The Female Alpha Consort Mistakenly Marks the Empress - TFACMME Chapter 30

Under the corridor, the lanterns swayed in the wind, tangling their shadows into one, as if even their breathing had merged. The sticky sound of swallowing saliva was especially loud in the quiet room, like some kind of secret, illicit melody.

Somewhere nearby, a medicine stove bubbled and gurgled, making the thick liquid sounds even stranger.

Qi Yingzhu was pressed against the door by Mu Lanshi, her back and waist tightly against the cold wooden door. The chill seeped through her thin clothes into her skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat surging within her.

Her fingers unconsciously gripped the doorframe, the tips turning slightly white, as if holding back something with great effort.

“Mm… stop kissing.” Qi Yingzhu turned her head away, her voice trembling, sounding like a plea, or perhaps a feigned refusal. Her breathing was rapid, her chest rising and falling violently, each breath seeming to carry flames.

Delicate fingers in her sleeves trembled, joints pale like frost and snow, unable to hide the turmoil surging beneath. Sticky sweat covered her like a warm gauze, clinging to her wrists and between her fingers. The heat climbed, like ghostly fire licking at her skin, burning it painfully.

The burning sensation within her surged like a tide, relentless, pushing into the depths of her soul, leaving no place to escape.

The gurgling sound of thick liquid filled the room.

Mu Lanshi didn’t stop. Her lips traced down from Qi Yingzhu’s earlobe, gently biting the side of her neck, her tongue teasing that sensitive patch of skin. The scent of orchid grew stronger, almost completely enveloping Qi Yingzhu, like an invisible net trapping her tightly.

The room was in chaos with mingled alpha and omega signal scents, but the dominant one was the orchid scent from Mu Lanshi, threatening to consume her entirely.

Her mind had already gone blank.

Qi Yingzhu’s eyes trembled, her lower back shuddering with tingling numbness when touched. Her eyes welled up immediately.

She clung tightly to Mu Lanshi’s neck, panting, reason telling her to stop, but the rising tide of desire only made her pull harder at her.

—How could they do this? On the sickbed of her older sister. Even if she and her sister shared no blood, and barely had a relationship, it was still too improper.

“This was your idea,” Mu Lanshi said with a smile, kissing red marks on her pale skin. “To use you as the antidote.”

“No… it’s not right…” Her voice was weak, like a final struggle, but her body pressed closer to Mu Lanshi, as if begging for more touch.

Mu Lanshi chuckled softly, unconcerned. Her fingers traced slowly along Qi Yingzhu’s side, undoing her sash to reveal pale skin beneath. Her lips found her collarbone, sucking gently and leaving red marks.

“Why not?” Her voice was seductive, fingers lightly stroking Qi Yingzhu’s waist, feeling her tremble. “Doesn’t Little Lord like it too?”

Qi Yingzhu’s reason teetered on the edge of collapse. Her fingers dug into Mu Lanshi’s shoulders, nearly breaking the skin. Her breathing quickened, mind going blank, filled only with Mu Lanshi’s scent and touch.

“There are… people outside…” she stammered, as if clinging to her last shred of restraint.

“They can’t hear.”

Qi Yingzhu’s breath caught. It was like she was pushed into an abyss, unable to escape. Her fingers gripped Mu Lanshi’s collar, trembling, struggling to suppress the flutter in her heart.

“Mu Lanshi…” her voice was tinged with plea, tears brimming in her eyes.

Mu Lanshi didn’t stop. Her fingers gently caressed Qi Yingzhu’s waist, feeling her tremble. Her lips moved to her ear, her voice low and husky, full of allure. “Little Lord, relax.”

Relax? Could she relax?

Qi Yingzhu couldn’t process what Mu Lanshi was saying anymore.

She was drowning in the orchid scent filling the room. So this was a top-ranked alpha.

In the last moment before her consciousness faded, she thought that.

All the times before, Mu Lanshi had always been gentle during her own heat. But now it was different—now Mu Lanshi was the alpha.

Qi Yingzhu knew well how powerful alphas were. In her past life, she’d seen many of them rampaging during heat in the deep palace. At this moment, she could only turn her head, watching Mu Lanshi pleasing her without reservation.

It was shameful. But having such a top-tier alpha by her side, the feeling of happiness was unmistakable.

