Guilin stood at the edge of the massive stone bath, staring into the rippling water as if it might give him an answer. The steam coiled lazily upward, dancing past his face, fogging the air. In one hand, he clutched a half-empty jug of rice wine, old and dusty, the glaze cracked near the base.
His brow furrowed as he tilted it back for the last mouthful—only to find it empty. He blinked at the jug, swirled it once, then scowled and muttered, "Worthless thing…"
With a frustrated growl, he flung the jug aside. The porcelain shattered in the corner of the room, shards scattering across the polished floor like broken teeth.
Almost immediately, a cluster of silent, pale-robed servants slipped into the bathing chamber, sweeping up the fragments without a word. The head attendant, a quiet man in muted brown robes, approached more hesitantly, his expression equal parts weariness and concern.
He gave a low bow. "Master… that was the last jar. We've run out of wine."
Guilin didn't look at him. His gaze was still fixed on the bath, where the water gleamed with a deceptive calm. His voice came low and rough, almost like it hurt to speak. "Useless."
He swayed slightly, then stepped forward, barefoot on the warm stone tiles, mumbling under his breath. "I wonder where he is now…"
The servant tilted his head, not needing to ask who he referred to. The same thought had haunted Guilin for days—ever since Kui vanished into the tunnels with that mer child. Ever since Guilin had stayed behind, buying them time. Ever since he woke up again.
"Master," the servant tried, stepping forward. "Let me bring you more wine from the outer—"
But Guilin waved him off and pushed past him. "No. I'll go get my own drink."
"You're too drunk to walk the streets," the servant said gently, trailing behind.
"I can handle any amount of wine!" Guilin snapped, though his voice slurred around the edges. He staggered out into the hall, nearly knocking over a tray of folded towels, then shoved open the main door. He then stumbled over to the man gate of the mansion.
The servant remained behind in the hallway, watching his master's fading silhouette. He said nothing more.
Outside, Guilin pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders, muttering curses under his breath. The streets were slick with the spray of the sea, and the moon hung bloated behind drifting clouds. Lanterns swung gently on their hooks outside taverns.
Guilin stumbled out of the teahouse and across the slick, moonlit street, heading straight for the winehouse just down the hill—The Silver Lotus. The red lanterns hanging outside its carved gates glowed like seductive eyes in the night fog. A soft melody floated from within, plucked strings and low flutes weaving through the heavy air.
The moment he stepped inside, perfume hit him like a wave—floral, sweet, cloying. The lights were dim, and soft laughter floated through the open inner corridors. A young girl in a flowing lavender dress approached immediately, her makeup perfect, her hair arranged with gold combs and delicate pins.
(Note: In Chinese, a courtesan or high-class prostitute was often called a "Yiji" (艺妓) or "Jì nǚ" (妓女), though the former had a more cultured or artistic implication.)
She was clearly a Yiji, trained not just in seduction but in music, poetry, and charm. She smiled warmly and brushed her fingers over his arm with practiced ease. "Master, you've come late tonight. Shall I pour you something to help you forget?"
Guilin frowned, pulling his arm away. "Take me to a private room."
Her smile didn't falter. "Yes, master…"
She bowed lightly and beckoned him with a fan, leading him through a beaded curtain and down a quiet side hall. The room she brought him to was richly adorned—silk cushions, a lacquered table, and painted panels depicting plum blossoms in the snow.
Guilin dropped onto the cushion with a tired grunt.
But he wasn't alone for long.
Two more girls entered behind the first, one carrying a delicate tray of pastries and the other a curved bottle of warm wine. They giggled quietly, their robes brushing against the polished floor as they settled around him. One knelt beside him, pouring the wine with a delicate flick of her wrist.
Before she could bring the cup to his lips, Guilin plucked the bottle from her hands with a blank expression and poured the wine directly into a wide porcelain bowl. He held it between both hands and stared into its rippling surface.
The girls exchanged puzzled glances, unsure whether to continue trying to charm him.
But Guilin wasn't seeing them anymore. Not the painted smiles. Not the exposed skin or graceful laughter.
His mind was far away—on someone smaller, fiercer. His Kui.
The image rose like steam from a fever dream—Kui's face, twisted into that adorable pout when annoyed. The way he'd narrow his eyes at Guilin with suspicion, even when he trusted him enough to follow. That face, always so expressive. Those sharp, bright eyes… with just the faintest flicker of softness hidden behind all the barbs.
Guilin smiled faintly, then brought the bowl to his lips and tipped it back.
The wine burned hot down his throat, but it didn't chase away the memories.
More girls appeared, filtering into the room one by one, like drifting petals. Each tried their hand at drawing his attention—offering more wine, massaging his shoulders, whispering compliments in his ear. But none of it reached him.
He poured himself another bowl, and another. Every swallow deepened the ache.
"Kui…" he muttered under his breath, eyes glassy.
One of the girls leaned in. "Master? Did you say something?"
He waved her off without looking at her. "Go. All of you."
"But master—"
"Go."
The finality in his voice froze them. They gathered their sleeves and vanished as quickly as they had come, leaving Guilin alone in the velvet-draped silence.
He stared at the bowl in front of him, his fingers trembling slightly as they curled around the rim.
After he had sent Kui away the mers discovered that he was iuntsnetionally helping the mer prince escape. His trade route that he had almost won was out of his hand. Not only that but all hsi trading ships were destroyed by the mers.. he incured a heavy loss that left him in a great amount of debt.
Suddenly, from beyond the thin partition wall of the private room, Guilin heard a loud clatter of porcelain and the thud of something heavy—followed by a voice he knew.
Deep, rough, unmistakably familiar. A mer.
He froze, wine bowl halfway to his lips. The voices on the other side weren't just rambling drunks. These were soldiers. Mers.
One of them let out a curse, his words slurred but clear:
"Damn it, we lost the prince! Just vanished into thin fucking air!"
Guilin's spine stiffened.
Another voice answered with a bitter snarl. "We should've never let that hybrid out of sight. That bastard's hiding him, I know it."
Guilin's fingers clenched around the wine bowl. His heart thudded violently in his chest. Hybrid… they're talking about Kui.
"Let's just kill him," a third mer spat. "Rip him to pieces. What does he think he is, anyway? Some hero? He's just a weakling. A filthy halfbreed trying to play knight."
The wine in Guilin's cup trembled, and so did his hands. Fury and dread surged through him in equal measure.
Another voice—this one more composed, almost bored—added, "I heard scouts found traces of them in the western forest. Broken branches, footprints, gill marks. The others are already combing the area. If they're still breathing, they won't be for long."
A sharp laugh followed. "We'll probably be sent out there too. Can't wait. Been too long since I gutted something that screams."
Guilin's blood ran cold.
His hand crushed the fragile rim of the wine bowl, shards digging into his palm—but he didn't feel it. The only thing pounding through his head was one thought, over and over again:
They're going after Kui. They're going to hurt him.
No. No, no, no. I won't let that happen. I won't—
He shoved aside the low table in front of him, the heavy lacquered wood scraping loudly across the floor. It didn't matter anymore if they heard. He was already on his feet.
His legs were unsteady from the wine, but the fire inside sobered him faster than anything else could have.
The servers in the hallway gasped as he stormed out of the private room, his robe half open, his eyes blazing. He didn't stop. Didn't slow down.
I let him go once… but that boy… no—Kui—he's not just some stray I took in.
His fists trembled as he burst through the winehouse doors and into the night air.
He's mine to protect.
He turned sharply toward the west, toward the forest.
And if they want him…
They'll have to go through me.