Dàilán slept the sleep of the exhausted and emotionally wrung out, the dull weight of yesterday's exertion still lodged in her limbs, only waking at the sound of a knock at the door, breath dragging her back to awareness.
"I am indisposed," she called out, her voice roughened by sleep and disuse, after waking in startlement and realising what had woken her.
"Apologies, Third Youngest Daughter," replied an unfamiliar female voice, the words delivered with careful neutrality, neither warm nor apologetic. "The Clan Matriarch requests your company for breakfast at Chén initial."
A pulse of frustration pushed her lingering tiredness away, sharp enough to clear the fog from her thoughts. The last thing she needed was to deal with the games of the inner house. With control born of long practice, she forced her voice to reply evenly. "The Young Mistress accepts her Grandmother's kind invitation."
There was a quiet rustle of footsteps leaving the door. Dàilán swore internally as she quickly left her bed, the cool stone biting faintly into her bare feet, and crossed the room to open the shutters and check the courtyard water clock.
Seeing the time mark, her eyes widened slightly. It was already the first kè of the second half of Mǎo. That gave her barely three kè to prepare.
Tapping the maid-servant call in a rarely used urgent pattern, she darted for the bath and triggered the hot-water pump, the faint vibration of the mechanism travelling through the tiled floor beneath her feet as she discarded her robe.
As steaming water, glimmering faintly with water Essence, bubbled up from vents that opened at the base of the tub, Dàilán turned to plait her hair in a quick twist, suddenly thankful for the Essence-powered plumbing and heating that her mother had instead had installed in their wing so many years ago.
The time and heat saving measure meant she did not have to wait for servants to heat and bring the water for bathing as was common even in some lesser noble houses. As she jumped into the filling bath, heat blooming sharply against skin still cool from sleep, she heard the muted thud of doors and hurried footfalls echoed faintly from the corridor beyond.
Thankfully, the maids had responded quickly—possibly motivated more by concern than duty, as she rarely used the maid call—let alone the urgent one. Usually Chén'er was sufficient for her requirements if she could not handle something herself, a thought that tightened briefly in her chest before she pressed it aside.
Ruthlessly suppressing the tears that threatened to fall at the thought of why Chén'er was not here this morning, Dàilán scrubbed briskly with the scented soap she usually avoided, the sharp floral note cutting through the steam, clean and almost biting.
"Young Mistress?" came a concerned query from just beyond the bathing screen, the voice careful not to intrude.
"The Madame has summoned me for breakfast in less than three kè," Dàilán replied, elbowing off the water pump as the sudden quiet left only the soft lap of water against stone. "I require assistance to be presentable to her… expectations."
"Please lay out appropriate dress, accessories, and makeup while I wash," she added, keeping her tone clipped and leaving no space for comment.
A stifled gasp and hurried whispers followed, urgency outweighing decorum as one set of footsteps retreated.
A brisk voice spoke, already half-turned toward action. "Chàng has gone to get Ài—she is best at hair and makeup. I will select appropriate dress. May the Young Mistress please hurry."
"En."
She dunked her face and hair, rinsing away the last of sleep. She had not washed it since yesterday's training and moved quickly now, shampooing with efficient strokes, guiding Essence through her hair to keep it aligned as she worked the cleansing liquid through. It was not something she usually bothered with, but in the interests of time she made the concession.
Warm water streamed down her spine, loosening muscles she had not realised were still clenched.
After a moment's thought, she sprinkled a few drops of an expensive Essence-based perfume into the bath and churned the water across her skin, exfoliating and embedding the scent evenly. The fragrance bloomed slowly, rich but restrained, clinging close rather than spreading.
Occasionally, being skilled in advanced Essence manipulation brought unexpected dividends. She would like to see the flower vases manage that with their so-called appropriate cultivation techniques, she thought savagely, the observation bringing her a brief, sharp curl of satisfaction.
It was clear her grandmother had expected her to be caught unprepared—she knew Dàilán had not eaten for the last day and lacked her usual maid-in-waiting. The timing was too neat to be coincidence. She ignored the spasm of hunger that twisted through her middle, stomach tightening before stilling under disciplined control. She would not give the old crone that satisfaction.
