Chapter 2

Before Nightfall

The moon was slowly rising, and countless palace lanterns lit up the rear courtyard of the Zhou residence. Red lanterns hung one after another, casting a blood-like glow along the long corridor. Slender tassels hung from the eaves, swaying gently in the night breeze, making faint, rustling sounds.

Tonight, the Zhou family was hosting a small banquet to welcome Assistant Magistrate Cheng.

Assistant Magistrate Cheng was the newly appointed head of the Salt Transport Office, holding significant power over the salt tax in Yangzhou. Wealthy merchants scrambled to curry favor. Though the Zhou family had made their fortune in textiles, they too sought to establish some form of connection. And Ran Nannan became their best bargaining chip.

Since midday, she had been summoned to the inner courtyard for dressing and makeup.

The room was filled with the scent of soft sandalwood, nearly suffocating. The old maid personally painted her eyebrows and eyes, then dabbed rouge onto her lips with a fine brush—a light hue, like peach blossoms blooming on water.

In the bronze mirror, that face stared back at her: a pair of gently arched brows, eyes tinged with three parts shyness and seven parts charm. Ran Nannan stared at it for a long time before whispering,
“Granny… do I look… beautiful?”

The old maid glanced at her, a knowing smile on her lips.
“Beautiful beyond words. If you weren’t, would tonight even be possible?”

Ran Nannan lowered her gaze, fingers lightly gripping her skirt hem, saying nothing more.

When the Music Begins

Night had fully fallen, and the rear courtyard was already prepared for the banquet. A row of golden lanterns lit the hall, casting a warm glow over the guests’ faces.

Master Zhou sat beside Assistant Magistrate Cheng, smiling obsequiously and offering toasts frequently. Cheng was in his early forties, with a broad face and fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Though his smile seemed mild, his gaze kept drifting subtly westward—sharp and calculating, like a hawk.

“Master Zhou,” Cheng said slowly, toying with a jade thumb ring. “I’ve heard your daughter was raised in the Yangzhou tradition. Has she made any name for herself?”

Master Zhou immediately replied,
“My daughter is unworthy. Tonight, she only dares to humbly entertain. I beg your pardon, my lord.”

Cheng smiled but said nothing, swirling the wine in his cup as if to prompt the performance.

At that moment, the music began. First, a soft flute, then the pipa gently plucked, the melody flowing like spring water, rippling into the hearts of the guests.

Swaying Silk Skirts

The curtain was gently drawn aside by a maid, and Ran Nannan stepped in.

She wore a gown of sheer moon-white silk, a pale golden sash wrapped around her waist, drawing her figure into delicate curves. Under the mingling glow of moonlight and lamplight, her skin seemed to glisten with a soft radiance.

The old maid had repeated the instructions countless times: the first step slow, the second slightly sideways, the third with a gentle glance back, revealing a hint of shyness.

Ran Nannan followed the steps. Her light steps landed softly, her skirt brushing the stone tiles with a faint rustle. Guided by the music, she spun gracefully. Her long sleeves caught the air, causing the wine cups on the table to tremble slightly.

For a moment, the hall fell silent.

Someone whispered with a chuckle,
“What a beauty made of water.”

Cheng’s eyes were fixed on her, caught as if by a hook, unwavering.

Deeper into the Dance

Ran Nannan suppressed the panic welling inside her, raising her arms in practiced elegance, wrists tilted, waist turning. On the third turn, her head tilted slightly, eyes hinting at fear, lips curving into a faint, elusive smile.

Suddenly, the music quickened. The pipa’s strings turned sharp and urgent like falling rain. She had to spin swiftly with the tempo and nearly tripped on her long skirt.

A chill surged through her heart.

But she quickly regained her balance, raising her hand to her chest in mock shyness and lowering her head. The misstep instead added a delicate timidity, prompting soft laughter from the guests.

“Master Zhou truly raises them well,” someone said with a sly grin, lifting a cup. “If she were mine, I’d keep her locked away, not letting her take a single step outside.”

Master Zhou bowed and laughed.
“I wouldn’t dare—my lord jests.”

Cheng, however, only fiddled with his jade ring, his gaze lingering on her meaningfully—like he was calculating how best to unwrap this sugar-coated box.

Music Behind the Tears

The tune finally ended. Ran Nannan knelt lightly on the brocade carpet, her gaze lowered, palms already drenched in cold sweat.

Cheng spoke slowly,
“Master Zhou, a fine daughter indeed. Pick a good day soon and send her to my estate. I shall have her properly trained.”

Master Zhou nodded repeatedly, nearly bowing.
“My daughter is yours to command, my lord.”

Ran Nannan heard these words, and something stabbed deep into her chest. Still, she obediently lifted her head, her voice soft as a feather.
“Thank you for your grace, my lord.”

The light shone in her eyes, catching a glimmer like water—making her even more captivating.

Soft laughter rippled through the hall. Some were admiring, others veiled in ill intent.

A Fleeting Moment in the Garden

After the feast, the old maid led her to rest in the back garden.

“When the Cheng household sends someone to offer thanks, remember your manners. No showing nerves,” she said, giving Ran Nannan a push at the waist before turning to instruct the maids to fetch tea.

Ran Nannan slowly walked to the veranda, holding onto the stone railing. The moonlight pooled at her feet, cold and bone-deep.

The dance had soaked the hair at her temples with sweat, clinging to her face—she looked just like those girls in the back rooms of Qinghong Pavilion, chosen but not yet smiling, already choking on tears.

“If only I weren’t born so pretty…” she thought suddenly, her nose stinging.

Tears welled up violently.

She tried to wipe them away, but the more she did, the more they blurred—like a silent rain, washing away everything she had held in.

The Young Man in Blue

Suddenly, she heard light footsteps.

Ran Nannan quickly tried to wipe her tears and turned.

At the end of the corridor stood a figure bathed in moonlight. A young man in blue robes—handsome, distant, with a trace of chill in his refined features. He was the one who had silently watched her from behind the carved pillar at the last banquet.

He saw her crying and froze.

They stared at each other in silence.

After a long pause, the young man stepped closer, reached out his slender fingers, and gently wiped the tears from the corner of her eye.

His fingertips were cool, with a faint scent of tea leaves. Ran Nannan instinctively closed her eyes, tears sliding down her lashes as he softly brushed them away.

“…Poor girl,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, tinged with inexplicable sorrow.

Ran Nannan froze, wide-eyed. She wanted to say something, but her throat tightened, letting out only a faint sob.

But the young man suddenly seemed to realize something, quickly withdrew his hand, and turned to walk away into the moonlight.

Tear-Stained Under the Moon

The night wind rose, stirring the strands of pearl-decorated hair at her temple. Ran Nannan stood motionless, tears once again falling without restraint.

The hem of her dress grew wet with teardrops, darkening and spreading like plum blossoms scattered on the ground.

Behind her, the old maid came quickly, saw her reddened eyes, and scolded in a low, angry tone,
“At a time like this, still putting on airs? Stop that nonsense!”

Ran Nannan took a deep breath and forced the tears back, nodding gently.
“Yes.”

She followed the old maid back toward the courtyard.

Behind her, the moonlight was cold as water.

She dared not look back.