By the time Qiu Qianfan's sedan chair arrived at the entrance of Spring Wind Pavilion, the street outside had already lost all pretense of order.
People were everywhere.
Not the usual loose gathering of drinkers and patrons, but a full-on human flood—official robes rubbing shoulders with merchant silks, wealthy householders squeezing in beside clerks and craftsmen. Even well-off commoners who normally wouldn't dare set foot near such a place were craning their necks, standing on tiptoe, desperately trying to glimpse whatever spectacle had dragged half the city out into the street.
Qiu Qianfan nearly collided with someone the moment he stepped down.
"What on earth is going on?" he muttered.
He grabbed a passerby by the sleeve. "Why is it so crowded here?"
The man turned, eyes shining. "Prefect Qiu, you didn't know? Tonight is Miss Cailin's debut performance!"
"…Debut performance?"
"Yes! Her first concert!"
The word sounded unfamiliar, but the tone made it clear: whatever it was, it was important.
Miss Cailin.
Qiu Qianfan recognized the name immediately.
Spring Wind Pavilion's current crown jewel. The woman who had taken Puzhou by storm with that scandalously catchy tune—Lovelovelove—the one that had merchants humming under their breath and magistrates pretending they didn't know the lyrics.
Her real name, of course, was something else entirely. "Cailin" was a stage name.
Coined by Lao Nanfeng.
So was the word concert, for that matter.
Ever since Li Daoxuan had shown him those strange "short videos," Lao Nanfeng had become a man possessed by ideas no one else fully understood.
And this—this chaos—was the result.
Outside the pavilion, an enormous stage had been erected on the open ground.
Not a flimsy opera platform, but something audacious—broad, elevated, framed with carved beams and hung with rows upon rows of colorful glass lamps. When night fell, the entire street glowed as if someone had spilled starlight across the ground.
Benches had been arranged in wide circles around the stage, layer upon layer.
A thousand seats.
Every single one filled.
And beyond them, pressed up against wooden railings, were the unlucky masses who hadn't managed to buy tickets in time.
Admission cost one hundred copper coins.
For officials and merchants, that was pocket change.
For Gao Family Village workers? Also manageable.
Which was precisely why the place was packed to bursting.
Qiu Qianfan took a slow breath.
This… is no small affair.
He did a quick calculation in his head.
One hundred copper coins per seat. A thousand seats.
That was already a hundred taels of silver—earned in a single evening.
And Lao Nanfeng had barely begun.
Somewhere in the crowd, Lao Nanfeng himself was practically vibrating with excitement.
"Hahahahaha!" he cackled, clapping along as people poured in. "At last! At last! I've brought the Dao Xuan Tianzun's Flower World into the mortal realm!"
A militia soldier elbowed his way over and leaned in. "Brother Nanfeng, it's about time. Aren't you going on stage to say a few words?"
Lao Nanfeng's face darkened instantly. "Say what? Curse at them? Scold them? I open my mouth and the mood dies. Let the madam handle it."
"You're the sponsor."
"That's even more reason not to speak."
Unfortunately, the decision had already been made without him.
Under the gaze of the entire audience, the Spring Wind Pavilion's madam ascended the stage.
She was in her thirties, her beauty polished by experience rather than youth, and she wielded a tin megaphone like a general commanding troops.
"Honored guests!" she called out, her voice ringing clear. "Thank you all for coming tonight! This is Miss Cailin's first concert, where she will perform the songs that have captured Puzhou's hearts these past days! I promise—you will leave satisfied!"
A wave of excited murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"And tonight's event," the madam continued smoothly, "has been generously sponsored by General Nan, a trusted commander under General Xing Honglang! Let us invite General Nan to say a few words!"
Somewhere below the stage, Lao Nanfeng swore.
"…Damn it."
Before he could escape, hands shoved him forward.
Boos and cheers mixed together as he stumbled onto the stage, the crowd instantly recognizing him.
Flatt Rabbit voice was the loudest of all. "Say something nice, General Nan!"
Lao Nanfeng shot him a murderous glare and silently promised retribution later.
He cleared his throat.
"Well… ah…" He scratched his head, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I don't know how to talk pretty. I only know one thing—"
He spread his arms wide.
"Have fun! Make as much noise as you want! The louder you are, the happier I am!"
The crowd roared.
That was enough for him.
Lao Nanfeng fled the stage as if pursued by ghosts.
Then—
Miss Cailin appeared.
The moment she stepped into the light, the noise softened into a hush.
She didn't waste a heartbeat.
The opening notes of Lovelovelove flowed out, bright and teasing, her voice weaving through the crowd like silk. She sang with an ease that felt intimate, as if she were smiling directly at each listener.
The effect was immediate.
Officials leaned forward.
Merchants forgot to breathe.
Young men clutched their chests like they'd been struck.
Qiu Qianfan, however, scowled.
Gnawing on a roasted chicken leg he'd had sent over earlier, he shouted, "This official didn't come here for this song! Where's Koi Transcription?!"
Fortunately for him, Koi Transcription followed soon after.
His mood improved instantly.
Then came Ode to Yu, which left the wealthy merchants staring blankly, their souls seemingly drifting several inches above their bodies.
At the end of each song, silver flew.
Tael ingots clanged against the stage.
Loose silver scattered like rain.
Someone even tossed a few gold pellets, which bounced and rolled among the others.
A militia soldier gaped. "Brother Nanfeng… you're going to be rich."
Lao Nanfeng didn't even look. He waved dismissively. "Listen to the song. Don't insult it by staring at money."
That was when a furious shout tore through the edge of the crowd.
"What are you doing here?!"
Xing Honglang stormed in, eyes blazing, her presence alone parting the masses.
Her gaze locked onto Lao Nanfeng.
"You—! What kind of nonsense are you pulling?!"
Lao Nanfeng jumped. "I—! I'm not breaking discipline!"
Before he could finish, Xing Honglang froze.
Because right beside him stood Li Daoxuan.
Dao Xuan Tianzun himself.
He wasn't standing aloof or stern.
He was swaying.
Actually swaying.
Moving with the rhythm, relaxed, amused, very much enjoying himself.
Xing Honglang's anger evaporated into cold sweat.
"Dao… Dao Xuan Tianzun?" she said carefully.
Li Daoxuan smiled. "Quite lively, isn't it?"
"…But," Xing Honglang ventured, "isn't this a brothel? Lao Nanfeng spending money here—"
Li Daoxuan waved his hand. "Indulging in debauchery is forbidden. Singing and dancing for public enjoyment is not. From today on, these women sell talent, not themselves."
Xing Honglang fell silent.
At that moment, the music shifted.
The gentle tune gave way to pounding drums.
Miss Cailin disappeared backstage—and returned transformed.
Armor.
A spear.
The stance of a warrior maiden.
She sang Treading the Mountains and Rivers, her voice sharp and soaring.
Xing Honglang's eyes lit up. "This song—!"
"Good, right?" Lao Nanfeng laughed.
She didn't hesitate.
A tael of silver flew onto the stage.
Then she sang along—
Completely off-key.
The crowd exploded into applause anyway.
And under the lights, amid song, laughter, and silver rain, Puzhou's night burned brighter than ever.