The Red Lantern House had always revolved around Madam. She was the sun—controlling schedules, patrons, and profits—while the courtesans circled her like stars, shining only when permitted.
But after the poisoned tea incident, the orbit began to shift.
Whispers of Lan Hua's cleverness spread faster than wildfire. In tea shops and scholar halls, nobles repeated her words as though they were lines of scripture: "Wine clouds the mind; I prefer to remain clear." Scholars called her a sage in silk. Merchants praised her "discipline." Ministers admired her "foresight."
And within the courtesan chambers, something more dangerous was happening.
The younger courtesans who once watched her with envy now began to linger at her side. They asked for advice on dress, on poetry, on handling difficult patrons. They listened when she spoke, eyes wide, as if she held the key to survival.
"Miss Lan Hua, what do you say if a nobleman insists on a song, but you only know poetry?" one girl whispered shyly.
Lan Hua smiled faintly. "Give him a verse about music. It flatters him, and he won't notice the difference."
The girl gasped at the simplicity of it, bowing in thanks.
Others quickly followed. "Miss Lan Hua, how do you keep the nobles from quarreling over you?"
"Miss Lan Hua, how do you make Madam favor you so?"
Lan Hua answered calmly, never showing irritation. Each response was measured, precise—lessons drawn from boardrooms where she once commanded men twice her age.
Inside, she noted their eagerness with cold clarity. Competition has turned to dependence. They will see me not as rival, but as leader.
---
Madam noticed too.
She sat in her office one evening, reviewing the accounts with her abacus, but her eyes kept drifting to the courtyard below. From her window, she could see Lan Hua seated with three courtesans, teaching them how to hold their fans for maximum effect during conversation. They hung on her every word.
A muscle twitched in Madam's jaw.
Lan Hua was profitable—more than Yue Niang ever had been. In just a week, patrons had doubled, donations tripled, and new requests for marriage arrangements piled up like snowdrifts. Madam could not deny the wealth flowing in, nor the prestige.
But profit was not the same as power.
If the girls shifted their loyalty from her to Lan Hua, the balance would break.
The thought curdled in her stomach. She tapped her abacus hard enough to snap a bead loose.
"She's dangerous," Madam muttered to herself.
And yet, when she faced the ledgers, she couldn't bring herself to rein Lan Hua in. Every coin in the account book whispered otherwise.
Dangerous, yes. But also indispensable.
---
That night, during the performance, the shift was undeniable.
When Lan Hua entered the hall, the patrons rose to their feet without realizing it. Conversations quieted, cups froze halfway to lips. Even Yue Niang, dazzling in emerald silk, could not compete with the way the room bent itself toward Lan Hua's presence.
Lan Hua bowed gracefully, sleeves trailing, her smile serene. She moved like water, sat like a queen. When she recited a verse, the hall hummed with reverent silence.
And as the nobles laughed and applauded, Lan Hua cast a glance at the other courtesans. They were watching her—not with envy this time, but with quiet awe.
The center of gravity has shifted, she thought. And no one dares deny it.
---
Later, in her chamber, the girls came again. They brought her small gifts: a carved comb, a sachet of jasmine, a pair of embroidered slippers. Tokens of loyalty, tokens of gratitude.
"Please, Sister Lan Hua, guide us," one whispered. "We're tired of being pushed aside."
Lan Hua accepted the gifts with a gracious nod, though inside, her CEO brain tallied the moment like a profit line. This is not friendship. This is recruitment.
For the first time, she allowed herself to imagine something larger.
Not just survival. Not just outsmarting rivals.
But building.
If Madam holds the keys to this house, then I will create a new set of keys. One that only I can use. One that binds these women to me, not to her.
She looked at the courtesans gathered before her, their faces lit by lamplight, and smiled a smile that promised safety and power.
"Don't worry," she said softly. "As long as you stand with me, no one will push you aside again."
The women gasped, relief and hope flooding their eyes.
Lan Hua leaned back, hiding her satisfaction.
Step by step, her empire was forming.
---
Meanwhile, Madam paced her office in the dark, fan snapping open and shut in agitation.
Lan Hua was making the house rich, yes. But the courtesans' laughter in the courtyard tonight had not been directed at Madam. It had been directed at her.
And Madam knew well enough from her decades in this world: money made one powerful, but loyalty made one unstoppable.
And Lan Hua was beginning to command both.
---