Chapter 2

My elder sister was twelve and possessed an imposing strength that could uproot mountains. She came toward us like a small hill.

She looked us over from above.

“Mother, are these the ones?”

One eyelid lifted, mockery filling her voice. Her gaze passed over our faces like a blade.

“They are all quite pretty. Very good.”

We were given names as well. Four names had been written on slips of paper, and each of us drew one.

Yuxi, Yanxi, Nanxi, and Jinxi.

Because I reached a moment later and drew Jinxi, Yanxi looked as though she wanted to tear me apart.

It was only a name—a label.

We would walk our own roads from then on. What difference could a name make?

After what had happened, Yuxi and Nanxi had been scared witless. They had long since learned silence and obedience.

“From this moment forward, you are young ladies of the Marquis’s household. You must learn all the proper etiquette and rules. Nursemaid, tell them what they will be required to do each day.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The nursemaid’s surname was Cai. She was the very matron who had ordered that girl beaten to death.

No wonder she was so vicious. She was the Marchioness’s attack dog.

“Every day, you will present yourselves in the Marchioness’s courtyard at a quarter past five in the morning. After breakfast, you will spend one hour learning proper conduct and one hour practicing the zither. After the midday meal, you will read and practice dance. Your time after the evening meal will be your own.

“You young ladies had better follow the rules. Mistakes will be punished.”

Whether we slept early and rose early or stayed up late playing did not matter, provided we could get up in the morning, stay awake through our lessons in etiquette, and master every skill.

Otherwise, the ruler in the matron’s hand would show us no mercy.

Except for Yanxi, no one ever arrived late in the morning. After being punished twice, even she no longer dared.

None of us complained about learning etiquette, playing the zither, or dancing. Reading and recognizing characters came easily to me, but I did not dare show the slightest sign of it.

The maids beside me were not on my side. They watched my every move.

What I said, what I ate, even how many times I relieved myself—everything had to be reported to Matron Cai.

I did my best to make myself invisible. No matter how well I learned something, I displayed only half my ability. When it came to reading and writing, I showed barely a fifth.

It was enough to recognize characters and write neatly. Was I supposed to tell them that I not only understood the texts but could also compose poetry and verse?

That would have been asking to die.

Those accomplishments belonged to Meng Zhen, the true legitimate daughter.

Despite her youth, she was brilliantly talented and highly skilled in martial arts. Whatever others might think of her, sincerely or otherwise, she had her own circle of young ladies. They went boating, admired flowers, and attended poetry gatherings several times a month.

She rose even earlier than we did and was respectful and filial before the Marchioness.

Nor did she insult or bully the four of us.

More accurately, we were not worth noticing in her eyes.

She had no interest in our zither, dance, or painting lessons.

Her tutor was different from ours as well—a male scholar who taught genuine knowledge and useful skills.

What we were learning never felt quite respectable to me.

We were never allowed to eat our fill. Every day, we had to practice deep backbends until our waists were exquisitely supple. We learned how to smile at people, how to kneel beautifully, even how to weep with delicate pathos. We had to play the zither well and dance to perfection. Painting, reading, and writing, on the other hand, were treated almost casually.

When we presented ourselves to the Marchioness, she was not even awake, much less willing to see us. After standing in her courtyard for half an hour, we were dismissed.

I suspected she was raising us to be tools for some future marriage alliance.

Only on my elder sister’s coming-of-age day did several princes arrive. It was the first time in our three years at the estate that we had been shown to guests.

The noble young men were handsome and elegant; the young ladies drifted by in fragrant silks, graceful and slender.

One prince studied us. After a long while, he said to my elder sister with open disdain, “They may be beautiful, but they are soulless as blocks of wood. Boring.”

My elder sister smiled. “They are still young. A little training will do.”

Leaning closer to him, she added, “Girls like blank sheets of paper—you may train them yourself. Whatever color you wish to paint upon them, will it not be entirely up to you?”

The prince burst into laughter. “You won’t be jealous?”

“What man in the world does not have three wives and four concubines? And you are the Fifth Prince. Every beautiful woman under heaven ought to be yours. I would never dare be jealous.”

She did not dare.

That did not mean she was incapable of it.

The Fifth Prince laughed in delight. “Zhen’er, rest assured. Even if my harem one day holds three thousand beauties, no one will ever shake your place.”