Jiang Ling stood outside the entrance to Pingkang Quarter, staring at the lavishly dressed, heavily painted women ahead, who were laughing as they beckoned in customers — and felt his legs go soft beneath him.

Behind him stood two slight, sallow-faced servants with small mustaches. One was frowning and tugging irritably at his own facial hair; the other had eyes blazing with eagerness, looking like he could barely wait to go inside.

Jiang Ling stared at them.

He was the one who was actually a man here — so why were they more enthusiastic than he was?

These two “servants” were, of course, Ming Huashang and Ren Yao in disguise. The Yueman Pavilion, being a Xuan Xiaowei safe house, had everything — disguise supplies and hidden weapons included. All five of them had equipped themselves with weapons; Ming Huashang and Ren Yao had dressed as men, and then they had split into two groups to converge at Tiānxiāng Pavilion.

This was Ming Huashang’s first time working with disguise supplies, and she found it utterly fascinating. But a face could be altered; a voice and a bone structure could not. Anyone with experience could see through the disguise at a glance.

Being seen through was not particularly problematic. Noblewomen’s maids dressing as men was in vogue; a wealthy young gentleman bringing his female attendants to a brothel for an evening’s entertainment was not at all unusual. All they needed to do was make sure the people of Tiānxiāng Pavilion never got a clear look at their real faces.

Tiānxiāng Pavilion and the great noble houses had little to do with each other — but the capital was about to be moved back, and the Ming family and the Ren family would both be returning to Chang’an. Given enough time, who could guarantee there would never be some accident bringing Tiānxiāng Pavilion and the Duke Zhenguo Residence or Marquis Pingnan’s Estate into contact?

Should that ever happen, the consequences would be entirely beyond control. Ming Huashang would eventually move out of the Duke Zhenguo Residence and cared nothing for her supposed “reputation” — but there was no point in adding complications where none were needed. Better to cut off the problem at the root.

Ming Huashang was fairly burning with curiosity about the brothel — she had never seen one in her life and was genuinely fascinated. She was desperate to go inside, but Jiang Ling was standing there as if nailed to the ground and showed no sign of moving. Ming Huashang looked at him narrowly: “What are you waiting for?”

The expression on Jiang Ling’s face was deeply conflicted. He was fun-loving, true — free with money, keeping a wildcat and a cheetah and strutting about wherever he pleased — but that was one thing. Going to a brothel or forcing himself on women was something else entirely.

At his most idle and self-indulgent, he was doing nothing worse than taking his beloved pets hunting in the hills. He had never once entertained the thought of using women for amusement, and now here he was, “on official duty” at a brothel — with two unmarried young women in tow.

Jiang Ling was deeply, painfully uncomfortable. His voice dropped lower and lower: “You’re both women. Going to a place like this — what sort of behavior is that?”

Ren Yao, patience exhausted, snapped: “If we’re going in, let’s go. Stop dithering.”

“Exactly — we don’t care ourselves, so why are you fussing?” Ming Huashang studied Jiang Ling with dawning comprehension, then said, “You’ve never actually been before, have you? You’re scared.”

Jiang Ling was furious: “Who said I was scared? I’ve been here plenty of times! I’m only saying this for your benefit. If this is what you want, then don’t regret it afterward.”

With that, Jiang Ling squared his shoulders and walked toward Pingkang Quarter — the picture of noble resolve, like a man marching willingly to his own execution.

Pingkang Quarter was bordered to the east by the East Market, to the north by Chun Ming Main Street, and to the south by Xuanyang Quarter. Occupying a key position among the liveliest neighborhoods of the capital, it drew a dense concentration of high officials and powerful nobles from the surrounding area. Not far away stood the offices of the Six Ministries, and the quarter attracted large numbers of examination candidates, officials awaiting appointments, and visitors come to the capital from across the land.

Because of its exceptional location, Pingkang Quarter saw a great deal of traffic from the music and entertainments industry, which in turn drew even more pleasure-seeking young men. Over time, the area became a gathering place for every sort of pleasure house, alive with music and laughter through the night — the city within Chang’an that never slept.

