The Flowing Wine Courtyard was one of the highest-end and most expensive quarters in Yunlai Pavilion. Just the venue fee alone cost a hefty sum.
Normally, Fu Feng would not qualify to serve guests in such a place. But now, acting as a guide, he thought he might even have the chance to connect with someone from the Flowing Wine Courtyard.
With that thought, he bowed slightly and said, "Please, come with me."
Once he realized that Song Miaozhu was in a hurry, he picked up the pace. Along the way, to avoid an awkward silence, he casually introduced the various courtyards and private rooms they passed.
Song Miaozhu glanced around without lingering too long. Compared to Fragrant Cloud Pavilion, Yunlai Pavilion was more expansive and grand. Courtyard after courtyard unfolded like a labyrinth, with every step revealing a new view. The landscapes and decorations were all lifelike, meticulously crafted down to the finest detail.
However, some pieces looked like they had been around for quite some time. There was a sense of wear.
Given the age of Yunlai Pavilion, she did not need to ask to guess that these paper-crafted decorations—clearly beyond the standard of ordinary pieces—must have originated from the old Anshou Hall.
Before long, they arrived at the entrance of the Flowing Wine Courtyard. Even from outside, the sound of running water could be heard, quiet and melodic, like a spring trickling through smooth stones.
"Is there actually water inside this courtyard?" she asked, intrigued.
The only water in the underworld was the River of Forgetfulness, and even that was not flowing. It remained motionless no matter where it was placed.
Even if someone had brought it here, it should not sound like that.
So how could there be water sounds here?
"There is water," Fu Feng said with a smile, "but it's paper water. This courtyard is named after the ancient 'winding stream with floating cups' game. The paper stream is both the centerpiece and namesake."
"But don't worry," Fu Feng added as they approached the gate. "Though the paper water can be heard from outside, no other sounds leave the courtyard. All attendants here are bound by strict confidentiality contracts. Guests may speak freely inside."
The gates were already open. On either side stood rows of attendants, perfectly still, their presence refined yet impossibly captivating. Men and women alike, dressed in silks and gauze, robes in traditional styles and modern cuts alike, each one a vision of allure. Their features were impossibly well-proportioned, their makeup subtle but enhancing, their auras polished like gems under candlelight.
Song Miaozhu froze mid-step.
Compared to these beings—each like a figure straight out of an ink painting or fashion editorial—Fu Feng, whom she had just mentally bookmarked as model material, suddenly seemed... ordinary.
That was saying something.
Suppressing the sudden flutter in her chest, she produced the invitation she'd received a few days earlier. The steward ghost, in elegant black robes, took it with a respectful nod.
"Manager Song, please select two attendants to accompany you today," he said with a slight bow.
Behind him, the attendants—all of them—turned to face her in unison.
The effect was instant and overwhelming.
Each gaze was intense but gentle, like being looked at by a lover who had spent lifetimes waiting. Their expressions held nothing but sincerity and expectation. It wasn't lewd, but it was intimate, like she was the center of a romantic drama where everyone wanted her attention.
It was absurd.
She'd never been in this kind of situation before—this wasn't some dating sim! But somehow, here she was, standing in front of an entire lineup of heart-stopping beauties. And it wasn't just the men.
Her gaze drifted toward a tall woman in crimson robes with a dancer's poise and eyes that held mischief and moonlight. For a moment, Song Miaozhu forgot where she was. That woman wasn't just beautiful. She was magnetic.
Her heart gave an embarrassed little jolt, and she quickly looked away, trying not to let it show.
If she kept staring any longer, she'd feel like some indecisive flirt who had just broken a hundred hearts.
Trying to compose herself, she casually pointed. "That one... and that one."
She picked the woman in red and, just to balance things out—or so she told herself—a man in understated robes whose quiet demeanor reminded her of Fu Feng, before he'd become background noise.
The woman in red stepped forward with fluid grace and bowed deeply, her voice like a harp string in warm air. "Jing Hong greets Manager Song."
The man cupped his hands and spoke with even calm. "You Long greets Manager Song."
"Nice to meet you," Song Miaozhu said coolly.
She had no choice. She couldn't afford to look shy or overwhelmed now. Especially not with a potential business partner waiting inside. Once she had made her selection, the ghost steward called out toward the courtyard, his voice amplified with ghostly power.
"Manager Song of Anshou Hall has arrived!"
Every ghost within would've heard that.
"Manager Song, please follow us," Jing Hong said gently, and before Song Miaozhu could react, a hand—slender and warm—slipped into hers.
A faint fragrance of orchids and spice wrapped around her, subtle but intoxicating. Song Miaozhu's breath caught. This place was dangerous.
"Manager Song," said a voice from inside, smooth and confident, "I've heard so much about you. What a pleasure to finally meet in person."
The one who stepped forward was not an attendant but someone of much higher status. A female ghost, radiant in form and poise, rose from her seat. Her clothing shimmered like flowing ink on silk, and her eyes held an elegant shrewdness.
Even among beauties, she stood out.
You Long leaned in, voice lowered but clear. "This is Manager Liang of Fortune Garment Workshop. She's the host of today's gathering."
Song Miaozhu snapped back to focus, offering a polished smile. "So it's Manager Liang. A pleasure to meet you at last."
"I've heard much of your Yin Paper Clothes," Manager Liang said warmly. "Since both our businesses revolve around paper clothing, we must exchange ideas."
"Of course, of course," Song Miaozhu replied smoothly.
But as they settled into the courtyard, and Jing Hong poured her a cup of tea with that same soft fragrance lingering in the air, Song Miaozhu found it a little hard to keep her thoughts strictly on business.