Mira looked under the bridge. Still no shadow. Not unusual—but she checked again. She had been standing there for a while.
She glanced up. The sun shone boldly despite the forecast. On her mobile phone, a radio voice spoke mid-sentence.
"There is no cyclone. That's just fake news. Always check your sources, and do not make a voting poll to remove the government campaigns of politicians because of the feud years ago about the hierarchy set by the Velmari Dominion. It is time to forget and move on, " the reporter said.
Mira scoffed and pocketed the mobile phone. "Mortals and their flair for drama."
She continued walking. The city spread out before her—a story she'd read too many times. The breeze brushed her cheeks. Familiar, but never dull.
Bright eyes. Sharp wind.
People passed, their thoughts whispering in her head. She laughed. "Big city, same charm. Let's get to work."
She passed some signs:
"Wisteria Big House"
"Peony Effertile's Library"
"Pavilion of Golden Desires"
She raised a brow. "They're still naming places like this?"
A hanging sign swung above her. The letters glowed under a lantern. The entrance was draped in red cloth.
Behind the frosted glass, shapes flickered—legs, feathers, earrings, laughter.
She tilted her head. "Pavilion of Golden Desires. Someone had fun naming that."
Naming standards, she thought, had only gotten worse. Like mortals hired drunk poets for branding.
She sighed. "Is this a place that changes fate—or laughs at it?"
Hands on her hips, she stared at the doorway.
Above, the clouds turned red. The windows caught the light and glowed.
"It's sunset," she said, biting her thumb. "Time to stir things up."
She stepped inside.
***
Is he even real? Those... those are beautiful! she scanned at the man's lips—heart in shape— a peach in resemblance.
Down to her starry eyes followed a trail of cyan flame, illuminating his skin.
He's from... She snapped. Her heart was enraptured at the sight of him that she couldn't finish the words on the tip of her tongue—it was a kickback to her stomach—fluttering butterflies in her stomach, to be exact.
The man's figure was enclosed in her eyes, like an enchanted artifact in a museum.
She may or may not approach him as he was in the middle of the crowd, however...
"May I know your name, miss?"
Another did.
"What?"
To her. Eyes shut down, as she took her drink, smoke seethed from her nostrils of extreme annoyance.
Draping in cold flames around his lower arms, he looked at her eyes and put her fingers down her drink because she was about to hit him with it—luck splintered through the heat, breaking it off—the drink's icy smoke became thicker.
She moved further away from him.
He moved closer.
Eyebrows raised.
"What do you want?"
"Where are your manners, miss? I just want to know your name. And besides, it's a customary etiquette of male performers to ask the guests. I saw you looking at that guy intently, " he went even closer to her seat—
She clacked her tongue.
"—You got a good eye. He's one of the few. "
"Or else? I wouldn't gaze at him if I weren't."
"Interested? I can help. "
"Oh?" She watched him walk towards the love house host, talked to her; his attention in between her and Mira—blasted her guts to the core... embarrassed. She felt embarrassed with him directly pinpointing her as a new guest.
Her ears, heart, eyes—were controlled from the distracting activities all around her.
These mortals... it's not surprising anymore. They're even more unrestrained than the demons!
He led his hands towards a door.
No doubt, she followed.
The corridor stretched ahead, its red curtains swaying gently. Shadows formed behind them—shapes of furniture, maybe figures. Everything blurred as it was half-remembered.
She wasn't sure what time it was. The curtains glowed a deep crimson now, and the silhouettes darkened.
Maybe it was six. Or later. Either way, it felt right.
She frowned entirely, unsure if she was annoyed at herself—or at how easily she'd been pulled in.
The last time she entered this place, she'd barely made it three steps before turning back. Just an hour ago, she'd been outside, scratching her head.
Now here she was, chasing a rumor.
A man.
One she'd never met, but had heard enough about to make him feel half-familiar. A name spoken behind fans. A face painted in words, in old conversations and vague warnings.
And then earlier—his figure in passing. A glimpse. Nothing confirmed. Just enough to wake her curiosity from its long sleep.
Was it him?
Would this door hold that answer?
She paused. Straightened her back.
You've made it this far, she thought. Might as well knock.
A voice interrupted.
"This way, please—your chamber awaits."
She looked at the man. Then past him.
In the lobby behind, a portrait hung on the wall. It stopped her breath.
There he was.
The same face from the whispers. The one she'd seen earlier. Painted in modern, framed in gold—was he a famous figure?
She stared. "Is that—?"
He only gestured politely toward the chamber door.
She didn't finish her question.
The door creaked open.
***
"Quite the tough one you are, " a voice swifted through the air.
She blew the candles for more light, hoping she could see who it was.
A table was lit up on the floor. Two seats, two cups, one jar of wine—a good time for the guest and the performer.
Next to her sat a pipa. With the accompaniment of wine and beauty, the music would be heavenly, making a memorable night out of the harmony of pleasure.
Speaking of pleasure, she stopped looking around. There was one piece of information she caught with her eye.
The voice laughed. "You're distracted!"
Frowned. "Yet you dare hide yourself?" her voice echoed. The stillness of the wine in the cup—perturbed—her figure, was swallowed by the red brocades around the bed.
A soft mattress shifted beneath her. Breathing in, she looked at the distance of the candlelights and the table. It was quite further away from her than before. Did I shift from the floor to the bed?
