Chapter 4

Chapter 4 A Startling Dream in the Pear Garden (3): Song Qing still looked just as... Song Qing still wore that mild and amiable expression on the surface. He knew these people’s backgrounds better than anyone. They were nothing more than bullies who judged people by their status, fawned on the powerful, trampled the weak, and always picked on the softest target. “Director Wang of the police bureau used to be a regular guest here as well.” Song Qing’s voice was neither loud nor soft, just enough for everyone present to hear. His tone was even, yet every word carried weight. “If you are all willing to do me, Song, the favor of sitting down and having some tea, there is already some fine Longjing prepared next door. But if you insist on shouting about killing and fighting here—” He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over the gangsters. “Then perhaps I should send someone straight to the police station and invite them over to uphold justice.” With that, he turned his head and quietly gave an order to the personal attendant beside him. The attendant immediately understood and turned to run. He was not going to report an ordinary public disturbance, but was heading directly to the police station to file a complaint in the name of the young master of Song Textiles, accusing these thugs of attempting murder and robbery in broad daylight—a serious offense. The words were extremely blunt, practically piling the worst possible charges onto them. The gang leader’s expression changed several times. No matter how vicious he was, he only knew how to throw his weight around among ordinary people. He still did not have the courage to openly offend powerful families who held real authority. Cursing himself inwardly for having failed to check the almanac before leaving home and run into such a hard target, he could only accept his bad luck. “Let’s go!” But the Troupe Master was still unwilling to give up. Mustering his courage, he called after them, “You... you’re people from the Green Gang? Which year have I ever failed to pay your protection fees? Who sent you here?” The gang leader spat on the ground. His gaze was vicious, but his words were vague and carried an unmistakable warning. “Think about it carefully yourself! When one family dominates the field, it’s bound to make others jealous. You’ve blocked someone else’s road to riches!” The Troupe Master immediately understood. This was probably connected to the other opera garden in the city. The Beicheng opera scene was not dominated by Yuanhe Garden alone. It was just that over the past two years, Bai Qi had appeared like a bolt from the blue. With that voice and that bearing, he had drawn in a huge number of enthusiastic patrons, and for a time, his fame had been unrivaled. It was not as though they had never encountered underhanded tactics before. It was simply that no one had ever been so blatant as to come knocking directly on their door. When Guan Zhi drifted back to the opera garden the next day, he only then heard about the trouble the thugs had caused. He hurriedly grabbed someone and asked, “Is everyone all right? Nobody got hurt, did they? Is Senior Brother Bai okay?” The previous day, he had gone off in high spirits to browse the newly opened department store, making Di Gui accompany him to buy the latest foreign perfume and several flamboyant, garishly patterned neckties. At the time, Di Gui had merely glanced at the expensive bottle of perfume. His brows had not moved at all as he said coldly, “We’re divorced. Why should I still pay for you?” Guan Zhi had been left speechless by that. After a pause, he retorted righteously, “Have you forgotten? I haven’t touched a single cent of the alimony you paid. It’s all still sitting there.” Di Gui’s lips had twitched as his gaze swept over him. “I’m already dead. What does that money have to do with me now?” Guan Zhi had rolled his eyes at once, set the perfume bottle down on the counter, and said stiffly, “If you’re not buying it, then forget it. As if I care.” In the end, however, it was still Di Gui who silently took out his wallet and paid the bill. The two nominal “villains” had not lingered in the department store for long. It would not do to linger together in broad daylight, drawing too much attention and needlessly inviting notice—especially since they were afraid of arousing the “protagonist’s” suspicions. As they walked out of the shopping center, Di Gui glanced at the sky. “At this hour, Song Qing is probably playing the hero and saving the beauty at the opera garden.” Guan Zhi unscrewed his newly purchased perfume and brought it to the tip of his nose for a light sniff. The rich, exotic fragrance spread through the air. He sighed, his voice carrying an exaggerated, half-genuine grievance. “The two of us villains really have it too hard... Sigh. Before long, I’ll have to roll up my bedding and sleep on the streets. And who knows how I’ll die this time.” Di Gui tugged at the corner of his mouth, his tone carrying a trace of careless mockery. “It’s only acting. Why are you taking it so seriously? Don’t tell me... you’ve really developed some other kind of feeling for that fellow surnamed Song?” Guan Zhi instantly bristled and shot back, “With a mouth as