Xiaolan was still occupied with the decorations when, at last, the ribbons were finished. By then, Ji-Lie had returned from the errand the Grand Princess had sent her on. Servants soon brought over a ladder so the decorations could be tied properly to the pillars lining both the inner hall and the outer corridor.
Not far away, Wumeng continued issuing orders, her tone calm but commanding.
"No, raise the lanterns higher. Higher," she said, gesturing lightly with her hand. "I do not want shadows when the envoys arrive."
As she passed one of the nearby servants, she gave the faintest nod.
The servant, a slim woman with lowered eyes bowed deeply at once. Without a word, she slipped away, disappearing between the rows of painted screens.
Xiaolan, being taller than most of the servants, found it easier to hang the ribbons herself. She insisted on doing it despite their protests, and with Ji-Lie steadying the ladder below, she climbed up and began fastening the decorations one by one.
Her movements were careful, though not graceful in the manner of court ladies. There was still something of the soldier in her.
One pillar after another was completed.
At last, she came to the final one.
Ji-Lie braced the ladder firmly as Xiaolan stepped higher, stretching out her hand to secure the last ribbon in place. The red and gold silk fluttered softly at her fingertips.
Then, in a single instant, everything changed. A servant carrying a large basket stumbled and crashed into Ji-Lie from the side. The impact was sudden enough to throw her off balance. Her grip slipped. The ladder tilted sharply.
Before anyone could react, Xiaolan's hand jerked against the pillar she had been decorating. Her footing gave way at once.
"Princess!" Ji-Lie cried out, but it was already too late.
The ladder tipped. Xiaolan's body lurched into empty air.
For one breathless moment, the world seemed to stop.
She shut her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the violent fall she was certain would come, the crack of bone against stone, the burst of pain, the humiliation of collapsing before so many watching eyes. But the pain never came.
Instead, there was only a strange stillness.
The noise around her seemed to vanish all at once. The courtyard, so busy only moments ago, had fallen into a silence so complete it felt unnatural.
Xiaolan frowned faintly.
She was not on the ground.
She felt no pain.
What she felt instead was warmth, solid, unyielding warmth and the unmistakable sensation of her body pressed against someone else's.
Her lashes trembled as she opened her eyes.
"If I keep carrying you any longer, I fear my back may break." Jian Wushuang's voice was light with a teasing smirk as he looked down at her. Then, leaning slightly closer, he added in a lowered voice, "You are rather heavy, Wife."
Around them, the surrounding servants immediately dropped into bows. "Your Highness."
Xiaolan's face flushed at once.
Only a moment ago, he had caught her before she struck the ground. For that single instant, gratitude had risen in her heart but his ridiculous words swept half of it away at once. She quickly steadied herself and slipped out of his arms, putting some distance between them.
"Th-thank you," she said, her voice quieter than usual.
Nearby, the servant who had collided with Ji-Lie fell to her knees her forehead struck the floor.
"Your Highness, this servant did not mean... please forgive me!" she cried, her voice shaking violently. "This servant deserves death!"
Ji-Lie hurried to Xiaolan's side, her face pale with lingering alarm. For one terrible moment, she had truly believed Xiaolan would fall hard onto the stone. If Jian Wushuang had not appeared when he did, the consequences would have been grave. "Your Highness, are you alright?" Ji-Lie asked.
Xiaolan shook her head. "Mm. I am alright." As she answered, her gaze drifted toward Jian Wushuang.
The teasing smile he had worn moments earlier was already gone.
Now his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the servant kneeling on the ground.
Just then, Wumeng walked forward in hurried steps, her face painted with concern. "Sister-in-law, are you all right? You are not hurt, are you?" she asked, reaching out to inspect Xiaolan with anxious hands, as though deeply troubled by what had just occurred.
Xiaolan gently shook her head again. "I am fine."
The instant Wumeng heard that, she turned sharply toward the servant, her expression changing at once. "You useless thing," she snapped. "Can you not watch where you are going?"
Her voice rang through the hall like a whip crack. "Guards!" she called. "Drag her out and give her fifty lashes, until her skin peels."
The servant collapsed completely, trembling so hard she could barely breathe.
Xiaolan's eyes narrowed
Fifty lashes?
That was not punishment. That was a death sentence.
She reached out at once and lightly caught Wumeng's hand, trying to stop her. "Your Highness, it is all right," she said quickly. "I was not injured. Besides... I do not think she did it on purpose. It was only a mistake."
