Chapter 760 --760

Chapter 760: Chapter-760

And then, right on the heels of that icy shock, the heart of the fragrance bloomed.

As the alcohol vanished into the humid dusk air, the deep, intoxicating soul of aged agarwood, warm white sandalwood, and crushed golden osmanthus unfurled between the brick walls. Because there wasn’t a single drop of heavy pig lard or sesame oil trapping the scent, it didn’t smell thick, cloying, or cheap. It smelled weightless. Haunting. Like standing beneath a moonlit osmanthus tree in an imperial garden just after the first autumn snow, catching the elusive scent of a high-born immortal’s robes passing in the dark. 𝖿𝖗ⅇℴ𝑚

One of the thugs by the wall involuntarily let out a low, dazed groan, her grip loosening on her wooden cudgel as she leaned her head forward to suck in another greedy breath of the air.

Three-Fingers Qiu wasn’t an ignorant street rat. She had spent twenty years guarding the back doors of the capital’s wealthiest pleasure houses. She had smelled every five-tael jar of floral balm, every ten-tael cake of pressed musk, and every rare spice shipped up the Grand Canal for the noble matriarchs.

She had never smelled anything like this in her entire life.

Compared to the single drop clinging to Heena’s fingertip, the expensive peony-and-lard ointments the courtesans upstairs were currently smearing onto their necks smelled like rancid butcher-shop drippings.

Slowly, smoothly, before Qiu could take a second breath to dissect the notes, Heena pushed the wooden cork firmly back into the neck of the porcelain vial with a soft thud.

She tucked the tiny bottle back into the dark folds of her cloak and took a casual step toward the street entrance, resting her hand lightly on Ren’s veiled arm.

"A pity the clock ran out," Heena murmured, not even bothering to look back over her shoulder. "Come along, Ren. Let’s walk fifty paces to the left and see if the Madam of the Whispering Willows cares what day of the week it is."

"Hold it right there!"

The bark tore out of Qiu’s throat so fast her voice cracked.

The heavy iron wrench clattered onto the top of the wooden barrel as Qiu lunged forward two steps, her scarred hand shooting out to block the narrow passage—though she stopped carefully a foot short of actually touching Heena’s cloak, her sharp eyes darting briefly to Ren’s hidden sleeves before locking onto the bulge in Heena’s pocket.

Up in the air, the System was grinning from ear to ear, doing a slow-motion backflip off the brick wall. "Hook, line, and sinker! Look at her pupils, Host—she looks like a stray cat that just smelled roasted salmon!"

Heena stopped. Slowly, she turned her head, looking at the scarred gatekeeper from beneath the shadow of her black hood with an expression of mild, aristocratic impatience.

"Is there a problem, Qiu?" Heena asked coolly. "You made the rules of the underworld very clear a moment ago. A promise is a promise, the window closed thirty-six hours ago, and the deal is dead. I am graciously getting out of your lane so I don’t offend your strict sense of punctuality."

Qiu’s scarred cheek twitched violently. She swallowed hard, her pride warring briefly with the terrifyingly obvious financial reality hovering right in front of her nose—and losing in less than a second.

"Did I say the fourth day didn’t count?" Qiu rasped, forcing an ugly, crooked grin onto her face as she rubbed her three-fingered hand against her vest. "Come on now, little boss, don’t be so touchy! Everyone in the东 market knows you spent yesterday afternoon cracking skulls in the south alley and coughing up blood on Old Lady Lin’s table! In our line of work, medical delays from fighting off guild thugs don’t count against the clock! As far as I’m concerned, you’re two hours early!"

Behind the double layer of black gauze, Ren had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. In less than ten seconds, using nothing more than a drop of scented alcohol and three sentences, this half-crippled girl had made the most notorious gatekeeper in the south avenue completely eat her own words.

Heena didn’t smile. She turned back around to face Qiu squarely, her posture regal and unhurried.

"How generous of you to recalculate," Heena drawled softly. "However, my medical delay was rather expensive. The herbs required to keep me breathing cost a small fortune... which means the sixty-forty split we discussed four days ago no longer covers my overhead." ℯ

Qiu’s eyes narrowed, her street-shark instincts snapping back to attention even as the lingering phantom of frost-and-osmanthus teased her nostrils. "How much are you talking about, girl? Don’t get greedy just because you brewed something new."

Heena tapped a pale finger lightly against the padded wooden medicine box strapped across Ren’s chest.

"Inside this box are two finished vessels," Heena said, her quiet voice carrying clearly to the iron-bound back door of the pavilion. "One is a bottle of that spirit—what I call Winter Moon. A single drop behind the ear lasts from dusk until dawn without leaving a speck of grease on silk collars. The second is a jar of medicinal pearl-and-rice face powder so fine it melts invisible into the skin, covers every blemish, and actively cures the white-lead sores rotting your boys’ faces."

Qiu’s breath hitched. She knew better than anyone how many top courtesans upstairs were secretly weeping over the pus-filled lead ulcers ruining their cheeks once they washed their paint off at dawn.

"You can take the sample vial in my hand upstairs to the Madam of the Crimson Lotus right now," Heena stated, her dark eyes locking dead onto Qiu’s. "Let her smell it. Let her test a pinch of the powder from the rim. If she wants the two full containers in my attendant’s box—and a seven-day promise that I will not sell a single drop to the Whispering Willows next door—the buyout price for tonight’s batch is one hundred and fifty silver taels."

"One hundred and fifty taels?!" one of the thugs by the wall blurted out in shock. "For two tiny bottles?! You could buy two living men for that much silver!"

Heena didn’t even spare the thug a glance, keeping her gaze fixed entirely on Qiu.

"A living courtesan without a crowd is just another mouth to feed," Heena replied coldly. "Tonight is the fifth of the month—the night the Western Silk Consortium holds their drinking banquet on this avenue. Whichever house puts Winter Moon on their top star tonight takes every single high-paying matriarch on the street. And since I interrupted your evening... I will give you thirty silver taels out of that hundred and fifty as your personal finder’s fee."

Thirty silver taels. For walking up two flights of stairs.

That was more silver than Three-Fingers Qiu made in four months of guarding the alley.

Any lingering thought in Qiu’s mind about robbing the girl vanished instantly. Why kill the goose for two bottles when the goose was casually tossing thirty taels at her feet just to play courier—and was the only person in the empire who knew how to brew it?

Qiu extended her scarred, three-fingered hand, palm up, her eyes gleaming like polished brass in the dark.

"Give me the sample bottle," Qiu growled, jerking her chin toward her three thugs. "You three—stand at the mouth of the lane and watch the street! If a single fly buzzes near the little boss or her servant while I’m upstairs talking to the Madam, I’ll skin you alive! Wait right here—I’ll be back in the time it takes to pour three cups of tea!"