CHAPTER THREE
T he gray roof tiles and the weathered wooden walls of my house loom in the distance, a heaviness descending over me, my pulse skittering. When had it become this way, the sight of home evoking dread rather than relief ?
“Yining! You’re late.” Mistress Henglan’s voice jolts me, the impatience and lack of concern.
“It was hard to escape—”
“You got careless,” she snaps. “Now we must stay away from the markets, our only source of money.”
It was her greed that caused this, she’d abandoned me to the soldiers. But I swallow my anger, holding out the pears I harvested. “I found these on the way back. The trees by the old pond are finally bearing fruit.”
“Pears?” she sneers. “What good are these when the money is gone?”
My stomach caves; her losses at dice were worse than expected. “There are plenty more; we can sell them,” I say quickly.
She picks up a pear, holding it to her nose.
As she inhales its fragrance, a smile breaks across her face, yielding a glimpse of how striking she used to be.
The harshness of life here strips one’s beauty as easily as the peel from a mandarin.
When my uncle first introduced us, I’d wanted to like her.
She folded me into a hard embrace, promising we’d be as family.
It didn’t take long after the wedding for her smiles to fade, her voice to harden—the final remnants of her mask discarded long before my uncle’s body had gone cold.
I remember clinging to his stiff hand at his funeral.
As I wept, Mistress Henglan declared to the other mourners that my uncle had left her our home, and she was now my sole guardian.
I tried to protest, but she struck my face, a stinging slap that left my cheek burning.
The shock was like falling into a river and forgetting how to swim, flailing, as the water drags you deeper.
The villagers all averted their eyes, many whispering this was “a family matter.”
That was the moment I realized I was alone in the world, and my tears no longer mattered.
I should have fought harder to make the others listen, shamed them into intervening.
Because I gave up, my step-aunt won. I won’t so easily relinquish the fight for myself again—sometimes there’s no way back.
It took years to claw this glimpse of freedom away from her, this chance at a new life… one I won’t surrender.
Mistress Henglan takes a bite of the pear, chewing noisily. “You should start preparing dinner.”
Though I’m tired, I nod, following her into the house. I wash the rice, then cook it over the fire. While it simmers, I slice a handful of long beans and fry them with a beaten egg. As I lay the bowls on the table, a yellow brocade scroll catches my eye.
“What’s this?” I ask curiously.
She sits down, helping herself to the food. “An announcement from the palace.”
My heart beats a little quicker. The Palace of Nine Hills is the royal residence, named for the mountains that ring it.
I often climbed a tree to stare at the sprawling grounds in the distance—imagining how perfect life must be there, a fairy tale, for those within its shining walls.
They say Prince Zixin is handsome and brave, a hero from the stories—though all I’ve seen of him is his portrait that hangs in each village hall, along with his sister’s and late father’s.
I’ve looked at them so often, they feel almost real to me.
There is something about the darkness of the prince’s eyes, the curve of his lips that makes me believe he’s kind, clever, and interesting—even as my mind whispers that this is shallow and undeserved, and I should know better.
As I reach for the scroll, my step-aunt’s fingers close around it. “What does it say?” The catch in my voice spoils my attempt at indifference.
Mistress Henglan flicks the scroll apart, revealing the royal stamp in red ink. “Prince Zixin is hosting a ball the day after tomorrow, a grand celebration.”
“A ball?” I sit straighter, excitement surging through me. “Are they in need of additional servants?”
“It’s an invitation to attend as a guest. The market was afire with gossip of this today. Apparently, this was sent to everyone in the kingdom. Ours arrived late, one of the last.”
A miracle that the messengers even found our remote home. To send one to every subject would be an impossible feat—the numerous villages scattered around the mountains, the towns thronging with people. Impossible, except for the one who controls the might of the army.
Mistress Henglan tucks the scroll into her sash.
“You have the same silly expression every girl had on hearing the news. I thought you were smarter. Many will spend a month’s wages on a useless dress to meet an even more useless prince.
” Her lip curls. “Far better to give us silver to celebrate his reign.”
“It will be a shame to miss it. There will be many rich guests wearing their finest clothes and jewelry. Fat purses, rich pickings.” I’m trying to rouse her greed.
If she knows how much I want to go, she’ll never let me.
A ball in the palace… it feels like a dream.
A chance to live in color, rather than lurking in the shadows.
“Whatever it is, you can’t go,” she snaps. “After today, the soldiers will be searching for you.”
“I was in disguise,” I protest.
Her eyes gleam; she relishes denying me this. “I will go. You are right about the pickings. Shorten my red robe an inch to hide the frayed hem. I’ll need new shoes. Find something else to sell.”
Anger sears, a hot coal in my chest. I clasp my hands to stop them from fisting.
“Don’t look at me that way.” Her eyes pinch, lines forming at the corners. “Without me, you’d have starved or been sent to the mines long ago.”
The wiser part of me urges silence to preserve our fragile peace. I force myself to nod, but it’s becoming harder to fold myself to fit her moods, to squeeze into the mold she expects of me.
She points at the basket of pears. “Take these to Farmer Lan tomorrow morning and get the best price you can. Don’t be distracted by his son.” Mistress Henglan’s mouth slides into a cunning smile. “Someone like him won’t even look twice at you. And if he does, he’ll only want one thing.”
“Maybe I only want one thing from him too.”
It slips out before I catch myself, her words stinging. I hate how she pushes me down, making me feel small. But as her eyes narrow, I drop my head, biting my tongue so hard I taste blood, feeling like I’m burning up inside.