Yelena slipped the bathing robe from my shoulders and began dressing me with careful reverence. I had told her beforehand never to reveal that my scar had healed, and she had nodded solemnly, her voice calm and steady. "Your Grace, be sure to trust me with this matter."
I smiled faintly. She was genuine, a maiden who valued honesty above all else.
She unfolded the gown laid upon the tray—a red hanfu robe, long and flowing, its silk embroidered with golden phoenixes and lotus blossoms. The wide sleeves draped elegantly, each movement catching the lantern light. A crimson sash cinched my waist, while the layered fabric cascaded to the floor like a river of fire.
Yelena slipped delicate shoes onto my feet, embroidered with gold thread. She adorned my hair with gold ornaments—intricate combs, dangling tassels, and filigree pieces that shimmered like sunlight. My auburn hair stood out against the brilliance, a crown of flame beneath the ornaments. Around my neck, strands of gold jewelry cascaded in layers, while my hands bore rings and bracelets that chimed softly when I moved.
Finally, she placed a veil upon my head, trailing down my back, and another across my face, leaving only my eyes visible—bright, mysterious, and unyielding. She handed me a fan, its silk painted with blossoms, completing the transformation.
Yelena stepped back, her eyes wide. "Your Grace… you look stunning."
I smiled briefly, though the weight of destiny pressed against me.
"Shall I bring food for you to eat?" she asked.
I shook my head. "Don't trouble yourself. How about a walk around the manors?"
Her expression faltered, and she bowed, placing her hands upon her stomach. "Your Grace, I dare not disagree with you. Yet I would rather we not go for a walk. If we meet Lady Ophelia… she might send you to the Cold Palace this time."
Her words lingered like a warning, the shadow of Ophelia's malice stretching even into this moment of beauty.
I smirked. "Ophelia may be a schemer, but every scheme is only as strong as the mind behind it. And behind every schemer, there is always someone more calculative… and that someone is me."
Yelena bowed gracefully. "If you say so, Your Grace." She rose, opened the door, and stepped aside.
Together we emerged from the chamber. Two guards stood at what resembled a bridge leading toward my manor, a pool glistening beside it, reflecting the lantern light.
I walked forward with deliberate elegance, pressing my fan lightly against my palm. The guards lowered their heads, clanging their swords to the ground in unison. "Greetings, Your Grace," they intoned.
I did not speak. My silence was its own command. I moved swiftly across the bridge, the silk of my hanfu trailing like fire behind me. Yelena hurried to catch up, her steps quick but careful, her eyes darting nervously toward the shadows.
The air was heavy with reverence, yet beneath it lingered unease—every bow, every greeting, every clang of steel reminded me that I was both honored and watched.
Princess Ophelia sat before her mirror, her fingers tracing the edge of its frame as though searching for answers in her own reflection. A knock broke the silence.
"Come in," she said coldly.
The door opened, and a maiden entered, bowing her head with hands pressed to her stomach. "Greetings to Your Grace."
"Kneel," Ophelia commanded.
The maiden obeyed instantly, lowering herself to the floor.
"Tell me," Ophelia's voice was sharp, "has she truly lost her memory?"
"Yes, Your Grace," the maiden replied softly.
Ophelia narrowed her eyes. "I don't trust her. I want you to return as her head maiden. Dig deeper. I don't believe she agreed to the marriage so easily."
The maiden—Keya—hesitated. "It is… difficult, Your Grace. She was frightened when she saw me."
"That will be dealt with," Ophelia snapped. Her tone carried the weight of threat. "Do not dare fail me, Keya. Do not forget what I am capable of."
Keya shivered, her voice trembling. "Y‑yes, Your Grace."
Ophelia signaled for her to rise. Keya bowed once more, murmured her goodbyes, and left quickly, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Moments later, another maiden entered—Dana, Ophelia's most trusted attendant. She closed the door behind her and asked quietly, "Do you think she will manage?"
Ophelia leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a cold smile. "She has no choice."
