Chapter Two
Lanling Palace -- The Imperial Study, Just Before Midnight
The summons had been wordless--a single red lacquer token delivered by a silent eunuch, its weight heavier than gold. Only one man used it.
Li Jinyan walked the darkened corridors alone, hair still damp from the bath, robes hastily fastened but unmistakably noble. When he reached the study doors, the guards opened them without announcement.
Inside, the room was dim but warm, lit by a brazier and a few oil lamps. Scrolls lined every wall, and a quiet tension sat in the air like incense smoke.
Fu Yìchén, Emperor of Lanling, stood with his back to the door, hands clasped behind him. Though well into his sixties, he stood tall--his frame still broad beneath layers of ceremonial silk, his posture that of a man who had once worn armor more comfortably than robes. His hair was streaked with grey, but his voice was steel.
"You've finally come," he said without turning.
Li Jinyan said nothing as he approached, each footstep sharp against polished stone.
The emperor turned slowly. His gaze was calm, cold, and completely awake.
"So," Fu Yìchén said, folding his arms. "The madame of the Red Lantern Pavilion marched into my son's private chambers like she owned them."
He arched a brow. "Did she?"
"She spoke freely," Jinyan said.
"She spoke like a woman who had seen something worse than a prince in the dark," Fu Yìchén replied. "And I suspect she did."
He circled the desk slowly, eyes never leaving his son.
"I've tolerated your... inclinations," the emperor said. "You were a child of storms. I thought if I gave you control, you would master it. And until now, you have."
He stopped just in front of Jinyan.
"But tonight? You took something sacred and left it in the dirt."
"She submitted," Jinyan said tightly. "Willingly."
"I believe you. And I know what that means to someone like you."
Fu Yìchén's voice softened--not in mercy, but in warning.
"Which is why I'm going to say this only once: if you want her, you take her into your household. Properly. Under name and protection."
He stepped back.
"If not, she will be reassigned. To another patron. One of my choosing."
Li's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing.
"I won't be forced into a claim," he said.
Fu Yìchén gave a low, humorless chuckle. "You weren't forced to ruin her either--but you did. You crossed the line. Now you answer for it."
He returned to his seat behind the desk, folding his sleeves neatly.
"You have three days, Jinyan. Choose: claim her, or let her be claimed."
He looked up once more, his voice final.
"Dismissed."
Lanling Palace -- Prince's Private Chambers, Late Night
The heavy doors groaned open as Li Jinyan stepped inside, tension rolling off him like smoke from a battlefield. His inner robe clung to his shoulders, damp from the lingering steam of the baths and the memory of his father's voice still echoing in his head.
The scent of sandalwood still clung to him. So did wax. Oil. Her.
He stopped dead at the sight of the figure by the hearth.
Zixin sat comfortably in one of the cushioned chairs, thick arms stretched lazily along the sides, a cup of wine balanced in one hand. The firelight danced off the carved lines of his heavy jaw and the glint of muscle beneath his robe.
He looked perfectly relaxed. Too relaxed.
"Big Brother," Zixin said, voice smooth as oiled leather. "You missed dinner. I was beginning to worry."
Li didn't move. "You're in my chambers."
Zixin raised his cup in a mock toast. "And you're welcome. I've warmed the seat for you."
Li shut the door quietly behind him, each motion controlled. He said nothing.
Zixin took a sip of wine, watching him over the rim. "Did Father enjoy your explanation? Or was he too busy making arrangements for your next lesson in responsibility?"
Li didn't respond.
Zixin's eyes glinted. "I heard she crawled. That true?" A pause. "You've always had a gift for getting people to kneel."
Li peeled off his robe and set it aside without a glance. "Why are you here."
"To offer my support, of course," Zixin said, setting the cup down and standing with a slow stretch that pulled the fabric tight across his broad chest. "You've got three days, don't you? Three days to decide if you want to claim a whore."
Li's eyes flashed once--sharp, dangerous.
Zixin smiled. "Don't worry. I'd never touch her. Father wouldn't allow it. But others might. You'd be amazed how quickly a jewel loses its shine once passed around the court."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping low, almost affectionate. "Would be a shame, wouldn't it? To let her rot while you sit here pretending you're not already obsessed."
Li didn't flinch. He just stared.
And Zixin, as always, smiled wider.
"I'll be watching, Gege."
Then he turned and walked out, his footfalls silent for someone so heavy--leaving Li alone, the fire snapping behind him, and the weight of blood thicker than ever in the air.
Red Lantern Pavilion -- Yuan Fei's Private Room, Morning Light
The screens had been drawn closed, but the filtered light through gauze silk made the room glow faintly gold. Yuan Fei sat on the edge of her lacquered daybed, freshly bathed, her skin still pink from the scrubbing Wukong insisted on.
Her body ached.
And not from regret.
The door slid open.
She didn't need to look to know who it was.
Mèng Yao swept into the room like a tide coming in--slow, inevitable, and heavy with judgment. She wore crimson today, her hair bound with iron pins, and her expression carved from polished stone.
She closed the door behind her herself.
"You look rested," she said without warmth.
Yuan Fei kept her eyes low. "I am, Mistress."
Silence.
