Doubt

Chen Xiao watched from the shadows as scholars from across the city flooded into the grand hall. The lanterns cast flickering gold against the polished wood, their glow swallowed by the hushed murmurs and rustling robes. The allure of 200 taels paled in comparison to the prestige that came with victory in this poetry competition.

He leaned slightly against a carved wooden pillar, half-concealed in the dim light. His sister's ingenuity when it came to money never failed to astound him. In just one night, she would clear the debts shackling his name. Freedom was within reach—both his and Miss Shen's. Yet, even as the thought settled, something else gripped his attention, freezing him in place.

A familiar figure stepped into the hall, her frame draped in the crisp lines of a scholar's robe. But no matter how she dressed, that face was unmistakable—Lady Shen. Or was it? The morning's events still lingered in his mind, the uncertainty gnawing at him. Could he trust his own eyes this time?

His memory drifted back to Chen Luwei's stern command—secure the muse of Xianyang. A woman whose mere presence could shift the city's fate. The number one courtesan of Jin Lan Pavilion, she appeared before the world only twice a year, her beauty spoken of in reverence. Yet those who claimed to have seen her could never agree on her features. Some swore she was otherworldly, while others dismissed her as a fleeting illusion born of longing and candlelight. 

A specter of beauty, her visage defied recollection. Even those who had shared her company spoke in contradictions, as if the memory of her unraveled upon reflection. To some, her eyes were almond-shaped, luminous as the moon; to others, they were round and brimming with mischief. Her hair cascaded like ink, yet under candlelight, it gleamed with hints of crimson. The mystery only deepened the legend, ensuring that whenever the Moonlit Golden Overture was announced, the Chens reaped well.

Doubt had always shadowed her legend, but the city's men did not care. They longed for her, obsessed over the mere possibility of glimpsing perfection. 

Now, Chen Xiao faced the challenge of contacting her. Normally, it would take at least a week's notice just to arrange a meeting, let alone persuade her to perform that evening. The usual channels would not suffice.

He made his way to a dock along the Dongxi River, loaded his black lantern, and placed inside it a poem, a message, and a budding flower—symbolizing the urgency of his request. Letting the lantern drift along the river, he followed it subtly, hoping to see who would retrieve it. Time passed, and no one seemed to take notice, until an old man finally fished it from the water.

Chen Xiao hesitated.

Dressed in a patchwork robe, the elder examined the lantern curious. A simple bystander, not an attendant. A sigh left Chen Xiao's lips as he stepped forward. "Elder, would you be so kind as to return that to the river? It must find its intended hands."

The old man gave him a long look before nodding and releasing the lantern back to the water.

Chen Xiao turned on his heel, walking away, his heart thrumming with uncertainty. Would there be a response?

Now, as he wandered through the bustling streets, his thoughts swirled. Doubt crept into his mind. What was Shen Yueqing's true identity? At first, he suspected she was a spy sent by Yin Lian to lure him into their house, thereby boosting their business. But things were not so simple.

She had an unusual amount of freedom for a courtesan. While not inherently suspicious, it was peculiar that she could spend long hours away from Yin Lian without consequence—a privilege typically reserved for high-ranking courtesans. Yet, aside from poetry, Lady Shen lacked the usual grace and refinement.

In fact, she was quite the opposite—outgoing, stubborn, gluttonous, and utterly incapable of dancing. So why was her debt so high? 500 taels—an exorbitant amount, enough to buy and stock at least three shops.

Could she be of fallen noble lineage?

He stopped in his tracks, pedestrians and carriages bustling past him, their movement reduced to mere background noise. If she was of noble descent, what was her connection to the storyteller? The man seemed protective of her and was clearly a highly skilled martial artist. Their bond was intimate—what was their history? Perhaps they came from the same village? Or were they both part of a secret organization?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. But then he reconsidered—Lady Shen was far too clumsy to be an assassin. And besides, if she were an assassin, what would be her purpose in approaching him?

