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The moonlight could no longer remain calm.
She sat at the table and drank the tea she had poured earlier. By now, the tea had gone cold, but it was perfect for cooling her agitation.
“What exactly are you here for?” Jiang Qionglin put on his clothes and sat down beside Yuehua.
Yuehua’s chest heaved heavily as she lowered her eyelashes, forcing herself not to look at him.
“Are you really here just to chat and confide in me?” Jiang Qionglin asked again.
Yuehua simply closed her eyes and, after a long while, said, “What if I told you that was truly my intention?”
“Then you would be insulting me,” Jiang Qionglin shrugged with a smile, “and insulting yourself as well. Don’t forget, you were the one who kissed me first.”
Yuehua’s expression froze, revealing a rare look of embarrassment. To Jiang Qionglin, however, it only made her appear all the more endearing.
“Is this Lady Yuehua’s first time?”
“Of course not,” Yuehua denied firmly.
Jiang Qionglin rephrased his question: “Is this your first time visiting Huan Yi Pavilion, or your first time being with a male courtesan?”
Yuehua hesitated for a moment, then nodded before quickly shaking her head. “I’ve seen many male consorts, but this... this is the first time I’ve personally tried it.”
At that moment, the sound of the fourth watch reverberated outside the window, causing Yuehua’s hand holding the teacup to freeze.
After a pause, she set the teacup down, stood up, and bid farewell: “I’ll come visit you another day. Rest well and take care of your health. Your fortunes lie ahead.”
Jiang Qionglin remained silent, watching as she straightened her clothes and walked out the door.
Before leaving Huan Yi Pavilion, Yuehua signaled An Suyun to leave a pouch of southern pearls with the madam. Each pearl was as large as the one she had shown earlier.
“From now on, Master Jiang Qionglin is under the patronage of my mistress. Refund any money from others,” An Suyun instructed.
“Very well! No problem! Please rest assured, my lady!” The madam nodded repeatedly, her joy evident as she beamed uncontrollably. As soon as the two guests left, she rushed to Jiang Qionglin’s room, placed two southern pearls on the table, and showered him with praise.
From that day forward, Jiang Qionglin became exclusively Yuehua’s kept man and never entertained other female patrons again.
No one knew who Yuehua truly was. She came and went like a shadow, and even the madam, using all her connections, couldn’t uncover any information about her.
All the madam knew was that Yuehua was exceedingly generous, willing to spend lavishly.
But that was enough. As long as she had money, why should the madam care where it came from?
The next evening, Yuehua returned, still dressed as a man, accompanied only by her maid. The maid, Su Yun, stood rigidly outside the door, showing no intention of entering. Several times, the madam passed by and offered her a stool or suggested sending another male courtesan to assist her, but each time, Su Yun shook her head and declined.
“The master is strange, but the maid is even stranger,” the madam muttered, shaking her head as she descended the stairs.
Today, Jiang Qionglin’s health had improved significantly. His illness yesterday had been nothing more than frustration caused by Di Jing’s escape. But now that he had met Yuehua, someone he liked even more, most of his anger had dissipated.
Especially the painting she had brought—Spring Trees and a Hundred Flowers in Bloom —it struck a chord deep within him. All day, his mind had been filled with her cold, proud eyes, which seemed to keep people at arm’s length yet couldn’t hide the passion burning inside.
“Why are you so late again?” The third watch had already passed, and Qionglin leaned against the railing, leisurely fanning himself with a feather fan. His soft hair draped over his shoulders, his robe loosely open at the chest, his phoenix-like eyes brimming with allure, and his demeanor exuded a lazy charm.
Seeing him like this, Yuehua held her breath once more.
His breathtaking beauty dazzled her eyes and confused her heart, scattering all the words she had planned to say into oblivion.
“I’m talking to you,” Qionglin waved his hand in front of her face, snapping her out of her daze.
“Uh... I’ve been busy with the imperial examinations lately,” Yuehua replied casually.
“The imperial examinations? The court hasn’t opened them to women yet, so what could you possibly be busy with?”
