Chapter Twenty: Green Leaves Set Off Red Blossoms

The next morning, unlike usual, Madam Xu and the other three instructors did not urge the girls to assemble for training. Instead, they arrived with handmaids, bringing armfuls of dresses, hairpins, and jewelry. One by one, they dressed the young women and styled their hair, the scene so warm and tender that it resembled mothers preparing their daughters for marriage.

Lingran sat in a daze, offering no resistance as Yuan’er, already dressed and ready, began to knot her hair.

After a while, Yuan’er, who had been caught up in everyone’s excited chatter, finally noticed Lingran’s unusual silence. Normally, Lingran was quite talkative, but today, of all days, when everyone else was busy discussing the news, she hadn’t said a word. Unable to contain her curiosity, Yuan’er asked, “Sister, what’s wrong with you today?”

“Did you all… not notice that Mo Suoxian is missing?” Lingran hesitated, unable to hold back any longer. She realized she was not cut out for undercover work.

Yuan’er glanced around, a little puzzled. “Who knows where she is? She’s always coming and going like a ghost.”

Biqing, who was sitting nearby, overheard and said loudly, “She didn’t come back last night. Maybe she escaped.”

“Nonsense!” Madam Xu, hearing this, hurried over and explained, “I forgot to tell you all—last night Chief Inspector Liu arrived at Xun Yun Villa. For some reason, Mo Suoxian offended him and was sold to Pingkang Alley.”

Shen Zhu and the others drew in a sharp breath, their faces showing fear and panic.

Lingran knew that Pingkang Alley was probably a euphemism for a brothel, but she didn’t understand why the others seemed even more afraid than if they’d been sent to a government music house.

Catching Lingran’s confused look in the mirror, Yuan’er—already accustomed to Lingran’s naiveté—explained, “That’s… that’s what they call the lower-class brothels. I’ve heard that women sent there, if they have even a trace of beauty, are forced to receive guests again and again, until… there’s nothing left of them.”

Lingran lowered her gaze, struggling to hide the turmoil in her heart.

For someone young, beautiful, and proud like Mo Suoxian, such a punishment was surely worse than death! Peng Lun was indeed ruthless.

Madam Xu seized the moment to admonish the girls: “Mo Suoxian serves as a warning. The Prime Minister’s residence is nothing like here; as they say, ‘Entering a noble household is like stepping into the sea.’ You must bring honor to Chief Liu and General Peng. Never follow her example. Remember to think carefully before you act, be mindful of what you say, and never speak lightly—lest you meet a similar fate.”

The girls all nodded in agreement.

“All done!” Yuan’er fixed a trembling golden hairpin in Lingran’s coiffure, beneath which was a lake-blue silk flower. She added a string of pearls around Lingran’s neck, and in an instant, Lingran shone with a new brilliance.

“You really are a beauty!” Yuan’er praised sincerely, pulling Lingran up to twirl in front of the full-length mirror. “Your forehead was always hidden before, so no one could tell. Now that you’re dressed up, your beauty is plain to see.”

In the mirror stood a girl as delicate as a narcissus. Lingran glanced at herself, then at the others, all beautifully adorned, each with her own charm and grace.

Xu Shanquan and Shen Zhu, overhearing Yuan’er’s praise, also looked at Lingran. Xu Shanquan arched her willow brows but said nothing, while Shen Zhu snorted softly, remarking, “True beauty needs no embellishment.”

Lingran looked again at her own reflection—elegant, ethereal, almost dreamlike. Though her features and figure were not the finest among them, there was something about her that was simply the most pleasing. Her heart skipped a beat. “This is bad,” she thought, “I can’t appear before someone like Chu Liuxiang looking like this. Even if he doesn’t have a peculiar taste, I can’t risk the slightest chance…” Yet she was no fool; she knew that today was Chief Liu’s inspection, and she must not draw any undue attention.

Seeing that everyone was ready, Madam Xu called them to line up in two rows, led by the four instructors, and brought them to a large courtyard.

All around the courtyard stood rows of banners, black with white characters, neatly aligned and imposing.

