The rain had stopped, leaving behind a courtyard full of mud and a damp, bone-chilling cold.
Water continued to drip steadily from the eaves of the Side Courtyard, the endless patter sounding like an hourglass that never ran out, silently counting the years that had been forgotten.
Qin Shu sat in the creaking wooden chair beneath the window, her back perfectly straight as her eyes rested on the open copy of Supplement to Materia Medica.
The pages had yellowed and curled with age.
Her fingertips traced the cold inked words.
“Aconite Root. Pungent and sweet in flavor. Extremely hot in nature. Highly poisonous… Restores depleted yang, rescues against collapse, dispels cold, relieves pain…”
The silent humiliation she had endured in the study earlier that day and Xu Feng’s cold, scrutinizing gaze were like the poison of aconite root.
They had seeped soundlessly into every corner of her body, leaving behind a heavy numbness.
Floating Cloud entered carrying a chipped earthenware bowl.
Inside were a few blackened pieces of pickled vegetables and rice porridge so thin it could reflect a person’s face.
Even the rising steam was almost invisible.
She gently placed the bowl beside Qin Shu before silently picking up an old rag from the corner of the table.
With forceful strokes, she scrubbed at the dark water stains left by the previous night’s rain.
Every movement was filled with restrained anger.
“It won’t come off.”
Qin Shu never looked up from the book.
Her voice was as calm as the frozen surface of a lake.
Floating Cloud’s hand froze.
Her knuckles had already turned white from gripping the rag so tightly.
She looked at Qin Shu’s profile, so pale it was almost transparent.
Her lips parted slightly.
In the end, she silently tossed the rag aside and crouched down to gather the scattered pieces of firewood lying in the corner.
Even enough firewood to keep warm had become a luxury in the Side Courtyard.
The room resembled an enormous ice cellar, constantly draining away the last bit of warmth from anyone inside.
Qin Shu picked up the bowl.
The porcelain felt icy against her palms.
She took small sips of the porridge that contained almost no grains of rice.
The bitterness of the pickled vegetables spread across the back of her tongue.
Her stomach churned with its familiar emptiness.
Five years.
More than eighteen hundred days and nights.
The meals had gone from barely edible…
To difficult to swallow…
Until now, when she no longer felt anything at all.
The old woman who delivered the food always dropped the food box heavily onto the stone steps outside the courtyard gate as though feeding a stray dog.
Sometimes the food had already spoiled.
Sometimes it was ice cold.
Sometimes there was only half a bowl.
They had all grown used to it.
Just as they had grown used to the endless cold and silence imprisoned within these walls.
The greasy stain on the sleeve of Qin Shu’s grayish-blue jacket had darkened.
It was the only outfit she owned that was fit to wear outside.
In the old camphorwood chest in the corner, whose warped lid barely closed anymore, lay several even shabbier garments.
The collars and cuffs had worn threadbare.
Every piece had faded nearly white from endless washing.
Patch upon patch covered the fabric.
She owned no cosmetics.
No jewelry.
The only bronze mirror in the room had become so tarnished that it reflected nothing more than a pale, gaunt shadow with empty eyes.
Her hair was carelessly secured with a single wooden hairpin worn smooth by years of use.
Loose strands concealed the fine lines of exhaustion that had appeared between her brows far too early.
Floating Cloud was her only source of light.
The only living thing inside this prison.
The young maid’s delicate face had also become stained by the bleakness of the courtyard.
Yet her eyes remained clear.
Filled with stubborn determination.
She handled every chore herself.
Washing the few old garments that could never truly become clean.
Drawing water from the freezing well.
Trying to warm the perpetually lukewarm meals over the crude earthen stove built against the drafty wall.
Sleeping curled upon the tiny couch each night, constantly alert for the slightest disturbance.
Qin Shu had once tried to persuade her to leave.
To find work with a decent family.
Floating Cloud had simply shaken her head with tear-filled eyes.
“Wherever Young Miss is, that’s where Floating Cloud will be.”
“My parents…”
“They were killed by soldiers under the Xu family.”
Hatred had taken root deep within the young girl’s heart.
It had grown intertwined with her loyalty toward Qin Shu.
The sun struggled across the gray sky.
A few pale beams of light fell through the broken window lattice before quickly fading once more.
Evening descended.
The cold grew heavier.
Footsteps echoed outside the courtyard gate.
These were different from those of the old woman who delivered meals.
They were light.
Arrogant.
Deliberately self-important.
Then came the harsh scrape of a key sliding into the rusty lock.
The gate to the Side Courtyard was always locked from the outside.
The door opened just a crack.
A young maid dressed in a brand-new silk-padded jacket leaned halfway inside.
Her glossy hair was styled immaculately.
It was Cui Xi, one of Qin Yan’s second-rank maids.
She immediately covered her nose with a handkerchief, as though the courtyard were filled not with damp mildew but with deadly poison.
Her eyes swept over the dilapidated courtyard before landing upon Qin Shu and Floating Cloud standing outside the room.
The corners of her mouth curled downward with unconcealed disdain.
“Oh? Madam is still here?”
Her shrill voice grated against the ears like fingernails scraping glass.
“Our Fourth Concubine is kindhearted. She thought Elder Sister must be having a difficult time living in such a remote place, so she specially sent this servant to bring you a few good things to celebrate with you.”
“So you can share in Fourth Concubine’s joy after entering the mansion.”
She deliberately emphasized the words Fourth Concubine.
With that, she beckoned behind her.
