What a strange way to “pass by”—not walking through the corridor but crashing into his door, and couldn’t she even come up with a better excuse? Yin Gezhi felt somewhat impatient, glancing down at her before pushing her out the door as he stepped out himself. He was about to suggest going to her room when the girl in front of him started trembling like she was having a seizure, dropping to her knees with a “thud”!
“Young Master.” Her voice was full of trembling, and Duanxian’s face turned ghastly pale as she kowtowed to him: “This servant truly had no ill intentions!”
Yin Gezhi was stunned, lowering his head to seriously reflect—was he really that frightening?
“I’m not blaming you,” Yin Gezhi said. “Get up.”
His gaze was like iron hooks, terrifying Duanxian immensely. She hesitated for a long while before slowly standing up. The person beside her was more impatient: “Where’s your room?”
Room? Swallowing hard, Duanxian pointed across the way. Without another word, Yin Gezhi strode in that direction.
Duanxian stood frozen, looking at his retreating figure, then at Feng Yue’s door, suddenly feeling a bit of regret.
Had she made the wrong decision?
The bathhouse at Menghui Tower was large, with the courtesans bathing together for speed and convenience, but it had one drawback: it was noisy.
Seven or eight courtesans surrounded her, enviously eyeing the marks on her body, chattering: “Feng Yue is so lucky! This patron is handsome and generous with rewards, and looking at these… his skills must not be bad either.”
The “skills” they were talking about definitely weren’t martial arts. Feng Yue chose to remain silent, quietly scrubbing her skin, her face expressionless, looking completely different from how she appeared before Yin Gezhi and Lingsu—cold and distant.
The courtesans were long used to her behavior, cursing her two-faced nature behind her back while still trying to curry favor with her face. After all, the flower queen selection was coming up soon, and with Feng Yue’s beauty, she had a good chance of winning. When she had too many customers to handle then, they might get some business passed their way.
So even though Feng Yue seemed completely unapproachable, the group of unclothed courtesans still surrounded her with smiles: “We hear that lord is of noble status and cherishes you so. Perhaps one day he’ll redeem you. We’re truly envious beyond words.”
“Yes, they say he flew into a rage for your sake, breaking the hands of the patron who came to redeem you. Oh my, if only a patron would be so domineering for me just once, I’d die happy!”
After washing, Feng Yue stood up, water droplets cascading down her body, splashing the courtesans who closed their eyes.
Without a word, she wrapped herself in clothes and left, leaving a pool of awkwardly glancing courtesans behind.
“What attitude!” Once she was far enough away, someone said displeasedly: “She smiles so happily at patrons but acts all high and mighty, ignoring us sisters. I can’t believe patrons fancy someone like her!”
“Who can help it when she’s pretty?” someone sneered.
“Pretty? She just uses thick makeup. Haven’t you noticed she won’t even wash her face in the bathhouse? I’d like to see how pretty she is after washing her face!”
They had a point—Feng Yue’s makeup was indeed the heaviest in all of Menghui Tower, with eyes painted like a fox’s and lips thickly rouged. If she washed her face, she surely wouldn’t be so radiantly beautiful.
The courtesans felt somewhat comforted and continued bathing. Feng Yue left the bathhouse, having heard nothing, and walked straight upstairs.
The room was already empty—had Yin Gezhi left? Just as she sighed in relief and was about to sit down, Lingsu jumped out from somewhere, her little braid quivering with anger: “Master! Just now Duanxian came and stole your customer!”
Hmm? Feng Yue blinked: “Duanxian?”
“Yes indeed!” Lingsu was about to die of anger, tears welling up: “She was the one who said not to steal customers, acting so high and mighty before, and now in the blink of an eye she comes to steal yours. What’s that about?”
Look at that little face, all red with anger. Feng Yue smiled, pulling her onto her lap and taking some mung bean cakes from nearby to comfort her: “Let’s not be angry. Your master didn’t want to serve him anyway, so it’s good that the patron left. The silver’s already been paid, and if he doesn’t come, we’re not the ones losing out.”
“But…”
“Be good, Lingsu.” Patting her head, Feng Yue said: “Men, you see, don’t take them too seriously. Who knows what they’re thinking? Today they’re good to this one, tomorrow to that one—it’s all normal. If you care too much, you’re only hurting yourself, understand?”
Lingsu stopped crying, looking at her somewhat bewildered.
Guanzhi at the door didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, rubbing his nose as he said: “Miss, not all men in the world are like that. Lingsu is still young, how can you teach her such things?”
Looking up at him, Feng Yue raised an eyebrow: “Does the young master have other instructions?”
“Well…” Guanzhi didn’t know what had gotten into his master suddenly, but as a servant, he could only follow orders, no matter how unreasonable. Reluctantly, he said: “Master says he’s hungry and wants you to make some food and send it over.”
Make food and send it to another courtesan’s room? Feng Yue clicked her tongue, and couldn’t help clapping: “Your master knows how to torment people.”
