Volume One: Roaming Luoyang

A youth as elegant as jade, outstanding and unique. Through the mists of a thousand years, the drunkard Ryan Carter emerges out of nowhere.

Chapter 001: A Beauty’s Gamble

The stone bridge, also known as Tianjin Bridge or Luoyang Bridge, spans the Luo River that runs through Luoyang City. Crossing the bridge to the west, you arrive at the “Qingfang.” “The golden wind cools the summer, water pavilions by the river, a crescent moon reflected in the rippling waves”—in the twenty-first year of the Kaiyuan era in the Eastern Capital Luoyang, this was a world-renowned place of bustling pleasure, a land of tenderness where scholars, officials, and nobles lingered and forgot to return.

The “Qingfang” had countless red courtyards, and in each, there were many enchanting songstresses who could steal the souls of men.

This summer was especially hot and dry. Although it was already afternoon, the air was still filled with a suffocating, humid heat.

Upstairs in Mingyue Pavilion, Emily Clark wore light makeup and a thin, open-front short skirt. Above her full, fair chest was a stunningly beautiful face. She leaned desolately against the balcony of her boudoir, gazing at the curve of emerald-green river not far from the building, her brows slightly furrowed, her expression growing ever more forlorn.

With a faint sigh, she lowered her head to look at the deep cleavage on her chest. Between the two plump, fair mounds, a crystal-clear crescent jade pendant hung from a red string, and for a long moment, she was silent.

Her slender jade hand trembled, but in the end, she took off the pendant, bit her lip, and with a flick of her delicate wrist, the crescent jade pendant traced a faint white arc through the air, spun once, and fell.

Downstairs, a young man in a blue shirt looked up greedily at the faintly visible, charming silhouette on the upper floor, unable to help swallowing hard. Suddenly, a sparkling object fell from the sky, landing right at his feet.

With a crisp sound, the crescent pendant remained perfectly intact, “lying” on the bluestone pavement.

The young man let out a surprised sound and squatted down to take a look.

In the center of the flawless white crescent jade, a small red glow flickered, as if trapped within the jade, now darting back and forth. The young man grew even more curious and reached out to pick it up. The moment he touched it, a tingling heat shot up his arm straight to his head, golden stars danced before his eyes, and he fainted on the spot.

……

“Miss, look, that egghead from the Foster family is here again—oh, what’s this, why is he lying on the ground not moving?” The maid Brian carried a basin of clear water, glanced downstairs, and said in surprise.

“Brian, don’t talk nonsense. What egghead? Such vulgar words are awful.” Emily Clark glared at her, lazily got up, and walked to the fragrant bed. “I’m not feeling well today. Close the doors tightly. I won’t see anyone.”

Brian replied obediently, put down the bright yellow-glazed ceramic basin, lifted the pink curtain, and quietly went downstairs.

As Brian was going downstairs, the young man below had just gotten up from the cold, damp ground, patted the dust off his clothes, glanced at her, and simply walked away.

Brian was stunned, wrinkled her small nose, and thought to herself, today this famous egghead of Luoyang seems a bit odd—just left like that? Didn’t pester the miss? Didn’t stare foolishly at her own chest? She touched her forehead and found it covered in fine sweat.

Brian was from the south. At age 12, she was sold by her unscrupulous father to a red courtyard in Luoyang, becoming the personal maid of Mingyue Pavilion’s top songstress, Emily Clark, and it’s been three years now. “Egghead” was a slang term from her hometown, meaning “kept man.” The young man who just left was a great noble of Luoyang—the future son-in-law of the current Left Prime Minister Eugene Foster, Ryan CarterCharles Carter.

It was said that Ryan Carter was also the son of a high official, but now he had fallen to being a good-for-nothing, living off the Prime Minister’s household, idling away his days in pleasure quarters, with a terrible reputation.

……

The streets were bustling with people, carriages, and horses. The young man crossed Luoyang Bridge, his expression strange. After a few steps, he couldn’t help but look back, then walked to the riverbank, stood under the drooping willows, and gazed at his reflection in the clear, mirror-like water, feeling sorry for himself.

Uh…Ryan Carter? The name’s not bad, and this body—tall and handsome—was acceptable, but the reputation was just too rotten, all show and no substance—the only notorious kept man in Luoyang. Heaven! Damn this fate! The young man looked up at the blazing sun, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.

He had been a renowned top sommelier, chief consultant to three major domestic wine conglomerates, an elite in the wine world versed in both ancient and modern brewing techniques and wine culture, with a car, a house, and an annual income of hundreds of thousands. Now, inexplicably, he had traveled back to the Tang Dynasty and become a despised and contemptible wastrel—a total disgrace. At this thought, he cursed inwardly.