Chapter Seventy-Seven: Experience

The two girls still appeared to be sixteen or seventeen, yet they were forced to sell their bodies and talents, even driven to tears as they uttered such words. Qi Jun knew it was but one thorn among countless others that pierced his heart, while so many more remained embedded in unseen places throughout this world. In the mass grave, as well as in the halls of pleasure.

“No, it’s not because of that,” Qi Jun walked to the window and opened it. A fierce night wind swept in, nearly extinguishing the flickering candlelight. He gazed at the city’s dazzling splendor outside, torn by a thousand thoughts. He recalled that if it weren’t for the fortune he amassed through suppressing bandits, he would still be agonizing over how to fill his belly.

His purpose in coming to the county capital was to find County Officer Feng at the County Prefecture, to report all the recent events in Anqiang County, so that Feng could swiftly return and preside over the major case involving Chief He and Meng Wanhe’s collusion with bandits. From entering the city until now, it had barely been any time, and he had almost been sucked into the intoxicating mire of luxury and indulgence here. Realizing this, Qi Jun was alarmed.

At this hour, Sun Jiu and others were likely keeping vigil at every exit of the Meng residence. If Chief He discovered the plot had failed, he would never sit idle—how should Qi Jun deal with such a cunning fox then?

There were many bandits detained at Dongling Village, but few county guards watching over their loot. Any mistake or oversight between these two could overturn this hard-won situation in a single night.

Qi Jun dared not dwell further. Achieving so much in such a short time filled him with satisfaction, but the risks lurking beneath were not to be underestimated.

With these thoughts, his mind cleared. He wished he could find Feng Qinian right now and bring him back to Anqiang, to swiftly and thoroughly settle this complex, shifting game.

“Sir, though it is midsummer, the night wind is chill.”

A young girl walked over and closed the window. At the same time, another girl draped a blanket over Qi Jun’s shoulders from behind. He felt warmth spread across his shoulders and back, where the night wind had left him cold.

“Sir, are you truly…” The girl who had closed the window turned around, looking at Qi Jun with surprise and disbelief, her eyes reflecting his refusal.

Qi Jun turned. The girl behind him wore the same expression.

He drew up a stool and sat, looking at the two young women. “Some things should happen only between those who truly love each other. When born of affection, it is love; when driven by desire, it is lust.”

The two girls were stunned by his words, lowering their heads in bewilderment, pondering what he had said. It was the first time they had met someone like Qi Jun, and the first time they had heard such words.

“Sir, you are a good man—and a true gentleman.” The girl who had played music nodded thoughtfully, then bowed to Qi Jun with sincere gratitude.

“I don’t fully understand what you said, but I think you are right,” the other girl agreed, bowing as well.

“But… the madam in charge said we can’t leave the guest room until dawn…” One girl sighed, troubled by the rules of Drunken Spring Pavilion, and furrowed her brows.

“That’s hardly a problem. You sisters can sleep on the big bed, I’ll sleep on the floor. This wooden floor looks quite fine—seems comfortable enough.” Qi Jun stood and walked to the bed, reaching for the bedding.

“Sir! That won’t do, you are a guest and should have the bed. Besides, making the bed is our duty…” The older girl rushed over, grabbing the bedding to stop him.

“If you two sleep on the floor, you might catch cold. No more arguing—I’m used to sleeping rough. Both of you should rest on the bed!” Qi Jun pulled the bedding away and laid it on the floor, then lay down himself.

“Sir, you are dressed like a scholar, but has your family faced misfortune? Otherwise, how would you be used to sleeping outdoors?” The girl sat at the edge of the bed, chin propped in curiosity, as Qi Jun’s words stirred her interest.

Her sister squeezed next to her, looking expectantly at Qi Jun.

“Do young ladies all love stories?” Qi Jun smiled, feeling his drowsiness fade. He sat up and, in the manner of a storyteller, recounted his past to the two sisters.

As Qi Jun spoke of his parents’ murder, the loss of his family fortune, and his struggle to survive with his younger brother, the sisters were moved to tears, raising their hands to wipe their eyes in sympathy.

When he described helping villagers to suppress bandits and save lives, their eyes shone with admiration and respect.

“Who would have thought you suffered so much,” one girl sighed, wiping her tears.

“He’s a real hero who fights bandits!” the younger girl exclaimed in awe.

“The night is long and difficult to bear. Why not tell me your stories? You don’t seem like ordinary girls—how did you end up here?” Qi Jun picked up the plate of pastries from the bedside and offered it to them.

The older girl shook her head at the pastries, but her sister hesitated, then picked up a date cake and took a bite, kicking her feet in delight at the taste.

Qi Jun found it endearing, and his curiosity about their past grew.

“To be honest, sir, we are both daughters of an official family in the county capital. I am Chen Xia’er, this is my sister Chen Dong’er. Our father was Chen Yiming, registrar of Ding’an County. He offended the son of the Earl of Ding’an in the official arena, was falsely accused, and died tragically in prison. All the men of our family were sent to the frontier, and the women were sold by the authorities…”

Chen Xia’er broke down in tears as she spoke, unable to restrain her sorrow. Her sister, Chen Dong’er, gently stroked her back, her own eyes glistening with tears.

Qi Jun was stunned, sighing deeply at their fate.

“Sir, you are so capable—could you avenge our father…” Chen Xia’er suddenly flung herself onto Qi Jun’s arm, sobbing and pleading.

Chen Dong’er followed her sister, kneeling before Qi Jun and bowing her head in tears.

“This…” Qi Jun hesitated, troubled. If their father had been killed by bandits, he could have used his skills to avenge them. But the entanglement behind their father’s death was far too complex. The politics of Great Liang were tangled in intrigue, and he could not even touch the Earl of Ding’an—a noble of national rank, for whom crushing a registrar was as easy as squashing an ant. Qi Jun, a mere county soldier with a monthly wage of three taels, had nothing with which to avenge them.

Chen Xia’er looked up, reading the helplessness and powerlessness on Qi Jun’s face. She gradually calmed her tears and stood, pulling her sister up as well.

“Forgive me, sir, it was presumptuous of me. Family grievances should not burden you. Thank you for listening to our suffering—I was momentarily distraught, please forgive me. Dong’er, let’s not disturb his rest any further…” Chen Xia’er bowed to Qi Jun, then took her sister’s hand and headed for the door.

Chen Dong’er, her face streaked with tears, glanced back at Qi Jun with a trace of reluctance and endless regret.

In that moment, the sisters seemed to accept their fate, dragging weary steps toward an inescapable abyss.

“Wait, you two!” Just as Chen Xia’er’s hand touched the door, Qi Jun’s voice rang out behind them.

The sisters turned, bewildered, to look at him.

“Though I can’t avenge you, aren’t you willing to leave this place?” Qi Jun scratched his head, gazing at the sisters standing by the door.