“Your Highness, Your Highness?” Seeing Feng Xuanyi standing still upon the steps, Qing Qi called out softly, her expression tense, afraid that in her moment of overconfidence she might have truly offended him—if so, her days in Qunfang Courtyard would not be easy thereafter.
Feng Xuanyi pressed his lips into a faint smile and waved his hand to indicate that it was nothing. Turning slightly to the madam beside him, he said, “Have He Yin come to attend me alone.”
With that, he ascended the stairs and pushed open the room he usually occupied.
The madam dared not delay. She dismissed Qing Qin, Qing Qi, Qing Shu, and Qing Hua, then sent someone to summon He Yin, while she herself hurried off to personally prepare wine and dishes.
If Qing Qin, Qing Qi, Qing Shu, and Qing Hua were beauties whom even ten thousand taels of gold might fail to secure a meeting with, they were still, at the end of the day, obtainable with silver—provided the timing was right, the sincerity sufficient, and the payment to their liking. He Yin, however, was different. Her eccentric temperament was beyond even the madam’s control. It could only be said that she was too beautiful—the true number one beauty of the imperial capital, the living emblem of Qunfang Courtyard. Yet very few had ever seen her true face. Even the other courtesans in the establishment had scarcely done so. She always wore a veil, and precisely because of this, the rumors surrounding her only grew more extravagant. In time, tales arose claiming that even a glimpse of her silhouette was worth losing one’s entire fortune—such stories only elevated this enigmatic woman, whose true visage remained unseen, to ever greater heights.
Her reputedly strange temperament was no baseless rumor. Those born into the world of courtesans all had their reasons, but ultimately, they lived by silver. Though there were also courtesans who sold only their art and not their bodies, over time, once accustomed to such a life of song and revelry—and with the madams subtly urging or employing various means—it often became impossible to avoid selling oneself.
He Yin, however, was an exception. At times she seemed to have no need for money, and yet at other times she appeared to lack it. Some were granted a glimpse of her beauty for a mere tael of silver, while others could squander their entire fortune without earning even a single disdainful glance. For certain individuals, she would even pay out of her own pocket just to meet them. This left people both amused and bewildered, unable to make sense of her ways. Yet no matter how the meeting came about, anyone who had seen He Yin even once would leave utterly stunned.
Many had tried to glean some clue from those who had seen her, hoping to commission painters to capture her likeness and thus make a great profit. Yet astonishingly, all who had seen her emerged in a daze. Ask them anything, and they would only respond vaguely, claiming they could not remember—yet they could clearly utter a single word: beauty. And so, this only added another layer of legend and allure to the famed courtesan He Yin of the imperial capital.
As for the current Fifth Prince, Prince Rong, Feng Xuanyi—not only did he indulge in the pleasures of the flower districts, he was also one of He Yin’s favored patrons, and a frequent visitor besides.
Three soft knocks sounded at the door. Before Feng Xuanyi could respond, the door was gently pushed open. A woman in a simple white gown, draped in a sheer white outer robe, stepped in gracefully. Her long black hair bore no adornment of jewels or ornaments, falling loosely down her back, tied only at the center with a strip of white silk. Untouched by dust, she lived up to her name, like a white lotus rising unstained from the mud. She seemed utterly out of place in such surroundings—pure and refined, like a celestial maiden who had mistakenly fallen into the mortal world. Her features were like a painting, distant and serene, untouched by worldly concerns or the pursuit of fame and wealth, as though nothing beneath the heavens could enter her gaze.
Even now, though she faced the Fifth Prince, Prince Rong Feng Xuanyi, she merely knocked three times out of courtesy before entering. She carried herself with neither servility nor arrogance, walked in calmly, and sat beside him without the slightest concern for propriety. Yet Feng Xuanyi took no offense. Resting his chin on his hand, he watched as the servants placed the wine and dishes upon the table before withdrawing. His gaze then slowly shifted to He Yin, whose lips held a faint smile from beginning to end—yet one that was unmistakably distant.
“Recently, I’ve heard your reputation has only been growing greater and greater—so much so that many princes and nobles come here out of admiration, only to leave in defeat. You’ve truly improved more and more,” Feng Xuanyi clicked his tongue in admiration.
“Thank you.” He Yin remained noncommittal. She casually lifted a cup of tea, bringing it to her lips to lightly inhale its fragrance. “It seems, Your Highness, that your tastes are no longer what they used to be. This is this year’s finest Biluochun. The madam had people travel great distances just to obtain this small amount. I hear it costs its weight in gold—one tael of gold for one tael of tea. She treasures it dearly and rarely lets anyone even see it. Yet today, it has been served to Your Highness.”
Feng Xuanyi picked up the teacup before him, using one finger to lift the lid and gently stir aside the tea leaves that had unfurled upon contact with water. At once, a delicate fragrance rose, fresh and elegant. He could not help but praise, “It truly is fine tea—but isn’t this all thanks to you, Miss He Yin?”
He picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of mixed shredded delicacies. Though the dish was simple, it was an understated signature dish of Qunfang Courtyard. After all, Qunfang Courtyard was a place of pleasure and indulgence, and Feng Xuanyi himself was well known for frequenting such places. Thus, the servants had barely finished serving the dishes before hurrying out, not daring to linger, afraid that any misstep might disturb the establishment’s prized attraction and the prince’s affairs. Yet what was truly astonishing was that once the doors were closed, the atmosphere became entirely refined and restrained.
And Feng Xuanyi did not seem in any hurry. Or perhaps he had no such intentions at all. It was as though Qunfang Courtyard were merely his own backyard—simply a place to meet a familiar acquaintance, order a bit of wine and food, and chat idly.
“Your Highness might as well speak plainly. Everyone’s time is precious. Though the food here is good, it can never compare to the delicacies of the prince’s residence,” she said—yet it was she, merely a courtesan, who issued what was essentially a dismissal.
Feng Xuanyi, however, showed not the slightest displeasure, as though he had heard nothing at all. He continued leisurely eating and drinking. Only after a long while did he speak slowly, “You may attend to your business. I’ll wait here for Xuanji to arrive.”
At these words, He Yin, who had just been distant and aloof, suddenly stiffened. In the next instant, she replaced her expression with one of gentle charm and alluring grace—so swiftly it happened in the blink of an eye. Her previously upright, distant posture seemed to melt, as if boneless, becoming soft and yielding like a willow in the wind. She leaned into Feng Xuanyi’s embrace. Her hair, disrupted by her sudden, almost lightning-fast movement, fell slightly out of place. With one hand, she snatched the chopsticks from his grasp and attentively served him food.
Feng Xuanyi showed no surprise, as if such behavior were entirely routine. He accepted it without hesitation, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his embrace, enjoying the unsolicited attentions of someone throwing herself into his arms—serving dishes and pouring wine.
Was He Yin beautiful? The answer was, of course, yes. Yet if before she had been beautiful in a distant, untouchable way—so aloof that one dared neither approach nor profane her—then now she was something else entirely: alluring and captivating. Though she wore no jewels or ornaments, her charm surpassed any adornment. Her eyes brimmed with warmth, her red lips slightly parted. She now seemed less like an untouchable cold beauty and more like a living, breathing woman—one who could be approached, desired, and understood.
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