Sometimes, she really wished she could forget all her past and just stay with Mu Lanshi.

To freeze these moments forever.

Finally, Mu Lanshi let her go, gently helping her dress and tidy up. When she tied the sash, she leaned to her ear and whispered a few ambiguous words: “Little Lord, your skin is like snow, wrapped in honey.”

“Next time I’ll feed you sour citrus from Lingnan, till your teeth ache,” Qi Yingzhu had already tidied her appearance, but still managed to tease Mu Lanshi.

Her eyes still shimmered red from the heat.

At that moment, Mu Lanshi pushed open the door and replied lightly, “If my lady feeds me with her mouth, even sour would taste sweet.”

“…” Qi Yingzhu bit her lip.

She didn’t know when it had started, but her conversations with Mu Lanshi had become so unrestrained.

She kissed her whenever she liked, said whatever she wanted. And yet in front of others, Mu Lanshi was always the cool, proper, noble daughter of a prestigious family.

Even if Qi Yingzhu went out and told people what Mu Lanshi was like in private, no one would believe her.

The maidservant serving Qi Nian had walked far away, waiting until the two came out before approaching. She had already heard from Master and Madam that Younger Miss and Young Lady Mu were engaged, so she wasn’t surprised they were together.

“Young Lady Mu, Young Miss.” She approached with a medicine bowl, unaware of the creases on Young Miss’s dress, and respectfully bowed. “Have you finished visiting Eldest Miss?”

Mu Lanshi nodded. “Yes.”

Qi Yingzhu clearly hadn’t recovered from the intimate moment earlier. She stood to the side, head lowered, silent.

She had already reined in her signal scent. That was the strength of a top-ranked alpha—being able to control it at will.

A maid, with an innocent expression, passed by them, giving Mu Lanshi a formal farewell.

In her mind, the elegant first daughter of a noble family and her well-behaved Younger Miss fiancée would never cross any lines.

Especially this Mu Lanshi, who was like a white jade tablet worshiped in a temple—her clothes always scented with incense, pressed perfectly.

“Well? Satisfied, mate?” When they reached the door, Qi Yingzhu looked at Mu Lanshi with dissatisfaction. Her waist still ached from the bruise left when she was pressed against the door.

Mu Lanshi thought for a moment, then took out one of her command tokens, held Qi Yingzhu’s hand, and tucked it back into her palm. “Use it as injury salve.”

That’s it?

That was a command token used to summon people.

Qi Yingzhu’s lashes fluttered, and the spot at her waist stirred again. Tsk, this woman said exchanging someone for one night together, and now she actually had the illusion it was true.

Qi Yingzhu glared at her. “Just this? Next time, come in person.”

Mu Lanshi smiled. “Alright. Next time, I’ll use this personally.”

As she spoke, she pointed at her lips.

Qi Yingzhu’s face flushed instantly. “Just go already!” Then, after a pause and a stomp of her foot, she added, “…If you want to join the fun, come to the teahouse the day after tomorrow.”

Mu Lanshi replied, “Of course. I will do whatever my mate says.”

If only this person’s actions when she’s rutting could be as beautiful as her words.

Qi Yingzhu ignored her. When Mu Lanshi passed by her, she heard Mu Lanshi say, “They will come to you later—but Little Lord has to consider them too. Don’t kill them just because you’re craving some Lanshi.”

Oh, she took back what she just said.

***

The sound of iron hooves clattered beneath the eaves. The scent of sunken incense and orchid mixed with Mu Lanshi’s swirling sleeves had yet to dissipate.

Qi Yingzhu clutched the engraved silver command token and returned, collapsing into the round-backed chair. Her fingertips brushed over the lingering warmth within the engraved patterns. Suddenly, she heard the crack of an old locust tree branch breaking outside the window, smashing against the blue-brick ground, shattering like sharp fangs.

She pushed open the carved window; the cold gleam of dark iron pierced the sky.

The layered clouds sagged like cotton soaked in ink, and thunder rolled deep within them, crashing along the eaves, shaking the magnolia flowers placed diagonally in the Ding kiln plum vase on her desk.

“It’s almost time.” She murmured, eyeing the signs of an impending storm, a smile curling on her lips. “Well then, in a few days, there’ll be a good show.”

As the wind chimes shattered the sound of rain, Mu Lanshi’s wide sleeves brushed past the half-damp crabapple trees in the courtyard.

