The madam's eyes sharpened at Tian Han's words. She leaned over the counter, and beckoned Fu Ran closer with a curled hand. "Qi meridians, eh? Let's see the damage, then."
Fu Ran hesitated. But he still stepped forward and rolled up his sleeves, revealing twisting bruises. They were dark, ugly tendrils snaking up his pale skin like ink spilled over parchment.
The madam's brows shot up, and she let out a low whistle. "Heavens, boy, what'd you tangle with? That's no ordinary scrape—looks like someone tried to rip your veins out by the roots."
"Then… you can't help?" He fought back an offended scoff, and tried to subtly pull back his arm without jostling the old woman.
The madam chuckled. "Oh, Lian'er can help. She is the best healer on this side of Jinan. She knows a cultivator's qi like it's her own breath. Though… she costs a little extra." She slid her gaze to Tian Han. "Your Highness knows the drill."
Tian Han sighed. "Tell her it's urgent. I'll pay whatever she's asking." He stated it so bluntly, but added a small plea. "Please."
The madam nodded, and then shuffled toward a curtained doorway. "Lian'er! His Highness has returned." She glanced back at Fu Ran, her grin returning. "Relax, dear. We don't bite much."
Fu Ran grimaced, but before he could retort, the lavender curtains rustled.
A trio of women squealed. They swept into the room like a gust of perfumed wind. Between the three of them, they wore almost every color imaginable: Purple silks, red sashes, painted lips curved into coy smiles.
They descended upon Tian Han with a familiarity that made Fu Ran shiver.
"Oh, Your Highness!" the first cried, her high ponytail swinging as she latched onto Tian Han's arm. "Back already? You just can't stay away, can you?"
"Li Mei, please," Tian Han said, his face tinting pink as he tried to free himself. "Not now. Ah—Qianqian, not you too!"
The second woman, presumably Qianqian, with her short-cropped hair and a mischievous glint, pressed against his other side. "Don't be shy! We've missed you terribly. Where is our little baby? Didn't bring him?"
Her bright eyes searched the space around Tian Han's legs.
Tian Han's brows pinched in a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. "Wan Yu is—" He tried to speak, but a third woman pushed her way closer to him too.
The third, Xi'er, based on Tian Han's snap of her name, draped her low-cut robes against him with a dramatic sigh. Her chest nearly spilled out as she pouted. "Oh, Your Highness, I beg you again! Only one night! Just one, and I'll never ask again!"
Her voice was a whine, but her eyes sparkled with delight. She looked like the type of woman to ask again the moment he relented regardless of what she said.
Fu Ran blinked, trying to process the scene.
Tian Han stood there, arms pinned by the giggling trio. He looked like a man caught in a storm he'd weathered too many times before. "Shizun," he managed, catching Fu Ran's eye with a pleading look, "it's not—"
"Don't explain," Fu Ran cut in. "I've seen enough."
The absurdity of it all! The Tyrant Emperor swarmed by cooing courtesans in a brothel—it would've been laughable if he weren't so tired. And yet, a flicker of something else stirred in his chest, a faint irritation he couldn't name.
He almost couldn't even share a glance with Tian Han like this.
A new voice echoed. Low, melodic, and edged with authority. "Enough, girls. Let him breathe."
The curtains parted fully, and a woman stepped out, her presence a stark contrast to the flurry of youth around Tian Han. Lian'er was older, her hair streaked with silver and pinned loosely. Her muted purple robes hung off her frame like a shroud of mist.
Her gaze swept over the room, landing on Fu Ran with an intensity that made him stiffen. "You're the cultivator," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "Come. Let's see what's broken."
Tian Han disentangled himself from the courtesans with a grateful nod, nudging Fu Ran forward. "Go on, Shizun. She's good—I promise." His hand lingered a moment on Fu Ran's lower back before ushering him into the main room.
Fu Ran followed Lian'er past the gaggle of giggling courtesans.
She led him towards the back of the main room, to a small alcove tucked behind a lavender curtain, its walls adorned with faded silk. A low table sat in the center, cluttered with jars of herbs and a single flickering lantern. She gestured for him to sit on a cushioned stool as she turned to rummage through her supplies.
"Arm out," she said, her voice clipped but not unkind. "Let's see what we're dealing with."
Fu Ran hesitated, then rolled up his sleeve. Lian'er's sharp gaze flicked over the injury, her lips thinning into a line. She set her pipe aside and leaned closer, her fingers hovering just above the marks.
