Chapter 3: Affectionate Yet Seemingly Unmoved

When Han Chu regained consciousness, she found herself lying on a couch in an unfamiliar room.

This wasn’t the Drunken Flower House! That was her first thought upon waking.

The pain at the nape of her neck had not subsided, a lingering reminder that someone had attacked her—was it Young Master Shen?

As she pondered this, someone entered. The door was gently pushed open, accompanied by a question that feigned ignorance: "You're awake?"

Han Chu, rubbing her aching neck, asked irritably, "Where is Madam Feng?"

No sooner had the words left her lips than a shadow flitted into the room, draped in a black cloak. It was Madam Feng, the brothel keeper of the Drunken Flower House.

"Madam!" Han Chu could not hide her joy, quickly sitting up on the couch.

Madam Feng removed her cloak, revealing a charming yet solemn face. With a sigh, she said, "Han Chu, you truly have a strong fate!"

Han Chu was startled by this and recalled what Young Master Shen had told her in the alley moments before. With knitted brows, she looked at Madam Feng, silently questioning her.

"The Drunken Flower House caught fire, starting from your room. Fortunately, the flames were contained in time, so the damage was not severe," Madam Feng explained gravely. "It was no accident—someone set the fire on purpose."

Someone had deliberately set the fire? Han Chu was both shocked and suspicious. But whom had she offended? She was merely a courtesan, hardly worth such effort to kill. She had always kept away from grudges...

Except, perhaps, for one person...

A name suddenly flashed through Han Chu’s mind, but she refused to believe it—dared not believe it. The niece of the Empress, a legitimate daughter of a high official, could she truly be so vicious? Were all those lessons in poetry and etiquette for nothing?

Or was there another mastermind behind this? Could it be him? After a night of passion, could he so easily attempt to destroy her for the sake of his future and reputation?

No! The Helian Qi she knew was a refined gentleman, and though he might be heartless, he would never stoop to such despicable means!

Perhaps it was fate that tonight, by chance, she had gone to Qianya Pavilion and escaped this disaster. But what of Qin’er, who had taken her place in the room...

Han Chu’s heart sank. Thinking of clever, obedient Qin’er, she suddenly dared not ask about her fate.

Madam Feng saw the turmoil in Han Chu’s eyes and spoke first: "Qin’er is dead, burned to death in your room."

Han Chu clutched the bedding tightly, tears streaming down her face. Choking, she wanted to speak but had no words.

"When Young Master Shen broke into your room, Qin’er was already dead." Madam Feng’s tone was flat, her face betraying no sorrow. "Her hands were tied to the bed beam, bound with ice silkworm threads—impervious to water and fire, impossible to escape."

At these words, Han Chu’s mind exploded!

Someone had used ice silkworm threads? Who harbored such deep hatred for her? Poor Qin’er—she was only twelve years old!

"Ice silkworm thread—impervious to water and fire, priceless," Young Master Shen’s voice drifted in from behind Madam Feng. "Perhaps the one behind this did not expect you to die in the fire, but at least wanted to ruin your face."

Ruin her face? Han Chu could only force a bitter smile. So her life and beauty were worth such a price!

Such a wealthy background, willing to spend such gold; such power, daring to commit arson so openly; someone who wanted to destroy her face or take her life... Was there even a second suspect?

At this moment, it was as if a pair of cold, ruthless hands were strangling Han Chu’s slender neck. She wanted to shout, to curse, but her anger and grief lodged in her throat, unable to break free.

"Ming Ying!"

All her pain and fury condensed into those two harsh syllables, uttered with all her strength and filled with boundless hatred.

A violent pain seized Han Chu’s chest, quickly spreading to her throat, choking her, making it impossible to speak.

She opened her lips, desperate to say something, but could only produce a hoarse, broken sound. Her former delicate, melodious voice had vanished.

She could not speak. She had lost her voice!

Realizing this, Han Chu could only breathe deeply. She told herself not to fear, that her voice would return soon enough. This thought calmed her, easing her anger and grief.

Perhaps because of the darkness in the room, neither of the others noticed Han Chu’s change. Seeing her fall silent after shouting "Ming Ying," Madam Feng even felt somewhat relieved.

"Han Chu," Madam Feng asked quietly, "do you know why I gave you that name?"

"Han, for the breaking dawn; Chu, for the beginning. As a courtesan, I hoped you’d understand your place from the very start... but you were ruined by your beauty and your talent for the zither."

Madam Feng spoke with a wistful sigh. Han Chu was her cherished treasure, more precious than her own child. Now, to see her come to this, she could hardly bear it. "You cannot return to the Drunken Flower House. Whether it’s the Ming family or the Helian family, I cannot afford to offend either. Luckily, those who set the fire don’t know you’re still alive..."

