Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen: The Earl of Huaiyang

In the eastern part of Wucheng, not far from the Liu residence, stood a mansion. Judging merely by its lofty gate tower, its massive black tung-oil-coated doors, the endless walls stretching from either side of the gatehouse, and the four gleaming golden characters above the entrance proclaiming “Mansion of the Marquis of Huaiyang,” one could tell at a glance how imposing it was.

Indeed, it appeared even more formidable and imposing than the residence of Lord Liu, the magistrate of Wucheng.

Four servants stood in pairs on either side of the entrance. All were dressed in black, tall, broad-shouldered, and ruggedly built. Whenever an unrelated passerby approached, they needed only to straighten their faces, and the unfortunate soul would retreat in fright.

It was just past noon, and few people were coming and going. The four servants had nothing to do but yawn and chat about the previous night’s gambling, which had finally given them something to be interested in.

They had just reached the most exciting part of the conversation when the sound of hoofbeats approached. Before long, two riders arrived. Had Liu Cheng been there, he would have recognized them at once as his two good friends: Ning Zhiyuan, the eldest young master of the Ning family, and Zhao Cong, the second young master of the Zhao family.

The Ning and Zhao families were both famous wealthy merchants of Wucheng and had always been on good terms. Ning Zhiyuan and Zhao Cong were birds of a feather, making their friendship even closer. They often went together to visit brothels, watch cockfights and dogfights, and engage in all manner of debauchery. They were, without question, Wucheng’s two most notorious young wastrels.

“Young Master Ning, Young Master Zhao, welcome,” the servants at the gate said ingratiatingly as they hurried over.

The two young men were honored guests of the marquis, and naturally the servants would never dare offend them.

“Where is the marquis?” Ning Zhiyuan asked.

One of the servants replied respectfully, “The marquis is still inside. Why don’t you gentlemen enter and wait? I’ll go inform him.”

Before Ning Zhiyuan could answer, a hearty male laugh rang out.

“Young Ning, Young Zhao, you’ve come early.”

“The marquis summoned us. How could we not arrive early and wait for you?”

“Hahaha! Young Zhao, you certainly have a sweet tongue—much sweeter than Young Ning’s.”

“Hehe, thank you for the compliment, my lord.”

The other man was dissatisfied. “How am I inferior to him? My lord, you’re showing favoritism.”

“Hahaha…”

The man who emerged from the gate amid loud laughter was of average height, with a round, heavyset body that made him look somewhat short and plump. He was in his early forties, with a kindly face. Yet his cheeks were so fleshy that when he laughed, his eyes vanished completely, making him look like Maitreya Buddha reborn.

This was Cao Shen, the Marquis of Huaiyang.

Cao Shen was a true imperial relative. Two years earlier, he had sent his legitimate eldest daughter to the palace to take part in the imperial selection. Unexpectedly, the emperor took a liking to her and kept her in the palace. After winning the emperor’s favor, she was made a Noblewoman.

As the father of a noblewoman, Cao Shen had been granted this title by the emperor. However, he enjoyed the honor of the title without possessing an actual hereditary fief; his descendants would not be permitted to inherit it either. In effect, it was a title in name only.

Even so, no one dared look down on him.

Besides, the Cao family of Wucheng was distantly related to Imperial Noble Consort Cao, who held power in the palace. Cao Shen was considered a distant maternal cousin of the consort.

With such powerful backing, the Marquis of Huaiyang occupied a unique position in Wucheng. He held no official post and was not bound by the restrictions of officialdom, yet no official dared provoke him.

The various martial factions and underworld forces also went out of their way to avoid him. No one wished to offend, without reason, a man whose every stamp could make the ground of Wucheng tremble three times.

If Ning Zhiyuan and Zhao Cong were young wastrels, then the Marquis of Huaiyang was an old wastrel.

The marquis had two great passions in life. The first was visiting brothels, and the second was gambling. His preferred forms of gambling were not games such as shaking dice in a casino, but diversions popular among the nobility, such as dogfighting and cockfighting. Dogfighting had once been in fashion. Recently, however, a new amusement had arrived from the imperial capital: cockfighting.

Thus, just after lunch, the Marquis of Huaiyang had invited his two good-for-nothing friends, Ning and Zhao, to the Cao family’s country estate to preside together over the cockfighting tournament being held that day.

