Chapter 36: I Am Your Father

Visiting a brothel in ancient times was a first for Ma Jun, and he couldn't help feeling a little excited. Amid Little Blossom's indignant sarcasm, he followed the young woman who had been waiting for him for quite some time, heading into the Spring Beauty Courtyard.

Inside, tables were laden with delicacies; at the front stood a stage where several young women were performing songs. Around the tables sat burly men, each accompanied by a charming lady, their laughter ringing out.

Ma Jun was led to a table by the young woman. He pulled out a piece of silver, handed it over with a hearty laugh, brazenly took some liberties, and called out, “Go, bring me the prettiest girl you have!”

“Oh my, sir, don't you like me?” The young woman, seeing Ma Jun's generosity, was clearly moved, her tone coquettish.

“Enough nonsense. You have neither the figure nor the looks. If you sit beside me, I’ll lose my appetite!” Ma Jun snapped, scowling, fully playing the part of a domineering guest.

The young woman dared not protest further and hurried off to fetch another girl as Ma Jun had ordered.

Settling into his chair, Ma Jun listened to the music on stage, bantering with the girl beside him, his expression lecherous—the very image of a typical patron.

Little Blossom, knowing everything, fumed and shouted at Ma Jun, “You shameless scoundrel! We came to steal the show, and you go straight to a brothel! Hopeless!”

Ma Jun, busy drinking the wine poured by the girl, ignored her completely.

After a while, shouts erupted simultaneously from five or six men in the north and south wings of the Spring Beauty Courtyard: “Friends from all the establishments, ladies, and patrons, listen well! We’re looking for someone, and it’s no business of anyone else’s—nobody move or make a sound. Disobey, and don’t blame us for what happens!”

“What’s going on?”

“Who is it?”

“Are the authorities here for an inspection?”

The courtyard buzzed with speculation. Ma Jun, visibly excited, downed a cup of wine, thinking to himself, Finally, these fellows have arrived.

A heavy knocking sounded at the main door. The slave attendants exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether to open it. In the next instant, the door was forced open and seventeen or eighteen burly men surged inside.

These men wore short jackets, white cloths wrapped about their heads, blue sashes around their waists, and brandished gleaming steel blades, iron rulers, or clubs. They were salt smugglers. The Yangzhou region served as a distribution center for northern Huai salt, and such outlaws, banding together, evaded taxes and reaped enormous profits from illicit salt.

Salt smugglers were notoriously fierce—scattering before large groups of soldiers, but quick to draw weapons against smaller patrols. Suppressing salt smuggling was easier said than done; the authorities often turned a blind eye, tacitly allowing it. Whether officials and smugglers colluded was a matter for insiders alone.

In their own way, these smugglers earned their keep, selling salt fairly without causing undue trouble. Still, their sudden intrusion left the Spring Beauty Courtyard’s patrons in shock.

An elder among them, over fifty, stepped forward. “Friends, forgive the disturbance. I apologize.” He clasped his hands in salute from left to right and back again, then announced loudly, “We’re looking for a friend from the Society of Heaven and Earth—Brother Jia the Sixth. Is Jia the Sixth here?”

After a lengthy explanation, the gist was clear: Jia the Sixth from the Society of Heaven and Earth had insulted them. If they didn’t settle the matter, their reputation would suffer among their peers.

Jia the Sixth was nowhere to be found, but instead, the rather dim-witted Mao Eighteenth appeared! This brawny fellow, an ardent admirer of the Society of Heaven and Earth, upon hearing that someone was looking for his idol, immediately took to a room upstairs and unleashed a torrent of curses.

To be fair, Mao Eighteenth was quite skilled at hurling insults, infuriating the smugglers so much they charged upstairs. After a brief scuffle, they were beaten back down.

The smugglers’ leader realized they were outmatched and quickly declared their gang’s allegiance, hoping to negotiate with Mao Eighteenth.

Ordinary folk would avoid clashing with a major society, accepting peace at once. But Mao Eighteenth was no ordinary man. When asked his name, he cursed loudly, “You little brats! If you don’t even remember your own grandfather’s name, what good are you?”

Before the smugglers could respond, a woman in her thirties suddenly burst out laughing.

“Well, we can’t best that fierce fellow, but now this brazen woman’s mocking us—at least we’ve found someone to vent on!” one smuggler sneered, stepping forward and delivering two sharp slaps to the courtesan’s face, leaving her in tears. “Filthy wench, what’s so funny?”

Ma Jun, his arm draped over the shoulder of the girl beside him, watched the spectacle with great interest. The moment he saw this, his spirits soared.

Suddenly, from the side of the hall, a boy of twelve or thirteen rushed out, shouting, “How dare you hit my mother! You damned turtle, rotten bastard, may thunder strike you dead the moment you step outside! May your hands fester and rot through, your tongue decay, may your guts rot and break apart from the pus you swallow!”

The smugglers were about to punish the boy when Ma Jun slammed the table, shot to his feet, and bellowed, “Who dares touch my son!”

All eyes turned at once.

The smugglers, realizing things had gotten out of hand, hesitated. Ma Jun, tall and powerfully built despite his scholar’s garb, looked formidable. The leader quickly inquired, “Sir, may we know your illustrious name?”

Ma Jun ignored him, strode over to the battered woman, placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder, and exclaimed with emotion, “Are you Chunhua? You’ve suffered so much all these years!”

Wei Chunhua was completely bewildered. She didn’t remember such a striking young man among her clients, and the boy, Xiaobao, didn’t resemble him at all. Hesitantly, she asked, “Sir, were you once a patron of mine?”

“Chunhua, have you forgotten me?” Ma Jun declared passionately. “I remember twelve years ago, when I was just twelve, newly apprenticed and wandering the world. I came to the Spring Beauty Courtyard in Yangzhou and was captivated by your beauty. After a single night together, I had to leave to mourn my late master. Imagine my surprise, after all these years, to find you bore me a son! I hurried here upon hearing the news from a friend, but I never thought you wouldn’t recognize me!”

“You’re saying you’re my father?” the clever Wei Xiaobao piped up, circling Ma Jun and shaking his head. “But you don’t look a bit like me. My mother said my deadbeat father might have been a Hui.”

“Cheeky little rascal, how dare you talk about your father that way!” Ma Jun scolded with a laugh, giving Wei Xiaobao a playful smack on the backside, then turned to Chunhua, “We’ll discuss this later. Someone just struck you—now that I see it, I can’t let them off so easily!”

Ma Jun spun around, strode over to the salt smuggler who’d done the deed, grabbed him by the collar, hauled him up, and roared, “How dare you strike the mother of my son! For the sake of the Green Gang, I’ll let you off lightly—today, I’ll just break one of your hands!”