The study door creaked open. The scent of sunken incense and orchid poured in with the earthy tang of a storm yet to break.

Mu Lanshi halted abruptly, her hand skimming a crackled celadon vase on the display shelf, knocking loose several withered green plum petals that scattered over the open land-tax ledger.

In the light, overlapping shadows appeared.

—That ledger had only been delivered earlier today by Steward Zhao. It was last year’s account book, newly organized, meant for Mu Mei to review. But ever since their mother handed the token to her, Mu Lanshi had begun frequenting the study as well.

Mu Lanshi narrowed her gaze, sat down, and brought the book closer to the bronze candlestick shaped like a lute’s hollow neck. She used a celadon paperweight to press down the corners and gently wiped it with mint water. Under the words “three hundred jin of silk collected,” the original text of “five hundred jin” gradually bled through.

Thunder exploded outside. The copper wind chime hanging from the curtain hook clanged in disarray. Mu Lanshi understood instantly, already calculating the date of the upcoming gathering.

It was late—this ledger should have arrived long ago. But they had deliberately chosen such a hectic day. Clearly, they believed their mother would be too busy preparing the spring gathering to review the books.

Hence, the embezzlement. She had long known whose man that Steward Zhao was—wasn’t he one of Mu Yan’s?

Rain finally poured down, pounding on the roof beasts’ heads in dense sheets.

“If they want to see me humiliated…” Mu Lanshi sneered, the candlelight casting shadows of fingermarks left on her neck by Qi Yingzhu. “Then I might as well burn it all down—leave no one standing.”

In a flash, the copper scissors snapped through the candlewick. As darkness devoured the last glimmer of light, a distant clang echoed.

The copper gong from the magistrate’s office rang out through the rain, sharp as a blade slicing through silk.

On duty tonight should be Head Constable Chen—the fool who accepted three bushels of South Sea pearls from Mu Die.

Mu Lanshi calmly gathered the falsified ledger, ignoring the movement outside the window. Yes, this position as head of the house was never easy to hold.

Who knew whose subordinate that shadow just now belonged to?

In silence, she left to summon her own loyal guards.

That day, a rumor of uncertain origin spread from the Mu residence in the capital.

—This year’s Spring Outing Gathering during Grain Rain in April would be hosted by none other than the young lady, Mu Lanshi.

There had never been such precedent before. Gatherings of such importance were always led by the head of the household.

***

Head Constable Chen slammed the case file heavily onto the bluestone desk, splashing tea foam everywhere.

His bloodshot eyes swept over his fellow officers. “The arson at the West Market granary is still unsolved, and now three foreign merchants died last night! In just half a month, the number of cases the Capital Magistrate has taken exceeds all of last spring!”

The office buzzed with sighs.

Veteran officer Zhao Si spat into the brazier. “If you ask me, with those princelings fighting like cocks in front of the Imperial Ancestral Temple, how could Xirong spies not exploit the chaos? Just the other night, I caught someone dumping medicine dregs into the moat—guess where he came from? The back alley of the Fourth Prince’s villa!”

“Silence!” Head Constable Chen lowered his voice abruptly, pulling out a yellowed secret letter from his sleeve. Everyone leaned in and saw the red wax seal, stamped with the wolf-head emblem of Xirong. “This was confiscated from a songstress’s pillow box at Drunken Immortal Tower. That western woman had sewn the message into her pipa’s soundboard. Just this month alone, they delivered six sets of ‘Kucha Scores’ to the Ministry of Rites.”

Another officer added, “And the fur merchant in the West Market we raided the other day—” His words were cut short by Chen’s glare.

Sunlight streamed through the lattice, illuminating scattered evidence: a half-burnt Ministry of Revenue certificate, indigo-stained Persian silver coins, and an Eastern Palace token etched with ‘Yongning’.

“Xirong’s scheme is ruthless.” Chen lifted a fragment of a city defense map with his knife tip. “First, the songstresses ensnared officials, then caravans forged customs documents, and finally, they stirred unrest with these foreign merchant murders. According to the confessions, they’ve hidden three hundred warhorses at the suburban horse farm.”

They exchanged glances, no one speaking further. Thankfully, the case had been cracked—had it not, the consequences would’ve been unthinkable.

