Compared to the famous Three-Scent Pavilion branches in the great capitals of the great states, the little house in Maple City was barely worth mentioning. But no one who had ever seen Miao Qing would say so.
Fang Zesheng was one of the Fang clan's current masters — Fang Lin's father, Fang Heng's uncle. A man who had traveled the world and opened the trade road to the State of Yun on his own. Able, famous, and all but guaranteed to be the next clan head. Even he pined after Miao Qing without shame. Every time he came home from a trading run, the first thing he did was come to the Three-Scent Pavilion to amuse himself.
Such stories were endless. Fang Zesheng was not the first great man to kneel at Miao Qing's hem, and he would not be the last.
Zhao Yan, that old flower-chaser, was also among the crowd. Ever since he heard Miao Qing's fame, he threw gold around like water and practically moved into the Three-Scent Pavilion, vowing not to stop until he won her.
"That won't happen," Zhao Yan said calmly. "No woman who refuses to see me has been born yet."
In his heart he added: Jiang An'an didn't count. She was still a little kid.
Miao Qing inclined her head, as if in agreement. "True. Master Zhao is a rare beauty himself, and even more generous. Skilled, well-bred, with a bright future, a clever heart, and honey on his lips. What woman could resist you?"
"But—" She said *but*, and a thread of sadness crept into her brow, the kind that made a man desperate to smooth it away. "But you don't like me enough..."
As if his affection, not quite sincere enough, was her sorrow.
"Heh heh heh..."
A greasy, abrupt laugh broke the mood.
It was Huang Azhan, awake at last but still half drunk. He propped his chin on his hand and stared at Miao Qing with a silly grin. "Heh heh heh..."
Everyone knew exactly what he was thinking.
Jiang Chen covered his face. He recognized Miao Qing as the woman in red he had run into before, but in this place he had no say in anything.
Du Hu reached out to drag Huang Azhan out and kill him, to stop them both from losing face together. He was weighing whether it was worth carrying a murder charge before he even joined the army.
"What do you mean, not enough?" Only Zhao Yan kept his composure, a true veteran of the flower fields, as if he had never met Huang Azhan in his life. "I have never chased a woman this long. Since I met Miao Qing, I've spent more time in the Three-Scent Pavilion than in the Academy. My affection is overflowing — it's about to drown this whole room."
He rose from his seat and glided toward Miao Qing.
"Here." He pressed a hand to his heart.
Even the madam, who had weathered countless storms in her long career, felt her heart flutter at the sight of such a handsome man in such a pose.
But Miao Qing stopped him with a single sentence—
"You don't really like me. You're just bored."
The charming smile slid off Zhao Yan's face. He stopped walking.
"Well, then I don't like you anymore," he said. "I hate women who are too clever."
Jiang Chen had always known that Zhao Yan was afraid of trouble and cared about nothing. Nothing seemed to matter to him; drifting along was his life's motto. He burned money like straw and wasted his days the way he wasted his talent. But that was his own business, and no one had the right to judge him for it.
So Jiang Chen could understand the careless like and dislike in Zhao Yan's mouth.
Then again — talking about like and dislike in a pleasure house was a joke in itself.
"Come on, let's go home. I still have to cook dinner for An'an." Jiang Chen rose.
"Third brother." Zhao Yan looked at him earnestly. "Can we pack some dishes to take home? Don't cook."
Across the room, Du Hu nodded gravely, his face still pale with memory. "An'an is just a child."
"..." Jiang Chen's face darkened. "Are we going or not?"
"Going, going."
Du Hu hoisted Huang Azhan onto his shoulder, ignoring his struggling and giggling, and the whole crowd scattered out the door.
Miao Qing watched them leave with a smile, saying nothing.
But her fingers twisted once, and unseen by anyone, a small white pellet prepared long ago slipped onto Jiang Chen's back.
And sank into him.
* * *
Du Hu carried his dead-drunk friend off. Zhao Yan went home to rest. Jiang Chen walked alone to the Academy dormitory to pick up An'an.
When he found her, Jiang An'an was clearly out of sorts, her little mouth puffed into a sulk over some private grievance.
"What's wrong, my little An'an?" Jiang Chen asked, all smiles.
"Nothing." Jiang An'an pouted.
"Good." Jiang Chen beckoned. "Let's go home."
"..." Jiang An'an was stunned. Was he really not going to ask a few more questions, show a little more concern?
Ling Chuan made no move to stop them either. He only waved. "Goodbye, An'an."
Jiang Chen understood. His eldest brother had long wanted to cultivate, held back only by the duty of watching over An'an. His talent was not the best, but his diligence was second to none.
"Goodbye, Ling Chuan-gege." Jiang An'an was unhappy, but her manners held.
"Oh, right." Jiang Chen spoke as if it had just occurred to him. "We all transferred our Merit to you. Should be close to a Meridian-Opening Pill by now. Work hard, go redeem it soon."
Ling Chuan was silent for a moment. "It should go to Zhao Yan first. He's the youngest, and the most talented. He shouldn't be wasted."
"He has no interest." Jiang Chen explained it all at once. "And Hu-ge is going to the Nine River Black Armor — he'll take the old soldier's path of forcing his meridian open with vital blood."
Ling Chuan did not argue further. He simply said, "Good."
He knew Zhao Yan's lack of interest was genuine, and Du Hu's decision was beyond recall. What he could do was not waste these points, not waste this brotherhood.
"Home!" Jiang Chen swung An'an up onto his right shoulder and walked off with steady strides.
Jiang An'an cheered up at once. "Giddyup!" she cried, kicking her little legs.
All the way out of the Academy she spoke for Jiang Chen, in high spirits. Every time someone greeted him with a "Senior Jiang," she answered crisply: "Hello to you too."
Jiang Chen let her be and only nodded.
"Is Ling Chuan-gege very boring?" Jiang Chen asked idly on the way home.
"He was waiting at the gate before school even let out. People have things to do after class, but he wouldn't let me go, just followed me around." Jiang An'an bit her finger as she spoke.
Ling Chuan was steady and dependable; trusting him with An'an was the safest choice. Sticking to her like glue was simply standard practice.
"What could you possibly have to do?" Jiang Chen said, pulling her finger out of her mouth. "Stop biting your nails."
"Ha!" An'an was so angry she nearly jumped off his shoulder. She thought better of it — they still had a ways to go. "I'm very busy. I can't be bothered with you."
Jiang Chen did not mind. He chattered on: "Ling Chuan-gege is a good man. Be polite to him."
"No making faces at him."
"Stop biting your nails."
Their voices faded into the distance.
—"I KNOOOW!"