The moment Jiang Ling stepped into Pingkang Quarter, he felt as though he had tumbled from the city’s solemn grandeur into an entirely different world. The lanterns on either side glowed amber and suggestive. Drumbeats and Hu melodies struck out into the night air with unabashed warmth. The very atmosphere carried the thick, sweet scent of powder and perfume. Women in gauzy, revealing clothing caught sight of him, gave teasing smiles, and some bold ones reached out to take hold of him.

Jiang Ling recoiled as if from something searing and jumped to take cover behind Ming Huashang and Ren Yao. Ming Huashang cursed silently and hissed under her breath: “Didn’t you say you come here all the time? What is this?”

Jiang Ling kept up appearances with impressive stubbornness: “I do come, all the time — but you two are supposed to be my servants, and servants are supposed to clear the path ahead when the situation calls for it. Otherwise people will see through our cover.”

Ming Huashang did not believe a word of it. She shoved at Jiang Ling: “Propriety demands I walk behind my master — how can I let the young master go last? You go first!”

Both of them were trying to push the other forward as a shield, when the women nearby spotted Jiang Ling’s fresh-faced good looks and obvious wealth, and exchanged a look with each other — then surged toward the three of them in a wave, laughing sweetly and trying to pull them into their respective establishments: “First time here, young master? The ladies in our house love new customers — come in and have a look!”

Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling were busy trying to make each other go first and were caught completely off guard in the sudden wash of powder and perfume. Both were nearly swept away together. In the crisis, it was Ren Yao who proved her worth — she grabbed one with each hand and physically hauled them out of the swirl.

Ming Huashang had never run so hard in her life. She finally wrenched free from all the hands coming at her from every direction and stopped, gasping for breath against a wall, her heart still hammering.

She looked up at Jiang Ling. He looked even more bedraggled than she did, his clothes and hair in disarray, like a delicate flower that had been through a storm.

For some reason Ming Huashang felt a pang of sympathy for him. She patted him on the shoulder and said, “I didn’t expect you to be so popular with the ladies. If you ever run out of money, at least you’d have a trade to fall back on here.”

Jiang Ling, without the slightest humor: “Get lost.”

Ren Yao rolled her eyes. “Are you two really in the mood to joke right now? We have no idea where we are anymore. How are we supposed to find Tiānxiāng Pavilion?”

Ming Huashang straightened the mustache that had been knocked sideways and said, “Simple — we head toward wherever the crowd is thinnest. That should get us there quickly enough.”

Jiang Ling frowned: “Why?”

“Because everyone who comes to Pingkang Quarter is here to have a good time,” Ming Huashang said. “Tiānxiāng Pavilion had a death just last night, and the authorities were called in today. Customers will consider that bad luck and won’t want to go near the place for a while. So we just follow the emptiness.”

Ren Yao thought this made sense. She had excellent eyesight and leaned against the wall for a better look, then pointed in one direction: “Over there — do you see how everyone seems to be avoiding that area?”

Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling both craned their heads, one high and one low, and indeed spotted a three-storied building of carved beams and painted eaves. It was one of the grandest structures in all of Pingkang Quarter — yet at this moment its entrance stood empty and abandoned.

Ming Huashang felt a flicker of confidence: “That might be Tiānxiāng Pavilion. Let’s go take a look.”

The experience a moment ago still had all three of them rattled. Instead of the main road, they kept to the edges and crept carefully in the direction of the pavilion. When the three furtive shadows had moved far enough away, two other figures slipped out from the darkness.

Xie Jichuan gave a quiet laugh and said, “If you’re worried, why not make them wait outside? At worst, when the mission is over, we go back and tell Han Jie everyone worked on it together.”

That was in fact the simplest and most cautious approach. Bringing two unmarried young women into a brothel was frankly reckless; if word got out, Ming Huashang and Ren Yao would never be able to arrange a proper marriage, and the shadow over their reputations would likely follow them for the rest of their lives.

And setting aside reputation entirely — Tiānxiāng Pavilion now stood on the eve of a storm, with dangerous undercurrents running deep. Sending two women inside was no different from gambling with their lives.

For both reputation and safety, there was nothing to gain and everything to lose from going in. By every measure, this was not the behavior of someone looking after his younger sister.

Ming Huazhang knew all of this. He stood watching the slender figure ahead of him — still watching even now — and in his heart regret surfaced: he should not have let her be part of this; he should have found a safe house and settled her and Ren Yao inside it, then gone back for them once the mission was complete.

