When the Splendid Costume Is Stripped Away, What Is Left of You?

After the screaming stopped, Charlotte Cloud's heart pounded wildly. She knew she was asking for trouble, but she just couldn't help talking back. This fearless urge to argue is usually called 'having a sharp tongue,' or, less kindly, 'being mouthy.' In the heat of the moment, she felt bold and righteous, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she was overcome with regret and fear. She couldn't even imagine what this terrifying villain—far worse than any previous fiend—might do to torment her.

But the man across from her didn't raise a hand against her.

He wasn't just here to vent his anger with a beating—he came to make a statement. For someone like him, a simple fight wouldn't be enough to let off steam. At first, he only meant to scare her and use the Chu Family to stir up a sensational scandal. But now, since she was so bold—calling herself honorable while throwing around insults like 'whore'—fine. He decided he had to completely shatter her worldview to truly satisfy his grudge.

"Hmph, you've got some spirit, but you really don't know what you're talking about." The white-haired man didn't get angry right away. He remained proud and poised, showing the difference between a true demon and a mere fiend: "You've got your reasons, that's fine. But even by your logic, you have no right to look down on others. According to you, anyone who makes a living by performing is a whore—so what does that make you? Aren't you even worse?"

"You—what nonsense are you spouting!" Charlotte's mouthy spirit was in full force. She struggled to pull her legs together and snapped, "I, Charlotte Cloud, am a master of music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, and song. I walk the straight path and uphold virtue—how could some common whore ever compare to me!"

"Oh, feeling pretty good about yourself, huh?" The white-haired man replied, perfectly composed: "So tell me, why did you learn all those arts? Music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, and song—what are they really for?"

"I... You're impossible!" Charlotte Cloud was a little flustered, but still stubborn: "I'm the Chu Family's legitimate daughter—how could I fall behind anyone? Of course I have to... to make a name for myself, bring glory to my family!"

"Bring glory to your family?" The white-haired man scoffed. "So the Chu Family needs a famous daughter to be respectable?"

"I..." Charlotte Cloud suddenly couldn't speak. If she admitted it, in this era, it would actually be a huge insult to the Chu Family.

"Nothing to say? Fine, let's change the subject." The white-haired man easily steered the conversation: "You say you uphold virtue—I've heard that too. Miss Chu, the eldest daughter, never leaves the house, raised in seclusion, her beauty and reputation famous. But tell me, why did you give up your freedom to stay cooped up in a walled estate every day? What's it all for?"

"Th-this... This is just how things are supposed to be!" Charlotte Cloud was still trying to act tough, but her voice had lost its edge. "It’s the way of the world, the natural order! Why ask why? You’re just being ridiculous!"

"Ha! If some random girl from an ordinary family said that, maybe I’d let it slide. But coming from you? That’s just nonsense!" The white-haired man finally went on the attack, relentless: "The Chu Family looks all shiny on the outside, but inside, it’s hanging by a thread. Last three generations couldn’t get a foothold in the court, so now they’re grasping at straws, trying every trick to hold onto their status. And you? You’re their ticket. They trained you, coached you, just to turn you into a tool. Can’t you see it? Are you lying to me, or just lying to yourself?"

"No!" Charlotte Cloud shrieked, as if stung. "What do you know, you lowlife from the streets—mmph!"

Smack! The white-haired man grabbed her face, silencing her. Thunder seemed to crackle in his eyes: "Don’t know? Hah, you’re just playing dumb! I’ve read your poetry, I know your story. Think about the stuff you write—those fake-cold, fake-highbrow, actually just pandering lines. Who taught you that? Think about your fame, your reputation—how much is real, how much is hype? Who spread it around? The Chu Family pulled every string for one reason: to get you into the palace, to serve the emperor, to be his consort!"

Charlotte Cloud shivered all over, icy to the bone. But then a spark flared up inside her, and she fought back with everything she had: "What’s wrong with being a consort? Golden branches, heavenly phoenix—what girl wouldn’t want that?"

"Nothing wrong with wanting to be a consort. But you—acting like you’re above it all while hustling just as hard as anyone else? That’s peak hypocrisy. Like I said, if selling your smile and your art for money makes you a courtesan, you’re worse than one—because they only sell their art. You? You’re selling yourself. Or to put it bluntly, you’re just a—well, you get the idea." The white-haired man didn’t pull any punches. "The emperor’s coming soon, once-in-a-lifetime shot, and here comes a song-and-dance troupe stealing your thunder. That’s why you’re so anxious, up all night practicing, desperate to ‘crush the competition’—because deep down, you’re scared you can’t close the deal."

