The sun was slanting westward, and the dilapidated gates of Liu Garden cut off half the clamor of the outside world.
Li Sheng stepped over the threshold, the redwood money box in his hand—once heavy and substantial—now feeling light enough to float. He absentmindedly handed the box to a nearby servant and wiped a thin layer of greasy sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
Back at the Drunken Red Pavilion, the sound of those two thousand taels in banknotes slamming onto the table was still ringing in his ears.
The madam’s hands had trembled as she counted the money, but there was no gratitude in her eyes; there was only the predatory malice of a beast that wanted to bite even after being fed.
Li Sheng hadn't cared. Following the Eldest Miss's instructions, he had slapped another fifty taels on the table, calling it a "tea tip" for the brothel's handymen. The madam’s face had twitched, but in the end, she had bowed her head before the silver ingot.
Money was a wonderful thing; it could make people shut their mouths, and it could make them straighten their backs.
Li Sheng walked into the backyard.
Dozens of women, newly redeemed from their contracts, had already changed into clean, coarse linen clothes. Their original garments—thin, translucent gauzes—were piled in a corner, ready to be put to the torch. Without the cover of rouge and powder, their complexions revealed a pallor born of years spent away from the sun, and they stood shivering in the chilly courtyard.
Seeing Li Sheng enter, the woman at the very front holding a pipa trembled.
This was Yunniang. Having spent ten years in the Drunken Red Pavilion, she was an expert at reading people's expressions. Seeing the manager’s solemn face as he approached, she instinctively assumed he was there to "set the rules"—which, in a place like that, usually meant lashes and starvation.
Her knees buckled, and Yunniang hit the ground with a thud.
"This humble servant, Yunniang, thanks the Great Lord for saving my life..."
That one kneel was like the first falling domino.
The dozens of women behind her were already like startled birds. Seeing their leader kneel, how would they dare remain standing? For a moment, the sound of knees hitting the floor echoed through the courtyard. A sea of black hair bowed low as they scrambled to the ground. The dull thud of knees hitting stone was enough to make one's teeth ache, and their mouths erupted in a chaotic chorus of "Great Master," "Living Buddha," and "I kowtow to you."
Looking at the mass of people kneeling before him, Li Sheng’s face instantly turned the color of pig liver.
It wasn't pleasure he felt, but sheer terror.
"Stop! Nobody move!"
Li Sheng let out a roar and lunged three steps backward. His back slammed into a pillar of the corridor, knocking over a broom leaning nearby.
The broom hit the ground with a bang.
Dust billowed up, making him cough violently.
The women on the ground were too terrified to look up. They pressed themselves even lower, thinking the manager was enraged.
Li Sheng leaned against the pillar, gasping for breath. His mind was flooded with the traumatic memories of his experience in Taoyuan County.
That time, it had also been a group of refugees entering the city to show their gratitude, kneeling in a black mass just like this. As luck would have it, the Eldest Miss had walked by at that exact moment. Her face had turned so dark it looked like it would drip ink. She had pointed at his nose and scolded him for promoting "feudal dregs." On the grounds of "poor management and encouraging a slave mentality," she had docked half a month of his wages!
That was cold, hard silver.
"Everyone, stand up!" Li Sheng pointed at the people on the ground, his voice cracking with tension. "Who told you to kneel? Straighten your damn knees!"
Yunniang looked up blankly, her knees still glued to the ground, not daring to move.
"Didn't you hear me?" Li Sheng took two steps forward. He wanted to help them up but didn't dare touch them, so he could only stomp his foot. "In the Xu family, except for Heaven, Earth, your parents, and the current Emperor—or when one absolutely must for the sake of the greater good—no one is allowed to kneel! Especially not in the Xu Manor!
The Eldest Miss spent a fortune to buy you back because she values your skills, not to buy a bunch of spineless worms who only know how to kowtow! Whoever kneels again gets their monthly wages docked to zero!"
The words "docked wages" were more effective than any grand philosophy.
The figures on the ground stood up tremulously. They looked at each other, their eyes filled with utter disbelief. No kneeling? No beatings or scoldings? And they were getting paid?
Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.
Xu Qinghuan walked over, holding a newly bound ledger. She had changed into a sharp, long-sleeved robe, her hair held up simply by a wooden hairpin.
Behind her followed Xu Wuyou. The eldest young master had finally stopped fluttering his folding owl; one hand rested on the turquoise hilt of the sword at his waist, his eyes alertly scanning the surroundings. He actually looked the part of a formidable bodyguard.
Xu Qinghuan came to a stop at the top of the steps.
She didn't speak immediately. Her gaze swept from left to right, lingering on every face.
Her gaze wasn't sharp, nor did it hold the dismissive lightness of someone inspecting merchandise. Those she looked at instinctively tried to lower their heads, hunch their shoulders, and pull in their chests—a habit of humility carved into their very bones by years in the flower and willow alleys.
