Eyes, pairs of detestable eyes.

The purest, most beautiful dance, yet watched and appraised like a plaything by the most nauseating evil gazes.

Bao Zhu silently vowed: This humiliation must be washed clean with blood.

Beautiful young men were not rare to the powerful elite—many had even grown weary of physical beauty. But a filthy, bloody secret, the forbidden thrill of desecrating the sacred, could stir the darkest desires of human hearts, exciting these hungry ghosts until they could barely sit still.

When the dance ended, Bao Zhu and Mi Moyan knelt in worship toward the northern seat of honor according to custom. Fortunately, there was no requirement to circle around begging for rewards.

Under Mi Moyan’s careful guidance, Bao Zhu had mastered most techniques of the zhezhi dance, lacking only the essential fawning attitude required for entertaining guests. Cold indifference was the most peaceful expression she could manage. Fortunately, Li Yu believed that auspicious persons must possess distinctive qualities; otherwise, her demeanor alone would have earned her countless scoldings and beatings.

As Prince Qi typically required, after the dance she returned to the covered corridor and knelt beside him. Luxurious banquet items were carried one by one into the prince’s mansion, the osmanthus fragrance so intense it was dizzying.

The Golden Osmanthus Banquet would be tonight. Both Bao Zhu and Li Yu, these two imperial descendants, focused their thoughts on the same moment in time, though their purposes were completely opposite.

Family Steward Dong Shiguang came before Li Yu to report in detail on the evening banquet preparations.

Li Yu listened patiently for a while, then asked: “What does Dou Jing say?”

Dong Shiguang replied cautiously: “The invitation has been sent twice. Same as last year, Prefect Dou replied that he’s aged and infirm, still unwell, and politely declined.”

Li Yu cursed angrily: “Slippery, cunning old fox!”

Listening nearby, Bao Zhu thought: Though the secret of this small circle hasn’t spread widely, given Dou Jing’s position, he must have investigated the general content of these banquets. With retirement approaching, he’s unwilling to soil himself by allying with the defeated Prince Qi, yet also reluctant to easily antagonize any imperial family member. He chooses self-preservation, claiming illness to avoid attendance. Truly an old bureaucratic fox who’s survived decades in officialdom.

After Dong Shiguang finished his report, he didn’t take leave but stood aside with obvious hesitation, seemingly having something difficult to say.

Seeing this, Li Yu asked: “What else?”

Dong Shiguang said softly: “The treasury accounts have been in deficit for six months straight. This banquet’s expenses…”

All-night feasting and revelry, countless household entertainers and musicians—Prince Qi had long indulged in such extravagant living. His first-rank noble salary and fief income could hardly sustain it. This year’s natural disasters had worsened the financial imbalance, something Princess Qi had reminded him about several times.

Li Yu poured a piece of aloeswood from a porcelain bottle beside him, chewing it as he asked irritably: “Why hasn’t that merchant surnamed Shen contacted us in so long?”

Dong Shiguang replied: “This matter is indeed strange. That man suddenly disappeared from his own residence some days ago. However, he previously promoted a subordinate surnamed Jia who can handle related affairs in his place.”

Li Yu said disdainfully: “All these timid, profit-seeking lowly merchants—quickly arrange the transaction and have him advance the money.”

Dong Shiguang looked slightly nervous, asking in near-whisper: “Still need to… still need to dismantle from there?”

Li Yu said matter-of-factly: “Those were left by my ancestors for this prince. Since no one uses them, however I dispose of them is proper. Selling two or three pieces won’t be noticed.”

Dong Shiguang replied respectfully: “Yes.”

The great drums rumbled as the banquet’s regular program, “Music of Emperor Qin Breaking the Formation,” began again. Li Yu had dramatically increased the number of dancers to sixty, with costume armor still being carefully crafted. To make a stunning impression at the Ultimate Pleasure Banquet, they still rehearsed in plain clothes.

The Juque Heavenly Bow and four feathered arrows had been rush-made, held by a heroic lead dancer portraying Emperor Taizong personally charging into battle. Li Yu nodded with satisfaction, immersed in pride from his imperial bloodline.

The moment she saw the bow and arrows, Bao Zhu’s ice-cold blood seemed instantly ignited.

She had concealed her abilities, endured humiliation, and waited in bitter patience for exactly this moment.

According to her carefully conceived plan, midway through the musical dance, she suggested to Prince Qi: “Your Majesty, I often hear that Emperor Taizong’s sister Princess Pingyang gathered heroes from Guanzhong into a ‘Lady’s Army’ to support her father and brothers’ uprising, achieving illustrious military merit. Why not have me portray Lady Li to add brilliance to the ‘Formation Breaking Music’?”

Hearing this, Li Yu found it quite interesting and said: “Go try it.”

Bao Zhu suppressed her joy and immediately stood, her leg shackles clanging. But just as she stepped out of the covered corridor, someone stepped on her chains.

Zhang Gougou, Prince Qi’s guard today, appeared behind her like a ghost, saying ominously: “Your Majesty, this woman has a history of injuring people. Perhaps it’s better not to let her touch weapons.”

