After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 39

Meng Guanlou enjoyed beating the jiegu¹ after bouts of heavy drinking.

This jiegu, made from ramskin and originating from Qingzhou, produced a crisp, resonant sound. He would hang the drum from his body, his hair loose, and after finishing a performance, his bare torso glistened with a sheen of sweat, releasing his pent-up emotions.

“Go, rinse the contents of that paper packet with water,” Meng Guanlou gasped, his eyes vacant.

In the room, a petite, 18-year-old courtesan cautiously moved to the table. Trembling, she accidentally spilled the powder inside the packet. Instantly, Meng Guanlou seized her wrist in anger, shouting, 

“You dare spill it outside!”

In a fit of rage, he dragged her to the floor. The courtesan trembled in fear, but instead of striking her, Meng Guanlou pulled her into his arms, sank to his knees on the carpet, and, tears streaming from his handsome eyes, began to sob.

Drunken madness could perhaps be excused. The courtesan froze, listening to him as he rested his head on her lap and asked, 

“I heard you used to serve Lu Huating often. What did you two do?”

“Advisor Lu only drank wine. I never spoke with him,” the courtesan whispered timidly.

“What kind of people did he meet regularly?”

“He…didn’t meet many,” she replied.

Meng Guanlou stopped asking questions. The courtesan, emboldened, reached out and stroked his hair, like a mother comforting a child. 

“Sir, have you suffered some heartbreak? My name is Wenniang. When I was little and upset, I would rest on my father’s lap, and he would comfort me this way.”

Meng Guanlou laughed bitterly, his tear-filled eyes turning redder. 

“Even a courtesan like you had a good father.”

“Do you know what my father said to me most often? That I was nothing compared to that illegitimate brat. He would never comfort me like this—neither would my mother.”

“Why… Why am I always just a little short? I’m clearly so talented, clever since childhood, blessed with the best teachers, the best family, the best mother. Yet somehow, it’s never enough. And then there’s someone like him, born with nothing, who effortlessly… He’s a monster, not even human.”

Meng Guanlou’s skin flushed red as he grew increasingly agitated. Looking up expectantly at Wenniang, he asked, 

“Tell me, who do you think is more handsome—me or Lu Huating?”

Wenniang hesitated, glancing at his striking features before whispering, 

“…Advisor Lu, I think.”

Meng Guanlou began to laugh maniacally. Overcome by heat, he tried to strip further, but his clothes were already off, leaving scratch marks on his skin. Finding another paper packet on the floor, he handed it to Wenniang. 

“Here, have some too.”

Wenniang recoiled in terror, waving her hands frantically. 

“Sir, this stuff cannot be consumed recklessly! This is Wushi San from beyond the borders—it was banned by the previous dynasty’s Emperor for a reason.”

“You even know the ban?” Meng Guanlou’s expression darkened.

“Let me be honest, sir,” Wenniang confessed nervously. “I spilled it earlier on purpose. You’ve already had alcohol; you can’t take this powder as well, or it’ll—it’ll ruin you.”

At the word “ruin,” Meng Guanlou’s face twisted with rage. He pinned her to the bed, frantically tugging at his pants. Yet after a moment, Wenniang let out a startled “Ah!” and her confused expression softened. “Sir, could it be that you truly can’t…?”

“Get out! Get out of here!” Meng Guanlou roared, pounding the bed in fury, his eyes burning redder. He began to long for Yunu. No matter what he said, Yunu’s pure, gentle almond-shaped eyes would always gaze at him with playful affection, never fear or disgust like these others.

But even Yunu…he couldn’t protect her. His father had killed her without hesitation…

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Wenniang ran to open it, letting out a startled cry. Meng Guanlou staggered toward the entrance, his pupils shrinking.

Standing outside was Lu Huating, impeccably dressed. He glanced at Wenniang before fixing his gaze on Meng Guanlou, a faint, meaningful smile playing on his lips.

