Bloom

The cheers, the excitement, the moonlit golden overture—it was something to behold. The golden glow of lanterns bathed the night in a dreamlike reverence, their flickering flames dancing like celestial bodies against the deep indigo sky.

The scent of jasmine and ink lingered in the air, mingling with the intoxicating traces of fine wine. It was a night of celebration, of art and ambition intertwined, yet Mingyao sat at a quiet corner, brush in hand, her mind far from the revelry.

She dipped the brush into the ink, the liquid pooling like an abyss at the tip of the bristles ready to pen down her poetry submission. But as she prepared to write, her grip faltered. Her mind was nowhere near the grand gathering. She was still reeling from and savoring her victories.

The plan was a success. She had killed three birds with one stone—causing the temporary closure of the local bank, legitimizing the founding of her own bank, and subtly implicating or in the least raising suspicions about the Fourth Prince. It was a significant win.

Of course, the temporary closing of her bank was just that—temporary.

A wry smile touched her lips. She was savoring the moment.

Even with suspicions of royal involvement, the city needed a bank to function. Between her benevolent institution and the corrupt alternative, the choice was easy. Her gamble had paid off.

At first she wasn't sure if the censors would show up, but when they did, she was grateful. The race for the throne had pushed the local bank into giving her the sword she needed to finish them off. Now, tomorrow was the decisive day. She had cut off a significant source of funding for the Chens. The auction would be her move against them as a whole.

She exhaled, the satisfaction settling in her bones like a slow-burning ember. But her peace was fleeting.

Her mind moved elsewhere. Her grip on the brush tightened.

Rouyan, Black lotus she murmured.

Her gaze dropped to the parchment, the half-formed verse abandoned.

Memories of the scene flooded back. She was reliving it all.

---------

All I needed to know is what Rouyan was doing at my bank—and how to explain my role as its owner. Mingyao thought.

She pressed her fingers against her temple, exhaling slowly.

Once the censors were gone, she pushed open the wooden door to the next room. The scent of spiced tea hung in the air, mixing with the faint trace of ink and parchment.

Mo Yan—now in her true female form—sat with Rouyan, their conversation drifting in soft murmurs. The way they leaned toward each other, the ease in their smiles, made them look like old friends rather than new acquaintances.

Mingyao crossed her arms. "Mo Yan, you seem quite comfortable with our guest."

Mo Yan smirked, setting her teacup down. "Of course, Grandmaster. She is a friend I've known for a long time."

Mingyao's eyes flicked to Rouyan, whose delicate fingers were tracing the rim of her cup. "I take it she knows about our operations, then?"

Mo Yan hesitated, then dipped her head. "Yes. I'm sorry—I couldn't hide it from her."

A slow sigh left Mingyao's lips. She studied Mo Yan for a moment before shifting her attention to Rouyan. "It's okay. So, Miss..."

"Qiu Rouyan."

"Right. Miss Qiu, what brings you to our bank?"

Rouyan set down her cup. "I wanted to meet you—the Grandmaster of Yin Lian Pavilion."

Mingyao stepped closer, her feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. Her face now inches away from Rouyan's. "Oh? And why is that? Aren't you afraid I might try to silence you?"

Rouyan didn't flinch, but her fingers curled slightly against the table. Brave. Or foolish. Mingyao tilted her head, her brown eyes lingering on Rouyan's face—fascinating, just as it had been the first time she saw it. A beauty so striking it bordered on divine.

Yet there was something else—a strong sense of familiarity, stronger than before, as if she had known this face all her life. Like a song she had once known but forgotten the lyrics to.

But as Rouyan's emerald-green gaze met hers, Mingyao knew she was a stranger.

The air thickened Mingyao remaining locked onto Rouyan.

"Grandmaster, stop teasing her," Mo Yan chided, a smirk playing on her lips "She is a very delicate woman."

Rouyan finally spoke in a soft voice. "I don't care about myself—I just want to meet our soon-to-be master."

Mingyao raised a brow. "Oh? You are quite confident that we will win tomorrow."

"You are the master of Yin Lian Pavilion. Winning the auction should be an easy feat for you."

Mingyao's lips twitched, but her smile never came. "And what if I don't want to win?"

