11: The Girl from Red Bridge

A sharp shout came from the elegant room on the second floor.

“Second Miss, how dare you bring me to such a plain place?”

Zhu Zhuo watched as several young ladies dressed in Western-style attire performed the Feitian dance, their exposed waists and thighs barely covered.

The slits in their skirts were even more revealing than those seen on the Spring Festival Gala.

This was the greatest insult to a cultured youth and Cadillac owner like himself, who had seen countless performances.

“Isn’t this quite thrilling?”

Seeing Li Jinglong’s nose start to bleed like a lustful pig, Zhu Zhuo grew even more displeased. This show was far less daring than any modern tourist attraction.

“What else is there besides watching the performance?”

“Uh, eating and drinking. Do you want to go downstairs to the hall and compose poetry with the scholars?”

Looking at the table laden with dishes, Zhu Zhuo was disappointed. This was even worse than a contemporary music restaurant, where at least a Korean girl group might dance.

Bored to sleep, Zhuo finally stood and called Aunt Wu over.

Leaning in, he whispered.

But Aunt Wu replied seriously, “Young master, though my daughters and I are of humble status, we are respectable people.”

Zhuo immediately placed two ingots of fifty taels each on the table before her.

Aunt Wu tucked the silver into her bosom and smiled, “Please wait a moment, young master.”

Li Jinglong’s heart pounded wildly—was something big about to happen?

Soon, several large teapots were carried upstairs along with two reclining chairs and wooden tubs.

Placed before them, Zhuo took off his outer robe and shoes, reclining comfortably.

Before long, Aunt Wu returned with two buxom girls dressed in low-cut, high-slit dresses.

“Master Xu, are you satisfied?”

Zhuo nodded toward the highest point of the room and said, “Bring in someone who can play and sing.”

Li Jinglong chimed in, “Brother Xu, the Red Bridge girls here are the finest performers in Jinling, both in music and refined courtesanship. Many nobles long for their company.”

“Then I want the Red Bridge girl.”

Aunt Wu hesitated. “Young master, Hongqiao has been with me since childhood; I treat her like a daughter.”

“One hundred taels.”

“It’s not about the money. Hongqiao rarely sees guests, only those she favors.”

“Two hundred taels.”

“My daughter has been taught by renowned masters since youth. Though she may lack in some areas, her poetry and songs are impeccable.”

“Five hundred taels. Not a cent more, or I’m gone.”

“Please wait a moment. If she refuses, I will have her brought here myself.”

Li Jinglong’s eyes widened—was that even allowed?

Zhuo smirked coldly. “Uncle here is very wealthy.”

The two girls poured flower petals, goji berries, and herbs into the wooden tubs.

Zhuo skillfully dipped his feet into the water. The masseuse coyly asked, “Master, is the water warm enough?”

How could he not know if it was hot? So he instinctively asked, “Are there many girls like you here? Where are you from? Do you have siblings studying?”

The masseuse laughed softly, “Master jokes. We are of humble status, so we have no right to study.”

Zhuo thought he needed to change this habit of encouraging others to reform.

Li Jinglong tried to imitate him.

“This is so comfortable. I never knew foot baths could feel this good.”

Seeing Zhuo close his eyes and ignore him, he continued, “Brother Xu, you sure know how to enjoy yourself. You don’t do this kind of thing back at the palace... or your home, do you?”

Zhuo cursed inwardly. If he did this in front of him, even a belt made of rhinoceros hide would snap.

After the foot bath, Zhuo placed his dried feet on the girls’ laps and pointed to pressure points for them to massage.

“Ah... oh... Brother Xu, I’m about to give in.”

Li Jinglong’s moaning annoyed Zhuo.

“If you keep making noise, I’ll throw you into the Qinhuai River. With your level of endurance, if you went to ISO0769, you’d blow your top immediately.”

“Brother Xu, what is ISO0769?”

“Uh...” Zhuo wanted to say it was the location of his secret stash.

After waiting a long time with no one arriving, Zhuo grew irritated. He thought it would have been better to just watch those Feitian dances again; at least that would liven up the atmosphere.

Just pressing wasn’t enough to hold back his impulses. “Go ahead and massage, don’t just stare at me like that.”