Meng Guanlou’s insides churned with a mix of anger and dread. 

“What did you tell him?” he demanded.

Wenniang fearfully hid behind Madame Liu, showing only half her face. At Meng Guanlou’s words, her expression flickered, and she covered her mouth with her sleeve, as if she was disgusted. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

The more evasive she was, the more suspicious Meng Guanlou became. His head buzzed. “Come out here and explain yourself!”

“Is Master Meng planning to beat me too?” Wenniang pretended to sob.

Madame Liu quickly intervened, and Lu Huating extended a hand to stop Meng Guanlou, who was about to charge forward. 

“Hey, what are you doing?”

The four of them were locked in a tense standoff at the door.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Qun Qing opened the window to Lu Huating’s private room. She stood at the window, listening to the commotion below. Watching as the patrolling servant with a lantern moved to the back of the building, she stepped out, adjusted her skirt, and pushed herself off the window frame. Hanging from above, she slipped through the window into Meng Guanlou’s room.

Dressed only in thin stockings, Qun Qing landed silently, her knees bent to cushion the fall, disturbing only a corner of the curtain.

Meng Guanlou’s room was much larger, with walls elegantly lined with paper. A canopy bed stood in the room, with its drapes and pillows strewn across the floor. The air was heavy with a pungent incense, slightly choking.

Qun Qing began her search.

She headed straight for the multi-treasure cabinet under the desk, where valuables were usually stored. However, when her gaze landed on a bookshelf along the wall, she changed her plan.

Meng Guanlou, a typical noble scion, lived an elegant life. His shelves were filled with poetry collections and music scores, neatly packed. The bookshelf had ten rows.

She pulled a book from the position labeled horizontally as “nine” and vertically as “four.”

Opening it, her heart sank—it was just an ordinary music score.

Had she misunderstood the clue?

Just as she prepared to continue searching, the sound of chaotic footsteps reached her ears. Qun Qing quickly pulled out books from positions “four-nine” and other potential spots before sliding under the large canopy bed to hide.

Outside, Meng Guanlou grabbed Lu Huating by the collar while Lu Huating held onto his wrist. Madame Liu’s attempts to mediate and Wenniang’s startled cries had drawn the attention of Cui Zhu.

“Stop this!” Cui Zhu arrived swiftly with two of his younger cousins. “What are you two doing?”

“If you’re here to enjoy yourselves, why the quarrel?” Cui Zhu examined the scene, noting the open door to Meng Guanlou’s room. “Come, let me invite the gentlemen to a drink.”

His two cousins took the hint and quietly slipped into Meng Guanlou’s room.

Lu Huating glanced toward the room, then fixed his gaze on Meng Guanlou. 

“Someone’s entered your room.”

“You bastard! This is my private space, not a marketplace! Who allowed you in here?” Meng Guanlou erupted in fury. “Cui Zhu, do you have no respect for me?”

Under the bed, Qun Qing watched as the two pairs of feet drew closer, then moved away, allowing her a brief moment of relief.

Yet, the books she had checked held no sign of an account book.

“Come,” Cui Zhu’s voice carried from outside as he scolded his brothers. 

“Who told you to go inside? You’ve already toppled the bookshelf with the jade vase from Nanhai once. Are you looking to cause trouble again?”

Hearing this, Qun Qing felt a chill down her spine. Toppling the bookshelf… It almost sounded like Cui Zhu was taunting her on purpose.

After Lady Chun’s mishap, Cui Zhu had likely scoured the entire establishment for the account book’s whereabouts. Considering Lady Chun’s close ties with Yunu, he would undoubtedly suspect this connection.

Even if Meng Guanlou’s room was private, Cui Zhu could easily find excuses—such as repairs or gift deliveries—to search it. And during one of Meng Guanlou’s visits, Cui Zhu might’ve deliberately toppled the shelf, using the opportunity to inspect its contents.

