Mei Lan basked in the afterglow of "her" success, parading around the Su residence with the invitation clutched in her delicate hands. She imagined the compliments of all nobles and how at this moment she was the talk of the capital. Their approving gazes, every murmured compliment, how their minds were probably all on her by now. Completely oblivious to the fact that nobles loved to gossip but they too also had lives aside from it. In her mind there was no question that she was the chosen guest of the Queen and the 1st Prince, the future crown princess to be. The irony, of course, was that everything she had currently: being chosen by the 1st prince, every whisper of admiration, her "talents" was all built on Anming's skills, smarts, his discipline, his pain, and most of all his hatred. But Mei Lan would never admit it, as her joy receded she eagerly turned to her mother and demanded excitedly, "Mother, read it! Quickly!"
Lei Ming broke the wax seal with graceful fingers and read aloud: The Queen and the 1st Prince cordially invite Lady Mei Lan to the Flower of Youth Gathering.
Mei Lan nearly trembled with delight, her heart fluttering as she listened to the words of her mother. Mei Lan's entire body buzzed with anticipation. Her mind spun with images of the 1st Prince's lingering gaze, of the Empress's approving nod, never realizing how little of it truly belonged to her.
But as the giddiness faded, a calculating look crossed her face, she glanced at Anming and then looked forward. "Mother, I think I should go alone this time. If he comes, he'll just ruin everything. I want the Prince's attention all to myself."
Anming, listening from the sidelines, nearly laughed at her audacity. She truly believed herself the star of the show, never truly realizing the stage would collapse without him holding it up. If she went alone, the Prince's interest would evaporate in a moment. Yet, it was as if she constantly forgot or refused to admit. It was never a good idea for her to move politically without him.
Didn't she get it by now? Has she not learned anything from last time? She was nothing without him!
It appeared that he would have to remind her of that but, before he could speak up, Lei Ming had intervened.
"I understand your worries, Mei Lan," Lei Ming said smoothly, "and your anger with such a lowly creature." Her eyes cut to Anming, cold and dismissive. "But I disagree. After the last time, we can't risk any missteps. Anming will come along, especially with the Empress and the 1st Prince being involved. Your reputation must be flawless."
Mei Lan scowled, lips pursed. "But Mother—"
"We'll compromise. You don't have to use him, but he'll be there. Call on him if you stumble, he is your safety net. That is why he still exists at all. It is his only purpose." The statement left no room for argument, reluctantly Mei Lan had to accept.
And Anming, his being was once again disregarded and treated as if he was invisible. Such treatment and insults from his step mother would have made anyone angry, but Anming's gaze did not flicker one bit. He was truly calm, inwardly and outwardly. Delusion was a sickness and he clearly didn't have it.
The truth of the matter was that they relied on him, and him alone to raise their social power. They could not move an inch without him, yet they moved as if they could.
Pathetic really. But what could he do, it made things oh, so much easier.
The Su carriage rolled through the city gates, carrying its three passengers toward the palace and the fate Mei Lan believed she could command.
The palace gardens were awash with sunlight, the Flower of Youth Gathering a spectacle of noble sons and daughters displaying their finest talents. Mei Lan entered in a gown of pale green, her hair adorned with pearls, her smile luminous with practiced humility. Lei Ming swept away to speak with the Empress, while Mei Lan was ushered to a shaded pavilion overlooking a lotus pond, where the 1st Prince, Haoran, and his friend Jun Hao—the top scholar—waited. The gathering soon turned into a contest of artistry: calligraphy, poetry, and painting. Each guest was invited to showcase their talents.
Haoran, greeted her with elegant courtesy and smiled, "We meet again Lady Mei Lan, would you honor us with your calligraphy or a poem?"
Mei Lan presented a measured smile in return, her voice soft and appealing. "Your Highness, must we be so formal? Why not simply enjoy the day, drink tea, and savor the scenery?"
Jun Hao smiled blandly as he cut in. "But I've heard so much about your gifts, Lady Mei Lan. I would be remiss if I didn't see them for myself."
Haoran nodded, his eyes glinting with curiosity. Sensing their persistence, Mei Lan glanced over her shoulder and discreetly signaled her maid to go fetch Anming. She forced a light laugh. "Your Highness, Master Jun, surely we should simply enjoy the day. The flowers are beautiful, the tea is fragrant. Why not relax and savor the moment?"
Jun Hao was undeterred. "But Lady Mei Lan, the capital is bursting with admiration for your poetry and calligraphy. Would you not indulge us?"
Mei Lan's mind raced for excuses. "I… I'm afraid I'm far too tired to compose poetry today. The excitement has left me drained…"
"Drained Lady Mei Lan? The day hasn't even started. I've long since admired your work, please. Grace us with your talents."
Mei Lan inwardly scowled at this scholar, why won't he drop the issue. She was running out of excuses and In front of all these guest's if she kept refusing it would be an insult to the prince. A blatant slap to his face. She looked around for a glimpse of her maid hoping she had come back with Anming but all she saw in the crowded scenery was everything but them. Her frustrations grew and her anger began to bubble but she forced her self to swallow it down. She responded as casually as possible, trying to give no hint to her inner turmoil.
"I have nothing to write with Master Jun Hao. No brush or ink or paper. And I find myself too weary today for poetry."
