Volume 1, Chapter 9: Encountering an Abusive Man

Visiting such a place was something she could never have imagined in her previous life, let alone actually doing it. Yet here she was, and the sheer thrill of it left Wen Yunmu brimming with excitement.

Standing at the entrance of the Floating Jade Pavilion, Wen Yunmu felt as though she were in a trance. Rows of crimson lanterns hung from towering poles, illuminating the three bold, sweeping characters of the pavilion’s name. A wave of heavy perfume, mingled with the sound of flutes and strings, washed over her like a storm. The sheer atmosphere alone was enough to make her feel faint.

"Let’s go. Don't just stand there like a fool." Ye Chuiyun stepped forward, and Wen Yunmu hurried to keep pace, followed closely by two personal bodyguards.

The building was massive and circular, with independent rooms lining every floor. Some guests sat in the corridors listening to music, while others drank in the main hall; fortunately, there was no sign of anything lewd.

"The Floating Jade Pavilion is a place where gold is squandered," Ye Chuiyun whispered as they walked side by side. "The front is for refined guests, but the sordid business happens in the back."

"I see," she replied.

Wen Yunmu noticed many people nodding respectfully as they passed. It seemed her brother was someone of note in the capital. Meanwhile, Ye Chuiyun—the Prince of Tang—kept a low profile; even if people recognized him, they dared not approach him casually.

"Young Marquis—" Once they were seated, the proprietor arrived personally to welcome them. She immediately ordered a constant stream of seasonal fruits, candied treats, and various snacks, filling the table, followed by several pots of wine. "Today, Yunfu—"

"I’m not looking for Yunfu." Ye Chuiyun snapped his fan open, gave a few light flicks, and tapped it against the table. The proprietor, a woman who knew her goods, recognized the ebony and gold-dusted fan immediately. Given that this man had spoken before the Young Marquis, his status was clearly extraordinary.

"Which lady does the young master wish to see?"

"I want White Lotus."

The proprietor’s heart skipped a beat. "White Lotus is unavailable right now," she said with a troubled expression.

"Why?"

Why? How could she explain? That a fight had already broken out over her? "She—she isn't feeling well."

"A-Jing, go see what is happening." Ye Chuiyun’s face darkened. He didn't even bother to look up, merely leaning back in his chair and tapping his expensive fan against his palm in a rhythmic, idle beat.

Seeing that the distinguished guest would not be deterred, the proprietor had no choice but to try and charm Wen Yunmu instead. Wen Yunmu broke into a cold sweat, terrified to speak for fear of giving herself away. But the proprietor, seemingly possessed, began to flirt despite her fading youth, leaning in closer.

In a moment of desperation, Wen Yunmu feigned authority and smashed her teacup onto the floor.

The proprietor froze and straightened up. Wen Yunmu frowned in displeasure and snapped, "Get out."

***

Hearing this, the corners of Ye Chuiyun’s mouth curled upward.

"Young Master," the bodyguard A-Jing returned to report. "The eldest son of the Duke of Cao and the second son of the Vice Minister of Works are fighting over White Lotus."

The Duke of Cao’s estate? Weren't they the notorious fallen nobles of the capital? They were said to be founding heroes, but their descendants held no military posts, failed the imperial examinations, and lived solely off ancestral shade. They had long since declined—did they really have the nerve to clash with a new rising power like the Feng family?

"Let’s go watch the show." Ye Chuiyun rose to his full height and grabbed Wen Yunmu’s arm to pull her up. She tugged back, filled with anxiety. "Your Highness, if I go, will I be recognized?"

"What are you afraid of? Don't you want to see what kind of woman Wei San likes? Only at a moment like this can you see it clearly."

A-Jing led the way, climbing another floor before stopping in front of an open room. A crowd had already gathered. A-Jing pushed through, clearing a path that squeezed them into a corner where they could see without being clearly seen.

The Duke of Cao’s eldest son was short and crude-looking, making the ordinary-looking Second Young Master Feng appear like a dashing, elegant gentleman.

Wen Yunmu curled her lip, thinking that if she were that girl, she would choose to serve the second son of Feng as well.

