At dawn the next morning, just as the sky lightened, Xiao Chongheng prepared to leave. When he got out of bed, he accidentally bumped something, waking Ling Zhenli.
He left her a cat, saying he feared she would feel lonely and sad, so he had brought it specifically for her to keep her company. He even said it was a Persian cat gifted from the Kingdom of Persia.
The cat was meowing as it padded toward her.
Half-asleep at the time, she gave it a simple name—White Cloud. Xiao Chongheng had asked her why she named it that. She had been lying lazily on the bed, one arm hanging down. When the cat approached, she scratched gently under its chin with her fingertips.
The little snow-colored thing narrowed its jade-like eyes, purring. Then it shook its long fur, leapt lightly onto the windowsill, and in the sunlight its soft coat glowed like drifting clouds—indeed like white clouds.
Seeing this, Xiao Chongheng laughed—a rare moment of genuine laughter in front of Ling Zhenli.
Previously, whenever he had to leave for official duties, he would leave behind valuable items. This time, he left her a pile of luxurious clothing and jeweled hairpins. Ling Zhenli fiddled with the objects laid on the table, examining them one by one to see if any were new to her.
She had once been the daughter of an official family, but her father had been nothing more than a low-ranking ninth-grade magistrate. She had never seen anything truly valuable. After falling into Xiao Chongheng’s hands, she ate well and dressed well—but she didn’t know that everything set before her were treasures and garments only used within the palace…
As she looked, she couldn’t help shaking her head, laughing at herself.
No matter how beautifully she dressed, how luxurious her robes were, she was still a courtesan. Her only path forward was to please Xiao Chongheng, to beg him to take her away from Zuixian Pavilion.
Thinking this, Ling Zhenli called the cat to her and gently stroked it.
As for the child…
Ling Zhenli loved children, but she had also hoped that bearing this one would persuade Xiao Chongheng to take her away, free her from her status, maybe even take her as a concubine for the child’s sake.
The child was gone now. For the child, it might be a blessing—at least she wouldn’t have to endure her father’s dislike, nor be used as leverage by her mother.
She comforted herself: Xiao Chongheng still visited when he had time, still spent the night with her, still showered her with fine things. She still had a chance.
She had feelings for him. Even though there was an unbridgeable chasm between their statuses, she still fell hopelessly in love with him, desperately wishing he would take her away.
So Ling Zhenli turned toward the dressing table and began carefully applying her makeup.
Her reflection was as delicate as a painting, though it couldn’t hide the sorrow in her eyes.
Since her value lay in her beauty, she ought to carry herself with the awareness of being an object of pleasure. She must keep her spirits up, use the remaining pity Xiao Chongheng held for her, and beg him to redeem her freedom.
As long as she could leave Zuixian Pavilion and shed the title of official courtesan, she would accept anything.
But from dawn until nightfall, Xiao Chongheng never came… She waited until she could no longer stay awake and drifted into sleep.
She dreamt she had left Zuixian Pavilion, become a concubine to Xiao Chongheng, and that he cherished her deeply, treated her with utmost tenderness, until finally she rose all the way to the position of his primary wife—spending the rest of her life at his side.
Half a month passed. One morning, Xiao Chongheng arrived again.
He went straight to the bed. Ling Zhenli was still dreaming when he woke her roughly.
“Why… did you only just come?”
Her voice was husky from sleep. The first thing she noticed was the familiar scent on him—comforting as always. She tried to open her eyes, tried to say more, but his lips pressed down on hers. His hands roamed boldly downward.
“Don’t… don’t rush… I’m not fully recovered yet… mm…”
Her words dissolved under his kiss. As desire rose, she wrapped her arms around his neck, responding to him.
“Let’s try something different today.”
“Wait a moment.” Ling Zhenli pushed him gently, though with little strength.
“Wait for what?” He slowed slightly, puzzled.
In the next second, she boldly hugged him, burying her face in his chest and rubbing her head against him, a suppressed grievance coloring her voice.
“I missed you so much. Why did you come back so late? Do you know—I thought you’d never come again… wuwu…”
Xiao Chongheng froze.
The words he had prepared were lodged in his throat, unable to be spoken after her sudden display of affection.
After a long pause, he patted her back lightly and responded with a faint, detached “Mm,” offering a perfunctory comfort. Then, feeling it insufficient, he added, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Ling Zhenli, too, had her own thoughts. She needed the right moment to bring up leaving Zuixian Pavilion. But with Xiao Chongheng’s lukewarm attitude, the words stuck in her throat.
Thus, the two of them, each with their own burdens, simply held each other quietly for a while.
Soon, the man could no longer restrain himself. He pressed her down gently, laying her back onto the bed…
The dim candlelight flickered with the movement of the bed, casting shifting shadows. Sweet, breathy sounds filled the space within the canopy.
The woman’s eyes were hazy. Her hands were bound loosely with red silk above her head, wide sleeves draping down to reveal smooth, alabaster arms.
Her hair, once neatly arranged, now spilled like tangled vines across the sheets.
Ling Zhenli had not yet fully recovered, and by the end, the small flowers in the nearby potted plant drooped weakly, their stems bent.
Dissatisfied with her performance, the man plucked a flower bud and peeled open the layered petals. Rain had just fallen, leaving the blossom damp.
“No…”
Ling Zhenli couldn’t bear to see the delicate flower being ruined. She closed her eyes, fear creeping in—not of him, but of the sensation of losing control.
