My elder sister loved sweets.
Every year, when lychee paste was sent from home, the first box was always hers.
As a child, I was greedy and stole a taste.
Mother frowned and said,
“Your sister is frail. Let her have it.”
Later, I kept giving way and giving way, until even my marriage was pushed behind hers.
When the Crown Prince came to consider a match, my elder sister disliked all the rules of the Eastern Palace and turned around to choose an Idle Prince instead.
So everyone’s eyes fell on me.
The Crown Prince said gently,
“The Second Young Lady will do as well.”
I married him.
After our wedding, he treated me well enough. It was just that every year, when lychee paste was presented as tribute, he would first send someone to deliver it to my sister’s residence.
I asked him about it once.
He smiled.
“Your sister loves this.”
“You’ve always been sensible. You won’t mind.”
Until, on his deathbed, he clutched my hand and suddenly called out my sister’s childhood name.
When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the Crown Prince came to consider a match.
Mother pushed me forward.
I took one step back and said softly,
“This subject’s daughter already has someone in her heart. I fear I am not blessed enough to enter the Eastern Palace.”
