
Tuan Muda, Putera Raja adalah Pelayan Rumah Pelacuran
Lorraine Whitcombe
Introduction
"Abang, bukankah abang bisu?"
"......"
"Abang, abang nak jadi raja ke?"
"......"
"Abang......"
"Aku bukan abang kau."
"Aku tahu. Teh putih yang tenang tanpa perkara lain, aku menunggu angin dan juga menunggu kau."
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About Author
Lorraine Whitcombe
Chapter 1
“Sesekali hati terasa terikat, di tepi pokok bunga plum, seperti bunga-bunga dan rumput-rumput ini yang dicintai orang, hidup dan mati mengikuti keluhan orang, namun tetap sunyi dan tiada siapa yang mengingat, menunggu hingga roh harum berkumpul, menjaga musim hujan plum.” Suara nyanyian yang merdu dan lembut, menyanyikan kesedihan yang sepi, mendendangkan perpisahan di akhir lagu, lengan panjang baju mengalir, tubuh anggun yang memikat hati.
“Walau tarian Cik Snow Yi ini bagus, aku sudah bosan melihatnya. Dengar-dengar...” Seorang pemuda berpakaian mewah meneguk segelas arak, sudah tampak mabuk, terhuyung-huyung beberapa langkah, hampir jatuh ke atas ibu rumah.
“Bolehkah aku melihat bintang utama di Ting Xuan ini?”
Ibu rumah tersenyum manis, menolak dia dengan lembut, sambil bergurau, “Encik Yu ingin bertemu dengan Encik Yulan?” Sambil menutup muka dengan senyuman, dia menggerakkan lima jarinya di depan mata pemuda itu.
“Lima ribu tahil perak salji masuk ke dalam peti simpanan Ting Xuan, barulah boleh masuk. Tambah seribu tahil lagi, boleh bermalam.”
Wajah pemuda berpakaian mewah itu berubah pucat, orang di sekeliling mula bersorak dan mengusik, akhirnya dia tidak dapat menahan malu, memanggil seorang pelayan kecil, berbisik beberapa patah kata.
Ting Xuan adalah rumah tarian dan nyanyian paling terkenal di Jinzhou, harganya yang tinggi membuat ramai anak orang kaya berfikir dua kali. Ibu rumah melihat enam kotak besar dibawa masuk ke halaman belakang, barulah dia tersenyum lebar dan membawa pemuda berpakaian mewah itu ke halaman dalam.
Halaman dalam dihias sederhana, Yu Jian mengikut arahan melalui beberapa selekoh hingga ke hujung koridor panjang, membuka pintu, aroma harum menyelubungi, tirai sutera melambai-lambai, samar-samar menampakkan bayangan di belakangnya. Yu Jian melangkah perlahan, dari belakang tirai keluar sebuah tangan, kulitnya putih seperti salji, lembut seperti sutera, saat itu sedang melambai kepadanya.
Asap semakin tebal, Yu Jian terasa pening, jatuh ke atas katil, orang di belakang tirai turun dari katil, membetulkan pakaian, memanggil dari tepi tingkap, “Dogol, hari ini kau bakar apa? Bau pakaian bunga pir aku sudah rosak oleh asapmu!”
Belum sempat habis cakap, sebiji bola salji terbang masuk dari tingkap, tepat mengenai mukanya.
Terdengar bunyi langkah di luar, bibirnya tersenyum, dari belakang pintu muncul wajah kecil yang kotor, mencebik, “Yiyi, aku dah kata jangan panggil aku Dogol!”
Wajah lelaki itu berubah, berjalan menghampiri dan menendang dia dengan kuat, “Budak ni, panggil Yiyi dengan begitu mesra! Aku tanya kau, ubat kau ni ada kurang barang, masih boleh buat ke?”
Dogol menggosok punggungnya, menjeling, “Tenang, ubat yang aku buat kau tak perlu risau! Bila dia bangun nanti, pasti akan ada ingatan memelukmu dalam keadaan mabuk.”
Lelaki itu menarik nafas lega, tetapi mendengar nada tidak baik dari Dogol, dia menepuk kepala budak itu dan bertanya, “Dogol, kenapa macam makan ubat marah, ada orang buli kau?”
Dogol menggosok bahunya, “Abang Yi, di luar ada orang kata kau ini hamba rendah.” Sambil bercakap, tangannya ditangkap, lelaki itu dengan senyuman jahat mengambil beg duit dari tangannya, berkata perlahan, “Kalau patut terima, terimalah, apa orang kata aku tak kisah, tapi Dogol, kalau kurang duit pergilah cari ibu rumah, jangan diam-diam nak ambil dari aku.”
Selepas itu dia melepaskan budak itu, memberi pesan, “Baik, aku nak pergi ke rumah Encik Yu, kau jaga dia baik-baik, nanti aku balik belikan gula-gula untuk kau.”
Baru hendak berpaling pergi, terdengar Dogol berkata perlahan, “Baru tadi nampak anak Encik Xiao di luar...”
Lelaki itu tergelincir, hampir jatuh, cepat-cepat hendak pergi, tapi terdengar bunyi pintu ditendang, seorang lelaki berpakaian putih berdiri di depan pintu, bajunya berkibar, hanya berdiri di situ, memandang tenang ke dalam bilik.
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About Author
Lorraine Whitcombe
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