"What do you think I bought you for?" Xu Qinghuan spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was crystal clear in the silent courtyard.
A stir went through the crowd.
Someone whispered timidly, "To serve... serve men..."
Another buried her head in her chest. "To do chores... laundry and cooking..."
One woman sounded even more desperate, her voice tinged with tears. "As long as I'm not... not beaten to death... I'll do anything..."
Xu Qinghuan smiled, though the smile didn't reach her eyes. She held up the ledger in her hand; the cover bore four large characters: Xu Manor Rules.
"You're all wrong."
She tossed the ledger to Li Sheng and took a step forward, standing at the edge of the steps and looking down at the crowd.
"Serving men? That is the lowest form of skill, a trade one only resorts to when they cannot sustain their own life. Doing chores? I have plenty of laborers as strong as oxen; why would I want your thin arms and legs? For decoration?"
"In the past, you sold your smiles to please those foul men, begging them to let a few coins slip through their fingers. That kind of money burns the hand; it is lowly and invites contempt! You knelt to take the money, and those men stood there laughing at you, treating you as disposable toys!"
The courtyard fell into a deathly silence.
These words were too piercing; they directly ripped away the last shred of their dignity. Yunniang bit her lip, her fingernails digging into her palms.
"The Hundred Flowers Pavilion I intend to open does not sell bodies."
Xu Qinghuan held up a single finger.
"I sell 'dreams'."
"I want the men and women of Jiangning City—and even the whole of Jiangnan—to have to weigh their own status before they even step through the door.
I want them to willingly kneel as they offer up their banknotes, just to beg for a single smile from you. Here, you are not toys; you are the creators of dreams. Since you are the immortals who craft dreams, why on earth would you kneel to mere mortals?"
The crowd listened, half-understanding. The concept of "creating dreams" was too remote for them, but they understood the phrase "make men kneel to give us money."
A spark of light flickered in Yunniang’s eyes.
Xu Qinghuan gave them no time to process it and began calling names immediately.
She walked into the middle of the crowd and pointed to a cold, elegant woman who had been keeping her head down.
"What is your name?"
"This servant is... Xiaocui."
"Common." Xu Qinghuan frowned and shook her head in distaste. "From today on, your name is Nianyun. Forget all the tricks you learned about how to pour wine and how to act coquettish for men. Starting tomorrow, you won't be learning those lewd songs. You will learn to read."
“To… read?” The woman stammered, stunned.
“Exactly. I will hire the finest scholars in Jiangning to teach you the ancient classics, history, and philosophy,” Xu Qinghuan said, stepping closer until she was looking the woman directly in the eye. “I want you to cultivate an aura of icy detachment that goes right to your bones. You are to be a ‘blossom of snow and ice.’ Even if a guest offers a thousand gold pieces, you are not to grant him a single smile. If anyone dares to lay a finger on you, have the guards throw them out immediately! I want them to learn exactly what it means to be ‘admired from afar but never touched.’”
Standing nearby, Xu Wuyou listened with a look of utter bewilderment. He couldn't help but mutter under his breath, “Paying good money just to bring a block of ice home to worship? Are the men of Jiangning really that masochistic?”
Xu Qinghuan ignored him, her footsteps coming to a halt in front of a woman of exceptional height.
This woman had been shrinking back at the very rear of the crowd, looking as if she wished she could vanish into the floorboards. She stood a full head taller than the others, her frame broad and striking. She lacked the delicate, sloping shoulders and willow-waist typical of Jiangning beauties; instead, her silhouette was defined by sharp, powerful lines.
“Lift your head,” Xu Qinghuan commanded, her voice brook no argument.
The woman stiffened, her pale lips trembling as she bit down on them in silent resistance.
“What? Do my words carry no weight here?”
The woman flinched. Slowly, she looked up.
It was a face of immense impact. Her eyes were deep-set, and her nose rose as sharp and proud as a mountain peak. Most striking of all were her eyes—a rare, pale amber, reminiscent of a predator prowling the steppes. Yet, at this moment, those beautiful eyes were clouded with terror and self-loathing.
Even Xu Wuyou couldn’t help but let out a sharp intake of breath.
“Don’t… don’t look…” The woman instinctively raised her hand to shield her face, her voice raspy. “I am hideous. I look like a rakshasa demon. My bones are too hard; I don't look like a woman at all…”
“Not like a woman?” Xu Qinghuan spoke as if she had just heard a ridiculous joke. She reached out, firmly catching the woman’s wrist and pulling it down. “Who decided that women must be as soft as dough? Who decided that beauty only comes in one form?”
“I… my mother was a dancer from the Western Regions,” the woman stammered. “The madam said I look too fierce. She said the customers only like the ones who look pitiful and fragile. She said someone like me is only fit for chopping wood in the kitchen…”
