Chapter Four: The Bidding

“Ladies and gentlemen! Esteemed housekeepers from each household! It’s time once again for the triennial auction of the Thousand Gold Maidens. Many thanks for your patronage. On behalf of our master, I bow to you all.” The shopkeeper’s face was a mask of smiles as he bowed deeply to the assembled audience.

Lingran had not slept well the night before. The unfamiliar wooden bed of this ancient era was truly uncomfortable, and now, after waiting so long, she was growing drowsy again. The drawn-out prologue on stage was clearly going to be tedious, and she could not help but stifle a yawn behind her hand.

Down below, some noticed her, quietly whispering that this young woman clearly lacked proper decorum. Some even speculated that she did not come from a good background.

The overseer on stage, however, noticed nothing, and continued to praise the Thousand Gold Maidens they had gathered, boasting that each had been purchased at great expense, and not only were their appearances exceptional, but each possessed remarkable talents: some excelled in poetry and painting, others in song and dance, some in embroidery, and yet others in culinary arts. He even bragged about the last group of maidens—one had become a concubine of a prince, another a favored consort in a noble household, and another had risen to fame as a celebrated courtesan in the capital. In short, to buy a Thousand Gold Maiden was to be assured of one’s investment.

His extravagant praise brought excitement to the crowd, and even most of the young women on stage had their eyes shining with hope.

Having finished his introduction, the shopkeeper pulled forward the first young woman from the left of the front row and called out, “This young lady hails from central Xiang region. Her surname is Shan, and she is sixteen years of age. She is skilled in embroidery and needlework, as well as in growing and brewing tea. She was raised at the foot of Wuling Mountain, by the banks of the Yuan River. Her grandfather once served as magistrate of Yuanling under the jurisdiction of Chenzhou Prefecture, and her father is a scholar. Yet with many sisters in the family and her father gravely ill with no money for treatment, her family head was compelled to sell her for three measures of pearls. Thus, she is a dutiful daughter. Her starting price is one thousand silver taels.”

Miss Shan was graceful and gentle in appearance. From behind she appeared slender and delicate, with a waist that could be encircled by a single arm—surely quite lovely. Lingran could not recall her face clearly, as she had spoken little on the carriage yesterday and had not been assigned to the same room.

The shopkeeper called for bids twice, but though there was much whispering below, not a single offer was made for some time. Lingran surmised that Miss Shan’s beauty was not quite enough to compel a lavish bid, and wondered if she herself would be met with the same indifference when her turn came.

The shopkeeper called again.

Suddenly, a hoarse, elderly voice rang out: “Sir, there are ten maidens here. To sell them one by one is too much trouble. My young master sent me to ask—can we buy all ten at once for ten thousand silver taels?”

An elderly man in a plain blue robe and cloth cap was pressed forward. With a goatee and age spots mottled across his face, he was nonetheless vigorous and full of energy.

The shopkeeper, surprised that the man wished to buy all ten at once, thought it convenient—since the set price was at least a thousand taels per girl, this would satisfy his obligation perfectly. He quickly replied, “With such generosity from your master, how could we refuse? Good sir, please follow me to the back to settle the payment.”

The old man’s face lit up with joy and he was about to agree, when a voice called out from beyond the crowd. Someone leapt down from a carriage and shouted, “My general says he’ll buy all ten maidens for eleven thousand silver taels!”

The old man paused mid-step, then immediately raised a hand and called out, “We offer twelve thousand taels!”

“Twleve thousand five hundred!” the thick-browed, bright-eyed young man who had jumped from the carriage retorted without hesitation.

The old man glanced around, then raised the bid, “Fifteen thousand taels!”

The crowd erupted in a clamor, speculating wildly about the origins of these two bidders.

Lingran, on stage, craned her neck to look, but all she could determine was that the old man claimed to act on his young master’s orders. Whether the master himself was present was unclear, and the carriage’s occupants were equally mysterious—apart from the two servants, no further clues could be discerned.

Biqing gently tugged at Lingran’s sleeve. Startled, Lingran realized that all the other girls on stage had their heads lowered demurely, appearing bashful and proper. Clearly, as a modern woman in ancient times, her behavior and demeanor stood out. If she wasn’t careful, she might give herself away. She quickly flashed Biqing a bright smile, then composed herself and stood primly, reminding herself to be ever more discreet.

The young man’s brows were furrowed in frustration as he called out resolutely, “Fifteen thousand five hundred taels.”

The old man turned to look again, and this time Lingran noticed he was peering toward an inn across the street, but the lattice windows facing the road remained tightly shut, revealing nothing within. Ancient streets were much narrower than modern ones—even here, under the emperor’s very gaze, she could make out the carved patterns on the window frames across the way.

“Eighteen thousand taels!” the old man shouted, eliciting a chorus of gasps and whistles from the crowd below.

“Eighteen thousand one hundred,” the young man replied, adding only a hundred more without the slightest hesitation.

The old man’s face flushed with anger, his veins bulging as he struggled to catch his breath, unable to immediately offer a new price.

The shopkeeper, delighted by the fierce competition, grew worried that the old man might back down now, so he quickly said, “Since you’ve both bid so high, why not raise each bid by at least five hundred taels?”

“Eighteen thousand five hundred,” the young man responded calmly.

The old man drew in a breath and gritted his teeth, “Twenty thousand taels.”

It was clear the old man’s patience and composure did not match the young man’s. Yet when the price reached twenty thousand, the young man fell silent, glancing toward the carriage as if he dared not go higher without permission.

“Twenty thousand five hundred,” came a deep and resonant voice from within the carriage after a brief pause. The tone was one of quiet determination, yet it was clear the speaker was counting every coin, unwilling to spend a penny more than necessary.

Thus the bidding war continued. The old man raised the price generously each time, while the person in the carriage would add no more than five hundred taels at a time. When the old man finally called out twenty-eight thousand taels, and all expected the carriage to answer with twenty-eight thousand five hundred, a brief silence fell.

Lingran wondered, “Could it be that he’s giving up?”

“Thirty thousand taels.” After announcing this sum, the one in the carriage raised his voice, “On my master’s orders, I respectfully appeal to the young lord upstairs for consideration.”

Suddenly, a window of the teahouse across the street was thrown open. A boy dressed as a page leaned out and called loudly toward the carriage, “My young master wishes to know the distinguished gentleman’s household and, if you please, the name of your esteemed master?”

“My teacher’s surname is Liu. As for myself, I am of no great consequence, best left unmentioned. May I ask if the young master above is the one known as Little Immortal, Master Wu?”

The page relayed the message, and soon a youth of about twenty appeared at the window.

His hair was loosely gathered atop his head with three white jade hairpins, a few strands falling carelessly to frame his snow-white face, his brows fine, his eyes bright. He wore a peach-pink round-collared scholar’s robe, intricately embroidered with golden threads that shimmered faintly in the light.

Had any other man dressed so flamboyantly, he would have appeared foppish and affected. Yet this young man, with an air of carefree arrogance, seemed to intoxicate all who gazed upon him, leaving a striking impression that was anything but ordinary.

His fingers were slender and fair; with his right hand he held a slender-necked wine jug, and in his left, a white porcelain cup. With languid elegance, he poured himself a drink, then lifted the jug and laughed, “I have some idea of who you are, brother! Very well, today I’ll take you as a friend—let us drink together in good fellowship!”