MCSCPM -Chapter 179 The Greater the Distance

Inside the brothel:

Miss Qingqing sat elegantly at the table, waiting for Yin Qingyue to arrive.

“Miss, your guest has arrived.”

“Let her in.”

Yin Qingyue entered, dressed plainly and wearing makeup to hide her features, moving slowly toward the table.

“Miss Qingqing, I’ve long admired your reputation,” Yin Qingyue said coldly. Even a mere woman surviving in a brothel to this degree was no small feat.

“Brew a pot of the finest Longjing tea.”

“Please, sit.”

Qingqing’s gaze never left Yin Qingyue. She studied her carefully but found nothing remarkable—except that her appearance was ugly, she could see no other attraction.

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you,” Qingqing said directly.

“Ask away,” Yin Qingyue replied calmly, lifting her teacup. Immediately, the aroma of tea filled the room.

“This is top-grade Longjing, superior to Minmin Xiang. Just a sip and the whole room will be fragrant. What does sister think of the taste?” Qingqing said with a smile, though her thoughts were elsewhere.

This Longjing was Prince Jing’s favorite. If Yin Qingyue didn’t know that, it proved she had no connection with him.

“Miss Qingqing, you’re too polite. We’re not acquainted, so don’t call me sister. This tea is extremely rare—probably only the emperor himself could enjoy it,” Yin Qingyue said.

Qingqing was shocked. Every word was correct—the tea had been a gift from Prince Jing. Though casually given, it was precious to her. Even in the entire Beihao, and even within the palace, it was extremely rare. Longjing could only grow in Beihao’s climate.

Unbeknownst to her, Yin Qingyue’s words were mere speculation, repeating what Nanny Lai had said. Years ago, Nanny Lai had invited her to the temple with a similar aura. If not for the tea, Qingqing would not have cared so much.

“Miss Qingqing’s tea is exquisite. To taste it is my honor,” Yin Qingyue said with a smile.

“You flatter me. Being with Prince Jing is your true fortune—something countless women in Beihao dream of,” Qingqing replied, a flicker of anger passing her eyes, quickly vanishing.

Yin Qingyue snorted coldly. “Prince Jing?”

Chu Jingcheng, even in Xize, was admired by all ages. Now, even Beihao’s famous Miss Qingqing could not escape this.

Qingqing laughed lightly. “You came today, not for Prince Jing?”

“I came out of curiosity. What exactly is your relationship with him? Is he really your ‘honored guest’?” Yin Qingyue’s lips curled into a cold smile.

Qingqing frowned, then smiled, letting out a silver-bell-like laugh. “Do you think so?”

“I don’t have time to debate this. Answer yes or no,” Yin Qingyue said, setting down her cup.

“If bored, you may leave,” Qingqing replied lightly.

Yin Qingyue chuckled. “Very well.”

“Escort her downstairs!” Qingqing said with a smile. She felt what she had seen before was merely a misunderstanding—Prince Jing had nothing to do with this woman.

Yet Qingqing suddenly felt sorrowful. Over the years, countless nobles had fallen at her feet, but Chu Jingcheng had always treated her as a mere pawn.

She remembered clearly fifteen years ago:

Born into poverty, her father died early, and she had grown up with her mother, relying on each other. When her mother fell gravely ill and passed away, her family didn’t even have money for a burial.

She chose to sell herself to pay for her mother’s funeral. At that time, she was pale and emaciated, ignored by passersby. She waited for buyers for days with no one coming, some even looking at her coldly—until Chu Jingcheng appeared.

Weak from exhaustion, she had fainted. He had his men carry her home, gave her money to bury her mother, even provided her with food. Later, she learned of his identity—he had only been a prince back then.

“Please, just take me in. My parents are gone. I know no one but you,” she remembered pleading.

Even as a boy, he exuded authority. He looked at her silently, said nothing, and left.

Even fifteen years later, she remembered that moment vividly. She often wished time could have stayed there. The longer the years, the greater the gap between them.

As a child, she didn’t realize that her gratitude toward Chu Jingcheng had already transformed into love. She searched the capital for any news of him, but found nothing.

At age twelve, she was sold to a brothel, working as a maid. As she grew older, her beauty became undeniable.

By chance, she learned that Prince Jingcheng had won a victorious battle and was returning to the capital. In that moment, hope bloomed.

Having grown up in the brothel, she had become familiar with all forms of seduction. She realized that to approach Prince Jingcheng, she needed to become strong.

When she finally became the famed Miss Qingqing of the capital, she felt both close and distant from Chu Jingcheng. At night, she told herself that even if he did not love her, there would be no woman by his side. She was willing to remain a mere pawn to catch a few glances of him.

Until Yin Qingyue appeared, she realized that all her years of effort could not surpass another woman.

“By looks, I surpass her. By gentleness, she cannot compare. She is inferior to me in every way!” Qingqing pushed her teacup to the ground.

Her heart bled—nearly twenty years of waiting and sacrifice had ended like this.

“Miss, it’s time to take your medicine,” a maid knocked, but there was no response.

Opening the door, she saw Qingqing sitting on the floor, staring blankly, lost.

Whenever she thought of matters concerning Prince Jingcheng, Qingqing’s emotions overwhelmed her.

“Miss, are you all right? Why torment yourself like this?” The maid helped her up, worried. She did not understand the full story but knew her mistress’s pain.

“Miss, why do this?”

“My life was given by him; giving it back doesn’t matter!” Qingqing said with a smile.

“Pour me a cup of Longjing! I want to drink!” She remained on the floor, letting her palms bleed.

The physical pain could numb her, but it paled in comparison to heartache.

“Did that ugly girl say something? I’ll teach her a lesson for you, Miss!”

“Everyone out! Out!” Qingqing suddenly shouted, her usual gentleness gone. She hated being a brothel girl, inferior even to an ugly woman.

“Miss, I won’t disturb you. Stay calm, but please don’t do anything foolish,” the maid urged.

“Out! Don’t bother me!” Qingqing shouted again.

Outside, the other maids whispered among themselves:

“Miss Qingqing, what’s happened?”

“I don’t know. A few years ago, it was the same. I never thought it would start again this year. I don’t know who has hurt our mistress so deeply that even after so many years, she cannot forget!”