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It was easy to want what you couldn't have. Ever since her father had told her that she was destined for the royal harem, Jian Lan had been confident she'd make it to the rank of consort. But she'd also known that, in the meantime, she'd be having a passionate love affair with some unsuitable man around the palace.
She still remembered her one meeting with the prince: his robes white as clouds, his eyes drifting to the wall hangings, plates of sweet tofu not quite as good as her family chef's... the only bit of satisfaction she had gotten from the whole thing was making the bodyguard at the door flinch as she passed, and the way his throat had worked as he quickly looked away. She'd heard that the young Lord Feng was scared of women. He hadn't exactly been handsome with his heavy brow and large face, but not ugly either, and the vulnerability was cute; having an affair with him would have been just perfect.
It was funny how things had come full circle. She would've gotten into a fistfight for some sweet tofu now, but Feng Xin still flinched when she came to greet him at the door to her private room, and he was still at the heart of her escape fantasies.
--
One of the other girls, Peng Li, had opened the door to their dressing room one evening as she was putting on her face. "A man asked for you. Want to go see?"
"Who? I'll be ready in a few minutes." A repeat client was usually a good thing. She braced her elbow on the dressing-table to dot the red huadian on her cheeks.
"No clue. He came in asking for the angry one. Someone said he's a busker... anyway, now he's fighting the guards out front."
She shot to her feet. "That man dares show his face here again? He nearly shot me doing his tricks! He owes us money!"
They rushed together to one of the windows at the front of the brothel.
"He did bring some money," Peng Li explained. "But he kept saying he wasn't a customer and just wanted to talk, so the madam had him thrown out. Look at him go!" They all relished whenever something bad happened to the guards, who were responsible for preventing escapes as well as throwing out unruly clients.
The busker seemed just as good at fighting with his fists as he had with the bow, fending off the two guardsmen at the entrance and even knocking their swords out of their hands, making them back away and flee. As Jian Lan watched, she thought he seemed more and more familiar.
Boots thudded against the ground as more guards came running from the back of the establishment. Impulsively Jian Lan stuck her head out into the cool evening air.
"Lord Feng!" she hissed. The man—so it was indeed Feng Xin—stared at her, face screwed up and mouth hanging open. "Come in the window at the back, second floor, two from the left. Before they see you!"
She ducked back inside again, blinking in the dim light and stuffy smell of incense.
"You'll be in hot water if they find out you're working for free," Peng Li said, staring at her and chewing slowly on her thumbnail.
"I'm not going to fuck him! I just need to talk to him. I know him from before."
Peng Li didn't seem convinced. She was one of the more good-natured girls, not paranoid nor obsessed with the pecking order the way that some of them were. But that didn't necessarily mean she was above blackmail.
Jian Lan gritted her teeth and headed to her private room, Peng Li trailing behind. So she'd just taken on a new debt. Whatever. It would be worth it if this Feng Xin could get her out of here.
As she'd expected, he had no issues climbing two stories up and into her open window. The prince and his companions had all been like that. His clothes were ragged and strands of his hair were coming loose from their knot. There was a wild look on his face, which she would later realise was fear, but at the time made her even more aware of what a risk she was taking. Well, as her father had always told her, there was no reward without risk.
"You've had your eyeful, now buzz off," Jian Lan told Peng Li, and she closed the door.
Now the two of them were alone together, Feng Xin looked toward the window like he wanted to jump back out. Jian Lan smiled soothingly at him—he wouldn't meet her eyes—and closed the shutter as well.
"It's been quite a while, hasn't it?" she said. "Please, take a seat."
"Um... thank you. Sorry, I don't remember your name." His voice was rough and had, to put it politely, a resonant quality, even though he was trying to speak quietly.
"It's Jian Lan," she told him. "Of that Jian family. At one point, I was to be a royal concubine."
"Ah, right. Well. Fancy meeting you here. How on earth did you end up like this?"
Reflexively, Jian Lan gave her fakest customer-laugh. She hated when men asked her that. You're so beautiful, so intelligent, so cultured. How did you end up a whore? What's wrong with you? At least Feng Xin was so rude about it that he couldn't possibly be fishing for a sob story to jerk off to.
