Chapter 2

Song Shan’s eyes, still as a secluded spring, flickered.

“Words cannot repay such kindness. I will certainly—”

I cut him off. “Once it’s done, you have to keep me rich for the rest of my life.”

I didn’t like doing good deeds for nothing.

And I liked seeing good people framed and cut down young even less.

Our time was nearly up for the day.

I stretched and prepared to head home.

Song Shan called after me. “Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival. Do you have plans?”

“Yes. I start taking clients.”

His face darkened.

Perhaps because the passage was about to disappear.

In the blink of an eye, I was back in my own room.

The madam was hammering on my door.

“Chunniang! Chunniang, open up! Your client can’t wait!”

Chunniang.

A decent name.

I had never even had a name as a child.

For years, I thought “Stinking Brat” was my name.

When I was five, a little brother arrived.

My parents took me into the city.

In the crush of the crowd, they let go of my hand.

I actually knew the way home.

But if they didn’t want me, I didn’t need a home either.

Earlier, Song Shan had politely asked for my “lovely name.”

Stinking Brat didn’t seem very lovely.

So I blurted out, “Chunniang.”

The madam had given me that name.

“A born courtesan, this one. From now on, you’ll be called Chunniang.”

I went to the door and lifted the bar.

I wondered what was going on.

It wasn’t Mid-Autumn yet. Was I starting early?

I didn’t see Song Shan again for several days.

I kept my window open, but the passage never appeared.

Until today, when I was sprawled on my bed, utterly exhausted.

Song Shan’s voice came from behind me.

“It’s been a few days. You look tired.”

“I am. Worn out. There are far too many clients!”

I dragged myself lazily off the bed.

Song Shan frowned, his gaze sharpening.

“Clients?”

“Didn’t you buy your freedom?”

His voice was several times fiercer than usual.

I hardly dared breathe.

I even snatched up a pillow on instinct.

If Lord Song always spoke to ordinary people like this…

Perhaps the charges weren’t entirely unjust…

I nodded at him cautiously.

“I did, I did. I won’t have to take clients anymore.”

“Good. How?”

His expression eased, and I cleared my throat.

The story of how I had bought my freedom was rather involved.

A wealthy fellow had taken a fancy to me and couldn’t wait until Mid-Autumn.

The moment she had a few large silver ingots in hand, the madam began hammering on my door as if her life depended on it.

Then she shoved a man as fat as a pig into my room.

I watched him unfasten his clothes, his two trotters fumbling at his waist.

An instant later, he was a pig who could do nothing but squeal.

I was vicious in a fight.

A master had taught me once.

I could split wood with my palm or strike someone without drawing blood, damaging only the organs inside.

After I drove him out, he brought a whole pack of men to teach me a lesson.

Soon they were all rolling on the floor, and none of them dared touch me again.

Song Shan coughed softly.

“What if they reported you to the authorities?”

A good guess, Lord Song.

They had indeed reported me.

Only, by the time the constables arrived, I was covered in injuries.

Blood soaked my clothes, and tears streamed down my face like rain on pear blossoms.

The men who had made the complaint, on the other hand, hadn’t a scratch on them.

The constables gave them a scolding. “Remember, the girls at Spring Breeze House are people too.”

Then they turned and left.

“You hurt yourself almost as badly as you hurt them. What kind of bargain is that? Where are you injured? Have you put medicine on it?”

Song Shan was a gentleman, hardly the sort to put his hands on a woman.

Now he was clumsily tugging up my sleeves.

I tucked my hands behind my back.

Honestly, how had he ever come first in those examinations…?

Why would I bleed for people like that?

There were cosmetics right there on the dressing table: red, purple, whatever color I needed.

Then I went to the kitchen, threatened Niu San the cook into giving me three bowls of pig’s blood, and poured it over my clothes.

When Song Shan learned I wasn’t hurt, he seemed to regret having been so quick to put his hands all over me.

His face flushed, and he changed the subject.

“So that’s how you bought your freedom?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh.”

He looked so forlorn that I could no longer hold back my laughter.