Tears shimmered in Jan-Mei-Hui's eyes, gathering like fragile pearls beneath her lashes.
In that trembling moment, her heart drifted back to a distant spring of her childhood—when she was only seven years old, small and thin, standing beside her mother in the grand outer courtyard of the Bai Estate. The plum blossoms had been in full bloom that day, their petals falling like soft snow upon the stone paths.
Before them stood the little Princess—only three years of age—dressed in robes of pale gold silk, her tiny hands clutching a jade tassel. Her cheeks had been round, her eyes bright and innocent, unaware of the weight her name carried.
Jan-Mei-Hui remembered her mother kneeling, pressing her forehead to the cold marble floor. Her voice had been steady, yet filled with a quiet sorrow.
"This," her mother had whispered gently, placing a hand on Jan-Mei's shoulder, "is the Princess you must serve with your entire life. From this day forward, your fate is bound to hers."
At that age, Jan-Mei-Hui had not fully understood the meaning of those words. She only knew that her mother's fingers had trembled slightly... and that after that day, her own path no longer belonged to her.
The years that followed were not gentle.
She had witnessed hardship, cruelty from palace attendants, sleepless nights during winter storms, and the silent burdens that Bai-Xue carried behind her calm expression. There were days when hunger gnawed at them, days when whispers of danger crept through the halls, and nights when Jan-Mei stood guard outside her mistress's chamber, refusing to close her eyes.
She had suffered. She had endured.
Yet never—not even once—did regret take root in her heart.
For in serving Bai-Xue, she had found something greater than obligation. She had found purpose. Loyalty had grown into devotion, and devotion into an unbreakable bond that transcended mere master and servant.
Through every sorrow and every storm, Jan-Mei-Hui stood firm.
Because from the moment the plum blossoms fell upon that courtyard stone, her life had already been decided.
And she had chosen to embrace it without regret.
Jan-Mei-Hui slowly pushed herself to her feet, summoning every last fragment of strength from her trembling body. Her fingers curled tightly into her sleeves, knuckles paling, yet her spine straightened with unwavering resolve.
Her voice, though soft at first, carried a quiet steel beneath its tremor.
"In this life... there is nothing that I can truly call my own."
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips as her tear-filled eyes glistened under the lantern light.
"I possess no family name of worth, no estate, no future promised to me. The only thing I have... the only person I have... is my Princess—Bai-Xue."
At the mention of her mistress, her voice steadied, as if merely speaking that name gave her courage.
"She is the reason I rise each morning. She is the reason I endure every humiliation and hardship. My life has no meaning apart from serving her. To protect her... to stand behind her... that is my purpose."
Her gaze lifted then, fierce and unyielding despite the tears that traced down her cheeks.
"I would rather die than betray the Princess."
The air in the chamber grew heavy as her words echoed against the carved wooden walls.
"Lady Hai-Rang," she continued, her tone no longer pleading but resolute, "your world may be woven with deception and schemes. You may thrive in a court where smiles hide daggers and loyalty is traded for power."
She shook her head slowly.
"But I will never become part of such a world."
Her breath trembled, yet her conviction did not.
"Even if I must crawl through blood and thorns... even if the heavens themselves test my devotion... I will not stain my loyalty with treachery."
From a distance, hidden behind the carved sandalwood screen, Bai-Xue had heard everything.
Every word.
Every vow.
Every trembling breath that carried Jan-Mei-Hui's unwavering loyalty.
As Jan-Mei's voice reached her ears, a gentle, cool breeze drifted through the corridor, brushing softly against Bai-Xue's pale face. The silk curtains swayed faintly, as if even the wind had paused to listen.
Then—
A single tear slipped silently from the corner of Bai-Xue's eye.
It traced a slow, shimmering path down her cheek.
For a moment, she did not understand.
Bai-Xue lifted her slender fingers and touched the dampness upon her skin. When she felt the tear, her delicate brows knit together in quiet surprise.
"A tear...?" she murmured faintly.
How long had it been since she had cried?
In her heart, she had always believed she walked this world alone. Born into nobility yet surrounded by cold smiles and hidden daggers, she had long ago accepted that trust was a luxury she could not afford. She had convinced herself that affection was fragile... and that she, Bai-Xue, possessed no one who would stand by her when the storm arrived.
A faint, almost self-mocking smile curved upon her lips.
"How laughable..." she whispered to herself, her voice barely louder than the wind. "Bai-Xue... you died once believing that there was no one in this world who truly belonged to you."
Her lashes lowered, shadowing the storm of emotions within her gaze.
"And yet... you never knew."
She never knew that her maid—her quiet, ever-present shadow—was willing to endure humiliation, pain, and even death for her sake.
She never knew that behind every silent bow and lowered head was a heart burning with fierce devotion.
The realization tightened painfully around her chest.
Another tear threatened to fall, but this time, Bai-Xue did not wipe it away.
Instead, her expression softened.
A gentle, tender smile bloomed upon her face—fragile, yet warm enough to melt years of loneliness.
"So there was someone..." she breathed softly.
Someone who chose her.
Someone who stayed.
Someone who would bear the cruelty of this treacherous world without complaint, simply to stand at her side.
The cold palace corridors no longer felt quite as empty.
For the first time in a long while, Bai-Xue felt something stir deep within her guarded heart—
Not sorrow.
Not despair.
But the quiet warmth of being cherished
Jan-Mei's unwavering declaration had barely faded into the night when Hai-Rang's expression twisted.
Her delicate face flushed crimson with fury, the veins at her temple faintly visible beneath her powdered skin. The elegant composure she usually wore like a mask shattered completely, revealing something far uglier beneath.
Without warning—
Smack!
The sharp sound of a slap cracked through the still air.
Hai-Rang's palm struck Jan-Mei across the face with brutal force, sending her staggering half a step to the side. The impact echoed against the quiet pond, startling even the night insects into silence.
Yet this time—
Jan-Mei did not flinch.
She did not cry out.
She did not look afraid.
A thin line of blood formed at the corner of her lip, but her gaze remained steady. Because she had already known... the moment she chose her words, this would be the outcome.
She had made her decision.
And she was prepared to bear the consequences.
Seeing that unyielding calm in a mere servant's eyes only deepened Hai-Rang's rage.
"You dare!" Hai-Rang hissed, her voice trembling with humiliation more than anger. "A lowly maid dares to speak to me of loyalty?"
Her chest rose and fell sharply before she turned abruptly toward her own attendant.
"You!" she snapped coldly. "Go. Bring the whip."
The maid hesitated for only a heartbeat before bowing deeply and retreating at once.
Hai-Rang's lips curved slowly into a cruel smile.
"For disrespecting the Second Daughter of the Ning Family," she declared icily, "she will be properly punished."
Her gaze slid back to Jan-Mei, filled with contempt.
"You are just as worthless as your master," she sneered. "Blind loyalty to a doomed woman. Both of you are equally pathetic."
She stepped closer, her shadow falling over Jan-Mei's kneeling figure.
"You will learn your lesson today."
As those words left her lips, a dark, chilling laugh escaped her—soft, venomous, and utterly devoid of mercy.