But Ming Huazhang ultimately held back the impulse to call them back and said quietly: “It’s not what they want.”

Ming Huazhang understood Ren Yao’s reasons for joining the Xuan Xiaowei. Ren Yao wanted to inherit the marquessate and be granted the title of Marquis Pingnan as a woman — something that had never been done before, something that would overturn the world’s expectations. Without the backing of those in power, no amount of connections or gifts would move a thing.

This mission, therefore, carried extraordinary weight for Ren Yao. If she had to step back from her very first assignment simply because a woman could not conveniently enter a brothel, what would she build her future cases on? So when she heard that the three of them were to be the visible front of the operation at Tiānxiāng Pavilion, Ren Yao had agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

She wanted to achieve something. She wanted desperately to prove herself, and Ming Huazhang understood. Because he understood, he could not bring himself to take that from her.

As for Ming Huashang — she had none of Ren Yao’s grand ambitions. She simply wanted to know how the man had died and who had killed him. Ming Huazhang had a responsibility to protect her — but did she truly need that kind of protection?

Protection at every turn was, in its own way, a form of contempt. Ming Huazhang swallowed down the guilt, the worry, the agitation that threatened to swamp him — and let go, placing his trust in her ability to face difficulty and danger on her own terms.

Xie Jichuan listened, then let out a short laugh: “Soft-hearted as always.”

Ming Huazhang made no comment and said instead, “They’ve entered Tiānxiāng Pavilion. Get ready. Time for the next step.”

At that moment, standing before the ornately carved red building, Ming Huashang and her two companions could now clearly see the three characters of the signboard above the main gate — “Tiānxiāng Pavilion” — and were quite certain this was the right place. Compared with the other brightly adorned establishments all around it, Tiānxiāng Pavilion was eerily quiet. In the end, it was Jiang Ling who gave a deliberate cough and asked, in an artificially loud voice: “Say — why is this place’s door empty of people?”

After this conspicuous question from Jiang Ling, there was a rush from inside, and a crowd of people poured out. At their head was a plump woman, some thirty years of age, with a full, round face and a richly fleshed figure, a great red peony flower pinned into her hair. Her features were not without their appeal, but her skin had already lost its firmness, and fine lines had even gathered at the corners of her eyes. For her age, she had aged somewhat more quickly than might be expected, and this diminished the overall impression considerably — though she was not without a certain lingering charm.

The woman’s eyes lit up the instant they landed on Jiang Ling, and she came gliding out with a coquettish smile, the flesh on her body quivering with each step: “Goodness, an honored guest, and we failed to meet you at the door! What a lapse on our part, dear customer. I don’t recognize your face, young master — is this your first visit?”

As she spoke, she could not resist reaching out and giving Jiang Ling’s cheek an appreciative little pat, then covering her lips with a giggle: “What a handsome young man! It’s been a long time since we’ve had a young gentleman quite as fine-looking as this.”

In that instant, Jiang Ling felt his last meal rising toward his throat. He turned ice-cold, spun on his heel to leave, and was caught and pinned in place by Ming Huashang and Ren Yao from either side.

Ming Huashang “supported” her young master with solicitous helpfulness and took the initiative to ask on his behalf: “Our young master is new to Chang’an. He has come to Pingkang Quarter for a bit of entertainment. Do you have anything novel and amusing here?”

The madam’s eyes brightened another degree at Ming Huashang’s words. Young, first time in Chang’an, here for entertainment — her gaze toward Jiang Ling grew warmer and more covetous by the second. However one looked at it, this was a plump, bleating lamb waiting to be shorn.

The madam smiled: “We do, of course we do! This is not idle boasting — in the whole of Pingkang Quarter, there is no establishment more novel and more entertaining than our Tiānxiāng Pavilion. Young master, it’s cold out here — why not step inside for a cup of wine to warm yourself?”

Jiang Ling very much wanted to say “I’m not cold, I don’t want wine, get out of my way” — but his body was no longer his own to command. He had absolutely no desire to enter, yet found himself hauled inside by his dutiful attendants.

The madam, seeing Jiang Ling come through the door, smiled with such force her eyes disappeared. She hurried through the main hall and called out with a cooing laugh: “Girls! A fine guest has arrived — come downstairs and receive him!”