"Mistake?" Wumeng repeated, turning back to her with disbelief. "Mistakes are not tolerated in this palace. They are punished."
Then she lifted her gaze toward Jian Wushuang. "Is that not so, Brother?"
Jian Wushuang did not answer immediately.
His eyes shifted from the kneeling servant to Xiaolan's face. His expression remained calm, but there was something cold beneath it.
"She nearly caused you injury," he said at last. "Had I not passed by, you would be lying in the physician's hall by now."
A faint smile touched his lips, but there was no warmth in it. "Take the servant away," he said. "I will punish her myself."
At that, satisfaction flickered through Wumeng's eyes. She smiled, evidently pleased by his answer.
Xiaolan said nothing further.
Her fingers slowly loosened at her side, and after a long moment, she only lowered her gaze and gave a faint, weak nod though in her heart, unease had already begun to spread.
The guards dragged the servant away, her face emptied of all resistance, as though she had already surrendered herself to whatever fate awaited her.
Jian Wushuang paid her no further attention.
Instead, he stepped closer to Xiaolan and lifted a hand, gently tilting her chin so that her eyes met his. His gaze was steady, unreadable at first glance, yet his voice, when he spoke, carried a quiet force that made those nearby lower their heads even further.
"My wife was nearly harmed," he said. "That is unacceptable."
His fingers lingered just beneath her chin, firm but not rough.
"Anyone who dares to hurt you," he continued, his tone calm and cold all at once, "will answer to me."
For the briefest moment, the air seemed to tighten around them.
Xiaolan looked at him without speaking, her heart unsettled by words she could not quite bring herself to trust.
Beside them, Wumeng's fingers curled tightly within her sleeve. Rage burned behind her smile. That should have been her, she thought bitterly. It should have been her chin Jian Wushuang held so carefully, her safety he spoke of in that low voice. That foolish servant had only been given one simple task.
Still, not a trace of her fury showed on her face.
Instead, she let out a light laugh and stepped forward as though nothing at all were amiss.
"Very well," she said brightly. "Now that this unpleasantness has been dealt with, let us continue the preparations."
Then, without hesitation, she reached for Jian Wushuang's hand. "Brother," she said sweetly, "what brings you here?"
As she spoke, she gently drew him away with her, not waiting to see whether Xiaolan noticed the intimacy in the gesture.
And so Jian Wushuang was led off beneath the palace eaves, while Xiaolan remained where she stood, the faint warmth of his fingers still lingering at her chin long after he was gone.
Several noblewomen drifted toward Xiaolan as though drawn by curiosity they could no longer restrain.
"Princess, are you truly unharmed?"
"That fall looked dangerous."
"Thank heavens His Highness caught you in time."
Their voices overlapped in a gentle flay of concern, each one eager to be heard. Xiaolan answered them with quiet courtesy, offering a small smile and assuring them that she was well. She was about to excuse herself when one of the women suddenly spoke again.
"Thank goodness you were not hurt," she said with visible relief. "Otherwise, you would have missed the ceremonial dance."
Xiaolan paused. "Ceremonial dance?" she repeated, turning slightly toward the lady. The words meant nothing to her, yet the ease with which they had been said made it seem as though she ought to have known at once.
"You do not know of it?" one asked.
Another leaned in, delighted to explain. "It is the royal dance performed by members of the imperial family during grand court occasions."
"It is one of the most important parts of the celebration," a third added. "And the Grand Princess always outshines everyone in it."
The others nodded in immediate agreement.
"It is truly magnificent," one of them said dreamily. "Now that you are a member of the royal family as well, you will dance it with Wushuang."
Xiaolan's expression remained calm, but inwardly her thoughts froze.
Dance?
Another burden. Another custom she had never been taught. Another humiliation waiting to bloom in public.
"Is that so?" she said evenly.
But one of the noblewomen was already studying her face too closely.
"Your expression says you know nothing of dancing," she said, not cruelly, but with a kind of pity that stung more than open mockery. "Did the Xu clan never teach you?"
Xiaolan's lips pressed together for the briefest moment. No, they had not.
All the lessons befitting a noble daughter, music, dance, embroidery, etiquette, had been reserved for Xu Meimei and the other legitimate young ladies of the household. Xiaolan had been taught discipline, endurance, and silence. Grace had been for others. Survival had been for her.
Before she could answer, another noblewoman frowned slightly.
"How strange," she murmured. "The Grand Princess should have informed you of this earlier?"
At that, a faint stillness settled over the group.
Xiaolan said nothing, but beneath her composed expression, her unease deepened.