Shen Yan finished tying his belt with the calm of a man who had already made his decision.
The room still smelled faintly of steam and skin and yesterday's incense. The bed behind him was a soft mess—quilts rumpled, pillows shifted, a faint imprint where Ruyin had slept curled against his arm like she belonged there.
Ruyin sat up slowly, hair loose around her shoulders, robe pulled tight at her chest. She tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed—
—and immediately winced, hand flying to her waist.
Shen Yan was there before she could pretend it hadn't happened. He crouched in front of her, palms resting lightly on her knees. "Don't," he said.
Ruyin's cheeks warmed. "I just wanted to send you off," she whispered, stubborn in the way only gentle people could be.
"You sent me off last night," Shen Yan replied, voice amused. Then his eyes softened. "Rest today."
Ruyin bit her lip. "But—"
Shen Yan kissed her forehead, quick and tender. "No buts," he murmured. "You'll only make it worse."
Ruyin's lashes fluttered. Her gaze dropped, then lifted again as if she was trying to memorize his face before it disappeared down the stairs.
"Will you… come back soon?" she asked.
The question was quiet, small. But it landed heavier than the night's laughter.
Shen Yan didn't answer like a man dodging. He answered like a man making a promise carefully.
"Yes," he said. "I'll be back."
Ruyin's shoulders eased a fraction. She nodded, then went silent—unsure what words were allowed to exist between them now.
At the table, Hao Lianhua lounged with her chin propped on her hand, watching the whole exchange like a cat watching a bird discover it could fly.
She leaned toward Ruyin and whispered loud enough to be heard anyway. "Tell him you love him."
Ruyin froze so hard it looked like the poison tried to make a comeback out of spite.
Her face turned crimson. Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Lianhua's eyes sparkled with evil delight.
Shen Yan straightened, suppressing a laugh. "Sister Lianhua," he warned mildly, "if you tease her into fainting, Madam Mei will invoice you."
Lianhua waved her hand. "She won't faint," she said. "She'll just short-circuit."
Ruyin covered her face with her sleeve, mortified beyond speech.
Shen Yan's smile softened as he looked at her. "Rest," he repeated gently.
Ruyin nodded again, still hiding.
Shen Yan turned toward the door, and Lianhua rose with him, smooth as silk.
"I'll escort you down," she said, as if he were a visiting dignitary and she weren't the Pavilion's jewel.
Ruyin peeked through her sleeve, eyes following them until the door slid shut.
---
The corridor on the third floor was quiet, but it wasn't empty.
It held the kind of silence that listened. The kind that remembered footsteps.
Lianhua walked close to Shen Yan as they descended, her sleeve brushing his arm, her gaze sliding across his face as if she were trying to find a flaw that hadn't been there yesterday.
"You look different," she said at last, voice thoughtful.
Shen Yan didn't glance at her. "More handsome?"
Lianhua huffed. "You were already unbearable."
Shen Yan's fan sat tucked in his sleeve again, but he didn't need it. His posture was relaxed, his steps steady, and something in his presence had shifted—subtle, like a blade that had been sharpened and polished without changing shape.
Lianhua narrowed her eyes. "No," she said. "Not that. You look…" She waved her fingers, searching. "More settled. Like you're wearing your skin properly."
Shen Yan's mouth twitched. "So you're saying I was sloppy before."
"I'm saying you felt like a boy playing a man," Lianhua replied, blunt as only someone accustomed to stripping masks could be. "Now you feel like a man playing a boy."
Shen Yan laughed softly. "Careful. If you talk like that, people will think you're interested."
Lianhua's eyes flashed. "Don't be arrogant."
Shen Yan leaned slightly closer. "So you're not interested?"
Lianhua reached out and pinched his waist sharply.
Shen Yan didn't flinch.
He didn't even inhale.
Lianhua's fingers paused in mid-pinching outrage. "Hey—!"
She pinched again, harder.
Shen Yan glanced down at her hand as if it were a curious insect. "What?"
"You're not reacting," Lianhua accused, offended. "You're not cute."
Shen Yan's mouth curled. "Men aren't supposed to be cute."
Lianhua scoffed. "Men can be cute when they're suffering."
Shen Yan's eyes smiled. "You have strange hobbies."
Lianhua crossed her arms, pouting. "Hmph."
Shen Yan lifted his brows. "Besides," he added, "women like bad boys. If I'm cool and unbothered, shouldn't you be more interested?"