Ming Huashang could not hold him back, but Ren Yao — a proper tomboy with a grip of iron — had Jiang Ling by the arm. He was still wrestling with her when he looked up, and directly into a great wave of colorful, brightly painted women bearing down on him, waving handkerchiefs. Jiang Ling went rigid with fright and instinctively clung to the nearest person: “What are you doing?! Stay back!”

The women, after an entire day with no customers, had put everything into landing this prize — only for the prize to throw himself into the arms of a man standing nearby. If he’d been beautiful, perhaps — but this was a scrawny, sallow, small and homely-looking fellow.

The smiles on their faces froze. The entire Tiānxiāng Pavilion seemed to be suspended by some mysterious force. Fortunately, Ming Huashang recovered quickly: “Our young master has been raised in the lap of luxury and has very high standards — common faces and ordinary looks won’t do for him. Go and bring out the best your establishment has to offer.”

The madam heard the sense in this. One look at the young man’s bearing and manner told her he had been raised in wealth from birth; a mediocre face would never satisfy someone like that. She was increasingly certain this was a great catch that must not be allowed to get away, and gestured for the women to go back upstairs: “I’ve been careless. What are you all standing there for? Quickly — fetch the Jinling Spring up here and send it to the Guanghan Moonlit Courtyard. Don’t keep our honored guest waiting.”

Then, turning back to Jiang Ling with a broad smile, she said, “Young master, our finest private rooms are on the second floor. Please, follow me.”

Jiang Ling had been marched onto a stage he had no idea how to walk off. He had no choice but to let out a light sound of disdain, straighten his clothes, raise his chin, and saunter upstairs.

Ren Yao followed at Jiang Ling’s side, with the madam and the women behind them. Ming Huashang fell back a few steps and brought up the rear, using the opportunity to take in the layout of Tiānxiāng Pavilion.

The establishment appeared to pursue an air of artistic refinement, and even the private rooms were named after wind, flowers, snow, and the moon. Tiānxiāng Pavilion had been built with considerable extravagance across three floors. The first floor was the broadest, with a stage at its center arranged like an open courtyard, drawing the eye from every corner of the building. Carved wood railings and potted flowers and plants surrounded the stage on all sides. Seating areas were arranged along the south, east, and west sides; at the back, on the north side, stood a large landscape-painting screen.

The second and third floors were for residence, built running east to west around the stage, with corridors and private rooms. Open any of the windows and you could look down at the performances below. But to preserve sightlines to the stage, the corridors on the east and west sides of the second and third floors were not connected — they faced each other across the open center like two painted boats gazing at each other across a silver river.

The second floor was clearly more elaborately decorated, the rooms larger — these would be the premium rooms for important patrons. The third floor had dense, smaller rooms packed together, most likely the private quarters where the women of the establishment lived.

Ming Huashang climbed the stairs. The Guanghan Moonlit Courtyard was on the west side of the second floor near the north end — not far from the staircase. When Ming Huashang entered, she found Jiang Ling already very thoroughly settled in.

In the blink of an eye, the table had been spread with fine wine and food, and an array of women of various charms and figures were arranged before him, diffusing their allure without the least subtlety. The madam was enthusiastically introducing each one in turn, praising them as if they had no equal beneath heaven or on earth.

The intended recipient of all this allure appeared, however, slightly distracted. He noticed Ming Huashang coming in and was frantically signaling with his eyes, silently pleading for rescue.

Ming Huashang seemed not to notice. She stood by the door, listening attentively as the madam described each of the women in turn, nodding along at intervals as though she were genuinely weighing her options.

Jiang Ling was ready to fall over backward in indignation. What was she nodding for? She was selecting women, and women were no use to him — he was going to be the one who suffered. The madam introduced all of the women, talking until her throat was dry. She looked at Jiang Ling in hopeful expectation, waiting for him to make his choice.

Jiang Ling’s eyelids were almost spasming. He hummed and hawed and finally said, “This — could you say it again? I didn’t catch it.”

The madam drew a very slow breath inward. Ming Huashang was bracing herself for the madam to say “beat them” on the very next line — and hastily cut in: “What our young master means is that all of these ladies are too ordinary. Do you have better?”

