Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Influence of Public Opinion

Three days later.

The murder at the Bai family gambling house had already been turned into a tale.

Young Master Zhu was among the first to take a look. He was moved by the story, especially by the plight of the ill-fated woman within, and felt a deep sense of despair.

“If a troupe were to perform this, wouldn’t it stir up a tremendous reaction?”

But Han Qing shook his head. He had written this story down not for the theatre troupe to perform. Since the protagonist was a dancing girl caught in tragic circumstances, why not have the girls from the Flower Pavilion perform instead?

“Are you thinking of choosing a few girls from the Cuihua Pavilion? But they don’t know how to sing opera,” Young Master Zhu interrupted him immediately, as if considering this a completely unworkable idea.

“Zhu, this isn’t a script for traditional opera. Nor would those troupes be the ones to perform it,” Han Qing replied.

What did he mean by that? For a moment, no one could fathom his intentions, and confusion was written across their faces.

“Then what is it? Are you planning to have storytellers narrate it?”

Han Qing shook his head again. “Once it is revealed, you’ll understand.”

It seemed he intended to keep it under wraps for now. There was no urgency; better to wait and see how it would turn out.

“You two have arrived—these are the most beautiful girls in the pavilion. If you’re not satisfied, you may choose others,” Zhi Lan said calmly. The arrangements had been made long before, as previously promised.

“Brother Han, you mustn’t do anything to betray your wife or I’ll have to tell on you!” Young Master Zhu teased, earning a glare from Han Qing.

“What goes on in your head all day?” Han Qing retorted. He glanced over the girls; their beauty was indeed remarkable, but none fit the roles he had written.

“Are the rest in the main hall? Would you like to take a look?” Zhi Lan offered.

Han Qing quickly surveyed the rest—still, no one was suitable.

“Why are you unwilling?” he asked Zhi Lan directly. The script had been tailored for her, and she was also a witness to the entire incident, having seen everything firsthand. Only she might be able to evoke the depth of tragic pain required.

“I still have to manage the entire Drunken Flower Pavilion. I simply don’t have the time,” Zhi Lan replied, shaking her head.

Yet this was not the real reason. What truly held her back was a sense of unwillingness, a refusal to resign herself to this fate.

“I’ve already told you: if you wish to seek revenge, we can help you. But you must follow the arrangements seriously,” Han Qing said coldly.

No more kind words.

After pondering for a moment, Zhi Lan finally agreed. She kept the script, intending to read the story carefully. There were a few startling details, but nothing too suspicious.

“She’s that person? The daughter of the Chen family from three years ago!” Young Master Zhu finally realized, thoroughly shocked and barely able to believe that it was her standing before them.

“Yes. One fall from grace, and here I am,” Zhi Lan admitted. What a pity. The first half of her life had been unbearably bitter, and only by becoming the mistress of the Drunken Flower Pavilion had she managed to survive. Otherwise, how could she have gone on?

As the Lantern Festival approached, the Drunken Flower Pavilion launched a special event: the chance to watch a stage play.

The libertine young gentlemen, however, had no idea what a stage play was. All they could imagine was that all the girls inside were playing roles, which piqued their curiosity. Regardless of how interesting it might be, they were determined to take a look.

Young Master Bai had been keeping a low profile for several days, especially after being scolded by the elders of his family. He dared not act out, and was nearly bored sick at home.

But when he heard from a servant that the Flower Pavilion had staged a new show, he found an excuse to go out during the festival.

“Master, aren’t we going to Yipin Hall?” the servant asked, surprised to see Young Master Bai heading straight for the Drunken Flower Pavilion. After all, the young master often declared at home that the Drunken Flower Pavilion was their enemy—what had sparked his interest today?

“I just want to see what methods they’ve used to attract so many customers,” Young Master Bai replied, stubbornly refusing to believe their luck. He had spent so much time and not gained a thing, only suffering greater losses.

“But if we go in with such a large group, they may not let us in,” the servant whispered anxiously, glancing at the seven or eight robust attendants following behind.

“Fine, tell the others to wait outside,” Bai replied impatiently. Why was a simple outing so troublesome?

Upon entering the Drunken Flower Pavilion, he was instantly stunned by the dazzling scene. He had thought the noble sons were exaggerating, but now, seeing for himself, he realized it was true.

It was simply that they hadn’t understood the situation before.

“Is there some event today?” he asked, noticing the lively atmosphere, even from the private room—he could feel the excitement of the main hall.

The waiter quickly explained, “Today there’s a stage play, unique to our establishment.”

How flashy! Bai seethed inwardly, but curiosity got the better of him—he wanted to see what the fuss was about.

His presence at the Flower Pavilion was immediately reported to Han Qing.

“Look, he’s come right to our door,” drawled Young Master Zhu.

“Unlike you, the Bai family used to send you gifts every day,” Han Qing replied, a jab but also the truth.

Nearly an hour later, the stage play began in earnest. The curtain lifted on a family joyfully gathered in their courtyard. Suddenly, the scene shifted. A group came to cause trouble for the family.

“This property is requisitioned. You’d better get out!”

“Impossible! This is our house, and the shops outside are ours as well. Who are you people? Is there no law in this land?”

…

In the end, the surviving woman was forced into a brothel, while those who had defrauded them lived freely and unpunished.

It was only such stirring, passionate drama that could truly resonate with people.

After watching, Young Master Bai felt nothing but a faint sense of guilt, rather than being moved. Why did the scenes seem so familiar? For a moment, he couldn’t recall.

“Let’s go. There’s nothing worth seeing,” he said.

This drew the ire of those nearby.

“If you don’t understand, just admit it. Why say the play isn’t good?”

“Exactly. Clearly Young Master Bai has no taste. Why else would every Flower Pavilion he’s opened go under?”

That hit home. Everyone knew many of the Bai family businesses were in decline, but with an official in their family, who dared challenge them?

“What did you say?” Bai exploded in rage, immediately lashing out. The son of Board Member Zhang, who was struck, could not swallow the insult.