He had gone through a lot himself, by the looks of things. Maybe he would understand something about it. About refusing to evacuate with the others, grabbing the ornamental spear from the front hall and defending the gates of her family home till what she had decided would be her dying breath... In a moment of weakness the story came up into her throat and stuck there, too large to come up or to force back down.
She swallowed hard. "I was taken prisoner when Yong'an invaded the capital, and they sold me here. That's what I get for sticking my neck out, I suppose."
"I remember seeing you at a protest?"
"That's right. Well then, you know the whole story."
"I was impressed back then! You seemed to be doing really well."
Yeah, she'd been doing so well, back when the faceless Yong'an man had scraped her future prospects out of her cunt and the only things left to keep her going had been rage and revenge. She'd done oh so much to help with the volatile political situation in the capital, refusing to settle for anything less than all-out war. At least nowadays she had life goals. Even if they only stretched as far as 'get the hell out'.
Something must have shown on her face because he scrambled to his feet again. "I shouldn't have said that," he mumbled. "Sorry. I know we're the ones that let everything go to shit. We, I should've done more. Sorry, I should leave you alone—"
Jian Lan panicked. The last thing she wanted was for him to leave. But why should she be the one that had to comfort him? About her own life! Why couldn't he have just—
He was moving towards the window. "Lord Feng!" she yelled, making him jump. "Get a grip on yourself! You cannot climb out the window like a common thief!"
"Yes, Lady Jian," he said, looking sheepish. At her direction, he returned to his seat, straightening his back and folding his hands in front of him. It was the most authority she'd commanded in a long time.
She took a deep breath. "Now, how about yourself? What business do you have in this city, let alone paying me a visit?"
"It wasn't safe for the royal family back at the capital, so we moved around and we've ended up here." His story was just as short as hers, she thought with a wince. "I don't like to owe anyone so I came back to pay for the damage my arrow did. But also, you were here. I thought we could catch up and maybe there would be something I could do to help you."
It was the first time he had looked straight at her, and she found his gaze to be earnest, incongruous in the centre of his creased-up face. His cheeks were hollow and his clothes were stained with dirt. Jian Lan's heart sank as she realised that he would not be able to buy her freedom, nor did he have his own freedom with which to run away with her. It sank further still as she realised her position had not changed: the last thing she wanted was for him to leave.
"Help me? The household is running smoothly enough," she improvised, waving a hand. "Although there is one little detail... here in the middle of the city, the choice in flowers can be so pedestrian." She indicated the tiny, curvaceous vase on the table, which held a couple of dried-out weeds from the back garden. "If you could spare the time to bring fresh ones every now and again, it would be greatly appreciated."
He laughed uncertainly. "That's all?"
"That's all. I want to enjoy the springtime scenery myself," she alluded.
It was barely a joke, but his laugh this time was real. "Fair enough! Well, I live in the middle of the woods so it should be easy enough to find flowers."
She huffed a laugh of her own. "I imagine so."
They looked at the dried-out weeds together. The silence was awkward and sweet—
—the door twitched open, making them both jump nearly out of their skins. It was Peng Li. "She's coming!" she hissed.
Those few seconds' warning were enough to bundle Feng Xin back the way he came. The madam eyed the wide-open window, but couldn't prove anything.
"I owe you," Jian Lan told Peng Li over the slop they called dinner, wanting to get ahead of the issue. "What do you want? I don't earn a wage, you know. And we don't look so similar that I can take your clients."
Peng Li shook her head. "Just tell me how it goes with him," she said.
"Tch! Is it so interesting?"
"It is! It makes me nostalgic," she said, scratching her spoon at something in the empty bowl. "My husband used to come and visit me in here."
A few other girls looked around at this bold sharing of personal details. "What happened to him?" Jian Lan pressed.
"He ran out—who knows of what? Money, time, patience, love..."
"Wow, fuck him, then."
"Eh, not really. He was a good man." She laughed at the look on Jian Lan's face. "Aww, Lan-er. You'll understand someday."
