The tragedy of women

These past few days, Wanwan had been obediently lying in bed, nursing her injured back. All the details of her daily life were managed with great care by Feng He, who tended to her every need. Whenever Wanwan’s body grew heavy from lying still, Feng He would gently massage her languid limbs, and with three meals a day plus various snacks, in just a few days, Wanwan had become fair and plump.

"Feng He," Wanwan called, attempting to sit up.

"Miss, you should lie back down for now, lest you hurt yourself again." Over the past few days, Feng He had developed a real fondness for her new mistress. Wanwan never made things difficult for the servants, nor did she speak unnecessarily. Whatever Feng He did or suggested, Wanwan would do her utmost to cooperate. If not for her own role as a servant, Feng He sometimes felt as if their positions were reversed—she like the mistress, Wanwan like an obedient maid.

"No, Feng He, I think I’m almost recovered. I can walk just fine now," Wanwan said, rubbing her sore back. "Feng He, may I go for a walk?"

"Of course, Miss, whatever you wish," Feng He replied, bending to help Wanwan put on her embroidered shoes and steadying her as she rose. The general had given no special instructions, so Feng He decided to address her as 'Miss.'

During these days, Pan Yueyang had not visited again, but Wanwan did not dwell on it. She stood up, swaying a little as her legs felt weak, and with Feng He’s support, she ambled around the room. "Feng He, my back doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m healed!" Wanwan said excitedly, eyes gleaming with relief at finally escaping that cursed bed. She hadn’t realized how pleasant walking could be, after being confined and feeling as heavy as lead for days.

Feng He glanced out the window. "Miss, it isn’t as oppressively hot today as it was before. Why not let me accompany you outside for a walk?"

Wanwan’s face lit up at the suggestion. "We can go out? That’s wonderful! Please, take me for a walk!"

With her usual gentle smile, Feng He supported Wanwan as they left the inner chamber.

Their walk was confined to the small courtyard outside Pan Yueyang’s main room. Official residences were often designed this way—besides the public gardens and guest entertainment areas, the rest consisted of numerous courtyards, each belonging to a different master. Each courtyard had its own little garden and pavilion, with rooms for masters and servants alike. Wanwan had been living in the servants’ quarters of Pan Yueyang’s Yunlu Courtyard. Each courtyard also had its own small kitchen; unless there was some major banquet, the daily meals were prepared there for the residents. The steward’s role was simply to distribute the monthly allowances and handle the masters’ expenses.

Wanwan and Feng He were strolling back and forth in front of Pan Yueyang’s main chamber.

"Miss Xueqing," Feng He, sharp-eyed, noticed Xueqing approaching alone through the arched entrance and respectfully greeted her.

Xueqing had known they were here. As soon as she approached the courtyard, with years of martial training and deep reserves of inner strength, she had sensed the faint footsteps outside Yueyang’s room. Smiling, she nodded at them, and Feng He rose from her curtsey.

"Sister Xueqing," Wanwan greeted obediently. It was Xueqing who had brought her into the household, and from her first day, Xueqing had been instructing her.

"Wanwan, there’s no need for such formalities," Xueqing said, supporting Wanwan before she could bow. Since Yueyang had chosen to keep her, Xueqing had inquired discreetly, and Wanwan was now considered one of Yueyang’s women. No matter how uneasy that made her feel, she understood that Wanwan was now, at least in part, a mistress of the household.

"Sister Xueqing, I wanted to ask about Madam Zhang... A few days ago, she had me wash some clothes, but I haven’t finished yet," Wanwan said, bowing her head with a child’s guilt, as if she had been caught in a misdeed.

"Wanwan, you don’t have to do laundry anymore. You’re the general’s woman now, and as such, half a mistress in this house. These chores are for others to handle." Xueqing stood opposite Wanwan, neither distant nor intimate. "I heard recently that you were injured. Are you feeling better today?"

"Much better! Thank you for your concern, Sister Xueqing," Wanwan replied, giving Xueqing a radiant smile.

That smile startled Xueqing. No wonder Yueyang had chosen to keep her—this girl was not only stunningly beautiful, but her smile was so innocent and pure, untouched by worldly desires or cunning. Xueqing had not seen such a smile in a long time.

"I won’t stay long. Rest well and recover," Xueqing said, and left almost as if she were fleeing.

Xueqing had suppressed the urge to seek Wanwan out for a long time. This woman who had appeared out of nowhere had become an obstacle in her life, yet whether the obstacle was present or not, it hardly mattered. She was not Yueyang’s woman, after all. Today, with nothing else to do, she had wandered to Yunlu Courtyard almost unconsciously, drawn by a force she couldn’t resist. If she hadn’t seen Wanwan, perhaps she could have kept her wits about her and fought for her place. But upon meeting her, even Xueqing found herself liking Wanwan—and if she felt that way, how could a man not?

