I, too, possess an unyielding spirit.

Oulan sat quietly in her chamber, waiting for the groom. Emerald Bamboo entered with a bright smile. “Princess.”

“What have you been up to? You’re growing more and more careless in your duties,” she said, though her tone was light and playful.

“Replying to the Princess, I was just being lazy for a moment. Today is Your Highness’s wedding day, so I knew I must be diligent. I went to fetch water to wash my face and wake myself up, but halfway there, I was tripped by a beast!” Emerald Bamboo giggled as she poured Oulan a cup of tea.

“Hmph, you mischievous girl—always making excuses for your playfulness.” Oulan smoothed her bangs. It was about time; Pan Yueyang should be arriving soon.

“Princess, I’ll sneak a peek at the banquet hall,” Emerald Bamboo said, eager to please.

“No need. From now on, be sharp and keep a close eye on those two wretches,” Oulan replied, admiring her lacquered nails. The room, festooned for celebration, looked truly beautiful.

“I’ve already gone ahead and paid that little tramp a visit,” Emerald Bamboo said, immediately flattering Oulan as she tidied her scattered hair.

“Oh? You’re quite bold,” Oulan remarked, not in the least displeased but rather approving.

Mistress and servant waited together for Pan Yueyang. Night had fallen, and Emerald Bamboo grew restless, repeatedly sending for the groom. Oulan was in no hurry; Pan Yueyang would not dare stay away. By morning, the palace staff would come to collect the veil of purity. If Pan Yueyang did not come, it would become a scandal.

Sure enough, the door was kicked open with rough disdain, and Pan Yueyang staggered in, reeking of wine.

“Sir Consort…” Emerald Bamboo began, but Oulan waved her away. With a pout, Emerald Bamboo withdrew, closing the door behind her.

“Let us retire,” Oulan said, her alluring eyes brimming with charm.

Pan Yueyang eyed her, picked up a wine cup, poured two drinks, and downed them in a single gulp.

The next morning, Oulan smiled as Emerald Bamboo dressed and styled her. The man behind the bed curtains showed no sign of waking. Oulan did not mind; the passion of the previous night left her more than satisfied with this man. His roughness had unexpectedly been to her liking.

Today, they were to return to the palace, so she had risen early to prepare. “Emerald Bamboo, is that wretch still kneeling?”

“Replying to the Princess, that little tramp has been kneeling since yesterday.”

Within the curtains, the man’s eyes snapped open. He did not rise at once but lay quietly.

“Come with me,” Oulan commanded, glancing at the bed curtains. “Husband, rise early. Your younger sisters are waiting to serve you tea.” Without a backward glance, she turned and left.

Pan Yueyang pounded the bed in frustration, his jaw clenched tight, muscles taut. Yan’er! He loathed this marriage, steeped in political intrigue. He loathed his own powerlessness in the face of authority.

“You, get up!” Emerald Bamboo supported Oulan as they entered the main hall where the wedding ceremony had been held. Seeing Yan’er curled on the floor, Emerald Bamboo delivered a vicious kick.

“Ah…” Yan’er’s voice was barely a whisper, roused by the sudden pain.

Oulan said nothing, sitting elegantly and watching as Emerald Bamboo berated Yan’er.

“Truly shameless! It’s well past dawn, and still you laze about while the Princess waits for her tea!” Emerald Bamboo punctuated her words with another kick.

Yan’er swayed, moving her body with difficulty before bowing low and kneeling once more.

“Princess, this wretch is far too insolent. Look at her!” Emerald Bamboo glared at Yan’er with resentment.

Such stubborn silence frustrated Oulan. She had hoped this woman would beg for mercy at her feet, so she could trample her dignity. Yet this woman, with her unbending pride, refused to utter a word. Well, if she would not speak, Oulan had ways to make her.

“Ahem,” Oulan cleared her throat. Sensing her cue, Emerald Bamboo immediately approached with a smile.

“Is the Princess thirsty? I shall brew some tea at once.” Soon, Emerald Bamboo returned, beaming, and placed a steaming tea set before Yan’er.

“Wretch! Why haven’t you offered tea to the new mistress? You angered the Princess yesterday—have you learned nothing?” Emerald Bamboo poured a cup of scalding tea, having personally overseen its preparation.

Yan’er lowered her head, forcing herself upright. “This servant, Yan’er, offers tea to the First Lady.”

Oulan smiled. “So you finally admit you’re a servant? But you overestimate yourself—you’re a lowly maid!”

Emerald Bamboo seized Yan’er’s hand and thrust the cup into her palm. Hot water spilled over, splashing everywhere.

“Ah!” The boiling water burned Yan’er’s hands and body, stinging to the bone. The cup fell to the floor with a crash, and Yan’er clutched her hands, rubbing the scalded skin.

“How bold of you!” Oulan slapped the table. Several household servants knelt in fright; the First Lady was truly formidable.

