The heavy curtains of Private Booth Eighteen were torn open violently.
Crown Prince Dai Yun stood at the railing, his expression dark and twisted. A palpable aura of Killing Intent rolled off him, suffocating the guests below.
"Who is sitting in Booth Twenty?" Dai Yun roared, his voice booming through the hall. "Get out here and face this Prince!"
"The Crown Prince?"
"It’s really him..."
Recognition rippled through the crowd. The previously rowdy guests instantly fell silent, trembling like cicadas in late autumn. No one dared to breathe too loud.
The curtains of Booth Twenty shook visibly before slowly parting. Inside, a young man with a face drained of all blood stumbled forward. He bowed deeply, his body quaking. "This... this commoner pays respects to Crown Prince Dai Yun."
A shadowy attendant leaned into Dai Yun’s ear and whispered something.
Dai Yun’s lips curled into a cold sneer. "So, you are Minister Wang’s second son. I will remember you."
The young man’s knees buckled. He slammed his forehead against the floorboards, again and again.
"This commoner knows his mistake! I didn't know Your Highness was present! My offense deserves ten thousand deaths!"
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Blood began to smear on the floor as he kowtowed with frantic desperation.
Dai Yun snorted, unimpressed. He flicked a finger at his guards. "Bring him here."
Two burly attendants leaped across the gap, seized the young noble, and dragged him over the railing like a dead dog. They threw him at Dai Yun’s feet.
Without a word, the Crown Prince unleashed a vicious kick to the man's ribs.
Crack!
"Mercy—"
Thud!
Dai Yun stomped on him again and again. The young noble curled into a ball, vomiting mouthfuls of blood, convulsing in agony.
Dai Yun spat on the twitching body and glared down at the silent hall.
"Who else?" he challenged, his eyes manic. "Does anyone else have an objection? Step out!"
Silence reigned. The entire Qingyuan brothel was frozen in fear.
Dai Yun pointed a shaking finger at a guest who had been shouting loudly during the bidding war.
"You. Throw him out. Break his legs."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
The guards descended like wolves. The targeted man’s legs gave out instantly, and he collapsed into a puddle of his own terror before he was hauled away.
"Your Highness, please quell your anger."
Yurou stepped forward on the stage, bowing gracefully. Her voice was trembling slightly, but she held her ground. "They acted in ignorance. Those who do not know are not to blame. I beg the Crown Prince to show mercy."
Dai Yun’s gaze shifted to Yurou, his eyes raking over her figure.
"Since a beauty pleads for them, this Prince will give you face." He waved his hand, signaling his guards to stand down.
Then, a grotesque, meaningful smile stretched across his face.
"I am giving you face now, Yurou. I expect you to serve me well later to repay it. I missed out on one beauty today..." He leared, his voice dripping with suggestion. "And I have a belly full of fire that needs venting."
His handsome features were contorted by such lust and violence that he looked like a demon.
Yurou’s smile froze. She stood rigid on the stage, her face pale, unsure how to respond to such a crude public threat.
"After all that posturing," a lazy, teasing voice suddenly cut through the heavy silence. "Crown Prince Dai Yun, are you going to play the zither or not?"
The hall gasped.
Heads snapped up. Eyes widened in disbelief.
Someone dared? After witnessing the blood on the floor, someone dared to provoke the sadistic Crown Prince?
All eyes turned to Private Booth Twenty-Five. The curtains were still drawn.
"Who is it?" Dai Yun roared, his face flushing purple with renewed rage. "Get the hell out here!"
He couldn't believe it. He had just established his dominance, and some insect dared to challenge him? He silently resolved to execute whoever walked out from behind that curtain.
Inside the booth, Xiaoqing grabbed Xiao Yifeng’s sleeve, her face ashen. "Young Master! That is the Crown Prince of the dynasty! What are we going to do?"
Xiao Yifeng ignored her panic. He casually waved his hand.
An invisible wave of Qi surged forward and parted the curtains of Booth Twenty-Five.
Xiao Yifeng sat there, calm and composed, swirling a cup of wine in his hand. He looked up, meeting Dai Yun’s murderous gaze with a faint smile.
"What's the matter? Does the Crown Prince want to beat me up too? Such an imposing authority you have."
Dai Yun froze.
The rage on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a look of sheer horror. He stared at the young man lounging in the booth—Xiao Yifeng. The baleful star. The nightmare who had humiliated him before.
Dai Yun’s throat went dry. He swallowed hard, forcing a stiff, dry laugh.
"I... I didn't expect to see Young Master Xiao here. What... what a coincidence."
The sudden shift from tyrant to coward left the audience reeling.
"So," Xiao Yifeng swirled his wine again, "is Your Highness going to play, or not?"
