Chapter 57: The Scarlet Dance in Chang’an’s Western Market

Looking at Ji Wen’s expression, Han Chaozong felt a surge of satisfaction. He recalled the words Ye Chang had spoken when he first proposed this plan.

“This Judicial Officer Ji is likely a man of the Right Chancellor... The Right Chancellor sent him to Jingzhao not to help, but to gain leverage. Since that's the case, let him serve as the temporary head of the Demolition Office and commander of the City Management Brigade. I know you worry he might not fulfill his duties, perhaps even sabotage things, but it's unnecessary. The Right Chancellor appointed him to Chang’an County for a reason; if Ji wants to maintain favor, he must prove his competence. Otherwise, why would the Right Chancellor continue to support him? He sees the trap, but he has no choice but to step in!”

Han Chaozong didn’t understand what a Demolition Office or City Management Brigade was, but he was seasoned in official affairs. Ye Chang’s hint was enough; Ji Wen was compelled to fall into this pit.

He could not refuse—if he did, Han Chaozong could easily say, “If you can’t handle even this, what use are you?” and sweep him out of his position as Judicial Officer. He couldn’t just muddle through either. If the matter wasn’t resolved, or if Han Chaozong was even slightly dissatisfied, a casual “incompetent” from Han would be reason enough to remove him.

This was not a covert scheme, but an open one. Ji Wen could sacrifice his own future to delay things—but based on Ye Chang and Han Chaozong’s understanding of his character, he would never do such a thing.

His future meant more than anything.

“Well, Judicial Officer Ji, this task is not difficult, but it isn’t easy either—especially since you must follow the regulations Ye Chang drafted. Will you do it or not?”

Ji Wen looked heavenward in silent despair.

Could he refuse?

“I... will do it!” he said through clenched teeth.

“In that case, you must assist Ye Chang. He is now my retained advisor, and he recommended you. You must respect and follow him, not feign compliance!” Han Chaozong’s words blocked Ji Wen’s last escape.

But Ji Wen was deeply calculating; no trace of discouragement showed on his face. He quickly regained composure, nodded to Han Chaozong, and quietly recorded today’s events in his heart.

One day, he would take his revenge on Han Chaozong—but only when he climbed high enough, to a place where even a man like Han Chaozong would have to bow before him.

“You’ve arrived?” Ye Chang greeted Ji Wen with a broad smile as he appeared.

“What instructions does Master Ye have?” Ji Wen replied politely.

“Instructions? Simply to accompany me for a stroll through the Western Market.” Ye Chang, having completed his initial work, smiled. “Since arriving in Chang’an, I’ve never visited the Western Market. Today, I finally have leisure. Ji Wen, accompany me for a tour!”

Even Ji Wen, usually steady, felt the veins on his forehead throb.

Officials should not enter the marketplace lightly, but for official business, it was permitted. Ye Chang left with several clerks and bailiffs in tow. Ji Wen had no choice but to follow. Unexpectedly, as they reached the door, Ye Chang whistled, and from beneath a nearby tree, a burly, rough monk bounded out. “Is it time to break the fast?”

“It is!” Ye Chang laughed. “Monk, let’s go taste the foreign wine at the Western Market!”

“I’ll try the wine, but spare the wine maidens. Monks don’t indulge.”

“Nonsense! Even if you wanted to, you’d never get a chance!”

Hearing their madcap banter as they boarded an oil-skinned carriage, Ji Wen involuntarily curled his lip. He followed, but, unwilling to crowd with Ye Chang, chose to ride his own horse.

Less than half an hour after their departure, a procession appeared before the Jingzhao Office. At its center, a petite girl dressed as a Taoist priestess, her skin snowy, eyes tinged with blue, seemed unaccustomed to the ceremonial display. Yet, led by palace servants and maids, she alighted and entered the Jingzhao Office.

She did not linger long; soon, she emerged hurriedly. At the office threshold, her expression was uneasy, lips pursed, as if wrestling with herself. Boarding her carriage, when asked by the palace servant where she wished to go, she first said “home,” then slapped the armrest: “No, no, to the Western Market!”

The palace servant was stunned. “Your Highness, the Western Market is not a place for you.”

