The Price of Service

With three slender, pale fingers, she delicately pinched the small wine cup, bringing it to her lips for a sip.

Jiang Buwei’s movements were as graceful and elegant as a soaring crane. Her emerald-green eyes, though seemingly nonchalant, held a glint sharper than any hawk’s.

Xia Qian inexplicably felt like an item displayed on a counter, patiently awaiting the meticulous scrutiny of a discerning, particular customer under the harsh glare of the lights.

“Speaking of which, I haven’t yet heard Daddy Liu mention—”

Jiang Buwei set down the small, ivory-white porcelain wine cup. Its delicate base tapped against the sandalwood table, like a white chess piece falling onto a board.

“What is your name?”

“Xia… Xia Qian.”

“A rather unadorned floral name.”

“Eh?”

Xia Qian mumbled, a blush creeping onto her face.

“My given name doesn’t sound like a title or appellation either, does it?”

“Your surname is Xia, and your given name is Qian… Is that it? I see. Indeed, a fresh branch yet to bear even a floral designation.”

Jiang Buwei nodded, letting out a soft chuckle. Her casual smile was like the chill wind from beyond the Great Wall, piercing to the bone.

“Since it’s a fresh brew, we must test its mettle. Come here, take off your boots.”

She gently lifted her foot, tapping her toe on the ground. Her calm tone held an undeniable command.

“Huh? Me?”

Xia Qian’s eyes widened in surprise.

She had rarely even helped her own mother wash her feet, let alone serve someone else.

However, this boss had previously helped her out of a tight spot with that “Tank” Steward Li. In a way, she was her benefactor.

Perhaps she could consider this an act of gratitude and respect. Xia Qian decided there was no need to fuss over it.

She would just treat it as part of the service industry, a university student getting an early taste of working life—even if the workplace was a brothel.

Xia Qian knelt down, but as she reached out, she realized the young lady’s boots were not as simple as traditional high-heeled boots.

They were exquisite black official boots, embroidered with intricate phoenix patterns on the vamp, and the shafts reached up to her calves, clearly custom-made.

Although she had seen boots like these in period dramas, this was her first time handling them firsthand.

Staring at the complex coiled dragon clasps on the black official boots, she suddenly longed for the Velcro of the twenty-first century. This was far more difficult than bandaging an injured junior from the school football team.

Jiang Buwei lowered her gaze, watching the youth clumsily fumble with the clasps. Her knuckles occasionally brushed against her ankle.

An ordinary male courtesan would have seized this opportunity for an intimate gesture, yet this person was as awkward as if he were dismantling a broken basket.

An impatient glint flashed in her eyes, and she inwardly shook her head.

He truly is an untutored newcomer…

Just as Xia Qian finally managed to pull her heel free from the boot, and she was about to sneer, she suddenly felt her sole cradled by a warm palm.

Her thumb precisely pressed against the Taichong acupoint, while her other four fingers gently yet firmly massaged along her arch, like a stream flowing over pebbles as spring snow first melted.

But he does… conceal his skill somewhat…

With a single grasp, she could locate crucial joints. Her technique was practiced, even more adept than the palace’s imperial masseurs. Even old injuries from years of traveling were kneaded into a tingling warmth.

Jiang Buwei’s ankles were already slender. When Xia Qian massaged them, a tingling sensation shot from her sole straight to her head.

The perfect pressure made her toes involuntarily curl slightly, like a cat’s paw melting in the sun.

Her emerald eyes narrowed, and a soft hum almost escaped her throat.

Working at the narrow opening of the boot, Xia Qian tried to remove the already unlaced boot from the traveling young lady’s foot.

She was utterly oblivious to the dangerous switch she was flipping, immersed only in the muscle memory of volunteering for the football team. In her mind, the school doctor’s muscle relaxation massage chants were playing on a loop.

Perhaps because she had been subjected to the old man’s nagging and brainwashing so often back then, she had a tendency to assimilate.

