Chapter Fifteen: Talent Scout Yang Lin

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When the bustling life fades away and the building stands empty, inside the Qingyin Pavilion, in the embroidery chamber, Ning’er faces a bronze mirror, holding it as she pities herself and lets out a long sigh.

At fourteen, an age when a young girl should be filled with tender dreams and fantasies about men, she knows only fear. Among all the pleasure seekers in the courtyard, which one isn’t a rogue or a heartless scoundrel? If one seeks a good man in this world, the brothel is surely not the place to find him.

From a young age, people in the courtyard have said she is breathtakingly beautiful and that the day she serves guests would surely stir up a storm. Today was her first day to show herself, and indeed a small commotion arose.

To her, it was merely a wealthy young master’s petty jealousy, which only made her feel like a commodity, hardly worth any happiness.

The beaded curtain was lifted, and Li Yun-niang entered without knocking, smiling as she said, “Daughter, someone is here to see you.”

“It’s already nightfall. Mother, please turn them away for me. I’m not feeling well today and don’t want to receive any more guests,” Ning’er frowned.

“My foolish daughter, don’t you want to ask who’s here?”

“Just another pleasure seeker…”

Li Yun-niang twirled her delicate finger and lightly tapped her head, chiding her lack of ambition: “This is Yang Lin, the top scholar of Yangzhou and son of wealthy merchant Yang Tong—the very young master you saw earlier today. His father is famously known in Yangzhou as ‘The Wealthy and Arrogant.’ Dear daughter, we are in business; how could we ever turn away the god of wealth? Dress up a little and entertain him. If you capture his heart, we will have struck gold. And if he truly takes a liking to you and buys your freedom to make you his concubine, that would be a way out of this misery.”

Ning’er’s eyes brightened briefly, then dimmed again as she spoke softly, “Your daughter understands.”

Inside the elegant chamber, Yang Lin stood with his hands behind his back, admiring the paintings and calligraphy on the wall. They say half the talent of a gifted woman lies in the brothel; even that might be an understatement here. The room’s taste was extraordinary—two desks, a pot of orchids, a bookshelf against the wall filled with books, the air rich with literary fragrance, refined and tasteful.

The poetry and paintings by these women bore a certain charm, far from ordinary or vulgar.

Hearing the faint jingling of jade pendants behind him, Yang Lin turned around to see Ning’er, lightly made up, lowering her collar and greeting him politely, “Greetings, Young Master Yang.”

Yang Lin, lacking the refined tastes of his peers, acted as though he were a lord in his own right, refusing to bow in return and taking the lead instead: “Miss Ning’er, please have a seat.”

Ning’er was displeased by his arrogance but, out of professional courtesy, smiled faintly and asked, “We just met earlier today, Young Master YangI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.