“I’ve had many students coming and going recently, and I have several properties to rent out,” Yuehua fabricated an excuse. Jiang Qionglin didn’t seem suspicious.
It wasn’t unusual for someone as wealthy as her to own a few vacant properties in the capital.
Jiang Qionglin set aside the feather fan and began toying with the two southern pearls.
Noticing this, Yuehua asked, “Do you like pearls?”
“Pearls given by others don’t interest me. But those you give are precious.”
“You’re such a flatterer,” Yuehua pouted slightly, covering her mouth with a smile.
Jiang Qionglin reached out his hands, pulling her waist toward him, and she fell naturally into his embrace.
His kisses fell on her lips like raindrops—gentle and delicate, brushing lightly against her crimson lips without delving deeper, yet intoxicating all the same.
His hands didn’t stay idle either. Soon, he removed Yuehua’s outer robe but didn’t rush further.
His palms grazed over every sensitive spot on her body, only to bypass them entirely. This left her restless and craving, unable to satisfy her desires.
His technique was highly skilled, prompting Yuehua to wonder who had taught him these tricks.
“Was it Madam Xu?”
“What?” Jiang Qionglin paused, startled.
“Did your foster mother, Madam Xu, teach you these skills?” Yuehua’s eyes regained a hint of clarity. “You and her...”
“No. Don’t forget, I am a man. I understand women.” Jiang Qionglin smiled faintly, lowering his head to linger teasingly over her chest.
When Yuehua felt the heat of his body intensify, her desire faded once more. She rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing the dark, branded mark on his skin, and said gravely, “Do you want to live the rest of your life with this slave mark on your body?”
“What else can I do?” Jiang Qionglin’s movements halted as he stopped what he was doing.
Yuehua continued, “You are a seven-foot-tall man, erudite and talented, handsome and refined, yet you choose to be a male courtesan at Huan Yi Pavilion. When the time comes for you to face your ancestors in the afterlife, how will you have the face to meet your parents?”
A sudden dull pain hit his chest, and he suddenly recalled the night before his birthday when his father had asked him under the moonlight: “Qionglin, in the future, you must become a pillar of the nation, an upright official who speaks for the common people.”
“If I can take the imperial examinations, I will surely win the top honor,” the young version of himself had said, his eyes filled with aspirations.
He could even remember the proud looks on his parents’ faces the day the provincial exam results were announced.
But good times didn’t last long. The grand house collapsed overnight, and chaos erupted as fire spread across the land. Within a single day, an entire city fell.
Three years later, he became like a wandering weed adrift on the vast sea.
Now, all he could muster was a forced, insincere smile—there wasn’t an ounce of sincerity left in him.
The youthful version of himself, the one who once dreamed of serving the world, had long been swept away by the tides, finally drowning at the bottom of the river without even a corpse to float to the surface.
Jiang Qionglin laughed carelessly, draping his clothes loosely over his shoulders to reveal half of his fragrant shoulder. He said indifferently, “What’s wrong with being a male courtesan? There are countless male consorts in this world. Take Zhao Xianzhi and Zhao Ziting, the consorts of Consort Shu—they strut around arrogantly, and even high-ranking officials from the Ministry of Revenue bow to them. Why can’t I live such a life?”
“Do you really think that way?”
“Absolutely.” Jiang Qionglin nodded without hesitation.
In truth, he had grown accustomed to being admired by others. He indulged in this lifestyle, waiting only for a decent woman to redeem him so he could find a comfortable perch, like a bird finding a sturdy branch. If he were to leave this place now, he would truly descend to the lowest rung of society—a wretched commoner with no reason to go on living.
“I thought you were different from other gigolos. I suppose I misjudged you,” Yuehua sighed, adjusted her clothing, and walked out.
Jiang Qionglin made no attempt to stop her or ask about the meaning behind her words.
He knew well that throughout history, favor flowed like water—those meant to stay wouldn’t leave, and those destined to go couldn’t be held back.
________________________________________
The next evening, after dinner, Yuehua dismissed her attendants early and went to Huan Yi Pavilion with Su Yun.
