Footsteps hurried across the stone path.
A maid came running, breath uneven, robes gathered in her fists as she stopped before Hai-Rang and bowed quickly.
Hai-Rang did not even spare her a glance at first. Her eyes remained fixed on Jan-Mei, who still knelt in silent defiance.
"For daring to disrespect the Second Lady of the Ning Family... and for offending a noble lady," Hai-Rang declared coldly, her voice sharp as frost, "she shall receive twenty lashes."
The words fell like a death sentence.
At once, Hai-Rang's maid stepped forward, a vicious smile curling across her lips as she looked down at Jan-Mei.
"Brace yourself," she sneered softly.
She lifted the whip high into the air. The leather strands unfurled with a chilling hiss, cutting through the silence as she swung it downward with full force—
—but before it could strike—
The whip stopped.
Midair.
As if caught by an invisible hand.
The maid's expression froze. The leather trembled, stretched taut, yet refused to descend.
A ripple of shock spread through the gathered servants.
Slowly... hesitantly... the maid lifted her gaze.
Her breath caught.
Standing there, small and slender, was a figure no taller than her shoulder.
Bai-Xue.
Her pale robes moved softly in the morning breeze as golden sunlight filtered through the willow branches, casting a warm glow upon her delicate face.
One slender hand held the whip firmly.
Her expression was calm—yet her eyes were cold and sharp, like frost beneath the rising sun.
The maid's shock quickly turned to irritation rather than fear.
"Lady Bai-Xue," she said sharply, tugging once at the whip, "you are interfering with my duty. I am carrying out Lady Ning's order."
Her tone carried arrogance, as though Bai-Xue's presence meant nothing.
Bai-Xue did not respond immediately.
Her gaze moved slowly from the whip... to the maid's face.
Cold.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
Without a word, Bai-Xue tightened her grip.
Then—
She pulled.
Not violently.
Not loudly.
But with precise, controlled force.
The maid, who had been exerting all her strength forward, stumbled abruptly as the tension shifted. Bai-Xue stepped lightly to the side at the exact moment the force gave way.
The result was immediate.
The maid's balance shattered.
With a startled cry, she lurched forward uncontrollably—
—and fell straight into the lotus pond.
Splash!
Water erupted into the air, lotus leaves scattering as ripples spread violently across the once-still surface.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent.
The maid surfaced moments later, drenched, sputtering, her elegant appearance reduced to a pitiful mess of tangled hair and soaked silk.
Gasps echoed around the pond.
Hai-Rang's eyes widened the moment she saw her maid fall into the lotus pond.
For a split second, disbelief froze her features.
Then her face twisted with fury.
"Bai-Xue—how dare you!" she shrieked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the morning air. "What do you think you're doing?!"
The servants around them lowered their heads, trembling.
Bai-Xue turned slowly.
Her movements were unhurried. Controlled.
She met Hai-Rang's furious gaze without the slightest hint of retreat.
In the next instant—
Smack!
The crisp sound of a slap echoed across the courtyard.
Hai-Rang's head snapped to the side, her hair ornaments clinking violently from the force. A red handprint bloomed across her cheek.
Bai-Xue's hand lowered gracefully.
"How dare I?" she repeated softly.
Her eyes were no longer calm—they were glacial.
"How dare you," she corrected, her voice steady and cold, "a concubine's daughter... address me by my name instead of my title?"
The words struck harder than the slap.
For a moment, Hai-Rang heard nothing else. The world seemed to ring with that single, humiliating sound—the echo of the blow.
Her cheek burned.
Her pride burned even more.
Slowly, she turned her head back, eyes blazing with venom.
"You useless, worthless piece of trash!" she spat. "How dare you raise your hand against me?!"
Rage consumed her reason.
She lunged forward, robes swishing violently, arm lifting as if to strike Bai-Xue back.
But Bai-Xue had already anticipated it.
At the precise moment Hai-Rang charged, Bai-Xue shifted lightly to the side—her movement small, almost effortless.
At the same time, she extended her foot just slightly forward.
It was subtle.
Calculated.
Hai-Rang, blinded by fury, did not notice.
Her foot caught.
Her balance shattered.
There was no time to recover.
With a startled cry, she stumbled past Bai-Xue—
—and plunged straight into the lotus pond.
Splash!
Water erupted high into the air, scattering lotus petals and sending ripples racing across the surface. Her elegant robes darkened instantly, heavy with water as she flailed in shock.
Gasps filled the courtyard.