Zuixian Pavilion had trained her well. Even the slightest stimulus could reduce her to helpless tremors.
“Open your eyes and look at me. Who am I?” Xiao Chongheng demanded, relentless, craving something from the depths of her gaze.
Her fingertips dug into his back, as if she were a drowning person clinging to the last floating plank…
Waves crashed everywhere, salty water seeping into the cracks of stone, threatening to swallow her whole.
Hearing his voice felt like a deity descending to earth. She cried out from deep water, broken whispers spilling from her lips.
“Chongheng…”
The word burned her. Her ears reddened. The next moment, he captured her shy murmur with a searing kiss. His hand traced her trembling waist, the storm crashing harder, overwhelming her until she could barely breathe.
When she finally caught a breath, her eyes opened slightly. Before she could see his face clearly, he kissed her again, muddling her senses further…
Like an addiction, Xiao Chongheng urged her, “Call again.”
“Chongheng… Chongheng…”
The entire greenhouse fell silent. The two of them entwined like vines, sap mingling, fibers tearing and rejoining.
He had no desire to be gentle with her. He only sought new ways to torment her body and spirit, crushing her dignity beneath him, then watching the delirious beauty that bloomed from her ruin.
When the affair ended, he offered no lingering tenderness.
Ling Zhenli thought the moment was right. While his mood was still good afterward, she spoke sweetly:
“Chongheng… take me away from here.”
Xiao Chongheng did not answer. He rose from the bed, set her aside, put on his outer robe, lifted the bed curtain, and went to take out silver notes.
Seeing him return with the notes, she prepared to cling to him again, to coax him with sweetness.
He gave her more silver than ever before. Ling Zhenli, surprised and delighted, immediately began counting.
Though official courtesans could not be redeemed, rules were dead things and people were alive. A man with power like Xiao Chongheng only needed one word to free her.
“Give up, Ali. I won’t take you away.”
Before her joy could even fall from her lips, Xiao Chongheng stood and prepared to leave.
“What?” Ling Zhenli was stunned.
His next sentence plunged her into an icy abyss.
“I don’t want my future wife to know of your existence. So let’s end this here. Drink the contraceptive soup while it’s hot. I won’t return again.”
With that, he walked out.
“No! No—wait, Chongheng! Chongheng!”
Seeing him leave without looking back, Ling Zhenli snapped out of her daze. Panic struck her and she scrambled to get out of bed—but her foot slipped, and she fell, dragging the blanket with her.
The silver notes scattered across the floor. She hit the ground painfully. Her hair was a mess, the blanket tangled around her. A single banknote landed beside her hand—she looked utterly pathetic.
Xiao Chongheng was long gone. Even if she wanted to chase him, it was too late. Besides, she had no clothes on—running outside like this would be humiliating.
He was gone. What was she supposed to do?
He would never return. What was she, then? What was she to him?
In her despair, she suddenly thought of their past.
When she first entered Zuixian Pavilion, she suffered endlessly. It was Xiao Chongheng who requested her exclusively. From then on, she served only him. He told her she was beautiful—that her eyes outshone every treasure he had ever seen. And she believed it. She believed a noble young man like him truly cared for her, would take her away. After becoming pregnant, she naïvely dreamed he would even make her a concubine.
Now, she realized how pitifully foolish she had been. Only someone delusional would expect a man like him—a favored noble of heaven—to choose someone as lowly as a courtesan.
She laughed—then cried, tears ripping through her chest.
It wasn’t only that he refused to take her away—it was that her child had just died, and yet he was so heartless. He was about to marry, and he wanted to sever ties completely.
Between them, all power had always belonged to him. She was never a real person in his eyes—just a toy. A toy that, once bored with, he could discard. Once, he wanted her exclusively. Now he did not care if she was used or harmed by others.
He would marry his noble wife. They would build a home together. They would share affection and raise children. And he would never think of her again…
Weeping, Ling Zhenli made a silent vow: she must remember her status. She must charm another powerful man to take her away. Otherwise, she would spend the rest of her life crying within Zuixian Pavilion.
That day, it was said that the second son of Princess Wuyang—the Duke of Yan—was to marry Princess Roujia, daughter of the former Crown Prince Duanhua. The streets overflowed with people. Vermillion Bird Avenue was lined with red silk, and music filled the skies.
A wedding procession of hundreds moved grandly down the road. Xiao Chongheng wore a crimson round-collared robe embroidered with qilin as he rode a magnificent steed. Drums and flutes thundered through the streets. Princess Roujia, Pei Chanlian, sat within a gilded bridal sedan adorned with decorations. Her maids scattered coins and sweets along the road. The crowd marveled at this royal union.
The red silk stretched from the former Crown Prince’s residence to Princess Wuyang’s estate—passing directly by Zuixian Pavilion. Ling Zhenli leaned over the railing, wanting to see how grand a princess’s wedding could be.
It was magnificent—so magnificent that it filled her with bitter envy. What would Xiao Chongheng’s own wedding be like? He seemed wealthy and powerful—what did his family do? Would he and his bride have a procession as grand as this?
As she thought, tears slipped down again.
She swore silently: she would leave this brothel. She would fight her way out. The world was full of powerful men. She could cling to anyone—she did not need Xiao Chongheng.
Her hatred nearly drove her mad.
Driven by this resolve, she rose and turned away from the wedding procession. She went to her dressing table and began washing and applying her makeup again.
She did not see the groom on the horse—the man repeatedly looking toward Zuixian Pavilion, eyes searching desperately for her.