Bathing complete, she stepped out quickly, expelling the water clinging to her skin with a pulse of Essence. Damp strands clung stubbornly to her neck and shoulders; that particular trick of Essence never quite resolved without damaging hair, so she was forced to leave it wet.
Two more sets of rushing footsteps announced the return of, presumably, Chàng with Ài as she stepped from the bathroom and into the traditional underclothes the other maid held out, wrapping them around Dàilán efficiently, cool air brushing her skin as the fabric settled into place.
"Young Mistress? The purple or blue robes—the others are not suitable," the maid helping her dress asked as another blotted her hair, cloth cool and dry against her skin.
The last maid—Ài, she supposed—moved to the dresser, older and elegantly coiffed, her movements economical and born of long habit rather than haste.
"Immortality and advancement over divinity and advancement, please," Dàilán said, keeping her gaze level and her voice steady despite the time pressing in.
The maids giggled. "Planning to tweak the dragon's whiskers, Young Mistress?" they asked as silk slid into place with practiced ease, its weight settling across her shoulders.
"Not like she does not deserve it, pulling this," Dàilán replied dryly, irritation kept carefully in check. "I will apologise for the lack of alternatives, of course. But the purple would be more honest."
"The other heiresses would choke either way," the older woman said as she pulled an elaborate purple headdress out. Metal and stone chimed softly as the ornaments swung against one another. "Let us do both, then," she said.
Dàilán coughed, eyes wide. "Do you have time to organise such an elaborate hair arrangement? I must be there within two kè."
"Relax, mistress," Ài said, confidence quiet and unshowy. "You are not the only one with Essence tricks. Your complexion is excellent—we will need only enough makeup for proper presentation."
"Matron has also sent word to Chén'er," she added. "She will meet you at the Phoenix Gate."
The words landed like a small, unexpected relief as Dàilán startled, earning a hiss from the maids as the last ties were secured, the robe tightening fractionally. "Careful, mistress."
Ài waved a hand and guided her to the makeup seat. "The Master has approved her release. Hold still." Cool fingers steadied her chin.
---
Within the kè, Dàilán walked toward the Women's Pavilion, the weight of the robes pulling subtly at her stride, each step measured to keep them from swaying. Essence smoothed the line of her movement, kept everything perfect.
At the Phoenix Gate she stopped and drew one slow breath, letting irritation sharpen rather than spill as she composed her expression.
Chénli appeared moments later, black-robed and immaculate, every line of her bow controlled. Dàilán returned it, attempting to go lower, but Chénli caught her shoulders and gently pushed her upright, grip firm and steadying rather than restraining.
"All is forgiven, sister," she murmured.
Dàilán nodded, bringing one hand up to cover her lips, and murmuring in return. "Likewise. You acted correctly."
"Good. Now is not the time," Chénli said, fan lifting to hide a brief smile before vanishing again. "You look regally irritated—excellent. It should make certain parties choke."
Dàilán flushed, warmth creeping up her neck. "I was trying to keep that out of my face. Is it that obvious?"
"Only to those who know you well," Chénli said lightly, deliberately easing her shoulders. "The rest will be envious you look and smell better three kè out of bed than they do after a full shí of pampering."
"Do not make me laugh," Dàilán snorted, gaze flicking toward the gate. "Honoured Grandmother will pick on the smallest smudge of rouge."
"Then she is out of luck," Chénli replied, posture tightening a fraction. "Let us go tweak the dragon's whiskers."
Moving forward, Chén'er dropped her hand, knocked on the gate and spoke loudly in a clear Essence-enhanced contralto. "The Young Mistress attends at the request of her Grandmother, with her lady-in-waiting."
There was a fractionally too-long pause and the two girls exchanged knowing glances as the gate swung open.
"They were not expecting both of us—and early," Chénli murmured as they stepped onto the path through the traditional garden beyond the gate, gravel whispering beneath their feet.
"I was not expecting you either," Dàilán replied as they crossed the bridge, water murmuring below, steady and indifferent. "I am glad Father released you."
"It was a shock to me as well—he seemed rather preoccupied and apologetic when he asked me to go watch your back the moment he got wind of what his Mother was pulling. I am only glad Essence healing salves work swiftly." She shook her head at Dàilán's surprised glance. "No time—watch out for snakes…"
Dàilán composed her face into a serene mask as they glided into the pavilion's main entry of the women's hall where the Matriarch held court on days when the weather was pleasant. As she stepped over the traditionally raised entrance, she briefly found herself wishing that the old superstition of avoiding bad luck by refusing to stand on a hall's threshold would hold true today.
