Volume One: The Youngest Among Three Hundred Chapter Three: Peach Blossom

Chen Chang'an straightened his attire and stepped forward. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a fragrance of peach blossoms enveloped him, refreshing and intoxicating. The room was adorned with pink curtains and floral drapes, every corner suffused with the allure of a brothel.

On a couch made of peach wood, a woman sat upright. Her hair was loosely coiled, her demeanor dignified and gentle. She wore a pale pink dress, the hem deliberately shortened, exposing her slender, snow-white legs. Her eyes, deep and alluring like autumn waves, gazed tenderly at Chen Chang'an.

At that moment, Chen Chang'an was practically drooling; all those tales of fairy goddesses or moon maidens paled in comparison to the woman before him. Even after reading the Chronicles of the Perfumed Courtyard and preparing himself, he was still stunned by her beauty.

In response to Chen Chang'an's obvious infatuation, the woman merely smiled radiantly. She twisted her delicate waist and approached, bowing slightly as she spoke, "My name is Peach Blossom. Please, Master Chen, have a seat."

Sit? Until dawn? Bah! They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, so why are mine dark while my heart is yellow?

Pulling his wandering thoughts back, Chen Chang'an settled himself onto the stool and said, "Sister Peach Blossom, you must know why I am here. Now that I am trapped, I beg you to guide me out of this maze."

Peach Blossom tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and replied softly, "Of course. I summoned you here precisely for this matter."

With the gentle cadence of her native dialect, Peach Blossom rolled up her sleeves and, without hesitation, broke her delicate little finger, placing it on a blue-and-white porcelain dish, then pinched a flame from a red candle and dropped it onto the finger.

The finger ignited, sizzling as the fat burned. The sound made Chen Chang'an wince, reminiscent of boiling pig trotters during New Year festivities.

Yet Peach Blossom's beautiful cheeks showed no sign of pain; she spoke calmly, "This is neither the underworld nor the mortal realm. To help you, I must offer a sacrifice."

"Of course, this is the gift of your dual celestial fate. If you fail to win our sisters' favor in the future, you shall receive no further aid."

Peach Blossom continued her explanation.

So, after the initial benefits, everything depends on strength? Chen Chang'an mused, managing only to squeeze out a simple, "Thank you."

Meanwhile, from the flames consuming her finger, a clear image appeared—uncensored and vivid—showing Princess Changning visiting the Temple of Three Origins to fulfill her vow.

That day, after offering incense and prayers at the True Purity Hall, Princess Changning returned by sedan chair. Midway, the bearers suddenly felt the chair lighten; when they lifted the curtain, she had vanished.

This was the perspective of the person involved, matching the testimony of his father-in-law, Su Qingtang. But now, scanning it with his own consciousness, Chen Chang'an sensed something amiss.

Before entering the hall, Princess Changning lifted the sedan curtain with her left hand—a definite left-hander. Yet when she returned, she used her right hand.

That meant the person who walked out of the hall was not the real Princess Changning, but an imposter who had switched places, sitting back in the sedan to confuse everyone, only to mysteriously disappear along the way.

If Su Qingtang had discovered the princess’s disappearance right inside the hall, he would have ordered a full search, leaving the culprits nowhere to hide.

But by shifting the scene to the return journey, they easily misled everyone’s investigation.

To achieve this, two conditions were necessary. First, the substitute for Princess Changning must be skilled in disguise. Second, she must possess some ability to move through space, or else the mysterious disappearance could not be staged.

"So that's how it is!"

It wasn’t exactly a brilliant scheme; it just made his father-in-law Su Qingtang’s stupidity highlight an otherwise ordinary crime as something high-profile.

To fail to notice anything unusual at the scene—how foolish! An opening act of a blind son-in-law and a brainless father-in-law—remarkable!

Peach Blossom deftly extinguished the flame on the porcelain dish and looked up to ask, "Master Chen, do you understand?"

"I do. Thank you, Sister Peach Blossom."

Chen Chang'an nodded, beginning to plan how to break the case, though he sensed risks. The mastermind daring to target a princess surely wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

He, a blind son-in-law, could he really contend with such opponents?

Chen Chang'an rose resolutely, speaking with solemnity, "Sister Peach Blossom, I wish to ask for a treasure or a manual that could protect me."