"Impertinent chit," Jian Lan grumbled, but she wasn't in a position to argue much.
The next day, her private room was switched to one of the inner ones, whose only windows opened onto the dim corridors. In a fit of optimism she took the vase over with her.
--
They were long past the point of flowers now. These days the things Feng Xin brought her were mostly excuses for being away so long; but she herself was long past the point of begrudging him for anything. The last bunch of bone-dry wildflowers shivered on the bedside table every night while she worked.
Her first client that evening had been one of the worst, the sort that didn't care if she pretended to enjoy it nor if she played up her suffering. He'd only wanted a fresh piece of pork to masturbate with. Some girls liked the easy money, but Jian Lan hated it.
She tried with these men, she smiled, made conversation, then gasped and arched her back, but it wasn't real. Her mind wandered off to somewhere, and she was left at the end of the session wondering what his face had looked like and why she was so sore.
Her pussy still throbbed from the fucking; she realised it as she was tidying the room in preparation for the next customer. She squirmed and trained her thoughts onto the usual fantasy, of Feng Xin holding her from behind, slowly pushing inside as he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. He'd undoubtedly stretch her open wider than whoever had come before. Fill her more completely. His seed would go all the way to the core of her...
It was a bit of a mood killer when the real deal arrived. She recognised his footsteps in the hall, the quiet and efficient tread of a martial artist, and hurried to recline on the low bed, facing partly away from him. It would be less stressful for him to approach her like this. She glanced nonchalantly back over her shoulder as he crossed the doorway, before turning to gaze at the the ink painting hanging on the wall.
"Jian Lan," he said, and there was a squeal of wood as he settled on the chair by the bed. "How are things?"
"You're late," she complained. "I'm a bit tired. Nothing special. How about you, have you eaten?"
"I have," he reassured her. "My job at the moment does us meals."
"Oh? That sounds like a good job."
He grumbled. "Pay's lower. But... yes, it's a good one. I'm sick of busking, so I want to stay in this as long as I can." He sighed and there was another creak of wood. "Today, I even... One of the guys made a bullshit comment about His Highness while we were eating, and I didn't fight him—I didn't even say anything."
"Ha! Since when do you have that kind of self-control?"
"I've got no clue either! Well," there was the soft rasp as he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, "since you, probably. When I need to calm down I think about us."
"Gosh, A-Xin has gotten so mature," she teased, and couldn't resist turning to see his blush. He ducked his head away from her, smiling.
"It kinda feels like that," he admitted. "I'm twenty-something, but I'm only just starting to understand how adults think."
"Mm," Jian Lan agreed, although she wasn't sure she knew what he meant.
"Although there are some things I wish I didn't understand," he muttered.
They lapsed into silence, and the air grew heavy.
She knew that when Feng Xin said us he meant our future—whatever life he pictured they would make together after he had saved enough to buy her freedom, which he intended to do just like this, while working to feed three people as well as blowing his money on nights here at the brothel.
That was already a futile plan, but even if it were to come to fruition, what would they do? Jian Lan would have to find work too—respectable work. She might not be a noble lady any more, but at least her current job relied on her beauty and wit, in some nominal sense. Would it be easier to scrub pots or work in a field all day?
Then there was the issue of her period, which had not come in months now, too many months to blame it on the deprivations she'd gone through after being captured.
Feng Xin was still rubbing the back of his neck; he must be sore from whatever labour he'd been doing. "Come here," Jian Lan ordered, and he obliged, scraping his stool closer and turning so that he was the one facing away from her instead, and she could give him a shoulder massage.
It was one of the few tricks she was glad to have picked up working here. She dug her fingers viciously through the worn cloth and into the muscles of his broad back, eliciting first a gasp of pain and then a deeper noise as he submitted to the relaxation.
She undid his hair from its knot and finger-combed it loose. That way she could massage his neck and scalp too. His skin was warm and a bit oily, and it smelled so good it made her dizzy.
After a while of that, touching him with only her fingertips, she couldn't take it any more. She put her arms around him and squeezed gently.
"...Hey," he said.
"Should we try again?" she whispered in his ear.
