Chapter Twelve: A Heart Like a Viper

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The Drunken Flower Pavilion in North Gu City was among the most renowned establishments of its kind. Its decoration and layout adhered to an elegant style, exuding a subtle and refined beauty far beyond the usual brothel. It was like a veiled maiden standing gracefully amidst a crowd of bare-chested women; her every gesture and movement, faint yet alluring, stirred the most primal desires in the hearts of men, igniting their boundless curiosity.

Despite the heavy snowfall and biting cold outside, the Drunken Flower Pavilion remained brightly lit and filled with laughter. Several charcoal braziers were placed in corners, making the interior far warmer than the frigid street. Compared to the boisterous summer crowds, the atmosphere was somewhat subdued now, yet occasional scholars and gentlemen still came by reputation, adding a touch of cultured grace to the place.

At that moment, Clerk Wu hurried through the pavilion’s door, clutching a tightly wrapped bundle. He wore a dark blue robe and a hair crown; his appearance was unremarkable, unlikely to attract a second glance on any busy street. Yet his prominent nose stood out sharply like a mountain peak, lending his plain face a hint of strength and resolve.

The girls inside quickly spotted him and greeted him with smiles. "Ah, Clerk Wu, here to see Sister Shiyun again today?" One dancer, swaying in a patron’s arms, caught sight of the bundle in his grasp and exclaimed, "Oh, Clerk Wu, have you gathered enough silver to redeem Sister Shiyun?"

Wu’s spirits lifted instantly. He lifted his chin and puffed out his chest to appear more manly, then declared loudly, "Indeed. Take me to the madam. I’ve collected the silver to free Shiyun."

"Right away! I’ll take you to Mother now." A sultry woman, dressed provocatively with her chest partly bare, approached, flicking a silk scarf and batting her eyelashes at Wu. "Follow me, Clerk Wu."

A sudden dizziness overcame Wu; he shook his head involuntarily and staggered as if drunk. Despite his unsteady steps, he gritted his teeth and struggled to follow the alluring woman upstairs to the second floor.

Inside, the pavilion was ablaze with light and music, a stark contrast to the street just across from the building.

That street was like another world—dark as ink, with winds sharp as blades, howling as if intent on tearing everything apart.

In a shadowed corner stood a stooped old woman. Though her clothes were faded, she was meticulously neat. Deep lines of time etched her face as her eyes fixed on the Drunken Flower Pavilion not far away, her gaze heavy with complexity.

Seeing the familiar figure step inside caused her to shudder slightly; the wrinkles on her face seemed to deepen, and a tide of sorrow nearly overwhelmed her.

"Zhe’er, why won’t you listen to your mother? Why are you so obsessed with that courtesan?" Her trembling lips whispered, but the cold wind swallowed her words instantly.

Above, on the second floor opposite the old woman, Yiheng stood silently in the darkness.

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