The voice laughed again. This time, a white mist seethed through the bell decorations around the canopy. It curled like tendrils of smoke, wrapping itself around the faintest whisper of wind. There was something ancient, something dangerous in it.
"Quit beating around the bush. Speak, what's your intention?"
He leaned back in the plush chair, his eyes catching the flicker of candlelight. Shadows seemed to draw closer to him, like he was part of the darkness itself.
"You're quite a blunt guy."
A slow smile tugged at his lips. His fingers flicked through the air, and the black silk vest tightened slightly over his chest. The red satin sash swayed behind him, trailing like a ribbon in the wind. His black silk trousers clung to his legs, catching the light with every deliberate step.
With another flick of his fingers, a jar appeared, floating in front of him. The lid lifted. As he poured the tea, his green eyes locked with hers.
A brief flutter of his lashes, then his gaze sharpened—intense, predatory, like a hawk locking onto its prey.
"You're right. However, I'm not here to waste my time."
The words lingered. She watched the warm candlelights bathe on his skin. The red silk vest sculpted his chest, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw.
Tantalizing green eyes, desirable allure. No doubt he's a top-notch male courtesan! Living for decades, she found a gem. A kind deeply buried under the earth. This male courtesan was top-notch in performing for a reason, she knew. His beauty—striking, like a protagonist in a television drama she'd watched.
Throughout decades, time has accompanied her in the four realms. It was this time a beauty made her feel something. Something that she didn't know. As a former deity, she would be seen as unfazed in the eyes of mortals—heavenly principles in heart, earthly desires restrained—yet this was a momentarily captivating surrender.
She took a breath. I've been dealing with different kinds of beings for decades. Truly each of them are admirable in their kind of way. But it's vain for me. I'm determined enough not to be swayed from his charm. He's what I'm looking for, restraining any strings attached, for my plan to work, I have to stay firm.
***
"What made you think I'll agree with you?" It has been a while since they talked in the chamber, and his eyes were eagerly focused on her since then. Mira made a move—she wanted him to be her spiritual partner. Naturally, she took efforts to come over to the brothel to talk it over.
"I don't want to go back to the heavenly realm after all I've endured. As a former deity, my powers were stripped out from me. I came down and lived in this realm for decades trying to fulfill my quest. "
"Why would you choose me?"
"I know who you are. "
"You know me. Why do you think I'll help you with your goal?"
"You and I are just the same. "
"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "Counting from that to the bottom of everything, you chose me because you thought we're alike. Go on, continue. "
Three hundred years ago, Mira was once the Guardian of the Mortal-Demon Boundary. Her glory amassed reverends, making her a significant figure in Chinese Mythology. All kinds of beings worshipped her, but not for long— demons usurped the mortal realm, causing illnesses, drought, war, and starvation for years.
Stripped out from her powers and banished in the mortal realm as punishment, she was hanging on the tip of the needle of the gods.
Her lifespan lasted for decades—her heart, devastated. In all her years with the tribulation that ___ her to her downfall, she only vowed one thing: To unveil the truth.
"The truth must be unveiled. Wait for me. I'll give you what you wanted, " she said while the Deity of the Tribulation Portal changed her face before she came down to the lower realm.
Her powers were stripped, banished, and she may have had a face not of her own skin... but that didn't stop her from her goal. To find a spiritual partner was part of her plan.
Returning back to her present, Mira believed the man in front of her was the one she could propose to.
He stood up. "Your goal is a heavy task. You may had chosen me for my identity, but still, you can't guarantee I would thrive with you. "
"I knew a person like you wouldn't take empty negotiations, so I came prepared.
Between Mira Lin and Rong Jieyan
This agreement, entered into this day, binds Mira Lin and Rong Jieyan to a sacred and irrevocable vow. The sole purpose of this pact is that Mira Lin shall take Rong Jieyan as her one and only spiritual partner. In like manner, Julen Rong must swear to take only Mira Lin as his spiritual companion, pledging to honor and cherish her above all others. Both parties are obliged to hold one another's emotions and well-being in the highest regard, never to cause harm nor neglect the bond they share. Should either betray this trust by breaking their vow, they shall suffer a swift and certain death by poison, a penalty that spares neither time nor mercy. Let it be known that this pact is made in full awareness of its consequence, and is solemnly witnessed on this day.
Julen imagined what his life would be like at her disposal. A scripted course of action due to mutual agreement—the idea made him ick—but to her, it seemed fair and reasonable.
More thoughts ran over his mind. What if he actually failed to comply with her conditions?
This is bothering! he cursed, although sitting like a good puppy on his seat.
"What are you dilly-dallying for?" her question—quick—startled his state of calamity within his own troubled mind.
Body freezing, sweat slithered on his forehead, and eyebrows heavy— his expression was oblivious to her eyes yet she remained patient for this creature to come back to his senses because he may have lost it or had trouble making quick decisions.
This guy can't be dispatched on the frontline of war, he's quite slow!
Truly, a quick mind remained admirable.
One.
Two.
Three.
It took him a few minutes before opening his orb for speaking, shutting his openly obvious nervous system that showed on his sweaty forehead, as if he was constipated all day long because a girl showed up and thought to differ from his charm, making him a scapegoat of his own undoing—his weakness revealed unheedlessly—slow at making decisions during trivial times—a weakness not fitting for a man.
Not for him, he thought.
I'm losing my cool, shit! he cried internally, while simultaneously signing the contract.