The table was lavishly spread with wine and delicacies. The greeter girl, now playing the role of wine companion, perched gracefully on Young Master Qin's lap, pouring him drinks and serving food. Though Qin Ren's mouth was busy chewing, his hands certainly weren't idle—roaming freely over the girl's body in clumsy exploration, drawing a string of giggles from her cherry lips.
"Young Master, is this your first time?" she teased, gently brushing aside his hand as it reached her lower belly.
A rare blush colored Qin Ren's face, but with his lifelong ambition of becoming the ultimate flower-thief, his skin was thicker than leather. With thirty-eight years of experience across two lifetimes, he had long become a master of navigating social situations. If not for her hitting his most shameful nerve, he wouldn't have blushed at all.
With his left arm wrapped around her waist and his right hand massaging her not-so-small breasts, Qin Ren coughed dryly and changed the subject: "So, when does this auction start? Making people wait like this isn't very courteous, is it?"
The girl giggled again, fed him a sip of wine with her lips, and swirled her tongue in his mouth. The tease sent a jolt of desire through him, swelling below the waist. If he wasn't so eager to lay eyes on this famed Xiangyue girl, he might've just ravished this little greeter on the spot.
"Soon, Young Master. Don't be in such a rush. With a humble maid like me here to serve you food and wine, you should simply enjoy yourself."
Even now, Qin Ren hadn't asked her name. In places like this, names didn't matter. It was about a night of indulgence. After a romp and a coin, you pull up your pants and laugh your way out the door. What use was knowing a name?
The Third Young Master only picked flowers from proper households. Coming to a brothel like this was just… field training.
After feasting for a while, a sudden gong struck. Flutes and pipes sounded in unison. The crimson curtain on stage slowly began to part. The noisy hall fell silent in an instant as every eye turned to the platform.
Qin Ren was no exception. With one arm still draped around the girl's neck and a goose foot in his mouth, he squinted at the stage.
Two rows of dazzling girls now stood on stage, each with flawless figures and exquisite faces. They bowed deeply in unison, then stepped aside, revealing a red door embedded in the pale pink backdrop.
The red door creaked open, and out came two more rows of girls, each holding a basket brimming with flower petals. As they walked, petals rained down in fluttering spirals, filling the hall with sweet fragrance.
Amid them walked a young girl clad in yellow top and green skirt, long hair cascading down to her waist, surrounded like the moon among stars. The petal-bearing girls moved to flank the stage.
The girl in yellow kept her head down, concealing her face. Qin Ren, sensing she was the night's centerpiece, gave a sharp whistle and shouted: "Lift your head, girl! Let this Young Master get a good look at you!"
His voice was loud—loud enough to cut through the music and catch everyone's attention. Many guests looked up, displeased. But these were men of wealth and status; they scoffed at making a scene and soon looked away.
The girl in yellow finally lifted her head as she reached center stage—only to reveal a pure white veil covering her face, leaving only a pair of brilliant eyes exposed.
Cries erupted from the floor: "Take off the veil! How can we bid if we can't see?"
A glamorous middle-aged madam stepped onto the stage and said with a smile, "Lady Xiangyue is just fifteen, not yet presented in public. She is shy and avoids unfamiliar eyes. If you wish to see her full face and become her first guest, you'll have to prove your sincerity… with silver. The starting bid is fifty thousand taels. Let the bidding begin."
Qin Ren narrowed his eyes. Though her veil hid her features, those eyes—bright beneath soft brows—were enchanting, filled with innocence and naïveté. His heart itched, like a cat scratching inside his chest.
"Damn it," he cursed. "Can't even see her face—how do you expect us to bid? What if I pay a fortune, and when she lifts the veil, she's covered in pockmarks? I'd rather pick up a street girl—at least that's an honest transaction!"
His voice sparked a chorus of agreement. The crowd grew restless, many shouting that the veil should be removed.
The madam only smiled. "If the guest who wins her tonight finds her unsatisfactory in the bridal chamber, we will refund twice the full price—based on the highest value in the hall."
Her words only stoked the curiosity further. Even Qin Ren was now thoroughly intrigued.
"Well now," he thought gleefully, "such confidence! Fine, I'll bid sky-high, enjoy her tonight, and claim she's not worth it—get double the silver back. A win-win!"
Of course, he wasn't the only one with that plan.
He leaned back, letting the others bid first.
"Seventy thousand taels!""Hundred thousand taels!"
The bids surged, rising quickly to three hundred thousand.
The man who shouted the highest bid was an old fellow with snow-white hair and beard, flanked by four intimidating bodyguards.
The madam declared loudly, "Lord Bu Ou of the Bu Clan in Jiangnan has bid three hundred thousand! Does anyone offer more?"
A hush fell over the room.
Qin Ren sipped wine, gnawing on a piece of duck, and sighed: "Three hundred thousand? Just one hundred taels could feed a family of three for a year. This is decadence! Three hundred thousand just to bed a girl you haven't even seen? That old man's lost his mind…"
His voice, calm yet scathing, echoed through the hall. And with that, he instantly became the center of attention.
The Bu Clan of Jiangnan—now that was a name. And "Demon Bu Ou"? His nickname wasn't for nothing.
Most eyes now turned toward the second-floor booth, eager to see what kind of suicidal fool dared mock Bu Ou to his face.
The old man's four guards glared daggers at Qin Ren. If looks could kill, he'd have been minced already. But without Bu Ou's word, they stayed still.
And Bu Ou? He was furious, holding back his rage. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, that cocky youth upstairs lazily said:
"Besides, look at the guy—must be seventy if he's a day. If he's got erectile dysfunction, what's the point in winning the top courtesan? Hell, he might drop dead before even getting it in! Out of the goodness of my heart, I'll save him the trouble. I bid five hundred thousand taels—to die under the peony like a real man!"
With a thunderous crack, Bu Ou slammed his palm on the red sandalwood table in front of him, shattering it into dust with sheer force.
His furious voice boomed: "Four Heavenly Kings—bring me that insolent brat! I want him skinned alive!"