The splendor of the Red Chamber, the power that reigns supreme.

Chapter 98 The Assistance to Climbing Upwards
"Salt Inspector... Lin Ruhai... Rongguo Mansion..." Was this Lord Lin simply stopping at a post station in Qinghe as a routine stop? Or was there a deeper meaning behind it? In any case, this was an encounter that could not be taken lightly, and a test that required utmost caution.

The official picked up his teacup and drank the lukewarm tea in one gulp. His mind raced with thoughts: what kind of ceremony should be set for the welcoming banquet, one that would show the respect of the Qinghe gentry without appearing to be deliberately obsequious...

While the high-ranking official sat comfortably here, the scene inside the Wang Zhaoxuan Mansion, home to the top officials and nobles of Qinghe County, was quite different.

Qinghe County may be small, but it is a place where hidden talents abound! Many powerful eunuchs and officials who have retired from the capital and still retain their dignity love to choose this wealthy and gentle suburban county under the emperor's nose to retire.

In terms of status alone, if you count on your fingers, the most prestigious family is still the Wang Zhaoxuan family! Even though they may not look as imposing as they used to be, a lean camel is still bigger than a horse.

The matriarch of the household, Madam Lin, also holds the title of a third-rank imperial lady! This title was officially registered by the Ministry of Rites, stamped with a bright seal, and issued with a dragon-patterned imperial edict. It was a genuine and respectable title for a lady of the imperial court, and there was no room for faking it.

The mere presence of this "Imperial Decree Plaque" was enough to intimidate all the officials, gentry, and wealthy people in Qinghe County. They would immediately soften their stance and treat the Wang family with utmost respect.

Although she was in such a sorry state, Madam Lin's title of third-rank imperial consort was still a valuable asset, not only in Qinghe County but also in the elite circles of the capital.

At this moment, Madam Lin sat upright in the hall.

Her hair was piled high in a black bun, adorned with a golden phoenix hairpin. Because of her anxiety and unease, the bun had loosened slightly, and a few strands of her dark hair clung to her delicate, pink neck, adding to her languid charm. She wore a dark-colored silk jacket with a front opening, and a light green satin skirt covered in gold floral patterns.

This woman was over thirty, yet she was remarkably well-preserved. Her entire body was white and fleshy, soft and fluffy, like freshly steamed white dough. Her chest bulged against her blouse, and although her waist was not slender, it was round and plump. Sitting there, the hem of her skirt revealed a full curve, truly a ripe, juicy fruit from a brothel.

At this moment, her face was frosty, and her almond-shaped eyes glared at her son Wang Sanguan, who was kneeling on the ground. Her eyes were filled with both hatred and pain, but the loud cursing outside pierced her ears, making her heart and lungs feel as if they were being fried in oil.

Wang Sanguan, dressed only in a plain white robe, knelt on the cold gold brick floor, head bowed, his body trembling like a leaf. He was no longer the young master who used to frequent brothels.
"Wang San'er! You cowardly bastard! You stole Brother Ying's money for your coffin to go whore with your whore!"

"The Wang family, old dogs and young puppies, are all scoundrels! Stealing chickens and dogs, having affairs and keeping lovers, they do all sorts of shameless things!"

"What a fine seed the Prince raised! He stole Brother Ying's treasure and pawned it to pay for that hole's yellow wine!"

Outside the gate, a group of ruffians and scoundrels, numbering more than a dozen, appeared out of nowhere. Each of them was bare-chested, spitting as they spewed vulgarities, their filthy words pouring down like a torrent of dirty water onto the deep courtyard.

Even worse, some people would smash rotten vegetable leaves and rotten eggs on the vermilion gate and white wall, leaving stains everywhere.

The insults came in waves, each more varied and vicious than the last, deliberately choosing the most shameful and sordid things to fabricate, as if they wanted to dig up the Wang family's ancestors for eight generations and humiliate them.

Mrs. Lin was furious. What had she been working so hard for? It was all to maintain the meager dignity of her ancestral Prince's mansion, now in its decline. To be cursed like this by a group of hooligans at the door was worse than death. If it weren't for her own physical vulnerability, she would have hanged herself right there in the hall.

A messenger was immediately dispatched to report to the yamen. Before long, several yamen runners dressed in black robes and red and black hats arrived, carrying fire and water sticks and chains, shouting and yelling. "You scoundrels! Are you courting death? Roaring at an innocent woman in broad daylight! Get out of here!"

The head constable shouted in a show of bravado. Seeing the officials arrive, the group of hooligans quieted down slightly, but weren't particularly afraid. They simply smirked and took a few steps back, muttering incoherently, "Oh, the officials are here? We're just acting on behalf of Heaven, scolding these good-for-nothing playboys who steal, drink and gamble, and squander their family fortunes..."

The head constable gave a signal, and several of his men pretended to rush over, brandishing their sticks a few times and symbolically pushing and shoving them away.

The action was so perfunctory, it was more like a greeting between acquaintances. In the chaos, they only haphazardly grabbed two of the slowest-running, the most unfamiliar and poor-looking hooligans, shouting, "We've taken the two ringleaders, go back and report! If you dare to make a sound again, you'll be in for a beating!" and then made to leave.

These officials, seeing that it was Earl Ying, knew that every one of them had received favors from Master Ximen, having been treated to drinks and money by him. Their very bones were soaked with silver!

Today's scheme involves a few familiar faces, and upon hearing that they're connected to Ying Bojue, the sworn brother of Master Ximen, who would actually put in their best effort? It's just a formality, a show, to fool others.

Even if they pretended to capture two rascals, the moment they entered the yamen, the fat yamen runner would seize the opportunity and sneak back.

