Meng Yangqiu knew Ji Bozai's romantic entanglements intimately—every scandalous whisper, every discarded lover. So when his friend spoke with that particular tone of dismissal, the tension melted from his shoulders. "In that case, I'll let them conduct their inspection."
"Good."
The two men strolled through the moonlit courtyard, their footsteps muffled against stone pathways. When Meng Yangqiu confirmed they were truly alone, he leaned closer, voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Lately, troubles multiply in Muxing City like weeds after rain. Exercise caution. Those women at tonight's banquet—none are suitable to bring into your home."
Ji Bozai waved away the concern with aristocratic indifference. "Women are inherently creatures of gentleness, blessed with slender waists and graceful movements. How could such delicate beings possibly commit the ruthless acts you're imagining?"
Meng Yangqiu shot him a look sharp enough to cut silk. "Beware of unexpected pitfalls, my friend."
"I appreciate the auspicious blessing," Ji Bozai replied, punctuating his words with a languorous yawn. "Though truthfully, I'd welcome a captivating enchantress appearing in my life—someone fascinating enough to command my complete attention and spare all others from my wandering interests."
"You and your ridiculous notions."
After exchanging further playful barbs, the guards finally withdrew from the villa's perimeter.
Ji Bozai lingered in the courtyard, breathing in the night-blooming jasmine, before finally returning indoors.
Incense burned with hypnotic slowness in the chamber, releasing tendrils of sandalwood smoke. The beauty lay in repose, eyes peacefully closed. He studied her for an extended moment—not with the urgency of desire, but with something resembling curiosity. Moving with deliberate gentleness, he took her hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the slightly calloused fingertips that betrayed her dancer's profession.
Ming Yi slept deeply, consciousness suspended in wine-soaked fog. She didn't surface until noon the following day, when awareness returned accompanied by a pounding headache. A soft groan escaped her lips as she clutched her temples and forced herself upright.
The room stood empty.
Golden silk curtains cascaded from ceiling to floor. A wide rosewood bed dominated the space, its sheets carrying the lingering scent of an unfamiliar man—expensive cologne mingled with something distinctly masculine.
Alarm shot through Ming Yi like lightning. She immediately knelt upright, frantically attempting to reconstruct the previous night's events.
She remembered following Lord Ji back to his residence.
And then... what?
"You must possess remarkable fortune, young lady," a woman's voice announced as she swept the curtains aside. "The world outside descends into chaos, yet you continue sleeping past noon like a pampered princess."
Ming Yi whirled sharply, pressing herself against the bedpost while regarding the newcomer with wide-eyed confusion.
Xun Mama's lips curved into a knowing smirk at the girl's startled reaction. "How remarkably timid this one is."
She moved with brisk efficiency, straightening the disheveled bedding before unceremoniously pulling Ming Yi from the bed. "The lord departed for the inner courtyard at dawn and won't return for the midday meal. However, he'll be back come evening. You should prepare yourself appropriately."
Ming Yi stumbled as she was yanked forward, her knee connecting painfully with the bed frame. Color drained from her face, but not knowing this woman's position or temperament, she swallowed her protest and obediently settled at the dressing table.
Then she saw the items arrayed before her.
Instant alertness flooded through her wine-dulled senses.
Red jade earrings that caught light like captured flame. Black gold hairpins with dragons etched in microscopic detail. A peacock gold crown studded with sapphires that seemed to hold entire oceans. Jade bracelets carved so thin they appeared translucent. The treasures spread across the table like an emperor's ransom.
Each piece could feed a family for years.
Xun Mama's frown deepened at the greedy hunger flickering across the girl's features, her expression hardening to granite. "These ornaments are for you to wear."
The unspoken message rang crystal clear: They aren't yours. You merely borrow them.
Ming Yi lowered her gaze, carefully schooling her expression.
Of course. She was merely a plaything retrieved from a banquet, a decorative object meant to amuse temporarily. Not someone worthy of genuine wealth.
Gathering her composure like armor, she began preparing herself.
As a dancer, her entire existence revolved around being exquisitely adorned and visually pleasing. On this crucial first morning, she absolutely had to leave an indelible impression on the lord.
Based on last night's observations, Ji Bozai lived up to his legendary reputation—a connoisseur of beauty with particular fondness for delicate, feminine women. So without hesitation, Ming Yi selected light and understated jewelry, applied makeup with a feather-light touch, and arranged herself to appear as graceful and innocent as a sheltered young maiden.
