By evening, the setting sun bled red across the sky.
On the third floor of Zuìhuā Tower, the courtesan stood by the window, draped in a sheer veil. The twilight glow fell upon her figure, seductive and graceful, her posture proud and striking.
She gazed out the window at the breathtaking view of the lake, her expression heavy.
“Miss, it’s about time. You should get ready,” the maid Ping’er said from behind.
“How many young masters came?” Du Niang slowly turned and asked.
“Over ten. I heard you’re hosting a poetry contest tonight, so even Young Master Li, Young Master Su, and Young Master Wang have arrived. I think the winner will surely be one of the three,” Ping’er replied with a playful smile.
Du Niang showed no delight, only nodded slightly.
“By the way, the Young Marquis is here too,” Ping’er added.
Du Niang paused and asked, “Who did he come with?”
“Who else? That chubby Qian Duoduo, of course,” Ping’er said, curling her lips.
“Did he bring any guards?” Du Niang asked.
“Yes, just that maid Honglian…”
Ping’er hesitated, then said worriedly, “Miss, I’m afraid if he sees you, he’ll get clingy again and ruin our plans.”
“It’s fine. If he causes trouble, we’ll deal with him like we did before.”
“Mm! Madam Sang has already made arrangements. Miss, let me do your hair.”
Ping’er helped Du Niang sit at the dressing table and began combing and styling her hair.
…
In Zuìhuā Tower’s main hall, every seat was filled.
On the central stage, several flower girls danced provocatively, their movements suggestive enough to stir any man’s blood.
Lightly dressed girls accompanied the guests in drinking games. Wine flowed, laughter echoed—it was a lively scene.
Qian Duoduo had an arm around two girls, drinking as his hands roamed. One hand had already slipped into a girl’s dress, making her pant softly. Ji Huaian watched, clearly embarrassed.
Though he wasn’t a gentleman by any means, he couldn’t bring himself to act so boldly in public.
Chunlan and Qiushui clung to him from either side, thinking the Young Marquis didn’t like them and looking pitiful.
Ji Huaian had wanted to leave several times, but knowing that the original Young Marquis never left Zuìhuā Tower early, he forced himself to stay.
As time passed, the atmosphere in the hall reached its peak.
Sun Yu sat at a small table near the edge of the hall, accompanied by a girl, with a few dishes in front of him. But he looked distracted, his gaze frequently drifting to a table near the center of the hall.
Curious, Ji Huaian followed his line of sight and saw three men seated at that table.
He recognized all three. They were not only regulars of Zuìhuā Tower but also prominent figures on the Young Masters’ Ranking.
Su Wencai, ranked third.
Li Zihao, ranked sixth.
Wang Lun, ranked seventh.
These three were all refined and elegant, with exceptional family backgrounds. Especially Su Wencai, whose Su family was considered the number one aristocratic clan in Jiangnan.
The Su family had hundreds of officials serving the Empire, with more than ten in high-ranking court positions. Su Wencai was the second son of the Su family. His uncle, Su Shen, was the current Minister of State.
The Su family’s influence even surpassed that of the Ji Marquis Residence—an existence even Ji Huaian’s father had to be wary of.
The Li family was also a political family, though not as powerful as the Su family. Still, many of its members held government posts. Li Zihao’s uncle was the Vice Minister of Rites, a third-rank official.
The Wang family was a prestigious noble house in Jiangnan. Although it had declined, it still had deep foundations—two prime ministers had come from it.
Ji Huaian may have known the three, but he had little interaction with them. After all, they were admired literary prodigies; he was just a worthless playboy. They were not from the same world.
Why did Sun Yu keep glancing at them? Ji Huaian was puzzled.
Thinking for a moment, he leaned toward Chunlan and whispered a few words before handing her a silver ingot.
“Don’t worry, Young Marquis. I’ll get it done,” Chunlan replied cheerfully and ran off, holding the silver.
At that moment, a well-dressed young man shouted drunkenly, “Madam Sang, it’s about time. Invite the courtesan out already!”
“Yes, it’s getting late. Start already!”
“I can’t wait anymore!”
“Please bring out the courtesan!”
…
The crowd in the hall echoed the call.
“Don’t rush, gentlemen. Du Niang is on her way,” Madam Sang said with a smile, waving her hand. The dancing girls on stage quickly withdrew.
A few breaths later, Du Niang descended from the third floor, holding a silk ribbon in one hand…
The courtesan wore a golden hair ornament, her almond-shaped face glowing under the lights, brows delicate like spring hills, eyes soft and flowing like autumn waves. Her long, inky hair cascaded down her back, and her alluring face radiated endless charm.
The entire hall fell silent. Every gaze locked on her, without exception.
Even Honglian, leaning against the wall, stared at Du Niang’s red dress with a hint of envy in her eyes. Though she trained in martial arts from a young age, she was still a girl. She’d always loved red but never had the chance to wear it.
“Du Niangzi… she’s beautiful…” Qian Duoduo mumbled, drool pooling at the corner of his chubby mouth.
Ji Huaian was once again disgusted by the little fatty.
But he had to admit, the courtesan was truly stunning. Though ranked lower than Han Yiyi, their beauty was neck-and-neck. In terms of allure, Du Niang clearly had the upper hand.
Every expression, every movement—she was captivating. No ordinary woman could match her. Brothel girls truly understood men.
Looking at the seductive Du Niang, Ji Huaian couldn’t help but think of how he was left powerless that morning two days ago. He felt a trace of regret.
“Gentlemen, Du Niang greets you all.”
She set the zither down and offered a graceful curtsy to the guests.
“A beauty to make fish sink and birds fall, to eclipse the moon and shame the flowers. Du Niangzi, you grow more radiant by the day,” Su Wencai said, leering.
“Even a blooming peony can’t match your grace. Every time I see you, there’s a different charm,” Li Zihao added poetically.
“Brother Su and Brother Li are so eloquent. I bet one of you will win tonight’s poetry contest,” Wang Lun chimed in with flattery.
Others in the hall silently watched the three show off.
Du Niang smiled and said, “It’s my honor to be graced by you three. Before the contest, allow me to play a tune to liven the mood.”
“Wonderful…”
Cheers erupted throughout the hall.
Du Niang bowed again and casually glanced at Ji Huaian before sitting down before her zither.
“She looked at me just now!” Qian Duoduo said, thrilled.
Idiot. She was clearly looking at me… Ji Huaian rolled his eyes at the fatty in his mind.
Du Niang positioned the zither, sitting cross-legged before it. Lifting her fair arms, she revealed flawless hands. Her ten slender fingers lightly touched the strings as she steadied her breath.
After two or three calm breaths, Du Niang’s fingers moved.
A single stroke released a graceful note that echoed from the strings.
Her fingers danced like flowing water, every movement elegant and mesmerizing.
The sound of the zither flowed gently like a cheerful stream, as if each note could pierce straight into the soul…