Jun Hao smirked and ever so polite, pressed on, signaling a maid. "No need to worry about supplies, Lady Mei Lan. Here: brush, ink, and paper." The items were laid before her with ceremonial precision.
Haoran's smile remained as he watched the two in front of him play cat and mouse but inside, his patience was thinning and his suspicion began to grow. Why was she avoiding the simplest request? Yesterday, her composure had been remarkable; today, she seemed hesitant, almost evasive. His eyes that brewed with charm studied her more closely. The rumors of "Mei Lan's" talent had reached him, but yesterday's meeting and today's demeanor did not match the legend. He watched her, searching for the spark of genius he'd been promised.
Mei Lan hesitated, it appeared that with Jun Hao here nothing would go her way so she chose a different route, relying on something she was good at: seduction, and directed it toward the Prince.
She stepped closer toward Haoran and leaned in with a gentle, almost flirtatious smile. Positioning her bosom in clear view. "Your Highness, wouldn't you prefer somewhere more private? A pleasant conversation? Or perhaps a stroll by the water? I could tell you stories, if you wish."
Haoran's expression did not change, he was not impressed in the slightest but his smile brightened even more because of it. But under that smile he was growing impatient and felt faintly disgusted.
She tried to seduce him.
This was not the woman who had captivated the court. The rumors, he realized at this point, might be just that: rumors. Mei Lan's attempts at seduction were heavy-handed and desperate, ill-suited to her supposed reputation. His warm gaze turned watchful. This was not the poised, dazzling "Mei Lan" of yesterday's archery contest. Today, she seemed ordinary.... boring even.
Meanwhile, Mei Lan's maid raced through the palace corridors, her footsteps frantic as she made her way to the carriage where Anming waited, calm and composed, lost in his own thoughts. The carriage was cool and shadowed, a quiet contrast to the commotion she brought with her.
She barely paused before reaching in and seizing him by the wrist, her grip tight and her voice cold. "Come at once!" she barked, with no room for refusal. "You're needed—your mistress commands it!" There was no respect in her words, only a sharp, practiced scorn, as if she was ordering around something lowly and far beneath her.
Anming regarded her with a chilling calmness, his gaze meeting her directly as he let her believe she had the upper hand. Then, with effortless strength, he yanked his arm free, swung it back, and slapped her across the face. The sound echoed sharply in the small space.
The maid tumbled to the floor, shock and disbelief etched across her stinging features. She scrambled back up, fury burning in her eyes as she glared at him. "How dare you slap me—!"
Anming's eyes grew colder, and before she could finish, he struck her again, harder this time. His voice was icy and quiet. "A servant who doesn't know their place shouldn't be a servant at all. If you don't know how to act, I'd be happy to teach you."
His words were low, almost gentle, but each syllable was a threat. His revenge would not end with Mei Lan, Lei Ming, or his father. For years, the servants had looked down on him, taken their cues from Lei Ming and Mei Lan, never understanding who truly held their fate. It was time they learned. The rightful master of the Su estate was not Mei Lan, nor Lei Ming, but him.
He looked at her and commanded her to kneel.
The maid was irritated and retorted in defense one hand gripping the side of her dress as the other was clutching her cheek. "Why should I kneel?! I only came to fetch you so you wouldn't ruin the young miss's chance! Why else would I approach such a filthy th—"
Anming's hand flashed out again with a devastating power. The force sent her sprawling into the corner of the carriage, a vivid hand-print rising on her cheek. He moved forward, squatting down to her level with calculated slowness. His fingers gripped her chin in an iron hold, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold and murderous, a predator regarding it's prey.
"Filthy?" His lips curled. "You think you're above me? Listen closely. The mistress who sent you will punish you if you return empty-handed. And you—who can't even ask for help properly—what fate do you think awaits you? When you need something, you beg. You kneel, and you ask the right way. Understand?"
He released her, straightening to his full height, gaze still fixed on her crumpled form. "Well? What will you do?"
Anming knew this would happen again. Mei Lan never learned and that is what made her easy to predict. She just couldn't resist going alone and now look. She ran into trouble again and needed him to fix it for her. When all she had to do was be well behaved and just let him continue to take over. But her pride. Her poor brittle pride just couldn't stand it and because of it the ball once again, was in his court.
Rage and humiliation warred in the maid's face, but she swallowed her pride, knowing she could not return empty-handed. "Young master, this servant knows her mistake," she muttered, bowing her head. "I shouldn't have offended you."
"Try again." Anming chuckled, the sound low and filled with amusement. This maid's pride was remarkable even. She had a lot of it, an amount that should've never belonged to her in the first place. He nodded toward the floor. "This time with sincerity."
The maid's hands trembled as she bent lower, knees pressing to the floor, her forehead touching the wood at his feet. "Please, young master," she whispered, her voice thick with forced humility. "Forgive this servant's insolence. Will you please come with me to help my mistress? The young miss needs you."
Anming stepped past her, pausing at the carriage door. In the polished glass, he caught her glare and allowed himself a quiet, inward smile.
How foolish.
The instant he became Mei Lan's stand-in, the fate of the Su manor was automatically sealed. Lei Ming's greatest mistake was keeping him alive.
He carefully smoothed his robe, lifted his chin, and headed for the palace, determined that the Prince's interest in "Mei Lan" would not slip away so easily.