In the blink of an eye, my brother’s birthday was drawing near.

He had always been a man who loved festivity, and every birthday called for a banquet and a gathering of good company, drinking and merrymaking until no one was left standing. This time, Xiao Qi and I had put a great deal of thought into preparing a worthy gift. In the records of earlier scholars, there was an account of a man of the Wei dynasty named Jia Cuan, wealthy and widely learned, who had once sent an old man out on a small boat to the middle of the Yellow River, where he used a gourd to collect water from the river’s Kunlun source. In a single day only seven or eight sheng could be gathered, and the color of the water turned deep crimson overnight. The wine brewed from this water was called “Kunlun Shang” — its fragrance was mellow and pure, a rarity in the world. Jia Cuan had once presented thirty hu of “Kunlun Shang” to Emperor Zhuang of Wei.

My brother had once made a wager with me that he did not believe this legend was true. And now Xiao Qi had sought out a master brewer. I followed the ancient formula myself, applying every bit of ingenuity I possessed, and finally succeeded in producing it.

The jade vessel was unsealed. The aroma of the wine billowed out, rich and intoxicating, drifting through the entire courtyard.

“This is — Kunlun Shang!” My brother froze. Then he looked at me with deep emotion. “A’Wu, you still remembered the Kunlun Shang.”

“Yes, I always remembered.” My brother and I looked at each other and smiled — not a word needed, each perfectly understanding the other’s heart. We had been born to boundless privilege. There was almost nothing rare or precious in this world that could not be obtained — with the sole exception of those mythical, elusive things found only in legend. That was precisely why my brother took such a passionate interest in everything strange and marvelous described in ancient texts. He had always longed for the Kunlun Shang, and yet had not believed such a wine truly existed. And so I had told him: whatever exists in this world, I will find a way to obtain it; and what does not exist, I will make it myself.

At the time, my brother had heard my boastful declaration and burst into laughter, then told me: A’Wu, I hope you carry this spirit with you all your life.

Today was a family banquet at the Prince Jiangxia residence. More than half the seats were occupied by my brother’s concubines — a dazzling array of fragrant silks and elaborate coiffures, the melodious sounds of warblers and orioles filling the air. The concubines and maids from each household competed not only to outshine one another during the banquet, but also racked their minds to present birthday gifts that might earn them one pleased glance from my brother. My eyes were dazzled by the glittering display. Even Xiao Qi shook his head with a laugh more than once.

I glanced sidelong at Xiao Qi and laughed softly. “Watching another man sit surrounded by beauties, basking in such good fortune — does someone feel any regret?”

He turned and smiled. “With a hundred beauties and a thousand charms, none can compare to the one before me.”

I lowered my gaze and said nothing, my heart as sweet as if I had drunk from a fine vintage — yet beneath the sweetness ran a faint undercurrent of ache. For the sake of this one sentence of his, for the sake of guarding my place as the only one — how many more storms would I have to face in this life?

I turned my head without thinking, and glanced toward the side table where my aunt and Qian’er were seated — only to find Qian’er’s pair of bright, limpid eyes fixed steadily upon Xiao Qi and me. In their shimmering depths burned an eager, fervent longing, and beneath that, something like an ocean of helpless, wistful sadness.

A sudden alarm rose in my chest. I turned back to look at Xiao Qi — he had noticed nothing, busy raising his cup in a toast with my brother. I turned back to Qian’er. She had already half-lowered her face and was sitting quietly, her slender shoulders not yet fully grown, carrying a barely perceptible loneliness.

A young girl’s hidden feelings — how could I fail to recognize them? This child — could it be she had truly developed feelings for Xiao Qi? A hundred different sensations surged up at once. I picked up my cup but lost all desire to drink.

“What is it — are you tired?” Xiao Qi’s voice drew my thoughts back. I looked up into his concerned gaze and could only shake my head faintly.

When the wine had reached half its course, many of the guests were beginning to feel its pleasant warmth. My aunt suddenly leaned forward with a smile and said, “My youngest daughter is not particularly talented, but she has prepared a small gift today to offer in celebration of your birthday.”

My brother laughed heartily. “Aunt is too courteous. Qian’er’s thoughtfulness is already enough to gladden the heart greatly.”

Qian’er rose with easy grace, smiling radiantly as she stepped forward. “Thanks to my Xiu-brother’s teaching, Qian’er has dared to put brush to paper. This is a rough sketch to wish Xiu-brother joy on his birthday — I hope Xiu-brother, my brother-in-law, and my sister will kindly offer their guidance.”

