Word had spread through the capital: a new, stunning qingguan at Linhua Pavilion was to be shugonged tonight, attracting throngs of pleasure-seekers eager to be the first.
The madam stood at the gate with a few clever, eloquent women, greeting the crowd with an uncontainable grin.
“You ladies take good care of the guests. I’ll go hurry Girl Hong,” the madam said, hurrying up to the second floor with two burly guards raised in the courtyard.
Girls from good families often faltered when it came to their deflowering—fear, regret, stage fright. Even if determined to work in this trade, their first time in such a public spectacle could be nerve-wracking. The madam needed to keep her close and under control. The two guards were just in case things got messy.
But as she reached the stairs, she found the Hong Girl already standing neatly by the balcony railing—dressed properly, veiled, with a begonia jewel flower between her fingers.
The madam had never seen such a cooperative newcomer before and was inwardly delighted. She waved off the brawny men and stepped forward, saying, “Good girl, you must look carefully—don’t just go for the young and pretty ones. Pick a patron who has both wealth and the willingness to spend. It’s even better if he holds office and power.” As she spoke, she subtly pointed to a few richly dressed guests in the crowd below, indicating that she should choose from among them.
Little Hong seemed not to hear her. Above the veil, her beautiful eyes carried a chilling edge. Her gaze swept over the crowd and landed on the entrance, as if the one she was waiting for had yet to appear.
The madam knew she was a cold one and that saying more would be as good as farting, so she compromised. “Fine. We’ll wait another quarter hour. But after that, the show must start. If the guests get impatient and cause a scene, it won’t be pretty.”
She turned and descended the stairs to soothe the crowd and stir up the mood a bit more.
Someone called out, “Madam Ruan is here!”
The crowd turned to look. Two maids walked ahead with lanterns, lighting the way for a graceful beauty who entered swaying gently. She wore a white silk cross-collared jacket, a gold-embroidered skirt with turquoise accents, her cloud-like hair loosely tied with half-fallen phoenix hairpins—under the moonlight, she looked like a goddess reluctantly rising from her spring slumber. Who else could it be but the famed courtesan of the capital, Ruan Hongjiao?
The madam stepped forward to greet her. “Good sister, thank you for coming and giving me face.”
Ruan Hongjiao returned the greeting and then smiled at the surrounding guests. “Why are you all staring at me? I’m just here to show support, not to steal the spotlight. Look upstairs at the new beauty! Whichever gentleman becomes her first patron tonight, I’ll treat him to drinks and songs at my place another day.”
Her words once again drew everyone’s eyes to the second floor. The crowd roared with excitement, clamoring for the show to begin.
But Little Hong still made no move. She held the jeweled flower between her fingers but refused to throw it. The madam was nearly stomping in frustration, swearing to herself: D*mn girl, what are you waiting for—the Jade Emperor to descend in person?!
Just as she was about to go back upstairs to push things along, a young scholar stepped through the door. He was elegant, refined, with a natural air of charm. The madam, seasoned as she was, couldn’t help silently praising: What a man!
Ruan Hongjiao walked toward the scholar and said to the madam, “This is Young Master Su. He’s quite taken with your girl. I hope you’ll do us the favor.”
Su Yan waved his hands repeatedly, laughing awkwardly. “I’m just a poor scholar here to enjoy the spectacle, that’s all.”
The madam’s interest faded as soon as she heard he had no money. She turned back and saw Little Hong staring fixedly at the young man. Her heart sank: This is bad! The girl likes pretty faces—if she insists on giving herself to him, it’ll be a complete loss! At once, she deliberately stepped in front of Su Yan, blocking Little Hong’s line of sight, determined not to let her throw the flower at him.
On the second-floor veranda, Little Hong gripped the jeweled flower in one hand and nearly crushed the railing with the other.
His target tonight had been Fuyin.
Last time, upon discovering the Blood Lotus mark in a dark alley, they had followed Fuyin into this very Linhua Pavilion. But by the time they arrived, the person had vanished. Suspecting secret passages or mechanisms, they disguised themself as a fallen noblewoman and sold themself into the brothel, hoping to search the place thoroughly. Yet they found nothing.
