At midnight, around the third watch of the night, their carriage finally rolled to a stop before a small party house tucked away at the corner of a busy street. Calling it a party house was perhaps too elegant for what it truly was. A brothel stood proudly behind painted wooden doors, its lanterns glowing warm shades of red and amber against the deep darkness of the sleeping city.
Even from outside, the noise crashed into them like ocean waves.
Laughter erupted from every corner. Cups slammed against tables. Someone upstairs was arguing drunkenly while another voice burst into loud song without warning. The atmosphere was chaotic, alive, and overwhelmingly loud—so loud that it almost deafened them after the long silence of the road.
For reasons neither wanted to admit aloud, both newcomers immediately regretted coming.
The sounds drifting from within carried an odd nostalgia. It reminded them of crowded streets during festivals, of restless nights spent where noise was easier to tolerate than silence. Yet nostalgia was deceptive; it painted ugly places with softer colors.
Inside, musicians occupied a small raised platform near the center of the establishment.
A young girl sat cross-legged while playing the piper, her cheeks slightly puffed as soft melodies escaped the instrument. Her bright smile never once faltered, and under the dancing lantern light, she looked capable of charming every person in the room without even trying.
Beside her sat another musician, older by several years and far more reserved. Her fingers moved steadily across the strings of a guqin resting before her. Unlike the younger girl, she wore an expression too serious for a place like this, her posture rigid and composed despite the drunken chaos surrounding them.
Together, they were opposites. One radiated sunlight. The other resembled moonlight.
Yet somehow, their music blended perfectly with the atmosphere—light melodies swallowed by rowdy voices and clattering cups.
As the two newly arrived guests stepped fully inside, they were immediately approached by a welcoming attendant whose only task was to greet customers and direct them toward empty spaces.
His eyes quickly swept across their clothing.
Though neither wore anything overly extravagant, their robes were clean, well-tailed, and carried the subtle refinement of people who had never truly struggled for coin. Experience told him these were likely wealthy elites looking for entertainment at an unreasonable hour.
His smile widened instantly.
"Table for two, please."
The first guest spoke casually. Beside them, the second guest simply nodded once.
The attendant was already preparing to call for someone when the quieter of the pair suddenly added,
"Can you make it next to those couple over there?"
The attendant followed their gaze, near one corner of the establishment, slightly hidden behind decorative screens and potted plants, sat a pair who clearly wanted distance from everyone else. Their table rested far from the center crowd, close enough to hear the music but far enough to escape the worst of the drunken shouting.
It was a strange request.
Very strange.
The attendant scratched his head awkwardly. Matters involving seating preferences beyond simple directions were not really his responsibility.
Spotting a nearby waiter carrying an empty tray, he immediately waved him over.
"Huh?" the waiter muttered after hearing the request. His eyes moved toward the secluded table. "That couple specifically wanted somewhere farther from the crowd. This…"
The welcoming attendant immediately lifted both hands.
"Whatever. You handle them. Don't make me do work that isn't welcoming."
Abandoned to fate, the waiter forced a professional smile onto his face before turning toward the newcomers.
"That couple chose that table because they preferred somewhere quieter," he explained politely. "We need to confirm whether they would mind sharing the area with you two. I apologize for the inconvenience."
"Sure," the first speaker replied easily. "We don't mind you confirming with them. Just make it quick."
The waiter nodded and hurried away.
Left alone, the two newly arrived guests slowly surveyed the establishment.
Lantern light painted the room gold and crimson.
The scent of expensive incense mixed poorly with cheap wine, roasted meat, perfume, and sweat. Upstairs balconies overlooked the main hall where beautifully dressed attendants moved between tables carrying trays heavy with food and alcohol. Some guests laughed too loudly. Others whispered behind sleeves. Several drunken patrons had already begun singing badly with the musicians.
And amid all this noise, the pair stood quietly.
Watching.
Their gazes moved through the crowd with a strange focus.
Like predators patiently studying prey. The waiter returned sooner than expected, looking strangely relieved.
"Thankfully, that couple were kind enough," he said with a grin that bordered on overly enthusiastic. "Please follow me."
He led them through the crowded hall. Past groups gambling with dice. Past merchants bragging loudly about wealth. Past intoxicated customers barely capable of sitting upright.
The farther they walked, the quieter the noise became.
Not silent—never silent—but bearable.
The table they were guided toward sat close enough to the secluded couple to satisfy the strange request while still leaving respectful distance between them.
The two guests took their seats.
From here, they could clearly see the musicians, the entrance, and nearly half the room.
An excellent position.
Once he confirmed they had settled properly, the waiter straightened and asked politely,
"What would you like to order?"
The quieter guest finally spoke. "Seven jars of alcohol."
The waiter blinked. The guest continued calmly.
"Till we drop."
For a moment, the waiter wondered whether he had misheard. Then he simply smiled.
"As you wish."
He disappeared into the sea of people while music continued drifting through lantern-lit air, and somewhere within the noise and laughter of the brothel, the night quietly prepared itself for trouble.
___
The wine arrived quickly.
One servant carried three jars balanced carefully in both arms while another followed behind with the remaining four, their clay surfaces still cool from storage. The jars were placed upon the table one after another with dull thuds, filling nearly every empty space between the oil lamp and scattered cups.
Without hesitation, one of the newly arrived guests immediately reached for a jar.
The seal broke with a satisfying pop.
