First Chapter
March was the season when peach blossoms were in full bloom.
The spring rain had just ceased, leaving a faint dampness in the air. The delicate melodies of silk and bamboo instruments, accompanied by the soft singing of courtesans, drifted from the exquisite pavilion veiled in willow mist. The sound mingled with the remnants of fallen petals beneath the flowering trees lining the streets, creating an atmosphere of decadent allure.
A pale, slender hand gracefully lifted the curtain, allowing the evening sunlight to spill into the dimly lit room. The man reclining on the divan fluttered his lashes slightly before opening his eyes. His dark pupils fixed on a golden-edged cloud at the horizon as he lazily stretched. "Couldn’t you let me rest a little longer…?"
The hall was alive with the sounds of revelry and music. Dancers clad in sheer gauze swayed with unrestrained grace, their faint smiles captivating the eyes of all who watched.
Feng Ziyuan, the city governor of Pingling, forced a smile as he sat to the side, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. He stole a glance at the man who was teasing and entangled with Yanshu. Seeing no displeasure on his face, Feng Ziyuan relaxed slightly.
With the Brocade Dynasty expanding its military forces, Pingling had been placed under the jurisdiction of the King Who Pacifies the South. This man, Ning Fei, was one of the king’s most trusted subordinates, sent to Pingling to oversee conscription. Feng Ziyuan had gone to great lengths to please this envoy. If the man’s mood were soured by a mere Red Courtesan putting on airs, wouldn’t all his efforts be in vain?
As the song and dance concluded, the delicate clinking of beaded curtains sounded as a radiant young maid entered gracefully. With her hands clasped and head slightly bowed, she knelt in a respectful salute. "My lady is currently discussing music with a close friend and cannot leave her courtyard. If the esteemed guest wishes to see her, please visit the Secluded Abode for a conversation."
Feng Ziyuan exhaled in relief and rose with a smile. "Lord Ning, after you."
"I’ve lost interest," Ning Fei replied indifferently, his attention fixed on Yanshu in his arms.
Feng Ziyuan panicked. "My lord, are you displeased? In truth—"
"No matter how aloof she pretends to be, it’s just an act. In the end, she’s nothing more than a courtesan," Ning Fei said, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "If she were truly so noble, how could she have fallen into this life of selling herself?"
The quiet maid suddenly spoke up. "If not for the patronage of noble lords like yourself, Lady Qingyue would never have gained such fame in Pingling."
The hall fell silent. All the guests present stole glances at Ning Fei’s expression.
Before Feng Ziyuan could reprimand her, Ning Fei suddenly smiled. "Well, even a mere maid speaks with such wit—lead the way!"
Passing through a small gate, they entered an elegant courtyard where the warm glow of lanterns intertwined with flowering trees, creating a pleasing sight.
As they turned a corridor, a refreshing wave of fragrant incense greeted them. Ning Fei inhaled deeply, only to hear the sound of laughter from a nearby room. Among the voices, one stood out—low and melodious. "Xueying seems in high spirits today. Why not ask her to help you revise that musical score from last time? Otherwise, during the next Public Performance…"
Though the voice was soft, it struck Ning Fei like thunder. Pushing past the maid leading the way, he barged into the room, startling the women inside into a chorus of gasps.
When he finally saw the occupants clearly, Ning Fei froze in place.One of the women had been lounging lazily on a chaise longue, chatting and laughing with the others. When someone suddenly barged in, a sharp glint flashed in her eyes. After recognizing Ning Fei, she showed only a brief moment of surprise before regaining her composure. With a smile, she asked, "Has the young master come to listen to the music?"
Before Ning Fei could answer, the woman who had been playing the zither stood up angrily, hands on her hips, and scolded, "Did you lose your manners to the dogs? Barging in like that!"
Ning Fei ignored her, his gaze fixed on the woman reclining on the chaise longue. Her long hair cascaded loosely, her smile faint, and a loose robe concealed her figure entirely. She wore no jewelry—her usual style. But why was she here?
"You..."
Meeting his scrutinizing gaze, she stood up and walked toward him, stopping just in front of him. "This humble one is Qingyan. Does the young master wish to listen to music or play a game of chess?" Seeing Ning Fei frozen in place, she flashed a smile and gestured toward an embroidered door leading to the inner chambers. "Or would you prefer to retire early?"
The air seemed to freeze. At her silent signal, the zither player huffed and gathered the instrument from the table, quickly ushering the other performers out. Even the maid who had guided Ning Fei in was shut outside.
"Yixiao, how are you here—we all thought you were dead. And yet, here you are." Ning Fei clenched his fists tightly, restraining the urge to strangle her. She blinked mischievously, looping her arms around his neck and whispering sweetly in his ear, "I'm alive. What of it? Planning to drag me back for punishment?"
