An Unexpected Proposition

“So, you came looking for me yesterday?”

A sudden chill snaked down Xia Qian’s back, a bead of cold sweat trickling from her nape.

Even though Jiang Buwei smiled, she always felt that the more inscrutable a woman was, the colder her smile, and the less likely it heralded anything good.

“Well… I appreciate your concern, Boss Jiang. But as you can see, in my current state, even if I wanted to attend to a patron, it would be quite difficult.”

“Don’t worry, my visit isn’t for that. It’s merely to discuss something.”

Jiang Buwei smiled, her eyes briefly sweeping over the others. Xia Qian immediately understood her unspoken meaning.

“Ah, in that case, Seven Hues, please excuse us for a moment.”

The maiden blinked, then timidly glanced up at the merchant mistress beside her. She quickly bowed her head in assent, then retreated out the door.

After the blue-clad attendant guarding the door closed it, Jiang Buwei spoke slowly a moment later.

“Where are you hurt?”

“Uh, just here…”

Xia Qian lowered her chin slightly, gesturing towards her chest and ribs, which were wrapped like a mummy.

When she looked up again, Jiang Buwei had already walked straight to her left, settling onto the edge of the bed beside her.

“Let me see.”

The two sat shoulder to shoulder.

The business empress raised her sleeve and extended a hand, her slender, pale jade fingers gently touching Xia Qian’s injured area.

Having grown up, this was the first time she had been touched by a woman other than her mother or a doctor.

A tingling sensation, like an electric shock, shot from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head.

However, a sharp, intense pain immediately followed.

“Ah—hiss! Ow, ow, ow! Boss, please be gentle!”

Jiang Buwei withdrew her hand.

Seeing Xia Qian’s brows and nose nearly twisted into a knot, her face etched with agony, a flicker of anxiety and pity crossed her eyes.

“How did you get injured?”

“This…”

Xia Qian was about to speak, but she truly didn’t know where to begin. Should she mention being attacked by an unknown madwoman?

Or should she explain that she had no choice but to act to save Seven Hues? Unsure whether to reveal everything—she herself was utterly bewildered—Xia Qian simply concocted an excuse.

“I cut myself.”

“Hmph.”

Jiang Buwei let out a cold snort, her gaze turning stern. She was clearly dissatisfied with such an ambiguous explanation.

However, seeing Xia Qian’s troubled expression, which didn’t seem to be a lie, she changed the subject.

“A few nights ago, the spiritual energy in Liangqu City surged unusually, and a brilliant light burst forth, turning night into day—the direction was precisely here, in Willow Lane. Although the authorities announced it was an accidental fire, claiming the patrol guards had cast spells to mitigate the disaster, making it appear as if nothing serious happened, it clearly sounds like an evasion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Ahahaha, how would I know about such a matter? I slept soundly that night… would you believe me if I said that?”

Xia Qian offered a strained laugh, feigning helplessness.

“You really shouldn’t ask me about this. If you must ask, go ask Daddy Liu. I don’t know what happened, and he hasn’t told me either. If you manage to get to the bottom of it, Boss, perhaps you could let me know too?”

“You’re still as slippery as ever. It seems your head wasn’t injured after all.”

Jiang Buwei’s lips curved slightly, making it hard to tell whether her expression conveyed relief or sarcasm.

This woman, with just a smile, can convey so many different meanings. She’s truly inscrutable.

Perhaps because of this, Xia Qian felt that Jiang Buwei was not the type she could easily handle.

“Never mind. Since you have your reasons for not speaking, I won’t press you further. Afterward, I’ll do as you suggested and ask old Daddy Liu.”

Despite her casual tone, Xia Qian could detect a hint of unspoken resentment in that last sentence.

“Um…”

Xia Qian asked cautiously, a touch of hesitation in her voice.

“Boss, you just said you came to discuss something with me?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

When the conversation turned to business, Jiang Buwei’s expression abruptly shifted, returning to her impeccable, flawless demeanor as a business empress.

“On the third day of next month, I will be hosting some esteemed guests. You must attend and assist in receiving them.”

“Ah? Me?”

Xia Qian pointed to the tip of her nose.

“You want me to serve drinks? I’m not much of a drinker. They say I’m the type who collapses after three drops of wine.”

Jiang Buwei’s face bloomed into a charming smile.

“I’m not asking you to sit with those drunkards who only know how to drink themselves into oblivion. It seems you don’t understand that a gentleman drinks in moderation.”

“Oh… if you put it that way, I understand.”

Xia Qian vaguely grasped the key point. Such discerning guests, whom the elegant merchant boss would call ‘gentlemen’, must be several notches above the military commanders who drank themselves senseless in the barracks.

They were likely truly cultivated noble families. Thinking this, a slight sense of anticipation, alongside her usual caution, stirred within her.

“So, you want me to play a tune to accompany the wine, just like I performed in the barracks?”

“Heh heh, your talents extend far beyond that.”

This time, when Jiang Buwei chuckled, Xia Qian knew exactly what she was thinking.

She nodded repeatedly, adding, “Yes, yes, and singing—that news spread quite fast, didn’t it?”

“Liangqu City is a hub of activity, with people constantly coming and going, its connections most intimate. Naturally, rumors spread quickly, especially tales of talented individuals and unusual occurrences that delight the common folk. The greater the disparity in status, the more people enjoy associating with the powerful and witnessing a commoner’s meteoric rise.”

Jiang Buwei’s expression revealed a touch of satisfaction, much like a merchant whose prized collection receives praise, thereby affirming her excellent judgment and filling her with emotional gratification.

“Red silk dances through spring’s willows, golden chalice tilts, crimson wax trails. Clouded hair half-fallen, soft fragrant soul, clappers urge on warm laughter. Drunk, I lie on carved railings, dreaming of distant lands, desert sands bury old dust.”

“The lyrics you composed that day have already spread throughout Liangqu. Before hearing them, who would have dared to imagine that such exquisite verses could come from the hand of a new male courtesan from Willow Lane?”

Facing her patroness’s appreciative gaze, Xia Qian did not preen with a triumphant smile. Instead, she simply sighed deeply, a hint of helplessness in her tone.

“Red silk dances through spring’s willows, golden chalice tilts, crimson wax trails. Clouded hair half-fallen, soft fragrant soul, clappers urge on warm laughter. Drunk, I lie on carved railings, dreaming of foreign lands, who remembers a heroic soul?”

“Ah, I can write as many such verses as you want. There’s no particular emphasis on antithetical couplets, imagery, meter, or rhyme. It’s purely a doggerel, strung together to sound catchy, with some flowery words, and taking advantage of phrases people haven’t heard much. It’s just a small trick, nothing worth mentioning.”

Unlike those so-called academic elites whose false modesty is actually a form of pride, she genuinely felt it was insignificant. However, Jiang Buwei meticulously pondered the lyrics and melody, sighing inwardly.

The same words, yet he merely changed the last line, elevating it from the decadent lament of a male courtesan yearning for home with no return, to a mournful reflection on a crumbling nation, with a heart dedicated to its people. Compared to the original, the artistic realm is entirely different.

She was both a rare and precious Spirit Cauldron and a charming, talented individual. The more she pondered, the more Jiang Buwei was reluctant to hand over this extraordinary talent to another.

Yet, seen from another perspective, perhaps only Xia Qian was suitable to serve as the stepping stone to her grand path, fulfilling her plan for revenge.