Lianhua rolled her eyes so dramatically it was a wonder they didn't fall out. "I've seen bad boys," she said. "I've seen good boys pretending to be bad. I've seen scholars who write poems about virtue and spend their nights begging for ankles."
Her lips curled. "Nothing about it is interesting anymore."
Shen Yan chuckled. "So what is interesting?"
Lianhua glanced at him sideways. "A man who doesn't lie to himself," she said. Then, as if she'd given too much sincerity, she snapped her gaze forward again and quickened her pace. "Hurry. Your guard will be whining outside."
---
The first floor smelled like morning regret.
Patrons sprawled on couches and cushions in various states of collapse—hair undone, collars loose, faces slack. Some slept with cups still in hand. Others sat upright, heads bowed, clutching their temples like they were trying to squeeze out last night's decisions.
Servants moved through them like a practiced army.
"Sir," one maid murmured, tapping a shoulder gently, "it is morning."
A groan answered.
Another servant carried a tray of hangover food—thin congee, pickled vegetables, a bowl of sour soup meant to wrestle wine back into obedience. He stepped around a noble's boot as if dodging a trap.
In the corner, a clerk-type patron sat with eyes bloodshot, whispering urgently to a courtesan about how he'd sworn he was done gambling, truly done, this time done.
The courtesan smiled as if she believed him. Her eyes said she'd heard it a hundred times.
Shen Yan walked through the chaos like a regular.
He didn't look embarrassed. He didn't look proud. He looked… accustomed.
Lianhua watched him from half a step behind, and for a brief moment, her expression turned distant—as if comparing him to the young masters who tried to sneak out of side doors, cloaked and sweating, terrified their reputations might be stained by the very pleasure they'd paid for.
Shen Yan didn't use the side door.
He headed straight for the main entrance.
Lianhua tilted her head. "Bold," she commented.
Shen Yan shrugged. "If I'm going to be shameless, I might as well be consistent."
The main doors opened.
Cold morning air hit Shen Yan's face, clean and sharp after the Pavilion's incense and wine. Street sounds poured in—vendors calling, carts rattling, the distant shout of a man chasing a dog that had stolen something edible.
And there, just outside the gate, stood Rui Shanjin.
He looked like he hadn't slept and wanted everyone to suffer for it.
Arms crossed. Eyes narrowed. Mouth set in a line of complaint.
He was holding Shen Yan's fan with both hands like it was a sacred artifact and a personal insult.
"You're late," Shanjin said immediately.
Shen Yan lifted his brows. "It's morning."
"It's late morning," Shanjin snapped. "I've been standing here listening to drunk idiots snore and rich idiots vomit."
Shen Yan reached out and took the fan from him like it weighed nothing. Shanjin's hands flexed as if relieved to be free.
"Did your arms recover?" Shen Yan asked pleasantly.
Shanjin's eyes flashed. "One day, Third Young Master, I will throw that fan into a river."
"You'll miss," Shen Yan said again, smiling.
Shanjin made a sound that was halfway between a growl and a sigh.
Lianhua stepped to the doorway, smile returning. She looked at Shen Yan like she was trying to memorize him now instead of Ruyin.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
The sincerity in those words was sharper than any tease.
Shen Yan's expression softened. "Take care of her," he replied.
Lianhua nodded once. "I will."
Shen Yan turned to leave.
As he stepped out from the Pavilion gate, the street vendors clustered nearby greeted him like it was normal to see a young master exiting a brothel at dawn.
"Ah, Young Master Shen!"
"Morning! How was your night?"
"Want buns? Fresh buns!"
Shanjin muttered, "No shame."
Shen Yan ignored him and approached the bun vendor—a middle-aged man with oil stains on his apron and tired eyes that still held stubborn life.
The vendor grinned. "Young Master! Two buns? Three?"
Shen Yan sniffed the steam, then nodded. "Three."
He paid without haggling and took the paper-wrapped buns. He tore one in half and tossed it to Shanjin.
Shanjin caught it one-handed easily, then glared at Shen Yan as if daring him to comment on the contrast to last night's fan fiasco.
Shen Yan took a bite of his own bun, chewing thoughtfully. "Better," he said.
The vendor's grin brightened. "Better?"
"The dough is lighter," Shen Yan said, voice casual, as if commenting on weather. "And you didn't over-salt the filling this time."
The vendor's eyes shone. "Young Master remembered!"
