Bai-Xu had barely seated herself upon the edge of her embroidered bed, the canopy of pale jade silk falling softly around her, when the chamber doors creaked open with a gentle hush.
Her maid, Jan-Mei-Hui, stepped inside, carefully balancing a tray of steaming dishes. The scent of medicinal herbs and warm rice drifted through the quiet room, mingling with the faint glow of spirit-lanterns hanging from the carved beams above.
"Princess... are you feeling well?" Jan-Mei-Hui asked, her voice trembling despite her attempt at composure. "I heard that beasts attacked the academy today."
The worry on her face was unmistakable. Her brows were knit tightly together, and her usually bright eyes were clouded with fear.
Bai-Xu smiled gently, as calm and serene as a lotus floating upon still waters. "I am perfectly fine," she replied in a soft, reassuring tone.
But then her gaze sharpened slightly.
"While I was away... did anyone dare mistreat you?"
Jan-Mei-Hui's fingers tightened around the edge of her sleeve. She lowered her eyes, avoiding Bai-Xu's penetrating stare.
"Princess," she said quietly, "as long as we reside under Master Jia-Hai's estate, no one would dare say anything to us."
Her words were obedient, but her hesitation betrayed the truth.
Bai-Xu's smile did not fade — yet the warmth within it slowly vanished.
These people... allowing Jan-Mei-Hui to live in peace? Impossible.
A cold glint flickered in her eyes, like frost forming on a winter blade.
"Hm... very well," Bai-Xu murmured lightly, reclining against her pillows as if unconcerned. "Then I know exactly what to do tomorrow."
A faint, chilling smile curved upon her lips — beautiful, quiet, and utterly dangerous.
Somewhere beyond the palace walls, the night wind stirred.
And by dawn, someone would surely regret their actions.
The very next morning, Bai-Xue quietly followed Jan-Mei-Hui without letting her notice.
Moving like a wisp of mist drifting through the courtyard, Bai-Xue concealed her presence with a trace of spiritual qi. Since awakening her meridians, her senses had sharpened; even the faintest ripple of energy in the air did not escape her perception.
Jan-Mei-Hui, unaware that she was being watched, carried a lacquered food box meant for Bai-Xue's breakfast. To reach the imperial kitchen, she had to cross the small stone bridge over the lotus pond — a tranquil place where pale pink blossoms floated gracefully upon the water, nourished by the spiritual veins beneath the estate.
As Jan-Mei-Hui stepped past the pond, another figure came into view.
Ning Hai-Rang stood near the water's edge, accompanied by her two maids. She appeared to be admiring the blooming lotus flowers, their petals glowing faintly in the morning light — but the calm scene did little to soften the sharp glint hidden in her eyes.
The moment Hai-Rang noticed Bai-Xue's maid approaching, a cruel smile curved upon her lips.
Without turning her head, Hai-Rang lifted her slender hand and gave a subtle signal to her maids.
A silent command.
The air seemed to grow heavier. Even the lotus leaves trembled as if sensing the brewing hostility.
From the shadows, Bai-Xue narrowed her eyes.
One of Hai-Rang's maids suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Jan-Mei-Hui by the arm with cruel force.
Before Jan-Mei-Hui could even steady herself, she was shoved down onto the hard stone ground. The food trays slipped from her trembling hands. Porcelain bowls crashed and shattered, scattering rice and soup across the cold courtyard floor.
The sound of breaking ceramic echoed sharply in the quiet morning air.
Jan-Mei-Hui froze.
She did not even understand what she had done wrong.
Her mind spun in confusion, but her body reacted out of instinct. She quickly lowered her head, pressing her palms against the ground despite the sharp fragments biting into her skin.
"Lady Hai-Rang… please forgive me," she said in a shaking voice. "If I have made any mistake, I beg you to pardon me."
Her tone was soft, fearful, and filled with desperation.
But before she could finish speaking, Hai-Rang's second maid stepped forward and struck her viciously across the face.
Slap!
The sound rang across the lotus pond like a whip cracking in the air.
"How dare you!" the maid snapped angrily. "You saw Lady Hai-Rang and still did not bow properly? Have you forgotten your status?"
Jan-Mei-Hui's head snapped to the side. A burning pain spread across her cheek as a red handprint bloomed against her pale skin. Tears instantly gathered in her eyes and began falling uncontrollably.
"T-That's not true…" she sobbed, her voice trembling. "Lady Hai-Rang, I was just about to greet you. I meant no disrespect. If I offended you in any way, please forgive me…"
Her thin shoulders shook violently as she knelt there, tears dripping onto the broken porcelain pieces beneath her hands. Her entire body radiated fear — not because she was guilty, but because she knew resistance would only make things worse.
