In the upper room of the Hall of Loving Benevolence, Liu Zihe sat on the edge of the bed, his silk robe shimmering in the afternoon light. He was vibrating with the nervous energy of a man who has just been promised the impossible.
"A commission?" Zihe repeated, skeptical. "You want me to walk into her house and ask for... what? Pillowcases?"
Qian Baosheng, the syphilitic apothecary, poured another cup of wine, his ruined face twisting into a confident sneer. "Not pillowcases, Young Master. Art. Little Cabbage is known for her needlework. The wealthy families of Cangqian pay her handsomely to embroider their wedding quilts and festival banners. It is her pride. It is her only connection to the world of beauty."
He leaned forward, tapping his long, yellow fingernail on the table.
"I will introduce you as a wealthy scholar from Hangzhou. A man of refined taste who is preparing for a family celebration—a wedding, perhaps, or a mother's birthday. You need the finest embroidery money can buy. You need a personal consultation."
Zihe's eyes lit up. "It is a legitimate reason to enter the house."
"Precisely. It is daylight. It is business. The neighbors can say nothing. The husband—the Dwarf—will see only a customer. And once you are inside... well, the rest is up to your charm. And your gold."
Zihe stood up and paced the room. "And if she refuses?"
"She cannot refuse," Baosheng said softly. "She needs the money. The Dwarf brings home pennies. You will bring a fortune. You will offer a price so high it will make her dizzy. You will pay in gold, Young Master. Gold speaks a language that even the most virtuous woman understands."
Zihe laughed, clapping his hands. "Gold! Yes! I have plenty of that."
"Good," Baosheng said. "Prepare yourself. Make yourself look like a man of substance, not a fop. Wear your best jade. Let her see that you are not just a wallet, but a prince."
Zihe rushed to his trunk, pulling out robes and accessories. He chose a gown of moon-white autumn silk, layered with a vest of black gauze. On his thumb, he placed a heavy ring of imperial jade; around his neck, a string of fragrant nanmu beads with a pendant of glass-green jade.
"Perfect," Baosheng approved. "Now, the gold."
Zihe reached into his stash and pulled out five boat-shaped ingots of pure gold. He weighed them in his hand. "Is this enough?"
"More than enough to buy a dozen embroideries," Baosheng chuckled. "But we are not buying embroidery, are we?"
They walked through the sweltering streets to Peace Alley. The heat was oppressive, but Zihe felt cold with anticipation.
Number Five stood silent and grim, its peeling whitewash like a scab on the alley wall. Baosheng stepped up and knocked—three sharp raps.
"Someone is coming!" a harsh voice shouted from inside. "Is that you, Brother?"
The door creaked open, revealing the hulking form of Third Girl. She blinked at them, her mouth hanging slightly open.
"Baosheng?" she grunted. "What do you want?"
Baosheng bowed, his voice dripping with false courtesy. "Sister Third, is your sister-in-law at home? I have brought a distinguished guest. A Young Master from the city who wishes to commission her work."
Third Girl's eyes widened at the sight of Zihe. She had never seen such fine clothes in Peace Alley.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron. "Little Cabbage! Baosheng is here! He brought a pretty man!"
She turned and lumbered back into the house, shouting. Baosheng and Zihe followed her into the small, dark courtyard.
Little Cabbage was sitting in the main room, bent over a frame of embroidery. When she heard the commotion, she stood up, smoothing her simple white tunic.
She looked even more beautiful than she had in the doorway. The starkness of the room only emphasized her radiance. Her skin was luminous in the dim light; her eyes, large and dark, held a flicker of surprise as they landed on the two men.
She recognized Zihe immediately. The man from the teahouse. The man who had stared at her with such naked hunger.
But she was a professional. She composed her face into a mask of polite indifference.
"Mr. Qian," she said, her voice cool and melodious. "Please, sit down."
She poured two cups of weak tea and placed them on the table. She did not look at Zihe.
"This gentleman," Baosheng began, gesturing grandly, "is Young Master Liu from the city. He is preparing for a great family celebration and requires the finest needlework. I told him there is no one in Yuhang who can match your skill."
Little Cabbage bowed her head slightly. "You flatter me, Mr. Qian. What does the Young Master require?"
Baosheng nudged Zihe under the table.
Zihe cleared his throat. He felt suddenly tongue-tied. The reality of her beauty was overwhelming up close.
"I... I need bed curtains," Zihe stammered, trying to sound authoritative. "For a wedding. And pillow covers. Embroidered with... mandarin ducks. And lotus flowers."
"Mandarin ducks," Little Cabbage repeated, her face impassive. "A common motif. How many sets?"
"Ten," Baosheng interjected. "Ten sets. Of the finest silk."