The women's hall was already settled when they entered, its shape broad rather than tall, built to contain rather than impress. The stone beneath Dàilán's feet bore the quiet record of age—worn smooth where generations had passed, patched where repair had been chosen over replacement. Careful repairs showed, if one knew how to look: filled chips, replaced stones, lacquer thinned by generations of hands.
Stone pillars carved with layered mountain ridges rose on either side of the central walkway, their relief softened by age and careful polishing rather than replacement. Ink-washed silk panels of misted peaks hung between them, faintly yellowed but meticulously maintained.
It was cool enough to raise fine gooseflesh beneath her sleeves and even the soft sound of her steps seemed to carry farther than it should have in the air smelling of old scented woods, tea, and incense burned thin to avoid ostentation.
The building followed the old arrangement, unchanged despite the years. The rise at the far end of the hall was shallow — only a few steps — but she felt it immediately, the subtle reminder that the Matriarch's seat was always above eye level.
Her Grandmother sat there as she always had: alone, a small table set before a broad chair of darkened wood. The arms bore the polish of long use rather than ornament, their edges carved only with faint, layered ridges that echoed the outline of distant peaks.
Along both sides of the hall, individual low tables had been set facing inward, each paired with a narrow-backed chair on either side, their mismatches a quiet record of years rather than neglect. Rank was marked by distance, not decoration.
The nearer places to the dais were already occupied. Her cousins were seated at their assigned places, hands folded, eyes lowered, waiting. First Branch Line. Second Branch Line.
Dàilán's place lay further back, closer to the doors, with a breadth of open space around it that could not be mistaken for honour. She stilled her breath, letting the weight of her robes settle fully as she stopped the required nine paces from the dais and made the formal Clan Junior-to-Elder bow required, Chénli a pace behind her. "Granddaughter greets Grandmother and extends her wishes for a long life."
"Grandmother greets Third Granddaughter and accepts her gracious wishes," responded the elaborately dressed lady with the ancient eyes as she tapped her dragon-claw finger sheaths on the armrest of her chair and inclined her head. "Rise, Third Granddaughter."
The Matriarch's gaze swept her once, sharp and appraising, lingering a heartbeat longer than courtesy required before she nodded. "Your comportment gives us face—though it is an interesting choice of colours."
"Regretfully, Grandmother, the choices available to me were limited," Dàilán replied evenly, apology offered without submission. "I dared not delay." Only once the words were spoken did she allow the tension in her jaw to ease, Essence drawing the heat back from her neck.
A sharply pitched voice cut in. Silk whispered as its owner leaned forward. "Really, Third? I would happily lend you dresses I no longer need." The sound lingered too long in the hall, a faint disruption against the careful stillness.
Dàilán turned slightly to address her eldest cousin standing at her own table. "I thank you for your offer, but it was merely that I did not wish to make Grandmother wait. Perhaps the kitchen might be in need of some new rags?"
The oldest daughter of First Uncle paled, eyes narrowing as she opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut at the sound of a fingernail sheath tapping against wood, lowering her gaze a fraction too quickly.
"It is unseemly to bicker at breakfast, Third Daughter," the Matriarch said, voice carrying further than the words themselves. "But I had heard you were feeling indisposed earlier. It would certainly excuse a short temper."
Dàilán inclined her head respectfully. "I have not eaten yet, Grandmother. Possibly that would be to blame."
One cold eyebrow raised and there was a stir among the other guests. After a moment, the older lady tilted her head lightly. "It is indeed time for breakfast."
---
At the Matriarch's slight gesture, Dàilán and Chénli moved to the empty places already prepared for them.
Servants entered bearing the dishes, passing them to the personal maids at each table. Chénli received Dàilán's plate first, performing the customary checks before setting it in place.
This meant that Dàilán sat several empty seats away from where First and Second sat along the left and right sides of the hall's head, with Chénli as her only maid standing behind her. By the time it reached her, the rice had already begun to cool.