My brother applauded in delighted praise. A maidservant behind my aunt stepped forward with a scroll in hand, approaching at a measured pace.

“This child is rather clever and interesting.” Xiao Qi smiled with approval. I gave my aunt a glance, then turned back to Xiao Qi with a faint smile. “She’s nearly fifteen — hardly a child anymore. You are underestimating her.”

He seemed to reflect on this. “Fifteen?”

My heart gave a brief pause. I kept my expression serene and held my breath, waiting to hear what he would say next.

“That was how old you were when you married me.” He smiled with a trace of wistfulness and took my hand in a firm clasp. “You were so young then, and I caused you such unhappiness. At least there is still time now to make amends.”

A pang seized my heart, and I found I could not speak. I simply turned my hand and interlaced my fingers with his.

A wave of admiring exclamations arose from the banquet. Qian’er had personally spread open the painting scroll in the maidservant’s hands. On the scroll were depicted two female immortals with their hair swept up in high cloud-coils, standing side by side hand in hand, as though drifting above the clouds. The brushwork was still girlish and uncertain, yet it was remarkably evocative, and the figures looked strangely familiar.

“You have painted beauties as a gift for me?” My brother laughed and clapped his hands in great amusement.

Qian’er lifted her head. A flush rose in her cheeks, and she darted a quick glance in our direction, biting her lip. “It is the Consorts of the Xiang River.”

“The daughters of Yao — Ehuang and Nüying?” My brother started slightly, fixed his gaze on the painting again, and his expression subtly shifted. Not only did my brother’s face change — even Xiao Qi’s smile faded, and his brows drew together slightly as he looked toward the scroll.

I looked closely. The two female immortals in the painting bore a vague resemblance to each other. On careful examination, one faintly resembled Qian’er’s features, while the other unmistakably carried my own likeness.

Some in the company still had not grasped the meaning; others had caught the undertone in what was said. A subtle, charged silence fell.

“Is Qian’er hinting that my household is not lively enough, and I should bring in Zhuyan’s beautiful little sister to join us as well?” My brother laughed with carefree abandon and adroitly steered the conversation away from the undercurrent.

The concubine Zhuyan was a straightforward woman who had not caught the innuendo. She immediately shot back with a playful retort: “My little sister has already been promised to someone. Is the Prince planning to take a woman by force?”

I curved my lips in a faint smile and cut her off with a laugh: “I am afraid it is your Prince who is flattering himself — reading the wrong meaning into Qian’er’s intentions.”

Qian’er raised her eyes to look at me. Her face turned crimson at once.

“Looking at this painting — it does not seem as though it was made for your Xiu-brother at all.” I said in a teasing tone. “Qian’er, have I guessed correctly?”

My brother and Xiao Qi both turned to look at me at the same moment. Qian’er’s face blazed an even deeper red. She bit her lip and let her head drop low.

I swept a calm glance around the table. I saw my aunt struggling to suppress a smile, Xiao Qi with his brow drawn tightly, and my brother looking as though he wanted to speak and yet was holding back.

“Brother, why not do someone a kindness and have this painting properly mounted and preserved, then send it to the Wu household in Jiangnan — to bring about a good union.”

Qian’er’s body gave a jolt. All color drained from her face at once. My brother’s expression flooded with relief. Xiao Qi wore a smile that was not quite a smile. My aunt sat stunned as though turned to wood — every person’s expression was reflected clearly in my eyes. I smiled as I met every gaze in the room, without flinching.

She wanted to play Ehuang and Nüying — what a pity, Aunt, you have mistaken your mark.

On the journey back to the residence after the banquet, I sat alone leaning against the side of the carriage, my spirits low and heavy.

The scene just now, though I had vented my feelings in a moment of indignation, left me with not a shred of joy or satisfaction once the flash of temper had passed. She was a girl of the same surname and clan — for things to have come to this point between us, was it truly only for one man, or for the supreme power in that man’s hands? My victory had been won by treading on another woman’s devastation. What was there to rejoice in?

When we reached the residence gates, I stepped straight down from the carriage without waiting for Xiao Qi to come help me. I turned and walked directly into the inner courtyard without looking back, in no frame of mind for talk or laughter.

I removed my powder and ornaments and sat blankly before the mirror, my hair unbound, holding a jade comb and staring at a glass palace lamp burning nearby.