The madam’s expression visibly darkened: “We have so many women here, every last one a cornerstone of our Tiānxiāng Garden, and your young master is pleased with not a single one?”

Jiang Ling clearly had to nod. But seeing the row of faces across from him cloud over further, Ren Yao with lightning reflexes shoved up under Jiang Ling’s chin to stop him, and said with a rigid smile: “It’s not that — only we want the one who is most popular right now.”

The madam fluttered to the woman at the front of the line, arms windmilling, so fast that Ren Yao almost fancied she could see the powder shaking loose: “Shān Chá is the most popular! Just go out and ask — who in all of Pingkang Quarter doesn’t know our Shān Chá?”

Shān Chá herself, having been lumped in with “ordinary faces and common looks,” was not pleased either. She twisted her handkerchief with passive-aggressive precision: “Indeed. If it weren’t for the shortage of customers today, you couldn’t even get me here by asking. The young master humiliates me like this — is he mocking me?”

Ming Huashang spotted the opening and pressed in at once: “You’re not making sense. If you’re the most sought-after woman in all of Pingkang Quarter, why is there not a single person here today to appreciate you?”

Shān Chá flushed red, stamped her foot sharply, and swished out with her handkerchief: “Madam, this customer’s standards are impossibly high and I cannot possibly rise to them. Please ask Yu Qiong elder sister instead.”

Jiang Ling, Ren Yao, and Ming Huashang exchanged a swift glance. They had all heard the key name — Yu Qiong.

The madam, who had just watched these visitors drive away her new favorite star, grit her teeth in barely concealed irritation: “Young master, we treat you as an honored guest — that is why we go out of our way to please you. But you set such an impossible standard, and you permit your attendants to insult people — don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

This time Jiang Ling required absolutely no acting. His brow arched, and in a flash the young tyrant of Luoyang was right there in the room: “Who do you think you’re speaking to? My attendants are worth more than anyone else here, even at their lowest — who gave you the right to lecture me?”

Before he could finish, he was pinched sharply. His arm erupted in pain and he barely managed to keep a straight face. He looked at Ren Yao in disbelief. Ren Yao gave him a look brimming with deadly warning.

Who exactly was calling whom a dog here?

Jiang Ling felt this woman was completely unreasonable — that wasn’t the point! Thankfully there was still Ming Huashang; by comparison, she was the reasonable, big-picture one between the two. A genuine little fairy!

He had barely finished the thought when he heard Ming Huashang let out an outraged cry, planting both fists on her hips with impressive conviction: “How dare you! Do you know who you’re addressing?”

The madam was startled by their alternating bursts of temper, and her mind began to calculate.

Chang’an was large, and yet in some ways quite small. The nobly born young men of standing in the capital could be counted on one hand. This particular young master was fresh-faced and well-bred enough, yet she had never seen him before. He was likely nothing more than some wealthy merchant’s son, newly arrived to see what the world had to offer. What real standing could he have?

With this settled in her mind, the madam stiffened a little and raised her chin: “How embarrassing for me — my eyes have failed me and I have not recognized the young master’s distinction. Would the young master be so kind as to enlighten me, so I might learn something today?”

This came across as a smiling rebuke with a cutting edge, her eyes sliding sideways and downward in practiced disdain. Ming Huashang gave a cold smile. She was dressed as a servant, her features made sallow and plain, yet something in the way she spoke made the madam reluctant to meet her gaze.

The madam inwardly cursed the strangeness of it. She had pinned up her hair as an entertainer at twelve, become a top courtesan at fourteen, and at thirty had risen to run the establishment herself. She had met more people than these youngsters had eaten bowls of rice. She had lived her whole life tumbling through the world of pleasure, had brought up several generations of “daughters” — and she had long since seen through the truth: this quietly spoken, slightly built, cross-dressed attendant was in fact a young woman.

But what of it? Whoever came with a man to a brothel could only be one thing: a favored maidservant throwing her weight around. A moment ago, why had she felt that flicker of unease?

The madam was still puzzling over it when she registered that she had fallen slightly behind, and caught the tail end of what Ming Huashang was saying: “If I told you, I’d be afraid of frightening you to death. Our young master is the legitimate eldest son of the Marquis Jiang’an — a title properly conferred by the court in its own right — the Heir to the Jiang’an Marquessate!”

