Chapter 84: Turmoil Rises Again

After soaking in the water for an hour, Chen Yage stepped out of the bath barrel. If she continued to soak, not only would it fail to unblock her blood vessels, but it would also leave her even more weak and powerless. According to scientific reasoning, bath time should not be too long, or one could die suddenly in the tub.

The maids, both senior and junior, dressed Chen Yage in a green strapless dress, embroidered with a blooming lotus across the chest—beautiful and pure, though it was wasted on Chen Yage. The maids regretted it, and Chen Yage herself felt she had ruined such a lovely dress.

Supported by the maids, Chen Yage sat in front of the dressing table. Her features appeared faintly in the bronze mirror: gentle contours, an arched willow brow, and a pair of large, lively eyes resting under her brows, imparting a hint of playfulness. For the first time, Chen Yage felt she was not so ugly after all. Her skin was a little dark, but that was natural beauty—the mark of health. The red mole between her brows no longer seemed unsightly; she treated it as a touch of vermilion, much like those beauties of legendary fame who loved to paint a dot of red between their brows.

The more Chen Yage thought, the more confident she became. She smiled, and the mirror reflected a smiling face. The maids could hardly stand her self-admiration, but found it amusing nonetheless. They gently smoothed her hair.

The senior maid drew Chen Yage’s brows, dusted her face with powder, and dabbed color on her lips. The junior maid styled her hair, fashioning a chignon reminiscent of the moon rising over the western hills, and adorned it with a magnolia hairpin of white jade and vermilion.

Once their work was done, the junior maid carefully admired her handiwork, clearly satisfied. The senior maid layered thick powder over Chen Yage’s skin, forcibly making her healthy, dark complexion appear pale and tender.

“Actually, you do have a bit of beauty in you,” the junior maid said, resting her chin on her left hand, her tone earnest.

The senior maid circled Chen Yage, still feeling something was missing. Suddenly, she slapped her thigh and smiled brightly. Picking up a brush, she touched Chen Yage’s brow, instantly conjuring a plum blossom. The junior maid exclaimed, “Sister, your hand is truly deft—this is the finishing touch, the crowning stroke! Marvelous, truly marvelous.”

“Your skill is not lacking either. If you hadn’t styled the hair so well, even with my deft hand, we wouldn’t have achieved such a stunning result,” replied the senior maid modestly, though pride colored her voice.

Looking at her reflection, Chen Yage could scarcely believe her eyes. She reached out to touch her face; the sensation affirmed it was real. The person in the mirror was indeed herself. But the conversation between the maids pulled her from her reverie. With a cold remark, she said, “If I weren’t good-looking, no matter how skillful you are, your efforts would have been in vain.”

The maids fell silent, draping a white shawl light as cicada wings over her shoulders, adding an extra touch of softness.

“Not bad, not bad. There is indeed a bit of beauty here,” the madam said, entering the room unnoticed. She chastised, “You two have been at this for so long without informing me—I have to come myself. Have I been too lenient with you that you’ve forgotten the rules of Windshadow Pavilion?”

The maids lowered their heads, faces dark with discomfort. The junior maid glared angrily at Chen Yage, though she dared not speak.

Chen Yage couldn’t help but laugh. “To transform someone of my looks into such an ethereal beauty is entirely their merit. Your words truly do them an injustice.”

The madam’s expression shifted as she glanced at the maids. She circled Chen Yage, examining her carefully from head to toe, praising as she looked. “Well, well, what fortune today! Without spending a penny, I’ve gained a money tree.”

“Whether it’s a money tree or a hot potato is yet to be seen. If it burns your hand and you suffer in silence, you’ll have my deepest sympathy,” Chen Yage said, twisting a lock of hair with a sardonic air.

The madam drew closer to Chen Yage. She was just past forty, her face heavily made up, exuding allure. Having spent years in this world of pleasure, she’d seen all sorts of people; to her, Chen Yage was merely someone with a stubborn pride. She laughed, “You certainly have a sharp tongue. I like it, but I wonder if the clients will.”

At a signal from the madam, the senior maid left the room, returning shortly with a small blue-and-white porcelain bottle, no bigger than a thumb and exquisitely made.

Two men in blue, who had been guarding outside, entered abruptly. Chen Yage grew wary, but was quickly restrained by them.

The madam seized Chen Yage’s chin, placing the porcelain bottle to her lips. A gentle tilt sent a sweet liquid into her mouth. The senior maid handed the madam a cup of water, which she poured down Chen Yage’s throat with a smile.

Though Chen Yage resisted swallowing, the madam tilted her chin, forcing the water down. “What did you make me drink?” Chen Yage managed to ask, only to realize her voice was hoarse, barely able to utter a sound.

“You…” Chen Yage pointed furiously at the madam, managing only the word “you” before losing her voice entirely.

The madam was quite pleased with Chen Yage’s current state. She shook her round fan and patted Chen Yage’s shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry. If you behave, I’ll give you the antidote for the mute powder. But if you keep defying me, thinking of escape, then escape if you like—so long as you’re willing to be mute for life.”

How vicious, Chen Yage thought, but she could only glare helplessly at the madam, unable to speak a word.

The madam declared, “Tonight you’ll entertain guests. From now on, you’ll be called Mu Ying. Not everyone receives such treatment. I have high hopes for you—that’s why your name carries the character 'Ying.' You’d better perform well. If you do, I won’t treat you poorly.”

Chen Yage grew anxious. She had lost both her ability to resist and to speak. Was she to surrender so easily? No—she would not yield, not until the very last moment.

Supported by the maids, Chen Yage followed the madam to the front courtyard. Music and dance filled the air; beauties mingled like blossoms among wild grass, dazzling to the eye.

The scent of rouge was overwhelming. Chen Yage had never experienced such intense fragrance; it was so strong that she found it repulsive. She sneezed, prompting the madam to glare at her. “This is Windshadow Pavilion. You must get used to it and always maintain your most beautiful posture. If you can endure, then endure; if not, hold it in.”