Xiao Qi was standing behind me at some unknown moment, silently looking at my reflection in the mirror without speaking. In his eyes lay a faint shadow of guilt.

After a long silence, he sighed and drew me lightly into his arms. His fingers threaded through my thick, long hair, and through the gaps in his fingers a tender warmth seeped down.

The stubborn pride I had sustained for so long dissolved entirely in that moment. Only a deep exhaustion remained, and a keen, stinging ache.

Today I could drive away one Wang Qian. What of the future — how many more people would I need to guard against, how many more battles of open arrows and hidden lances? Even if his love for me never faded and I could hold Xiao Qi’s heart for the whole of my life — the man before me was first and foremost the sovereign of a great domain, and only secondly my husband. The weight of my place against the weight of his realm in his heart — I had never dared presume to measure it.

Those vows of mountains and seas, when set before the altar of empire and state, were no heavier than a feather.

“I have never spoken to anyone of my family.” He began in a low voice, at this unlikely moment, saying something entirely beside the point.

I was momentarily startled. If one were to speak of the legendary origins of Prince Yuzhang Xiao Qi, it was a story the world already knew — a humble commoner from Huazhou, his entire clan wiped out in the wars, who had enlisted as a soldier from boyhood, rising from the lowest ranks through accumulated military merit until he held power over all under heaven.

Through these years at his side, I had never proactively raised the subject of his past. I feared that any remark touching on distinctions of birth might displease him.

“In truth, I still have kinsmen living.” His smile was faint, his expression calm.

I looked up sharply, staring at him in astonishment. His gaze drifted past me to some unknowable point in the distance, and he said slowly: “I was born in Guangling, not in Huazhou.”

“The Xiao Family of Guangling?” I was taken aback. That clan, renowned for their lofty reputation and remarkable talent, had always held themselves aloof from power and prestige, living in seclusion in Guangling for generations. When it came to distinctions of birth and lineage, they were perhaps the most exacting of all the great families.

Xiao Qi smiled with a trace of self-mockery. “That is correct. Huazhou was my late mother’s homeland — she was indeed of humble origins.”

“My late mother was not even a concubine in name. I have never known how she came to give birth to me. I was regarded as a disgrace to the family line. My mother died of illness when I was eleven. Two years later, my father also passed away. At that point I stole some silver and ran from the Xiao household, making my way toward Huazhou. Halfway there I lost my travel money and was left hungry and cold, with nothing. I happened upon a military recruitment and so enlisted. My original intent was simply to get enough to eat and keep warm. I never imagined things would come to where they are today.” He recounted all of this in a few brief sentences, with an air of indifference, as though telling someone else’s story that had nothing to do with him. My heart ached without finding words — I could feel clearly the loneliness and grief of that stubborn boy, even as I struggled to express it. I could only hold his hand in silence.

“I have had concubines in the past. Whenever one shared my bed, I would without fail administer a preventive medicine.” Xiao Qi’s voice dropped lower. “Of all things in my life, what I have hated most is the distinction between the cold and the honored, the difference between legitimate and base-born. If my children were also to bear the disadvantage of their birth mother’s status, they would inevitably suffer the same injustice. Before I encountered a woman worthy of becoming my principal wife, I chose to leave no offspring by any other.”

I found no words to speak. I held his hand tightly in silence, the thousand flavors in my heart beyond all naming.

“How greatly heaven has favored me, to give me a wife such as you in this life.” He bowed his head and looked at me deeply. “Yet things in this world can never all be as one wishes. Years in the army — countless men killed at my hands. Where my iron hooves passed, who knows how many women and children died in misery. If heaven has decreed punishment for this, condemning me to die without an heir, then there is no ground for complaint.” He spoke in this way plainly to comfort me — and the more he did so, the more desolate my heart became.

“I have already made up my mind.” Xiao Qi smiled as he looked at me, his words light and unhurried. “If we have no children all our lives, then we will adopt a child from among my kinsmen. What do you say?”

I closed my eyes. Tears fell like a string of broken beads.

He would give up his own blood descendants for me — content to have no heir of his own.

Such depth of feeling, such encompassing loyalty — even to surrender an entire life would not be sufficient repayment.

Attendant Xu reported to me first thing in the morning that after the humiliation Qian’er had suffered, she could not bear the shame and grief. The previous night she had very nearly hanged herself, declaring she would sooner die than be sent to Jiangnan.

I was in the middle of using small silver scissors to trim the flower branches. When Attendant Xu finished her report, my hand tightened slightly, and with a snap, a section of branch was cut clean through.