The accounting book—might have already have been found by Cui Zhu? This thought sent a chill down her spine.

Even if it wasn’t found but merely disrupted, that ten-tiered bookshelf, holding thousands of volumes, would be impossible to sift through in one night…

With the effects of alcohol rising, Qun Qing felt her head spinning, her temples throbbing in waves, and a wave of heat relentlessly surging upward.

Cui Zhu’s spoke to Lu Huating: “Didn’t you leave with another lady today? Why are you suddenly free to stick up for your old acquaintance Wenniang? Where’s that lady? If she doesn’t please you, why not call her here to accompany me?”

Lu Huating replied, “I happened to get along with that lady at first sight. I plan to redeem her and marry her in the future. Would Brother Cui be so ungracious as to take her away from me?”

“Of course not…” Cui Zhu hadn’t expected this answer.

Meng Guanlou interjected ominously, “Have you forgotten how you treated me? I could accuse you right now of taking a courtesan as a concubine and keeping a mistress!”

“I’m not one to vie for the favor of a princess, so why would I take a courtesan as a concubine?” Lu Huating smiled innocently. “When I said marry, I meant to make her my wife.”

“You must be out of your mind…”

At these words, the two seemed to come to blows.

Qun Qing, lying prone on the ground, absorbed the conversation. Somehow, the exchange seeped into her ears, as quietly as dew soaking into a carpet.

Lu Huating, for all his cunning, could fabricate tales involving his enemy as easily as writing on paper, spinning them with such seriousness that it seemed effortless. His stalling tactics pushed her to emerge from hiding, enduring her headache as she rose to reexamine the bookshelf.

She refused to believe the worst had already happened.

That elusive “assassin-level spy” Lady Chun, who she had never met, must have been a meticulous and resourceful person. Otherwise, a simple nursery rhyme wouldn’t have been enough to stump her.

Qun Qing closed her eyes, imagining herself as Lady Chun. If she were in Lady Chun’s position—needing to hide evidence under Cui Zhu’s watch while leaving clues for Southern Chu operatives—she wouldn’t want painstakingly gathered proof to vanish along with her death.

This meant the coordinates—horizontal nine, vertical four—held not only a decoy but surely the real account book as well.

Cui Zhu must have messed up the bookshelf and taken the decoy, believing he had the upper hand. That was likely why he hadn’t taken action against her yet.

But where was the real Lady Chun?

Cui Zhu used all his strength to pull Meng Guanlou back and was visibly irritated by then. “The Crown Prince is patrolling nearby tonight. Even if you won’t give Advisor Lu any face, surely you can at least show me some respect?”

Meng Guanlou stopped his assault. Hearing the gongman below calling for him, Cui Zhu flung his sleeves and left.

Lu Huating leaned on the railing, straightened his collar, looked Meng Guanlou up and down, and said sarcastically, 

“Did you hear that? The Crown Prince is coming. Look at you—disheveled like this. Is this how you want your master to see you?”

Meng Guanlou glared at him, stumbled a few steps, and retreated to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Inside, he picked up the round-collared robe from the bed and hastily pulled it over his head. But before he could finish, a needle pierced silently through the collar, turning the robe into a sealed bag.

Meng Guanlou struggled furiously within.

Seizing the chaos, Qun Qing slipped out of the room. Her sudden appearance startled Wenniang, who widened her eyes in shock but lowered them again without saying a word.

Lu Huating took one glance at her and instantly understood that the account book had been secured. He strode forward, and Qun Qing fell in step beside him, as if they had been walking together all along.

Seeing Lu Huating raise his hand to wipe the blood from his mouth, Qun Qing realized that his stalling tactics had come at the price of being struck in the face by Meng Guanlou.

“Where did you find it?” Lu Huating asked quietly.

“In the wall,” Qun Qing replied just as softly.