It wasn’t that she wasn’t ample; if he dared to lose control, he’d be disowned by the Zhu family and end up begging on the streets of Nanjing.

Meanwhile, Li Jinglong the lecherous was already groping the girls, making Zhuo’s mouth go dry.

“If you dare lay a hand on her again, I’ll shake your father.”

Little Li Jinglong snapped to attention, then relaxed in fear.

---

Zhuo spat in disdain. Such shameless scoundrels.

“Slave Zhang Hongqiao greets the two young masters.”

A slender, jade-like hand gently pushed open the door. A graceful woman stepped in, wearing a red dress with a white vest. Her long neck resembled a swan’s, her dark hair pinned with a red hairpin. Her eyes, like autumn moons beneath double eyelids, bore a face as beautiful as peach blossoms but cold as frost.

Seeing the scene before her, the woman frowned, clutching a pipa. “What would the two young masters like to hear?”

“Uh, can you play the ‘Battle Array of the Moon Palace’?”

“Are you here to amuse me, young master?” Zhang Hongqiao’s brows furrowed deeply, tears staining her face, her eyes slightly swollen—a fractured beauty.

“Uh, play whatever you like.”

Besides the Battle Array melody of the Qin King, old Zhuo in the palace didn’t know the popular tunes of this era.

“Then I shall play a piece called ‘Scenery of Qinhuai’ for you.”

“I have a love story to sing to you all,

Qinhuai flows gently, from Pangu to now,

The splendid Southland, the refined elegance of Jinling,

In Zha Garden, the halls are spacious and deep,

At Egret Isle, the waters ripple, a paradise beyond the world.”

Zhang Hongqiao’s clear, cool voice and soft Wu dialect enchanted Zhuo, making him feel as if he were not in a brothel but at a grand hall watching a gala.

The only flaw was that she was weeping, her face streaked with tears.

He glanced at Li Jinglong, who was snoring like a dead pig.

Such lack of spirit, and they hadn’t even reached the back-rubbing part yet.

He waved the masseuse girls away.

“Stop crying. If you don’t want to sing, you don’t have to. If the constables come, I won’t be able to explain.”

Zhang Hongqiao lowered her head, clutching a handkerchief as tears fell.

Zhuo was helpless. “Come on, you must be hungry. Have something to eat first.”

At this, Zhang Hongqiao finally looked up at him but said nothing.

Without tissues in these days, Zhuo took out a handkerchief to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“Don’t cry, your makeup’s all smudged—you look like a little flower cat.”

“Here, have something to eat.”

Zhang Hongqiao looked at the leftover cold dishes that Li Jinglong had barely touched and turned away with a disdainful pout.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t eaten all day.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I want to eat sweet red bean buns.”

“Ask the madam to buy you some.”

“I want the red bean buns from Wuyi Lane.”

Seeing Zhang Hongqiao clutching her handkerchief, ready to cry again, Zhuo was exasperated. He kicked the deadweight Li Jinglong, but there was no response.

“Damn it, I came here to spend money, and Wuyi Lane is ten miles away. I must be crazy.”

Zhuo punched his forehead and staggered downstairs.

He borrowed a swift horse from Aunt Wu and galloped off.

Upstairs, Zhang Hongqiao leaned on the windowsill, gazing dreamily at his retreating figure, clutching the handkerchief tightly.

Fifteen minutes later, Zhuo returned, breathless, and pushed open the door.

Zhang Hongqiao immediately grabbed his hand, concerned. “Young master, why is your hand bleeding?”

“I went to buy the red bean buns, but the shop was closed. I kicked open the door and dragged the owner out of bed.”

“He called me a crazy night owl. You know how hot-tempered I am—how could I stand that?”

“Did you get into a fight?”

“We’re not hooligans. I smashed up his shop and took all the buns. Don’t worry, they’re all here; I didn’t pay.”

He threw his robe wrapped around the buns on the table. Zhang Hongqiao’s eyes moistened at the mountain of buns.

“Please wait a moment. I’ll fetch the medicine chest.”

“Ah, it’s just a scratch…”

Before he finished, Zhang Hongqiao had already run out.

When she returned, she had removed her earrings and makeup, revealing a fresh face in a simple blue dress.

