That day, the Grand General left with a face ashen with rage.

After Zheng Qi departed, Xilin Chuan returned to his inner chamber. Hongyi stood dazed in the outer hall and faintly saw him collapse into bed and fall asleep.

“He sure can sleep easy,” she muttered, and without lingering, she too left his residence and returned to her room.

Lüxiu had apparently woken up at some point. When Hongyi stepped into the room, she found the girl pacing back and forth, her footsteps quick and erratic, as if something urgent had happened.

“…What’s wrong?” Hongyi asked, momentarily stunned as she pushed open the door.

Lüxiu snapped out of it and hurried over. “You’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” Hongyi chuckled, shutting the door behind her. “The Grand General came over about last night’s banquet. The young master dealt with it.”

She refrained from saying “angered him into leaving.” Sitting down at the bedside with Lüxiu, curiosity gnawed at her again. “What’s this business about the young master being an ‘illegitimate son’?”

She had always heard that Xilin Chuan held noble status—nephew to both the Empress and the Grand General. This sudden rumor of illegitimacy struck quite the contrast.

“The young master established his own household at the age of fourteen. Ever wonder why?” Lüxiu whispered, lowering her voice like all gossiping girls did when sharing secrets. “Word is, back in the day before the Empress entered the palace and the Grand General enlisted, the three of them—Xilin Chuan’s mother included—were all servants in the Princess Mingyan’s estate. His mother had an affair with a low-ranking clerk and got pregnant. The man denied her, and the young master was born without a name, raised solely by his mother. Later, as the Zheng family rose to power, his mother married into the Chen family, and the young master lived with them for a time before eventually moving to Changyang on his own.”

Hongyi was stunned. So even the Empress, the Grand General, and Xilin Chuan’s mother had all come from servile backgrounds?

That made it all the more despicable how Xilin Chuan looked down on her as a mere dancing girl—as if he’d forgotten his own bloodline.

“Hongyi-jie!” A sleepy voice called from outside.

Hongyi rolled her eyes. Silk Ribbon again.

Sure enough, she opened the door to find Silk Ribbon standing there with a pitiful face. “I can’t sleep…”

Clearly, insomnia had plagued humanity for centuries.

Without another word, Hongyi fetched a porcelain bottle and poured out two small pills. She’d persuaded the apothecary to prepare a mild sedative—not ideal for long-term use, but it helped when her old allergic rash kept her up all night.

She rarely took the medicine herself. Silk Ribbon, however, had been freeloading it almost daily—eight nights out of ten. The bottle was nearly empty, and she hadn’t even used a quarter of it.

“Go get some more at the clinic tomorrow,” Hongyi sighed. “Take Thread Song with you—she sprained her arm the other day and keeps putting off seeing a doctor.”

“Sure!” Silk Ribbon beamed and popped the pills into her mouth, heading inside to get water. She turned back and gave Hongyi a grateful bow. “Thanks, jiejie!”

At the break of dawn, when the light was still faint behind the window paper, a scream pierced the air.

“I’m not going! Let me sleep a bit longer!” Thread Song protested. “Can’t we go in the afternoon? It’s just sleep medicine, what’s the rush…”

“I have dance practice this afternoon!” Silk Ribbon’s voice was full of complaint, soft and pleading. “I’m not as gifted as you, jiejie. Your lovely voice doesn’t need training… Please come with me, I barely have any free time…”

The pleading and squabbling went on for a good fifteen minutes. At first, Hongyi and Lüxiu grumbled sleepily in their beds. But eventually, both were stifling giggles under the covers.

After a flurry of footsteps, the courtyard fell silent. It seemed Silk Ribbon had succeeded in dragging Thread Song out.

The rest of the day proceeded as usual.

Hongyi resumed her life as a dance performer. After breakfast, everyone had a short break. Some did needlework—like Lüxiu, who got side work from Uncle Qi. Hongyi, meanwhile, sat with a brush in hand, sketching out her teaching plan for the family girls’ dance lessons later.

But by midday, there was still no sign of Silk Ribbon or Thread Song.

A nagging unease stirred in Hongyi. She glanced around at the others calmly eating, nudged Lüxiu with her elbow, and whispered, “Why aren’t they back yet?”

