Ji Bozai couldn’t help but feel a trace of pity for Mingyi as she nestled quietly on his knee. Palace dancers were never truly cherished; most came from poor or enslaved families, chosen only for their beauty. They were trained to dance, to entertain nobles, and to serve as rewards for officials during grand banquets. Outside those glittering nights, their lives were meager and unseen.
His little songbird had surely endured much before. No wonder she clung to wealth so dearly—she had known the cruelty of hunger.
With a faint sigh, he brushed his fingers through her hair. “Is there anything else you want?”
Mingyi raised her gaze, her eyes dark and glimmering. After a glance at the half-closed gold chest beside her, she looked back at him with sudden seriousness.
“My Lord,” she said, “you need to hire an accountant.”
Ji Bozai lifted a brow. “An accountant? For what?”
“To manage your household expenses,” she replied earnestly, sitting upright. “Your generosity delights me, but you’re establishing your estate. You can’t spend silver like water forever.”
Ji Bozai chuckled softly, pride curling through him. For someone as fond of money as Mingyi to worry about his spending—it could only mean she truly cared for him.
As expected, no woman could resist him for long.
Clicking his tongue, he pinched her nose. “Then I’ll hire you. From today, my fortune is yours to manage.”
Her eyes brightened like stars. “Truly?”
“I’ll have Matron Xun hand you the keys to the treasury when we return.”
Tears glimmered on her lashes as she dabbed them with a silk handkerchief. “My Lord is too kind. What virtue have I earned to deserve such favor?”
She leaned into his embrace, her fingertips tracing lazy circles in his palm.
She was yielding—allowing him in.
Ji Bozai’s lips curved into a knowing smile. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, the gesture suggestive, possessive. The carriage turned toward his residence.
The moon was full tonight—perfect.
Women, he mused, were easily moved by soft words and finer things. He had invested much in this one; it was only fair to see what she was worth.
Mingyi knew exactly how to please.
She had prepared everything in advance—the courtyard swept, red curtains fluttering lightly in the candle breeze. When he entered, she greeted him in a misty jade-green gown, the gauzy fabric swirling around her like smoke, revealing glimpses of pale skin and a slender waist.
“I’ve heard My Lord can drink endlessly,” she said, her voice soft as silk. “I’ve prepared wine to lift our spirits.”
Lowering her crimson lips, she offered the cup between her teeth.
Her face, delicate as a painting, shimmered in candlelight. Her lips pressed lightly against the rim, red against white porcelain. Ji Bozai couldn’t resist leaning closer.
He drained the cup—and caught the lingering taste of wine on her lips.
Though he had held countless women before, this one—this delicate, trembling beauty—was unlike any other. Her lips were honey, her skin silk, her breath sweet and quick as falling petals.
He lifted her effortlessly into his arms and laid her upon the silk-draped bed.
Wine and perfume mingled in the air until he could no longer tell whether it was the drink or the woman that made him drunk.
Outside, the stars turned. Inside, the oriole sang to the approaching dawn.
When morning light crept in, Ji Bozai woke to find her still sleeping, her cheeks flushed and warm, curled against his chest like a kitten. He gazed down, and a strange reluctance stirred in him.
“Lord Ji,” came Matron Xun’s voice from outside. “Prince Gong’s carriage has arrived.”
The woman in his arms stirred, blinking up at him with hazy eyes.
Ji Bozai smiled, his tone soft. “I’ll return soon, little one. Rest.”
She pouted and hid beneath the silk covers. He laughed, pressing a kiss against the fabric over her hair before leaving to dress.
He emerged radiant, his expression lighter than it had been in months.
At the banquet, his friends teased as soon as he entered.
“What rare treasure has our Lord Ji acquired to look this pleased?”
“I saw him yesterday, driving through the city with a beauty! Enough to topple kingdoms!”
“Ah, is Lord Ji finally ready to settle down?”
Ji Bozai merely smirked and sat down, pulling a wine-serving beauty to his side. “Just trying something new,” he said lazily.
Prince Gong, Qi Zhen, chuckled, swirling his cup. “You’re soon to be the Grand Priest. Best rein in your indulgence.”
His tone was half-joking, but the table fell quiet. Yan Xiao leaned forward. “Has the appointment been confirmed?”
“The Grand Seer already approved it,” Qi Zhen said, lifting his cup in salute. “This feast is to celebrate Ji’s rise.”
“Becoming a Grand Priest so soon—Lord Ji’s future is limitless!”
Everyone toasted.
The title carried more than ceremony. A Grand Priest might oversee rituals, but his influence reached beyond the temple—into court and city, into power itself.
Ji Bozai returned the toast, lips curving faintly.
He imagined the ceremonial robes—embroidered with gold and silver, fierce tigers and coiling serpents. He pictured the awe in Mingyi’s eyes when she saw him wear them.
She had been so dazzled by a mere third-rank robe. What would she think of this?
He laughed quietly to himself and downed the cup.
The beauty beside him refilled it, pressing close. “My Lord certainly knows how to hold his liquor.”
Ji Bozai pulled her onto his lap, studying her face. She was young, but compared to Mingyi, she lacked something—warmth, perhaps. Still, he kept her there, playing the part of the carefree lord.
As the talk drifted, Shu Zhonglin fanned himself. “Old Qiu’s son was once a candidate for Grand Priest too. But after that banquet incident, the Qiu family has shut themselves in. Old Qiu even claims illness now.”
“Strange,” Yan Xiao mused. “They say he was terrified, but the murdered ministers weren’t even close to him.”
“They haven’t caught the killer?”
“Not yet. I heard several palace dancers were tortured—three or four beaten to death, but none confessed.”
Shu Zhonglin turned to Ji Bozai. “Your little beauty’s lucky. If not for your protection, she might’ve been among them.”
Ji Bozai’s expression darkened slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Several of those dancers were from Yuan County. The judge deemed them all suspicious and ordered every dancer from that county to be punished.”
He paused, smiling faintly. “And your little songbird is from Yuan County too.”
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