At that moment, the woman named White Lotus was shivering beside the young Master Feng. Wen Yunmu observed her closely. Her beauty was not particularly striking—certainly not as refined as her own two younger sisters—but she possessed a unique charm. Though she was a woman as ripe as a honeyed peach, her eyes were extraordinarily clear, glistening like a fawn’s, filled with a helpless panic that tugged at the heartstrings.

She rested her hand weakly on Master Feng’s shoulder and whispered, "Second Young Master, please don't. I... I will just sing two more songs for Master Cao."

Master Feng grabbed her hand and shielded her behind him, sneering, "Master Cao, are you unaware of the rules of precedence here?"

"Precedence? If we talk about who came first, neither of us arrived before Wei San. But as long as White Lotus lingers in this house of pleasure, she belongs to the Floating Jade Pavilion. Whoever calls for her, she must sing," Master Cao mocked. "Or are you, Feng the Second, acting as a doorman for that man Wei San?"

The words were harsh and true. Master Feng’s face turned scarlet. He stepped forward, ready to throw a punch, but White Lotus grabbed his arm, tears welling in her eyes. "Second Young Master, please, for my sake, don't. If something happens, won't it just bring you unnecessary trouble?"

Master Feng pulled her into his arms to wipe her tears. "Don't worry, I won't let you suffer such insults."

"Heh, so this Master Feng is a romantic," Wen Yunmu remarked with disdain.

Ye Chuiyun let out a short laugh. In the blink of an eye, a fight broke out. Though the Cao family was down on its luck, the eldest son still traveled with a few thugs, and the Feng family was equally well-guarded. Before their masters could even speak, the men were brawling. Master Feng, holding no regard for Master Cao, grabbed him by the collar and the two rolled into a heap.

With a crash, the onlookers scattered like a receding tide.

Wen Yunmu had been standing too close and hadn't moved fast enough; she watched in horror as two brawling guards threatened to slam right into her.

"Get out of the way!" A-Jing kicked out, sending both men flying into the room and shattering a carved wooden window.

***

With someone interfering, the servants on both sides were too dull-witted to see who they were dealing with. Seeing their own masters beaten, they rushed at A-Jing, but they were no match for him; they were felled the moment they crossed paths with him.

Master Feng, being the shrewder one, noticed the commotion dying down and looked up. He saw two figures standing at the doorway—the one in front was feigning elegance with a fan, while the one behind him was obscured by shadows.

As Master Feng clutched Master Cao’s collar, ready to deliver another blow, he heard the crisp sound of a fan snapping shut. A tall bodyguard grabbed White Lotus by the wrist and announced, "My master wants you to sing two songs."

The room and the corridor fell into a sudden, heavy silence. It seemed someone else wanted to claim White Lotus today. Those who were about to leave stopped in their tracks, all casting their gazes toward the dark corner.

"Damn it, if I don't teach you a lesson today—" Master Feng shoved Master Cao aside and stormed toward Ye Chuiyun and Wen Yunmu.

In that instant, Wen Yunmu remembered Lu Jia'an. She couldn't help but tremble. She wanted to run; she feared such conflicts, feared a man raising his fists at her. She felt an urge to crouch down and cover her head, but she couldn't run now. She wore a face identical to her brother’s, and she could not afford to make a fool of herself in public.

Besides, she had been reborn—she shouldn't be afraid anymore! But why was she so useless? Why wouldn't her legs stop shaking?

Wen Yunmu bit her lip hard and instinctively grabbed the edge of Ye Chuiyun’s robe.

Ye Chuiyun glanced back, noticing that her face was deathly pale and damp with sweat, her entire body shaking.

He reached out and instinctively gripped her cold hand.

"Don't be afraid. I am here."

Amidst the chaos, Ye Chuiyun’s voice was clear and resolute.

"Hey, hey, Brother Feng!" Suddenly, someone pushed through the crowd and wrapped his arms around Master Feng to stop him. The familiarity of that voice pushed Wen Yunmu’s terror to its peak. It was a voice she would never forget—it was Lu Jia'an, the man who had beaten her for three years.

At that moment, Wen Yunmu could no longer hold back. She turned to flee, but inside her wide sleeve, Ye Chuiyun’s hand gripped hers tightly, pulling her back to his side.

Suddenly, Lu Jia'an spoke: "Young Marquis Wen?"