Shen Yan hummed. "Hard to forget salt attacking your tongue."
The vendor laughed, then lowered his voice, suddenly shy. "I… I listened to what you said last time," he admitted. "Changed the steaming time. Used a bit more scallion. Sold more this week."
Shen Yan nodded, taking another bite.
The vendor's throat bobbed. "Enough to buy medicine for my son," he added quickly, as if worried saying it aloud might invite bad luck.
Shen Yan paused.
Shanjin, chewing, also paused.
The vendor scratched his head awkwardly, smile tight. "So… thank you," he said. "Not many… people tell a vendor like me anything but complaints."
Shen Yan swallowed, then simply nodded, as if this was nothing worth making a scene over. "Keep selling," he said. "And keep the salt under control."
The vendor's grin returned, relieved to have the moment smoothed. "Yes! Yes, Young Master!"
Shen Yan stepped away, bun still steaming in his hand.
Lianhua stood at the Pavilion doorway watching.
Her smile was faint now, thoughtful in a way that didn't suit her usual teasing mask.
She watched Shen Yan walk through the street like he belonged to it—not above it. She watched him toss food to a guard like it was natural. She watched the vendor's grateful eyes.
Then she exhaled softly.
"So different," she murmured, too quiet for anyone but herself.
She turned and slipped back inside the Pavilion, silk whispering behind her like a secret.
---
Back upstairs, Lu Ruyin sat propped against pillows, robe wrapped tight around her, hair still damp at the ends from earlier.
Her sect sisters clustered around her bed like worried birds. Courtesans hovered too, curiosity and affection mixing in their eyes.
"Are you warm?" one sect girl asked, pressing a hand to Ruyin's wrist.
Ruyin blinked, then nodded slowly. "I… think so."
A courtesan leaned closer, eyes narrowing as she felt Ruyin's forearm. "Not as cold," she murmured. "Still a little, but… better."
The girls exchanged glances.
One of the sect sisters—young, anxious—whispered, "Does it still hurt?"
Ruyin's cheeks colored. "Not… like before," she admitted, voice soft. "When I move, I don't feel that deep pain anymore."
The courtesans' eyes lit with understanding.
"Ah," one teased immediately, smiling wickedly. "So only sore pain."
Ruyin's face went red. "Sister—!"
Another courtesan giggled. "Tell us! How was your first night with Young Master Shen?"
A third, who'd spent time with Shen Yan before, chimed in. "He's good, isn't he?"
The sect girls looked scandalized and fascinated all at once, like they wanted to cover their ears but leaned closer instead.
Ruyin tried to hide behind her sleeve again, but this time the sleeve didn't feel like enough.
"He… took care of me," she said quietly. "And… yes. I enjoyed it."
The room erupted into delighted noises.
"See? We told you!"
"He's gentle when he wants to be!"
One courtesan tilted her head, studying Ruyin's face. "You look prettier," she said.
Ruyin blinked. "Prettier?"
The courtesan nodded firmly. "Not just makeup. Your eyes look brighter. Your skin… it's like you're reborn."
Another courtesan leaned in, grinning. "Reborn? She's reborn reborn. Look at her waist. Even tighter. Even sexier."
Ruyin made a strangled sound. "Stop looking!"
The girls laughed merrily, the tension that had gripped them for days finally breaking. Relief made them bold.
"So," one courtesan sang, "Young Master Shen must have taken extra care of you last night."
Ruyin's blush climbed up her neck. "He— he was just…"
"Just what?" the courtesan pressed, grinning. "Just a wolf?"
Ruyin hid her face in the pillow, muffled. "Just… good."
Laughter rang brighter, and this time it wasn't jealous laughter. It was happy laughter—the kind that came from knowing a sister wouldn't die of cold poison in her sleep.
A knock sounded.
The girls straightened immediately.
Madam Mei entered first, expression composed, eyes sharp. Hao Lianhua followed behind her, looking far too pleased with herself for someone who'd just left a scandal in the street.
"Madam," the girls greeted, bowing.
"Out," Madam Mei said calmly, not unkind. "Let her rest."
The courtesans and sect girls filed out, still giggling, still teasing Ruyin softly.
"Rest, Sister Ruyin."
"Take care of yourself."
"Don't let him bully you too much next time."
Ruyin's face disappeared into the pillow again.
When the door slid shut, quiet returned.
Madam Mei sat at the table without asking. Lianhua leaned against a screen, arms crossed, smug.