With a bitter smile, Xueqing lowered her head and walked away. Before she’d gone far, she sensed someone else approaching—a woman, soft and delicate, and she instantly knew who it was. With a swift movement, Xueqing concealed herself among the thick branches overhead.

"Madam, what if we run into the general inside?" Doudou fretted, having thought about it for a long time.

"What’s there to be afraid of? We’re just going to see that wretch—and besides, she’ll have to greet me as a sister from now on. What’s the harm in paying a visit?" Unable to bear her maid’s timidity, Pin’er shot her a disdainful glare.

Hidden in the tree, Xueqing curled her lip in contempt. Shallow women, so easily ruffled!

Accompanied by Feng He, Wanwan continued her slow circuit. "Miss, that’s enough for now. Don’t tire yourself out—let’s go back and rest," Feng He urged.

"I’m not tired, but if you say so, I’ll listen," Wanwan replied with a sweet, obedient smile, turning to head inside.

"Oh my, is my little sister deliberately avoiding me as soon as I arrive?" Pin’er had just stepped into the inner courtyard, and seeing the two about to return inside, she immediately raised her voice.

Wanwan turned in surprise. Before her stood a woman in white, her face delicately made up, gentle as water, with sorrowful, limpid eyes—a vision as ethereal as a fairy descended to earth.

Feng He leaned close and whispered, "Miss, this is the general’s favored concubine, Madam Pin’er."

Wanwan blinked her large, innocent eyes, uncomprehending.

Pin’er approached with a graceful, smiling air, her womanly elegance on full display. "Sister," she greeted warmly, her words striking straight at Wanwan’s heart.

Seeing Wanwan’s dazed expression, Pin’er felt secretly pleased. Though this strange beauty surpassed her in looks, that vacant, hollow gaze meant she was no real threat.

With exaggerated warmth, she took Wanwan’s hand. "Sister, you’ve not been here long, and I heard you were unwell recently, so perhaps you haven’t met me yet." Her laughter tinkled like silver bells as she pulled Wanwan into her room.

"Yes," Wanwan nodded obediently. She truly didn’t know; all she knew was Madam Zhang, Chef Zhang, Feng He, and a few other faces she barely recognized. This beautiful woman was one she’d never seen before.

"Fairy sister!" Wanwan exclaimed, her delighted face breaking into a wide smile.

Pin’er was utterly charmed by the description; this was music to her ears.

"Are you feeling better now, little sister?" Pin’er asked, her tone still affectionate, never letting go of Wanwan’s hand, as if they were old friends.

"I’m all better! I can even go outside now. Fairy sister, how are you so beautiful?" Wanwan looked at her with genuine admiration.

"You’re just as lovely. I’d heard you were a great beauty, and my curiosity got the better of me, so when I heard you’d recovered, I had to come visit. Come, sit and talk with me. Don’t overtire yourself, or it won’t just be me who’s worried—our general will be even more distressed," Pin’er said, taking the initiative as though she were the true mistress of the house.

Wanwan sat as instructed.

"Now that I see you’re well, I’m relieved. I won’t keep you from your rest. I live in Autumn Court—if you’re ever bored, you’re welcome to visit me," Pin’er added, finding no real pleasure in conversing with Wanwan. She would speak and Wanwan would simply agree; if not for those empty eyes, she might have thought the woman was a masterful actress.

"All right," Wanwan agreed eagerly to the fairy sister’s invitation.

Pin’er finally released Wanwan’s hand. Doudou stepped forward to support her mistress. "Madam, mind the steps..." The two left at a measured pace.

Pin’er glanced back, her expression as gentle as water, but inside she felt relieved. All the time she’d held Wanwan’s hand was to test her inner strength—her dantian was empty. With a silent sigh, Pin’er reminded herself not to get too emotionally involved. She was here on a mission, after all, and had to hide her martial skills. The tragedy was that, while spying on Pan Yueyang, she had fallen in love with him.

Xueqing dropped down from the tree. Pin’er’s face remained impassive, but her eyes flicked upward. There she was again. She must find a way to sow discord between Pan Yueyang and Xueqing, or this woman would become a stumbling block for her lord.

Pretending not to notice anyone behind her, Pin’er sighed softly.

"Madam, what’s the matter?" Doudou asked, sensing her mistress’s melancholy.

"It’s nothing, I was just thinking of someone," Pin’er replied with unusual gravity, gazing ahead.

"Who?" Doudou asked, following her gaze—there was nothing ahead but flowers and grass. Whatever was her lady thinking about?

"Xueqing," Pin’er said, her voice tinged with concern.

"What about Miss Xueqing?" Doudou was baffled by the intrigues of these high-born women.

"The tragedy of women..." Pin’er closed her eyes; the words were as much for Xueqing as for herself.

After a moment to compose herself, Pin’er continued, "Let’s go back to Autumn Court, I’m tired." She shot a glance over her shoulder.

As the two departed, Xueqing stepped out from the shadows of the veranda.

Leaning against the pillar, she pondered Pin’er’s words: the tragedy of women...