The house was quiet at last. The laughter of patrons had faded, the fragrance of wine clung faintly in the air, and only the creak of lanterns remained as the night wind moved through the courtyard.
In her chamber, Lan Hua sat before the low desk, brush still in hand, though she had long stopped writing. Her gaze lingered on the small lacquered box where the sealed contracts lay—ink dried, wax hardened, proof of her first true victory.
She touched the lid lightly, a smile curving her lips.
Marriage is no different from mergers, she thought. The same calculations. The same negotiations. Only the stage has changed—from glass towers to painted halls, from stockholders to courtesans. The rules remain the same.
She rose and crossed to the window. The moonlight washed over her crimson robes, casting long shadows across the floor. Below, she could still see Ping'er, Rui Yun, and Mei Xiu walking back to their quarters, silver clinking in their purses, pride in their steps for the first time in years.
Lan Hua's smile deepened.
Tonight, I didn't just secure matches. I secured loyalty. And loyalty is worth more than silver.
She thought back to the boardrooms of her old life, the way she had courted investors with charm and contracts, binding them not only with profit but with belief. She had lost everything once—betrayed, destroyed, cast down.
But here, in this strange new life, she had found the tools again. Different names, different ink, but the same power.
She pressed a hand against the window frame, her reflection in the glass lit by moonlight. This house will be my empire. These courtesans, my partners. And soon, even the nobles will bow their heads when they speak of the Peony Matchmaker.
*****
A knock at the gate broke the stillness.
Lan Hua frowned, her instincts pricking. At this hour, no patron should arrive, no servant should be awake. She slipped on her outer robe and moved quietly down the corridor, her steps soundless against the wooden floor.
From the shadows near the main hall, she saw Madam answering the gate herself, fan tucked against her chest like a blade. A cloaked figure stood outside, face hidden beneath the hood, posture stiff with authority.
The air shifted—different from drunken nobles or gossiping wives. He moved with confidence, as though he belonged to another world entirely.
The figure handed Madam a folded letter sealed with black wax. No words were exchanged. With a brief bow, he turned and vanished into the night as swiftly as he had come.
Madam held the letter for a long moment before retreating inside. Her fan trembled faintly in her hand.
Lan Hua remained in the shadows, eyes narrowing. So… already, the outside world begins to watch.
She didn't need to see the letter to know its weight. Whoever sent it was powerful enough to send a messenger cloaked in the night, powerful enough that Madam herself opened the gate.
Her fingers tightened around her sleeve.
My moves have drawn eyes. Not just from rivals in this house, but from beyond.
She turned back to her chamber, mind racing. The courtesans thought her contracts clever, the nobles thought her amusing, and Madam thought her profitable. But someone out there—someone beyond these painted walls—saw her as more.
And in her bones, Lan Hua knew: this was no ordinary noble. This was a player of the grander game.
She sat again at her desk, dipping her brush into ink. With slow strokes, she wrote a single line across fresh parchment:
"Power notices power."
The ink glistened in the candlelight, the words bold, a promise and a warning both.
Lan Hua leaned back, closing her eyes for a brief moment. If I am to rise, I must be ready for them. Allies. Enemies. Princes.
Her lips curved, sharp and certain.
Let them come. I have lost once in one world. I will not lose again in this one.
The candle flickered, casting her reflection in the lacquered box like a crown of ink and wax. Outside, the wind carried the faint sound of distant drums from the palace.
Tonight, in the quiet hum of shadows and whispers, the first thread of fate had already been drawn.