As Aetheria descended the marble steps of the manor, her veil trailing softly behind her, Yelena followed with careful reverence. The princess's voice was low, almost conspiratorial, as she whispered, "Let us head to the market." Yelena's eyes widened in alarm, her tone urgent yet respectful. "Your Grace, you cannot go to the market dressed like this. You will draw too much attention, especially as the princess."Aetheria smirked faintly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Silly. We cannot exactly go like this. I have an idea." With that, they summoned a carriage, its wheels rattling against the cobblestones as it carried them through the bustling streets. Their destination was a dressing house, a place where nobles and commoners alike purchased garments suited to their station.Inside, Aetheria ordered male attire—robes styled in the tradition of hanfu, though tailored for men. She selected a deep blue scholar's robe, its fabric plain yet dignified, tied at the waist with a simple sash. Yelena chose a brown robe, humbler in design, resembling the attire of attendants or traveling merchants.The transformation was not complete until their hair was altered. Aetheria's auburn locks were combed back tightly, twisted into a topknot, and secured with a straight jade hairpin, austere and masculine. Yelena's hair was bound into a smaller knot, fastened with a plain wooden pin, leaving no trace of feminine ornamentation. Together, they looked convincingly like young men—scholar and servant, master and attendant.When the garments were fitted and the disguises perfected, Aetheria paid the tailor with silver cash coins, known in ancient China as qian, round pieces with square holes at the center. The clinking of the coins against the merchant's palm sealed their transformation.Stepping back into the street, they were no longer princess and maiden, but two men wandering freely through the city. Lanterns glowed above the stalls, casting warm light upon vendors shouting their wares. The air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts, spiced meats, and herbal teas. Aetheria's blue robe gave her the air of a young scholar, while Yelena's brown attire marked her as a humble attendant. Together, they blended seamlessly into the crowd, their secret hidden beneath fabric, pins, and silence.For the first time, Aetheria tasted freedom—not as a princess bound by decree, but as a wanderer in disguise. The market stretched before her like a world of possibilities, each step carrying her further from the weight of the crown and closer to the life she longed to claim.
As the carriage rattled to a halt, Aetheria stepped down, her veil concealing her features, Yelena trailing faithfully behind. The princess's voice was low but firm. "Out here, we are men. Call me Young Master Lu, and you are my attendant, Mr. Si Mu. As simple as that." Yelena hesitated, her brows furrowing. "Young Master… where are we going?" Aetheria's lips curved into a mischievous smile. "To the brothel."
Yelena's eyes widened in shock. "Young Master, isn't that inappropriate?" Aetheria laughed softly, her tone edged with practicality. "We need to make money in case of anything. We cannot rely on palace funds entirely." Yelena's voice trembled. "Is it what I am thinking—that we are going to do?" Aetheria smirked. "Of course. What else is there to do in a brothel?" Yelena shook her head quickly. "I am not yet ready, Young Master." Aetheria's laughter rang out, light and teasing, as they continued walking.
The brothel loomed before them, humongous and resplendent, its lanterns glowing like jewels against the night. Inside, the air was thick with perfume and music. Women adorned in jewelry and Indian‑style dresses swayed gracefully, their movements hypnotic. One lady plucked the strings of a guzheng (Chinese harp), while others played the pipa (lute), the dizi (bamboo flute), and the erhu (two‑stringed fiddle). The melodies intertwined, filling the hall with a sensual harmony.
Around the central floor, tables were crowded with men feasting, their laughter mingling with the music. Courtesans danced between them, their silken sleeves trailing like waves. A grand staircase rose upward, lined with more women and patrons, the upper floors alive with revelry.
Aetheria and Yelena entered, their disguises intact—two young men amidst the throng. Yelena's gaze drifted, overwhelmed by the spectacle, while Aetheria's eyes gleamed with determination. "Let's go upstairs," she said calmly. Courtesans approached them with practiced smiles, guiding them to a table draped in silk. As they sat, the world of the brothel unfolded around them—an intoxicating blend of music, laughter, and hidden schemes.
As Aetheria and Yelena settled into their seats, courtesans swarmed around them, their silken sleeves brushing lightly against the disguised figures. One leaned close, her voice honeyed. "Shall we prepare a room for you, Young Masters?" Aetheria raised a hand, her tone firm yet playful. "Not yet. Lead us to the gambling section first."
Yelena sighed softly, her unease evident, but the courtesan only smiled and bowed. "Of course, Young Master. Follow me." She guided them through heavy curtains embroidered with dragons, into a chamber thick with smoke and tension. Here, men gambled not only their silver but their very lives. Some borrowed loans from ruthless lenders, their desperation etched into their faces, knowing most would eventually lose.
At the center of the hall stood tables where the game of Pai Gow was played. This ancient Chinese gambling game used 32 domino‑like tiles, each marked with dots. Players were dealt four tiles, which they had to arrange into two pairs—one "high hand" and one "low hand." The goal was to beat the dealer's hands in both pairs. It required two to eight players, but the dealer always held the advantage. Strategy, memory, and luck intertwined, making it a game of scholars and gamblers alike.
Aetheria and Yelena were guided to one such table. A large, chubby man with a hairy chest leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at Aetheria. He gave a mocking glance and sneered, "What is a scholar doing here? Shouldn't you stick to your books?" The men around him erupted in laughter, their voices echoing through the smoky chamber.
Aetheria straightened, her voice deepened into a manly timbre. "Well, can't a scholar have a little fun? What's the harm? Or are you afraid I might have studied the best ways to win at Pai Gow?" Her words cut through the laughter, leaving the men momentarily stunned. Some chuckled shyly, their bravado faltering.
The huge man smirked, his tone dripping with challenge. "Sure, why not? Give it a try." He gestured toward the dealer, who began shuffling the tiles with deliberate precision. The game was about to begin, and Aetheria's disguise as Young Master Lu would be tested not only by her wit but by her skill at the table.