Lüxiu looked up but didn’t seem too worried. “Maybe the clinic’s crowded.”

But it had been the whole morning already…

Just as Hongyi was about to speak again, Lady Yu—seated at the head—coughed softly.

Meal etiquette was strict. No idle chatter was allowed.

So Hongyi fell silent and finished her food quietly.

Afterward, others went to stroll or nap. Hongyi, as usual, prepared a small pouch of coins and headed out—she visited the children every afternoon and always returned before dusk.

“I’ll come with you tonight,” Lüxiu said, yawning. “Tell Yan’er I’m bringing her favorite rice cakes.”

“Okay,” Hongyi replied and left the estate.

The path wound gently through layered courtyards. Hongyi walked slowly, treating it as post-meal exercise.

The gatekeeper already knew her routine and opened the gate with a friendly smile.

The sunlight was beautiful today—and to Hongyi, the sun always shone brighter outside the estate. Even the air felt fresher. She took a deep breath, smiling as she turned west.

Each ward of the city housed many estates, the alleyways connecting them in a neat grid.

At the first intersection, she turned left—and instantly saw someone stumbling toward her. She stepped aside just in time to avoid a collision.

Only after the girl rushed past did Hongyi get a good look—and froze.

Silk Ribbon?!

Something must’ve happened.

Without hesitating, Hongyi gave chase.

No matter how many times she called out, Silk Ribbon didn’t respond—just kept running like she didn’t hear.

By the time they returned to the music quarter, the place was abuzz. A crowd of girls gathered in the courtyard, whispering frantically.

“Where’s Silk Ribbon?!” Hongyi asked Lüxiu urgently.

“She went into the music director’s room,” Lüxiu replied, frowning. “Locked herself in with her. No one knows what’s going on.”

Could it be—Thread Song got hurt?

But surely not. Hongyi had visited that clinic many times. It might look small, but it was clean and reputable. The physicians were kind and professional.

Moments later, a maid exited Lady Yu’s quarters and left the music hall.

Then—two guards entered… escorting Thread Song.

The courtyard collectively gasped.

Even Hongyi, a modern woman who considered herself worldly, felt a cold jolt in her chest.

Thread Song was half-dragged in by the guards, who looked tense as if carrying dead weight.

She made no effort to walk herself, her eyes vacant, allowing them to move her as they pleased.

Her hair, usually immaculate, was in disarray. A single hairpin hung askew in the strands like her spirit—barely holding on.

A light cloak was draped over her. Beneath it, they could see her gripping her chest tightly. Her steps were unsteady, and the cloak kept parting enough to reveal—

Her robe beneath was gaping open. Her collarbone was nearly exposed.

Everyone stared in stunned silence.

“Thread Song, she… she…” One of the girls, Lingqin, stammered. “Could she have been… assaulted?”

The unspoken thought passed through them all.

She had been violated.

Uncle Qi arrived swiftly. Hearing that Thread Song was in Lady Yu’s room and not properly dressed, he didn’t go inside.

Instead, he sent someone to fetch Lady Yu, who hurried to meet him in the front courtyard.

“Uncle Qi,” she greeted with a strained expression.

“What happened?” he asked.

Lady Yu shook her head. “We don’t know. Thread Song won’t speak. Silk Ribbon’s scared out of her wits—could barely form a sentence.”

Uncle Qi furrowed his brow and let out a heavy sigh.

“But from what Silk Ribbon said…” Lady Yu’s eyes lowered, voice hardening, “Even though the alley was remote, Thread Song screamed for help. There were witnesses. Some might’ve realized they were…”

“Singers and dancers…” Uncle Qi finished with another sigh.

Hongyi felt her heart sink.

For any girl, this kind of misfortune ranked among the worst—maybe the very worst.

Even in modern times, it was unbearable for many. And this was the past, where views were far more conservative…

Before she could think further, Uncle Qi suddenly said:

“Go to Pingkang Ward. Find her a place.”

Hongyi froze.

Lady Yu accepted it without question. “Yes. I’ll also send someone to examine Silk Ribbon.”

Uncle Qi nodded.

But Hongyi could barely breathe.

Pingkang Ward… that was—

The red-light district.