Lu Huating glanced at her, now understanding why it had taken her so long. Her clothes were covered in dust, indicating she had endured considerable hardship. Unable to help himself, he curved his lips slightly.

Qun Qing lowered her eyes, recalling the scene from a quarter-hour earlier.

Standing before the bookshelf, she had tried to think like Lady Chun. Since the coordinates were left for Yunu as a clue, it had to be something that could mislead Cui Zhu while pointing the way to Southern Chu operatives. Lady Chun wouldn’t want her evidence buried forever.

The decoy was indeed placed at “horizontal nine, vertical four.” However, behind the decoy was a hidden compartment containing the real account book.

Amid the rowdy festivities, Qun Qing stepped on a loose gemstone, frowning as it dug into her foot. Lu Huating noticed her glance downward and realized she was only wearing socks under her dress.

His gaze flicked away, but seeing her in mere socks on the dirty floor of the Siye Tower seemed improper.

A guest ahead accidentally shattered a wine jar, spilling its contents with a crisp crash. Lu Huating raised a hand to stop Qun Qing. 

“Where are your shoes hidden? Let me fetch them for you.”

Qun Qing also saw the broken shards littering the ground. If she stepped on one, her duties for the night would be compromised.

But knowing Lu Huating’s devious nature, she feared he might use the opportunity to call for reinforcements and snatch the account book. Feigning compliance, she replied, 

“Just around the corner behind us.”

The Siye Tower was a place of opulence, and Qun Qing had noticed that at each corner behind the pillars of every floor, there were dressing tables adorned with flowers, alongside an array of freshly prepared rouge, powders, clothing, and shoes—likely provided for the courtesans to use if needed after drinking.

She rummaged through one of the dressing tables and found a pair of shoes that roughly fit her. After slipping them on, she stood up just as Lu Huating glanced away, only to lock eyes with Lin Yujia, whose face peeked around furtively.

Before Lu Huating could warn her, Qun Qing had already reacted. She grabbed a plain fan from somewhere and used it to shield her face, lowering her gaze with an expression of shy modesty.

Lu Huating’s gaze lingered for a moment, noticing the delicate arch of her lashes and how they fluttered when she looked up, resembling butterfly wings. Her demeanor carried an unpolished youthfulness, yet her features held a soft, determined strength.

Suddenly, she felt Lu Huating grab her wrist through his sleeve and lift the fan she was using to shield her face. She signaled at him with her eyes to stop, but he ignored her, continuing to raise the fan until it also obscured her eyes.

If her whole face was covered, it would not only block her vision but also draw undue attention. Their wrists clashed in subtle resistance as Lin Yujia’s approaching footsteps grew closer, leaving Qun Qing unable to act rashly.

Then, a shadow cast over her vision, suggesting Lu Huating had turned to shield her from view.

Lin Yujia, harboring suspicions, quickened his pace when he saw Lu Huating with the courtesan again. He approached determined to uncover the truth, regardless of the consequences. To his surprise, Lu Huating nonchalantly circled his arm around the courtesan, positioning her beside the dressing table. Any closer, and Lin Yujia risked impropriety.

As Lin Yujia stepped nearer, he saw Lu Huating holding a box of rouge, dipping a brush into it. With surprising leisure, Lu Huating leaned closer to the courtesan and began painting her fan. “Are you always this bothersome? Even when I’m drinking, you just have to join the fun?”

Embarrassed and flustered, Lin Yujia turned red and white in quick succession. He muttered an apology and reluctantly left.

In the white haze of Qun Qing’s obstructed view, streaks of vivid red began to take shape. A second, third, and fourth petal fell into place, forming a radiant flower. She held her breath, captivated by the intricate design blossoming in the hazy void before her.

Lu Huating was utterly focused, his movements precise. When he finished the final stroke, his eyelashes quivered briefly. He shifted her fan aside, stood, and turned to leave. 

“The Udumbara flower you wanted, my lady—it’s yours.”