In the third month in Jiangnan, the orioles' song trembled on the willow branches like fine threads freshly dipped in spring water — tug them, and a whole city of misty rain would spill.
At the Soft Crimson Pavilion of Gusu, the lanterns were just being lit. A courtesan plucked her strings; the sound was as thin as a cicada's shell. It brushed the eardrum, then slipped away. A wine guest raised his cup, amber light flickering within his pupils.
The gilded signboard of the Soft Crimson Pavilion shimmered in the setting sun, dazzling to the eye. Before the vermilion gates, an actual red-crowned crane was chained with golden links. The shackles had rubbed its slender legs raw, staining them with blood. Its mournful cries tore through the dusk. The madam was feeding it with a jade spoon—within the spoon was silver fungus soup laced with powdered pearls.
"My little ancestor, eat well," the madam patted its feathers. "Lord Wang from the Ministry will be here shortly. We'll be relying on you to dance the Crane Dance for his pleasure!"
Inside the pavilion, on a soft couch by the window, lounged a young man in disheveled attire. He appeared to be twenty-seven or twenty-eight. A cloud-patterned brocade robe hung loosely, exposing the wrinkled white undergarment beneath. His ink-black hair was casually tied with a jade hairpin, several locks spilling over his forehead, lending him an air of unrestrained charm. His face was flushed with drink; his peach-blossom eyes half-lidded. The corners of his lips held a perpetual hint of teasing amusement.
In his arms nestled one of the house's top courtesans. He toyed with a luminous cup between his fingers. The amber wine within rippled, a few drops spilling onto the already stain-soaked front of his robe.
"Young Master Xie, have another drink..." the girl coaxed sweetly, refilling his cup with slender fingers.
Xie Sun burst into hearty laughter, drained the cup in one gulp and recited casually, "Drink today while there is wine; let tomorrow's sorrows come tomorrow. Splendid! Splendid!" With that, he pinched her cheek, making her giggle. He himself nearly slid off the couch from the movement, hastily steadying himself on the table, provoking yet another round of laughter.
"Young Master Xie, look — do I have fine lines at my eyes now?" Liang Zhixian touched the corner of her eye with a jade fingertip, leaning slightly. Her gauze robe slipped halfway down, her twin peaks dangling precariously above his wine cup. "Mama's been pushing me hard these days. Only lets me sleep two hours a night, says I must master the new tune Shattering of the Rainbow Skirt..." Her voice, laced with the soft lilt of the Wu dialect, ended with a trace of weariness.
Xie Sun smiled hazily, twirling a strand of her loose hair. "My fault, my fault. I should've bought your freedom long ago." He tugged a coiled-dragon jade pendant from his waist and slapped it onto the wine-stained table. The pendant glowed with warm green light under the lamp; the speck of cinnabar at the dragon's eye bled like fresh wound.
"Take it to Madam Luo. Tell her I said so..." Before he could finish, Liang Zhi had already lifted the pendant to the light. The lamplight, passing through its crystalline surface, cast a pool of autumn water upon her palm.
"Redeem me?" she laughed softly, pressing the pendant back against his chest. "Does Young Master intend to marry me?"
Xie Sun roared with laughter, his wine-scented breath warm against her neck. "Marriage and concubines — how dull! You and I — confidants of rouge and powder — that is the true delight of this world!"
"Isn't it?" Liang Zhi traced the dragon carving with her fingertip, her voice suddenly faint. "But look outside, Young Master — the girls who get bought out today are sold off again tomorrow. Some end up in mass graves before long. Better to stay in the Soft Crimson Pavilion — at least there's a bowl of steady rice."
Xie Sun's hand froze mid-toast. Gazing into the night, where vague mounds of new graves loomed, he felt a sudden ache in his throat.
"You little minx." He stuffed the jade pendant down her collar. The cold jade slid between her breasts. "Keep it. Play with it."
Liang Zhi did not refuse. She merely leaned forward to pour him another drink. As her cloud-like hair brushed past his jaw, she suddenly whispered, "They say crane's blood is the most nourishing… That red-crowned crane outside—could Young Master fetch me a bowl of its blood? I could use the tonic. My body's worn thin from exhaustion."
Her eyelashes hung low as she spoke, concealing whatever emotion flickered beneath them. Just then, the mournful cry of the crane outside floated in through the window, mingling with the distant wails of starving refugees—thread by thread, it seeped into the warm, fragrant chamber.
