Chapter 35: The Man in Brocade

Without waiting for the head attendant to speak, Zhao Erdong stood up with a sudden flourish and slammed her money pouch onto the table. "I came to your establishment to patronize your business, only to be met with endless obstruction and slights. You claim a minimum spend of one hundred gold pieces; I did not complain about the price, yet you still refuse to serve me. I hope the head manager can provide an explanation and clarify the rules of your Immortal Guest House. That way, I can inform my friends and family in every household so they know the rules in advance and do not have to endure such humiliation as I have today."

The head manager immediately grasped the situation. He surmised that Sang Ju must have taken a dislike to the young lady’s simple attire and intentionally slighted her, inciting her anger. He cast a casual glance at the money pouch, noting it held at least several hundred gold pieces, and seven-tenths of his initial disdain for the young lady vanished instantly.

"My lady, you have misunderstood Sang Ju’s intentions. This private booth was reserved by a distinguished guest, and seeing that the guest was about to arrive, Sang Ju was merely anxious and inadvertently slighted you. I hope you will forgive us. Our establishment has many other private booths; please, allow us to show you to another," the head manager explained with a smile. There was a hint of apology in his tone, but Zhao Erdong had no intention of granting him that favor.

"I find this place quite satisfactory and have no desire to move," Zhao Erdong replied, leaning back in her chair with a smug expression. She looked up at Sang Ju, whose face was cycling between shades of green and white. "Well? What are you standing there for? Go pour the tea!"

Sang Ju bit her red lip in resentment, shot a dark, sidelong glare at Zhao Erdong, and turned toward the tea station.

"How lively! Have I missed something?" With the chiming of pearl curtains, a man in magnificent robes entered the booth, flanked by two scantily clad women.

Wearing a white jade crown, a brocade robe embroidered with dark gold dragons, a warm jade belt at his waist, and cloud-patterned silk boots, he was dressed far beyond the status of an ordinary wealthy young master. His peach-blossom eyes held a faint, enigmatic smile, and his thin lips were curled into a perfectly measured arc.

Watching his arrival, a shadow crossed Sang Ju’s beautiful eyes. She hurried forward, curtsied to the man, and said, "This servant greets the Seventeenth Prince." She lifted her face, casting a flirtatious, liquid-eyed gaze at the man in brocade. "Seventeenth Prince, I have sinned."

The peach-blossom eyes swept over her with indifference. "And what is your sin?"

A look of grievance washed over Sang Ju’s lovely face, and tears welled up in her eyes, making her look exceptionally pitiful. "Seventeenth Prince, I had prepared this booth and was waiting for your arrival, but who would have thought..." She glanced toward Zhao Erdong, a flash of triumph crossing her face. "Who would have thought that this young lady would burst in without rhyme or reason? Despite my best efforts to explain that this booth was reserved for you, not only did she refuse to leave, but she also spoke wildly, showing not the slightest respect for your status, and even..."

The Seventeenth Prince followed her gaze. His eyes flickered, and the arc of his smile deepened. It was her?

"And even what?" The Seventeenth Prince looked at Sang Ju. He had seen enough of women’s schemes. Did she want to use him as a blade to strike at another? She had better see if she was worthy of wielding such a blade; otherwise, she might find the weapon turning against her instead.

Sang Ju, completely oblivious to the change in his expression, assumed he was taking her words to heart.

"She even insulted this servant..." Having said this, she pulled a silk handkerchief from her sleeve and covered her face, her shoulders trembling as she let out a soft sob—a perfect, storm-battered white lotus.

Zhao Erdong watched the man in brocade, feeling a strange sense of familiarity that she could not quite place. Could it be that the original Zhao Erdong had known this person?