Chapter 4

       About a shichen later that is, two hours by the old reckoning whispers began rippling through every corridor of the Liu household.

The eldest young miss, Liu Mei, had awakened.

And her first action? Not to request food or tea. Not to inquire after the weather or admire her own reflection, as she was once fond of doing. No , she had punished Second Miss Liu Yan, her own younger sister.

The manor was shaken.

Maids gasped behind beaded curtains. Older servants whispered in stunned clusters. Even the steward paused mid-scroll. Everyone knew how close the two sisters had been how Liu Mei once kneeled in the ancestral hall for two whole hours just to spare Liu Yan from their father’s anger. It was said she even covered for Liu Yan’s tantrums and mischief, shielding her like a jade screen. Liu Mei had always been the gentle, foolish one. A girl easily led, easily persuaded. Especially when it came to her charming, wilful younger sister.

So to hear that she had coldly, decisively ordered Second Miss Liu Yan to be punished by her own hand, without hesitation sent shockwaves through the manor. And the reason? Liu Yan had entered her elder sister’s courtyard and failed to offer a proper greeting.

Such a minor offense. Yet the punishment was real thirty strokes in the Discipline Courtyard and confined indoors for three days.

Something had changed, but they weren't sure yet.

    Later that day, as the pale sun dipped past the eastern wing of the estate, Liu Mei stepped out of her courtyard for the first time since her awakening.

Gone were the pastel pinks, embroidered butterflies, and trailing silk ribbons the original Liu Mei had once adored. Gone, too, was the soft-eyed girl who laughed too easily and bowed too low. In her place walked someone else entirely still Liu Mei by name, but not in spirit.

She wore a dark blue robe of understated elegance, the fabric thick and flowing, embroidered with silver thread in the shape of curling clouds and winter plum blossoms. The sleeves were wide, trailing like a scholar’s, yet precise and sharp at the edges. Her waist was cinched with a sash of deeper indigo, knotted high and neat, without a single ornamental jade pendant dangling to betray childish vanity. Her long black hair was pulled half-up, secured with a single silver hairpin shaped like a crane mid-flight. Not a flower or bow in sight.

It was the kind of outfit no one in the Liu Manor would have ever imagined Liu Mei wearing. It made her look older, colder. Like the kind of woman who didn't smile unless she meant to wound.

And yet she was breathtaking.

Her features, once described as "sweet" or "gentle," now seemed carved with calm authority. Her eyes, once doe-like and easy to read, now held a quiet, calculating sharpness beneath their long lashes. She no longer looked like a fragile beauty meant to be protected, but a celestial fairy who could walk among kings and still be feared. Beautiful like a fairy, deadly like Asura.

As she passed through the inner halls, even the wind seemed to pause.

Servants shrank back against the walls, bowing low but stealing glances as soon as her footsteps faded. The stewards didn’t dare call her name as she passed. the old ones who had once patted her head now kept a respectful distance. A few braver maids whispered.

“She looks like the Madam when she was young…”

“No, fiercer. That gaze… it chilled my spine.”

“She punished Second Miss without blinking, and now look she walks like the lady of the house already!”

Liu Mei said nothing to any of them. She simply walked.

Through the stone pathways and polished courtyards, past ancestral pavilions and quiet koi ponds she observed everything. Every crack in the tile. Every unfamiliar servant. Every sideways glance. The original Liu Mei might have wandered these halls in search of play or gossip. But this Liu Mei was patrolling her territory.

And she was making it known,the true eldest mistress of the Liu household had returned.

    The polished tiles of the corridor gleamed under the waning light, catching hints of silver from Liu Mei’s robes as she moved with unhurried grace. Her maid, Xiaoqing, followed a step behind, quiet as a shadow but ever alert to her mistress's pace and expression.

They turned into the west corridor the one leading toward the lesser courtyards, where quiet servants and overlooked women were kept out of sight and mind. A place where ambition either died or turned into something far more dangerous.

A soft scuffling sound came ahead. The rustle of silk hastily smoothed, and hurried footsteps retreating into a low curtsy. A young woman knelt by the edge of the path, head bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the marble.

“Greeting to Eldest Miss,” she murmured, voice trembling. “This lowly one did not know the esteemed young miss would pass through this way…”

Liu Mei paused.

Her eyes rested on the girl’s bowed head for a breath longer than necessary. She was pretty in a quiet, unnoticed way round-cheeked with delicate brows and skin pale from lack of sunlight. Her robe was modest, the fabric thin and plain, but clean. A thin blue ribbon tied her hair at the base of her neck. Simple. Unadorned.

A nucai not a servant, not a concubine, not quite anything. The lowest-ranked of women in a noble household, bought or gifted like fine porcelain, often given new names and no true status. To speak of love or dignity for them was to speak of poetry in a butcher’s stall.

Liu Mei recognized her instantly.

Chu Yuyan.

She was young barely twenty and had been sent as a reward from the governor of Huai Province, a token of goodwill to General Liu after the border campaign. The Furen, Liu Mei’s mother, had accepted her graciously, praised her manners and appearance, and handed her over to her husband with a smile as cold as jade. But the general had never once visited her courtyard.

And so Chu Yuyan remained a delicate vase on a forgotten shelf, polished for display and left to gather dust. No friends, no protectors. The servants called her "the silent flower" when they were kind, and worse when they weren’t.

Liu Mei’s lashes lowered.

According to the book…

She remembered now five years from this very season, Chu Yuyan would finally catch the general’s eye. A few rare visits. Whispers of her bearing his child. But then came Liu Yan and her venomous mother, like snakes scenting warm blood. A tipped tea tray. Herbal tampering. A miscarriage blamed on “bad luck.” And then, the final insult a discarded life, ended in silence within her own courtyard.

A quiet, almost unremarkable tragedy.

Liu Mei’s jaw set, but her expression betrayed nothing. She did not offer a hand or a kind word. She wasn’t here to rewrite fates with sympathy.

She was here to observe.

To remember.

To strike when it mattered.

“Raise your head,” Liu Mei said softly.

Chu Yuyan lifted her face, wide eyes blinking in surprise. She was lovely, even now, with that soft, startled look of a deer who hadn’t yet learned the nature of wolves.

Their gazes met.

Liu Mei’s voice, when she spoke again, was cool and level. “You reside in the Willow Courtyard, do you not?”

“Yes, Eldest Miss,” Chu Yuyan answered quickly. “This lowly one tends to the flowers there, and does not often leave.”

Liu Mei inclined her head in the barest nod.

“Keep doing so.”

It was not permission. It was not praise. But the girl’s shoulders relaxed as if it had been a blessing.

Liu Mei turned and walked on, the crane pin in her hair catching the last glint of sun. Xiaoqing hurried after her.