Her gaze drifted to the bookshelf dominating one wall. She lifted her skirt and carefully selected the oldest, most worn volume—surely the lord's favorite. Then she reclined artfully on a couch positioned perfectly within view of the entrance, holding the book in one hand while gracefully manipulating an incense holder with the other.
The picture of cultured sophistication.
As Xun Mama moved past during her cleaning rounds, she glanced over and remarked flatly, "You're holding it upside down."
Ming Yi's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly. Without missing a beat, she casually rotated the book to its proper orientation and continued her performance of absorbed reading.
"Don't exhaust yourself with such pretense," Xun Mama advised, her tone carrying the weariness of experience. "Our lord's interest typically lasts two, perhaps three days at most. While he remains fond of you, extract whatever money you can to secure your future."
Ming Yi understood immediately. Xun Mama had served Ji Bozai for years—she wasn't cruel, merely indifferent after witnessing countless women cycle through this exact routine. Hope arrived, hope departed, the pattern repeated endlessly.
A calculated smile curved Ming Yi's lips. "Naturally, I intend to ensure the lord's happiness... especially while he's feeling generous."
Surprise flickered across Xun Mama's features that the girl had actually responded. She paused mid-motion, then rolled her eyes skyward. "Shameless creature."
Such accusations might wound others, but Ming Yi had discarded shame along with her former identity the moment she'd entered the dancers' courtyard. Dignity was a luxury she could no longer afford.
So she continued burning incense, smile never faltering, and ventured conversationally, "Mama, does the lord prefer strong or mild fragrances? Does he favor women who project literary refinement or martial strength?"
"No comment."
"Then, Mama, what are your preferences? Sweet or salty flavors? Can you eat these cashews?"
"You talk excessively, young lady." Xun Mama's voice carried warning. "Our lord absolutely detests noisy people."
"...Oh." She obediently pressed her lips together in exaggerated silence.
However, her resolve lasted approximately as long as a single stick of incense burning.
"Mama, where did you acquire the fabric for your robe? That pattern is absolutely exquisite. I'd love to commission a similar set for my mother."
Xun Mama felt her temples beginning to throb, her eye developing an involuntary twitch.
She'd encountered every variety of woman imaginable for the lord over the years—seductresses, innocents, scholars, warriors. But never one so relentlessly talkative, chattering away like a magpie possessed. Given the lord's well-documented preference for tranquility, she genuinely wondered what had possessed him to select this particular girl.
Yet catching sight of Ming Yi's pitifully bored expression—like a child confined indoors on a beautiful day—Xun Mama's hardened heart softened fractionally. "This fabric isn't commercially available. It's a gift from the inner courtyard."
The response proved catastrophic.
The young girl's entire face illuminated as if lanterns had been lit behind her eyes. She clutched Xun Mama's sleeve like a drowning person grasping driftwood. "Are these cashews also from the inner courtyard? They taste significantly superior to those served in the dancers' quarters."
"This courtyard is remarkably spacious and flat. I wonder how many consecutive flips it would require to travel from the back entrance to the front gate."
"That golden silk curtain is breathtaking—look at the hidden embroidery technique. Someone invested tremendous effort creating that."
"Mama, do you enjoy cashews? I'll shell them for you. I'm exceptionally skilled at it. When I was first selected as a dancer..."
Xun Mama immediately regretted opening her mouth.
This girl possessed an apparently inexhaustible capacity for conversation, seamlessly transitioning from her recruitment as a dancer to attending imperial palace banquets, covering nearly her entire life story in a single afternoon's deluge.
Rubbing her aching ears, Xun Mama cast longing glances toward the door, hoping for the first time in memory that her lord would return swiftly and assume responsibility for this exhausting little chatterbox.
Cultural Context: Dancers in Historical China
In ancient Chinese courts and noble households, dancers occupied a precarious social position—more valued than servants but never equal to legitimate wives or concubines. They were living art objects, trained from youth to be visually perfect and entertaining. The "calloused fingertips" Ji Bozai notices represent years of practice, while Ming Yi's instant recognition of jewelry value reveals practical survival instincts honed by economic precarity. Her chattiness, seemingly artless, may actually be a calculated strategy to distinguish herself in a world where silence equals invisibility and invisibility equals death.
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)