Chapter 50: A Stern First Impression

“Serving tea to pay respects?” Yan’er couldn’t recall anyone mentioning such a custom to her. For an occasion as grand as marrying a princess, women of her status shouldn’t even be present—how could she be expected to go and serve tea to the princess today?

“Yes, when we moved in yesterday, the steward told you personally. Have you forgotten?” Feng He was certain Yan’er had forgotten. Her mistress always acted indifferent to everything; she’d probably paid no attention to the steward’s ramblings yesterday, only nodding along at the end.

“Oh.” Yan’er rose without joy or sorrow.

“Ordinarily, we wouldn’t need to pay our respects, but the princess insisted. She said that since we’ll all be sisters from now on, what does it matter the day? In my eyes, her intentions aren’t so simple. Madam, you must be careful.” Feng He began her endless nagging.

Pan Yueyang led the bridal sedan chair for a grand circuit around the Imperial City, following the custom for auspicious omens. His cold face betrayed no hint of a smile, like a puppet mechanically acknowledging the blessings of the people.

Finally, after the procession, the princess’s eight-carried yellow-topped sedan reached the general’s mansion. The servants, who had been waiting outside, swiftly set off firecrackers to welcome the bridal sedan, the thunderous noise echoing for miles.

After the firecrackers, the eight guards lifted the sedan again and carried it steadily inside the mansion. No one dared be negligent. Once in the courtyard, the sedan was set down, and a little girl of five or six appeared as the “flower sedan maiden”—reportedly the Minister’s granddaughter. The little girl obediently entered the sedan, gently tugged the princess’s sleeve three times, and Ou Ruolan smiled beneath her red veil, rising and stepping out.

Pan Yueyang brought the princess into the main hall. Pan Zhongtian sat at the head, with the capital’s dignitaries and officials flanking him—anyone with the faintest connection had come to offer congratulations. The master of ceremonies was the Minister, who beamed as the couple stood before the hall.

“It is a blessing beyond measure to bear witness to this union,” he declared. At his words, the ceremonial music began.

The entire process followed the rites: three kneelings, nine kowtows, six formal bows.

With the ceremony complete, the officials withdrew, and the couple was to be led to the bridal chamber.

“Wait!” came a sudden voice from beneath the red veil.

All fell silent; by custom, the bride should not speak at this moment. But today’s bride was the emperor’s daughter, the Third Princess Ou Ruolan—her words were law.

“I have yet to receive the greetings of my two younger sisters,” Ou Ruolan announced, her veil still in place, hiding a face filled with satisfaction.

“This… surely it’s inappropriate for those two to appear on such an auspicious day,” Pan Zhongtian objected, unsure of the princess’s intent.

Ou Ruolan smiled. “Husband, perhaps you could lift my veil for me?”

Pan Yueyang glanced at the gathering, then with a quiet laugh, lifted the veil.

Ou Ruolan’s carefully adorned face was revealed. “On this joyful day, I think my two sisters ought to congratulate me as well, since they’ve served my husband before I have.”

She glanced about and seated herself on a rosewood chair. Her personal maid, Cui Zhu, quietly instructed the servants to bring a pot of hot tea.

Pin’er and Yan’er had been waiting in a side room since morning. The princess had already warned them she would call them to serve tea in public today—there was no avoiding this performance. Pin’er patted Yan’er’s hand. “Don’t worry—the princess won’t go too far on such an occasion.”

Yan’er managed a faint smile, saying nothing. At first, she’d been anxious, but then she realized she had nothing left to fear. Her heart was already numb. If today brought her death, it would be better than living on under threats to her parents from Pan Yueyang.

“Someone, fetch the two mistresses,” Cui Zhu commanded. Having served the princess for years, she understood her mistress’s intentions perfectly.

Ou Ruolan, seeing the hesitant Pan household servants, added, “Cui Zhu knows my mind best”—making clear her maid’s words carried her own authority.

“Hurry,” urged Dan Yunjie, knowing the princess was not to be trifled with, as he signaled a servant.

Pin’er and Yan’er soon emerged from the side room and surveyed the scene. Pan Zhongtian remained seated at the head, and although the princess was of imperial birth, she had chosen her seat on a side chair, observing propriety.

“Pin’er greets the Princess and Principal Madam,” Pin’er intoned, kneeling with her forehead to the floor.

“Yan’er greets the Principal Madam,” Yan’er echoed, kneeling with cold detachment.

“Insolence! You ignorant wretch, have you no sense of decorum?” Cui Zhu barked harshly.

Ou Ruolan raised a hand, signaling Cui Zhu to say no more.

An awkward silence fell. The two women remained kneeling with foreheads pressed to the floor. Ou Ruolan turned to Pan Yueyang. “Husband, your favor toward them is their good fortune, but no matter how great their fortune, they must not become arrogant.”

Pin’er’s respectful greeting pleased Ou Ruolan greatly, but she could find no favor in Yan’er no matter how she looked at her.

