Chapter Fourteen: Bathed in Pure Waters, Yet Bewitching

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Nine o’clock was the busiest hour at the club, when business usually boomed. Yet tonight, Green Peak Club had closed early, leaving a host of disappointed gourmets grumbling at the doors. Upon inquiry, they discovered that someone had reserved the entire club. The diners cursed in frustration—what sort of bastard would have the gall to monopolize the whole place?

In truth, anyone with a bit of savvy would sense something odd. Rather than a simple private reservation, it seemed more like the club’s owner was clearing the place for another purpose.

Night had fallen when a deep yellow Lamborghini came roaring across the distance, the engine’s thunder slicing through the air. Anyone with a knowledge of cars could tell the vehicle was moving at least three hundred kilometers an hour. In a city like Shanghai, where dragons and tigers hide, only a fool or someone with formidable backing would dare such recklessness.

The Lamborghini hurtled toward the club without slowing, only slamming on the brakes a mere ten meters from the entrance with a casual abruptness. The four wheels locked instantly, the car veering wildly. Just as onlookers thought it would crash into the front doors, it screeched to a halt on the very edge of the steps, barely ten centimeters away.

Those outside the club who had yet to leave stared in stunned awe; such skill bordered on the supernatural, almost unbelievable.

What shocked them even more was the driver who stepped out—a woman. Illuminated by the city lights, she exuded an exquisite grace, clad in a retro Tang dynasty tunic, her delicate curves half-veiled in soft, enigmatic fabric. Her side-swept bangs obscured most of her face, but even so, one could guess at her breathtaking beauty.

She wore smoky makeup, which might have looked garish on anyone else, but on her, it complemented her features like the ink strokes of an antique painting.

But it was her tattoos that drew the most attention—intricate black patterns winding up to her neck and shoulders. These designs only heightened the delicate allure of her skin. As for the true nature of the tattoo, perhaps only one person in the world truly knew: it was an outrageously bold blue lotus.

She seemed as if she had stepped out of a landscape scroll, a mysterious work of art come to life.

And yet, in her hand, she wielded a kitchen knife.

As soon as she appeared, attendants formed an honor guard and escorted her into the club.

This woman was none other than the notorious “Madam Lotus,” leader of the Black Lotus Society. Those unfamiliar with her might imagine an aged woman, but in fact, she was only twenty-five, in the prime of her womanhood.

At this age, she was like a fully ripe cherry—squeeze her gently and she would yield the freshest juice.

Her face was frosty with displeasure; she had been enjoying the pleasures of cooking at home when she’d heard someone was causing trouble at the club. No wonder her mood was foul—she’d come straight over, kitchen knife in hand. For her, anything could be a weapon.

“Where is he? I’ll cut him down!”

Several muscular men were beside themselves with excitement, even the venerable Third Master, approaching his sixtieth year, could not remain unaffected. He had been hoping and waiting for Madam Lotus to appear; now, even if it pained him, he wanted to witness the fate of the troublemaker.

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When the group pushed open the door, Xiao Cheng was savoring a small bowl of caviar. Caviar, he knew, demanded slow, deliberate tasting to appreciate its full flavor.

As the door swung open, Xiao Cheng looked up at the striking woman before him and muttered inwardly, “What a little devil.” Then, unhurried, he said, “No cutting today.”

“Who are you?” Lotus blurted out in surprise, lapsing into her native Sichuan dialect. Indeed, as Xiao Cheng said, he could not be cut—if she did, she’d live up to her infamous nickname.

“Who is he?” Third Master’s expression froze. Judging by Lotus’s reaction, it was clear she not only recognized Xiao Cheng, but their relationship ran deep.

“He’s your elder!” Lotus shot back with annoyance.

Third Master’s eyes widened. Others might think Lotus was hurling insults, but he understood—this was no mere curse.

The Lotus Society had always had a mysterious “Elder,” but he had never appeared publicly. Neither he nor Second Master had ever met him; perhaps only Lotus herself knew his identity. But he’d never imagined the Elder would be so young, barely twenty by appearance. Yet, his skills were undeniable—neither he nor Second Master could match him.

Lotus, sensing her words might be misunderstood, added, “He’s my man.”

A hush fell, so deep only breathing could be heard. Those crowding behind her felt their minds go blank. My God—not only was this the Elder, but also Lotus’s lover. Just moments ago, they had been plotting with Qiao Yifeng to drug the Elder’s—now revealed as Lotus’s—lover’s wife.

Had it not been for Third Master’s seasoned nerves, he might have dropped dead on the spot from a stroke or heart attack at the shock.

…

Once the door was closed, Lotus transformed entirely. Gone was the formidable leader of the Lotus Society; now she was a woman brimming with sultry allure.

“What brings you here? Missing your big sister?” Lotus laughed softly, her every move radiating charm as she slipped off her sheer outer robe.

Xiao Cheng gazed at this woman, both familiar and strange. Dressed in retro Tang attire, she looked as if she had stepped from the pages of a classical romance.

The diaphanous robe drifted to the floor, revealing her flawless figure to the soft lamplight—her skin luminous and enticing beyond words.

He stared for a moment, dazed. As Lotus had said, he was indeed her man. Theirs was a long, melodramatic, and cliché tale, but at its core, it boiled down to a single sentence: When he was twelve and she nineteen, they had taken each other’s innocence.

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Back then, Lotus was on the run for her life. Xiao Cheng had saved her by chance, and for reasons he could not understand at the time, she had agreed to his request. Only after suffering the annihilation of his own clan did Xiao Cheng understand the despair she must have felt.

It was the hopeless surrender of someone who had lost everything, and Xiao Cheng had simply happened to catch her at her lowest.

Her father’s debts had brought vengeance upon them; her mother was killed as they fled, and by chance, Xiao Cheng became her savior—thus all that followed.

For a scion of a great family, losing his virginity at such a young age was not uncommon, but Xiao Cheng was a cultivator who practiced the art of purity. His foundation, built up to the fifth level, was utterly destroyed as a result.

Yet their intimacy had only happened that once. Afterward, Lotus never agreed to another such encounter. Still, when Xiao Cheng’s own family was wiped out, it was she who brought a helicopter to spirit him out of Shanghai.

Earlier, when Third Master had mentioned the notorious “Madam Lotus,” Xiao Cheng never imagined it referred to her. Though they had a “close relationship,” he had rarely interacted with her directly.

It wasn’t until he saw her in person that he realized the infamous “Madam Lotus” was none other than Zhuo Qinglian.

“I’m here with my sister-in-law for a business meeting. I didn’t expect your people to collude with the Qiao family and set her up…” Xiao Cheng’s voice trailed off, for Lotus was drawing closer with every step.

As she reached him, she flashed a smile brimming with allure.

Even though Xiao Cheng had seen her before, he couldn’t help but sigh at her beauty—truly a rare gem in the mortal world.

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