The streets of the capital were bright that night.
Lanterns floated like drifting stars, painting the wet stones in shades of vermilion and gold.Vendors called from corners — wine sellers shouting prices, noodle stalls steaming under moonlight, gamblers laughing beneath banners.Music and laughter spilled from open courtyards, yet somewhere beneath it all, the wind carried the smell of incense and perfume.
Li Qiong walked alone through the crowd.
He wore no crest, no mark of nobility — just a plain black robe, his sleeves faintly dusted with travel. Yet the way people parted before him was instinctive, as if the night itself bent to make way. His gaze was calm, deep as an untouched well.
He turned at the corner where the red lanterns burned brightest like stars made into candles.The brothel there was famed across the city — the House of Blossoms. It was said one could buy anything there: beauty, secrets, or warmth.
Inside, the air sprinkled with perfume and music. Courtesans laughed, their laughter soft as bells; painted masks hid weary eyes.At the far table, a merchant boasted of his silk routes. Beside him, a drunken general boasting names of his concubines.And somewhere, behind beaded curtains, killers traded information for coin.
Li Qiong's steps were unhurried as he entered.
The owner, a rotund man with a fox's grin, hurried forward. "Ah, honored guest! First visit, perhaps? What brings you to our humble place of joy?"
Li Qiong's eyes slid toward the stage — not at the dancers, but at a single painting hung behind them.It was an indecent image by mortal measure, yet the strokes were divine — it captured not flesh, but sorrow; not desire, but the quiet despair of being seen and never known.
"I heard," Li Qiong said, voice faint, "you have something that does not belong to you."
The owner blinked, uncertain. "And what might that be, my lord?"
Li Qiong lifted a sealed scroll from his sleeve. "Information. Of a secret realm that will open in ten days, your going to buy."
The room fell quiet. Even the pipa music seemed to hush.
"A secret realm?" one of the masked patrons murmured. "Those appear once in a hundred years…"The owner's eyes gleamed. Greed and disbelief wrestled across his face. "And what do you want in exchange, honored sir?"
Li Qiong raised his hand — pointing toward the painting.
Laughter broke out.
"A painting? That?" The owner chuckled. "You jest! Men have offered fortunes for it. Even nobles of the Inner Court—"
"Then add my name to that list," Li Qiong interrupted. His tone was calm, yet absolute. "The place, the date, and the coordinates will be yours. In return, I take that painting. That is my price."
The deal was sealed with trembling fingers. Greed always silenced doubt.
When Li Qiong turned to leave, his steps paused.
Something brushed against his senses — faint as the sound of falling dust. A presence. He turned his head slightly.At the corner of the room, half-hidden behind gauze curtains, stood a new girl — barely twelve, eyes downcast, wrapped in pale silk that did not fit.
Her presence was like a quiet question that no one wanted to answer.
Li Qiong looked at her once, and the room seemed to still. "How much," he asked softly, "for the girl?"
The laughter returned, hesitant this time."Thirty gold," the owner said, smirking. "For her innocence."
"I don't want her innocence." Li Qiong's eyes darkened. "How much for her freedom?"
The owner blinked. Around them, whispers stirred like wind.
"Three… three thousand gold," the owner stammered, thinking it would drive him away.
Li Qiong laid a pouch upon the table — two thousand gold, ten thousand silver. "Deal."
The seal of servitude was pressed into his palm. The girl, wide-eyed, followed silently as he left.
The night outside was cool and vast. Lanterns swayed in the wind.
At the inn, Li Qiong sat on the edge of the bed, the painting beside him. The girl stood at the doorway, her shadow trembling under the candle's light.
She looked small — like something fragile break upon touch.
"What service do you require, my lord?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
Li Qiong glanced up. His gaze softened — not with pity, but with something. "None."
He leaned back, voice quiet. "Tell me, little one… do you want freedom?"
She hesitated. "Yes."
"What will you do when you achieve it?"
Her eyes, dull and old beyond her years, lifted to his. "I will kill my parents."
Li Qiong smiled faintly, the curve of his lips like a blade drawn under moonlight.
"And what if you are too weak?"
"If I must," she whispered, "I'll sell my soul to a demon."
Li Qiong chuckled. "You don't need to sell your soul."
He rose, walking to the window where the candlelight met the night. "Just follow my three demands," he said softly, his voice fading into the wind, "and you will be strong enough to have revenge on your own."
The candle flickered.Outside, the lanterns swayed — red stars trembling in the breath of the capital.And somewhere in that vast city, the heavens seemed to watch in silence.