“Why become angry on such a joyous day, Princess?” Pan Yueyang protested, feeling his authority challenged—after all, this was his own household, and she had come in making demands.

“You’re quite right, my husband,” Ou Ruolan replied. With a nod, Cui Zhu brought the hot tea to Pin’er.

“Madam Pin’er, please serve the tea,” Cui Zhu said, lowering the tray as much as she could.

“I dare not. I have not yet received the Principal Madam’s response—how can I rise and serve tea prematurely?” Pin’er’s words brought a rare smile to Ou Ruolan’s lips.

“You are sensible, sister. Rise,” Ou Ruolan permitted, noting Pin’er’s pale pink attire. The day she entered the palace, she had worn white; today, she’d chosen a festive yet subdued color, avoiding trouble.

Pin’er knelt, respectfully lifted the tea cup above her head, and presented it. “Princess, Principal Madam, please accept this tea.”

Seeing a woman as beautiful as herself forced to humble submission, Ou Ruolan felt a secret delight. “Mm,” she replied.

But she did not accept the cup herself, instead instructing Cui Zhu to take it. “Oh dear, Your Highness, this tea is quite cold—not fit for your noble self.” With that, Cui Zhu set it aside.

“Rise—since we are all sisters now, there’s no need for such ceremony,” Ou Ruolan said, then turned her gaze to the other kneeling woman.

“This sister of mine truly does not respect me,” Ou Ruolan said, still remembering the recent performance at court, where Yan’er had outshone everyone.

“You are ignorant of proper conduct, daring to compare yourself to a princess. Such insolence deserves death,” Cui Zhu interjected. Yet Yan’er gave no response, remaining kneeling in silence. Infuriated, Cui Zhu shouted, “When you kneel to the princess, you must announce your full name and not refer to yourself as a mere servant—otherwise, it’s a capital offense!”

A faint smile appeared on Yan’er’s face, pressed to the floor.

“Why make things so difficult for two lowly women?” Pan Yueyang said, disliking anyone asserting authority over him. He served the state, not a princess.

“My husband is right—let us not miss the auspicious hour.” Ou Ruolan stood. “Chancellor.”

“Oh—yes, to the bridal chamber.” The Chancellor, jolted from his thoughts, signaled the ceremony to continue.

Pan Yueyang cast a glance at Yan’er, still kneeling, before being ushered toward the bridal chamber.

So, before all the wedding guests, Yan’er remained kneeling before an empty chair. No one dared speak for her or plead on her behalf. Time passed; Yan’er’s body ached from remaining bent over, and her belly, now four months along, had begun to show. The position made it difficult even to breathe. After the princess and Pan Yueyang entered the bridal chamber, people slowly drifted away, presumably to the banquet. At last, all was silent.

Then footsteps sounded—soft and slow. Yan’er tried to raise her head and see who it was.

A woman’s shriek rang out—familiar in tone. Yan’er rolled aside and looked up. It was Cui Zhu, the princess’s personal maid, clutching her waist as she struggled to her feet.

“Kneel!” Cui Zhu sneered. “You wretch! Do you realize you were in my way, nearly making me fall?”

Yan’er gave her a mocking look. Clearly, Cui Zhu had kicked her on purpose, but now she played the victim.

“What’s that look?” Cui Zhu demanded, then viciously kicked Yan’er in the stomach.

Yan’er bit her lip, a hiss escaping her as tears gathered in her eyes—the blows landed squarely on her belly.

“Kneel properly.” Cui Zhu dusted off her hands and circled Yan’er. “Hmph, wretch.”

Yan’er, in pain, remained kneeling, hating herself a little.

“The princess hasn’t told you to rise, so you’ll keep kneeling. Still, you’re an eyesore.” Cui Zhu paced slowly around her.

Yan’er tensed, uncertain where the next blow might fall from this malicious maid.

“You’re still a concubine, my mistress by title—I wouldn’t dare defy you,” Cui Zhu said, finally squatting down to meet Yan’er’s gaze.

Yan’er turned her face and gave Cui Zhu a scornful smile. “As the servant, so is the master.”

“What did you say?” Cui Zhu sprang to her feet. “You dare insult the princess? Tired of living, are you?” She kicked Yan’er’s shoulder several times.

“I said, as the servant, so is the master.” Yan’er repeated, kneeling.

“You’ve got a death wish. Just as the princess said, you’re a seductress who bewitches men! With that fox-like face—nothing but a temptress!” Her kicks grew more frenzied.

Yan’er couldn’t help crying out softly from the pain.

“Oh, does it hurt?” Cui Zhu asked mockingly. “Well, my foot hurts from kicking you, too.” Her twisted pleasure was obvious. “But what of it? I’m not done tormenting you yet.”

“Do as you please,” Yan’er said, closing her eyes.

This displeased Cui Zhu, who twisted Yan’er’s ear viciously. “Remember this—today is only the beginning. The princess will make you beg for death.”