The Contest of Arrows and Beauty

Seeing Li Chongwei staring pitifully at Qin An, Gu Yi gave a gentle, almost pitying pat on the man’s head.
“Don’t be afraid. General Qin isn’t angry with you. Today, the good general and I came here to enjoy the pleasures of the brothel together. Yet, the madam barred my way and instead carried the general in on eight sedan poles.

“I imagine the lady who served him wasn’t… satisfactory, so the general is a little testy tonight. Why don’t I make amends? I’ll host the evening. General Qin, why not pick another girl—on me?”

Qin An’s brows knit together, the faintest flicker of annoyance breaking his otherwise icy calm.
The madam nearly collapsed to her knees, stammering to explain, but Qin An raised a hand, stopping her.

He turned to Gu Yi.
“Your Highness,” he said coldly, “I ask that you show mercy—for once. Don’t make life harder for ordinary folk.”

Gu Yi’s lips curled upward, the ghost of a smile—soft, but dangerous.
“And if I don’t?”

“Then,” Qin An said evenly, “I will have to make Your Highness lift that hand yourself.”

The entire room tightened.

General Lan’s fingers snapped to his sword hilt, his posture a poised coil of violence.
But before he could move, Li Chongwei grabbed his arm, whispering through clenched teeth,
“Our general is speaking with your prince. We lowly subordinates should keep our heads down.”

Gu Yi chuckled. “Is that so? Well then, I’ve never once in my life been forced to do anything. Perhaps today, General Qin can show me how it’s done.”

Steel rasped from a dozen scabbards.
Tension crackled in the air like fire on dry grass.

The madam’s eyes rolled back, and she fainted dead away.

When she woke again, the grand hall of Liu Junyuan was utterly transformed.
The tables and chairs had been tossed out into the courtyard, leaving only open space and weapon racks.

Panicking, she demanded to know what had happened.
One of the serving girls explained that while she’d been unconscious, Qin An and Gu Yi had reached an agreement.

They would settle their dispute the honorable way—through a contest.

If Gu Yi won, the madam would bring out all the girls of the brothel to entertain him and his men, and Qin An would have to offer an apology.
If Qin An won, Gu Yi would withdraw immediately and never trouble the establishment again.

The venue for this duel?
Why, the brothel itself.

Upon hearing that, the madam nearly fainted a second time. She even tried to fake it—but someone promptly splashed water in her face and dragged her up.

General Lan smiled politely. “We need an impartial witness. Madam, you are the perfect choice.”

There would be three rounds, all contests of archery.

By the time the madam gathered her wits, she realized that the lavishly decorated hall had been turned into a shooting range. Targets lined every wall and pillar.

The two men stood at opposite ends of the hall, each drawing their bows in one smooth motion.

But simply shooting arrows would be far too dull—far beneath the dignity of princes and generals.

So they combined archery and acrobatics.

When Gu Yi loosed his arrow, he balanced elegantly on one leg, a perfect golden rooster stance.
When Qin An released his, he flipped backward in midair, his long coat cutting a dark arc through the lamplight.

“Did you see that? Our Crown Prince shoots with one foot and still hits the bull’s-eye!”
“Bah! Our General can somersault mid-shot and still predict the enemy’s counterattack! That’s true mastery!”

The brothel thundered with cheers.
“Go, His Highness!”
“Go, our General!”

Arrows flew like rain—hundreds of them—until the air reeked of sweat and oil and tension.
By the end, both men were panting heavily, their foreheads beaded with sweat.

The madam lifted her skirts and dashed forward, painstakingly counting the rings on each target.

One incense stick’s time passed.
The men’s subordinates were restless.

“Well? What’s the result?”

The madam turned, her face pale, lips trembling in a grimace that was meant to be a smile.
“Re… report, sirs. The scores are identical. A draw.”

“Count again!” someone barked.

She groaned, counting once more. “Still the same. A hundred times would make no difference!”

Qin An’s frown deepened. “Next round.”

This time, they raised the stakes.

From the brothel’s treasury was brought forth a priceless tapestry called the Hundred Blossoms, a one-zhang-square masterpiece embroidered with a thousand tiny flowers of every hue.

Each man took a short bow, their arrows only half a foot long—just enough to pierce silk without tearing it apart.
Qin An’s arrows were tipped in red. Gu Yi’s, in blue.

The madam’s apprentices climbed to the third floor and released the tapestry from above.

It drifted downward, graceful as falling petals.

The moment it dropped, two strings twanged in unison.
Arrows hissed through the air, slicing silver-threaded stamens in perfect lines. Each hit caused a flower to burst apart, scattering threads like pollen.

Thwip, thwip, thwip.

Blue and red arrows flashed like fireflies. The silk fluttered, perforated by hundreds of holes.

By the time the tapestry hit the floor, the priceless artwork had been reduced to a ragged sieve.

The madam whimpered as she picked it up, counting arrows one by one.
Each time she found a bloom pierced clean through, she plucked out the arrow and set it in a tray.

When she reached the end, her face turned ashen once again.

“Gentlemen… there’s a problem.”

Both men looked up.

“Which one of you does this flower belong to?”

She pointed at the far wall, where an embroidered lotus hung skewered by two arrows.
One blue. One red.