“If she had truly intended to die, I suspect it would not be ‘very nearly’ — it would already be done.” I said evenly, dropping the severed branch without a trace of emotion.

Women who made a show of wanting to die, using their lives as a threat, were the sort I had always found most contemptible. One’s life is given by one’s parents — if even oneself places no value on it, who else will? Such a foolish woman was not worth anyone’s pity.

“Then this servant will go and make arrangements for the wedding.” Attendant Xu never spoke unnecessarily. She simply inclined her head and waited for my instructions.

I fell silent for a long while. In the courtyard, pink and white peach blossoms fell with the wind, scattering everywhere in vivid profusion, turning to dust in the blink of an eye. Over the course of a thousand years, I supposed that nine out of ten women in this world had a fate as fleeting as these blossoms.

I let out a slow breath. “After all, she is the daughter of Uncle. Even though she is base-born, she cannot simply be married off without any title or standing.”

Attendant Xu smiled slowly. “The Princess Consort is truly compassionate.”

I thought of my aunt’s gaze, which was always calculating at every moment, and felt genuinely incapable of extending mercy in her direction. I said quietly: “Also find a suitable family elsewhere and have her married off far away, so she cannot stir up any more trouble. As for my aunt — keep her confined for now at the Duke Zhenguo’s residence. Once the happy occasion is over, send her back to the ancestral home.”

After the matter of Qian’er, I truly felt my heart grow cold. The threat from within one’s own kin was what I found truly alarming — it made me doubt whether there was anyone left worth trusting. I did not know how many people, in open sight or hidden, were coveting everything that was mine. In their eyes, I was in a position of limitless splendor, possessing everything a woman in the world most desired — not knowing that the more firmly I gripped what I held in one hand, the more the other hand had already lost. One Wang Qian could be driven away. If in the future there were ten, or a hundred Wang Qians — what then?

Having no children was ultimately my fatal weakness, and in all likelihood Xiao Qi’s as well. If there was no child to inherit everything we had built with our own hands, then after a hundred years, who would be left to shelter his empire and my family?

I could not reconcile myself to simply giving up. After long deliberation, I finally resolved to make a decisive attempt.

Everything proceeded quietly under my arrangement. I began each day to secretly reduce my dosage of medicine, until finally I stopped taking it altogether. I had not defied the prescription in so many years that Xiao Qi had long since relaxed his vigilance over this matter and no longer paid attention to it.

What remained, I could only pray to heaven, beseeching it to grant me one more chance. For this, I would willingly forfeit ten years of my life without regret.

Two days later, Xiao Qi received a petition. I happened to be personally bringing tea to the study when I found him standing with his hands clasped behind him, his brow furrowed in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” I set the tea on the desk with a smile.

“A’Wu, come here.” Xiao Qi looked up at me, his expression grave and composed, and handed the petition across to me. I bent my gaze to read it, and a single line leapt out at me: “The Son of Heaven wages war and conquest — this is the exclusive right of the supreme general. The four seas and distant lands have already been subdued and overawed. Now we humbly implore the heavenly court to grant a woman of the Wang family in marriage. From this point on we will forge a matrimonial alliance, and the two nations will live in harmony and peace, sparing bloodshed in the years to come…”

I was greatly startled and quickly picked it up to read more carefully. I heard Xiao Qi’s voice beside me, unhurried: “It is Helan Zhen.”

I stiffened. My gaze lingered for a long while on the five characters — “grant a woman of the Wang family.”

Every time I was on the verge of banishing this name to oblivion forever, he would appear in some inexplicable and uncanny way — as though to remind me that out there, in the distant northern frontier, there existed such a person, one who would not permit me to forget him. He was already king of the Tujue. Even if he wished to seek a marriage alliance with the imperial family, he should have sought a princess from the imperial clan. The Wang Family’s current generation was thin in numbers. Both Pei’er and I were already married. Only Qian’er remained unmarried. Helan Zhen was evidently requesting the hand of my cousin by name.

A marriage alliance between two countries was a matter of profound benefit to the people — it could not be decided on impulse. Regardless of who was sent, such a decision was not his to dictate. This was ostensibly a fine thing — forging a matrimonial bond — yet he had made the demand with deliberate arrogance.

My feelings were a tangle I could not sort through. I turned to look at Xiao Qi and said, with a wry smile: “Is he not specifically naming Qian’er?”