Without hesitation, Rouyan dropped to her knees. Her hands pressed against the floor, trembling. The sudden movement sent a sharp clatter through the room as her silk robes brushed against the floor. "Please, my lady, I beg of you—save my brothers and sisters."

"Don't you hate me?" Mingyao asked softly.

Rouyan blinked, confusion painting her face. "What do you mean, my lady?"

Mingyao leaned down slightly, her voice quieter, sharper. "I mean, I've seen how you look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours. You harbor resentment toward me, don't you?"

Rouyan's throat bobbed. "I don't, my lady."

"You don't have to lie, Miss Qiu." Mingyao crouched to her level. "You love Chen Xiao, don't you?"

Rouyan's lips parted, but no words came.

"That answers it, then." Mingyao's voice was quiet. "Did you come here today just to ask me to save your people, or was there another reason?"

Rouyan squeezed her eyes shut. "Yes. I would like for Qian Fu to join Yin Lian Pavilion."

Mingyao leaned in, close enough to catch the faint scent of lotus on Rouyan's skin, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "And what if I refuse?"

Rouyan's fingers curled against the floor. Tears welled in her emerald eyes, spilling onto the wood like shattered pearls. "Please, Grandmaster. You are the only one who can save them,"

Mingyao inhaled slowly. The sight of Rouyan, so desperate, so raw, gnawed at something deep within her. She exhaled, then shot up looking at the opposite direction.

"The auction will be taken care of, so you don't have to worry."

"No, it's not the auction that I fear… It's…" Rouyan trailed off, her lips parting as if struggling to find the words. She turned to Mo Yan, seeking reassurance.

Mo Yan gave a slight nod. "Just tell her. The Grandmaster is not a bad person."

Rouyan swallowed hard before finally opening her robes, revealing the mark inked upon her skin—a lotus with a crimson crescent, its edges marred by old scars, as if someone had tried to erase it.

"I am not afraid of tomorrow's outcome—not so much of the auction, but of the possible slaughter."

Mingyao turned back to face her.

"Black Lotus!"

"Yes." Rouyan's voice was barely audible "I was once a member of the organization, though I never officially became a true assassin. I thought I had escaped them, but they have come back. They are threatening to massacre Qian Fu Hall if I don't comply with their demands. Please, Grandmaster, save my people."

"I see. You seek my protection."

"Yes. You are the only one strong enough to save my family."

"What was their demand?"

Rouyan clenched her fists. "Infiltration."

"Infiltration?"

"Yes. They want informants on the inside."

"Is that why you want Qian Fu Hall to join Yin Lian?"

"Yes and no." Rouyan looked away. "I want to protect my people, but I don't have the power to do so."

Mingyao paused studying her closely. "You look a little fidgety. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I..." Rouyan hesitated before screeching" I want to save my sister."

"Your sister?"

"Yes. They took her as insurance. All that was left behind were instructions."

"Hmm. What did they say?"

Rouyan inhaled shakily. "That I must ensure you attend the Moonlit Golden Overture and participate in the contest. Then, they would return Siuyin to me."

Mingyao tilted her head. "And you want me to save your sister."

"Yes, please, I beg you." Rouyan dropped down bowing so deeply that her forehead touched the floor, tears spilling freely onto the polished wood.

Mingyao studied her before speaking. "And why are you telling me this? What if I decide not to help and instead finish off your family myself?"

Rouyan did not lift her head. "From the stories Mo Yan has told me about you, I have concluded that you are not a bad person."

Mingyao's lips quirked. "You have a lot of faith." She turned to Mo Yan. "I assume you were the one who called her here."

"Yes, Grandmaster. She asked for an audience."

"I see. Then, the request for the auction was to save her too."

"Yes, Grandmaster."

She turned back to Rouyan. "All I have to do is participate in a poetry competition?"

Rouyan whispered, "And win."

Mingyao smirked. "Of course. Anything else?"

"No, nothing else."

"Alright. You may leave. I will consider our conversation."

Rouyan got up, bowed deeply and turned to leave but hesitated. "You won't do anything to Master Chen, will you?"

Mingyao met her gaze. "Chen Xiao is not the one you should be worrying about."

Rouyan turned back and left.

The memory faded as Mingyao set down her brush, her piece finally complete. She rose to submit her work—if she succeeded, the next challenge would be a battle of couplets.