The heavy snow fell that day, painting the world in a vast expanse of white. Only a few crimson plum blossoms on the branches provided the sole splash of color.
A woman led a child by the hand into a courtyard.
The little girl she held had cheeks flushed red from the cold.
The girl had never seen such a grand courtyard before. She lowered her head, gazing curiously at the patterned blue bricks lining the corridor.
A gaudily dressed woman came out to greet them, eyeing the girl with a critical gaze. The child widened her eyes at the beautiful woman draped in fine silks, thinking to herself, *This must be the wife of an official.*
This grand courtyard, she assumed, must be the legendary government office.
A pair of pristine white boots stepped onto the snow-covered courtyard, and the grown Bai Roushuang stood nearby, staring blankly at the scene before her.
Her six-year-old self had been wrong—this was no government office, nor was the woman an official’s wife. The grand courtyard was a brothel, and the gaudily dressed woman was the madam.
At the age of six, Bai Roushuang had been sold into a brothel by her mother.
Back then, she had been too naive to understand, not even given the chance to ask why. She only remembered her mother embracing her, weeping as she promised that once the family had enough money in a few years, she would come back to take her home.
The madam stood nearby, curling her lips in disdain.
For many years afterward, Bai Roushuang had comforted herself with the thought that her mother must have believed a six-year-old would be safe in a brothel—that she intended to redeem her before she reached the age of being forced to entertain clients, once the family’s fortunes improved.
But she never came.
Bai Roushuang watched as mother and daughter clung to each other, weeping.
She remembered—she had been on a training expedition with her martial siblings. How had she ended up here?
Everything before her was replaying. The madam grew impatient and urged them on, and Bai Roushuang’s mother reluctantly released her, looking back every few steps as she left.
Hesitating, Bai Roushuang chased after her mother, but the woman seemed oblivious to her grown self. Clutching the silver the madam had given her, she left the courtyard and walked down the long street.
Bai Roushuang hurried after her. Snowflakes swirled in the air, and her mother carried no oil-paper umbrella. Bai Roushuang held her outer robe over her mother’s head, shielding her from the snow.
She remembered her mother was frail and prone to tears. Even in this illusion, she instinctively protected her, not wanting her to fall ill from the cold.
Her mother walked a long, long way, hastening out of the city, passing through a town, then riding a slow ox-cart for nearly two hours before finally returning to a village as the sun dipped low. She entered a small courtyard with practiced familiarity, where a man came out to greet her. Bai Roushuang recognized him—Uncle Wang the Second, their neighbor, who had often been kind to them, bringing them food when they struggled.
He looked at her silent mother and asked, “Well? How did it go?”
Her mother shoved him, tears streaming. “It’s all your fault, forcing me to sell Shuang’er.”
Uncle Wang the Second soothed her. “There, there. I had no choice. My parents were already unhappy about me marrying a widow. Taking in a useless girl on top of that? They’d never agree to let you in the house. And we can’t afford another mouth to feed. Besides, that child always reminds you of that good-for-nothing ex-husband of yours—better to sell her off, use the money for dowry, and give my parents no reason to complain.”
Her mother wiped her tears and fell silent.
Uncle Wang the Second pressed, “Where’d you sell her?”
“Where else could I? There aren’t many wealthy households nearby, and none wanted a six-year-old girl,” her mother sobbed. “And you were afraid of neighbors gossiping if I sold her too close, so I took her to that brothel you mentioned.”
Uncle Wang the Second pulled her into an embrace, his hands wandering suggestively. “Stop crying. Once we’re married, we’ll have plenty of healthy children of our own.”
Bai Roushuang stared at them, trembling from head to toe.
She screamed, demanding to know why her mother had done this. She knew raising her alone had been hard, but she had tried so hard to help with chores… Why sell her, only to lie and give her false hope?
But the two before her neither heard nor saw her.
Bai Roushuang drew the sword at her waist and slashed at the man with all her strength.
The scene shattered. Darkness swallowed her vision, and when it cleared, she found herself standing beside her teenage self.
Fourteen-year-old Bai Roushuang lay on the ground, her thigh pinned under the foot of one of the brothel’s enforcers.
This was flexibility training—forcing her legs apart.
Sweat beaded on the girl’s forehead, but she bit her lip, refusing to cry out.
From the age of ten, Bai Roushuang had shed her scrawny, dark-skinned appearance, growing into a delicate beauty. The madam had naturally taken notice.
While other girls her age had already been “broken in,” she alone was kept untouched, paraded before clients but never allowed to be taken.
She remembered the madam’s words: *This is called preserving your value for the highest bidder.*
The grown Bai Roushuang’s eyes burned crimson. She swung her sword again, cleaving through the enforcer.
The vision fractured once more, shifting to another memory.
Sixteen-year-old Bai Roushuang hid in a corner, weeping. Sensitive as she was, she could tell the madam was preparing her for her first night with a client.
A stunning woman in her thirties found her. “Shuang’er, why are you hiding here?”
“Sister Lan?”
The woman sighed and pulled her up. “Don’t cry, child. Everyone in this place goes through it. If you play your cards right, you can have men fawning over you—isn’t that better than breaking your back tilling the fields in some village?”
The grown Bai Roushuang watched with complicated emotions.
This was Sister Lan—the one who had cared for her most in the brothel. It was Sister Lan who had taught her to stay on good terms with every client, to never offend anyone, and to always leave herself an escape route.