vicious as yours, which of my eyes was closed when I fell for you?” A short, cold laugh escaped Di Gui’s nose. He swept Guan Zhi with a chilly glance. “Heh. You got that right. I’ve been reflecting on that question too.” His tone suddenly turned malicious. “So I’ve decided to become the best villain of all. Once we successfully return, I’ll hold my newlywed wife in my arms, and I’ll certainly remember to visit your grave and burn you some paper money, ex-wife.” Guan Zhi was so enraged by his words that his chest burned. He craned his neck and glared back defiantly. “Bullshit! I’ll definitely act better than you! If I hadn’t gotten married to you and been tied down, I’d been approached by talent scouts several times. I was a legitimate candidate for making my debut! ex-husband, I’ll be sure to visit yours too.” Guan Zhi was outgoing and loved dressing up. He had originally returned that day with his purchases, eager to show them off, never expecting that such a dangerous incident would occur at the garden while he was away. The waiter, Qingyang, wiped down a table as he replied with lingering fear, “It’s all thanks to the Song family’s young master being there. He kept the situation under control, so none of us were hurt. But it was probably another opera garden using some underhanded tactics! They couldn’t beat us when they competed head-to-head, so they’ve resorted to these shameful tricks.” The so-called “head-to-head competition” meant that whenever another troupe began a performance, they would hastily set up another stage on the neighboring street or in an empty lot directly opposite. They would perform the same play at the same time, sometimes even spending a fortune to hire a more famous leading performer, forcing a rival show onto the stage. They would slash ticket prices as low as possible, sometimes even making the first few performances free. Their purpose was to forcibly seize all of the other troupe’s audience and popularity, leaving them no room to survive. In the early years, the Troupe Master of Yuanhe Garden and the Troupe Master of their old rival, Lanxiang Opera Garden, had even made a wager publicly in the center of the stage before the gongs were struck. The loser would not only have to dismantle the stage and leave, but also kneel before the other Troupe Master in public, kowtow, and serve him tea, suffering complete humiliation. Such filthy tricks born of rivalry between fellow performers had long since become commonplace in the industry. They were hardly surprising. Stealing or destroying the most important costumes and props belonging to another troupe—the famous performer’s headdress, python robes, or water sleeves—were all acts of depravity that could destroy the foundations of a troupe, and they had happened before as well. After all, without those costumes and props, no matter how excellent the performer or how marvelous the opera, they could not display the same brilliance and grandeur. Guan Zhi said that Bai Qi had been frightened and ought to go out to clear his mind, so he invited him to stroll through the gardens and then took him out for a meal. During the meal, Guan Zhi casually brought up the matter. “The Young Master Song was a tremendous help this time. Aren’t you going to show some appreciation?” Bai Qi’s hand paused around his chopsticks. A genuine look of distress appeared on his face, and he said quietly, “A young master from a family like his has seen every rare and precious thing there is. He lacks nothing. I... I don’t know how I could show my appreciation.” Guan Zhi clicked his tongue and shook his head, his tone filled with exaggerated sympathy. “If I were the Young Master Song, I’d be utterly heartbroken. The last time he heard you were sick, he went to the trouble of entrusting me with such rare Western medicine for you. And this time, he went and got you out of such a serious predicament. I made some inquiries—the people who came to cause trouble yesterday were from the Green Gang, and the Green Gang controls quite a few dock businesses. Young Master Song hasn’t shown his face for so long. Who knows, perhaps the Green Gang has been making things difficult for the Song family’s business because of this.” Bai Qi listened with lowered lashes, staring at the clear soup in his cup. The troubled expression on his face became even more pronounced, and his fingers curled unconsciously. Looking at him like this, Guan Zhi suddenly felt that he was not acting the villain at all. He had practically become a tireless mentor guiding the protagonist through his love life. Seeing Bai Qi’s conflicted expression, Guan Zhi took advantage of the opportunity to suggest, “How about this? I’ll send a calling card on your behalf and invite Young Master Song out. You can personally choose a gift he’ll like, lower your posture a little, and properly thank him. You can’t let your top patron nowadays lose heart, can you?” Bai Qi really did nod, agreeing to it. The situation outside could not be called particularly good at present, but neither was it especially bad. Everyone felt that the ground beneath their feet might suddenly collapse one day without warning, leaving them with no sense of security. The Troupe Master also issued Guan Zhi a final ultimatum. He