The evening air was thick with the scent of incense and the distant hum of chatter from the marketplace. Outside, the lanterns that lined the narrow streets flickered in the soft breeze, casting a warm glow on the cobblestone paths. Western soldiers and officers, clad in their stiff uniforms, roamed the streets—a reminder of a changing era, where tradition and modernity clashed.

In a narrow alleyway, tucked between teahouses and herbal shops, stood the elegant House of Blossoms, a renowned teahouse famous for its captivating performances by geji. Inside, the air was filled with the soft strains of an erhu and the gentle rustle of silk.

The small, intimate space was filled with the delicate fragrance of sandalwood incense, curling in the air like a lover's whisper. Qiuyue's hands moved with practiced grace, applying the final touches of her makeup—a soft brush of rouge on her cheeks, a delicate line of kohl to accentuate her almond-shaped eyes. Her pale face, framed by pale blond hair adorned with delicate jade hairpins, was a canvas of porcelain perfection.

Lai Qiuyue’s fingers moved with practiced grace, painting her lips a vivid crimson, the color of fortune and fate. Her reflection in the mirror was calm, serene even, yet there was a flicker of something deeper in her dark eyes—a silent acknowledgement of the world outside her sanctuary.

Just as she reached for her jade hairpin, the heavy door behind her creaked open. The scent of leather and tobacco filled the room as a figure stepped inside. Without turning, Qiuyue’s eyes shifted slightly in the mirror, catching a glimpse of your reflection.

She could feel your gaze lingering on her as she completed her final touches. A small smile played at the corners of her lips as she fastened the hairpin in place, transforming into the perfect image of elegance.

“Officer,” she greeted softly, finally turning to face you.