Then the rustle of silk as Mèng Yao stepped closer, eyes flicking over her skin. Her gaze caught on the faint bruising at Yuan's hips, the subtle welts that hadn't fully faded.
"You let him leave you like that," Mèng Yao said. Her voice didn't rise--but the temperature in the room dropped.
Yuan Fei swallowed. "He didn't leave me. He--"
"He walked out." Mèng Yao cut her off. "Left you blindfolded, dripping, half-unconscious, on the floor. My best girl. My only untouchable." Her lip curled slightly. "And now you're just another one who'll need a painted veil and long sleeves to hide the bruises."
"I wanted it."
That brought Mèng Yao up short.
Yuan Fei looked up, finally, and her voice was steady.
"I wanted him. I always have."
Mèng Yao's eyes narrowed, but she didn't speak.
"I gave him what no one else was allowed to take," Yuan continued, "because he didn't ask me to play a role. He didn't need me to pretend. He saw what I was."
Mèng Yao crossed her arms. "And what are you now, girl? Free? You think because a prince spilled himself on your back, you belong to something other than this house?"
Yuan Fei flinched--but nodded.
"I still belong to you, Mistress. I know that. I owe you my life. But I won't apologize for wanting more."
That cracked something.
Mèng Yao stared at her for a long, brittle moment, then turned to pace the room, fury held tight under her skin.
"I raised you," she said, voice sharp. "From gutters and lice to silk and pipa strings. I turned you into art. Into something men paid fortunes just to look at."
"I know."
"And now I have to send away generals who ask for your company," she hissed, "because I can't offer damaged goods."
Yuan Fei stood, slow but steady. "Then don't offer me at all."
That stopped her cold.
"Excuse me?"
"Wait until he comes for me," Yuan said softly. "Because he will."
Mèng Yao stared. "And if he doesn't?"
Yuan's jaw set. "Then I'll go to the highest bidder with your blessing. And I'll never think of him again."
The silence stretched.
Finally, Mèng Yao exhaled, long and bitter.
"You have until the full moon."
Then, quieter, almost grudging:
"I pray he's worth everything I made you."
She left without another word.
Lanling Palace -- The Imperial Court Antechamber, Noon
The room was quiet but tense--thick with the scent of pressed parchment and old incense, a sacred stillness reserved only for those who stood one breath away from the emperor himself.
Zixin did not wait for permission.
He strode past the court attendants and through the carved wooden doors, brushing aside the eunuch who moved to protest.
Emperor Fu Yìchén stood near the window, hands clasped loosely behind his back, gazing at the gardens below. He did not turn when Zixin entered.
"You're bold today," the emperor said mildly.
Zixin bowed low, but not humbly.
"I come with a request," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "About the girl. Yuan Fei."
Fu Yìchén's hands tightened slightly behind him.
"She is not a matter for you," he said.
Zixin raised his head. "And yet she's caused more disruption in this palace than half the court's spies. If she's truly this important--shouldn't she be secured by someone who knows how to use her properly?"
Fu Yìchén turned then, eyes sharp, unreadable.
"You mean by you?"
"I mean by someone who won't treat her like a toy and abandon her when the thrill fades," Zixin said, with a smile too perfect to be sincere. "Someone who understands power isn't about indulgence, but restraint."
He stepped closer, his posture that of a man offering a solution, not a demand.
"Let me take her," Zixin said. "As my companion. My claim would elevate her. Solidify her loyalty. And it would send a clear message--to the court, to the Pavilion, and to my brother."
Fu Yìchén's gaze did not soften.
"You've never shown interest in her before."
"She was off-limits before," Zixin said simply. "Now she's damaged."
That earned him a flicker of disdain.
"And yet," he added smoothly, "I see her value. Where others might only see scandal."
The emperor was silent for a long moment.
Then he turned back to the window.
"You may make your intentions known to the Pavilion."
Zixin smiled.
"But I will not force her," Fu Yìchén added sharply. "If she chooses you, it will be her decision."
Zixin's jaw tightened for just a breath.
"Of course," he said smoothly. "That's only fair."
He bowed again--low and deep.
Then left, his mind already working through what needed to be said, offered, or threatened to make her choose him instead.
Red Lantern Pavilion -- Inner Courtyard, Dusk
The brothel's inner court was not made for men like Zixin. It was a place of candlelight and carved screens, where music floated like perfume and whispers carried further than footfalls. The air was heavy with camellia and old secrets.
But tonight, the shadows shifted.
Zixin arrived flanked by two guards in quiet armor, though he left them at the gate. He didn't need muscle here--just presence. Broad-shouldered in a bronze-lined black robe, he walked like a man born to tread marble halls and crush something soft underfoot.
The attendants didn't greet him. They simply vanished.
A servant led him in silence through winding halls, past fluttering silk curtains and doorways where no one dared peek. When they reached the reception hall, Zixin stepped inside alone.
The room was spacious but quiet, lined with muted tapestries and low golden light. A small brazier burned in the corner--amber, cinnamon, and sandalwood curling from it.
And at its center, waiting behind a carved redwood table, sat Madame Mèng Yao.
She did not stand.
She did not bow.
She simply gestured to the cushion across from her with two fingers.
