Xiaolan, only eight years old, ran in circles across the courtyard with a paper fan clutched tightly in her small hand. Her laughter rang bright and carefree through the air as the fan fluttered and dipped with the wind. She chased after it with all the reckless joy of a child.
At the edge of the courtyard stood Nanny Li, a middle-aged servant woman whose face was lined more by worry than age. Her eyes followed every careless step Xiaolan took, her heart lurching each time the girl spun too fast or stumbled too near the stone path.
"Young miss, please be careful," Nanny Li called again and again.
But Xiaolan was too delighted by her game to listen. She only laughed harder, lifting the paper fan high as though it were some priceless treasure. "Nanny Li, look! Look at my fan!" she cried, her voice full of innocent excitement.
Then, as if the heavens had tired of seeing her happy, her footing slipped.
Xiaolan's small body pitched forward, and she fell hard to the ground, right at the feet of Xu Meimei.
The eldest miss of the Xu clan had been taking a quiet walk through the garden with two maids at her side. Her fine robes brushed against the stone as she stopped, staring down at the child who had tumbled before her. At once, disgust darkened her beautiful face, as though Xiaolan's very presence had stained the ground she stood on.
Nanny Li's face turned pale. She hurried forward, helping Xiaolan up with trembling hands before quickly bowing her head.
"Forgive me, Eldest Miss. This servant failed to keep a close watch on her." Her voice shook badly, for she knew Xu Meimei's temper well.
Xu Meimei's cold gaze shifted to Xiaolan, who stood with her head lowered, small fingers still clutching the crumpled paper fan.
"Look up," Xu Meimei ordered.
Xiaolan obeyed at once. Her face was pale, her wide eyes unsteady. "Sister... I..."
She didn't finished.
A sharp slap cracked through the courtyard. Xu Meimei's hand struck her hard and fast, with no mercy held back. The force sent Xiaolan sprawling onto the ground once more. She landed heavily, one small hand clutching her burning cheek, her body trembling from pain and shock.
Nanny Li's breath caught in horror, but she did not dare move to help her. In the Xu household, pity for Xiaolan was a dangerous thing. Showing it would only invite greater wrath from the eldest miss. So she stood frozen, hands clenched tightly in her sleeves, while the little girl lay on the cold ground, too frightened even to cry.
Xiaolan felt the hot sting spread across her cheek like fire, but she did not dare cry out. In the Xu manor, tears were never rewarded with mercy. They only invited more suffering. So she bit the inside of her lip and forced the sobs back down, though her small body trembled from the effort.
Xu Meimei bent down before her, her expression one of pure contempt. With one hand, she seized Xiaolan's face and forced the child to look up at her.
"You wretched thing," she said coldly. "How dare you behave so carelessly in this mansion? And you even dared to trip me?"
Her fingers pressed cruelly into Xiaolan's tender skin, making the child wince. The ache of the slap had not yet faded, and now this fresh pain made her eyes burn even more.
"I... I did not mean to, Big Sister," Xiaolan whispered, her voice shaking as she fought to keep her tears from spilling.
"Shut up," Xu Meimei snapped at once. Her grip tightened. "You stupid, shameless illegitimate daughter. You have no right to speak while I am still talking."
Xiaolan's face twisted with pain. "Ple... please, I am sorry," she murmured weakly.
Xu Meimei narrowed her eyes. "Sorry?" she repeated, her voice full of ridicule. "Sorry for what? For coming into this world? For being born? Or for foolishly thinking you could ever be equal to me?" Her lips curved into a cruel smile. "Tell me, Xiaolan. What exactly are you apologising for?"
Xiaolan could not answer. Fear had frozen the words inside her throat.
At that moment, Xu Meimei's gaze fell upon the paper fan still clutched in Xiaolan's hand. She snatched it away without warning, nearly tearing Xiaolan's fingers in the process.
"What is this?" she asked, holding it as though it were something filthy.
Xiaolan stared at it anxiously. "It... it is a paper fan Nanny Li made for me," she said in a small voice.
Xu Meimei slowly turned her head toward Nanny Li, who still stood bowed with fear. "Nanny Li made this?"
Nanny Li's shoulders shook. "Eldest Miss... this servant.... "
But Xu Meimei cut her off before she could finish. "It seems you have forgotten your place," she said icily. "Who gave you permission to give things to this low-born child? What do you think you are doing... caring for her? Making toys for this useless born?"
Before either of them could react, Xu Meimei crushed the fragile paper fan in her hand. The little toy, so carefully folded and made with such simple affection, crumpled instantly into a ruined mass. She let it fall to the ground as though it were worthless trash.
Xiaolan stared at it in silence. This time, she could not hold her tears back. They slid soundlessly down her cheeks, one after another, though she made no move to wipe them away.
"Remember this well, Xiaolan," she said. "Everything in this house belongs to me. And anything that ever comes into your hands will still be mine, even if I do not want it." Xu Meimei laughed, a low, cruel sound that seemed to chill even the air around them.
Then she rose to her feet and, without the slightest hesitation, kicked Xiaolan hard in the side.
The little girl cried out as she was sent sprawling across the hard ground once more, her frail body scraping painfully against the stone floor.
"Lock her in her room," Xu Meimei ordered, smoothing her sleeves as though nothing of consequence had happened. "And make sure she is given neither food nor water for two days."
She turned and began to walk away with her maids, her expression calm once more. "The sight of her upsets the stomach!," she said over her shoulder.
Nanny Li lowered her head even further, her hands trembling inside her sleeves. "Yes, Eldest Miss," she replied.
Xiaolan's eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, she sat still, dazed, the book resting loosely in her hands. Had she fallen asleep while reading? Her chest rose and fell unevenly as the remnants of the dream still clung to her like a cold shadow. Again. She had seen it again, the fragments of her childhood, the cruelty of the Xu clan, the pain she had buried so deeply she had once believed it would never reach her again.
Slowly, she lifted a hand to her forehead and pressed her fingers there, as though she could soothe away the ache left behind by memory.
Her gaze drifted around the room.
Jian Wushuang had not returned yet. Ji-Lie was likely still outside, helping the servants in the garden. The quiet in the chamber only made the heaviness in her heart feel more pronounced.
Xiaolan let out a soft sigh.
Once, she had thought she was free. Free from the Xu clan, from their scorn, from the wretched days of her childhood that had carved themselves into her bones. Yet even now, years later, they still held her in their grasp. She had not escaped them at all. She had only been used as a pawn in their schemes, married off like a burden to a disgraced prince.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the book before she closed it.
The Grand Princess had insisted on involving her in the preparations for the grand occasion soon to be held at the palace. Decorations, arrangements, ceremonial details, matters so far removed from her own life that they almost seemed laughable.
What did she, who had once lived by the sword and survived by strength alone, know of ornaments and festivities? She was a former soldier, not some delicate noblewoman trained in the art of pleasing courtly eyes.
She ought to explain that to the Grand Princess.
But then, the woman already knew.
Which meant this invitation had never truly been about decorations. Nor was it about bonding, no matter how gently it had been presented. The Grand Princess had some other purpose in drawing her close, some intention hidden beneath her gracious smile.
And whatever it was, Xiaolan had no intention of trusting it.