William Brooks shook his head and said, “Disaster victims are everywhere, yet we sit in lofty halls drinking wine and listening to music—what kind of conduct is that?”

Samuel Foster saw that William Brooks did not look resolute and said, “I truly have other thoughts, I hope you won’t take offense, my real intention is to earnestly request that you commend Grace Bennett for her charitable deeds in disaster relief…”

Seeing that William Brooks said nothing and simply turned to leave the mountain with Henry Clark, he figured his tactful explanation had been accepted. He smiled inwardly—who doesn’t like a beautiful woman? Spotting a constable in black uniform standing not far away, he beckoned him over, and as he followed William Brooks toward the city, he instructed the constable to invite Grace Bennett to the evening banquet to liven things up with her company.

The constable in black was a short, stout man with broad brows and squinting eyes. He accepted the order and headed down the mountain toward the river embankment.

The original ferry crossing had long been submerged by the river. Outside the embankment, a makeshift dock had been built with upright posts driven into the riverbank and flat pine planks laid across them, but even now, half of it was underwater. The pleasure boat was tall, and with the water level of the Whitewater River rising, its deck towered well above the pine dock. The constable stood on the dock but couldn’t even see over the edge. The gangplank at the bow had been pulled up, so he couldn’t see what was happening on the boat, nor did he want to clamber up awkwardly. Instead, he pointed to a nearby black-awning boat and signaled the boatman to pole it over. The black-awning boat was higher than the dock but lower than the pleasure boat, so stepping from it onto the pleasure boat was much better than scrambling up on all fours.

As soon as the constable jumped onto the bow of the black-awning boat, a young servant in green clothes emerged from the cabin, and the two nearly collided. The constable was startled and cursed, “Are you a ghost, popping out like that… Your useless young master came back from the dead and scared the hired mortician into a faint—damn it, are you trying to scare me to death too?”

Volume One: Pirates of Mountains and Seas

Chapter Two: Fright Within and Without the Dream

Standing on the black-awning boat, the constable could look up and see the deck at the bow of the pleasure boat. Aside from four or five boatmen lounging under the canopy at the bow, lazily smoking dry tobacco, there was no one else in sight. He didn’t want to deal with these hired boatmen, and hearing someone inside the cabin tuning a zither intermittently, he called out, “Miss Xiaoman, Miss Xiaoman, could you please ask Miss Bennett to come speak?”

The decorative window of the pleasure boat opened, revealing a small, fair face as white as jade. She looked at the constable standing on the black-awning boat but said nothing. Instead, a thin, elderly man of about fifty circled to the bow from behind. He glanced at the sky, saw the rain had stopped, and then asked the constable, “What business does Master Cooper have with Miss Bennett?”

“Is Master Foster teasing me?” The constable cupped his hands in greeting. His surname was Zheng, given name Shi, and others called him Master Cooper, a title he accepted without fuss. The thin old man before him, John Foster, was a bodyguard hired by the pleasure boat. When Grace Bennett had just docked outside the embankment, George Cooper had personally seen more than a dozen local thugs board the boat to cause trouble, only to be beaten and kicked into the river by John Foster’s two apprentices. Lately, there were rumors in the county that John Foster was a famous martial artist in Jiangning, who had once run a martial arts school in the city but had fallen on hard times and now worked as a bodyguard with a few apprentices in the brothel district.

George Cooper thought to himself that these brothel folk really knew how to put on airs. In Baisha County, there was no distinction between registered prostitutes and musicians; in his eyes, no matter how famous Grace Bennett was, she was no different from the courtesans and secret prostitutes of Wenchang Lane. Yet, officials just loved this sort of thing. Not daring to act superior in front of John Foster, he simply said, “Lord William Brooks is currently in the county and is very… very… well, impressed by Miss Bennett’s deeds, and wishes to host a banquet in her honor. It’s definitely not just to have Miss Bennett accompany him for drinks.”

George Cooper did his best to repeat Samuel Foster’s refined words, but by the time he’d come down the mountain and up the embankment, he’d forgotten some of it, and felt his own words sounded rather dry. In the end, he added a line that revealed Samuel Foster’s true intent. Glancing toward the cabin, he saw a flash of green clothing behind the decorative window, but no face. He thought to himself that even the top courtesan Hong Cui in Baisha County only charged two taels of silver for an overnight stay, but to board this boat and listen to this woman play the zither and sing a few tunes was worth five nights with Hong Cui. Truly, people from the big city of Jiangning were something else.

“Please wait a moment, Master Cooper. Miss Bennett is tidying up her instruments.” John Foster frowned slightly, but couldn’t afford to offend the local officials too much, so he left George Cooper waiting and turned to ask the young servant in green standing at the bow of the black-awning boat, “How is your Young Master Sullivan’s health?”

“His health is fine, but he just sits there all day in a daze, like he’s lost his soul, and won’t see anyone…” the young servant replied carelessly, with little respect for the so-called Young Master Sullivan, and even a hint of annoyance in his tone.

John Foster smiled and said, “You should ask Master Cooper to see if there’s a doctor in town who can help calm his nerves. With Young Master Sullivan like this, Miss Bennett feels quite uneasy about it…”

“He jumped into the water himself—what’s it got to do with Miss Bennett? If it weren’t for her help these past two days…” the young servant said, then asked the boatman at the bow who was brewing medicine, “Is the medicine ready yet?” He couldn’t help but complain, “Lucky he didn’t die. Let’s hope he gets home safe and sound, then I’ll have done my job. Otherwise, I’ll be skinned alive when I get back.”

The Young Master Sullivan they were talking about was sitting right then in the cabin of the black-awning boat—the cabin was cramped and dimly lit, his face a little pale, a young scholar just past twenty.