Zhuo suddenly recalled a poem: “I see the green mountains so enchanting; surely the mountains see me the same.”

Embarrassed, Zhang Hongqiao asked, “Young master, what are you looking at?”

“You look different now.”

Seeing her frown, he quickly added, “Different in a good way.”

Zhang Hongqiao sprinkled medicinal powder on his hand wound and carefully wrapped it with a handkerchief, wary of hurting him.

She then looked up and scolded, “Do you always use sweet words on women, young master?”

Zhuo pointed to the sky and swore, “You’re the first in my life.”

Her heart melted; cheeks flushed with shyness. “Thank you for your kindness, young master. I shall dress like this from now on.”

---

“May I play another piece for you, young master?”

“No need.”

“Do you dislike my playing?”

Zhuo shook his head and picked up the pipa lying on the recliner.

“I’m afraid you’ll cry again. The buns will get cold and won’t taste good.”

A plaintive, mournful pipa melody began.

From meeting to knowing, then parting, the notes wept and spoke.

After a while, Zhang Hongqiao was already tearful and moved beyond control.

“This piece of ‘Butterfly Lovers’ is for Miss Hongqiao.”

Finishing with eyes closed, Zhuo wondered why he had made her cry. Did ancient people have such strong empathy?

“I understand your feelings, young master. I shall leave now and never trouble you again.”

Resolutely, Zhang Hongqiao rose to leave, but her foot had not crossed the threshold before Zhuo grabbed her sleeve.

His face flushed from finishing a large jug of wine, Zhuo pulled her into a corner.

Like a startled fawn, she looked panicked and weakly raised her hands to resist his chest.

“Young master…”

“Don’t speak.”

Zhang Hongqiao never imagined a man would break into her life so roughly, like suddenly opening a window in a dark room, letting in a ray of light.

...

Zhuo kissed the tears on her cheek.

“Why do you think I am being improper? Though you are of humble status, you are still pure.”

Zhang Hongqiao blushed deeply and, flustered, pushed him away.

“Miss Hongqiao, forgive me. You have some bean paste on your face. I was careless.”

He licked his lips and openly admired her up close.

Look at this slender yet well-toned figure—does it drink much fuel? His fingers brushed over her abdomen—yes, she had abs, powerful.

Her curves were smooth; she could bear sons.

Up close, he finally understood why such a goddess was not the top courtesan of Qinhuai River.

Lowering his gaze, he noticed her delicate features. The minor flaws didn’t matter—after all, he had been a three-time ping-pong champion in his previous life.

Zhang Hongqiao led him to her chamber, a classical and elegant room with a water-ink screen painting and a bed draped with crimson curtains.

Her face flushed with shyness and incomparable beauty, she gently removed her outer garment, revealing a sheer, alluring gown.

She placed a bright red “double happiness” character above the bed.

Taking rouge from a hidden drawer, she lightly brushed her lips red.

Looking at Zhuo with a charming smile, she asked, “Young master, am I beautiful?”

“Beautiful enough to captivate the soul.”

Her fiery red lips made Zhuo swallow hard as he stared blankly.

“Then why don’t you dare to look at me?”

Zhuo closed his eyes as Zhang Hongqiao’s soft hands caressed his face.

Silently, he chanted a spell: I am not a lecher.

“Young master, aren’t you hot wearing so many clothes?”

She whispered near his ear, her breath fragrant.

Her nimble tongue traced his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Was this finally the exciting moment to explore the interior?

Zhuo quickly stripped down to his shorts, resigned, and lay on the bed.

She was so skilled, her experience must surpass his driving years.

Perhaps he should sit in the passenger seat and let her take the wheel.

Zhang Hongqiao shed her sheer skirt, leaving only a strapless undergarment.

Removing her hairpin, her dark hair cascaded like a waterfall.

She drew back the bed curtains and nestled her forehead against his chest, a pearl-like tear tracing her eye.

With a dreamy gaze, she asked, “Young master, is there still bean paste on my face?”

In this moment, Zhuo sighed—she was the truest beauty, like poetry, painting, and song combined.

Ten years of celibacy shattered in an instant.

“There’s a bit on your lips; don’t move, I’ll help you.”

Seeing Miss Hongqiao close her eyes, this was the most delightful moment of Zhuo’s life.