This morning, the Blood Lotus mark had reappeared. He guessed Fuyin would come again tonight and had agreed to the madam’s request, planning to throw the jeweled flower when Fuyin entered with the crowd. That way, Fuyin would be the center of attention and unable to slip away. He’d likely go along with the act and accompany “Wan Hongxiao” to her chamber, where he could subdue “her” in private and then sneak away to track down any contacts.
Who would’ve thought Su Yan would show up too? What’s he doing here—really trying to be a first-night patron?
—No jealousy. No anger. Whether Lord Su is here for fun or to take a wife, as his guard, I have no right to interfere. The mission comes first. Tonight, he doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him. A proper assassin sees only the target—not the irrelevant.
He repeated this to himself several times, convinced he had his emotions under control. But then, down below, that seductive courtesan actually clung to Lord Su’s arm, whispering and giggling into his ear—and the always-principled Lord didn’t push her away. Instead, he flirted back!
Little Hong suddenly tore off her veil and gave his lord (and the vixen by his side) a cold smile that looked like it could kill.
The brothel erupted in excitement:
“Definitely a beauty!”
“Such a cold, fierce aura—she’s truly one of a kind.”
“Wan Hongxiao, with a soul of ice and snow—sure to be a top courtesan.”
“Looks like another leading lady has arrived in the capital.”
“She’s beautiful, but that makeup is awfully thick. Something about it feels… off.”
That dissenting voice was quickly drowned out by others.
“You want a bare face? Go home and watch your wife wash up! Courtesans wear heavy makeup for charm—who cares how much powder they use, as long as they’re beautiful.”
Su Yan was also watching—and instantly recognized the “beauty” upstairs.
Wasn’t that his own guard, Jinghong Zhui?
This guy’s addicted to cross-dressing now? Truly, with women’s clothes, it’s either zero times or infinite times… Su Yan wiped his face, half amused, half exasperated. Whoever ends up as Wan Hongxiao’s “lucky patron” tonight, it won’t be a night of pleasure, but a night of doom—with a blade to the heart!
What is Ah Zhui planning? Su Yan recalled he had mentioned the brothel was strange, that he had lost Fuyin here last time. With all this drama tonight, he must be plotting something clever. Best not to blow his cover—I’ll pretend I didn’t recognize him.
With that thought, Su Yan turned his gaze away and said to Ruan Hongjiao, “I thought she’d be stunning, but she’s just average. Not as beautiful as you.”
Ruan Hongjiao was pleased. She covered her mouth with her sleeve and giggled. “Looks like young master isn’t into that type. No matter, I’ll keep looking for you.”
The surrounding noise was loud, so the two spoke quietly, thinking no one heard. But Jinghong Zhui, with his keen hearing, caught every word clearly upstairs.
He didn’t recognize me? This wasn’t his first time in disguise. That night in Qingshui Camp in Shaanxi, he had worn women’s clothes too—when they did that thing. And Su Yan had no memory of it?
Did he reject it so strongly in his heart that he deliberately forgot? Or is he really just not into someone like me…?
Vinegar and bitterness flooded together. Jinghong Zhui couldn’t help squeezing the railing, cracking the hardwood with a loud crack. He stood rigid and still. With his emotions out of control and his inner force in disarray, one more move and he might bring the entire building crashing down.
He must not get jealous, must not get angry, must be a dutiful and disciplined bodyguard—Jinghong Zhui took a deep breath, regulating his breath to calm himself…
—To h*ll with being dutiful! Tonight, “Little Hong’s” patron must be none other than Lord Su. Since he’s forgotten, then I’ll make him remember—with his body!
To h*ll with Fuyin, to h*ll with the Hidden Sword Sect’s Seven Kill Camp—everything was thrown to the back of his mind. Jinghong Zhui, tempering his fury into boldness, prepared to force Su the Patron to take him in. With a flick of his finger, he shot the pearl blossom toward Su Yan.
In the lamplight, the camellia-shaped ornament—about the size of a teacup, with gold filigree and pearls—glimmered as it cut through the air.
Mindful that Su Yan possessed no martial skills, Jinghong Zhui refrained from infusing the throw with inner strength, fearing it might harm him. He aimed precisely for the crown on Su’s head; a single strike would surely knock it askew.
As the ornament flew through the air, the crowd burst into cheers. Guests jostled and surged forward, some even leaping up to try and grab it. But the ornament seemed to have eyes, slipping effortlessly through the gaps between flailing hands, heading straight for Su Yan.
