Chapter 1: Enchantress
Dawn filtered quietly through the cracks of the small window, yet within the chamber, the brilliance of candlelight rendered its gentle glow colorless. In the hall, painted screens stood as partitions, and sandalwood incense, warmed by the flames, released tendrils of fragrance that suffused the air, carrying with them a hint of temple-like serenity. It ought to have been a beautiful morning, yet Liu Chuyan found herself bound to a large bed, terror in her eyes as he drew slowly closer.
Two months prior, Zhao Panyu had forcibly taken her as a concubine. She had resolved herself to accept fate—after all, Zhao was a capable man, and his affection for her was genuine. But fate took a cruel turn: On the wedding night itself, Zhao Panyu, Prefect of Shuntian, was suddenly imprisoned due to upheaval at court. That very night, Zhao’s first wife had Liu Chuyan spirited away to this unfamiliar compound, where she heard the maids outside refer to the master of the house as "His Excellency Ninth Thousand."
The man before her was none other than Wei Wuliang, notorious throughout the land—a eunuch wielding power second only to the Emperor. Though emasculated, he was the true authority behind the throne, aided by Lady Fengxian, the Emperor’s nursemaid and his confidante. The young and feckless Emperor Zhu Youdun devoted his days to carpentry and construction, leaving all matters of state to Wei Wuliang’s ruthless discretion.
“My little darling, you are truly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Wei Wuliang murmured, retrieving a porcelain bottle from the desk. Pouring out a clear liquid, he smeared it across his hands and leaned close, reaching beneath her thin garment.
The heat of his palms burned against Liu Chuyan’s skin, making her shudder and bite her lip, turning away in silent resistance. The room was filled with obscene sculptures, rare erotic paintings hung from the walls, and the shelves brimmed with salacious texts—she could avoid the lecher, but not the lechery itself. With nowhere to escape, she could only close her eyes.
Stripped of his manhood, Wei Wuliang was obsessed with such acts, relentless as an ox. Since her arrival, each day brought new and more shocking methods of pleasure-seeking; no matter how outrageous, nothing deterred him from pursuing his twisted amusements at her expense.
Liu Chuyan had thought she could endure his humiliations, but under his bizarre and depraved whims, her resolve crumbled. Death seemed her only escape, yet he assigned three or more strong matrons to watch her day and night; any sign of self-harm, and they forced narcotics upon her. Once, he had even shattered her jaw to stop her from biting her tongue.
“Wei Wuliang, let me die…” Liu Chuyan’s chest heaved, her breath quickening under the influence of incense. Since he could not relieve her, each time he tormented her to the brink, he would stop, leaving her writhing in agony on the bed while he watched, delighted in her suffering—a torment worse than death, yet death denied.
She’d pleaded for death countless times, but never had her words enraged him so.
The day before, the Emperor had dared defy him on the advice of that wretch Xue Ao. Wei Wuliang had raged all night, unable to devise a solution. Now, seeking diversion, he found this woman—so blind to her own survival—testing his patience once more.
“Bring the wax candles.”
“Yes, sir.” At once, a servant rushed out and returned, placing two candles in Wei Wuliang’s hands. The flames flickered a brief, lively dance.
“Little darling, you’re being very naughty today. How about I paint a flower on your stomach?”
Dripping wax had become Wei Wuliang’s favorite torment. He found a savage beauty in it, and the sight of Liu Chuyan biting her lip in helplessness gave him the utmost visual pleasure. Occasionally, he would even feel a faint stirring below.
“If only you would serve me properly, I would treat you well in return,” Wei Wuliang said with a smile, feigning a slip of his hand. Hot wax fell in droplets, scalding her pale abdomen red. The last time he’d cut her there with a knife, he’d been too forceful; the scar still hadn’t faded, making the sight all the more grotesque. His hand trembled, and the wax traced a path down the scar.
“Wei Wuliang, you coward! Is tormenting women all you’re good for?” Liu Chuyan’s lower belly burned, pain searing deeper into her heart until she finally screamed, cursing him, “You’re a eunuch and a butcher, slaying loyal ministers and exterminating their clans!”
“You’ll go to the eighteenth level of hell!”
“Heaven will judge you!”
“Shut up!” Furious, Wei Wuliang snatched a whip from the side. Finding it too thin, he ordered a thicker one, then lashed her again and again.
Her fair skin was instantly marked with red welts. The whip, made of special ox tendon, left no wounds, only livid stripes.
“Better for you to kill me! Even as a ghost, I’ll haunt you!” If she could goad him into killing her, even hell would be preferable to this.
“I won’t let you die. I still have use for—”
“Your Excellency, Prefect Zhou Boqing requests an audience.”
