Chapter 432: Jealousy
The silver-haired captive was so charismatic, so unapologetically confident, and so shockingly knowledgeable about the finer things in life, that the matriarch had simply decided to keep her as a prized, pampered pet.
"Finesse is just applied patience, Madam," Ji’an drawled smoothly, handing a perfectly brewed cup of tea back to the blushing maiden.
She popped a peeled grape into her own mouth, chewing lazily. "Though, I must admit, your establishment’s skincare regimen is atrocious. I noticed the dry patches on your elbows when you grabbed my shirt earlier."
Madam Rouge gasped, a genuine look of horror crossing her beautiful face.
She frantically touched her elbow. "Dry patches? I use the finest crushed-pearl ointments in the Eastern Basin!"
"Crushed pearl is too abrasive for an arid desert climate," Ji’an lectured, slipping effortlessly into a cross between a high-end dermatologist and a disappointed grandmother.
She leaned back against the cushions, completely commanding the attention of every woman in the room. "You need a humectant. If you take the fat from a wild desert boar, clarify it over a low flame, and whip it with a dash of honey and aloe, you get a cream that traps the moisture. I’ll write down the recipe for you. Your skin will feel like silk in two days."
"Heavens above, you are a miracle worker," one of the junior succubi sighed dreamily, gazing at Ji’an with starry-eyed devotion.
She practically crawled across the velvet cushions, holding up a platter of exotic fruits. "Please, Lord Ji’an, allow me to peel a lychee for you!"
"You’re too kind, sweetheart," Ji’an winked, a gesture that sent the junior succubus into a fit of delighted giggling.
Ji’an was having the time of her life.
For weeks, she had been surrounded by sweaty, aggressive, emotionally stunted teenage boys who communicated exclusively through violence, property damage, and unhinged jealousy.
She had been forced to act like a ruthless, masculine tyrant just to survive the Vanguard Tour.
But here?
Surrounded by women who just wanted to drink good tea, eat snacks, and gossip about skincare?
It was heaven.
She didn’t have to carry a heavy spatula. She didn’t have to yell.
She could just relax, talk about herbal synergies, and let the glitching artifact do all the heavy lifting for her charisma.
She was completely oblivious to the fact that she was currently enacting a hostile, unintentional takeover of the brothel’s entire socio-romantic hierarchy.
Across the penthouse, standing near the arched mahogany doorways, stood the Crimson Consorts.
They were the elite male prostitutes of the Pavilion.
They were incredibly handsome, heavily perfumed, oiled men dressed in silks, trained for decades in the arts of seduction, poetry, and pleasing the succubi.
And they were currently glaring at Lin Ji’an with an intensity that could melt lead.
"Look at him," the lead Consort, a man named Xuefeng, hissed venomously, aggressively snapping his silk fan shut.
He was glaring daggers at Ji’an’s relaxed, lounging form. "He lounges on the Madam’s personal divan like he owns the sect. He hasn’t recited a single line of poetry! He hasn’t played the guqin! He is literally just lecturing them about tea temperatures and animal fat!"
"The maidens are completely enchanted," another Consort wept softly, clutching his oiled chest in despair.
"Little Hua didn’t even look at me when I flexed my abdominals! She was too busy asking the silver-haired demon how to properly braise a duck! He is stealing our livelihood through culinary trivia!"
"It is an outrage!" Xuefeng seethed, his perfectly manicured nails biting into his palms. "We spend hours applying essential oils and practicing our melancholic gazes! And this... this wandering merchant walks in covered in dirt, insults the Madam’s elbows, and they treat him like a descending deity! We must expose his fraudulence! We must challenge his virility!"
The male prostitutes were practically vibrating with intense, territorial jealousy.
They were used to being the prized jewels of the Crimson Lotus Pavilion.
Now, they were being entirely ignored in favor of a silver-haired chef who was currently teaching the succubi how to play a drinking game involving thrown grapes and incredible hand-eye coordination.
"Ten points for the trick shot!" Ji’an laughed loudly, successfully bouncing a grape off the edge of a bronze mirror and directly into the mouth of a giggling succubus.
"You are spectacular, Brother Ji’an!" the succubus cheered, clapping her hands. "The Consorts never play games with us! They just sit in the corner and act sad so we will pity them!"
"Sad boys are truly boring," Ji’an declared smoothly, swirling her tea. "A real partner knows how to have a good time without demanding emotional labor. Now, who wants to learn how to make a sugar-scrub using leftover tea leaves?"
The women squealed in delight, crowding closer to the divan, completely monopolizing Ji’an’s attention.
In the corner, Xuefeng could not take it a second longer.
The lead Consort stormed across the penthouse, his silks billowing aggressively behind him.
He marched directly up to the divan, placing himself between Ji’an and the succubi, puffing out his chest.
"You speak of trivialities, merchant!" Xuefeng sneered, projecting his voice to ensure Madam Rouge heard him.
He glared down at Ji’an’s relaxed, lounging form. "You entertain the maidens with kitchen gossip! But a true Consort of the Crimson Lotus must possess refined, aristocratic talents! Can you paint? Can you compose a sonnet that moves the soul to tears? Or are you merely a crude peasant hiding behind a pretty face?!"
The room went entirely silent.
The succubi gasped, offended on Ji’an’s behalf, turning to glare at the jealous Consort.
Ji’an didn’t sit up. She didn’t even flinch.
She slowly, deliberately raised her silver-flecked eyes, looking Xuefeng up and down with an expression of lazy, utterly devastating pity.
She let the silence stretch for five agonizing seconds, allowing the weight of her celestial, young-master arrogance to crush the Consort’s fragile ego.
"A sonnet? Painting? Just this much?" Ji’an finally drawled, her husky voice dripping with absolute, unapologetic mockery.