72. In the end, who is seducing whom?

In the vast expanse of China, the regions of Central, Northern, Eastern, and Southern China are populated almost exclusively by the Han people, with the occasional, sharply delineated areas of minority ethnic groups. But in the southwest, whether it is the result of rugged mountains and difficult survival or the legacy of historical migrations, the highlands are host to a multitude of minority peoples whose classifications are bewilderingly complex. Sometimes, just a mountain or two separates utterly different communities. The officially recognized dozens are but the broadest categories; the actual number goes far beyond what is commonly acknowledged.

Yet, whatever their ethnicity, in Chen Sufen’s experience, these minorities treat love and marriage with great seriousness. Their dedication to tradition—be it tribal or religious—is far more rigorous than anything she has seen in the cities. Their customs remain relatively untouched by the materialism that erodes urban life. Someone as frivolous as Bai Haonan, with his cavalier approach to relationships, would be a heretic here—fit to be strung up and burned!

Chen Sufen suddenly jumped down from the earthen terrace, intending to call out to Bai Haonan. But the cluster of local matrons standing nearby, watching the spectacle, pulled her back, so she could only shout, “Bai Haonan! You…” At this moment, her concern outweighed her caution.

Even if someone lent her a megaphone, Bai Haonan would not have heard her now. He was utterly bewitched—her usual description for him, but in this scene, it was truer than ever. His senses were completely overwhelmed by Isa.

Perhaps in Bai Haonan’s irreverent worldview, every nurse he slept with had to play at uniforms, every stewardess was required to fulfill a similar fantasy, and college girls had their own innocent roles. If not for the leverage he held over Guo Xiaoxiao, he surely would not have passed up such a fully armed, festive scenario. This, too, might be a new kind of uniform allure.

Uniforms have their own magic.

Isa’s black blouse fastened at the side and was edged with silver, making it lively and striking. Her white sleeves were rolled up, paired with a floor-length linen skirt, a vibrant, multicolored broad belt, and a turban like a meditation cushion atop her head. The ensemble was anything but somber; the black collar and head covering only served to highlight Isa’s features.

When the girls emerged in a line, Bai Haonan’s eyes locked instantly onto her face.

He would later learn that this ritual involved all the girls standing upstairs at the back of the village, singing in competition. In fact, the girls could see the young men by the bonfire at any time.

Which meant Bai Haonan’s wild, flamboyant dancing had been watched by all the girls.

It was like a flock of male birds displaying their feathers, while the females vied for the most extravagant among them.

How perfectly primitive, how true to ancient aesthetics.

But in this moment, Bai Haonan could see only the dancing girl.

The girls indeed danced together in a row, hands resting on the shoulders of those in front, swinging their legs and swaying in unison. Yet Bai Haonan saw only her face.

She was fairer than almost anyone in her tribe. Chen Sufen had studied her neck closely; it was not nearly as pale. Perhaps she powdered her face, or cared only for it. Regardless, her fair complexion was set off by deep-set eyes, a high nose, delicate brows, and a cherry mouth. Even a sidelong glance revealed her beauty, but Bai Haonan’s gaze was entirely absorbed by her bright, black eyes.

At midday, her sapphire robe had already drawn attention to her delicate face, but her chest was surprisingly full. Whether it was the broad belt and long skirt, her hips seemed generous, and with her tall, slender figure, the slightest sway was seductive.

Her look was openly provocative.

Compared to the flirtations Bai Haonan had seen in nightclubs, this was something else—an authentic, heartfelt revelation of temperament. Every expression, every smile, ensnared the heart, her gaze direct and full of heat, utterly lacking the coyness or feigned reluctance of Han girls. It was pure, blazing emotion, the intensity built up all afternoon now breaking forth.

If Bai Haonan once thought himself skilled at flirting, today he had to admit: this girl was the real master.

Her swaying dance, the glimmer in her eyes, the rolling of her shoulders, the soft, sighing hum, and the brush of her skirted hips as she passed by—each move seemed accidental, yet deliberate.

At first, Bai Haonan tried to follow the dance in his usual clumsy, suggestive manner, but Isa, with a casual sidestep, moved behind him, her back pressed to his as she twisted.

What happened to his sense of positioning? His instincts as an athlete?

Bai Haonan was so delighted he could only follow her lead, immersed in the dance, not hearing Chen Sufen’s distant calls. And she could hardly shout that these minority girls would spell disaster.

For Bai Haonan, as long as danger wasn’t imminent, he was determined to enjoy himself.

So, amid cheers, applause, and sighs from the crowd, Bai Haonan found himself, for the first time, impatiently dragged into the house by a girl!

It was Isa herself, fumbling to help him climb through the window, and then Bai Haonan pulled her inside.

What an extraordinary, exhilarating tryst.

This was all Bai Haonan could think, excusing his utter lack of cultural awareness.

He would remember it as an unforgettable night—almost worthy of an elementary school essay.

Isa’s unique blend of wildness and innocence was something Bai Haonan, the prince of casual affairs, had never encountered in any nightclub.

Her spirit was unstoppable, passionate enough to incinerate a man, and yet there was a naive charm to her inexperience. For the first time, Bai Haonan felt the impulse to stay forever.

Struggling out of a heap of straw, gasping for breath—perhaps a side effect of the altitude—Bai Haonan felt almost as if he were dreaming, his mind oxygen-starved.

The girl, used to the thin air of her homeland, emerged agile and strong, looping her arms around Bai Haonan’s neck, brushing straw from the corner of her mouth with a radiant smile. “From now on, you can call me Agula.”

Bai Haonan, still adjusting to this foreign term, asked, “Agula?”

Isa answered sweetly, rising along his neck, “From now, you are my husband. Take me away with you.”

What?

Even as his hands instinctively roamed, Bai Haonan, feeling the urge again, was stunned by her words: “Husband? What century is this!”

By the moonlight outside, Isa’s face showed no panic—no sign of a naive girl deceived into bed—just a mischievous wink. “That’s right. Even though it’s the twenty-first century, our people still have our rules. I suggest you take me away quickly, or you’ll be in serious trouble.”

Brother Haonan wasn’t easily intimidated; he swallowed hard, unsure whether it was from the content or the sight before him, beautiful in the moonlight. “Wh-what trouble?”

Isa reached out, cradling his head, pressing her trembling chest to his face as she laughed. “Girls in our tribe usually have two names—one for siblings and outsiders, the other only for husbands and elders. Solo Agula: that’s my second name. If you don’t honor this tradition, I’ll take it—and you—away!”

Feeling her sudden grip, Bai Haonan was terrified out of his wits!

Now this was true gangster territory.