The once-arrogant Second Lady of the Ning Family now struggled among floating leaves, her hair ornaments half-loosened, her pride utterly drenched.
Bai-Xue stood at the edge of the pond, unmoved.
Sunlight caught the edge of her sleeve as it settled back into place.
She did not laugh.
She did not gloat.
She simply looked down at Hai-Rang with quiet authority.
"If you cannot even stand properly," she said coolly, "how do you intend to stand above others?"
The morning breeze stirred once more.
Hai-Rang's second maid rushed forward in panic, splashing into the pond without hesitation. Struggling against the water, she helped Hai-Rang to her feet and dragged her toward the stone edge. The once-elegant young lady emerged drenched and trembling, silk robes clinging heavily to her frame, humiliation burning brighter than anger in her eyes.
But on the other side —
Bai-Xue had already turned away.
Her attention was no longer on Hai-Rang.
She walked toward Jan-Mei.
Each step was steady. Unhurried.
Jan-Mei still knelt where she had been struck, her face pale, a thin trail of blood staining the corner of her lips.
Bai-Xue stopped before her.
Slowly, gently, she reached out.
With one hand, she lifted Jan-Mei's chin.
The touch was light—almost tender.
Jan-Mei's lashes trembled as her tear-filled eyes met her mistress's gaze.
Without a word, Bai-Xue used her thumb to wipe away the blood at the corner of Jan-Mei's lips. The crimson smear stained her pale skin, but she did not seem to mind.
A faint, reassuring smile curved her lips.
"It's alright now," she said softly. "Everything is fine."
Her voice carried none of the coldness she had shown moments ago.
"Do not be afraid."
She slid an arm around Jan-Mei's shoulders and helped her to her feet, steadying her as one might steady something precious.
At that, Jan-Mei broke.
Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she clutched lightly at Bai-Xue's sleeve.
"Princess..." she sobbed, her voice shaking. "I didn't do anything wrong. I truly didn't... Please believe me..."
Her words came in broken fragments between quiet sobs.
"I would never shame you... I would never..."
Bai-Xue's expression softened even further.
She raised her hand and gently wiped away Jan-Mei's tears, brushing them from her cheeks with careful strokes.
"I know," Bai-Xue said quietly.
Her tone was firm.
Certain.
"I know you didn't."
Jan-Mei's breathing gradually steadied under her reassurance.
Bai-Xue leaned slightly closer, her lips near Jan-Mei's ear, and murmured in a calm, almost amused whisper—
"Stand properly."
A faint glimmer flickered in her eyes.
"And watch the show."
Behind them, Hai-Rang was still being supported out of the pond—drenched, furious, and trembling with rage.
The morning sun shone brightly over the lotus pond.
But the true storm—
Had only just begun.
"Third Lady, what have you done? I will report this to Master Chang-Pu. You will surely be punished for such outrageous behavior!"
The maid's voice trembled with anger and humiliation, yet she tried to sound brave. By then, Hai-Rang's other maid had already climbed out of the pond, her robes soaked and clinging heavily to her thin frame. She hurried to her mistress's side, wringing out Hai-Rang's drenched sleeves with shaking hands, desperately trying to dry the fine silk that was never meant to touch muddy water.
Mist rose from the pond, curling into the cool air like pale spirits watching the unfolding drama.
Bai-Xue stood a short distance away.
Her expression did not change.
No anger.
No guilt.
Not even satisfaction.
Her face was as calm and empty as still winter snow. She merely looked at the maid who had dared to raise her voice, her gaze steady and unreadable.
After a long moment, Bai-Xue let out a slow, measured breath.
"Haah..."
The sound was soft, yet it carried clearly across the courtyard.
"Like foolish master, like foolish maid," she said coldly. "And even if you run to Father and tell him everything... what exactly do you think he will do?"
Her eyes sharpened slightly, a faint glimmer of frost surfacing within them.
"Before that, tell me—who gave you the courage to speak to me in such a tone?"
Her voice was not loud. It did not need to be.
It was the kind of voice that pressed down on the heart, heavy and suffocating.
By now, the commotion had drawn attention. Maids from the kitchens and servants from nearby corridors had gathered at the edge of the courtyard. They did not dare step too close, yet none could look away. Whispered murmurs drifted like restless wind, eyes darting between the soaked Hai-Rang and the unyielding Bai-Xue.
Hai-Rang's wet hair clung to her pale cheeks, her pride far more wounded than her body. The humiliation of falling into the pond in front of so many burned hotter than any physical pain.
But Bai-Xue remained still.