Still a Man
The stars, like scattered diamonds strewn across a velvet canvas, adorned the dark expanse of the sky. Nestled amidst this celestial display was the crescent moon, its silvery glow casting a soft luminescence upon the world below. Hovering majestically above a lone, billowy cloud, it seemed to preside over the quietude of the night.
Down below, the streets of the district lay deserted, shrouded in a tranquil stillness broken only by the occasional wanderer, their presence fleeting as they meandered through the shadows.
Whether stumbling from the embrace of intoxication or emerging from the clandestine chambers of a brothel, these nocturnal citizens walked the dimly lit avenues with a sense of purpose known only to them.
Amidst this nocturnal serenity strode Han Suyin, her small figure a determined silhouette against the backdrop of the night.
With unwavering resolve, she hastened towards her rendezvous with Qin Fuhua, the weight of anticipation and concern pressing upon her with each hurried step.
Yet, amidst her eagerness to deliver the long-awaited news, a nagging sense of apprehension tugged at the corners of her mind, spurred by the note she had received prior to departing the courtyard of Junli's pavilion.
The urgency with which the Prince had dispatched the letter spoke volumes, hinting at the gravity of its contents.
In the depths of the night, Han Suyin's sole desire was to reach the Prince and unravel the mysteries that enshrouded the rose-shaped key she clutched tightly within her grasp.
Her journey led her to the heart of the district, where the towering plum blossom tree stood sentinel amidst a bustling plaza now hushed in repose.
Once alive with the fervent activity of merchants and vendors, the square now lay deserted, save for the rustling of wind-blown ornaments that adorned the branches of the venerable tree.
Pausing beneath the gnarled branches, Han Suyin cast her gaze around the deserted plaza, seeking any sign of Qin Fuhua's imminent arrival.
Yet, besides the whispering of the wind through the leaves, there was no one to be found. Turning her attention to the plum blossom tree, she beheld a sight that stirred the depths of her soul.
The tree, bedecked in a variety of wooden ornaments, seemed to pulsate with the dreams, desires, and wishes of Liaoping's citizens.
Each ornament, a testament to the hopes and aspirations of those who had placed them there, danced and twirled in the breeze, their rhythmic clatter a melodic hymn to the night.
Amongst this symphony of wishes, Han Suyin's gaze alighted upon her own offering, a solitary ornament bearing the initials "QSY" adorned with a vibrant orange flower.
Though the characters etched upon the wood were barely discernible in the dim light, she knew without a doubt the significance they held.
"Qin Suyin,"
they spelled a fervent plea to the heavens, borrowing Qin Fuhua's first name to grant the Prince's and Suyin's heartfelt wish: the restoration of the sick Princess to health and vigor.
"Why are you wearing that?"
A familiar voice sliced through the night, shattering the silence like a stone skipping across a tranquil pond. Startled, Han Suyin's heart leaped within her chest, a momentary jolt of fear coursing through her veins before she recognized the source.
"T-Tienzheng!" she stammered, her voice a breathless whisper as she pivoted to face the figure emerging from the shadows.
"Qin Fuhua!," she repeated internally, her mind exhaling a sigh of relief.
Yet, as her eyes met his, a flicker of concern danced within their depths, mirrored by the subtle furrow of her brow.
Qin Fuhua's gait seemed unsteady, his movements betraying a semblance of intoxication.
Frozen in place, Han Suyin watched in silent alarm as he closed the distance between them, his hands reaching out to grasp her shoulders with a familiarity that contradicted his apparent disorientation.
With a deft motion, he tugged at the tie securing her hair, unraveling the carefully arranged bun to reveal her hair falling down.
At that moment, Han Suyin's guise as a humble medicine practitioner stood exposed as a woman, her attire a simple robe worn by those of modest means who traversed the streets in service to their craft.
Qin Fuhua's touch lingered upon her shoulders, his voice a hushed murmur as he issued his cryptic directive.
"Follow what I do," he instructed his words a whisper carried upon the night breeze.
Bewildered yet resolute, Han Suyin nodded in silent acquiescence, her trust in him transcending the bounds of uncertainty.