“I am a Taoist, not a princess. I shall go to the Western Market!” The little priestess nearly stood up in her carriage, her voice fierce. “These many days, he hasn’t come to find me, yet dares to go to the market? Today, no matter what, I will bring him into the palace!”

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The palace servant dared not argue further, only glanced at the little priestess, then lowered his head.

The noble members of the Tang imperial clan were not people of gentle temperament; they could commit the wildest acts. Though this little princess had always kept a low profile and lacked the emperor’s favor, she was still of the Tang bloodline. Beneath her shy, gentle demeanor lay latent arrogance and dominance, now seemingly awakened.

Ye Chang had no idea that Little Bug Lady had rushed to Jingzhao Office just to find him; at that moment, he was in the Western Market, utterly astonished.

Since arriving in Chang’an, this was his first visit to the Western Market. He had never been to the city’s famed Western or Eastern Markets, though after wandering the streets of various wards, he thought them nothing special. But today, seeing the Western Market in person, he realized his city was not only the political and cultural heart of the Tang, but also the economic center of the empire—and of the world.

It was truly the world’s economic center. On this street, high-nosed foreigners sang and danced openly, jet-black Kunlun slaves squatted under the trees, Japanese in strange hairstyles and wooden clogs bowed everywhere, and elegantly dressed Silla maids scattered fragrant trails as they hurried by.

Camels and horses streamed endlessly, hauling loads in and out of Chang’an, leaving their dung behind. The market even had workers dedicated to cleaning up, otherwise, after two days, one would need stilts to traverse the filth unsoiled. The cross-shaped avenue of the Western Market was fifteen meters wide, lined with trees, shop signs crowding the sidewalks, hawkers calling out in myriad tongues.

There, snow-skinned foreigners spun in whirling dances; here, the Kunlun slaves leapt and balanced on ropes as if on solid ground. Tavern maidens behind the counters wore sweet smiles, intoxicating passersby, while above, colorful silk sleeves fluttered from the balconies, as if every sleeve hid a beckoning arm.

“Back then, in youth’s spring garb, riding by the slanting bridge, crimson sleeves beckoned from every floor...”

Ye Chang murmured as he gazed, feeling those sleeves truly seemed to call to him.

“Move aside, move aside! Penniless paupers, don’t linger here blocking our business!”

Before Ye Chang could recover, someone shoved him, and the monk Shanzhi was also pushed out.

Who could they blame? Ye Chang had spent days playing ball with ruffians, dressed in the plainest clothes, patched and torn. The monk wore a patchwork robe, and looked nothing like the portly, dignified monks of the monasteries. To observe the Western Market freely, Ye Chang had ordered his clerks and bailiffs to wear plain clothes. The only one in official attire was Ji Wen, who stood afar, watching the commotion.

“No money, no stay?” Ye Chang, accustomed to the ways of the market, was unperturbed. But the monk was not; he stuck out his neck and protested loudly.

“You rough monk! Even if you want to sneak a taste or a whiff, you ought to wear a wig and secular clothes. As you are, how dare you come here? Fear not the Buddha’s wrath?”

“What’s wrath to the Buddha? If you have no money, it’s the girls upstairs who’ll be angry—that’s the real trouble, ha ha...”

A burst of riotous laughter erupted. Ye Chang smiled and shook his head, noting the large “Zhang” character on the sign overhead.

“What now, Master Ye?” A clerk approached, troubled.

“No worries, we’re here for business. The more chaos, the better.” Ye Chang was unconcerned.

“Master Ye, this place is a den of rogues and dragons—not the best locale. Perhaps we should find somewhere quieter and send the bailiffs out instead?” the clerk suggested.

Used to the office, they were not accustomed to suffering in the summer heat.

“If you don’t see and hear for yourself, it’s all talk on paper. To serve Han Chaozong, you must put your heart into it.” Ye Chang smiled.

The clerk fell back two steps, inwardly cursing: liar.

If Ye Chang truly cared for Han Chaozong, why insist on organizing that troublesome soccer match, displeasing Han and making things awkward—after all, the match outside Qinglong Temple slapped not only Lu Qi’s face, but also Han Chaozong’s.

