Chapter Three: The Illusory City Reflected in the Mirror of Splendor

Though Mingming Mirror City was in the midst of spring, a faint chill lingered in the air. Qin Xiaomo glanced down at the bundle in her hands. “Perhaps I should put on these clothes after all? At least they’ll keep me warm,” she mused.

So, she slipped behind a large stone among the willows and changed. It was true—when in Rome, do as the Romans do. The clothes were not only warm and comfortable but imbued with a celestial elegance. A faint white glow seemed to emanate from the robes, or perhaps from her own body, making her skin appear as soft and pale as snow.

“What am I supposed to do now? Wait to wake up? If I don’t wake for two years, wouldn’t my soul starve here before it escapes? A soulless body is nothing more than… a vegetable!” Sitting on a stone beneath the city’s archway, Qin Xiaomo propped her chin on her hand, pondering her future. “No, I’ll have to enter the city. Besides, I’m starting to feel hungry.”

Passing through the archway and continuing along the cobbled path, she soon caught sight of the city gate.

The gate tower soared in three tiers, its corners upturned to the heavens. Red beams, green eaves, and golden inlays adorned its structure. The archway itself was faced with white marble, exuding grandeur and authority. The crowds passing through the gates were a lively tapestry—some elegant, some wealthy, some humble—but all radiated vitality, their faces peaceful and content. The calls of distant merchants drew nearer as traders exited the city, while a tavern beside the gate opened its doors, its flag lazily fluttering in the breeze. Stalls lined the streets, offering a dazzling array of wares. Occasionally, a carriage with a crimson canopy and paired horses rolled through the bustling crowd—clearly belonging to a wealthy family. White gauze curtains hung at the carriage door, beside which a lantern bore the bold character for “Qian,” and bells jingled atop the carriage, resonating with each bump.

“Make way! Make way!” the coachboy shouted loudly.

“Ah, I heard the Qian family is really out of luck,” a woman in red whispered to her companion in green.

“Which Qian family?” the green-clad woman perked up instantly. Gossip, after all, was the glue of friendship in any realm.

“Which else? The rulers of our Nine Cities and One Prefecture.”

“What happened to them?”

“Just a few days ago, my husband told me that rumor has it the Prefecture Prince’s household welcomed a son eighteen years ago. The boy was clever and lively as a child, but at age four, overnight, he became a cripple. Allegedly, the Prince’s wife, fearing the concubine’s son might contend for the title, poisoned him in hopes of killing him. The child’s fate was strong—he survived, but his body was ruined, escaping death only to live as an invalid.” The woman in red cupped her hand to her mouth, her expression animated and dramatic, as if she’d witnessed it firsthand.

Qin Xiaomo listened secretly beside them. Such melodrama—news certainly traveled fast.

“You mean the rumored illegitimate son, said to be hideous beyond belief, whom the Prefecture Prince hid away—Qian Mubai?” The green-clad woman widened her eyes, her voice rising involuntarily. It was a nugget of gossip she couldn’t wait to share.

“Shh! Keep your voice down!”

Qian Mubai!

Hearing those three syllables, Qin Xiaomo was stunned. She grabbed the red-clad woman’s arm and pressed urgently, “Who did you say? Say it again!”

“Let go! Are you mad? I didn’t say anything!” The red-clad woman, thinking Qin Xiaomo was from the Qian household and fearing trouble from her loose tongue, quickly extricated herself.

The green-clad woman pulled her away. “Come, let’s not mind her.”

Qian Mubai was Qin Xiaomo’s beloved idol—the face modeled after rising stars Song Weilong, Cai Xukun, and Zhu Yilong. The facial modeling, stuffing, and refinements took two months, and Yan Su had cursed her plenty for it.

Yet they said Qian Mubai was a hideous illegitimate son. Clearly, he’d never shown his face here, or else matchmakers would have beaten down his door.

Never mind, food mattered most. Qin Xiaomo suddenly remembered something and began searching herself. “Oh dear, I need money to eat, don’t I?” She opened her backpack—besides the wooden staff gifted by the white-bearded elder, she had only a few taels of silver. “Who knows what things cost here? Even if I dine and dash, what’s the worst that could happen? At most, I’d be made to wash dishes?” Resolving herself, she headed toward the city’s largest restaurant—Drunken Fragrance Pavilion.

Drunken Fragrance Pavilion. How did Qin Xiaomo know? She’d copied the name from a leather-bound notebook, prompting Jidou to tease her, “Such a proper tavern, but the name sounds like a shady joint.”

The closer she got to the city center, the denser the crowds and the more lavish their attire. Drunken Fragrance Pavilion stood in the heart of the city, its doors open only to the wealthy and powerful. Not that the owner snubbed the poor—rather, the prices were so steep that a single meal could cost a poor family several months’ worth of food.

The tavern had three floors. The first was for ordinary guests, the second reserved for private rooms and dignitaries, and the third—not open to the public. Qin Xiaomo strolled up to the entrance. The usher sized her up and said, “Miss, the minimum for the first floor is fifty taels of silver per person.”

“Fifty taels?” Qin Xiaomo quickly calculated—one tael was equivalent to about 150 to 200 yuan, so that was roughly ten thousand yuan per person. Quite expensive!

The usher, thinking she was intimidated by the price, made to leave.

Qin Xiaomo looked at the pitiful few taels in her purse, gritted her teeth, and said, “Lead the way!”… She’d simply have to dine and dash.

The usher, well-trained and composed, led her inside, seating her at a window on the first floor. Qin Xiaomo pointed upstairs, “I’d like a private room—it’s too noisy here.” Since she was already planning to dine and dash, she might as well do it boldly.

“Miss, the second floor must be reserved in advance. My apologies—next time, please inform us ahead, and I’ll make sure to save a room for you.” The usher, seeing she wasn’t a wealthy patron but still courteous, handled her with tact.

Just then, a burly tycoon entered, gnawing on a duck leg. “Any rooms upstairs?”

“Yes, yes, all rooms on the second floor are vacant. Master Liu, please choose as you wish.” Another usher bowed and led the way.

Qin Xiaomo suddenly realized the usher before her had good manners and high emotional intelligence. She asked, “What’s your name?”

He was momentarily surprised—no one had asked in a long time. “I’m… Bai Ji.”

“What a lovely name. I’ll remember you. Here’s the menu—bring the dishes.”

After the usher departed, Qin Xiaomo idly observed the restaurant’s décor. She hadn’t noticed before, but now she saw how truly opulent it was.

The tavern covered 2,000 square meters. At one end of the entrance stood a stage where elegantly costumed performers sang. A red peony-patterned carpet stretched from the doorway straight to the stage, flanked by four massive red columns with gold-rimmed blue cloud motifs. Strings of carved lanterns hung from the beams, adding grandeur. Though there was no electricity, candlelight bathed the golden walls in brilliance.

Looking up at the second floor, Qin Xiaomo noticed a half-open window, through which she glimpsed a handsome, white-robed figure wearing a half-mask of a demon. That profile looked so much like Qian Mubai. She stared for a long while, until he noticed her peeking and promptly turned away, instructing his attendant to shut the windows tight.

“Stingy fellow.” The dishes she ordered arrived, and hunger overtook her curiosity.

But Qin Xiaomo did not realize how close she already was to danger.