put it bluntly and showed no mercy: if Guan Zhi’s voice did not recover properly, he could forget about ever going onstage again. The garden did not support idle people. Naturally, Guan Zhi refused to accept this. He held his neck stiff and had a fierce argument with the Troupe Master, leaving them both disgruntled. Bai Qi comforted him in private and advised him to find a better doctor for a thorough examination. Surely they could discover the cause and find a way to treat it. Guan Zhi merely slouched lazily against the back of his chair, raised a hand to touch his throat, and looked away with a trace of self-mockery. “It can’t be cured. Mine is a sickness of the heart. No medicine can help.” Guan Zhi arranged a modest gathering. Before that, Song Qing had visited the opera garden once. As it happened, Di Gui had come with him that day. The moment Guan Zhi saw them, he took the freshly brewed tea over himself. His face was arranged into a perfectly measured smile, and his voice was softer and gentler than usual. “Young Master Song, Young Master Di, have a taste of this newly arrived tea. It’s wonderfully fresh and fragrant.” Di Gui was dressed especially flamboyantly that day, as though he feared no one would notice him. From head to toe, he radiated a carefully cultivated, rakish charm. Song Qing found Guan Zhi lively and amusing. He accepted the teacup and casually asked why Guan Zhi had not appeared onstage for so long. Guan Zhi immediately furrowed his brows and put on the delicate, pained expression of Xi Shi clutching her heart. Drawing out his words, he said, “I’m ill, Young Master Song. My body is too weak. I can’t go onstage just yet.” His tone shifted. His eyes lightly swept toward Song Qing, and his voice dropped, carrying an indistinctly cloying undertone. “But... if Young Master Song is truly interested, I could make an exception and perform a private show just for you.” The implication in those words was almost completely out in the open: he would put on the most exquisite makeup, wear the most magnificent costume, dismiss all other spectators, and sing and trill for one person alone in a secret room for the entire night. Di Gui, who had remained silent until then, suddenly slammed his teacup onto the table. It struck with a crisp clack. His expression darkened, and his icy gaze scraped over Guan Zhi. His tone was filled with undisguised disgust. “Unfit for decent ears. With that awful gong of a voice, you’d better not bring it out to pollute Brother Song’s ears.” Guan Zhi raised a brow and retorted, his tone openly provocative. “Young Master Di, are you just sour because you can’t have any grapes?” Di Gui tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing a humorless smile. His contemptuous gaze swept over Guan Zhi. “Do I need to eat them? One look is enough to tell me they’d make my teeth ache.” Guan Zhi’s expression darkened. Without another word, he raised his hand and flung the little warm tea remaining in his cup directly into Di Gui’s flamboyantly handsome face. Droplets rolled down Di Gui’s sharply defined jawline. His gaze instantly turned sinister, and he forced several words out through clenched teeth. “You—” Song Qing hurriedly rose and stepped between them, attempting to smooth things over. Only after much persuasion did he manage to suppress the sudden conflict. Guan Zhi gave a heavy snort. His chest heaved as he turned angrily, lifted the curtain, and stormed backstage. Song Qing turned to persuade Di Gui, his tone puzzled. “You’ve always been the one who cares most about maintaining your manners. Why did you get into an argument with him today? Guan Zhi is... actually a pretty good person. He’s straightforward.” Di Gui slowly wiped the water from his face with a handkerchief, his voice cold. “He and I are incompatible by the Eight Characters. We were born to clash.” Not long afterward, Di Gui rose, saying that he was going to relieve himself. Backstage, Guan Zhi was facing the mirror and calming himself down when he suddenly heard the door behind him open and swiftly close again. The sound of the lock sliding into place was faint but distinct. The next second, an irresistible force struck him. His entire body was violently yanked around, then pinned firmly against the cold mirror. His cheek pressed against the chilly silvered glass, making his whole body shudder. Di Gui clamped one hand tightly over his mouth, cutting off any sound he might make, while his other hand gripped his supple waist like an iron band. The force was so great that Guan Zhi had no choice but to remain bent forward in that difficult, helpless position, unable to move. Guan Zhi’s figure truly resembled a bunch of fully ripened grapes—slender and supple, as though with just a little more pressure, one could touch the overripe, juice-laden flesh concealed beneath the fabric. Di Gui seized his chin and forced the side of his face more tightly against the mirror. Then he bent down and bit his sensitive earlobe—not hard, but not lightly either. Hot breath poured into his ear as his voice dropped to a vicious whisper. “A private show? Guan Zhi, if you dare... I’ll strip the skin from your body.” Author’s Note: ex-husband: So jealous. ex-wife: Weren’t we supposed to keep our distance?