Taking her wrist in a firm grasp, Qin Fuhua propelled her forward, his steps swift and purposeful as they darted into the alleys of the district.
The glow of nearby brothels cast lurid shadows upon their path, their flickering light illuminating the urgency of their mission.
Meanwhile, a sense of unease gripped the followers of Jianhong, their brows furrowed in frustration as they scanned the dimly lit streets in search of their target.
"Where did he go?" one whispered urgently to the other, their voices tinged with mounting panic.
Assured by the earlier facade of drunkness that had cloaked Qin Fuhua's movements, they had not anticipated his sudden disappearance, their complacency shattered by the realization of his escape.
"There!" the other exclaimed, his finger thrusting out to point at the distant figures now fading into the night, their silhouettes a fleeting echo of their fleeting presence.
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[Qin Fuhua, Zhaoyun, and Weizhe]
As Qin Fuhua stumbled upon the weathered figure at the vendor's stall, little did he know that the seemingly ordinary old man was, in fact, one of his own trusted soldiers, Zhaoyun, covertly keeping a vigilant watch over his Prince.
Through the disguise of age and anonymity, Zhaoyun had stood faithfully by Qin Fuhua's side through the trials of countless battles, his unwavering loyalty a testament to the bond forged in the crucible of warfare.
When there was a tense exchange between Qin Fuhua and Jianhong while they were drinking, two familiar figures stood in the next room, silently waiting.
Zhaoyun, with the weathered countenance of a seasoned warrior, and Weizhe, cloaked in the shadows of his attire, listened intently as the muffled voices reverberated through the walls, each word a whispered echo of intrigue and subterfuge.
With silent precision, Weizhe, clad in the cloak of darkness, unleashed an arrow into the night to give Suyin the letter Qin Fuhua wrote to her.
Directed by the Prince's unerring guidance, Weizhe had little difficulty discerning Han Suyin's whereabouts, her sanctuary within the former general's home.
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"They came in here," the soldier declared, his voice a sharp command as he delivered a resounding kick to the brothel door.
The sudden intrusion sent ripples of panic through the establishment, eliciting startled screams from the girls within.
Some recoiled in shock, their hands flying to cover their mouths in a reflexive gasp, while others gazed wide-eyed at the unexpected interruption, their expressions a tapestry of astonishment and apprehension.
As the soldiers swept their gaze across the room in search of their quarry, a voice pierced the tense silence, cutting through the air with a mixture of indignation and authority.
"Who dares to come in and barge into my home?" The words, laden with an unmistakable edge, resonated from the depths of the brothel, drawing the soldiers' attention toward the source.
Exchanging a wary glance, the soldiers turned to behold the figure of a delicate yet formidable older lady descending the stairs, her presence commanding attention even amidst the chaos.
"I apologize for the rash action," one soldier began, his tone deferential as he addressed the lady. "But did a man and a woman come in here?" he inquired, his voice tinged with urgency.
A sardonic smirk played upon the lady's lips as she arched an eyebrow in amusement at the soldiers' inquiry.
"You think that a brothel like this would invite a man AND a woman to this place? What do you think this is?" Her interrogation was laced with a hint of mockery, challenging the soldiers' assumptions with a subtle yet pointed rebuke.
"I swear I saw them come in here," the other soldier murmured to his companion, his voice laden with a sense of urgency. "Please, may I insist on finding them? They're uh... wanted people by Feng Jianhong," he pleaded, bowing his head respectfully before the lady.
At the mention of Feng Jianhong's name, a flicker of recognition danced across the lady's features, her expression momentarily contemplative as she weighed their request.
"Feng Jianhong? Hm..." she mused, her gaze drifting into the distance as she considered their appeal. "If you insist," she relented with a wry smile, her eyes alight with amusement.
"There's nothing to hide here," she declared, a subtle hint of mischief in her demeanor as she acquiesced to their request with a bemused shrug.
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As the soldiers methodically combed through the corridors of the brothel, their quest to locate Tienzheng and Han Suyin led them through occupied and empty chambers.
In the occupied rooms, their sudden intrusion sparked pandemonium, with startled cries piercing the air as older men found themselves confronted by the unexpected arrival of armed soldiers amidst their clandestine liaisons.