He swallowed. "Yes. I was thinking that."
They were good at hugging now, and kissing, and she could feel against her thigh that she'd managed to get him hard. He guided her to lay back on the cushions and, with the resolve of a man sticking his hand into a bucket of scorpions, placed his huge palm on her breast. Having conquered this, he repeated the feat on her other breast. He rubbed them carefully as if trying not to be stung.
It wasn't sexy at all, but Jian Lan did her best to be supportive. She smiled and went along with it as he slid her jacket off her arms, then tried to pull down her top; but really it needed to be untied at the back first.
Discovering this, he grabbed her shoulder to turn her around. She hadn't thought he would manhandle her like that. It surprised her so much that she lost control and flinched. The next thing she knew she was the one grabbing him by the arms as he attempted to retreat all the way to the opposite corner of the bed.
"Oh no you don't!" she yelled. "I barely moved! Don't be such a pussy!" She was not going to let this be the end of it!
"I'm sorry!" he said, wide-eyed.
"You feel like you've grown up? What a joke. You're just a little virgin boy that can't even handle undressing a woman!"
He drew himself up. "Yeah, well, you're the one who goes around fucking other men all day, so I don't know where you get off acting so uncomfortable with me!"
"What? That's work. I have no choice! Because I'm stuck in this shithole, you may remember, thanks to being kidnapped! You know, at least I have an excuse for finding this hard after everything I've been through, but what about you? What's wrong with you, huh?"
"Shut the fuck up! I don't know!" Feng Xin shouted. "I've never known! I was just born this way, all right? I'm never going to be good enough! This is it forever! Is that enough of an answer for you? Happy?"
"You listen to me, Feng Xin—"
Her ears were ringing from the loudness of his voice. She only realised the guard had come when the door opened. "We're fine," she announced, gesturing with her chin towards the frozen Feng Xin, whose forearms she still had trapped in her grip. The guard looked dubious but eventually retreated, dragging the door shut behind him. He was probably just glad he didn't have to throw out such a large and notoriously violent man.
"I'm sorry," she said as soon as they were alone again. "That was stupid." She crawled forward and put her forehead on Feng Xin's chest. Every minute of their time together was so precious, so horribly expensive, and now she'd ruined their whole night by being horny and bad-tempered. She was an idiot.
He was silent and tight with anger for what felt like ages, but eventually he gave in and sighed. "I'm sorry too," he conceded. "Wait—don't let go of me."
She'd let go of his forearms, wanting a proper hug from him, but she took them back again. Her fingers barely met around the narrowest part of each wrist. "You like that? Why?" She looked up at him, and found that he was able to meet her eyes more steadily than normal.
"I don't know. I guess I can't get away if I'm trapped like this. And I can't do anything to you either."
"But you're so much stronger than me."
"I can't," he insisted.
"You think you'll do something bad to me otherwise?"
"I mean, I already did—"
"Oh, please," she tutted. "Do you see a mark on me? Do you see me in pain? No. Don't tell me you're so scared of women because you think we're made of twigs and paper."
"No I don't." He squirmed a bit. He really did seem like he wanted to get away, but couldn't.
Experimentally, she used one hand to undo the ties round her waist, pulling the sash free—she saw his eyes track the motion as her clothes fell loose about her body—and she used it to tie his wrists together instead. It was a pale yellow that contrasted against his tanned skin. There was plenty of fabric left over, and to amuse herself she tied it into a big, floppy bow.
"Good?"
"The way you tied it is stupid. This is all stupid."
"Hmm. I don't think you're in a position to complain, though," she said, stroking the flimsy cotton. His eyes widened, and he didn't contradict her.
If he were a client she would've thought that she had just struck gold. No, she had struck gold. Wouldn't it be something, if she could make Feng Xin feel half as good as some of her clients did? Wouldn't that be an excellent use for the skills she had acquired so grudgingly?
She went on the attack. "If you like this, shall I tie your legs too? Gag that big mouth of yours? Strip you naked?"
"Um... uh, I guess my clothes have to come off at some point."