There was an affected bout of laughter from the Second Mistress. "Dear me, Third, does Third Uncle not give you enough funds to hire more servants? You look positively common, seated alone. Do you intend to serve your own food?"
Dàilán held up a small hand as she heard Chénli shift behind her, infusing her calm voice with Essence. "It is not a question of hiring. I am simply very particular about who I allow into my service."
There was a snort from the First Heiress's entourage. "Third has that much right at least. You cannot buy loyalty—not that you seem to understand that, Second."
The plumper Heiress huffed. "You are merely envious of my Father's success in business." She flicked satisfied eyes over her own group—bejewelled elaborately and dressed in multiple layers of the lightest silks—then sneered at the First Heiress's smaller entourage dressed more conservatively in thicker silks and semi-precious stones.
Another sharp rap of finger sheaths against wood caused the argument to subside as servants withdrew.
The young mistress suppressed a sigh as Chénli laid the plate in front of her, bowing low. "It is clear. Enjoy." The last word was definitely smirked.
"Very amusing, Chén'er," Dàilán shot back sotto voce as she grimaced down at the tiny, elaborately wrapped pickle accompanied by plum sauce and barely more than a mouthful of rice.
Glumly, she picked up her chopsticks and ate the minuscule amount of food as slowly as she could, carefully timing her final bite to coincide with her Grandmother's, keeping the older woman in the corner of her eye.
"It is of course important to be selective," came the older voice as the Matriarch leaned back, allowing her ladies-in-waiting to replace the dishes and utensils. "However, it is equally important not to be over selective."
Her gaze settled coolly on Dàilán.
"Yes, we do hear about how Third Daughter does not consider any of the First-Rank Clan Heirs good enough for her," said the First Heiress sharply. "Perhaps if she were willing to select one, the rest of us might have a chance."
Second Heiress scoffed. "Well, it is true how there is simply no accounting for taste." She flashed a look at Dàilán. "Still, it seems quite unseemly that we must wait on the youngest."
Dàilán smiled quietly and dipped her head toward the seats nearer the dais. "I quite agree, Cousin. Perhaps you might inquire of your Father why he insists on advancing my suite over either of yours, despite the clear inappropriateness. Neither my Father nor First Uncle," she added, dipping her head toward the First Heiress, "can seem able to convince Second Uncle that you are both much better choices to cement an alliance."
Her eldest cousin narrowed her eyes, while the younger gave an undignified squawk. "Father would never! We have an understanding with Ji—as soon as you are wed…"
Her voice trailed off as Dàilán met her gaze evenly.
"Let me make myself clear," Dàilán enunciated carefully, setting her chopsticks down with deliberate care, the soft click of wood on porcelain sounding louder than it should have, "I am too young to wed. Especially when there are two far better prospects within the Clan. I personally have no interest in being wed at this point—although I would do so for the good of the Clan if it becomes necessary."
"You speak as Line Heir?" came the sharp question from the dais as the next course was passed in, Chénli gently placing the plate and utensils in front of her.
Dàilán dropped her head towards the Matriarch. "I do."
"They call her 'Mist Orchid'," whined the Younger Cousin. "It is unfair…"
"That is a fancy based on a few over-flattering poems that some drunk poet came up with, Cousin," Dàilán replied, forcing herself to speak gently, rather than showing her distaste at the term to the slightly plump girl. "Certainly, either of you are more beautiful, objectively speaking, than I—I am sure both of you would agree to that."
Both Cousins' faces twitched with conflicting emotions, their own vanity and egos locking their responses against disagreeing with her as they usually did—especially as they would have to admit she was the better-looking girl at two and three years their junior. "Well… of course…"
"Then I would be very thankful to both my Big Sisters if you would make your stances on this subject clear to both your Fathers," Dàilán bowed towards the head of the table again, then picked up the chopsticks and busied herself with the new dish.
A moment passed as the taps and clicks of food being consumed dominated the hall.
"Your Mother and I did not see eye to eye on most things, Granddaughter," came from the head of the table as Dàilán laid her utensils down and gave the Matriarch her full attention. "However, I did approve of her insistence that daughters should have their marriages approved by Mothers, not set by men. I will speak to my sons and their wives. The matter is closed."
Dàilán felt the tightness in her shoulders ease by a fraction, then held herself still, refusing to let the release show as she joined the dutiful chorus of the three Heiresses, "Yes, Matriarch."