Jiang Ling nodded along vigorously in wholehearted agreement — then caught himself, bewildered, and stared at Ming Huashang: “Hmm?”

Ren Yao quietly turned her face away and covered it with her hand. Heaven be thanked that she was a woman; if they used the name of Marquis Pingnan’s Estate in a place like this, her grandmother would kill her.

The madam gaped, looking at Jiang Ling, and her words came out stuttering: “Jiang — the Jiang’an Marquessate’s Heir?”

“That’s right,” Ming Huashang said, one eyebrow arched and gaze descending. “Surely you aren’t going to claim you haven’t heard of the Marquis Jiang’an?”

The madam would not have dared! Although the Empress was no longer in Chang’an, a great concentration of powerful noble families still resided here, watching every movement from the court. If anyone were to name the single most influential person at court right now, the answer was debatable — but the most favored was without question Princess Taiping.

The Marquis Jiang’an was among Princess Taiping’s most trusted confidants. Tiānxiāng Pavilion was a small business that lived and died by what the heavens sent its way — it could not afford to offend the heir of the Marquis Jiang’an.

The madam’s expression executed a complete reversal. The lines on her face bunched together as her smile spread until her eyes were invisible: “Forgive me for failing to recognize such a distinguished guest! Please forgive my lapse, your lordship!” Then, shooting a sharp look at the women: “What are you all still standing there for? Hurry and fetch the Jinling Spring — bring it to the Guanghan Moonlit Courtyard. Don’t keep the noble guest waiting.”

And then, turning back to face Jiang Ling with a smile stacked upon a smile: “Young master, our finest rooms are on the second floor — please, this way.”

Jiang Ling felt a grim and bottomless despair. He did not dare think about what his face would look like when news of this reached Luoyang and his father got hold of it. Jiang Ling faced the world with the expression of a man who had nothing left to live for, waved a hand without particular feeling, and said: “Very well. I’ve come to Chang’an for some amusement — I’d prefer not to attract notice. Make sure you lot don’t go running your mouths.”

The madam caught his meaning at once and switched her manner of address with practiced ease: “Of course, young master. Please do not worry — I will see to it that the servants are properly kept in line, so nothing disturbs your enjoyment.”

With that, she gave a meaningful look to those around her, and hurried away. Once everyone had gone, Jiang Ling immediately shed the swaggering act and leaned in close, keeping his voice low: “What are you doing?”

“Stay calm,” Ming Huashang said serenely as she sat down, poured herself a cup of wine, and took a measured sip. “Excellent wine, as expected. You were ordered to Chang’an by Princess Taiping to procure household furnishings — the whole capital knows you’re a dissolute wastrel. You couldn’t help yourself and came to Pingkang Quarter for a bit of entertainment; isn’t that perfectly consistent with your character?”

That was all true enough — but Ren Yao frowned: “But doesn’t this expose his identity?”

“What is there to fear?” Ming Huashang said. “He is himself, doing things that are entirely in keeping with who he is. If we tried to keep it hidden and were recognized later, that’s when suspicion would fall on us. Better to declare his name openly and boldly — truth mixed with deception, deception threaded through the truth, striking them blind in the light right under the lamp. That is what keeps us safest.”

Jiang Ling found this somewhat convincing. But then he tilted his head and looked at Ming Huashang in genuine puzzlement: “Ming Huazhang is also openly present in Chang’an right now. Why didn’t you use his name?”

Ming Huashang blinked and said, quite sincerely: “My Second Elder Brother is the finest young gentleman in the capital — how could I blacken my elder brother’s name like that?”

Jiang Ling ground his teeth, fingers itching: “So you’d blacken mine?”

“Ah, it doesn’t matter.” Ming Huashang made a sweeping, magnanimous gesture. “This kind of thing is afraid of the straightforward and open approach. Whoever killed Zhang Zi Yun very likely never left this building, and now that you’ve announced your identity, they won’t dare do anything to you. You trade a reputation for safety — an excellent bargain. At worst, your father gives you a beating, you get a bad name, and finding a good match becomes slightly harder.”

Jiang Ling stared at her for a long, hollow moment and said: “Do you hear yourself?”