At this, Madam Feng choked with emotion. "Don’t think of avenging Qin’er. That would be like throwing an egg at a rock. In all our years as mother and daughter, I have arranged a future for you... From now on, you will go with Young Master Shen."

Han Chu heard this without much reaction. Once she suspected Ming Ying was behind the fire, she had already guessed Madam Feng’s decision.

The Ming family was a powerful clan. Ming Ying was the Empress’s niece—the Drunken Flower House could not afford to cross her. Han Chu knew that Madam Feng had treated her well; otherwise, she would not have hidden Han Chu’s survival from the Ming family and declared her dead to the world.

But to follow Young Master Shen from now on? Han Chu suddenly could not recall his face, only a vague impression of lake-blue robes and a faint scent of medicine.

So be it. Serving only Young Master Shen was better than being traded between men in bed.

Lost in thought, Han Chu failed to notice Young Master Shen’s expression. She slowly rose from the couch, knelt deeply before Madam Feng, and bowed her head in gratitude for years of care.

Han Chu had always been gentle and quiet. Having not spoken for a long while, Madam Feng simply assumed she was resigned to her fate. Seeing her bow, Madam Feng quickly helped her up. "Rest well," she said before leaving the room with Young Master Shen.

Only after they had walked some distance did Young Master Shen finally speak, laughing, "Madam Feng does like to take initiative. When did I ever say I’d take Han Chu in?"

"You ran into the burning house to save her—was that concern a lie?" Madam Feng replied with a soft laugh. "I’ve spent twenty years in this business—old I may be, but my eyes are still sharp."

Young Master Shen only gave a cold laugh. "Even if I am interested in Han Chu, how do you know I’d risk offending Ming Ying for her? She’s but a fallen flower—why would I?"

"Because you are the youngest legitimate son of the Marquis of Wenchang, the current emperor’s adopted son, and the favored disciple of the renowned Physician Qu," Madam Feng replied, neither humble nor servile, her words ringing out. "The famous 'Little Marquis of Romance,' Shen Yu—have I guessed right?"

As she spoke, Madam Feng watched Shen Yu’s reaction. Seeing he did not take offense, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. After all, he was the son of a marquis and had taken pains to conceal his identity; to expose him was a risk.

"Feng Thirteen’s reputation is well deserved," Shen Yu said, not denying her words.

Madam Feng’s family name was Feng, and she had once been called "Thirteen Beauties." Many old patrons, recalling the past, still addressed her as "Feng Thirteen"—a name with a touch of the underworld about it, just like the woman herself.

"Young Marquis flatters me. In all of Jingzhou city, there are few young gentlemen surnamed Shen of such bearing. Guessing your identity was not difficult," Madam Feng answered with candor.

Shen Yu maintained his cold smile. "Since you know who I am, you should also know my feelings for Han Chu may not be sincere."

"True or false, I see through it clearly," Madam Feng replied bluntly, exposing him without mercy:

"Half a year ago, when Han Chu first appeared on the roster, you intended to redeem her, but the Ninth Prince and Young Master Helian both vied for her, and you hesitated, giving up. Do I need to say more?"

At these words, Madam Feng saw as she wished: a flicker of jealousy on Shen Yu’s brow.

In the past six months, Shen Yu often visited the Drunken Flower House, always choosing nights when Helian Qi was absent, and even pretended to be flirtatious before Han Chu, hoping to attract her attention.

But unfortunately, Han Chu’s eyes saw no one but Helian Qi; she never noticed Shen Yu’s feelings.

Perhaps out of pride, Shen Yu, faced with her indifference, never sought her out, nor asked her to play the zither for him.

Yet Madam Feng had seen through all his quiet attentions. A man of such apparent frivolity, who could say he was not sincere? If he truly felt nothing for Han Chu, he could have revealed his identity and claimed her outright—why bother with such pretense?

Years ago, Madam Feng had heard a rumor: when the Marquis of Wenchang was young, he was famed for his romantic exploits, with many concubines, and often boasted, "Romantic, but never debauched." His youngest son, Shen Yu, resembled him greatly in matters of the heart, leading the Marquis to tease him as "both passionate and devoted, much like his father."

Thus, though Shen Yu was not the marquis’s heir, the youths of Jingzhou had dubbed him "Little Marquis of Romance," a sign of his father’s favor.

Madam Feng thought to herself that it was just as well Shen Yu was not the heir, for he was freer than someone like Helian Qi, who bore the burden of inheriting the family estate—otherwise, Han Chu might suffer the same fate in love once more.

With this thought, Madam Feng hesitated no longer and said in a low voice, "I ask only one thing, Young Marquis: should you one day tire of Han Chu, please see her settled for life."

As she spoke, she drew a thin paper from her sleeve and handed it to Shen Yu. "This is Han Chu’s deed of sale. From this day forth, she has no more ties to the Drunken Flower House."