And the cruel truth was—
She had done nothing wrong.
This was not the first time.
Within the vast Ning Mansion, Bai-Xue's position had always been pitifully low. She was treated as if she did not belong, as if her very presence was an inconvenience. No one respected her. Not the elders. Not the young masters and misses. Not even the lowest servants.
And because Bai-Xue was despised, her maid suffered in her place.
To the Ning Family, Jan-Mei-Hui was merely an extension of Bai-Xue — a convenient target. Whenever tempers flared, whenever someone wished to vent their frustrations but lacked the courage to confront those above them, they would turn their cruelty toward Bai-Xue and her maid.
It became a silent rule in the mansion.
If you were unhappy, you could step on them.
Hai-Rang and her maids, in particular, took pleasure in this twisted hierarchy. They would invent faults, twist simple misunderstandings into grave offenses, and humiliate Jan-Mei-Hui publicly just to assert their superiority.
Every day, Jan-Mei-Hui endured this humiliation quietly.
Every day, she swallowed her tears.
Because she knew—
If she resisted, Bai-Xue would suffer even more.
So she chose silence.
She chose submission.
But kneeling there on the cold stone, surrounded by broken dishes and harsh laughter, her tears falling endlessly… she looked so small. So helpless.
And yet—
No one stepped forward to help her.
In the Ning Family, compassion was weakness.
And weakness was something the strong delighted in crushing.
Gathering the last fragments of her courage, Jan-Mei-Hui lifted her tear-stained face slightly.
"Lady Hai-Rang… please believe me," she said, her voice trembling but sincere. "I would never dare to disrespect you. How could I possibly do such a thing? Please… forgive me."
For a brief moment, silence lingered by the lotus pond.
Then—
Hai-Rang smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
It was the smile of someone who had already calculated everything.
"Very well," Hai-Rang said lightly, her tone suddenly gentle. "I can forgive you."
Jan-Mei-Hui's heart skipped in confusion.
"But…" Hai-Rang continued smoothly, "you must do something for me."
At those words, Jan-Mei-Hui's body stiffened.
A chill ran down her spine.
She knew.
She knew that nothing Hai-Rang offered ever came without a hidden blade.
Jan-Mei-Hui kept her head lowered, her fingers clutching the fabric of her worn sleeves. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She already sensed that whatever Hai-Rang was about to say would harm Bai-Xue.
Hai-Rang slowly bent down, her silk robes brushing lightly against the stone floor. She leaned close to Jan-Mei-Hui's ear, her voice soft and poisonous.
"It's very simple," she whispered. "From now on, wherever Bai-Xue goes… whatever she does… you will report everything to me."
Jan-Mei-Hui's eyes widened.
"You will continue serving her in front of everyone," Hai-Rang went on, her breath warm against Jan-Mei-Hui's ear. "But from today onward… your loyalty will belong to me."
The words felt heavier than chains.
Hai-Rang straightened up gracefully and spoke louder, her voice carrying an air of authority.
"This will benefit you," she said coldly. "Why continue suffering beside that pitiful Bai-Xue? You won't have to live in such miserable conditions anymore."
Her gaze swept over Jan-Mei-Hui's faded, patched clothing.
It was true.
Jan-Mei-Hui's robes were old and colorless, the fabric thin from years of washing. Her shoes were worn at the edges. Even in winter, she lacked proper fur lining.
But Hai-Rang's maids—
Even they wore beautiful embroidered garments made of fine silk. Their hair was adorned with delicate pins. Some even wore small pieces of jade jewelry at their wrists and ears.
They ate well.
They dressed well.
They walked with confidence.
If Jan-Mei-Hui agreed… she could live like that too.
She could escape the daily humiliation.
She could eat warm meals without fear.
She could wear clean, beautiful clothes.
No more kneeling on cold stone.
No more trembling under unjust slaps.
For a fleeting second, temptation flickered in her heart.
It would be so easy.
Just a few words.
Just a small betrayal.
But then—
Bai-Xue's face appeared in her mind.
The quiet way Bai-Xue always shared her own food.
The way she never blamed Jan-Mei-Hui, even when the entire mansion mocked her.
The way she had endured everything in silence.
Tears welled up again in Jan-Mei-Hui's eyes.
Hai-Rang's offer glittered like gold…
But beneath it lay a dagger.
And Jan-Mei-Hui stood trembling between comfort and loyalty, between survival and betrayal.
The morning breeze passed over the lotus pond, rustling the leaves softly—