"Also, my eyes were blinded here as a child. Is there a cure?"

Peach Blossom was surprised, but her expression soon calmed. "Master Chen, you’ve read the Chronicles of the Perfumed Courtyard. You must understand the rules here."

"As long as you win my favor and I take a liking to you, you’ll lack for nothing."

"As for your eyes, as a child you only had a single celestial fate—able to see but not qualified to enter, which led to your blindness. Now, with a dual celestial fate, visit the Perfumed Courtyard a few more times and you’ll recover naturally."

"I see!"

Chen Chang'an nodded earnestly, as if understanding something. The appearance of this dual fate likely had something to do with his transmigration.

Since healing his eyes would be gradual, he would focus on winning favors—how hard could it be? He had tamed even the most troublesome women in his past life!

Chen Chang'an raised his brows and asked knowingly, "Sister, do you like peach blossoms and poetry?"

Peach Blossom followed the topic naturally, her lips parting, "Yes."

"Nice!"

Making an OK gesture with his middle finger raised, Chen Chang'an picked up the brush, poised himself confidently, and said, "If that's the case, it’ll be hard not to win your favor!"

Watching his confident demeanor, Peach Blossom was curious about his method.

He dipped the brush generously in ink, writing with fluid strokes, recreating the famous poem by Tang poet Cui Hu—inscribed on the wall, but renamed: Dedicated to Peach Blossom.

Last year, on this very day, within this gate,
The face and peach blossoms reflected each other in red.
The face is nowhere to be found,
Yet the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze.

Peach Blossom’s luminous eyes focused on the four lines. Her pupils contracted, then expanded, then turned hollow. Finally, her beautiful eyes filled with shock and a sense of poignant sorrow.

In a thousand years, she had leafed through countless poetry collections, confident in her literary repertoire. Yet none compared to this verse, whose few lines pierced the soul and stirred emotions so deeply she could not help but shed tears.

Chen Chang'an, finishing his writing, observed Peach Blossom’s expression—full of awe and admiration. He knew he had gambled correctly; few courtesans could resist true talent.

Girls in ancient times were simple; winning their hearts was easy. Unlike the women of the twenty-first century—ah, if you don’t send a “520” red packet on 520, break up!

Where are my winter staples? Everyone else gets sweet potatoes, chestnuts, hot milk tea. Why don’t I have them? Jerk—break up. Brother, brother, buy me a cotton coat. Whoever buys it, I’ll go with them. If you don’t, break up!

They even made demands for each calendar event—first hotpot on the winter solstice, first milk tea in autumn, transfer 610 for Children’s Day because she’s always a baby. Arrange it, or break up!

For all those things, Chen Chang'an just wanted to say—save them all. On Qingming, I’ll burn them for you, principal and interest!

From this perspective, transmigrating wasn’t such a bad thing. Spend the least, love the purest girls.

Quite satisfying. In the future, he could rely on classic poetry both for flair and for romance. Organizing his thoughts, Chen Chang'an asked with concern, "Sister Peach Blossom, what do you think of this poem?"

Peach Blossom was still sobbing, paying no mind to her ruined makeup. She excitedly grabbed Chen Chang'an’s sleeve, "Is…is this poem for me? Is it really for me?"

Even a fool knew how to answer, let alone Chen Chang'an. He nodded, speaking clearly, "Yes, it’s for you, Sister Peach Blossom."

"What a wonderful poem! Master Chen, your talent is extraordinary!" Peach Blossom’s clear eyes sparkled with delight and joy.

"Just a little demonstration!"

Chen Chang'an tapped his toe, feigning indifference but with a hint of solemnity, "Since that's so, I wonder if you could…"

Peach Blossom’s eyes were red, her emotions settling after a while. She responded to his tentative request with a bright smile, reaching into the air and plucking a vibrant green bamboo slip from the void.

Handing it to Chen Chang'an, she explained, "This bamboo slip was originally the frame of a paper fan belonging to an Immortal Emperor a thousand years ago. Each of us seven sisters owns one piece. Mine records the first level secret of the Flying Sword Technique for slaying immortals. I now give it to you!"

"Flying Sword Technique, slaying immortals…"