A sturdily built old servant woman stepped inside carrying a heavy food box covered with a red cloth.
She set it down heavily upon the damp stone steps, splashing muddy water everywhere.
Her expression was equally disgusted.
The moment she finished, she retreated behind Cui Xi.
Cui Xi lifted the red cloth.
A rich aroma burst forth immediately.
The greasy scent of braised meat mixed with the sweetness of expensive pastries, forcefully driving away the musty smell of the courtyard.
Inside the food box sat several exquisite dishes.
A large bowl of glossy braised pork belly, each slice neatly arranged.
A plate of crystal shrimp dumplings, translucent and delicate.
A plate of jujube paste cakes dusted generously with powdered sugar.
There was even a small pot of warmed wine.
For stomachs accustomed only to watery porridge and pickled vegetables…
The aroma itself was the cruelest form of torture.
Floating Cloud’s stomach growled involuntarily.
She immediately lowered her head in embarrassment, biting her lip hard.
Watching their reactions, Cui Xi lifted her chin proudly.
“Fourth Concubine said the braised pork was personally rewarded by the Governor last night. It’s made from the finest pork belly—rich without being greasy!”
“The shrimp dumplings were made with fresh imported shrimp from the foreign trading house!”
“The jujube cakes were specially prepared by the master pastry chef from Daoxiangzhai.”
“Even the Governor praised them!”
“Fourth Concubine treasures the affection between sisters. She couldn’t bear to eat much herself before insisting they be brought here so Elder Sister could have a taste.”
Every sentence she spoke…
Every mention of rewarded by the Governor…
Praised by the Governor…
Was another poisoned needle stabbing into Qin Shu.
“Oh, that’s right.”
As though suddenly remembering something, Cui Xi clapped her hands dramatically.
She pulled a tiny old embroidered pouch tied with a red cord from her sleeve and casually tossed it beside the food box.
“I nearly forgot this.”
“Fourth Concubine also said that seeing how you’re dressed…”
“It really doesn’t look appropriate.”
“This pouch is something Fourth Concubine grew tired of long ago.”
“There are a few copper coins inside.”
“Take them and buy yourself some needles and thread.”
“Patch up your clothes.”
“So you won’t embarrass the Governor’s Mansion the next time you go outside.”
Covering her mouth with her handkerchief, she let out a string of crisp, bell-like laughter.
Cold.
Mocking.
Humiliation.
Wrapped in luxury.
What had been delivered was not food.
It was Qin Yan’s triumph.
Xu Feng’s favor.
Proof that Qin Shu’s status was beneath even that of a dog.
The rich aroma of the braised pork now smelled like rotting flesh.
The delicate pastries were so sweet they became nauseating.
As for the old pouch and those few copper coins…
They ground what little remained of her dignity into the mud.
Floating Cloud trembled with fury.
Her eyes turned crimson.
Like an enraged young beast, she lunged forward.
“You—”
“Floating Cloud.”
Qin Shu’s voice was quiet.
Yet it struck like a wall of ice, stopping her instantly.
She stood motionless.
Her face was even paler than the remnants of snow scattered across the ground.
She did not look at the food box.
Nor at the insulting little pouch.
Instead, her eyes rested upon Cui Xi’s face, painted with cheap rouge and overflowing with smug malice.
For no reason she could explain, Cui Xi suddenly felt uneasy.
That gaze…
It was far too calm.
Not the expression of someone looking at another person.
More like someone examining a corpse.
She forced herself to lift her chin higher.
“The gifts have been delivered.”
“This servant will take her leave.”
“Madam…”
“Please…”
“Enjoy them…”
“Slowly.”
She deliberately drew out every syllable.
Then, dragging the old servant woman with her, she hurried out of the courtyard as though fleeing from a plague.
The heavy gate slammed shut.
The lock clicked firmly into place.
The rich scent of meat lingered in the freezing air.
It had become almost suffocating.
Unable to endure it any longer, tears burst from Floating Cloud’s eyes.
She rushed to the food box.
Lifting her foot, she prepared to kick the entire pile of humiliating “gifts” onto the ground.
“I’ll throw it all away!”
“I’d rather feed it to stray dogs than let them insult us like this!”
“Don’t.”
Qin Shu spoke again.
Her voice remained calm.
Yet it carried unquestionable authority.
Floating Cloud froze, one foot still suspended in midair.
She turned around in confusion.
“Young Miss?”
Qin Shu slowly rose.
Walking to the food box, she crouched down.
The glossy braised pork gleamed beneath the fading evening light.
Several pieces of fat had already hardened, their edges coated in a layer of congealed white grease.
She reached out.
Not to pick up the dish.
Instead…
She gently poked the largest piece of pork, the one containing the thickest layer of fat.
It was cold.
Greasy.
“Throw it away?”
Qin Shu’s voice was as soft as a sigh.
Yet her eyes remained fixed upon that greasy piece of meat.
Deep within them…
The ghostly flame that had been suppressed beneath days of humiliation and endless cold suddenly flickered violently.
A glint of poison flashed within its icy light.
“Wouldn’t that…”
“…waste my dear sister’s heartfelt kindness?”
She withdrew her finger.
A smear of hardened grease clung to her fingertip.
She made no attempt to wipe it away.
Instead, she let the cold, oily residue remain there.
Then she picked up the heavy bowl of braised pork, now cold and coated with solidified fat.
Turning around, she walked back into the room one slow step at a time.
Her footsteps pressed shallow prints into the cold, muddy ground.