The once‑glorious Zhao family fell overnight. The household was confiscated, the master and mistress executed, all the men exiled, and the women forced into the Pleasure Bureau as courtesans.
On the very day she was sent there, Fifth Miss Zhao Mingyan took the initiative to receive a guest. Her patron was a man nearly thirty—thirteen years older than her.
The next morning, the Zhao women spat in her face, cursing her as shameless, disgracing the family name, “Born of a courtesan, no wonder you were made to serve men. You’ve ruined generations of Zhao honor!”
Zhao Mingyan said nothing. That same day, the man returned, and she clung to him again. For seven nights, she held fast—until he finally took her out of the Pleasure Bureau. When she walked free, the gazes of her sisters, aunts, and cousins had all changed. Some still cursed, some sighed, and many envied her.
Once, they had starved themselves in defiance, vowing to preserve chastity for the Zhao name. But seeing Zhao Mingyan leave that hell, their resolve began to waver.
Her third aunt wailed, thrusting an eight‑year‑old girl into her arms: “Mingyan, I always knew your fate was blessed. Please, take your cousin Ming Shu out of here. Make her your servant, beat her, scold her, have her cook and wash—anything, just save her!”
Zhao Mingyan blinked at the once‑proud aunt, who had scorned even the family matriarch, and whispered: “Third Aunt, you know the release papers—I cannot get them.”
The words froze her aunt’s tears, then unleashed greater despair. For once inside the Pleasure Bureau, money alone could not buy freedom.
Zhao Mingyan had clung to her patron for seven nights, exhausting every trick and ounce of patience, before he finally secured her release. She had already resolved: if one man failed, she would find another, and another, until someone pulled her out.
Her mother had taught her: “If you fall into the abyss of the brothel, you must cling to a man, never let go, and make him drag you out.”
Her mother had done the same—once a famed courtesan, she married into the Zhao household as a concubine. Though her life there was lowly, she had food, clothing, and shelter—better than endless darkness in the brothel.
Zhao Mingyan realized her mother’s only lesson had proved true. And fortune favored her: the very first patron she clung to became her way out.
As her third aunt wept, her second aunt pressed something heavy into Zhao Mingyan’s palm—a warm jade heirloom.
“Mingyan, I know it’s near impossible to leave this place. My fate, I accept. But please, once you’re out, help me find news of my son Tong’er.”
Her second aunt had no daughters, only one son, Zhao Tong, just eight years old, exiled with the men. Three thousand li of bitter cold—grown men might not survive, let alone a child.
Zhao Mingyan met her aunt’s burning gaze and nodded.
Relief washed over the woman. She gripped Zhao Mingyan’s hand, whispering: “I knew you were the gentlest, kindest of us. Your fate will be the best. I’ll bless you all my life.”
Then, before anyone could stop her, she released Zhao Mingyan’s hand and hurled herself against a pillar wrapped in red silk.
“Second Aunt!”
“Huiniang!”
“Second Madam Zhao!”
The women rushed forward. Her maid stumbled to her side, checked her breath, and wailed in grief.
“Second Madam! Second Madam! She’s dead!”
On the eighth day in the Pleasure Bureau, she became the first of the Zhao women to die for chastity.
Even seeing it again, Zhao Mingyan could not stop the wave of sorrow. In her previous life, Second Aunt had also entrusted her with finding Zhao Tong before hurling herself to her death. She never understood why Second Aunt chose her—useless as she was—and indeed, she had failed.
Suppressing all emotion, Zhao Mingyan prepared to leave silently. But someone seized her arm.
“Zhao Mingyan! You cannot leave!”
It was Zhao Jiahan, the youngest aunt, the only one still unmarried.
“You are a daughter of the Zhao family. Our house has always been pure and upright. Now that Second Aunt has died for virtue, how can you shamelessly walk away? Either stay here with us, or die as she did!”
Her grip was iron, her eyes blazing with hatred and righteous jealousy.
But in the last life, it had not been this way.
Then, Zhao Jiahan had clung to her, pretending to be closest to her. Because Zhao Mingyan was betrothed to the heir of Marquis Xuanping, while the other Zhao girls were engaged to men of Prince Duan’s faction. When the Zhao family was implicated in treason, that entire faction was destroyed. Only Zhao Mingyan’s fiancé remained untouched, his family unconnected to Prince Duan.
So in that past life, when the Zhao women were dragged into the Pleasure Bureau, many pinned their hopes on Marquis Xuanping’s heir to save them. From the first day, Zhao Jiahan had held Zhao Mingyan’s hand, urging her to preserve her chastity and wait for rescue.
Indeed, the young heir did come.
But he came not for Zhao Mingyan.
Now, facing Zhao Jiahan’s eyes full of hatred and jealousy, Zhao Mingyan pressed down a chill. She was about to shake her off and leave when a tall, imposing figure appeared at the end of the corridor.
At his arrival, Zhao Jiahan’s voice rang out, trembling with excitement: “Young Master Chen! You’ve finally come!”