Sister Lan had also advised her to find a wealthy man who fancied her, to string him along with occasional favors, and to convince him to take her as his exclusive. Serving one man was always better than serving many.
But in the end, it was also Sister Lan who had betrayed her.
*“I’m sorry,”* she remembered Sister Lan saying as she adjusted her hairpin, casting her a devastatingly beautiful glance. *“But you stole the man I rely on. I’m getting older, and my standing here depends entirely on Master Shen’s favor. Without him, my life would be miserable.”*
*“You—!”*
*“Don’t hate me. Look, I’m just a brothel woman too,”* Sister Lan had murmured. *“If I were a rich young mistress dripping in silks and jewels, I could save ten of you without blinking. But I can barely keep myself afloat—I don’t have the luxury of kindness.”*
That was the first time Bai Roushuang learned that even goodness required privilege.
Clenching her teeth, Bai Roushuang fought back the raging fury inside her. *It’s fine, it’s fine,* she told herself. She had already lived through this. Tonight, the Longyu Immortal Venerable would descend from the heavens and take her away.
But no matter how long she waited, her master never came.
As a plump, greasy hand reached for her waistband, panic surged. She raised her sword and hacked at the scene once more.
When she opened her eyes again, she was seated inside a red silk canopy. The madam herself stood before her, carefully painting her eyebrows.
*“Master Xu has requested you tonight. He’s famously generous—once you make your fortune, don’t forget your old Mama, hmm?”*
“What?” Bai Roushuang instinctively swatted away the hand touching her.
The brothel madam paid no mind to her reaction and pulled her in front of a bronze mirror. “Enough with the tantrums. Look, aren’t you beautiful?”
Bai Roushuang stared at her reflection—the translucent gauze robe hung loosely over her frame, barely concealing the red undergarment embroidered with mandarin ducks frolicking in water.
Her face paled as she pointed at the mirror. “No, this isn’t me. I left with my master to cultivate immortality—this isn’t me!”
The madam gave her an odd look. “Your Sister Lan did go too far, I’ve already scolded her. Listen to me—even if you’ve lost your innocence, you can still fetch a good price. Why put on this mad act?”
“No, that’s not it,” Bai Roushuang grabbed her sleeve. “You were there the day my master came—you saw it too, didn’t you?”
The madam brushed her off. “Stop this nonsense. If you’re truly insane, you’ll end up serving lowly stable hands and porters. Master Xu is already being generous by not minding that someone else took your first night. Tonight, you’d better act normal, even if you have to fake it!”
“I…”
The madam softened her tone after the harsh words. “Just humor Master Xu tonight, and everything will be fine. Sister Lan is getting old—give it a couple of years, and once no one fawns over her anymore, she’ll be at your mercy.”
Bai Roushuang ignored her and frantically searched the room for her sword, but found nothing—not even the storage ring she always carried. As she rummaged, her elbow struck the corner of a cabinet, sending a sharp pain through her arm.
The madam continued, “You’ve been raving about immortality and Dustless Island ever since that night. We’ve seen courtesans lose their minds before—I’ll have someone prepare medicine for you. You’d better pull yourself together.”
Bai Roushuang covered her ears, but the madam’s voice pierced through like needles. Could it be… that everything about cultivation, her master, her senior sister—were they all just delusions?
Had the betrayal by Sister Lan, whom she once trusted, been so unbearable that she crafted a dream to escape?
A dream of Dustless Island, a master who loved roasted chicken, and… a senior sister.
Xu Shulou… Bai Roushuang whispered the name. Someone so upright and fearless had never existed in her life—she didn’t think she could have conjured such a person in her dreams.
Had Sister Lan’s words that day driven her to imagine a noble-born savior, a golden branch of jade leaves, to redeem herself?
How could she have dreamed something so absurd?
“Roushuang, focus!”
Her senior sister’s voice? Bai Roushuang jerked her head up, staring at the woman approaching against the light. “Are you real or just another illusion?”
“I am real,” Xu Shulou extended a hand, her gaze knowing.
That knowing look stung Bai Roushuang, and she shied away. “You saw everything?”
Xu Shulou nodded.
Bai Roushuang looked down at the sheer robe barely covering her body, shame and bitter irony overwhelming any relief. “Sister Lan once said that if she were a noble lady, she could have saved me.”
“…”
Bai Roushuang scrubbed at her reddened lips with her sleeve, smearing the rouge into a grotesque streak. “Just like you. You’re a lofty golden branch, now the prodigious head disciple of Bright Moon Peak. You’ve never known hardship, never had to fight for anything—people only ever envy you. Of course, you can afford to lavish your pity on others… Do you know? You always make me feel ashamed. But if I’d been born into your life, maybe I’d be just as magnanimous.”
Xu Shulou knew Bai Roushuang was ensnared by the illusion, so she ignored the words and firmly grasped her hand. “I’m taking you out of here.”
Bai Roushuang clutched her hand, warmth seeping into her skin, and for a moment, clarity returned. “Senior Sister… you’re real?”
Then, the scene shattered—the opulent brothel dissolved, replaced by towering imperial walls.
Bai Roushuang stumbled back in shock. “What… what is this?”
“This is my inner demon.”
Seeing Bai Roushuang on the verge of losing herself, Xu Shulou had stepped into the illusion. To break it, she forcibly shifted Bai Roushuang’s torment to her own.
Xu Shulou remained calm, even offering a faint smile. “I saw yours. Now you see mine. Consider us even.”
