What painted trollop, what wicked temptress, thought she could lay a hand on my Junior Martial Sister?
The brothel woman stared in bewilderment as Mo Hua pinned her pale, delicate hand between his chopsticks as if it were a pig's trotter.
Bai Zixi's expression was rather strange, too.
Just then, another brothel woman in pink saw how handsome Mo Hua was. Her knees went weak, and she leaned against him, reaching both arms around his waist.
Mo Hua had yet to react.
Bai Zixi's eyes flashed. She picked up her chopsticks and caught the woman's hand, keeping her from touching her junior martial brother.
The scene turned rather peculiar.
The brothel women looked at the two of them strangely.
Mo Hua finally came to his senses. He coughed twice, set down his chopsticks, and ordered:
"Leave us for now. Come back later. We have important matters to discuss."
The women looked puzzled, but they dared not disobey a guest. "Yes, Young Master," they said with a respectful bow, then filed out.
Once behind the screen, though, they covered their mouths with their handkerchiefs and whispered:
"Two men? What could they have to talk about... Unless... And they had to come to a brothel to do it, with girls watching? What a game they're playing..."
"Ah, these days, it isn't just women competing with women for men. Men are competing with women for men, too..."
"I wonder which of those two Young Masters is after the other..."
"Still, they're both so handsome. I'd gladly stop being a courtesan who only performs and spend the night serving them..."
"And you think you'd get that lucky? Dream on..."
The brothel women spoke in low voices behind the screen, too softly for their gossip to reach the room.
But Mo Hua and Bai