Ning Fei stiffened, then abruptly shoved her away. She stumbled back onto the chaise longue but simply reclined, squinting at him. "After all these years, you're still as rough as ever." Ning Fei gritted his teeth. "I can't believe it. How... how could you fall so low?"
She twirled a lock of her hair, smiling. "Life is short. If one doesn't seize joy when they can, who knows if there'll be a tomorrow? By the way, tell me—has he ever thought of me? If so, you should bring him to see me. For old times' sake, I won't charge him the Night-Passing Fee..."
Taking several deep breaths, Ning Fei finally steadied his ragged breathing. He gave her one last long look before turning wordlessly toward the door. Just as he pulled it open, she called out, "Ning Fei." He paused. In a husky voice, she teased, "You—really don't want me?"
With a loud slam, he stormed out, her unrestrained laughter echoing behind him.
Striding back to the main hall, he dismissed the dancers and singers with a sharp command and ordered Feng Ziyuan, "Fetch the master of the Pavilion Among Flowers for me!" Noticing his unusual demeanor, Feng Ziyuan didn't dare ask questions and hurried off.
Soon, a middle-aged man trotted behind Feng Ziyuan toward the hall. Before he could steady himself, Ning Fei demanded bluntly, "I want to redeem Qingyan. Name your price!"
Gasps rippled through the room, but no one dared object. The man stammered, "My lord, Qingyan joined the pavilion voluntarily. In the seven years she's been here, she's never signed any contract. If my lord—"
Before he could finish, Ning Fei cursed under his breath. While everyone stood bewildered, he dashed out of the hall, only to return moments later, seething as he took his seat again.After a moment of silence, Ning Fei smiled and turned to the crowd. "Why so quiet? A banquet isn't a banquet without some liveliness."
It took a pause before the guests thawed from their stiffness.
His sudden fury and equally abrupt composure had left everyone bewildered, yet none dared to question it.
Ning Fei beckoned Yanshu, whom he had been holding earlier, back to his side. His expression betrayed nothing, though an occasional flicker of emotion passed through his eyes.
Just as abruptly as she had vanished before, she had appeared before him—only to disappear again in an instant. Only the faint fragrance lingering on his robes from her touch reminded him it hadn’t been a dream.
He needed to inform His Highness at once.
Yet he couldn’t guess how His Highness would react upon hearing the news.
Fu Yixiao stood barefoot by the window, clad in her Silver-Glittering Patterned Snow Gauze Robe, her loosely tied dark hair adorned with a pale blue Glass Hairpin. She was as serene as an immortal.
A woman pushed the door open and, upon spotting Yixiao by the window, startled with a gasp. Pressing a hand to her chest, she scolded, "Why are you sitting in the dark? I thought you’d run off again!" As she spoke, she struck a flint and lit the candles one by one. In the flickering light, she was revealed to be the woman who had been playing the zither earlier.
Returning to the table, Yixiao propped her chin lazily on her hand. "Xueying, the Ghost Festival is almost here. If you don’t go back soon, Uncle Ling might come fetch you himself." Xueying pinched out the flint and sat beside her. "Come back with me, won’t you? If I return alone, Father might never let me out again."
Yixiao scoffed. "Stop pretending to be pitiful. The moment you hold a pair of scissors to your neck, who in the Ling family would dare refuse you?" Xueying immediately bristled, balling her fists to pummel her. "You always bring up those old stories to embarrass me! One of these days, I’ll get so mad I’ll never come back!"
Yixiao dodged with exaggerated alarm, mimicking the drawn-out, theatrical wail of an opera heroine. "Oh, husband, how cruel you are!" Xueying finally burst into laughter. "You’re truly a first-class scoundrel!"
After a while, Yixiao’s smile faded. Softly, she said, "I know you’re worried—go back quickly. I’ll be fine." Xueying spat in disbelief. "Don’t lie to me! After hiding for so many years, now that they’ve found you here, do you really think they won’t try everything to drag you back?"
Yixiao fell silent. After a long pause, she said, "I plan to go to Lucheng." Xueying leapt up in shock. "Are you mad? Why would you walk right into their hands—do you want to jump off another cliff?"
Yixiao shook her head. "Some things must be said face to face. Otherwise, the poison in my heart will never be purged. Hiding isn’t a solution."
Xueying studied her for a long moment before sighing and standing. Yixiao caught her sleeve, looking up. "Where are you going?" "That Silver Bow of yours must be rusted by now. I’ll polish it for you." Without turning back, Xueying walked out.
Yixiao’s gaze drifted from Xueying’s retreating figure, swallowed by the darkness, to the longbow hanging on the wall. With a low chuckle, she murmured, "Four years without use—it should be rusted. But the bow’s right here... where are you going to polish it?"
In the quiet room, only the occasional crackle of candle flames remained.
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