She poured none of it into the cups provided. Instead, she raised the entire jar toward her lips and drank directly from it.
The expression on her face shifted almost instantly. Pure satisfaction. Pure relief.
It looked less like a person drinking alcohol and more like someone finally being reunited with something they had deeply missed. Her shoulders relaxed, her eyes softened, and for one ridiculous moment, she looked as though salvation itself had personally descended from heaven just to hand her wine.
Across from her, her companion looked profoundly unimpressed. Her brows furrowed slightly. Her posture remained straight.
Everything about her expression screamed regret.
"I am just wondering why we are here," she muttered while staring at the surrounding chaos. "As a goddess, I should not be in places like this."
The drinker lowered the jar and laughed.
"Hah. You speak as though you have never been to places like this before." She leaned lazily against the chair. "And what is with the goddess thing?"
Her companion shot her a flat look.
"We are here for a reason. Do not forget that."
"Yeah, yeah. I know." She waved dismissively before lifting the jar again. "You do not need to act like a wooden log all the time. That is so boring."
Her displeasure deepened.
Choosing not to continue the argument, she lifted one hand and motioned toward a passing waiter.
Fate—or perhaps misfortune—sent the same unfortunate waiter from earlier.
He approached quickly with practiced politeness.
"Yes, honored guest?"
"I need snacks," she said simply. "You have that, do you not?"
The waiter nodded immediately.
"Of course."
Then he vanished back into the moving crowd. Music drifted through the establishment continuously.
The younger musician's piper produced bright, playful melodies that danced through the air like floating ribbons, while the older woman's guqin added deeper notes beneath it—steady and grounding.
The brothel had only grown louder since their arrival. Several tables had begun gambling. Someone nearby was arguing about poetry.
A drunken merchant was loudly declaring himself the most handsome man in three cities while his companions laughed at him.
Lanterns swung gently overhead whenever the doors opened, allowing cool night air to slip briefly inside before being swallowed by warmth, perfume, and alcohol once again.
"Hey, Guo N'Yang," the drinker suddenly called after another long swallow. "Remind me what we are doing here again?"
Guo N'Yang exhaled slowly. Patience.
Great patience.
"We need to get her back to Heaven Cloud Woven," she answered. "She has done many questionable things. The Heavenly Emperor seeks her presence."
The drinker blinked. "Xing Yue? Or Xing Xie?"
Guo N'Yang remained silent for a moment.
Truthfully, she did not understand the Heavenly Emperor's intentions either.
Orders from above were rarely accompanied by explanations.
Her task was simple. Find the person.
Bring them back. Questions could wait.
"I am guessing both," she finally replied.
As she spoke, her eyes drifted toward the secluded couple seated ahead of them.
Toward Team Jiang.
Meanwhile, at the table nearest the wall, Jiang Yunxian quietly stared at the object hidden beneath the sleeve of his robe.
The bracelet. Or rather—
What remained of it.
The fragments they had recovered earlier had already confirmed one thing. There were five pieces. Five separate fragments scattered somewhere across the mortal realm.
And somehow, impossibly, the two recovered fragments had guided them here. To a brothel. Of all places.
Jiang Yunxian could accept ancient ruins.
Temples. Abandoned mountains. Forgotten tombs. But a brothel?
That part still refused to make sense.
"So," he said quietly while scanning the crowd, "who is it?"
His gaze moved across the room. Drunken nobles. Entertainers. Merchants. Servants.
Too many faces. Too much noise.
The reason they had insisted upon a quieter table was simple. Neither of them wanted unnecessary attention.
Especially not Xing Yue.
The irony of their situation was almost painful. A woman once acknowledged among the heavens. A figure many once revered.
Now seated inside a brothel at three in the morning pretending not to exist.
If anyone from the old days saw this scene, the heavens themselves might collapse from shock. Although perhaps not.
The heavens had already erased enough.
And Xing Yue was perhaps the only woman Jiang Yunxian had ever casually referred to as a god without hesitation.
Titles aside, none of it mattered right now.
They had work.
"Whoever it is," Xing Yue said while picking from the snacks that was served along with the wine, "looks like they are about to become the next target for that grotesque death."
The sentence settled heavily between them.
Because the murders were no longer coincidences.
Bodies kept appearing. Though just three with that terrifying death no one wants to encounter in their lives, but it was enough for nightmares. Just enough to give people a life long trauma.
The bracelet pieces kept moving.
And every lead seemed to arrive seconds too late.
Jiang Yunxian did not answer immediately.
Instead, his attention drifted elsewhere.
Toward the center platform.
The musicians.
The young piper smiled brightly while playing as though nothing dark existed in the world.
Beside her, the older musician maintained the same serious expression as her fingers moved smoothly across guqin strings.
Complete opposites. Yet strangely synchronized.
His instincts lingered there longer than necessary. There were things that needed double thought. But before he could think deeper...
The chair in front of him scraped softly against wood, momentarily distracting him. Xing Yue stood.
"I will be right back."
Before Jiang Yunxian could respond, she had already disappeared into the moving crowd. He watched her go for only a moment.
Then sighed.
He was too tired to ask questions.
Besides—
She was older than most kingdoms. Worrying about her felt ridiculous. So Jiang Yunxian remained seated while noise swallowed the room once more.
Around him, laughter continued. Wine continued flowing. Music continued playing.
And somewhere inside the crowded brothel, unseen beneath drunken smiles and lantern light, danger quietly moved among them.