"Deliberate," she muttered, almost to herself. "Someone didn't just block your qi—they damn near destroyed it. Just who have you angered, cultivator?"
Fu Ran's jaw tightened. "Just a thief…" He didn't elaborate. He couldn't, it was hardly something believable, but the name came out unintentional.
Lian'er raised a brow but didn't ask more. She pressed two fingers lightly against his wrist, and a faint warmth pulsed from her touch, probing his meridians. Fu Ran sucked in a breath as a sharp sting lanced through his arm. It was like a needle threading fire through his veins.
"Hold still," she said, her tone softening slightly. "This'll hurt before it helps."
Beyond the curtain, the courtesans' voices swelled, a chorus of delight that grated on Fu Ran's nerves. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Tian Han through the gap in the fabric. The Tyrant Emperor stood near the plush couches, arms pinned by Li Mei and Qianqian, while Xi'er circled him like a cat with a prize. Their laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained.
Fu Ran's brow twitched. He turned back to Lian'er, muttering, "Does he always attract this much… attention?"
Lian'er snorted, not looking up from his arm. "That boy's a magnet for trouble—and flattery. It's been that way since he first came in a year ago." Her fingers pressed harder, and Fu Ran hissed as the heat in his meridians flared. "Breathe through it," she added. "I'm trying to loosen the knots."
The warmth spread, tracing the bruised paths up his arm. It wasn't relief yet, just a shift from numbness to a throbbing ache. Fu Ran gritted his teeth, focusing on the sensation to drown out the courtesans' chatter.
But voices pierced through anyway.
Tian Han begged, half-pleading as he glanced toward the alcove. "Li Mei, let go—I need to check on Shizun."
The room stilled for a heartbeat, then erupted.
"Shizun?" Li Mei gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "You mean that Shizun?"
Qianqian's eyes widened, sparkling with recognition. "The one you're always talking about? The Peak Master with the pretty face but a sharp tongue?"
What? Fu Ran's attention snapped back to the girls.
Xi'er clapped her hands, practically bouncing. "Oh, it's him! You should have told us beforehand!"
Tian Han froze, his flush deepening to a rare scarlet. "I—I didn't say that!" He waved his hands like the action would dispel the words. "You're twisting things!"
Confusion cut through the pain in Fu Ran's arm. "What are they talking about?" he asked.
"Seems he's been singing your praises," Lian'er answered honestly.
Beyond the curtain, the courtesans swarmed Tian Han anew, their delight was purely palpable. Li Mei latched onto his arm again. "He's a cutie."
A shiver rushed up Fu Ran's spine like his bones had rattled.
"He doesn't look stubborn," Qianqian mused, peeking toward the alcove. "More… tired. Oh—But he had pretty eyes, just like you said!"
Tian Han groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Stop it—all of you! Shizun, don't listen to them!" His expression shifted back and forth from the girls to Fu Ran's table.
Fu Ran's attention was completely pulled away from the painful prodding of his arm. His face scrunched in dismay while watching Tian Han's blundering.
The Tyrant Emperor, the man he'd known for barely a month, spinning tales about him in a brothel? It was absurd, laughable even, except the courtesans' glee was too genuine and their recognition too specific.
How could he even have stories to tell? Fu Ran's thoughts churned.
He'd met Tian Han during the Bloody Entrance Exam, less than 30 days ago—hardly enough time to warrant this kind of familiarity.
His stomach twisted. Why? The question lodged in his chest, heavy as stone.
Brushing off Tian Han's strange behavior felt impossible, now. For the first time, it wasn't merely annoying. This time, Fu Ran felt concerned.
The ache in his arm flared as Lian'er pressed harder, and he winced, grounding himself in the pain. The heat only dulled slightly, and Lian'er pulled back, wiping her hands on her robes.
"That's all I can do for now," she said, her tone shifting to something graver. "Your meridians are a mess. I've loosened it a bit, but fixing it?" She shook her head. "That's beyond me. You'll need more than I can offer."
Fu Ran flexed his hand, testing. The numbness had receded, replaced by a faint tingle, but his spiritual energy still wouldn't flow. "So I'm stuck like this?" he asked, voice tight.
"For now," Lian'er said solemnly.
A few people immediately came to mind. Yi Yang for example, was well adapted to dealing with medical emergencies. Plus, he had years of cultivation experience, so he was likely to have seen injuries similar. Fu Ran shuttered for a different reason now. Monthly medical visits were troublesome.