The Gilded Lotus Pavilion definitely lived up to its name. 'Gilded' was an understatement—the place was a fever dream of gold leaf and red silk.
The structure rose several stories high, with everything circling a single stage in the middle where musicians played and ladies performed.
Silk tapestries the color of bruised plums hung from the rafters, and the air was a thick, choking soup of expensive incense, floral powder, and the sharp sting of alcohol.
I walked through it all mindlessly, my eyes cataloging the expensive decor with the detached gaze of someone who had seen way too much.
Then, I accidentally wandered into a room where a woman in a crimson robe was currently losing her mind.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE COULDN'T MAKE IT!?" a woman's voice shrieked, my neck stretched towards the direction of the voice.
