It was a classy type of gaudy if such a thing was even possible. You walked across the stone bridge to reach the more scandalous parts of the vibrant city and found yourself in a different sort of wonderland. Ladies stood outside vivacious buildings, their effervescent enthusiasm filtering the atmosphere as they held onto men that passed and ushered them into the buildings. All around you cockroached men that wanted ‘a good time’ and music mingled with loud conversations that descended from the balconies and the entire place was just throbbing with life. Red lanterns hung along these statutes and ran its length down the district but it was one building that caught your eye with it bulbous lanterns dominating the rest.

Life was so much easier without long rolls of fabric to hold you back from the little luxuries in life: like walking too fast, or moving too gracelessly. You didn’t realised how much you had missed trousers until now when walking and even running was a breeze. With these bad boys, you scaled the wall in a matter of seconds. You need to oil up your skills because you were getting rusty.

You finally walked up to it, the people around you bustling along, some men already drunk and stumbling – you read the calligraphy sign intently. ‘Aphelion’ it wrote in black on the wooden board, but before you could admire the sign any longer and comprehend your surroundings, a lady caught onto your arm – gripping around your elbows and smiled suggestively.

“Sir, would you like to indulge for the night?” Her lipstick was full and a bold shade of scarlet.

Remembering that you were playing a male and was already running late, you smiled back at her. “I’d very much like to be spoiled.”

She giggled at your response, “Then come on in, sweetie. Welcome to the darkest side from the sun.” 

Tcht, playing the suave gent wasn’t that difficult after all. You smirked to yourself, a player’s grin upon your lips. It was nice to get out of that place once in a while, the girly overload was diluting your senses.

Round after round of alcohol was being called by the rowdy men sitting in the indoor pavilion. Inside, it was a large court-like structure with a wooden décor all around, leading to darker rooms nestled deep the complex.  In the open expanse were tables and tables, all circular and set out so that from a bird’s eye view, it looked like the men were small buds on a petalled flower. Girls clung to their arms, one on each side and they giggled recklessly, carelessly and music played along a mural-painted wall, girls on the stage dancing not in the graceful sort of way, but in sheer silks, revealing more skin than usually acceptable.

The girl led you inside but before she could take you further, you politely excused yourself, telling her that you were meeting a friend and she bowed reluctantly before leaving to resume her position at the front door. You looked around for a sign of the meeting and saw the iconic Crimson Lotus emblem, grinning inwardly to yourself. The girl had her hair piled high up on her head, revealing her collarbone and neck. Just below the collar of her robe, she harboured a single red paper lotus, folded imperviously, immaculately and she sat there with her tea, a silent man by her side, bearing the most peculiar set of sunglasses.

You made your way towards them, inconspicuously and she looked you dead in the eye. You returned her look and she smiled at you. “Good evening, Lady, Sir” you nodded respectively to the figures and stood near the table as they sat, the girl amused. She looked a little older than you, but had the charms of an old witch. “Evening.” She replied.

Now what followed was an enigmatic form of protocol. Crimson Lotus was such that it was held in high secrecy, it would be impossible to know how many people were part of the organisation and so there were strangers everywhere, even at the peak of this espionage. Nevertheless, in order to find out, the one thing to distinguish fellow accomplices from foes was that one needed to slip in a Buddhist idiom – seeing as the whole reason why the group was titled Crimson Lotus was the Buddhist concept of a lotus’s purity, sprouting out from the muddy depths, but blooming immaculately, pristine.

She looked at you with a suggestive smirk. “I’m sorry sir but if you’re looking for company, I’m afraid I’m not in the mood.” She looked to the man sitting next to her and he nodded, speaking up despite his darkened shades, “What she means to say is: watch how you flirt, she’s already taken.”

You looked at them, an expression of mock-shock on your face, “How rude of you to suggest that I would be interested in such a thing. If you’ve forgotten, I do believe we’re in a brothel and I can find company in cash and liquor.” You then smiled pleasantly at them, “I never thought myself to be the inappropriate type, for the highest good is like water which benefits all beings and does not compete with them (上善若水) and like water, I am expected to slip silently in and out of a certain meeting.” You then lowered yourself to their level, seated and the lady smiled broadly. So you asked her again, more blatantly this time: “Care to share in the details?”

“Well, young man. I do believe then, there is a particular room where you go specifically for flirting, infamous for its beauties. It’s on the third floor, at the end of the hall. Its rice-paper doors are painted with dragons, you couldn’t miss it. Knock thrice before you go in.”

After hearing her message, you bowed your head curtly, the man next to her paying you no attention – you couldn’t see his expression anyway because of those damned glasses and the lady took to her tea. You thanked her and politely excused yourself.

“Enjoy your night.” You said to them one last time and then left without another word.

It was difficult to find the stairs up to the higher levels. Every detail of the architecture in the brothel was so intricate, it completely derailed from your misconceptions of what a brothel was supposed to look like: tacky and unprofessional. But here, it was otherwise. The place was decorated richly, mirroring the extravagance of the palace with silk curtains and furnished designs. You finally found the stairs, wedged in at the back of the place behind a lot of drapery and scaled them quickly, two steps at a time. God knew how late you were by now.

It was really quiet at the top. Looking down at the commotion below, it felt almost lonely, like a Emperor ruling an empire and people he’d never know. Being at the top was a sad thing in itself and you wallowed in that misery for a while before you snapped back into business. You found the dragons and rapped your knuckles swiftly three times on the wooden panel beside the doors and almost immediately the door slid open.

Qi-yan stood in his usual attire, a sleeveless robe hanging loosely to reveal his bandaged chest and robe-pants, swords in their sheaths on his back. Two brawny men stood guard and they nodded to let you in. The people were arranged in two long rows, extending from the sides of Qi-yan and they sat crossed legged on the straw-matted floor. As soon as you took a step in, the doors were shut tightly behind you by the standing guards.

“And I see our guest of honour has finally arrived, fashionably late. What news?” He grinned cockily, gesturing for you to join him. There were people there that you had never met before but you walked coolly up to him. Being chosen as a member to infiltrate the palace had brought you up in ranks and so you walked with confidence between the columns of fellow accomplices.

Upon reaching him, you smirked. “Did you miss me?”