The sudden report interrupted him. Wei Wuliang halted, then laughed. “Let him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Liu Chuyan’s whole body throbbed with pain. She glared hatefully at Wei Wuliang’s back as the door opened and closed, admitting a man in an official robe of crimson and black brocade, belted with jade and gold. He strode forward with measured steps and bowed: “Your servant pays respect to Your Excellency.” This was Zhou Boqing, Prefect of Shuntian, outwardly a paragon of virtue, but in truth, Wei Wuliang’s accomplice. After Zhao Panyu’s fall, Zhou had taken his place, overseeing the security of Jinling.
“So, you’ve heard what that cur Xue Ao has done?” Wei Wuliang asked.
“I have, Your Excellency.”
“And you know what to do?”
“Yes.” Zhou Boqing made a throat-slitting gesture, but his eyes drifted toward the bed. Liu Chuyan’s maiden’s mark was still visible on her arm—how strange. Then he remembered Wei Wuliang’s incapacity and understood. To see but not to possess—how pitiful, he thought, though his face remained reverent.
Wei Wuliang was pleased by his attitude, squinting approvingly. “That one was sent by Zhao Panyu’s household. Zhao fell into Xue Ao’s trap, implicated in a corruption case from two years ago, and was jailed last month. That night, Madam Wu sent me this beauty—indeed lovely, but not at all obedient.”
“But Zhao Panyu is still in prison. Do you intend to save him? With Xue Ao in the way, it won’t be easy,” Zhou Boqing ventured, glancing again at the bed.
“Zhao Panyu sealed his own fate. It’s nothing to do with me. His family’s gift was too tempting to refuse, so I accepted.”
“Truly wise, Your Excellency.” At that moment, Liu Chuyan lay naked and splayed on the bed. Her body bore few unmarred spots, but her arms were smooth as lotus roots, her waist slender as silk. The sight made Zhou Boqing’s throat tighten, his body respond.
Wei Wuliang, treating Zhou as a confidant, allowed him to look his fill. In truth, he needed Zhou’s services more than ever. Rubbing his chin, he asked, “Do you like her? Then take her.”
“I wouldn’t dare. She is your cherished favorite—how could I presume?” Zhou replied.
“She was an unremarkable concubine for Zhao Panyu. Here, she is no more than a plaything. If you like, take her for a few days.” With a wave, he summoned the matrons, who wiped Liu Chuyan down, bundled her in a cloak, and carried her away. “Take this beauty to Prefect Zhou’s villa. Guard her well; don’t let her die, and don’t let Madam Zhou find out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zhou Boqing was grateful for such consideration—he dreaded what his fierce wife would do if she ever learned. Liu Chuyan, once forced into concubinage by Zhao Panyu, then reduced to Wei Wuliang’s plaything, now faced yet another master. She laughed coldly as she was blindfolded and taken to an elegant little courtyard.
Bruised and whipped, she was treated differently by Zhou Boqing, who at least pretended to cherish her. He even had a physician attend her for two days, waiting until her wounds had scabbed before approaching.
“Delicate beauty, you are truly exquisite.” Fully aware of her suicidal tendencies, Zhou did not release her bonds. Instead, he manacled her ankles to the bed, then stripped her and admired her wounded form.
“Such a beauty—how could he bear to harm you? If it were me, I’d cherish you, never let you suffer,” he whispered, caressing her from head to foot, indulging his own desires twice before he was done.
“Delicate beauty, if I were to present you to the Emperor, he would surely be pleased. But I must wait until your scars have faded. Still a maiden, aren’t you? I’ll keep you for half a month and train you first—you’ll become so skilled, no man will resist. Later, you can serve the Emperor for me, hmm?” Leering, he pretended gentleness, making Liu Chuyan nearly retch.
“Delicate beauty, I like you, and the Emperor will like you even more… ha ha…” Zhou Boqing chortled, already loosening his belt as he dreamed of his plans.
His laughter was abruptly interrupted as the door burst open. In stormed a woman, broad as she was tall, draped in thick fur, red blouse clashing with green trousers—far plainer than any village girl. This was Madam Ye, Zhou’s wife, niece to Wei Wuliang and connected to the Minister of Justice. Zhou’s rapid rise owed everything to such connections. She was as large as an ox and twice as fierce; with a flick of her hand, she lashed him twice with a whip.
“So, Zhou Boqing, you dare keep a woman behind my back? Are you tired of living?”
“Ah—Madam, no, it’s not what you think…” Zhou had thought this villa, a gift from Wei Wuliang, was well hidden, never expecting her to find it. He stammered in terror, “She’s just a maid sent by His Excellency, a maid, nothing more…”
“A maid? What kind of maid lies naked in your bed? Well, explain yourself!” Madam Zhou struck him again, tearing his underclothes and leaving three bloody welts. She advanced on him, grabbed Liu Chuyan’s jaw and squeezed hard. “So this is the woman you found? Quite pretty, isn’t she?”
“No, Madam, truly, she’s just a maid sent by His Excellency—” Zhou crawled forward, pleading. Before he could finish, she slapped him hard, sending him sprawling to the floor.