“You must be Miss Hong Yao of Rouge Pavilion. Your reputation precedes you.”
Rouge Pavilion was the top brothel along the Qinjiang River, and it owed its reputation to Hong Yao, its most successful prostitute. She was talented at entertaining men and she was also stunningly beautiful. Even Jiang Chao had to admit that she was gorgeous.
But her beauty could not erase the fact that she was a shameless prostitute.
A light seemed to go out in Hong Yao’s eyes as her smile wavered ever-so-slightly at the open ridicule and disdain in Jiang Chao’s eyes. She leaned against a table and began fanning herself.
“My dear sisters, stand aside, make way for these soldiers and officers, they have a search to conduct. Oh, I nearly forgot—we should take out the things hidden under our clothes, too, to make it easier for them to do their job.” She tugged at the cheongsam she was wearing; all at once, the men around her turned to ogle her. She could hear someone swallow heavily.
Men— they were all the same.
She was still fully clothed, but the way she moved and the look in her eyes was more than enough to send the men around her into a lecherous mood. She was a natural at seduction; the men could barely restrain themselves from pouncing on her and tearing her clothes off.
Jiang Chao gave another signal, and his soldiers promptly marched upstairs. Jiang Chao, however, stayed behind. He did not move.
Hong Yao continued to fan herself. She took in the sight of the man standing before her: the military uniform, the square jaw, and the thin, slight scar on his temple.
She kept her red lips curved in a careless, disinterested smile. But there was something else hidden within that smile—something no one could detect or understand.
From time to time, the soldiers upstairs could be heard rummaging through cabinets, pushing things over, and breaking God-knows-what.
Madame Huang could not stop twisting her handkerchief in anxiety. It pained her to listen to the soldiers wreck the place. No, it was too much, it was killing her inside. She wailed inwardly: every stalk of flower in the building, every table, every chair, every cup, every mosquito— yes, mosquito— were worth gold and silver.
It sounded incredible, but Madame Huang truly believed that Hong Yao could turn even the mosquitoes in Rouge Pavilion into gold.
She could not bear to think of their losses.
Hong Yao was still leaning against the table with her exquisite red lips in a small, pretty pout. She smiled at Jiang Chao every once in a while—the smile was both seductive and challenging.
“Cut. That’s a wrap.”
Director Jin raised his hand, signaling to the cameraman to stop filming. Today’s shoot had been extremely successful; all of the scenes had required only a single take.
“That was fantastic, I enjoy working with you.” Qi Haolin extended his hand towards Yan Huan. “You’re an amazing actress— you set the pace, and I was already in-character before I realized what was happening.”
“Oh no, that was all you. I learned a lot from your wonderful performance,” Yan Huan replied modestly as she took Qi Haolin’s hand and shook it. Qi Haolin realized that Yan Huan was not the talkative type, and gave her an understanding smile before leaving her alone.
He was truly grateful that Yan Huan was such a smart and competent actress. No one enjoyed having to redo scenes, after all. It was a waste of everyone’s time.
At noon, everyone took a short break to eat lunch, which consisted of just a simple lunchbox as they were pressed for time. The TV series was slated to go on air next March, which meant they had only a few months left to finish filming. But no one complained about the lackluster meal; they had all signed onto the project knowing what they were in for.