The world was far from peaceful. Barbarians on the northern and western borders watched like tigers, and everyone knew the emperor’s throne was far from stable. Now that His Imperial Majesty was gravely ill and talk of a joy-bringing marriage had surfaced, even such a major case had to be buried.

Survive one day at a time.

Just then, a sharp shout rang from outside: “Quick! That Xu woman has come to the magistrate’s office!”

“Ah!” The constables exchanged looks, inwardly cursing Qi Zhongxuan. Damn that man! Unable to control his household, yet letting it spill into public affairs—did they think the capital had so many idle constables to entertain such chaos?

Constable Chen scowled, calming the others. “Alright, calm down. Let’s go out and see. Judging by her last outburst, she’s definitely here to make us find that bastard of a husband again!”

Before they could step outside, a wail pierced the air, startling sparrows from the eaves. Xu Yuan burst past the gatekeeper and stumbled through the threshold. The jade hairpin in her temple shook wildly with her sobs.

“My cursed husband must’ve been possessed!” She threw a lotus-embroidered handkerchief onto the desk. Stained with mottled tears, it bore a smudge of dark red blood. “He used to treat me so well, and now he’s keeping a young lady in the capital! He abandoned me, Nianian, and Yingzhu—tell me, how could such a good man turn out like this?” Xu Yuan wept, “I turned the whole house upside down and found this thing!”

When the handkerchief hit the desk, something clattered against the wood.

Everyone’s gaze dropped—it was a wolf fang.

A wolf fang—not something from the Great Qi.

The constables were dumbfounded.

“What… what is this??”

They all gasped. A cursed object?

“Madam Xu, what is this about?” Constable Chen stepped forward, concern on his face.

“Officers, please help me!” Xu Yuan sobbed and sniffled. “I don’t know what this thing is. But on my way here, I remembered—I saw it eight years ago. And my husband started seeing that young lady seven years ago. I’ve seen her—she’s no good! She must’ve used this cursed thing to enchant my husband!” she cried harder.

The constables stood like statues, stunned by the emotional whiplash. Wasn’t this the same woman who cursed Qi Zhongxuan all the way here? Turns out, love and hate are intertwined.

Well, they definitely had to help her now—go get Qi Zhongxuan!

Constable Chen didn’t hesitate. “Alright, Madam Xu, don’t worry. I’ll go find your husband right away… but,” He glanced at the wolf fang on the desk. “You lot, keep an eye on that.”

The others nodded.

Xu Yuan wiped her tears and thanked them profusely. As she walked out, the corners of her mouth curled into a pleased smile.

Qi Zhongxuan, how long can you hide? Don’t blame me for being heartless—it was you who turned your back on us first! You were the fool who got tricked.

She thought proudly. But as she stepped out, she couldn’t help admiring Qi Yingzhu’s cleverness.

…She thought, she really shouldn’t have offended her daughter. If only Yingzhu could give her one more chance.

But Yingzhu wouldn’t. Thinking that, Xu Yuan stepped out of the magistrate’s office, desolate.

***

Elsewhere, Qi Zhongxuan was in the side courtyard discussing matters with his mistress, Hu.

Hu could no longer tolerate Xu Yuan’s loud, unruly outbursts, day after day. Though deeply annoyed, she had no choice but to suppress her anger.

She gently stroked the cheek of the infant in her arms, a flash of coldness in her eyes, then quickly replaced it with a soft, tender expression. She leaned in pitifully and nudged Qi Zhongxuan’s arm, her fingertips brushing faintly across his palm.

“Alpha, tell me, why is your woman so hateful…” she lowered her gaze, her tone carrying a hint of complaint, yet tinged with helplessness. “Every day she spouts nonsense in public, making a scene all over the city. Even I feel ashamed for you.” As she spoke, she sighed lightly. She’s ruining your reputation like this—what about our two children?”

Qi Zhongxuan, though annoyed by her push, couldn’t lash out. He could only respond perfunctorily: “She has a short temper, don’t take it to heart. I’ll go talk to her now, stop her before she causes more trouble.”

With that, he stood up and began to straighten his robes, preparing to leave.

Hu looked on, a flicker of mockery in her eyes, quickly hidden. She pretended to fuss over his collar, smoothing it gently, speaking softly: “Alpha, go quickly and return soon. Don’t let her cause another scene. I always feel uneasy—afraid she’ll bring trouble upon you.”