Xiao Qi smiled. “Though he holds the throne as a puppet master holds a puppet, his tone is as arrogant as ever.”

“Then — will you agree or refuse?” I was suddenly apprehensive.

“What do you think?” Xiao Qi too furrowed his brows faintly.

I was momentarily thrown, my thoughts scattered by this sudden development. Qian’er, whatever her faults, was still a woman of my own surname and clan. If she were sent far away to the Tujue, would it simply ruin the rest of her life?

The pale sunlight outside the window enveloped us both. Tiny motes of dust drifted in the air. Time seemed to pause.

After a long silence, he said quietly: “A peace marriage is a good thing. I have been looking for the right moment to send a reliable man out there to recall Tang Jing.”

Tang Jing had always been among Xiao Qi’s most trusted and valued generals, deeply relied upon. He had also rendered great service in helping Helan seize the succession and rein in the Tujue. He had been stationed at the northern frontier ever since, commanding several hundred thousand troops, and was effectively a regional overlord in all but name — his position second only to Hu and Song.

I was mildly surprised. “Tang Jing has committed no fault — why this sudden recall?”

“Tang Jing is by nature sharp-edged and severe, and has always been at odds with his colleagues. Lately, petitions denouncing him from within the army have been growing more numerous. Though jealousy cannot be ruled out, when so many voices say the same thing, there may well be cause behind the clamor.” Xiao Qi’s brow furrowed deeply, and a look of concern crossed his face.

I said nothing. Replacing the frontier commander was no small matter, especially with the Tujue still close at hand — a centipede that dies but does not fall stiff. At this critical juncture, Xiao Qi did not wish to invite further complications. Since Helan Zhen had demanded a woman of the Wang Family, then so be it.

The matter of sending Qian’er for the peace marriage was settled then and there. I sent word for Qian’er to come to the residence the following day, so I could tell her in person.

After bathing, I was arranging my hair when Qian’er arrived. I had her wait in the main hall first.

After a short while, A’Yue came rushing in to tell me that the second young miss, heedless of the servants’ attempts to stop her, had barged directly into the study and was there making a tearful scene before the Prince — she seemed to have already learned the news of the peace marriage.

I was startled. For word of the peace marriage deliberations to have leaked so quickly — the source was almost certainly a concubine in my brother’s household who was on close terms with my aunt and had passed on the message. With no other option, I instructed A’Yue: “Go over there and watch. If anything happens, come back to me immediately. If all is calm, bring her here to see me in the inner chamber.”

Only a moment passed before A’Yue returned, her face flushed, struggling to suppress the laughter she clearly couldn’t contain.

I looked at her in puzzlement. “What is it?”

“The second young miss is really something else…” A’Yue’s face turned red, and she finally couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter. “She actually broke into a tearful fit right in front of the Prince, and nearly flung herself headlong into the screen!”

I frowned. “And then?”

A’Yue let out a suppressed laugh. “The Prince said only one sentence: ‘That is my wife’s favorite rosewood — don’t damage it.'”

When Qian’er came in, her eyes were still red. The moment she saw me she dropped heavily to her knees, weeping and begging me to let her stay, saying she would rather shave her head and enter a convent than be sent far away to the Tujue.

I watched her in silence. All this time I had thought of her as merely a rash and ignorant child, one whose heart could not be truly malicious. Now, studying her carefully and recalling every scene in which she had appeared… The first time, at the Duke Zhenguo’s residence, when she had boldly and brilliantly thrown snowballs at Xiao Qi. At the birthday banquet, sending him warm glances directly, openly declaring her admiration. Here at the residence, weeping her grievances and threatening to die rather than go to Jiangnan… It seemed as though every occasion had been perfectly arranged — now guileless, now passionately devoted, now pitiable — precisely calculated to stir a man’s tender feelings. If the man had not been Xiao Qi, but instead my brother, or Zidan, or someone else… I could not imagine what a different outcome might have been. Some temptations are not ones every man can bring himself to refuse.

Under heaven, nine out of ten men prefer a gentle and soft-natured woman. Not every man can, as Xiao Qi does, set aside convention and sincerely appreciate a woman who stands as his equal.

My thoughts drifted away, and old memories surfaced without warning. Years ago, watching Noble Consort Xie in her gentle, unresisting way, I had felt indignant on her behalf and asked my aunt why she could not simply let her be. My aunt had answered then in words that now rang out, clear as ever, in my memory: “In this palace, there is no such thing as an innocent person. When you are older, you will understand — the most frightening woman is not the one who is openly assertive, but the one everyone believes to be simple and yielding.”

