“Are you sure they’ll use that same storage room?” Ji Bingxue asked. “They’ve used other storage rooms before.”
“Only because they didn’t have a choice,” Hong Xin said. “Over the past twenty years, they’ve collected seventeen batches of souls. They’ve used this room all but two times, and that was only because of regular maintenance. Maintenance isn’t due on the rooms for another three years, so they’ll use their main one. They prefer it because it’s warded with ample protective formations. It’s also deep within the temple, so their forces can respond at a moment’s notice.”
“I’m only saying that we should consider the possibility,” Ji Bingxue said.
“We have backup plans to infiltrate the secondary storage room,” Hong Xin said. “They’ve never used a third.”
“I agree with the headmistress,” Bai Ling said. “The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.”
Ji Bingxue rolled her eyes. “I just think they might change things up this time. What if our people let something slip?”
“Impossible,” Hong Xin said. “They’ve been charmed by the best of us, and they’re all low-level and mid-level servants. They aren’t important enough to be bound by strict oaths. Besides, what can they say when they don’t even know they work for us?”
“Fair. To be honest, I’m more worried about the last piece of the puzzle,” Ji Bingxue said. “Will he cooperate?”
“He should,” Hong Xin said. “Worst case, I’ll… He should.”
“There’s just a lot riding on this,” Ji Bingxue said. “If we have to pay a certain price to get his help, I’m willing to pay it.”
Hong Xin rolled her eyes. “Still upset that he isn’t fawning over you like everyone else is?”
“Not upset, just disappointed,” Ji Bingxue said, pouting cutely like she did with some of their customers. Both Hong Xin and Bai Ling were immune to such charms.
Hong Xin looked up at the clock, whose hands showed just a half hour remained before his arrival. “We’ll know if he’ll help soon enough. If not, we’ll just find another way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to put my face on.”
The two women left Hong Xin in her study. She ran her finger along the wall where a hidden vanity mirror was located. Runic paints and powders, essential tools for glamour arts, lay in front of it. Sighing, she picked up a brush and began applying a coat of plain makeup.
The first layer she put on was blank, as no one could wear two faces at the same time. Concealing her prior appearance was necessary as a foundation for the second. Once she looked as plain as plain could be, she picked up a thin brush and dipped it in a golden ink pot. It flowed across her face as she gave it structure. The many runes she inscribed caused the bones of her façade to distort and move around, thinning in some places and thickening in others.
Texture came second. She picked up a brush with brown ink and adjusted the softness of her skin, adding wrinkles where required and smoothing it out where not. She then used green ink to breathe life into her painting and blue runes that caused others’ eyes to flow over her face, barely remembering her features after they saw them.
Finally, she painted red. Red was the color of passion, emotions, and desire. It was the detail in a masterpiece painting. A slight reddening of her cheeks and cherry lips. These small things accented all her other beautiful features. They also gave a familiar feeling to those who saw them.
It was a pity she couldn’t show her real face. While it wasn’t as pretty, it wasn’t the lie she wore day in and day out. Unfortunately, that lie protected her friends and family. It also protected the careful game she played with Wang Jun. She’d gone this far without giving away her identity, and she wouldn’t unless she had no choice in the matter.
Hong Xin fastened her hair with a red pin and donned her beautiful red-and-gold robes. She then picked out a red fan with mauve highlights. The door opened just as she finished. It was Bai Ling.
“He’s here,” Bai Ling said.
Hong Xin nodded.
“Give me five minutes and then let him in,” Hong Xin said.
Bai Ling nodded and retreated, leaving Hong Xin to agonize over the most difficult task: choosing which tea to brew.
“Not bad,” Wang Jun said as he sipped at his cup of tea. “Sea God’s Wrath, aged twenty-six years. A good year.”
It wasn’t actually a good year, and the tea was terrible, but sometimes it was poor form to tell the truth. Something about the choice seemed desperate to impress him, something he found ridiculous since the person in question was the headmistress of the Red Dust Pavilion. Countless men would fight over her with a snap of her fingers.
“The date of the exchange has been finalized,” Hong Xin said. “This year’s order is particularly large. You may do what you wish with this information—anything except interrupt the exchange. It’s vital for us that it goes through.”
Wang Jun nodded slowly. He accepted the folio from across the tea table and reviewed the information. He frowned when he saw much additional information. Things related to noble families and merchant houses. Helpful things, but gratuitous. She’d been doing this for a while now.
“This is exactly what I was looking for,” Wang Jun said. “As for the rest of this information, I confess myself confused. It’s outside the scope of our agreement, and the Red Dust Pavilion isn’t usually known for its generosity.” He didn’t like free things. Nothing was ever truly free.
“We exchanged information for a peak-core-grade concealment treasure,” the headmistress said. “We still want it, of course, but we were wondering if you could obtain another seven such treasures for us.”
He frowned.
“They don’t need to hide people, only objects.”
His brow relaxed.
“You know this information isn’t worth that much,” Wang Jun said. “Nor is the rest of the information you’ve slipped my way over the years.”
“Then tell me