"No more business. It is time to eat," the Elder commanded.
---
Dàilán and Chénli burst into her suites and closed the door behind them, both of them pausing for a heartbeat to simply breathe. With the door shut, the weight of the morning settled back into Dàilán's limbs all at once.
"Thank the Heavens, I thought that meal would never end," breathed the Heiress as she collapsed back onto the bed.
"So very well done though, Mistress—whatever they had planned evidently did not work out as they expected," Chénli said with clear satisfaction. "Up—you do not want to ruin your dress."
She stepped forward to help untie the robe, but Dàilán brushed her hands away and instead crossed the room to the maid call, tapping the pattern for requesting assistance.
"You are hurting and need to change as well," she said, glancing back at her friend, "and the maids that helped me this morning deserve to know how effective their efforts were."
She hesitated, then added quietly, "Ài in particular."
"Yes, Young Mistress?" came the composed voice of the maid in question as the three women from earlier appeared at the door, bows already half-formed.
Dàilán rose and swept a proper bow to them in return. "I am grateful for your excellent work this morning—not only did it save me no end of difficulties, Grandmother actually complimented my presentation."
Chénli giggled, some of her earlier tension finally gone. "I think it kept them all on the back foot for the entire meal."
Dàilán nodded. "I even managed to manoeuvre a significant concession out of the Matriarch and the Cousins, instead of being railroaded. So thank you—all of you."
Chénli coughed and shifted slightly. "Actually, Mistress… you might be right about needing some help."
The other maids immediately moved forward, hands deft and professional as they began assisting them out of the elaborate robes. Dàilán watched Chénli closely as layers were loosened and removed.
"Just fatigued," Chénli said quickly, anticipating the concern, and turned to present her unmarked back as the final fastening was undone. "See?"
Only then did Dàilán allow herself to relax.
Moments later, they were clad in simple house gowns, their faces being gently cleaned of makeup and their hair taken down by practiced hands.
"Actually," Chénli said thoughtfully, "Second—I mean, your cousin—had a point. If only a tiny one. You should have more personal maids and ladies-in-waiting. Compared to Ài, my hair and makeup skills are clearly lacking, and those robes are far more troublesome than they look."
She hesitated, then added honestly, "I am your bodyguard first. If I could concentrate on that…"
Dàilán blinked, then asked carefully, "And my exercise routines?"
A polite cough sounded from behind her as Ài continued combing her hair. "None of the Third Residence has ever mentioned Young Mistress' use of the cultivation garden in the mornings to the other Masters or Mistresses."
Chénli laughed. "I have told you before—the servants know everything."
Dàilán considered for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well. If Ài is willing, she will become a true lady-in-waiting alongside Chén'er. Chénli is head maid—what she says has priority, especially where my safety is concerned."
She turned slightly to include the others. "All of you may also move into the personal servants' area for Third House. You will need someone to organise it—it has been empty since Mother died."
The three maids bowed deeply. "We thank the Young Mistress."
Chénli straightened. "I am for the kitchen. I am starving."
"Likewise," Dàilán said, rising. "I need to tell Matron about the new arrangements and thank her for letting you know this morning. And I need to thank Father at dinner."
Her bodyguard laughed. "I say he will thank you first."
The five girls headed for the kitchens together, the other three tentatively a pace or two behind. Dàilán paused and turned.
"As I think of it, you may have to deal with some… friction from the servants of the other clan lines," she said quietly. "I am sure you are aware of the situation."
The maids exchanged glances. Ài dipped her head gracefully. "We are not worried about that, Young Mistress."
"Any issues, let Chén'er know," Dàilán said firmly.
Chénli's smile was thin and reassuring. "There is a reason none of those servants have bothered me for a long time. I will make sure the same goes for anyone else who causes trouble."
Dàilán sighed as they crossed into the light of the Golden Crow, entering the servants' courtyard and drawing immediate attention. "Chén'er, we need to have a proper discussion after lunch. And I need to exercise as well—something light. Push hands, perhaps?"
"As you wish, Young Mistress."
Dàilán sighed again. "If we were doing what I wished, we would be out in jianghu hunting for relics—not this."
"Tomorrow is another day, Young Mistress."