As her hands moved naturally, almost without her own awareness, Xia Qian began to chatter like an old Chinese medicine doctor:

“Tsk, your Achilles tendon is a bit tight. You probably do a lot of riding in this era, huh? Well, remember to adjust your stirrup length when riding, so you don’t accidentally twist it…”

No response came. The air fell into an eerie silence.

Xia Qian belatedly looked up, only to catch Jiang Buwei covering her flushed ear tips with her sleeve.

This grand merchant, who had seen countless facets of the world, had nearly lost her composure under the hands of a mere courtesan. In that instant, the young lady, who had been so at ease moments before, was like a puppy whose tail had been stepped on.

Her body had to admit it felt wonderfully comfortable under his ministrations, yet her heart was filled with an indescribable sense of frustration.

Jiang Buwei quickly composed herself, covering her agitation with a light cough:

“Heh, I didn’t realize you possessed some redeeming qualities.”

Xia Qian didn’t discern the young lady’s expression, only assuming the blush on her face was from a suppressed sneeze due to an itchy nose.

“Then, thank you for the compliment?”

With the left boot removed, and having gained some experience, the right one came off much faster.

With the boots shed, her graceful legs were revealed without reservation.

Her feet were long and slender, her insteps as pale as jade, encased in silk stockings as thin as cicada wings, making them exceptionally alluring.

Even the most upright gentleman couldn’t help but take a second look at the sight before him; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they were as tempting as gourmet food.

Xia Qian somewhat understood why some people might fantasize about feet wrapped in white silk, like ice cream.

Jiang Buwei noticed her gaze, and a faint smile played on her lips, a hint of playfulness flashing in her eyes.

She leaned against the armrest of her seat, resting the back of her hand against her chin.

She subtly lifted her foot, wiggling her toes before Xia Qian, her tone laced with amusement:

“What, do you like them?”

Xia Qian’s mouth twitched twice in sudden embarrassment.

If it were my two-dimensional waifu’s feet, that would be one thing. But a real-life pair? I politely decline, thank you very much…

Seeing his reaction, Jiang Buwei seemed to find some balance in her competitive spirit, and her interest grew.

She leaned back languidly in her chair, her voice soft: “Since you’re so good at serving people, then take off the stockings as well.”

Xia Qian thought she was joking. She looked up to confirm:

“Take off… the stockings?”

“What? Though you’re a newcomer to the pleasure quarter, do you need to be taught even this most basic task?”

“No, no, no, if you want them off, of course you can,” Xia Qian said, her brow furrowed in a troubled expression, much like when she was agonizing over how to start a thesis.

“It’s just that…”

“And—”

Seeing her hesitate and not knowing where to begin, without even giving her a chance to explain, Jiang Buwei suddenly raised the stakes.

“You dirtied your hands taking off my boots, so now, I want you to use your mouth.”

“Huh?!”

“Like a clingy puppy, use your mouth to hold them.”

The demand was clear.

Xia Qian’s already half-forced smile completely froze on her face.

Jiang Buwei secretly gloated. It was less about teasing him for fun and more about savoring the triumphant joy of winning a game of chess.

Alright, what will you do next? Will you be angry and embarrassed? Or will you try to sweet-talk your way out? Or will you actually obediently use your mouth like a good little doggy…

The thought of what was about to happen made her almost let out another soft hum from deep within.

However, when Xia Qian spoke again, her tone was utterly serious:

“How to take them off is secondary, but these are long stockings…”

She glanced at Jiang Buwei’s skirt hem.

Beneath the pure white silk robe, the outline of her slender legs was faintly visible, from which the pure white silk extended.

The stockings were all one piece, the legendary pantyhose.

Simply put, to remove pantyhose entirely, one would have to…

Xia Qian’s fingers lightly pinched one end of the stocking.

The silk felt smooth and delicate, full of elasticity, like soft malt candy—stretching long as if about to break, yet remaining connected and unbroken.

The cicada-wing-thin silk stockings, already stretched from her toes, were now so transparent that her pale instep and delicate toes were clearly visible.

“So, Young Lady…”

Xia Qian raised an eyebrow, questioning,

“Are you sure you want them off?”