Li Yu laughed loudly: “That heavenly bow is just a stage prop. Even the duty officers and commanders couldn’t draw a three-stone bow. A little girl like her would have trouble even lifting it.”

Though he said this, the four great arrows had quite sharp points. After a moment’s thought, Li Yu ultimately heeded Zhang Gougou’s counsel and prevented Cinnabar Bird from participating in the “Formation Breaking Music” rehearsal.

He had always been coldly ruthless toward servants and household entertainers. To avoid repeating the fates of Gao Cheng and An Lushan, he constantly guarded against their rebellions, not only keeping expert guards nearby but even avoiding placing dining knives on the table when eating, being extremely cautious.

“Focus on practicing your zhezhi dance. Other matters don’t concern you.”

Just one step away, her carefully planned scheme had failed completely. Bao Zhu felt chilled throughout, her spirit nearly shattered by cruel reality. Her hatred for this accomplice to tyranny surged like angry ocean waves.

The moon would rise, the sun would set, the mulberry bow and arrows would mean the complete extinction of royal bloodline. Couldn’t the prophecy Jade Pot shrieked before death be fulfilled through this?

Less than a day remained. She had carefully administered “poison” to Li Yu, but wouldn’t have time for that poison to take effect before boarding the ferry across the River of Forgetfulness. What other strategies remained?

The colorful lions shook their heads and swayed their tails on stage, as if mocking her incompetence. Bao Zhu murmured: “Missing the evil-warding beast.”

Li Yu, hard of hearing, didn’t catch it clearly and kicked her in displeasure, scolding: “Speak louder!”

“The lion dance is missing the evil-warding beast.”

In desperation, Bao Zhu decided to set one more hunting trap. If tonight was destined to be her death, perhaps at some distant future moment, this trap would activate naturally and avenge her.

The auspicious beast dance combining lions and evil-warding creatures was generally used only in grand Buddhist and Taoist ceremonies. If that lion had a bright yellow mane, it was the “Yellow Lion” dance—a sacred dance that Imperial Music Bureau performers could only perform when the emperor himself was present.

Prince Qi fell silent. He dismissed his attendants and asked in a deadly dangerous tone: “You’ve seen the Yellow Lion dance?”

Bao Zhu shook her head blankly, her eyes empty, like the trance-like soul-departing state of shamans during spirit possession.

“Then who told you lions should dance together with evil-warding beasts?”

“Heavenly beings taught me. She said: That’s what Your Majesty deserves.”

That’s what he deserved. That’s what he deserved. These thunderous words echoed repeatedly in Li Yu’s heart, revealing the painful obsession he couldn’t voice for twenty years.

“I cannot enjoy the Yellow Lion dance.” He suppressed that extreme disappointment, saying with feigned calm.

Bao Zhu pretended to just now come to her senses, asking with innocent naivety: “But that lion is multicolored, isn’t it?”

Li Yu stared blankly at the auspicious beast tumbling and leaping on stage, softly repeating: “Yes, it’s multicolored.”

As long as it wasn’t a yellow lion, it should be fine, right? Didn’t the city patrols also feature performances of colored lions and evil-warding beasts together? A dance that all common people of Luoyang could enjoy—why couldn’t it be secretly performed once in Prince Qi’s mansion? Hadn’t the Goddess of Mercy that ten thousand people looked up to and worshipped ultimately fallen into his hands?

Prince Qi gazed at Cinnabar Bird, filled with desire for her mysterious words and actions. Even without the drug, he wanted to keep her by his side as a caged pet that could speak auspicious words, to fondle and appreciate daily.

But tonight was the Ultimate Pleasure Banquet—his wild celebration needed a beautiful sacrifice. Li Yu knew clearly that all performances were merely accompaniment; the final sacrifice was what guests truly yearned for, and the core secret of their alliance.

Li Yu felt an extremely rare emotion called reluctance. Before obtaining the Great Joy Powder to possess her, he was unwilling to share this unique good omen with others.

The training matron from Nishang Academy approached and silently knelt at a respectful distance. It was time for the slave girls to change clothes, touch up makeup, eat, and wash their hands. Their only difference from furniture was requiring such troublesome maintenance.

Li Yu waved his hand, ordering Zhang Gougou to unlock the chains and send someone to escort Cinnabar Bird back. His gaze followed her retreating figure intently until it disappeared beyond the vermillion-painted gate, his eyes unable to look away for a long time.

Dong Shiguang had long noticed his master’s attachment. No matter how much they threatened the pharmacy keeper, distant herb-gathering always required time. Before his master could possess that girl, he was unwilling to consume her prematurely at the Golden Osmanthus Banquet.

Guessing his master’s intentions, Dong Shiguang approached and whispered to Li Yu: “Perhaps we shouldn’t have her perform tonight?”

Li Yu stared at the vermillion gate, murmuring: “An Ultimate Pleasure Banquet without a Goddess of Mercy slave? How would that differ from an ordinary banquet?”

Dong Shiguang gently reminded: “Isn’t there another Goddess of Mercy slave?”