As the representative of Wucheng’s wastrels, the Marquis of Huaiyang had always served as the instigator and organizer of every sort of activity, fully demonstrating the exemplary role expected of a leader.

To better organize these events, he had even purchased a property to serve as their headquarters. This property was the Cao family’s country estate.

The estate stood in the southwestern part of the northern city, not far from the pleasure quarter by Misty Rain Lake. He had originally bought the place for the sake of conveniently visiting the brothels.

The three men traveled by horse and carriage. Before long, they arrived at the estate.

At the main gate, the steward had already brought the servants out to wait for them and ushered the three men inside with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Have the guests arrived?” the marquis asked as they walked.

The steward replied respectfully, “Young Master Chen, Master Wu, Young Master Zhang… They have all arrived and are waiting in the front hall.”

The steward recited a long list of names, all men who frequently visited the Cao estate and enjoyed close relations with the marquis.

“Hmm. It seems only the three of us were missing.” The Marquis of Huaiyang turned and grinned at Ning Zhiyuan and Zhao Cong. “Young Ning, Young Zhao, neither of you may compete with me today for the title of Cock King.”

Ning Zhiyuan pulled a long face. “My lord, doesn’t that mean you simply won’t let either of us compete?”

“Hahaha! Young Ning, are you really that confident? Very well. Today I shall see whether your Big Yellow is more formidable, or my Black Hero is superior.”

“My lord, Big Yellow is my dog.”

“Er… Then what is your chicken called?”

“Second Yellow.”

“Sigh, Young Ning, it’s not that I want to criticize you, but you did study for several years. How can you have not a drop of ink in your belly? Look at the name you chose. Now look at mine: Black Tiger, Black Hero. How grand! How imposing!”

The Marquis of Huaiyang was unbearably pleased with himself, while Zhao Cong burst out laughing.

Ning Zhiyuan silently rolled his eyes. He says I have no learning, yet he is not much better. We should not laugh at each other; we are both in the same boat.

From far away, the people in the front hall could already hear the marquis’s ringing laughter.

They hurried outside to pay their respects.

Regardless of age or status, the Marquis of Huaiyang was the leader among them, so he accepted their bows with perfect composure. Only then did he lead the entire group toward the cockfighting arena in grand procession.

The arena had been set up in an open space within the garden and enclosed by wooden railings. A circle of high tables and chairs had been arranged around it. Tea, fruit, and pastries sat on every table, while numerous beautiful maids stood nearby to serve the guests, pouring tea and wine.

Anyone visiting for the first time would certainly marvel at how well the Marquis of Huaiyang knew how to enjoy himself. But this group came often and had long since grown accustomed to it. Each person found a seat and settled down, waiting for the lots to be drawn to determine the order of the fights.

The marquis’s Black Hero truly lived up to its name. It defeated one opponent after another, leaving the other roosters utterly unable to fight back.

The Marquis of Huaiyang was so delighted that he laughed without pause, the flesh on his body trembling with every burst of mirth. Even the maids serving behind him benefited from his joy, for he casually rewarded each of them with a silver ingot.

“Thank you, my lord,” the maids said sweetly, their soft voices making the marquis even more pleased.

“Young Ning, wait for me. Don’t run away before the fighting even begins.”

Still brimming with triumph, the marquis rose to change clothes, not forgetting to tease Ning Zhiyuan a few times.

Supported by two beautiful maids, he headed toward the western courtyard. The servants who had accompanied their respective masters had scattered around the perimeter, chatting in small groups. Whenever they saw the marquis, they hurriedly bowed.

“Have you heard? Winter Snow, the courtesan from the Drunken Spring Pavilion, is going to buy her freedom.”

“Really? Who told you that?”

“Do you really need to ask? When I accompanied my young master there, I heard that gentleman tell Madam Xie himself. Winter Snow is truly fortunate. That gentleman is handsome and charming, and he isn’t very old either. If she keeps him happy, she’ll have nothing but good days ahead.”

The two servants, standing with their backs turned, had no idea that the Marquis of Huaiyang had heard every word behind them.

And the more he heard, the darker his expression became, until anger surged into his heart.