cold clothes

As Yunqiu spoke, she hardened her heart.

She abandoned sisterly affection the moment she decided to disfigure Qingchun; no weak emotion, no strong barrier, could stop her. Once the fire of hatred is ignited, it will burn until the day she dies.

Shuiguangxuan —

Shuiguangxuan got its name from its connection to the largest lake within Fengxianglou. From the west-facing windows, the lake's surface is as smooth as a mirror, its surface shimmering with light. The colors of the morning glow, evening clouds, midday sun, night moon, and stars are all reflected on the lake, as are the glimmers of spring rain, summer thunder, autumn leaves, and winter frost and snow.

At dusk, fiery clouds blanketed most of the sky, their reflection in the lake making the water appear to be ablaze. The snow hanging on the shore also glowed a fiery red, like porcelain in a kiln. The sky and water merged into a crimson expanse, a beauty that resembled a catastrophe.

Qingchun sat by the west window, gazing at the twilight for a long time, her gaze seemingly focused yet also vacant, adopting a posture of waiting yet filled with sorrow. Or perhaps she had a premonition that even if she sent someone to the door to greet Wang Yiqing, he would not come again.

Did it all never exist? That tender, intimate love. On the desk, on the rice paper, in the inkstone, in the brush, on her back, in his heart, vows of love, though short-lived, were written: "You shall be a rock, I a reed; the rock will never move, the reed as resilient as silk..." He said she was the most beautiful girl in the world, he said he would take her home, to belong only to him. Did none of that exist? Was it all just a fleeting dream?

Qingchun touched her cheek blankly. Her scars had healed completely, but today a new wound had been torn open in her heart, causing her excruciating pain. Compared to her sisters' deception and her man's betrayal, simply hating a child was probably the happier thing.

Will he come?

As expected, I still held onto hope! No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, deep down I still yearned for it. "It can't be true, it can't be true, it can't be true..." I kept saying to myself, tears streaming down my empty eyes.

"Erlang, come quickly..."

"Miss! Miss!" Just as Qingchun was feeling desperate, an anxious cry came from afar. Then came a series of hurried footsteps, and Xiao Lü's running figure appeared and disappeared in the corridor. Within a few breaths, she arrived in front of Qingchun.

Qingchun immediately stood up nervously and hurriedly asked, "Is Erlang here?!" Her heart was filled with joy like a deer.

If Erlang had gone to Yunqiu's place, Xiaolv wouldn't have rushed back so quickly!

Before Qingchun could finish celebrating, she heard Xiaolü panting, "No, no, it's not the Duke's son, it's... the Marquis of Shenyong's heir! The Marquis of Shenyong's heir wants to see you, Miss!"

The title "Heir of the Marquis of Shenyong" startled Qingchun. Liang Weizhong, the heir of the Marquis of Shenyong, had been ordered to guard the Northwest Camp against the Xiongnu half a year ago. She hadn't expected him to return to the capital. She wondered how long he'd been back and why. At that moment, Qingchun realized she had truly been isolated from the world for the past two weeks, completely oblivious to any outside noise, and a growing sense of unease crept into her heart.

However, there was no time to think about that right now. The heir of the Marquis of Shenyong was an important figure who couldn't be offended, even more important than Wang Yiqing. Although she was somewhat deeply involved in the relationship, she still knew what was important and what was not. Qingchun clenched her hands tightly, her nails digging into her flesh and causing a sharp pain. After the pain subsided, she said decisively, "Xiao Lü, get me a crimson dress. Go quickly, we can't keep the heir waiting too long."

-

A dress is a woman's armor. Qingchun returned to the long-lost battlefield with a heart fully armed. Her appearance immediately drew everyone's attention, gasps of admiration filling the air. Her posture straightened involuntarily, each step graceful, as she moved through the diverse crowd. She had once again transformed into the queen of flowers, surpassing all others. The crowd parted automatically on either side of her; her beauty alone was enough to make others give way.

But such arrogance had no effect on the Marquis of Shenyong. The man, who had fought on the battlefield since childhood, could cut one's face with a single glance. Although he was only twenty-two years old, he was much more mature and heroic than the pale-faced scholars of the same age. In front of him, Qingchun immediately became as gentle and weak as a little white flower next door.

"Your Highness, it's been a long time. You're still as tall and handsome as ever." Qingchun spoke as if they were old friends reunited.

The prince, however, remained aloof and ignored her, continuing to brew his tea. His hands, accustomed to wielding swords and spears, were large and rough with prominent knuckles, creating a striking contrast as he held the delicate white porcelain cup. Qingchun thought to herself that this man hadn't changed at all, and then sat down opposite him, resting her chin on her hand and gazing at him.

The young general, in his early twenties, wore a dark blue round-necked brocade robe that made him look strong and powerful. His back was as straight as a spear, and his face was much darker, bearing the marks of the wind and sand of the frontier. His serious expression as he brewed tea was particularly interesting.

The prince's eyes flickered slightly as he noticed Qingchun's fixed gaze. He said nothing, but poured her a cup of tea. Qingchun smiled and accepted it with both hands. After taking a sip, the prince immediately looked at her with a questioning expression, as if asking how the tea was.

"Hmm..." Qingchun hesitated, wanting to say something but stopping herself.

The prince frowned and asked, "Does the tea taste strange? This is tea from your Fengxiang Pavilion."

"Ah, so it's from Fengxianglou. I couldn't tell at first glance."

"Are you implying that my tea-brewing skills are so poor that they disgrace your tea?" the prince said coldly.

"Of course not! The young master's skillful touch gives the tea a unique flavor, which is an honor for the tea!" Qingchun said quirkily.

The serious-looking prince couldn't respond to these witty remarks and could only cover them up by drinking tea, while Qingchun achieved her goal.

The first thing a courtesan must do is observe men, subtly figuring out their preferences—how to make them happy, how to smile to stir their hearts, what to say to amuse them… Qingchun had already figured out the young master of the Marquis of Shenyong's mansion. The young master didn't like women who were too alluring, nor did he like those who were as prim and proper as wood; the type that fell somewhere in between was exactly what made him swoon, though it wasn't obvious from his face. This was different from Wang Yiqing, who was like a connoisseur, appreciating all types of women as long as they were beautiful—and what man wouldn't dislike a beautiful woman? Liang Jizhong, however, was exceptionally picky. It was said that he had only ever sought out Qingchun among the courtesans, which sounded romantic, but Qingchun dared not harbor any illusions about him.

She preferred a gentle and considerate man to the aloof and uninteresting heir of the valiant Marquis, but that Wang Yiqing…

"what--"

Beneath the heavy, deep curtains, only the woman's melodious moans echoed, growing louder with each note.

Qingchun trembled, tears streaming down her face. The Marquis of Shenyong's heir often appeared so indifferent as to be completely unrelated to such dissolute activities as visiting brothels, but in bed he was undoubtedly a beast in human clothing!