“Why should we?!” Lingsu jumped up, baring her teeth at Guanzhi: “If he’s hungry, let Duanxian’s people cook. My master is busy!”
Guanzhi forced a laugh, feeling somewhat guilty being glared at by a little girl who barely reached his chest.
Feng Yue shrugged, resignedly standing up: “Alright, he’s paid the silver, and if he doesn’t eat it, I’ll eat it. Since something has to be eaten, might as well be food.”
Hope he chokes on it!
Yin Gezhi waited in Duanxian’s room as she played the qin, but somehow she had already missed several notes, causing the Crown Prince’s brow to furrow, his expression turning ugly.
Duanxian wanted to cry. She was truly curious how Feng Yue served this lord—he was full of killing intent, making people afraid to approach, and his face was completely expressionless, impossible to tell if he was pleased or not.
Not being able to read his emotions would have been fine, but ever since she started playing the qin, this lord was clearly displeased, his look of disdain like daggers stabbing at her heart.
She was Duanxian! The most skilled qin player in all of Menghui Tower, somewhat famous even in Bu Yin City, yet she was being looked down upon like this.
“You might as well stop playing,” Yin Gezhi spoke.
The qin music stopped abruptly. Duanxian’s face flushed red as she stammered: “Does Young Master not like this piece?”
He didn’t answer her. Yin Gezhi simply stood up, took the qin from in front of her, casually placed it on the table, and waved his hand to play a few notes.
The tender, lingering feminine notes became desolate sounds of war and horses in his hands. Duanxian was shocked, but Yin Gezhi didn’t continue playing.
“It’s not the qin’s problem,” he said this one sentence, then released the qin and went to lie on the soft couch.
The room instantly fell into dead silence.
When Feng Yue entered Duanxian’s room with dishes balanced on her head, she saw Duanxian looking ashen, as if she’d received a massive blow, leaning to one side and staring at her with blank eyes.
What had happened here?
Placing the dishes on the table, Feng Yue looked toward Yin Gezhi, who lazily got up and slowly began to eat.
“Did you make this?” After a few bites, Yin Gezhi asked.
Feng Yue shamelessly nodded: “Didn’t you ask this servant to make food?”
This servant just instructed the kitchen maid to make it.
She didn’t dare say this out loud, knowing that once she did, given his love for tormenting people, he would make her cook again.
Frowning as he put down his chopsticks, Yin Gezhi looked up and said very displeasedly: “It tastes awful!”
“If it tastes awful, then eat less. It’s late enough, time for bed anyway.” Completely unbothered, Feng Yue waved for Lingsu to help clear the bowls and dishes, then turned to leave.
Yin Gezhi sat with a face dark as water, the chopsticks in his hand being viciously snatched away by Lingsu, the dishes in front of him disappearing in an instant.
Such audacity, giving him attitude? Yin Gezhi glared at Feng Yue’s retreating figure until the door closed, then turned his head elsewhere, letting out a light snort as his expression softened.
Duanxian watched in a daze, not understanding why Feng Yue wasn’t afraid of this lord, and why he seemed to have no intention of holding it against her. Treating a patron like this, wasn’t she afraid of losing his favor?
She simply didn’t understand Yin Gezhi well enough. Someone like Feng Yue who saw through him knew that Yin Gezhi never gave anyone his favor, so how could she lose what was never there?
Sitting at her dressing table removing her hairpieces, Feng Yue lowered her eyes and noticed two new golden hairpins on the table.
“Where did these come from?”
Lingsu glanced at them and snorted: “Mama Jin gave them. Said you had too few ornaments and with more customers lately, she wanted to add a couple of hairpins.”
Picking up the hairpins to examine them, they were finely crafted with high-quality materials. Rare for Mama Jin to be so generous, finally not using inferior goods as substitutes. Feng Yue nodded, put down the hairpins, yawned, and went to bed.
In the other room, Yin Gezhi lay composed on the bed, paying no attention to Duanxian. The poor girl stood beside the bed, gathering her courage ten times but never daring to climb onto it. Seeing this lord showed no urgency for her either, after much consideration, Duanxian still went to sleep on the soft couch.
Yin Gezhi frowned, thinking how this girl had none of Feng Yue’s perceptiveness. If it were that little demon, she would have pounced on him to seduce him long ago, without him having to make any effort.
Turning to sleep facing the inner bed, Yin Gezhi thought he should change to a different courtesan tomorrow—this one was truly too boring.
The next morning, Feng Yue woke up after a good sleep, washed and dressed herself, and then went to prepare lunch. Though she no longer had to serve that lord, she hadn’t forgotten about his two young disciples. They were noble young masters—she couldn’t slack on their meals.
Lingsu put her old hairpins in her hair, and Feng Yue pouted: “Silly girl, why use old ones when we have new ones? Wear these!”
Reluctantly changing the hairpins for her, Lingsu muttered quietly: “These two hairpins aren’t even that pretty. When this servant saves enough silver, I’ll buy master an even better one!”
Looking at her touch, Feng Yue sighed to the heavens: “To think someone would be filial to me, how happy I am!”