Lingran looked up and saw titles such as “Commander of the Western Censorate,” “Chief Eunuch of the Imperial Stables,” “Commander of the Warriors’ Camp,” “Commander of the Four Guards of Tengxiang,” “Commander of the Regiment Camp,” “Chief Eunuch of the Imperial Household,” and many more—so many grand titles, all exuding authority and power.

Madam Xu and the others, respectful and solemn, led the nine young women to the center of the courtyard. Before the main hall were two grand armchairs. On the left sat Liu Yongcheng, whom Lingran recognized. Today, he wore a dragon-embroidered robe and a black gauze hat adorned with two golden flowers. His face was pale and beardless, his hair white yet his features youthful, exuding an air of nobility.

On the right sat a man with a ruddy face and short mustache, dressed in a jade-belted ceremonial robe. He appeared to be around fifty, vigorous and sharp-eyed—a high-ranking official, clearly.

Peng Lun also wore a golden helmet in the shape of a soaring phoenix, golden scale armor over a crimson official robe embroidered with dragons and phoenixes, the sun and moon on either side, and a delicate, intricate belt at his waist. He stood next to the official in ceremonial dress, his gaze sweeping over each of the young women, lingering briefly on Lingran, a faint ripple flickering in his eyes.

Under the instructors’ guidance, the girls offered formal greetings with graceful voices. Liu Yongcheng, wearing a kindly smile, bade them rise and turned to the official, saying, “Ju’er, what do you think?”

The man addressed as Ju’er scrutinized the nine women, then burst into hearty laughter. “Excellent, excellent! Lun’er’s taste is beyond reproach. I trust my nephew’s judgment, and with Uncle overseeing things, I have no worries at all—even if I didn’t look myself.”

With his mentor calling his name, Peng Lun finally averted his gaze, his lips twitching awkwardly.

Liu Yongcheng laughed as well. “Still, we must see how well they have been trained. After today, these girls will no longer be ours. In the future, we may even have to treat some of them with the utmost respect.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted meaningfully over the young women.

Lingran thought to herself that this old fox, seasoned from years in the palace, was truly a master. With just a few words, he left them all with endless possibilities. Each of these girls, feeling like fallen phoenixes, must secretly yearn to soar again. There was no need for further hints—they would strive their hardest on their own.

Ju’er replied deferentially to Liu Yongcheng, “Whatever Uncle wishes to do—even if it takes all night—I will keep you company, especially when it’s such a delightful occasion.” With that, he signaled to Peng Lun.

Peng Lun bowed slightly and gestured to Madam Xu and the others.

The four instructors dispersed to either side. Only then did Lingran notice a group of musicians seated cross-legged beneath a large tree, a thick carpet laid over the ground and topped with a large bamboo mat. Yuyun clapped her hands softly, and the elegant strains of silk and bamboo instruments filled the air.

They played the introduction to “Autumn Thoughts by the Dressing Table,” a piece everyone had rehearsed many times. With a glance from Yuyun, each girl took her place, and they began to dance with gentle grace.

Although in her previous life Lingran had been awkward and clumsy, this new body was supple and delicate. While not the most outstanding, she had no trouble blending in with the group.

Shen Zhu was the lead in this dance, beginning with a playful stretch and then reclining languidly by the dressing table, her every movement exuding lazy allure.

The audience saw before them a beauty listening intently to the wind and rain outside her window, lifting the curtain—her radiance outshone the yellow flowers. Morning light spilled softly over her delicate features, her jade arms gleaming, her snow-white wrists gleaming like frost, casting a dreamy, indistinct scene.

As she spun and leapt, time seemed to shift and fade… At the end, it was as if she had witnessed all the impermanence of life, all its bitterness, and now, in the deep of night, lay alone in the dust—heartbreakingly beautiful.

The other eight girls played the parts of wind, rain, and green leaves. With Shen Zhu’s impeccable grace and movement, the entire performance made the beauty seem like living jade, tugging at every heartstring.

Ju’er watched, mouth agape, his eyes filled with deep regret and longing.

As for Lingran, she was more than satisfied with her current role as a mere backdrop.