Little Cabbage raised an eyebrow. "Ten sets? That will take months. And the materials alone..."
"The materials are no concern," Zihe said, finding his voice. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out two of the gold ingots.
He placed them on the table. They landed with a heavy, dull thud.
Little Cabbage stared at the gold. In the gloom of the room, the metal seemed to glow with its own inner light. Two ingots. It was an obscene amount of money. Enough to buy the house she lived in. Enough to buy her freedom ten times over.
"This is for the materials," Zihe said, his voice trembling slightly. "If it is not enough, I have more."
Little Cabbage looked up at him. For the first time, her mask slipped. Confusion warred with suspicion in her eyes.
"Young Master," she said softly, "this is gold. A few taels of silver would suffice for materials. This is... too much."
"I do not carry silver," Zihe said, lifting his chin. "It drags down the spirit. Consider the excess a deposit on your labor."
Baosheng stood up quickly. He sensed the tension. He knew that if they stayed too long, the spell might break. Or worse, she might refuse.
"Please, Sister-in-law, accept it," Baosheng urged. "The Young Master is generous. We will return in a few days to discuss the patterns. Come, Young Master."
He grabbed Zihe's arm and practically dragged him out of the chair.
"But..." Zihe protested.
"We have business!" Baosheng insisted, steering him toward the door. "Good day, Sister-in-law!"
They hurried out of the courtyard, leaving Little Cabbage standing alone in the dim room, the two gold ingots gleaming on the table like the eyes of a tiger.
Outside, Zihe pulled his arm free. "Why did we leave? I wanted to stay! I wanted to talk to her!"
"You fool," Baosheng hissed, pulling him down the alley. "If we stayed, she would have returned the money. She is proud. But now? Now the gold is in her house. She has touched it. She has kept it. The hook is set."
Zihe stopped, looking back at the closed door of Number Five. "She looked... frightened."
"She looked tempted," Baosheng corrected. "Now, we wait. Let the gold do its work. Let her wonder. Let her dream of what that money can buy."
Back in the house, Little Cabbage stared at the ingots.
Third Girl hovered over the table, her eyes wide. "Pretty rocks," she giggled. "Can we eat them?"
Little Cabbage didn't answer. Her heart was pounding. Why would a stranger give her this much money? Was he mad? Or was he... dangerous?
She picked up one of the ingots. It was heavy. Cold.
She thought of the debts. She thought of the leaky roof. She thought of Pinlian's constant complaints about money.
I should return it, she thought. I should run after them and throw it at his feet.
But she didn't. She opened her sewing box and tucked the gold deep inside, under a pile of colored threads.
She told herself it was just a deposit. She told herself she would do the work. She told herself it was business.
But deep down, she knew it was a bribe. And by keeping it, she had just sold a piece of her soul.
That night, Zihe and Baosheng celebrated in the pharmacy. They drank wine and plotted the next move.
"You have done well, Baosheng," Zihe slurred, raising his cup. "If this works... if I get her... I will invest in your shop. I will give you a thousand taels."
Baosheng's eyes glittered. A thousand taels. It was enough to rebuild his nose. Enough to buy respect.
"You are too kind, Young Master," he bowed.
But as they celebrated, a shadow moved in the alley below.
Liu Zihan, the thief, had been watching. He had seen them enter the Ge house. He had seen them leave. And he knew about the gold.
He smiled in the darkness. He had the love letter. Now, he had knowledge of the gold.
He realized that the game was about to get much more interesting. He didn't just want hush money from Baosheng anymore. He wanted a piece of the gold.
And he knew exactly how to get it.
He would visit the Dwarf.
The next morning, Ge Pinlian returned from the tofu shop, exhausted and dusty. He walked into the house, expecting his tea.
Instead, he found Little Cabbage sitting at the table, pale and silent.
"What is it?" he grunted.
She hesitated. Should she tell him? If she showed him the gold, he would be ecstatic. But he might also ask questions. Questions she couldn't answer.
"Nothing," she whispered.
But secrets in a small house are like rot in fruit—they spread.
That afternoon, while Pinlian was sleeping, a knock came at the door.
Pinlian woke up, grumbling. He opened the door to find a stranger standing there—a man in a straw hat, with a sly, knowing smile.
"Who are you?" Pinlian asked.
"A friend," Liu Zihan said. "I have something to tell you about your wife. And the gold she is hiding in her sewing box."
Pinlian froze. "Gold?"
"Two ingots," Zihan whispered. "From a young master in silk. Ask her where she got it. Ask her what she promised in return."
Pinlian turned and looked at his wife, who was standing in the shadows of the kitchen, her face drained of blood.
The trap had snapped shut. But it wasn't the trap Zihe had planned.
To see the confrontation, read the next chapter.