They continued in this way, both playing a believable game while discreetly trying to lose a point. Their moves were growing more limited, and Wang Jun quickly realized he’d run out of proper opportunities. He couldn’t make any big mistakes—that would be too obvious. Therefore, he started a ko fight and began making threats in dubious-looking areas. To others, it would look like she had to defend. They both knew she didn’t, but defend she did.
Wang Jun’s frustration mounted. He didn’t want to win a thrown game, but he didn’t want to throw a game too obviously. This game was less a fight between two expert players than a fight between his personal pride and the face he showed to others. They had ten real moves remaining, but he sweated as he placed stone after stone, agonizing over the decision.
Damn it all, he thought. I refuse to be toyed with. With three moves remaining, he finally spotted an opportunity. Before the stone could fall, however, Bai Ling did something he hadn’t expected.
“I concede,” the woman said. “Thank you so much for playing such an exciting game with me. You didn’t disappoint.”
He’d been duped. This whole time he’d been trying to play within the bounds of the game, but he’d failed to realize she had a way out. She could end the game at any time she chose. “You let me win,” he said with a wry chuckle.
“Nonsense,” Bai Ling said. Then, she looked up toward the second floor, which had previously been unoccupied. A lady in red now stood alone on a balcony above them. “Ahem. It seems our headmistress has requested a personal audience with Young Master Wang. She says she was impressed by your performance and would be happy to make your acquaintance.” The crowd had already dispersed, and through some strange technique, Bai Ling had sent these words to his ears alone.
Wang Jun looked up to Protector Ren and Wang Tong, who were discussing wine vintages, of all things, then back to Bai Ling. “I’d love to make her acquaintance.”
“Then please follow me,” Bai Ling said.
She took his hand and walked over to a marble staircase he hadn’t noticed before. The staircase, which evidently led up to the second floor, was made from the purest black stone etched in red runic lines. “No one can scale these steps without the headmistress’s permission. Just head up the stairs and walk over to her balcony.”
Wang Jun nodded and took his first cautious step. The runes shimmered, revealing countless specks of red light around him that quickly dispersed. He took another, and the specks reappeared. As he began climbing the steps at a normal pace, he realized that the lights resembled a fine red dust. The symbolism was apt—in this house, more than anywhere else in the city, temptations of the mortal world haunted one’s every footstep. Trying to rid oneself of every speck was a futile struggle that only fools and buddhas undertook.
The red dust faded as he entered the second floor. A red-crystal chandelier in the center of the vast three-floor chamber cast alternating lights and shadows on the floor’s pristine alabaster surface; it was a show only he could properly appreciate, as the shadows seemed livelier to him than their bewitching red counterparts.
A short figure dressed in red and gold grew closer and closer as he walked, and he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. He mocked himself inwardly. In the Red Dust Pavilion, you could never trust your feelings. Therefore, he ignored his rushing blood and the fierce pounding of his heart as he walked up beside the alluring woman whose face he hadn’t yet seen.
She turned toward him and smiled lightly. His heart caught in his throat for a moment as he was overwhelmed with inexplicable familiarity—only to breathe normally once he realized that she was a complete stranger. Assuming that was her real face, of course. The headmistress of the Red Dust Pavilion was beautiful beyond compare, but he could see faint red and blue runes dancing on the white paint that covered her adorable cheeks.
“Well met, young master,” the woman said. She curtsied slightly. “This headmistress is pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I’ve heard so much about you, and your show down there took my breath away.”
“She let me win,” Wang Jun said.
“Didn’t you try to do the same?” the headmistress asked, causing Wang Jun to raise an eyebrow. “It’s the end result that matters, and if she says you win and can convince everyone else, win you did. You should be happy; she doesn’t let everyone win.”
Wang Jun coughed awkwardly. “You’re… different than I imagined,” he said finally.
“So straightforward,” the headmistress said. “What did you expect? A cold, bloodthirsty owner of a body house that ruled with an iron fist?”
“Never,” Wang Jun said. “I just expected you to be older.”
The headmistress chuckled. “A woman always loves to be called younger, but in my case it’s the truth. In fact, I’m about as old as you are, if you’ll believe it.”
“I’ll take your word on it, though you don’t look a lick past twenty,” Wang Jun said. “I notice this place is packed, despite the steep admission price.”
“Pricing is an art,” the headmistress said. “And we have nothing but satisfied customers. For example, do you regret paying what you did?”
Wang Jun thought for a moment. “I suppose I don’t. Just that game alone was worth it.”
“Then you’ve already made a tidy profit this visit,” the headmistress said. “I hear that’s important in your family, to the point that everything else is meaningless. But back to admission and satisfaction. The truth is that our performances are both effective and addicting. They just