She had expected herself to be furious, but to her surprise, she regretted leaving the pavilion the moment she stepped out the previous night. Not only did she fail to resist the urge to see him today, but she arrived two hours earlier than the past two days. She could only sigh at how deeply she had fallen under his spell…
However, it was fortunate she came two hours early, or she would have missed such an extraordinary scene.
Outside the gates of Huan Yi Pavilion stood a group of burly men, seemingly servants from some noble household.
“Go see what’s happening,” Yuehua whispered from the shadows. To anyone not paying close attention, she would remain invisible.
“Yes,” An Suyun nodded and immediately went forward to investigate. After a moment, she returned to report: “The elder sister of the Vice Minister of Works is causing trouble inside the pavilion. She insists that Master Jiang accompany her for the night, but he has refused, and they’re arguing inside.”
“The elder sister of Zhang Tianmiao, the Vice Minister of Works whose daughter died in Yangchun Mansion recently?” Yuehua inquired.
An Suyun nodded. “The woman inside is his elder sister. Her husband passed away many years ago, and just recently, she received an imperial decree granting her a chaste memorial archway, along with the title of fourth-rank Lady of Imperial Grace.”
“How amusing,” Yuehua sneered. “It seems she’s been suppressing her desires for a long time, which explains why she’s acting so brazenly now.”
Without much thought, she ordered, “Summon the Prefect of Jingzhao.”
“Yes.”
Just as Su Yun was about to turn away, Yuehua added, “Wait.” Upon further reflection, she decided it was better to let things settle down quietly.
“Let’s observe what they intend to do.”
“Yes.” An Suyun obeyed unconditionally, leading Yuehua through a secluded alley into the back courtyard of the pavilion.
By now, chaos had erupted inside Huan Yi Pavilion. Jiang Qionglin was restrained on a table by several servants, stripped nearly bare, with only a thin robe left on his body, still damp with water stains.
“You’re nothing but a male courtesan. What right do you have to bargain with me? It’s just a request to keep me company for drinks—does that make you feel so wronged?”
Lady Zhang refrained from whipping him but didn’t hesitate to humiliate him.
She grabbed the collar of Jiang Qionglin’s robe and tore it open, exposing the blue slave mark on his shoulder to everyone present. Laughing cruelly, she taunted, “You’re nothing but the lowest of the low. How dare you refuse me?”
With that, she removed his clothing entirely, leaving him naked and sprawled across the table.
“Look at this!” she shouted triumphantly. “No matter how flawless and radiant your body may be, if I want to see it, you’ll strip bare for my amusement!”
Jiang Qionglin’s eyes were clouded with despair, as though he was struggling to suppress his emotions.
Yuehua froze momentarily.
In that instant, she saw everything she wanted reflected in his gaze: indignation, humiliation, and anger.
And strangely, she felt a sense of satisfaction.
“Why can you entertain others but not me?” Lady Zhang spat, slapping Jiang Qionglin across the face.
A vivid red handprint instantly bloomed on his pale cheek.
Slap! Slap! Several more sounds echoed as Lady Zhang struck him three more times.
Yet after just three blows, she was already panting heavily, unable to continue.
Lady Zhang was no longer young—well over fifty, her figure bloated and cumbersome, gasping for air with the slightest movement. Her broad forehead and angular face framed tight, downward-sloping eyebrows and eyes, giving her an intimidating appearance.
Hidden in the shadows, Yuehua shook her head repeatedly. “Three months ago, when a group of ladies were conferred titles, I failed to notice how sharp and menacing her features were. My oversight led to Qionglin’s humiliation today.”
“People always wear two faces,” An Suyun remarked calmly. “They smile sweetly to their superiors but treat those beneath them with narrow-minded cruelty.”
“You seem far wiser than I am,” Yuehua scoffed.
“Su Yun dares not presume such wisdom,” An Suyun bowed her head humbly. After a pause, she asked, “Shall we intervene?”
Yuehua shook her head. “Humiliation isn’t necessarily a bad thing. As long as he isn’t physically harmed, this disgrace might just turn into a blessing in disguise.”
“I understand, Mistress.”
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