There's very little fine salt here. If we could refine it more the way you do, we might be able to get a good price for it and start a salt trade business. The servant, Vanka, leaned closer to the Fourth Prince, Jace, gently fanning him as he whispered into his ear.
"That's a good idea," Jace replied, stretching lazily as he sat up after his midday rest. It didn’t take long for him to notice that, aside from a bed and a table, the room was utterly devoid of entertainment—no internet, no phones.
"This is going to be boring," Jace muttered, his gaze wandering around the room in search of something—anything—interesting.
Vanka, standing beside him, let a sly grin curl his lips. His eyes darted about before he suggested, "If you're bored, Your Highness, you could visit the Hundred Flowers Pavilion."
"The Hundred Flowers Pavilion? What's that? A place with lots of flowers?" Jace asked, puzzled.
"Not exactly. It's a place filled with women as beautiful as flowers. I've heard there's a stunning beauty there, unmatched in her dancing skills," Vanka replied, his grin widening as his thoughts wandered to one of the women in particular.
Jace quickly pulled on his boots from under the bed. "Take me there," he commanded. With that, Vanka led the way, and they rode off in a carriage.
After a short ride, they arrived at a grand and opulent pavilion on an island. Jace stepped out of the carriage, and a group of eager servants rushed to his side. They squatted down to offer their backs as stepping stools and produced pristine white cloths to wipe his boots.
“Your Highness, you'll need to tip them,” Vanka whispered into Jace's ear, covering his mouth with one hand.
“Tip them? What money do we have for that?” Jace lifted his boot slightly, nudging away the shoe polishers. Upon hearing this, the once-enthusiastic servants straightened up, their faces now cold and expressionless, as if they were mere statues.
As they walked inside, they passed long tables laden with exquisite glassware and the freshest fruits of the season. Luxurious roses adorned the corners, creating an atmosphere that was both sensual and enchanting. Jace strolled through, taking in the sights, as though he had stepped into paradise. In the central area, he gazed up at the magnificent ceiling, and suddenly, a woman caught his eye. She sat elegantly on the second floor, her face partially obscured by a veil.
One hand lightly caressed her long hair—her fingers were slender and pale, moving with grace and subtlety. As the veil fluttered gently in the breeze, it revealed her delicate features, bathed in the interplay of light and shadow. She exuded an ethereal beauty that was impossible to ignore.
“That’s the Flower Fairy, the most beautiful woman in the house,” Vanka murmured, his eyes fixed on her, mouth agape as if he were about to drool. Tonight, every gaze in the room was locked on her.
The mysterious allure of the veiled beauty, combined with her graceful posture, captivated everyone present. Her mere presence elevated the atmosphere of the gathering, making it feel like a scene out of a dream.
"Tonight is a special night," Vanka explained. "The place is buzzing with excitement. There's an annual poetry competition happening here. Scholars and poets from all over have gathered to compete, and the winner gets to spend the night with that beauty upstairs."
"Then I’ll give it a try," Jace said, squeezing through the crowd to grab a contestant’s number. His eyes darted toward the upper floor every so often.
"Well, well, well, who do we have here? Let me take a look." Semon strode forward confidently, and the crowd parted for him, standing respectfully on either side.
"Why is it always you?" Jace muttered under his breath.
Semon drew closer, deliberately bumping Jace's shoulder in a mocking challenge. "Oh, it’s my useless brother. Do you even know what today is? This is a poetry contest. Everyone here will have to compose a poem. Do you, who can't read a single word, dare to compete? Aren’t you afraid of making a fool of yourself?"
Jace raised an eyebrow, secretly pleased. A poetry contest? That's my specialty. I’ve memorized hundreds of ancient poems since childhood. Do you really think you can beat a modern man like me?
Jace looked at Semon confidently and said, "Let’s make it interesting, then. But a contest needs a wager. The loser will have to crawl on all fours like a dog and bark."
Comments (0)
See all