Li Yu was slightly startled, remembering the golden-haired youth who danced with Cinnabar Bird. They hadn’t used him that year because his appearance was still developing—after castration, he couldn’t get out of bed for a long time, so they had to substitute a beauty at the last minute.

That foreign boy had grown quite beautiful now. Actually, gender didn’t matter much to them—as long as they were beautiful enough, depraved and bloody enough.

Night fell like a black curtain slowly descending, despair shrouding the entire world. Bao Zhu and Mi Moyan both waited in their room. The small table was laden with many exquisite dishes, like a final meal, emanating the scent of offerings for the dead.

For the first time in her life, Bao Zhu couldn’t eat anything.

All desperate struggles had failed. She could think of no other strategies. When power grew strong enough to crush everything, schemes became like ants trying to shake great trees, mantises blocking chariots—merely laughable.

Tears constantly streamed down Mi Moyan’s delicate face, but Bao Zhu felt no urge to cry. During these days, she had grown accustomed to swallowing humiliation and anger, no longer expressing or venting through such means.

“I will remember you,” she said, grasping Mi Moyan’s hand.

Mi Moyan forced a smile, comforting: “I’ll accompany you in the partner dance. We’re teammates.”

Bao Zhu firmly refused: “No. If someone comes to rescue me later… tell him who deserves to die. When he acts, you escape in the chaos and leave Luoyang.”

Candlelight flickered outside the door—four armed guards had arrived. To avoid impropriety, adult men normally wouldn’t enter the inner quarters. They came to escort the Goddess of Mercy slave: on their tray were brocade heavenly robes, lotus crowns, jade arm rings, and other luxurious clothing and jewelry.

Bao Zhu stood to receive the death warrant, her legs trembling uncontrollably. In this state, did she still have strength to maintain dignity to the end?

“Not for you.” The lead guard pointed expressionlessly at Mi Moyan. “You, put these on and go perform at the evening banquet.”

Both froze simultaneously. When they realized what happened, Mi Moyan jumped up, pushed Bao Zhu aside, and eagerly took the items from the tray.

Bao Zhu asked in shock: “But I’m this year’s Goddess of Mercy slave!”

The guard said coldly: “These are the master’s orders.” He entered the room and locked Bao Zhu to the bed with prepared chains.

Then he ordered Mi Moyan: “Hurry and change. The guests are waiting.” The door remained open, and to prevent accidents, they stood guard at the entrance watching closely. After all, this year’s chosen sacrifice was a male with all limbs intact—if he struggled desperately, they might need some forceful persuasion.

But Mi Moyan showed no resistance whatsoever. Under everyone’s gaze, he calmly undressed completely and put on the heavenly robes from the tray, then donned the hair crown and arm rings. He removed his shoes, going barefoot as he put on the golden ankle bells.

The dim, cramped little room was illuminated by the young Goddess of Mercy’s radiance. Bare-chested with lower garments, a light veil wrapped around his chest and draped over his left shoulder. Bao Zhu had long known Mi Moyan was far more beautiful than herself, but never imagined he would be so brilliantly dazzling in these heavenly garments.

Supremely magnificent, like crystal glass, dignified as a deity, clear and luminous.

“I’ve waited three years for this moment.”

After hearing the news, Mi Moyan actually calmed down, peaceful as if merely going to perform a routine dance.

“Having passed through this tribulation, I can leave the human world and truly ascend to heaven.”

About to be freed from long fear and suffering, he showed a serene smile, his expression as tranquil as a bodhisattva statue, radiating transcendent composure.

Think harder! What other ingenious strategies! Plans to overturn heaven and earth! Miracles that could save people from fire and flood! Under intense despair’s shroud, Bao Zhu collapsed to the ground, trembling too much to stand, her mind completely blank.

Fate’s cruel joke—Li Yu temporarily couldn’t bear to kill her, so all her self-rescue methods ultimately resulted in another person’s sacrifice.

Mi Moyan turned around unhurriedly, preparing to leave the room. In past days, he had always sorrowfully seen those girls off to their doom. This time, he could finally set his heart at ease and go personally.

“Wait!” Bao Zhu called behind him. Mi Moyan turned back, looking at her questioningly. The guards also watched her warily.

“Wait, let me touch up your makeup once more.” As they had always helped each other, Bao Zhu took a rouge box from the small table and opened the lid. She dipped her finger in the red color and applied three finger-marks of rouge on Mi Moyan’s jade-white chest.

He asked puzzledly: “What’s this?”

“If we meet again in heaven someday, we need a recognition mark.” Bao Zhu said through gritted teeth.

Mi Moyan said calmly: “You’re right.” He also wanted to leave some memento for his roommate, but the clothes and jewelry didn’t belong to him. Having endured shame and degradation, his whole body was filthy with no clean place.

After thinking seriously for a moment, he pulled a strand of golden hair from his topknot. Having no sharp tool, he singed it with the candle flame and handed it to Bao Zhu.

“Farewell.”

Escorted by four armed guards, the brilliantly radiant youth departed with calm composure. The clear sound of golden bells gradually faded with him into the night’s silence.