The week of house arrest passed in unexpected comfort. The sun rose slowly over the city, spilling golden light across Yue's chambers. For once, there was no chaos to answer, no expectations to meet, no deceit to untangle—only the steady, quiet rhythm of the house and the distant hum of the city beyond the walls. She rose each morning, stretched her limbs, and let her mind wander over long-forgotten memories, dreams of her past life, and the careful steps she would take next.
Hours were spent reading—not only texts of strategy, law, and trade, but also delicate volumes of poetry and philosophy she had secretly collected. Words of patience, subtlety, and observation whispered lessons she now wielded like hidden blades. Afternoons were devoted to planning. Every corner of the household, every servant, every minor flaw was cataloged and noted. Lists were made: who could be trusted, who could be manipulated, who must be removed. Even the smallest hesitation, a flicker of fear, a whispered complaint, was stored carefully in her mind.
At night, when the corridors were silent, Yue allowed herself brief reflection. She remembered her past life: endless days spent trying to be the perfect wife, tending to her husband's every need, anticipating his family's whims, maintaining appearances. Every misstep had been met with criticism. Every word had been measured, every expression studied. Those lessons had forged her tools—patience, calculation, observation. Now, she could see patterns, anticipate behavior, and manipulate outcomes without revealing her hand.
---
Two servants had proven unworthy of her trust.
Nanny Lin, who had been with her all her life, whispered advice and comforted her in secret—but Lin had betrayed her. Pain cut deep, for Yue had trusted her like family. Yet Lin could still be useful. Carefully handled, she could be turned into a tool; every secret, every half-truth, fodder for Yue's plans.
Xiao An, by contrast, was expendable. Naïve, untested, without loyalty or subtlety. Yue would remove her—but publicly, to serve as an example. The theft was staged. Earlier, Yue had sent Mei Ling with a small jade pendant, carefully placed under the sheets in Xiao An's bed. Now, when the girl entered the room, her eyes widened at the sight. The pendant glinted innocently in the lamplight, lying exactly where it shouldn't.
"Xiao An!" Yue's voice rang sharply down the hallway.
The girl froze, panic overtaking her. Her hands shook, hovering above the bed as if she could snatch the pendant away, but it was too late. She glanced at Nanny Lin, silently pleading—but Lin remained unreadable, calm, distant.
"I… I didn't! I didn't, Miss Yue!" Xiao An stammered, voice cracking.
"You didn't?" Yue's tone cut through the clamor. "You touched it. You handled it. Explain."
Xiao An's eyes darted from the pendant to Yue, then to the other servants. Sweat beaded on her brow. "I… I… I don't know how it got there!"
Yue stepped forward, gaze unwavering. "Even the smallest act of betrayal disrupts order. Even the weakest failure cannot go unchecked."
Whispers spread through the hall. Servants leaned closer, eyes wide, eager to see the punishment unfold. Each tremor in Xiao An's hands, each stammered word, was magnified in the tense silence.
From the staircase, her stepsister observed, polite but slightly uneasy, a flicker of fear crossing her otherwise composed face. "Yue… is this really necessary?" she asked softly.
Inside, Yue's thoughts were sharp: That meek, timid girl I knew… gone. And Yue… precise, cold, unyielding.
Xiao An's panic escalated. "I… I'll work harder! Please… don't send me away!"
Yue's gaze softened just enough to control hope, not offer it. "No. Your time here is over. Learn this lesson, even if it costs you everything."
Two male servants stepped forward, guiding Xiao An firmly but without cruelty. Each hesitant step she took toward the door was a drumbeat of humiliation. The pendant, lying in plain view, glinted one last time in the lamplight before the door closed behind her with a sharp echo. Silence fell.
---
Later, in the quiet of Yue's chambers, Mei Ling gently introduced Lingling, the young orphan Yue had chosen to assist her. Lingling lingered at the threshold, clutching her bundle of linens, timid and uncertain. Her pulse raced; the grandeur of Yue's chambers and the calm authority she radiated made the girl's hands tremble.
"Miss Yue, this is Lingling," Mei Ling said softly, smiling. "She will be helping you from now on. Go ahead, introduce yourself."
Lingling bowed quickly, cheeks pink. "I… I am Lingling, Miss Yue. I will try my best."
"Good," Yue said, voice calm, authoritative, yet faintly warm. "Sit here," she gestured to a low stool near her writing desk. Lingling lowered herself carefully, eyes wide and attentive.
Mei Ling stepped forward with a neatly folded sheet. "I'll show you how to fold it first. Watch carefully, then try. I'll guide your hands if you need it."
Lingling leaned in, heart hammering, watching Mei Ling's movements. She guided Lingling's fingers gently, demonstrating each fold and tuck. Yue observed silently, gaze sharp but approving.
"Very good," Yue said softly. "Small mistakes don't matter as long as you try carefully. Attention and effort are more valuable than perfection."
Lingling blinked up at her, encouraged. "I… I understand, Miss Yue. Thank you, Mei Ling."
Yue allowed herself a faint, approving smile. With Mei Ling's gentle guidance and her own measured oversight, Lingling could grow into a loyal and reliable assistant.
"Now," Yue said, stepping closer, "take another sheet and fold it on your own. Mei Ling will watch, but I want to see your attention and thoughtfulness."
The girl nodded, swallowing nervously, but her hands moved more confidently. Yue noted the progress silently: loyalty and care could be cultivated. Even caution, when guided, could become strength.
---
Her thoughts drifted again to Nanny Lin—dangerous, unpredictable, but potentially useful. Carefully handled, Lin could reveal Madam Hua's secrets or serve as leverage. Every half-truth, every lie, could be turned to Yue's advantage.
One more maid would still be needed—older, capable, loyal. Someone who could act unseen, maintain the household, and assist Yue's plans without constant supervision.
Soon, Yue would visit her uncle's house. Allies were necessary, even within family. Carefully chosen, handled, and loyal, they would strengthen her position.
For now, the household was her chessboard. Lin was a piece, useful only when played correctly. Xiao An had been removed—a public lesson. Lingling, guided quietly by Yue and Mei Ling, and the yet-to-select maid would become her hands in the shadows.
Yue paused in the doorway, hand resting on the frame. Outside, the city roared, oblivious. Inside, every move, every calculation, every piece—falling into place. She allowed herself a faint, cold smile. The work had only just begun.