A chill crept gradually into my body. A gentle breeze fluttered through my sleeve, carrying with it a strange coldness.

Qian’er stood with lowered head before me, her pair of tearful eyes not daring to look directly at me, her lips — red as water chestnuts — bitten and released, bitten again, until at last she choked out her words: “Qian’er knows she was wrong and will accept whatever punishment Sister chooses to give, without a word of complaint. I only beg to be allowed to remain at my mother’s side. She has suffered hardship all her life and asks only to live out her days in peace — she has no other wish. Sister has already been married far away — if you now cause our mother yet again to endure the agony of separation from her child, Sister — how can your conscience bear it?”

A seemingly forlorn and fragile creature, and yet every word struck directly at the most vulnerable point. Beneath the appearance of a gentle lamb, the sharp little teeth of a small beast had finally shown themselves.

I said quietly: “Qian’er, have you thought it through clearly — do you truly not wish to go through with this peace marriage?”

“I will submit entirely to Sister’s decision. Even if Sister chooses to betroth me elsewhere, I will not dare have another word of complaint.” Her bright eyes shifted slightly, and her soft weeping continued.

To arrange another marriage would also be a reasonable way out — a path that would preserve both face and substance. I smiled faintly. For one so young, her scheming ran remarkably deep. Seeing that the situation had turned against her, she knew enough to fall back and protect herself.

“You are a clever child.” I looked at her steadily. “But it is too late to look for an escape now. I gave you room to make a choice, and you were the one who reached too far.”

Qian’er froze momentarily, not expecting me to drop all pretense so abruptly and lay everything bare. She was left speechless.

“Since we are not strangers, there is no need for hollow pleasantries.” I was still smiling, but the warmth in my voice had turned entirely to cold. “At this moment you still have two options. Either go through with the peace marriage to the Tujue, or take the tonsure and enter a convent.”

Qian’er’s complexion went white as paper in an instant. She finally understood that I was truly angry, understood that once I turned my face, I would show no mercy.

Today Wang Qian alone had dared to challenge me. If I did not make an example of her, in the future more people would come to believe they could exploit my soft-heartedness and presume to covet everything that was mine.

To protect my family, I could resort to any means necessary. Naturally I also dared to pay any price to remove a hidden threat at my side.

She knelt down. Her knees struck the cold, hard floor. Tears streamed down her face in torrents. “Sister, Qian’er was wrong! In those past days I harbored intentions I had no right to harbor. Now I know I was mistaken — I beg Sister, for the sake of our shared blood as daughters of the Wang family, to forgive Qian’er!”

“The peace marriage has already been decided. Prepare yourself as soon as possible.” I rose to my feet, my heart in turmoil, no longer willing to remain entangled with her.

She suddenly seized my sleeve and cried out: “Do you truly mean to drive me to utter ruin?”

I was not angry — I smiled instead. I turned and looked at her, and said slowly, word by word: “If I meant to drive you to utter ruin, you would not be standing here now.”

The coldness in my words struck her like a blow. She stared at me blankly, her face full of panic, as though she no longer recognized me.

“Sister, you truly have a vicious hand…” Qian’er gave a bitter laugh. Across her face, an expression of utter despair slowly spread. Her former soft fragility stripped away. From her eyes burst a sharp, needle-like glint.

She raised her head with defiant stubbornness, biting her lip, and swept her sleeve back as she stood — the real Qian’er was before me now, the daughter my aunt had raised with her own hands. The guileless, innocent girl had been nothing but an empty shell.

“No matter how beautiful or cruel you are, one day you will grow old. You cannot bear children — you have no sons or daughters. Eventually some woman will replace you and take everything you have now! By that time, lonely and forsaken, ending your days in bleak desolation — that will be your punishment!” She burst out laughing, laughing louder and louder, as though she had witnessed something more amusing than anything in the world.

What had turned a fifteen-year-old girl into something so worldly-wise? What had made a girl of such tender years capable of a hatred this deep and bitter?

Cold sweat seeped from my back. My hands and feet were numb with wave after wave of chill. I fought to suppress the churning in my chest and said in a low, steady voice: “Someone come — escort the second young miss back to the residence.”

Watching Qian’er’s figure grow smaller and smaller in the distance, I felt wave after wave of dizziness. I opened my mouth to call for A’Yue — and then plunged suddenly into darkness.