Just as it was about to strike the jade crown, a gust of sinister wind came slicing in from the side and diverted the ornament’s path.
Jinghong Zhui’s sharp eyes caught it—Shen Qi had appeared from who-knows-where, standing at the edge of the crowd, his expression gloomy, gaze suspiciously boring into his disguise.
On the left, a few pleasure-seekers saw the ornament veer their way and rushed forward. Jinghong Zhui, hiding his hand inside the sleeve of his robe, sent out a thread of inner energy, guiding the ornament to change direction midair.
Su Yan, bothered by the crowd, was just escorting Ruan Hongjiao to the edge of the venue when he caught a glimpse of golden light from the corner of his eye shooting his way—before he could react, it veered off again.
The crowd looked like a flock of hungry geese stretching their necks for food, chasing after the flying ornament in another chaotic scramble.
Jinghong Zhui struck again in secret.
Shen Qi, not to be outdone, countered immediately.
Someone cursed, “Are we tossing a pearl flower or playing kickball? Why’s it bouncing all over the place?”
Su Yan, holding Ruan Hongjiao, stared open-mouthed at the flying flashes of gold. In his mind, a commentary in standard Beijing accent began to play:
“Now look, this golden flying thief is quite something—no bigger than a walnut, silver wings, blazing fast, very hard to catch… oh, sorry, it’s a pearl flower.
“Here comes our most competitive patron! Look at that long spear—like a dragon emerging from water, fierce and powerful! One can’t help but think of Zhao Zilong of Changshan, or Guan Yu, the great Lord Guan from the Three Kingdoms… Wait, Guan Yu used a broadsword… Sorry, our patron here’s not holding a spear either—it’s a broom.
“Patron B is forcing his way through with sheer muscle! Told you, in times like these, body mass matters. Just look at that figure—whoa, he’s basically shaped like a square now…
“Patron D lunges with lightning speed—but missed the ornament.
“One patron has two legs… two patrons have four… three patrons, eight legs! They all leap for it together!”
Ruan Hongjiao, holding onto Su Yan, felt his body shaking violently. Concerned, she asked, “Young Master? Are you alright?”
Su Yan was barely holding in his laughter, his face twitching. He leaned his head on her shoulder and gasped out between chuckles, “I’m fine… I just… remembered some… classic commentary lines…”
Ruan Hongjiao wanted to say more, but suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. She turned and saw a man with a saber glaring at her, his eyes sharp and murderous. With a shriek, her legs gave out and she nearly collapsed to the floor.
Su Yan thought something had happened to her and quickly caught her around the waist. “Sister Ruan!” he called.
That one cry—“Sister Ruan!”—caused the two streams of clashing inner energy in the air to suddenly stumble like a misstep in a dance.
The pearl flower escaped the chaos and flew straight toward the main gate.
Fuyin had just stepped through the threshold when he saw a hidden weapon shooting toward him. Alarmed, he thought, This is bad! There are so many people here—if I deflect it or destroy it with inner strength, I’ll blow my cover! Quick-witted, he pretended to trip on the doorstep and fell forward with a yelp.
The pearl flower grazed just over his back and landed several meters away on the street outside.
The crowd fell silent in shock.
Then someone shouted: “Grab it!”
The mob surged out the door, chasing after the spot where the ornament had landed.
A boot with tall black leather stepped squarely on the pearl flower.
Yu Wang carefully wrapped the ornament in a handkerchief and picked it up to examine. “What’s this thing?”
He’d been tailing Fuyin and saw him enter the brothel. He was about to follow when Fuyin tripped at the threshold, and right after, something golden flew through the air and landed at his feet. Someone had clearly tried to ambush the man.
A hidden weapon… shaped like a pearl flower?
Yu Wang was pondering when a horde of people suddenly swarmed him, glaring with righteous fury and clamoring:
“Wanna sell it?”
“How much for it?”
“Name your price! I’ve got silver to spare!”
Looking at this group of grown men with green light practically shining from their eyes as they clamored to buy something off him, Yu Wang found it all rather amusing. He chuckled, “I’m afraid even if you bankrupt yourselves and sell out your entire clans, you still couldn’t afford it.”
