Chapter 81: The Strong Woman

With just a few words, Miss Zhao dazzled several men until they became disoriented. They escorted her inside like stars surrounding the moon. The two women assigned to attend Lord Zeng and Brother Chun stared in shock—they had never seen a woman enter a Pleasure House so boldly. Both being women, why was the gap in their lives so immense?

Liu Liwa didn’t understand why Wu Liniang had asked him to accompany them. He felt utterly out of place. Yet that haughty Miss Zhao glanced his way twice when she walked in, her gaze seeming to hold deeper meaning.

A shiver ran down Liu Liwa’s spine. He’d heard that powerful women favored pretty-faced young men. Would I really have to play the role of the gigolo today?

As the crowd passed by, a door on the first floor suddenly swung open. Yanhong drifted out, graceful as a willow. Most of her slender legs were exposed to the air—she’d chosen a special, extremely short skirt. Clearly, she’d dressed this way knowing important guests had arrived, intending to showcase her beauty.

But upon seeing the assembly, she froze. These guests were far beyond her rank to entertain. Besides, they’d brought women along!

Yanhong offered an awkward smile and turned to hurry back inside. Just then, Miss Zhao commanded sharply, “Stop!”

Yanhong jolted and halted. Before she could react, Wen Jun rushed forward, drawing his Steel Blade to press against her neck. “How dare a lowly wench startle Miss Zhao! State your crime!”

The Steel Blade gleamed coldly, and Wen Jun radiated murderous intent. Yanhong screamed in terror before collapsing limply onto the floor. Now she understood why none of the other courtesans had dared come out—the fearsome Wen Jun was right here.

The happiest at this scene were the two courtesans upstairs. Over time, popular girls from the first floor like Yanhong had frequently stolen their guests. Unable to compete without tarnishing their own allure, they’d always hoped fate would humble Yanhong someday. Today, their grudges felt repaid.

Liu Liwa had gotten along well with Yanhong lately. He couldn’t just stand by and watch her lose her life to a blade. But Wen Jun was fiercely loyal to the Imperial Family. Since Miss Zhao was betrothed to become an Empress Consort, one frown from her instantly drew out Wen Jun’s dog-like devotion. The whole display disgusted Liu Liwa.

At that moment, Miss Zhao spoke calmly, “A misunderstanding, Supervisory Commander. Please release this lady.”

She descended like a merciful goddess, personally helping the trembling Yanhong rise. Almost like she hadn’t been the one causing the chaos moments earlier.

Wen Jun withdrew his Steel Blade and stepped aside, still glaring coldly at Yanhong. With gentleness, Miss Zhao said, “You’ve had quite a scare, my dear. I only wished to ask—where did this dress of yours come from? Its style is truly remarkable.”

Shaken to her core and fearing her life nearly ended, Yanhong realized her outfit had provoked it all. She recalled how Liu Liwa had torn the hem of her skirt, igniting her inspiration. He deserved to die! Her hand trembled as she pointed straight at him. “Him! It was…him!”

Damn! Prostitutes are heartless, actors disloyal! Liu Liwa gave a bitter smile but stayed silent. Miss Zhao glanced at him again. She calmed Yanhong by handing over Silver Taels; such perfectly staged grace. No one knew why she’d acted surprised earlier, nor why she hid it so deftly. Everyone felt puzzled—except Wen Jun, blinded by his urge to flaunt loyalty, becoming nothing but the villain.

That’s when Wu Liniang arrived. Her curvaceous figure swayed gracefully as she descended the stairs. Sinking into a curtsey, she said, “Honored guests bring glory to my humble house. We beg your forgiveness if our welcome seems imperfect.”

Though addressing them all, her phoenix eyes fixed solely on Miss Zhao. The instant their gazes met, sparks flew. To put it bluntly, both were formidable women—equally arrogant and controlling. But Wu Liniang exuded sheer dominance, ruthless as when disciplining Qin Wan’er with her Rattan Cane. Miss Zhao showed less visible force, relying instead on cunning. While she controlled events, she worked to keep her image unsullied—like feigning mercy toward Yanhong when she’d nearly gotten her killed.

“Honored to be greeted by the Madam herself,” Miss Zhao said impassively.

Both kept calm. But faced with another woman just as commanding, who could guess their thoughts? Here stood a Pleasure House Madam against the first known noblewoman leading a group of men to such a place. Conflict was inevitable.

“Honored guests, please come upstairs,” Wu Liniang said, clearly unwilling to outshine Miss Zhao now.

With a faint smile, Miss Zhao didn’t refuse. She strode forward boldly like a conquering hero.

The crowd followed behind her. Even the two courtesans recognized their leader now. Suddenly they felt lost, exactly like Liu Liwa—utterly superfluous.

Inside the luxurious Fourth Floor suite, food and wine awaited. Under Lord Zeng and Brother Chun’s gestures, the women began serving them dutifully. Wu Liniang excused herself with polite words and left. Once again, Liu Liwa had no direction.

Seating followed protocol. Miss Zhao centered the room. Left: Wen Jun, then Young Master Ye, Brother Chun, and Lord Zeng. Right: the lively Third Young Miss.

The two courtesans habitually moved to pour wine, but Miss Zhao gestured dismissively. “Do not fret, ladies. Consider you as much guests of mine as they are Lord Zeng’s and Brother Chun’s company. For minor services like pouring wine…” Here she raised a delicate finger, middle one conspicuously extended, “…leave that to him!” She pointed straight at Liu Liwa.

Liu Liwa seethed. Why do humans nowadays gesture constantly? Worse—using the middle finger so brazenly! Learn from me—I always use the index or pointer finger…

The courtesans hesitated. But seeing Lord Zeng and Brother Chun made no protest, they happily settled beside them. Nobody present objected—Liu Liwa serving them felt natural. Even the two courtesans viewed themselves a class above him.

But Liu Liwa saw through it—Miss Zhao aimed directly at him. What does this woman want? What’s her purpose? Whose idea was it to assign me as servant? Is this considered overtime? Will there be tips? And will I end up…serving a highborn female tonight?