“Wretch! You dare show disrespect to the First Lady!” Emerald Bamboo twisted Yan’er’s cheek.

“What are you doing!” Pan Yueyang had dressed and followed the malicious pair into the hall, arriving just as Emerald Bamboo was yanking Yan’er’s face.

“Husband,” Oulan said, rising with dignity. “Emerald Bamboo, cease at once. You grow increasingly unruly.”

“Yes,” Emerald Bamboo replied, cowed by Pan Yueyang.

“Why do you treat my concubine with such violence?” Pan Yueyang helped Yan’er up. She shook off his hand, supporting herself as she rose. After kneeling so long, her legs were numb, and every movement was a struggle.

“How could I? It was only this maid’s insolence,” Oulan replied, glaring at Emerald Bamboo.

“Forgive me, Sir Consort,” Emerald Bamboo begged, slapping her own face. “I was only aggrieved on my mistress’s behalf and offended Lady Yan’er in the heat of the moment.”

“Enough! Is there no end to this farce?” Pan Yueyang found Emerald Bamboo more irritating by the moment.

She quickly stopped. “Sir Consort, Lady Yan’er was to offer tea to Her Highness, but as I handed her the cup, she dropped it, and so…”

Pan Yueyang glanced at Yan’er. “Why are you all standing there? Take her to rest!”

Yan’er cast Pan Yueyang a cold look but said nothing, allowing two young maids to support her as she left.

“You—drag her out and give her twenty strokes!” Pan Yueyang pointed at Emerald Bamboo. He was no fool; he could see clearly who was at fault.

“Husband!”

“Sir Consort!” Mistress and maid spoke at once. Emerald Bamboo knelt and kowtowed desperately. Twenty strokes—how could she survive such a punishment?

“Emerald Bamboo was brought from the palace by me. She belongs to the palace. I know my husband’s discipline is justified, but such punishment must be carried out by palace staff. Husband, don’t delay any longer. It’s time to return to the palace,” Oulan said, taking Pan Yueyang’s hand, her breath fragrant.

“Hmph!” Once again, she used the Emperor as leverage. Pan Yueyang clenched his fists in frustration.

“Come, Husband.” She took his arm, glancing back at Emerald Bamboo. “Well, hurry up and follow us.” Useless girl.

Yan’er was helped into her cold little courtyard room. The chill of late autumn seeped into her bones. After the maids left, she sat at the bedside, body aching and weary, and soon drifted into sleep.

“Yan’er!” Pan Yueyang lifted her in his arms, spinning her three times in the air, showering her with affection as he kissed her forehead.

She giggled shyly. “Look, Yueyang, the sea is beautiful.” Yan’er pointed to the sunset dipping toward the horizon, released Pan Yueyang’s hand, and ran toward the fading light, bathed in golden rays.

“It is beautiful. Yan’er, do you have a wish?” Pan Yueyang breathed deeply of the moist sea air.

“Yueyang! I want you to face the sea, face the sunset, and shout three times that you’ll love only me in this life, and be with me forever!” Yan’er called out to the ocean, then turned to Pan Yueyang with expectant eyes.

“Very well. I, Pan Yueyang, swear to love only Yan’er in this life and forever—”

Before he could finish, the sky changed. Dark clouds rolled in, blotting out the light. The sea stilled, turning gray as the sky. Yan’er clutched Pan Yueyang’s hand, nervous.

“I will make Pan Yueyang love me for a lifetime. His love for me will blossom across the mountains and fields! In this life and the next, he is mine! You will have nothing!” Oulan’s voice rang out from the heavens, each word a dagger plunging into Yan’er’s heart.

Yan’er struggled desperately, but everywhere she looked, flowers of every hue bloomed magically across mountains, land, and lakes. Everywhere was awash with blossoms. In her ears echoed Pan Yueyang’s laughter: “I, Pan Yueyang, will only love Oulan in this life, never to part, bound in life and death. We will always be together! I belong to Oulan!”

Yan’er jolted awake, her body cold. She touched her forehead—no sweat.

A dream, only a dream, but such a terrible dream. The image of mountains covered in blooming flowers and Pan Yueyang’s solemn vows replayed in her mind.

She looked up. “What one thinks of by day, one dreams of by night.” She tried to calm herself, but the fear lingered. Glancing at the murky sky, she guessed she had slept the day away.

“Fenghe, Fenghe?” Regaining some strength, she suddenly wondered where her maid had gone. Since returning, she hadn’t seen any sign of Fenghe.

Yan’er staggered out of bed, realizing she’d fallen asleep without even removing her shoes. Surely, if Fenghe had come in, she would have noticed? A sense of foreboding crept over her. Ignoring her pain, she hurried out, calling for Fenghe throughout the small courtyard.

“Fenghe, Feng—” Yan’er was stunned into silence at the sight before her.

Fenghe stood there, her face covered in blood.

With a cry, Yan’er fainted.