"Play. Yes. Naturally, I will play. How could I not?" Dai Yun stammered, awkwardly retreating to his seat.
"Good. I’ll be watching with great interest. Isn't that right, Brother Zhang?" Xiao Yifeng raised his cup toward Booth Sixteen.
Zhang Tianzhi, who had been watching in stunned silence, hurriedly raised his own cup. "Truly, life is full of unexpected encounters. I didn't expect to meet Young Master Xiao again so soon."
He downed his wine in one gulp to hide his confusion.
Why is he here? Zhang Tianzhi thought, glancing between Xiao Yifeng and the terrified Crown Prince. He has a celestial maiden like Su Miaoqing at home, yet he visits a brothel?
He felt a pang of indignation on Su Miaoqing’s behalf, wondering if he had misjudged Xiao Yifeng’s character. Ironically, he forgot that he, too, was currently sitting in a brothel.
Meanwhile, the crowd was buzzing with silent questions. Who was this young man? One sentence from him had turned the rabid Crown Prince into a meek puppy.
On the balcony, Dai Yun sat before his zither. His hands were shaking.
He plucked a few strings.
Twang. Plonk.
It was dry, disjointed noise. There was no melody, no rhythm. His face burned red, a mix of humiliation and suppressed rage. It was obvious to everyone now that his previous "submission" had been ghostwritten by someone else.
He fumbled through a few more notes before stopping completely. He looked at Xiao Yifeng, trapped in unbearable awkwardness.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Xiao Yifeng began to applaud slowly.
"Marvelous," Xiao Yifeng laughed. "The Crown Prince's music is truly 'only heard in the heavens.' It is rarely encountered in the mortal world for good reason. Wouldn't everyone agree?"
The sarcasm was biting, but the crowd was too terrified to laugh. They looked at each other, helpless.
"Bring me a zither," Xiao Yifeng commanded softly.
An attendant hurriedly placed a refined instrument before him.
Xiao Yifeng tested a string, the clear note ringing through the hall. Then, with the grace of a master, he began to play the score he had submitted earlier.
It was the same melody Yurou had started, but transformed.
Under his fingers, the tune shed its bone-deep sorrow. It became vibrant, surging with passion and vigor. It was a melody of resilience—of finding light in the deepest darkness, of generating strength amidst despair.
The audience was spellbound.
Yurou stood on the stage, staring up at Xiao Yifeng. Her eyes grew hazy, and she slowly closed them, letting the music wash over her soul.
When the final note faded, silence lingered for a long time.
Yurou opened her eyes. Two clear lines of tears traced down her cheeks.
"Young Master Xiao's skill... is truly extraordinary," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Your music is filled with hope. If my status were not so lowly, I would beg to call you a kindred spirit. I have truly embarrassed myself before a master."
Xiao Yifeng felt a rare blush of shame. This is your song, he thought. I just copied what you will write in the future.
"Miss Yurou flatters me," he said aloud, smiling. "I am merely slightly knowledgeable in rhythm. I am showing off my meager skills before a true expert."
"If your skill is 'meager'," Yurou replied with a watery smile, "then Yurou has no place left to hide her face."
Watching them banter and smile at each other, Dai Yun gripped the railing until the wood groaned. His knuckles turned white. His face was a mask of dark, dripping hatred.
"Moving on," Liao Hong, the sharp-eyed procuress, quickly stepped onto the stage to break the tension. "Miss Yurou will now rank the finalists. First place receives four points, second gets three, and so on."
Dai Yun snapped his head toward Yurou. He didn't speak, but his eyes were screaming: Dare to rank me low, and I will slaughter everyone here.
Yurou hesitated, sensing the murderous pressure.
"Crown Prince Dai Yun," Xiao Yifeng’s voice cut in, cold and sharp. "Do you have an eye disease? I happen to have a specialty in curing wandering eyes."
He flexed his right palm ostentatiously.
Dai Yun flinched physically, remembering the slap he had taken in the past. He immediately averted his gaze, refusing to look at Xiao Yifeng.
Yurou took a deep breath. She glanced apologetically at the other contestants.
"In Yurou’s heart... the first place goes to Crown Prince Dai Yun."
A ripple of disappointment went through the crowd, but no one was surprised.
"Second place is Young Master Xiao of Booth Twenty-Five. Third is Young Master Zhang of Booth Sixteen. And fourth is the gentleman in Booth Eight."
The other finalists nodded understandingly. They knew Yurou had no choice. If she placed the Crown Prince last, the Qingyuan brothel wouldn't survive the night.
Dai Yun’s mouth curved into a smug, victorious sneer.
See? his expression said. No matter how talented or strong you are, in this world, you still have to bow beneath me.