She tapped lightly at his chest with her fingertip, as if reminding him of something.

Qi Zhongxuan nodded, opened the door, and stepped out. Just after reaching Qinglong Street, several constables rushed towards him. The Head Constable Chen, bowing slightly: “Lord Qi, at last you’ve come. Your wife is making a scene at the yamen. You should go persuade her—otherwise things may spiral beyond control.”

Hearing this, Qi Zhongxuan frowned, inwardly cursing Xu Yuan’s lack of propriety. Still, he had no choice but to accompany the captains toward the yamen. Meanwhile, Hu remained at the courtyard gate, watching his figure disappear around the street corner, a cold smile curling at her lips. She glanced down at the infant in her arms and murmured softly: “Soon… it will be soon…”

She truly no longer wished to hold that child—one was enough. Yet to reassure Qi Zhongxuan, she had to take that infant along. What a burden.

The scorching afternoon sun poured like molten gold, baking the courtyard’s green brick floor. Hu walked briskly among mottled shadows of trees, sweat dampening her temple and hairline. Irritated, she tugged at her collar, suffocating in the oppressive heat.

Just as she entered the main hall, a shaft of wind swept through, lifting the curtains and swirling a few dry leaves at her feet. She halted mid-step, an inexplicable tension tightening in her chest. She instinctively hugged the wrapped infant tighter, her fingertips trembling slightly.

“Who’s there?” she demanded sharply, her voice betraying a subtle tremor.

Before her words finished, black shadows slid down from beams and behind screens like ghosts, instantly surrounding her. Sunlight slanted through the window lattice, illuminating their forms but not their faces, which were obscured by black veils. The one at the front was tall and slender, a short dagger in an ebony sheath at the waist. Its hilt embedded with a blood-red gem glowed unnaturally in the sunlight.

“Hu,” the leader said, voice deep as an abyss, “or should I call you ‘Blood Eagle’?”

A shock seized Hu’s heart, though she remained composed. She stepped back half a pace, her spine pressed against the cold wall, fingertips drifting toward the dagger hidden in her sleeve. She spoke with icy resolve: “Who are you? To invade a private residence—do you know whose courtyard this is?”

The veil-clad man chuckled softly, then spoke slowly: “Seven years ago, you infiltrated the Central Plains as a songstress, used Qi Zhongxuan’s aid to obtain secrets of Great Qi, secretly passing intelligence to the Northern Rong—good tactics.” With those words, he produced a bronze wolf‑head token from his pocket, shaking it before her: “This token was found hidden in your study—unmistakable mark of a North Rong assassin.”

Hu’s pupils shrank. Her face turned ashen. She clutched the infant fiercely; her fingers brushed the dagger. She knew there was no escape.

“In that case…” determination glinted in her eyes as she drew the dagger and lunged for her heart. But before the blade reached her robes, her wrist was seized by a black‑clad hand. The dagger clattered to the floor. Her arm was twisted behind her back, pinning her immobile.

“You want to die?” the man hissed in her ear like a venomous snake. “You still have great use, Blood Eagle of the Northern Rong.”

Hu clenched her teeth, eyes filled with rage and resentment. Sunlight through the lattice fell on her pale face, outlining her trembling lips.

“You even have a child with that man?” the black‑clad figure asked abruptly.

At that accusation, Hu erupted: “I would never have a child with such a man! That child isn’t mine!” Her voice was sharp and raw, like a cornered beast.

She had served as a spy for so long. The greatest humiliation was being with Qi Zhongxuan—a coward! She had assumed the title “Blood Eagle,” proud and commanding. Yet she hid in the capital, even bearing two children to deceive him. It felt like a ruin to her career.

“Pay attention—inspect her mouth. Do not let her die,” the leader ordered coldly. Then murmured: “Our new master… hmm, she wants us to bring her to Qinglong Street?”

At that, Hu smirked faintly—her voice weak yet provocative: “Who is your master?”

The black‑clad man froze, surprised she dared ask. In that moment of hesitation, Hu’s lips curved in a cold smile. She crushed the poison hidden behind her tooth, blood‑sour and sweet flooding her mouth.

“You!” the man reacted, trying to pry her mouth open—but too late.

