A/N: HEY-O. Hi there. You probably don't know me, as I'm new to this lovely, twisted fandom. Anyway, reviews are the opium in MAH pipe, so show some love! This one's for ExceedinglyPeculiarChick for using the words "sexy mancake." :D
He found her in the dark.
She lay huddled in one corner of the room, shivering against her fear and trying to block out the smell of opium smoke. She had hated the very sound of the word from the moment she stepped inside the brothel less than a year ago, and was convinced that she would always hate it, the sweet, cloying smell. The smell of lies as they drew you in.
He had no interest in gambling. Instead he smoked his pipe and drank his tea in silence, a mysterious smile on his lips. Little did she know that he was watching her.
She shut her eyes, imagining that she was somewhere else—the land of her home, perhaps, with the lazy morning mist wetting the leaves on every tree, giving the air a pleasant chill. If she concentrated, she could almost believe that her fantasies of being away from this frightening place were real. If only she were able to shut out the smell of the foul drug that languished in the air, she would be content to sit in her corner, away from the prying eyes of the men she had grown to loathe.
She was a wallflower among lilies in that place, with the other girls gliding gracefully from one gang member to another, serving tea and allowing the men to do things that were, in her mind, despicable.
The smiling man with the pipe did not escape her notice, as he had expected. She saw that he saw her when no one else did, and feared for what he would request of her when the sun finished dipping below the clouds. And with a glance behind the bamboo curtain, that time was not far off.
She shivered in anxiety. She would never be comfortable with the things she was expected to do here.
Sure enough, as the minutes passed, she found the man slowly making his way over to her, stopping for a brief word with one of the other girls. The girl, surprisingly, did not seem to hold the man's attention for very long, and he soon continued over to where the object of his curiosity sat in the corner.
He took the seat beside her, and with a flourish, drew a single camellia out of nowhere and offered it to her. She accepted the lustrous red blossom, but not without some confusion. This was not how most of the men acted around her.
He then spoke, in a soft voice. "Have you ever been to the Hengduan mountains?"
She immediately covered her ears, glaring at the man. He seemed surprised. "Have I said something wrong?"
She bristled. "Don't be cruel and talk of places I shall never get to see."
His expression softened from confusion to gentle understanding. "I see. You think yourself bound to this place forever."
"I am," she hissed through gritted teeth, not caring if she was being sufficiently respectful. "And you don't have to be spiteful about it, either."
"Ah," he said. "So then, should we not speak of the wonders beyond our world?" She glanced up. "The beautiful, terrible things? Should we act as if they do not exist simply because we believe that we shall never get the chance to see them?"
She lowered her hands from her ears and stared thoughtfully at the strange man. "I would not," she said quietly. "Look at me. Thinking of other places, other countries to visit, only makes my purgatory all the more unbearable."
He sat with her in silence for a while. To her, it could have been minutes, hours, or days next to him, wondering about this man. It is true, she longed to travel, to see the world. But alas, she could not. She would do anything to get out of this opium den, to get away from the smell, but it would never be. That much she knew for sure.
He took another drag on his stinking pipe before speaking. "I'm leaving for England tomorrow."
Oh, lovely. He plans to gloat.
"You could come with me."
She looked up at him, startled. What an odd man, willing to take a prostitute with him to another country. "Why?" she asked of him.
"Because," he said simply, "you should see the world."
Accepting his offer would be the bravest thing she had ever done. And so, as she was no coward at heart, she did.
"Now," he said, leaning forward slightly, still smiling. "What is your name, little one?"
"Ranmao."
"A lovely name." He rose. "And I am Lau." He paused. "Welcome to the world."
The world, indeed.
The next morning, she left with him on a ship bound for the great country of England, a place she had only ever heard stories of. She dreamed of seeing the crowds of people, the great river flowing through London, the freedom that came with finally being rid of the brothel.
And she stayed by Lau's side the entire trip there, and would stay with him for many years to come.
And let me tell you a secret—she grew to love the smell of his pipe.