"What's so difficult about that!" Xie Sun laughed loudly, staggering to his feet. Without choosing carefully, he reached up and plucked an ornamental ancient bronze sword from the painted wall. Though its scabbard was thick with dust, when he drew the blade it let out a clear, resonant cry like a dragon, startling the lute strings beside Liang Zhi into shivering.
In less than half a stick of incense, a piercing crane's cry erupted outside the pavilion—then was abruptly cut off. Xie Sun returned, dragging the ancient sword now dripping with blood. Crimson specks stained the front of his robe. He tossed the sword to the floor with a clang that silenced the entire hall.
"Bring a gold cup!" he called to a stunned servant, but instead of waiting, he crouched down and seized the still-twitching crane by the neck. As its blood gushed forth, he chuckled, "Dying quickly, aren't you?" His fingertip stroked across its white feathers, and a few tufts drifted down like snow.
Liang Zhi stared at the gold cup gradually filling with crane's blood and murmured softly, "So thin…" The severed neck revealed shriveled flesh, devoid of fat—clearly starved from prolonged hunger. At her words, Xie Sun's wrist trembled; several drops of blood spattered the cloud patterns embroidered on his sleeve.
He stood abruptly, hoisted the crane's carcass and stepped onto the railing. The drinkers downstairs, who had been staring up in shock, suddenly found themselves beneath a shower of white feathers.
"Pick them up! They say crane feathers are worth three pecks of rice!" Xie Sun cried drunkenly, releasing his grip. The crane's body plummeted down. The crowd below erupted into chaos—dozens of hands scrambled wildly for the feathers. An old woman even stuffed a bloodstained tuft into her mouth and swallowed it whole.
Liang Zhi watched the scene below calmly. Expressionless, she poured the entire cup of crane's blood into the warmed wine pot. The blood streamed down the clay walls; she tilted her head back and drank it all. Her throat let out a breath that was half laughter, half sob. Her rouge-red lips were stained with fresh blood, gleaming under the lantern light like something dangerous.
At that moment, another commotion rose from downstairs—rapid footsteps, the clanging of armor. A coarse voice barked, "By order of the magistrate! Everyone stand aside!"
The Soft Crimson Pavilion instantly dissolved into chaos. The courtesans shrieked, the revelers scrambled for cover, cups and plates crashed to the floor. More than a dozen officers stormed upstairs, led by a stern-faced centurion.
The leader's gaze swept the chamber like lightning, then froze upon Xie Sun. He blinked in surprise, then stepped forward and cupped his fists. "So Young Master Xie is here. We are hunting a band of thieves. Pardon us for disturbing your pleasure."
Xie Sun, eyes bleary with drink, barely lifted his lids and waved lazily. "Zhao… Zhao Jin… no need for courtesy. Take whoever you must—just don't delay my drinking with this beauty…" With that, he poured himself another cup. Wine splashed everywhere; he didn't seem to care.
Zhao Jin glanced at the disheveled pair—Xie Sun and Liang Zhi—looking a touch embarrassed but not daring to comment. He turned to his men. "Search carefully. Do not offend Young Master Xie." The officers obediently avoided Xie's side and began combing the room.
Just then, a child no more than three feet tall slipped out from the crowd. He darted left and right, seemingly panicked, yet cleverly avoiding every officer. He sprinted straight toward Xie Sun.
The boy had delicate brows and lively, bright eyes—oddly fearless amidst the chaos. Reaching Xie's couch, he pretended to stumble and fall, slipping something into Xie's half-open robe as he did.
"Where… where did this little cub come from… careful you don't hurt yourself…" Xie Sun said with a drunken chuckle, reaching to help him up. With a sweep of his sleeve, he effortlessly guided the object into his cuff.
The boy regained balance, blinked once at Xie Sun, and vanished back into the crowd like a fish into reeds.
Feigning drunkenness, Xie Sun slumped sideways as if picking up his fallen cup. His fingers slipped into his sleeve, brushing across the object—a gold-foiled envelope, surprisingly heavy. Pinned to it was a black feather, its quill glinting faintly like metal.
Still hunched, sleeves draped low, he flicked the seal open with a fingertip. Inside was a sheet of plain paper, bearing only three powerful characters:
"Ningyuan Mountain."
A sharp gleam flashed within Xie Sun's drunken eyes—piercing as a hawk's. But it vanished as quickly as it came. He held the paper to the candle flame and watched it crumble into ash.
The corners of his lips curled again into that ever-ambiguous smile.
Softly, he murmured, "Suffering's dust, parted with the edge of cold steel—one crane soars through clouds to the ninth heaven."
He raised his cup and drank. This time, not a single drop was spilled.