He patted one of the ruffians on the head and said in a low voice, "You two rascals! The foreman said he couldn't refuse out of courtesy, so he had no choice but to take you two back to check in and make do." "You two must remember this well: find some unfamiliar faces to fill in, don't make things difficult for us! Two shifts a day is the best way. If we're short-handed for a while, we can 'borrow' a few ruffians from the nearby prefecture to fill in, that'll do too. Since you've taken on this job for Second Master, you need to pay attention. Do I need to teach you?"

After the fat constable finished speaking, he gave a knowing look and then swayed away.

Right outside the gate, with a whoosh, another group of rascals gathered! This group was clearly seasoned veterans, and their actions were even more "organized".

The leader was a lean man who clattered two shiny bamboo clappers in his hands, and it seemed he had already prepared a set of lyrics! With a wave of his hand, the ruffians joined in the rhythm and began to sing in unison, their voices shrill and piercing, straight to the ears:

"Wang Sanguan'er—(Crackling! Crackling!) Black smoke is billowing from his ancestral grave! He's squandered all his money on prostitution, and his own mother is keeping a lover and stealing money!"

"Mrs. Lin—(Crack! Crack!) What a shrew! Her white flesh is like a dumpling, she pays men to raise her cuckold, changes grooms every night, and smiles with a green turban on her head!"

"Wang Sanguan'er—(crack! crack!) A born bastard! Stealing people, stealing money, stealing from ancestors, karma crawled out of his own mother's crotch!"
"Mrs. Lin—(Crack! Crack!) That old saddle under Hanzi Qing's crotch! Licking his ass and fawning over him, raising a thief who's a cigarette smother!"

These newly composed lyrics are both venomous and cunning, rhyming and catchy, each line like a poisoned dagger, specifically designed to stab Mrs. Lin in the heart! When they sang the most cunning and sarcastic parts, the ruffians winked and laughed, banging their bamboo clappers loudly, wishing they could spread the Wang family's shameful deeds throughout Qinghe County!

Inside the house, Mrs. Lin initially tried to maintain the airs of a mistress, her face taut, her chest heaving with anger, her plump body trembling slightly, her fingers digging into the tender flesh of her palms, leaving deep red marks.

If I had known it would turn out like this, I would have preferred not to have driven them away at all. At least we got used to the previous batch's scathing insults. Now, look what happened, a new batch has come.

Her heart burned with rage, and she wanted nothing more than to tear those vile people outside the door apart! But when the newly composed aria, which named and shamed her, smeared her reputation and violated her body, pierced her ears like a venomous snake's tongue, each word clear and each sentence stabbing at her heart...

Her face, which had been taut and full-moon-like with anger, suddenly lost all color, turning ashen white.

An indescribable sense of shame, despair, and immense humiliation, as if she had been stripped naked in public, surged to her head. Tears, large as beans, could no longer be held back and streamed down her pale cheeks like broken beads.

Tears rolled down her full chin, dripping onto the soft, snowy flesh of her chest, soaking a small patch of her silk dress. She abruptly turned her face away, not wanting her kneeling son to see her in this disheveled state, but her shoulders heaved uncontrollably, and a broken sob escaped her throat.

Those scathing insults, like poisoned needles, pierced Mrs. Lin's entire body. She could no longer sit still, and ignoring her son Wang Sanguan who was still trembling on the ground, she suddenly stood up, her plump body swaying slightly. Disregarding her manners, she covered her ears with one hand and lifted her skirt with the other, stumbling and running towards her innermost bedroom.

With a loud bang, she slammed the door shut behind her, as if trying to shut out all the world's foul language. Leaning against the cold door, she gasped for breath, her chest heaving violently.

Although the hooligans outside were far away, their shouts still echoed in her mind, especially the phrase "a body full of white flesh, dominated by men," which burned her heart like a branding iron.

"Where would I get a man to occupy me? If only I did!" She staggered to the dressing table, where the polished bronze mirror clearly reflected a charming face that was both lost and still beautiful.

Mrs. Lin trembled as she extended her slender, delicate fingers, with an almost self-destructive pity, and gently stroked her cold cheek.

The physical humiliation was secondary; what was truly heartbreaking was the impending decline of the mansion. She looked around the once incomparably luxurious bedroom:
The brocade curtains on the canopy bed were faded, and the gilded incense burner on the table had not been used to burn expensive incense cakes for a long time, leaving only the lingering smell of inferior sandalwood.

Mrs. Lin leaned against the kang (a heated brick bed), her fingers unconsciously twirling the cuffs of the gold-embroidered blouse she was wearing—the gold thread had become somewhat dull, and the edges of the sleeves were frayed.

Her heart clenched: she hadn't changed this most presentable outfit she ever wore for receiving guests for almost half a month! How magnificent she must have been when she, a third-rank noblewoman, dressed in her full regalia according to her rank?
Now...sigh, there are still a few good pieces of old fabric in the trunk, but the cost of hiring a tailor, buying linings, and making gold and silver buttons...she sighed inwardly, her fingertips turning cold.

Not to mention the rouge and face powder! The mother-of-pearl inlaid makeup box on the dressing table is still shiny, but what's inside the box?
The rouge used by the emperor had long since run out, leaving only dried residue; the official powder box was mostly empty, revealing its bare porcelain bottom; even the rose dew from overseas had only a shallow bottom left, its fragrance so faint as to be undetectable.

It wasn't that she didn't want to use it, but that she simply couldn't afford it! The dignity of this third-rank official was now being choked by the cost of a few taels of silver for rouge.

(End of this chapter)