Their conversation blocked the doorway, impeding those seeking pleasure. A woman emerged, pointing at Ye Chang. “You fool, don’t you know better? Blocking my door, ruining my business—get lost!”

She heard Ye Chang’s accent, realized he was not local, and assumed he was a country bumpkin in the capital for business, hoping to extort some money. Ye Chang, feeling at fault, gave a sheepish smile and moved aside; the clerks and bailiffs shrank back silently. Just then, someone upstairs, hearing the commotion, leaned out and, recognizing Ye Chang, sneered.

“Tell Madam Cao not to let these men leave.”

Ye Chang and his companions had barely moved when a runner came down and whispered to the madam. Her eyes flashed, and she rushed over, dragging Ye Chang from behind.

“Oh, who do we have here? Isn’t it the young master? The ladies upstairs have been waiting for you—come, come...”

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Ye Chang was nearly pulled off his feet, but fortunately the monk was nearby. Shanzhi, unaware this was the madam’s usual ploy, grabbed her and lifted her off the ground. Unfortunately, her silk dress was not sturdy; his grip tore it with a loud rip, exposing her pale upper body.

The monk instantly let go. Madam Cao retreated several steps, but the crowd, in their mischief, tugged further, ripping her undergarments. Two trembling peaks were half-exposed. The monk exclaimed, folded his hands, closed his eyes, and muttered, “Sin, sin, tiger, tiger!”

“What?” Ye Chang pulled the monk back, surprised.

“Master said, a woman’s chest hides fierce tigers... Amitabha! I never believed it, but now I see, truly, truly tigers... and they strike straight to the heart...”

“If they’re tigers, monk, why pretend to close your eyes?” Ye Chang noticed the monk’s eyes were not truly closed, but squinted, peeking at the madam’s chest, and couldn’t help but tease him.

“This, this...”

“And besides, the Buddha is merciful—feeding oneself to the tiger is a great act of Buddhist compassion. Now’s your chance to drive away evil, go on, monk, I’m rooting for you!”

Even the monk knew Ye Chang was joking, so he glared at him. “Eleventh Master, don’t...”

“Ah!”

The monk’s words were drowned out by a piercing scream. Ye Chang couldn’t hear what he said after that.

The screamer was Madam Cao. Stunned by the monk’s strength, she finally came to her senses and collapsed, shrieking.

She was a madam, once a courtesan herself; exposing half her chest was nothing. Her orders were to hold Ye Chang and shame him a bit, but the method wasn’t specified.

So, she resorted to her repertoire of drama: crying, screaming, threatening suicide.

“Rape! Murder! Monk sheltering under umbrella—lawless! In broad daylight, under heaven and earth, this bald thief is raping a decent woman...”

Her cries drew the crowd; no matter how the Sogdian fire-spitters flared their flames, or the acrobats made their monkeys tumble, the audience flocked to the scene—what spectacle is more entertaining than people in trouble?

The crowd pressed in, shoulder to shoulder. Ye Chang stroked his chin, eyes flickering, while the monk, flustered, furtively eyed Madam Cao. The clerks and bailiffs were squeezed away by the throng.

Who would willingly stick their neck out for Ye Chang? They only obeyed him out of fear of Han Chaozong. Now, with a chance to watch the drama, they became sly, eager to see if the man Han Chaozong valued so highly had any real ability.

“Hit the monk!”

“Such shameless acts in daylight!”

“That’s right, don’t let the monk escape, apprehend him!”

The crowd shouted, Ye Chang looked at Madam Cao on the ground, then around—the situation seemed suspicious.

But the priority was to help the monk escape. Shanzhi had never faced such scenes; his face was purple, eyes bulging, about to lose control.

If he acted out in the Western Market, even with Han Chaozong’s protection, it would be bad—Han might even look down on Ye Chang.

“Everyone, everyone, please listen to me, listen to me!” Ye Chang shouted.

“Don’t listen, he’s in league with the monk!” Madam Cao shrieked.

“I may be with the monk, but haven’t you heard of ‘sacrificing for the greater good’?” Ye Chang raised his voice, drowning out Madam Cao’s cries.

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