She helped him out of his clothes, then retied his hands. She climbed into his lap to kiss him and was pleased at his response, the way he exhaled shakily against her lips and initiated the next kiss, and the next.
Not wanting to let him take the lead, she pulled away again and spent some time ogling his body, lingering on his sharply defined muscles, and the shadow of fine hairs that softened the centre of his chest and led to his crotch. He draw his knees up, trying to escape her gaze, but she pushed them back down. "Are you shy? Scared?" she asked. "There's nothing you can do; why don't you just sit there and be scared while I have my way with you." She stroked her fingertips up and down his chest.
"I'm not scared," he argued. "You're being—rude."
She smiled at that. "I'm being nice." She gave his pecs a squeeze, as much of them as she could grasp with her hands. "You were so scared of this. It's not so horrible to have your tits groped, is it?"
"They're not fucking tits, those are just big muscles!" His frown was very deep and very embarrassed.
"Yeah, yeah, your tits are big." Before he could protest more she gave his nipples a pinch. He screwed his eyes shut and put his head down, breathing deeply—did he know it made his chest heave so appealingly? She switched from pinching to rubbing. Muscles worked in his shoulders as he squirmed his wrists against their restraints.
She was getting somewhere, but he was still too self-conscious. How could she make it good for him? She thought about the clients she'd had in the past and about the stories she'd heard from the other girls. She thought about Feng Xin and the kinds of things that troubled him.
"All right, I won't torture you any more," she decided. "Let's make you decent."
She reached behind herself and undid the ties on her top, letting the length of fine fabric slip from her chest. Feng Xin looked, but he didn't move. His eyes nearly crossed as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, tying it around his chest instead of hers.
"In what world is this decent?" he said, voice jumping high with the stress as she pressed up against him.
"Can't handle it?" she asked gently, but she already knew how he would reply. Feng Xin never backed out of anything; for once it was a quality she could use to her advantage. "Good. Then stop fighting. Right now, all I need you to do is sit there and look pretty for me. Can you do that?"
"You're kidding," he muttered.
"I'm not. Put on the skirt." She made him kneel up so she could tie it around his waist, then sit again so it pooled around him. "Such a nice shade of orange—it suits you. You probably wouldn't even be able to run in it," she said approvingly. She did her best not to sound like a clothes merchant. Casting her eyes around for more inspiration, she caught sight of her jacket lying discarded on the bed next to them. She shook the flimsy thing out, then draped it over his shoulders.
"This one is such a fancy bit of nothing," she told him, fingering the embroidery at the hem, which was a pale peach. "Such detailed flower patterns. Only ladies and prostitutes wear this kind of thing. I wonder which you are?"
He frowned; she kissed his cheek. "Don't worry your little head over it; you don't get to decide anyway. If I want you as a whore, that's how I'll have you." He whimpered as she pulled his head back and sucked another kiss from his mouth. What a soft noise it was, and it filled her with such a fierce satisfaction. She had guessed right that this could be his way out. "Or perhaps I'll do you up as a lady," she added soothingly.
She redid his hair with her own hairpin, then used those flowers he'd given her on the final touch, tucking the delicate white blossoms behind his ears. Honestly, her hands were shaking too much for the work, and overall her efforts had left Feng Xin a skimpy mess, but he didn't know that. He stared up at her with slightly parted lips and a blush across his cheeks; the crease at his brow gave him a helpless look. He was indeed doing a good job of sitting there and looking pretty.
"I'm going to untie your wrists now," she said. The bow shrank to nothing with a tug. "Lie down for me? Yes, on your side. There's a good girl."
He had curled up obediently under her hands, but at those last words his breath caught, and he reached out towards her. His fingertips grazed the skin of her thigh, and she shifted towards him in turn, petting his hair and stroking down his spine. "Such a good girl, so pretty for me," she murmured. His other hand crept to cover the tent in his skirt, but she caught his wrist and moved it back.
She lay down opposite and, feeling terribly proud and fond, took a moment to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. Loose flower petals tumbled down his cheek. As she embraced him and reached down to coax the first gasp of pleasure from his lips, it occurred to her that she was quite good at her job, too.