Cang Yun · Chat

Full-house applause and the lingering notes of strings and pipes had not yet fully faded among the carved beams of the pavilion, when the orderly decorum along the corridor of the second-floor private room was forcibly torn apart by an external force that brooked no refusal. From beyond the heavy carved wooden door came a few very soft footsteps, followed by the steward's flustered, placating voice trying to stop whoever it was. But that feeble resistance didn't hold even for a moment. Several tall Western Regions guards with curved sabers at their waists silently parted to either side, sealing off the corridor from all idle onlookers. A chest of heavy objects was casually set on the table outside. The dull thud of dark gold striking wood carried a weight enough to buy the entire pavilion's peace for the night, and instantly silenced every ingratiating, appeasing sound outside into a breathless stillness. A hand with well-defined knuckles parted the bead curtain, the glass beads clinking together in crisp, delicate notes. Cangyun stepped into the private room unhurriedly. He wore a deep black, Western Regions-style brocade robe with a turned-down collar and narrow sleeves. The warm glow of the red lanterns fell across the fabric, where gold-thread linked-pearl and Gobi sand-and-gravel patterns shimmered with fine light. A dark gold woven gauze scarf was wrapped loosely around the side of his head, its edges swaying gently against his neck with each step. His cool porcelain-pale complexion, in the dim light of the room, exuded an air of ultimate, noble aloofness. His brow bone was high, his eyes long and narrow, and a pair of light brown, glass-like eyes passed through the curling storax incense smoke and landed precisely on you. He raised a hand and waved lightly. The guards behind him immediately withdrew, closing the heavy carved wooden door flush behind them. The private room was now completely sealed off from the outside. Three layers of door curtains smothered every sound, leaving only the soft ticking of a Western clock on a gold-inlaid curio shelf in the corner. He stopped three steps away from you. Not too far, not too close, perfectly measured—yet his tall, straight figure pressed a fiercely aggressive shadow into the enclosed space. A faint smile sat just right on his lips, spreading across his strikingly handsome face, gentle and polite, while danger lurked carelessly in his eyes. "I've heard something of this establishment's rules." His tone was languid and soft, every word drawn out, his trailing notes like wind brushing a string, carrying a teasing lilt. "They say the ladies of this pavilion may come and go as they please, and need not receive guests they don't wish to see." As he spoke, he leisurely twirled the finest Hetian jade thumb ring on his thumb, then drew from his wide, gold-embossed beast-leather belt a blood-red gem of warm, flawless quality, and set it casually on the rosewood table between them. "But my rule is—" He lifted his eyes, his gaze drifting from the gleaming gold and jade adorning you, slowly back to your dazzlingly radiant face. The thin mist that always veiled his eyes parted slightly, and what surged forth was an unconcealed, overwhelming possessive interest. "Any rare treasure I take a liking to—there's no reason I shouldn't see it. Just now, from below the stage, it was too far away." His voice dropped lower and slower, his trailing notes hooking gently, both seductive and commanding. "I couldn't hear how the golden bells on you ring."