Undeterred by the chaos they left in their wake, the soldiers pressed on, their determination unyielding until they reached the final door at the far end of the hallway. With a resolute shove, they burst into the chamber, their eyes falling upon a scene that froze them in their tracks.
Before them lay a man reclined upon a bed, his form entwined with that of a woman beneath him, their intimate embrace illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight.
"Stop what you are doing!" the soldiers commanded, their hands instinctively moving to the hilts of their swords in readiness for action.
In response, the man atop the bed turned towards them, his countenance adorned with a smirk of brazen confidence.
Qin Fuhua, the Prince himself, met their gaze with an air of arrogant defiance, his torso bared save for the dark, crimson silk robe draped loosely around his frame. With broad shoulders obscuring the face of the woman beneath him, he exuded an aura of commanding presence, his very stance a testament to his regal bearing.
"Do you dare interrupt me in the midst of my pleasure with my lady?" Qin Fuhua's voice dripped with disdain, his gaze unwavering as he confronted the soldiers with a mixture of defiance and amusement.
As he rose from the bed, his muscular chest glistened in the candlelight, a testament to the physical prowess that belied his royal station.
Caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events, the soldiers cast a fleeting glance at Qin Fuhua, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and uncertainty as they grappled with the gravity of their intrusion.
As the soldiers recoiled from the unexpected confrontation, a palpable sense of embarrassment washed over them, their faces flushing with annoyance as they realized their mistake.
"We apologize," they stammered, their voices tinged with humility as they hastily beat a retreat from the chamber, their footsteps echoing down the corridor in a hasty retreat.
Left alone once more, Han Suyin emerged from the shadow of Qin Fuhua's towering presence, her cheeks aflame with a rosy hue that betrayed her embarrassment.
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[A couple of minutes before]
After dashing away with a determination bordering on recklessness, Qin Fuhua stormed into the brothel alongside Suyin, extending an unabashed invitation.
"Can I borrow one of your lady's outfits?" Qin Fuhua requested.
The madam's countenance lit up with palpable delight as she graciously obliged his request to borrow attire from the "pleasure" women.
As Suyin emerged, garbed in borrowed garments, Qin Fuhua burst in, shedding his layers of crimson silk with a casual disregard.
Each fold of fabric cascaded to the floor until he stood before Suyin, his chest bare, the disguise of his magical mask discarded.
Suyin was no stranger to the human body, having tended to patients of all kinds.
The intricacies of anatomy were familiar to her, both male and female, rendering the sight of bare skin an everyday occurrence.
Yet, as her eyes fell upon Qin Fuhua's exposed torso, an inexplicable flutter stirred within her. His physique was no different from countless others she had encountered, and yet, a perplexing unease settled upon her, in its explanation.
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[Current]
"Have they departed?" Suyin inquired, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her gaze evading his.
"The coast is clear," Qin Fuhua confirmed, deftly donning his attire once more, returning to the robe he had worn prior.
As he dressed, his gaze lingered on Suyin, detecting her reluctance to meet his eyes.
Their recent charade, entwined in the atmosphere of the brothel, seemed to cast an awkward veil between them.
Clad in the delicate attire of a courtesan, Suyin exuded an air of vulnerability, the layers of thin fabric doing little to shield her from revealing her body shape. Qin Fuhua was unable to take his eyes off of her and her body, but he resisted, turning away from his internal desires.
Qin Fuhua was a man, after all.
He found himself captivated by the delicate beauty of Suyin before him, her cheeks suffused with a blush reminiscent of blooming plum blossoms.
Yet, their moment of silent appreciation was abruptly interrupted by three sharp knocks on the door, jolting them back to the present.
Quickly regaining his composure, Qin Fuhua retrieved Suyin's discarded garments, laying them out on the bed with a purposeful gesture.
"Change back into these clothes," he instructed his tone firm yet tinged with an underlying urgency. "Meet me outside with the old lady and Zhaoyun." Qin Fuhua placed back his mask, ensuring that he was Tienzheng again before he left.
With those words hanging in the air, Qin Fuhua departed the room, leaving Suyin to her task.