Chapter 7 – The Mud District

Oubuli An excitedly ran back with the contract he had just written. But upon opening the door, he found the atmosphere inside strange.

From the start, the two “brothers” hadn’t had much brotherly love, but now, it even looked like the two had just fought. At the very least, Oubuli An didn’t remember Fang Tinglan being so dusty when he had left.

Hai Lian sat with his arms crossed.

“Get rid of that, I’ll loan you money.” He said coldly.

“My brother’s just throwing a tantrum. We’re a family, there’s no difference between ‘mine’ and ‘yours’,” Fan Tinglan said helplessly. He stood halfway across the room.

“How can you still be so childish?” He sighed softly.

Hai Lian sucked in a breath, forcing down his disgust. He squeezed his dagger’s handle, but since Oubuli An was still here, Hai Lian could only let go and silently fume.

Oubuli An froze, unsure of who to listen to. He stood still for a moment, but eventually gave up on understanding these two brothers, ultimately handing the contract to Fang Tinglan.

“Thank you very much.”

He attempted – and failed – a Dongzhou style salute.

Fang Tinglan ticked up an eyebrow.

“I only need to sign?”

“Wait, wait. Hai Lian, I also have something for you.” Oubuli An hurriedly called out to Hai Lian, who was frustrated into leaving.

“I was afraid of losing it, so I put it with my drafts. The landlord ended up taking it along with my things.” He pulled out a letter sealed with a fiery red stamp.

“Who sent it?” Hai Lian immediately recognized the red eagle insignia.

“A boy, I couldn’t tell who. Probably just an errand boy,” Oubuli An shook his head.

Hai Lian twisted his mouth and opened the envelope. There was only a thin piece of paper. He quickly scanned over the contents and turned to look at Oubuli An.

“When did it arrive?”

“Four days ago.”

“There’s still time.” Hai Lian muttered to himself. He shoved the letter into his jacket, left the room, and was about to descend the stairs when he seemed to have thought of something.

“I need to take care of something. Since you get along so well with my brother, I’ll trouble you to take care of him. He just arrived.” Hai Lian addressed Oubuli An. At the word “brother”, Hai Lian smirked at Fang Tinglan. His unruly bangs fluttered between them, before disappearing along with Hai Lian.

Unaware of the fact that he’d just been sold out by Hai Lian, Oubuli An happily agreed, then turned to smile at Fang Tinglan.

“Mister Fang, how about we go to the tavern down the street and get to know each other over a nice meal?”

If it hadn’t been for the loud rumbling of his stomach, Oubuli An might have pulled off a good impression as a “warm and hospitable resident of Jiumeng City.”

Just like when Fang Tinglan had played his “kindness” card without letting Hai Lian get a word in edgewise, Hai Lian had left Fang Tinglan behind like baggage without a second thought. Fang Tinglan stared after the direction Hai Lian had left in. The corner of his eye twitched before his smile returned.

“Then I’ll be troubling you.”

“This area was originally called Anwan’na District, meaning mirror and reflection in Nanjing’s dialect. But nobody actually calls it that.” Oubuli An lifted his foot and motioned to his soles.

“We call it the Mud District.”

Fang Tinglan looked around.

“Very appropriate.”

Like the black mud that filled the streets, Anwan’na District housed all the filth of Jiumeng City. From petty thieves to fierce pirates, pimps to murderers and slaves to masters, all sorts of people that normally wouldn’t see the light of the day rooted themselves and flourished here. Here, there were no white walls and red tiles as written in the travel notes of Dongzhou’s libraries, nor were there smiling, jade-eyed beauties dressed in vibrant colors. Even the bouquets hanging along the walls were a size smaller than other places. The flowers hung their heads listlessly, their petals falling sporadically and silently mixing into the dust below.

“The Jiumeng City that you Dongzhou people dream of is over there.” Oubuli An pointed far off in front.

“That’s Bainiao1 District, just across the Daoying2 River. All the aristocratic and rich live over there. If you travel beyond the Bainiao District into the mountains, you’ll find Tisu’s palace.”

“What’s that?” Fang Tinglan looked in the direction Oubuli An pointed out and suddenly spotted something else.

Within their field of vision was an enormous white platform standing majestically by the mountain’s cliffs. From where Fang Tinglan stood, he could even faintly make out the intricate patterns carved around this behemoth and the rice-sized soldiers guarding it. The platform was shaped like an eagle spreading its wings; the mountain, wings, and verdant vegetation skillfully blended into one. Compared to this striking platform, the Tisu palace – also sitting in the mountain – appeared somewhat tacky.

“That?” Oubuli An squinted and adjusted his glasses. “You don’t know? That’s our country’s pride and joy, the Yonghuai3 Platform.”

Yonghuai… Fang Tinglan pondered over the name before finally matching his father’s words to the structure before him.

“I’ve heard of it, we call it Qiwu Platform.”

“That name seems more appropriate,” Oubuli An said with surprise.

“After all, it was originally built to let a woman rest atop.”

“A woman?”

“The protagonist of our fourth history record4, Queen Adoulier. If you’d like to hear her story, I know enough to spend three days and three nights telling you.”

Leaving Fang Tinglan with Oubuli An was indeed a wise decision. The writer did not look hostilely upon Fang Tinglan, nor did he scoff at the other man’s questions. In fact, he seemed tempted to recite the story of Jiumeng City down to the origins of every last tile’s cracks to this newcomer.

Unfortunately, tales of dead people and city gossip didn’t help Fang Tinglan at all. He simply smiled and turned down the offer, opting to change the topic himself.

Before they knew it, the two had arrived at the tavern. Sounds of faint humming floated out from behind the door. Fang Tinglan pushed open the door.

In the taverns of the Mud district, there were no green-eyed girls wearing white dresses and golden jewelry, nor was there any grape wine. The plump, dark-skinned lady boss brought the two a large bottle of yellow ale and a plate of obviously old bacon. Then, she continued to wipe tables under the dim lighting, humming her song.

The ale had no sooner entered his mouth, than Fang Tinglan had the sudden impulse to leave and get some fresh air. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had bad wine before. There was a year when he’d spent a winter night freezing half to death in Chijin City’s dungeon. The neighboring death-row prisoner had shared a sip of wine from his final meal. Fang Tinglan thought that horse-piss flavored wine would be his deepest familiarity with “bad wine.” Yet somehow, he’d found a country where even this over fermented waste water could be called “wine.”

His parents definitely hadn’t drunk this sort of thing, Fang Tinglan thought to himself. Otherwise, with his mother’s fiery temper, she might’ve poured this yellow liquid right back into the lady boss’s nose.

The man across from Fang Tinglan wasn’t so picky. Oubuli An lifted his cup and downed half in a single breath. Putting the cup back down, he finally seemed more alive. Seeing disbelief flash across Fang Tinglan’s face, Oubuli An explained awkwardly.

“I haven’t eaten all day, I’m really… You won’t take offense, right?”

Fang Tinglan smiled and shook his head. He quietly pushed his own cup away.

“Let’s continue talking about Jiumeng City itself; how about Bainiao District?”

 

Author’s note:

Hai Lian: I’ve found a way to keep you from disgusting me

Fang Tinglan: Hm?

Hai Lian: Baibai.jpg

Fang Tinglan: …

 

T/N: I’ll start making a list of people and places on the novel’s main page so that people who forget (like me) can refer to…

1

Bainiao: white bird

2

Daoying: reflection

3

Yonghuai: Eternal (the two characters literally mean “forever” and “constant”)

4

fourth history record: basically each dynasty or each emperor would have their history recorded. In this case they’re referring to a poem/epic