Madam Mei's gaze went straight to Ruyin. "How is your condition?"
Ruyin sat up carefully, still sore, but she moved with less fear. "Much better," she said honestly. "The cold… it feels suppressed. I can feel it, Madam. It's still there, but… it's not choking me anymore."
Madam Mei's eyes softened a fraction. "Good."
Lianhua, unable to resist, added, "She's glowing."
Ruyin shot her a look that held no real anger, only embarrassment.
Madam Mei's gaze sharpened again. "Did it flare in the night?"
Ruyin shook her head. "No."
Madam Mei's fingers tapped once on the table, thoughtful. "Then the worst is past," she murmured. "If it doesn't flare again in the next few days, it may not flare at all."
Ruyin's breath released in a shaky exhale. Relief trembled through her.
Then Lianhua spoke, tone casual. "Young Master Shen knew."
Madam Mei's eyes snapped to her. "Knew what?"
Lianhua tilted her head. "About the yin poison."
Ruyin's cheeks warmed again. "He… said he could tell," she admitted. "He knew it was yin-type. He didn't say the name, but… he knew."
Madam Mei went still.
For a long moment, she didn't speak. Her eyes turned inward, calculating.
Shen Yan was an escort clan's young master. A clever boy, yes. A frequent patron, yes. A man with broken meridians who trained like he was trying to outrun pity.
But poison knowledge? Yin poison? Near inner core?
That wasn't common.
That wasn't "brothel gossip."
Madam Mei's gaze lifted to Ruyin again. "Are you worried?" she asked quietly.
Ruyin's eyes widened. "Will he be in trouble?" she blurted. "If people think he— he interfered, or—"
Madam Mei's lips curved slightly. "Trouble?" she echoed, gentle now. "Child, in Xiapi, everyone is already in trouble. The question is whose trouble is sharper."
Ruyin swallowed, anxious. "I don't want him harmed because of me."
Madam Mei's expression softened further, and a faint amusement entered her eyes. "Ah," she murmured. "So it begins."
Ruyin stiffened. "Madam, it's not—"
Madam Mei waved a hand lightly. "Don't worry. I'm not scolding you." Her tone turned dry. "I can't beat a girl in love. She'll only cling harder."
Ruyin's face went flaming red. "I'm not in love!"
Her denial came out too fast, too loud.
Then she realized how it sounded and stammered into silence.
Lianhua's grin turned wicked. "Not in love?" she echoed. "Then why were you blushing like you wanted to melt into the mattress when he kissed your forehead?"
Ruyin's mouth opened. No defense came out.
Lianhua leaned forward, gleeful. "Also," she continued, "I'm jealous."
Ruyin blinked, startled. "Jealous?"
Lianhua sighed dramatically. "He dried your hair," she said, as if accusing Shen Yan of a crime. "Carefully. Like you were some precious thing."
Ruyin's blush deepened again.
Lianhua's eyes glittered. "I've never heard him dry any other sister like that."
Ruyin tried to hide her face with her sleeve, but even her sleeve seemed too small for the heat burning her cheeks.
Madam Mei watched the two of them—one teasing, one flustered—then let out a quiet breath.
Her gaze turned toward the closed door, toward the world beyond this room.
Shen Yan's knowledge was a thread.
Threads could be pulled.
Threads could also become nooses.
Madam Mei tapped the table once, decision settling like a stone.
"We'll be discreet," she said calmly.
Lianhua's grin faded into something attentive. "About what?"
Madam Mei's eyes narrowed. "About him," she replied. "And about you."
Ruyin's heart skipped. "Madam?"
Madam Mei looked at her gently. "Rest," she said. "Heal. Let your body stabilize."
Then her gaze sharpened again, turning practical. "And if you truly don't want him harmed," she added, "stop denying your feelings so loudly. Denials attract ears."
Ruyin froze, horrified.
Lianhua laughed softly. "Madam is right," she purred.
Madam Mei rose, smoothing her sleeve. "I have work."
At the door, she paused and glanced back once, eyes lingering on Ruyin's warmed face.
"Also," she said quietly, "if Young Master Shen chooses the main door again tomorrow, we may need to start charging him extra for the rumors."
Lianhua's smile returned, bright. "He'll pay," she said.
Ruyin clutched her robe, heart pounding, cheeks burning, unsure whether she was more frightened by danger or by the fact that she wanted him to come back anyway.