Lost in thought, Chen Xiao drifted forward, oblivious to the bustling street around him. The crowd surged like an unrelenting tide, brushing past him in waves. A sudden jolt—someone collided with his shoulder before vanishing into the sea of bodies. The impact sent him stumbling, his boots scraping against the stone road. Before he could regain his balance, momentum carried him straight into the path of a noblewoman stepping gracefully down from her carriage, the embroidered hem of her robes swaying like ripples in a pond.

Silk and perfume enveloped him as they fell, her weight pressing against his chest.

"Lady Shen?" he asked, his eyes locking onto her face.

"Get off my lady, you lecher!" a young feminine voice snapped from the side.

The noblewoman hastily pushed herself off him, assisted by her maid. Chen Xiao, still recovering, analyzed her features. She looked like Lady Shen—but something was slightly different.

"My lady," he began cautiously, brushing dust from his sleeves. "Are you familiar with a Shen Yueqing?"

The maid bristled. "How dare—"

A delicate hand rose, silencing her with a mere gesture. The noblewoman's lips curled into the ghost of a smile. "I don't know any Shen Yueqing."

"Oh, that's unfortunate."

She turned, prepared to leave—but fate intervened. A carriage barreled forward, its wheels rattling against the cobbled road.

Without thinking, Chen grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his chest his arm encircling her waist, shielding her from harm. She gasped, her fingers briefly clutching his robe. A moment stretched between them—her warm breath against his collar, before she pulled away, cheeks tinged a delicate pink.

"How dare you treat a princ—" The maid's words cut off as the noblewoman shot her a warning glance.

"Please respect my lady," the maid corrected, voice tense. "She is soon to be a married woman."

Chen Xiao exhaled slowly, adjusting his sleeves. "My apologies. I saw the danger and acted on instinct."

The noblewoman inhaled deeply, regaining her bearing. "No, I understand, Young Master. If you don't mind, I would like to take my leave."

"Wait."

She hesitated.

"You are betrothed?" 

"Yes, I am."

"Then... do you have any siblings?"

Her lips drew into a faint smile. "Why do you ask so suddenly, Master…?"

"Chen Xiao. My name is Chen Xiao."

"Why do you ask, Master Chen?"

"Your face is familiar. I wonder if you are someone I should know."

The woman chuckled a soft laugh. "I have many siblings—some known, others unknown to me. But if you ask about my closest family, I have only one older brother."

"And a sister?"

"I have quite a few, but I am not very close with any of them."

"I see. Thank you, Lady...?"

She smiled, enigmatic. "If fate wills it, you will learn my name."

She vanished into the crowd, leaving Chen Xiao staring after her. Was she truly Shen Yueqing's sister? If so, then perhaps Miss Shen was of noble blood after all. That would explain her freedom and high price.

His thoughts swirled as he wandered aimlessly. A splash of cold, dirty water from above snapped him from his reverie. He cursed under his breath, reaching into his robe for a handkerchief—only for a small piece of paper to slip from his sleeve.

Meet me at the Silver moon tea house this afternoon.

That was all it said.

He hesitated, unsure of the sender. Was it from the noblewoman he had just met, or someone else entirely? He considered ignoring it, but doing so felt impolite. And so, he went—and thankfully, he did, for the message was from the legendary Fei Xian. Had he not attended the tea invitation, the Moonlit Golden Overture would have been a disaster. Now, all he had to do was fulfill her request.

Chen Xiao's eyes followed the figure he believed to be Lady Shen through the crowd. Where had she gotten the 200 taels? He had always refrained from participating in this contest due to a conflict of interest, but tonight, to fulfill Fei Xian's request and resolve his doubts, he would take the stage.

Then, silence.

A presence entered the hall, commanding every whisper into submission. Draped in crimson, her mere existence shifted the air.

The usher trembled. "Please, come in, Lady Ye."

Murmurs.

"She's here for her brother again."

"What an unlucky man."

Chen Xiao exhaled slowly. Tonight, the pieces would fall into place.