Charlotte Cloud looked like she’d just been punched in the gut. Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head in a daze. "No..."

But deep down, there was a fear she couldn’t shake. Because everything the white-haired man said—those were the very things she was afraid to admit, even to herself. And the reason she wouldn’t admit it? Because, if she was honest, she kind of agreed with him.

"Brothel girls sing and dance to attract customers, and you’re no different—just swapped bawdy songs for calligraphy and painting, swapped the madam’s pitch for a fancy reputation. That whole ‘never stepping out the front gate’ thing? Just a rebrand for ‘still a virgin.’ So tell me, what’s the difference between you and a courtesan?"

"No..." Charlotte Cloud’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes blurred with tears.

"Oh, maybe there’s one difference." The white-haired man grinned, voice dripping with malice: "First, your price is way too high. Second, plenty of those girls were forced into it by life and still have some shame—if they get a chance, they’d quit. Some just sell art, not themselves. But you? You’ve been focused on selling yourself since you were a kid, all in, no regrets. And you still think you’re special, standing on some high horse, judging everyone else. Honestly? You’re not even as good as they are."

This chapter isn’t over yet~ Please click ‘Next Page’ for more drama!

"No—!!" Charlotte Cloud went wild, struggling like mad. The white-haired man didn’t lay a finger on her, but he hurt her more than any brute ever could. Every word was a knife, cutting right where it hurt most. Her clothes were still on, but inside, she felt stripped bare. All she could do was throw out a weak, desperate retort: "No! That’s not true! That’s not how it is!"

"Not true? Which part? The first one? I said your price is all hype, nothing but marketing—don’t believe me?" The white-haired man chuckled, full of malice. "You want to know how easy it’d be to ruin you? Piece of cake."

Charlotte Cloud stared at him in terror, suddenly realizing something. She trembled, scared out of her wits. But even as she shook, a feverish heat spread through her bones, making her mind blur. All she could do was spit out a threat: "I can’t fight you today, but you’ll pay for dishonoring a decent woman! Even if I die, I’ll haunt you!"

"A decent woman? Please. Ruining you doesn’t even require touching you. Even if someone did, the Chu Family would just bribe the examiner, patch up that so-called ‘purity,’ or fake some blood with a fish bladder—plenty of tricks, believe me, the pros use them all the time. But me? I could destroy you with just one sentence." The white-haired man’s words nearly stopped Charlotte Cloud’s heart. "All I have to say is, ‘I’ve already had you.’ What do you think would happen then?"

Charlotte Cloud was dumbstruck, mumbling in panic: "No way. I’ll get a midwife to check, I’ll use palace powder, I can prove—"

"Cut the act. People always believe the worst, never the best. The moment there’s gossip, everyone assumes the nastiest. I’m an authority in the field—if I say it, you could paint yourself head-to-toe with palace powder and bring a hundred midwives, it wouldn’t matter. Besides, there’s no such thing as a secret that never leaks." The man glanced at the women in the corner, sending them shrinking back in fear. "Today, you’ve been kidnapped, drugged, groped, put on display. If even one rumor gets out, you can forget about the palace. And if the emperor passes you by, oh ‘great talent,’ how much do you think you’re worth then?"

Charlotte Cloud was speechless. She shook and sobbed, genuinely terrified by the future the white-haired man painted. He was right—she wasn’t some clueless girl. Her upbringing had taught her plenty, including things she wished she didn’t know. If he spread those rumors, she’d be finished. The Chu Family’s efforts wasted, her own reputation in ruins. One word from this man, and she’d crash from her pedestal, shattered to pieces.

After a long, stunned silence, Charlotte Cloud finally broke down, sobbing: "Why? Why do you have to torment me like this?"

"Idiot. Don’t you get it? I’m not the one tormenting you. This is just how pathetic your life is! If your fate can be decided by a single rumor, even a lie, what’s it really worth?" The white-haired man’s face lost its wickedness, leaving only a cold, commanding presence. "You once said, ‘strip off their fancy costumes.’ Sure, those girls aren’t so noble, but no matter how much people slander them, they’ve still got something precious underneath. But you? Let’s see what’s under yours!"

Whoosh—the man reached out and tore Charlotte Cloud’s clothes clean off. She cried out, her body suddenly exposed, her youthful beauty on full display. Any man would go wild at the sight, but the white-haired man’s eyes held no desire. Instead, they were deep as the night sky, with just a hint of pity.

That hint of pity gave him an odd, almost divine quality.

He spoke gently now, like a life coach delivering a wake-up call.

"Strip away the fancy costumes—what’s left of you?"