The blue—Qin An’s—had struck first.
The red—Gu Yi’s—had followed the same path so precisely that it split the shaft of the first arrow in two.

Thirty-two flowers each. Only this lotus would decide the victor.

Both sides erupted. Soldiers argued, shouting across the room. Even the courtesans upstairs leaned over the balconies to watch the chaos below.

After several moments of noise, Gu Yi simply waved his fan.
“A draw.”

The crowd quieted.

This would be the final match—the decider.
The men agreed to take it outdoors.

As they stepped into the open courtyard, a flock of migrating wild geese passed overhead, their wings glinting in the sunlight.

“Those will do.”

Both men raised their bows.

Two streaks of color—one red, one blue—shot into the sky like falling stars.
The air filled with shrill cries as the arrows found their marks.

Each downed goose had to be retrieved for the count.
To prevent cheating, both sides appointed watchers to supervise the retrievals.

Thus, shooting took a mere cup of tea’s time.
Counting the birds took nearly an entire meal.

When the piles of geese were finally laid out, Gu Yi chuckled.

“I concede,” he said lightly.

General Lan gaped. “But, Your Highness! The numbers are even!”

Gu Yi pointed to one of the carcasses.
“A double strike. One arrow passed through two birds. An impressive feat, wouldn’t you agree?”

Qin An said coolly, “A mere parlor trick, good only for impressing commoners.”

Gu Yi’s soldiers bristled.

Qin An inclined his head slightly. “Still, I didn’t expect the Crown Prince’s skill to be so refined.”

Gu Yi returned the courtesy with a bow of his own.
“Skill is one thing,” he said, smiling thinly, “but the girls of the brothel still prefer General Qin. He must be equally talented in… other disciplines.”

Qin An’s hand dropped quietly to the hilt of his black sword.

Gu Yi was just about to take his men and leave when he remembered that he’d sent Shishu and Hong Ling upstairs to look after Qiaoqiao—yet neither had returned.

He dispatched General Lan to investigate. Moments later, Lan came back, his face pale.

“Your Highness… Qiaoqiao knocked both of them unconscious and escaped through the window.”

Hong Ling, awakened and trembling, dropped to her knees before Gu Yi.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, glistening as the wind lifted her veil.

Half her face was revealed—and even that half was enough to make the entire courtyard fall silent.

Men forgot to breathe.
Even Qin An, stoic as ever, froze for a heartbeat.

Gu Yi sighed. “Once only,” he said, helping her to her feet.

Hong Ling bowed low in gratitude, but her legs gave out, and she stumbled—right into Gu Yi’s arms.

The scene was still hanging in the air when a high, shrill voice echoed from the street outside:

“Make way, make way! Eunuch Wang of the Selection Office arrives!”

The madam’s face lit up. She slapped her thigh in excitement.
“Girls! Quickly—get ready! The royal inspector’s here!”

Chaos ensued.
Dozens of courtesans burst from their rooms in a flurry of perfume and silk.

Eunuch Wang was part of the imperial concubine selection committee.

The process was peculiar: rather than asking for noble bloodlines or wealth, the Heavenly Emperor Zhuo Yuan had simply drawn a portrait and ordered his envoys to find the woman who matched it.

So the eunuchs scoured the city, searching door to door—though, naturally, they avoided disreputable places like brothels.

The madam had spent a fortune bribing them to make an exception tonight.

Now, her girls lined up in dazzling array, striking poses, pouting prettily as the two eunuchs compared each face to the painted likeness.

Occasionally, one of them sighed in disappointment. Sometimes, they wept from frustration.

The madam’s smile grew increasingly strained.

Gu Yi opened his fan and leaned lazily against a pillar.
“Well,” he murmured to Hong Ling, “since you’ll have to enter the palace eventually, why not let these gentlemen have a look? If you pass the preliminary round, entering the inner court won’t be so shameful, hmm?”

With that, he reached over and lifted her bamboo hat.

A collective gasp rippled through the brothel.
Dozens of men audibly swallowed.

Even the eunuchs froze in their tracks, eyes wide, and then—suddenly—began to sob.

It was her.

The face from the Emperor’s portrait.

The resemblance was undeniable.

Gu Yi glanced around for a chair, only to remember that they’d thrown all the furniture out earlier. Shrugging, he walked over to Qin An instead.

“Tell me, General,” he said softly, “do you think His Majesty will like the gift I’ve brought him?”

Qin An’s gaze moved to Hong Ling, assessing her as though she were a well-crafted blade or a fine horse.
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied calmly. “But it’s… a convincing resemblance.”

His tone was indifferent, his expression unreadable—
nothing like the hunger that shone in the eyes of every other man present.

Gu Yi’s fan flicked open again, stirring the air.

The eunuchs, still sniffling, rushed forward to take Hong Ling away at once. But Gu Yi stopped them, smiling politely.

“The palace is under renovation,” he said. “It would be improper to disturb His Majesty now.”

Their faces fell. Disappointed, they bowed and departed.

Gu Yi yawned, motioning for Hong Ling to put her hat back on.
He offered Qin An a courteous bow. “A fine evening, General. Let us meet again under fairer circumstances.”

As they passed one another, Qin An’s voice floated behind him—calm, detached, but razor-sharp.

“Your face-crafting technique is impressive.”

Gu Yi paused only a heartbeat before walking on.