Chapter 141

“Eh? Young Master, you’re awake? Heading out already?”
Youxiang had just come in with breakfast when she saw Murong Qiufeng tugging awkwardly at his clothes while pushing open the door.

Qiufeng froze, clearly embarrassed, and gave a small nod.

She blinked, her curiosity instantly piqued. Something was off about him today.

Normally, Qiufeng was always in white—white robes, white cloak, white boots, even a fur mantle in winter. But now? A blue-green robe under a gray cloak, black boots, and a high collar pulled up so far it almost covered half his face. His hair, usually left loose with just a simple tie, was now bound up tight, with messy bangs hanging low enough to hide his eyes.

If you didn’t look carefully, you might not even recognize him in the street. Only the curve of his jaw and a sliver of nose bridge peeked out.

She’d already thought it odd that His Highness had gone to court alone this morning. Normally, the two of them were inseparable, always side by side. The prince had said Qiufeng was still asleep, and she’d just assumed he’d been pestered all night and worn out by his lord’s… antics.

But now? This was getting way too suspicious.
“Where’s Young Master going? Why didn’t you enter the palace with His Highness today? At least have breakfast before you head out—”

“Ahem… no need. I have errands. I’ll eat outside.” Qiufeng tugged at his collar again, visibly awkward.

“Ohhh, so you and His Highness are splitting up the investigation?” Youxiang’s eyes lit up with mischievous excitement. Qiufeng was such a terrible liar—it was practically written all over his face. And his story? Full of holes. But what she really wanted to know was what exactly he was sneaking off to do.

“Uh… right. No time. I’m off.” He vaulted over the courtyard wall in a blur.

Youxiang’s mouth fell open. Then she smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah-Si, you didn’t follow Young Master out? Don’t tell me you’re slacking off. I’ll have to report this to His Highness.”

From somewhere in the trees came the rustle of leaves and then a low, sulky voice: “Young Master’s orders.”

“Ohhh… so even his shadow guard was told to stay behind. My, my, Young Master, just what are you up to?” Youxiang chuckled to herself. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the breakfast tray toward the voice. “Here. A little reward for you, Ah-Si. Thanks for the hard work.”

A blur of gray caught the tray midair, not a drop spilling. The hidden guard’s face twitched, equal parts helpless and exasperated.

Meanwhile, Qiufeng was walking normally once he hit the street. He couldn’t risk using lightfoot skills in public. Which meant Youxiang, bouncing across rooftops after him, had no trouble tailing him.

But the longer she followed, the more confused she became. He was weaving through alleys, circling blocks, doubling back like he was lost. Stop, walk, stop again… was he actually lost?

No. Qiufeng wasn’t lost—he was hesitating.

After what felt like forever, he finally stopped at a certain corner, then straightened his back and walked forward with forced resolve.

Youxiang nearly laughed out loud. That corner led straight out from the prince’s mansion. All his circling had just been pointless loops.

And then—she nearly fell off the roof.

Qiufeng walked right up to a building and was waved inside by the greeters. Youxiang squinted. Oh heavens. That wasn’t just any building. That was Yuanyang Pavilion—one of the more famous brothels in the capital.

Qiufeng.
Her elegant, aloof, pure-as-snow Young Master… had just gone into a brothel.

She gaped, then clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from cackling.
Unbelievable. If it were His Highness, no one would even blink. But Qiufeng?

Could it be… he’d been pushed around too much by His Highness, and now he was here to… reclaim his manly pride?

Oh no, this was bad. If His Highness ever found out, the whole city might go up in flames.

Youxiang’s heart thudded in alarm, but her grin only widened with gleeful mischief. She darted after him, but was promptly blocked at the door.

“Ladies not allowed,” the burly doorkeepers said flatly. Even brothels with male courtesans didn’t take female clients—the trouble was never worth it.

Youxiang just arched a brow and flicked a banknote at them. “Get your boss. Tell her an old friend is here.”

The men’s eyes went round at the amount. Their frowns melted into grins as they ushered her inside to wait while someone went upstairs to fetch the madam.

Youxiang rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, pathetic. Her gaze slid toward the stairs—just in time to catch a glimpse of a gray-cloaked figure disappearing into a private room. She tilted her head away quickly, hiding her face behind her sleeve.

A moment later, a heavily powdered, overly plump madam waddled down the stairs, layers of makeup failing to cover the deep wrinkles on her face.

“Well, well. And who’s this pretty young miss?”

Youxiang flicked another banknote between her fingers, her eyes still darting toward that closed door. She slipped the note into the madam’s hand. “That young gentleman who just went inside. What’s his business here?”

The madam’s eyes gleamed with greed, though she forced a smile. “Why, what else would a gentleman come here for? Naturally, for pleasure. Hahaha.”

Youxiang’s lips thinned. She slapped down two more notes.

The madam and the doorkeepers swallowed hard. “Miss, we can’t just—our establishment has rules. We can’t reveal client—”

Five more notes fluttered down onto the table.

The madam practically drooled, though she still hemmed and hawed.

Youxiang’s smile sharpened. With a flick of her sleeve, she laid down a golden token.

The madam’s eyes lit up—then froze. She stared at the emblem stamped in the center. Recognition—and horror—spread across her face.

It was the unmistakable crest of Prince Ye.

Her knees nearly buckled.

Youxiang calmly swept the token away and tucked it back into her sleeve. She shoved two notes into the madam’s arms. “Enough stalling. Talk.”

The madam’s painted lips trembled. “Y-yes, yes! That young gentleman—he didn’t come for fleshly pleasures. He came to speak with one of our in-house painters.”

“Your brothel has… a painter?” Youxiang blinked.