Hu’s body slid slowly to the wall. Her complexion rapidly faded, a dark red bead of blood bleeding from her lips and giving her face a ghostly pallor. Her eyes lost focus yet retained a proud smirk, as if mocking their incompetence. Sunlight immersed her in a halo-like glow.

The black-clad men stared at her corpse, dumbfounded. One knelt, confirmed she had no breath, then rose slowly, face grim.

“She’s dead,” came the quiet statement, a note of regret muffled beneath.

Another stepped forward and frowned: “What now? Master wants her alive.”

The leader paused, scanning Hu’s corpse, and said: “Take her body, report back. As for the two children…” She glanced at the swaddled infant, “take them too. Hand them over to the master.”

They moved swiftly, wrapping Hu’s body in black cloth, vanishing silently into the courtyard depths. Only a few dried leaves trickled at the courtyard, as if no one had been there.

***

On Qinglong Street, the upheaval had far exceeded everyone’s expectations.

When Head Constable Chen ushered Qi Zhongxuan out of the teahouse, the street erupted in silence. Crowds stopped moving like frozen water. Flower sellers forgot to call out, their baskets filled with overlooked magnolia blossoms. The street’s breath was choked by tension—only Xu Yuan’s hairpin chimed softly in the breeze.

Some bystanders jeered: “Haha, Qi Zhongxuan finally appears?”

“They say he had affairs all over, yet dares not admit it? And the Xu family—wasn’t it a noble second-tier family? How could Xu Yuan take this?”

Embarrassed under such scrutiny, Qi Zhongxuan grew increasingly awkward, helpless at a loss.

“Sir,” Xu Yuan called softly, a tear hanging under her chin.

She was crying? So she still loved him—despite his betrayals.

But after all, he was an alpha; this conduct wasn’t outright treasonous, was it?

If only Xu Yuan would submit, he wouldn’t give her trouble. He resolved to take her home.

About five paces away, he saw Xu Yuan’s tear glint in the sun like amber, matching the gold-enameled plaque reading “Rende Street” above her.

What foolish sadness.

His heart softened; he adjusted his loose garment and began to speak. Suddenly, Xu Yuan raised her marriage contract in her hand. Her previously gentle demeanor vanished. Her voice rang out sharply:

“In front of Chief Official Wang of the Capital and the Deputy Minister of Ceremonies—” Her tone soared, flustering pigeons from teahouses above. “I demand divorce from this traitor who secretly colludes with the Northern Rong!”

The bright daylight on Qinglong Street dimmed noticeably.

Everyone stared. What did she say?

Secret collusion with the Northern Rong? Divorce—from whom?

As if fearing they hadn’t heard, she repeated herself even louder: “I demand divorce from this traitor who secretly colludes with the Northern Rong!”

On the final word, ceramic cups shattered upstairs. The sedan‑bearers from the Ministry of Rites stumbled into a sugar‑painting stall. Thick syrup spilled across the stone slabs, merging with Xu Yuan’s blood‑tinted contract.

It happened right in front of the teahouse where they had shared their intimate moments the previous day.

A fair, beautiful hand suddenly brushed a stray hair from Qi Yingzhu’s ear. Mu Lanshi lowered her head, pulling her tightly into her arms, almost as if trying to embed her into her embrace. Her warm breath brushed against Qi Yingzhu’s face: “Your Majesty is too kind to Lanshi, summoning me here just to see such a wonderful show?”

“Lanshi admires you.” Mu Lanshi lowered her head, continuing to kiss the woman in her arms.

She had initially thought Qi Yingzhu was merely using the common tactic of sowing discord between the couple, hoping to use this opportunity to escape the Qi family after they turned against each other. However, she hadn’t expected such a devastating move—Qi Zhongxuan would forever bear the infamy of disregarding human ethics, and Xu Yuan’s last shred of dignity had been shattered.

Whether they lived or died would depend on the authority’s decisions. In any case, consequences would be severe.

—How could she willingly confine herself to this secluded mansion? Mu Lanshi thought.

A cool breeze swept by, revealing snow-white skin.

Above them, the marks of their passion on the door frame remained.

***

TL/Note:

岭南 Lǐng nán south of the five ranges; old term for south China, esp. Guangdong and Guangxi

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jin_(mass) The jin (Chinese: 斤; pinyin: jīn) or catty (from Malay kati) is a traditional Chinese unit of mass used across East and Southeast Asia, notably for weighing food and other groceries.