Volume One: The Hound Spreads Its Wings?

Chapter One: Flowers Don’t Intoxicate, But People Get Drunk (Part One)

Outside the room, the sound of silk and bamboo instruments drifted melodiously; William Sullivan sat with head bowed, drinking gloomily.

This was the main room on the west floor of Yanchun Courtyard at Hanjia Pool in the capital. The girls of Yanchun Courtyard were mostly stunning beauties from Jiangnan’s Suzhou and Zhejiang, famed throughout the city. The courtyard had two sections, with two-story buildings on all sides. The staircase on the south side wound upward, and colorful ribbons of red and green hung over the thresholds of each room inside the courtyard—regular patrons could tell which beauty resided within.

The outer and inner chambers of William Sullivan’s room were filled with fragrance; the luxurious, brightly colored pillows and soft beds exuded a heady scent, making one unconsciously feel a sense of pleasure and indulgence.

A table of carved zitan wood with lingzhi and scrolling grass motifs, and the most fashionable rosewood armchairs among the capital’s official families—rumor had it you could sit for two or three hours without back pain. The furnishings in the hall were all grand and extraordinary. This room had originally been secretly reserved by a yellow-belted noble from the inner city, named Charles Bennett, who had secured a post at the Infantry Commander’s Office, but only knew how to frequent brothels and smoke opium. Not yet twenty, he was already frail and thin as a consumptive. William Sullivan had known Charles Bennett since childhood; they entered the Jueluo Academy the same year, practically growing up together naked, but in the end, he could not persuade him otherwise.

Today, William Sullivan was feeling stifled, and the yellow-belted Charles Bennett was on duty at the office and couldn’t accompany him. So Charles Bennett had repeatedly urged William Sullivan to come to Yanchun Courtyard, even saying that a courtesan he had paid to deflower would be given to his elder brother today to lift his spirits. Thus, William Sullivan had come to Yanchun Courtyard almost without realizing it.

“Master, drinking in gloom is bad for your health.” Standing to the side of William Sullivan was a skinny, monkey-faced man in a blue robe and flowered jacket, with sly, triangular eyes that darted about—clearly not someone easy to deal with.

He was called James Foster, fourth in his family, and everyone outside called him Mr. Foster. On the streets, he was a figure whose very step could make the neighborhood tremble. He was a bondservant of Prince Zheng’s household, the personal attendant of the prince’s only son. If the young master inherited the title in the future, Henry Foster would become a third-rank steward in the prince’s household—so who wouldn’t respectfully greet him as Mr. Foster?

Henry Foster knew the young master was troubled today, so he had gone along with Mr. Bennett’s lousy idea and brought the young master to Yanchun Courtyard. After all, the rules for imperial clan members were strict; if anyone found out he had encouraged his young master to visit a brothel, he might get his legs broken and be exiled beyond the pass. But Henry Foster was full of tricks—he’d surely find a way to deal with it even if someone reported him.

Seeing the young master drinking gloomily, Henry Foster had no choice but to speak up. Although the young master was no longer young, and by rights should have married long ago, he seemed clueless about matters between men and women. There had never been any talk of him taking advantage of the maids in the household. What was odd about this master was that all his attendants were eunuchs, so there were rumors outside that the young master had a fondness for men—though no one knew if it was true.

To lift his spirits, wouldn’t it be a hundred times better to have a lovely young lady in his arms than this?

Henry Foster muttered inwardly, but dared not say it aloud.

As William Sullivan drank, he sighed softly in his heart. In this vast world, who could understand his feelings at this moment?

He had been in this world for twenty years. In his previous life, he was an orphan, but blessed by heaven, he had enjoyed wealth and honor from childhood in this life. Although he had once felt awkward being a Manchu noble, over time he had come to accept it. Besides, his mother, Lady Ye, was from the Han Army Banner, and his father’s bloodline was already far from pure. In any case, this body was more than half Han. His father doted on him, and his mother spoiled him even more—they truly held him in their hands for fear he’d fall, and in their mouths for fear he’d melt. In swaddling clothes, he had enjoyed the parental love he’d never known in his previous life.

He had no interest in riding, archery, or the Manchu language, but his father let him be. In fact, after yesterday’s title examination, his father had even quarreled with Prince Gong upon hearing that the latter had called him “unambitious” behind his back.

In recent years, the title examinations had become mere formalities, especially since he was the only heir of the prince’s household, and his branch held an iron-cap hereditary title. Barring accidents, he would inherit the title sooner or later. Who could have guessed that the Imperial Clan Court would suddenly make a big show of inviting many princes, lords, and nobles to witness the event, only for him to perform poorly in all three categories—literature, arts, and riding—making a complete fool of himself.

At twenty, his father had hoped that after this evaluation, he could be named heir apparent—a rank equal to a commandery prince, and by the rules of the imperial clan, entitled to his own household. But now, if he were an ordinary imperial clansman, failing all three exams would mean his title would be suspended. As the yellow-belted heir of an iron-cap family, he was different—he was granted the title of First-Rank General of the State, which was actually a rank lower than his father’s title at the same age. But back then, his father had several brothers, and it wasn’t certain who would inherit the title. He, on the other hand, was the only son.

To be fair, First-Rank General of the State was a third-rank title—about the equivalent of a deputy provincial official in later times, a well-paid idler. Whether as heir or general, as a modern person, he didn’t really care about such things.