Before Yulan could even formulate a plan, the heavy wooden doors of the chamber were shoved open with a sharp, echoing BANG!
First Concubine Lady Chen marched into the room, her dark silk robes rustling furiously. Behind her trailed four senior maids, two carrying trays of hot hangover broth and cold towels, while the other two held heavy wooden washing basins.
When Lady Chen’s sharp eyes took in the state of the room, the torn sheets, the shattered wine cups on the rug, and her son lying passed out on the bed, her face instantly contorted with anger.
"Look at this disgraceful mess!" Lady Chen barked, her harsh voice cutting through the quiet morning air.
She stepped over a broken porcelain saucer, her cold gaze sweeping over Yulan. She took in Yulan’s smudged makeup, her disheveled hair, and her torn collar, before her eyes landed directly on the heavy bronze incense burner sitting on the vanity table and the subtle dark smudge on her son’s temple.
Lady Chen’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
"An Yulan!" Lady Chen hissed, stepping right up to the dressing table. "You skipped morning tea with the Old Madame, humiliated my branch, and left my son sleeping like a corpse while you sit here crying into a mirror!"
Yulan’s hands clenched into tight fists, her pride flaring up despite her fear. "Mother! Second Young Master came into this room dead drunk last night! He was wild and uncouth! He—"
"Silence!" Lady Chen snapped, slamming her silk fan down onto the wooden table with a sharp crack. "He is your husband! A proper wife accommodates her husband’s desires without complaint, no matter what state he is in! Instead, you acted like a dramatic street performer, threw a fit, and dared to lay a hand on the Eldest Son of my court!"
Yulan gasped, her pale face turning bright red with humiliation. "I was protecting my dignity! A noble gentleman should know restraint!"
Lady Chen let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Dignity? You are in the Bai Manor now, not your father’s little house! You think you are still the precious, high-and-mighty legitimate daughter?"
Lady Chen leaned in close, her voice dropping into a cruel, venomous whisper. "While you were hiding in this room knocking my son unconscious, your illegitimate sister, An Yimei, stood in the main hall before the Old Madame! She exposed Second Aunt’s theft, reclaimed twenty piculs of coal, fifty silver taels, six senior maids, and won the Old Madame’s praise without spending a single copper coin of her own!"
Yulan froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind reeled in absolute shock and disbelief.
Yimei... won Old Madame’s favor? Reclaimed silver and coal? Without spending her dowry?!
"That is impossible!" Yulan cried out, her voice trembling violently. "She is married to a useless cripple who locked her out in the freezing cold all night!"
"The cripple’s courtyard is currently filled with high-grade coal, brand-new lanterns, and loyal guards!" Lady Chen sneered, pointing a long, sharp finger directly at Yulan’s face. "Meanwhile, my son’s room looks like a pigsty, and his bride is a delicate, useless doll who cannot even serve a cup of morning tea!"
Lady Chen turned toward her four senior maids, her expression cold and unyielding.
"Wash the Second Young Master’s face with cold water and wake him up!" Lady Chen commanded strictly. "And as for you, Yulan—you will clean this entire room with your own hands before noon. If I hear another word about your precious ’dignity,’ I will have the headmaids teach you the household rules myself!"
Lady Chen swept out of the room, leaving the door wide open in the cold morning wind.
Yulan stood frozen beside her vanity, her fingernails digging so deeply into her palms that they nearly drew blood. Tears of pure, burning jealousy and bitter rage spilled over her cheeks, smudging her lipstick even further.
In her past life, Yimei was supposed to be the miserable, abused wife of a drunkard! Yimei was supposed to be the one crying in a dusty room while Yulan lived a life of luxury and honor!
An Yulan stood by the open door, watching the cold water splash over her husband’s face.
Her mind traveled back to her past life.
In her past life, Yulan was the one who married the crippled Bai Zhengyu. Back then, she spent all her gold and silver trying to make that cold Northern Courtyard comfortable. She used up all her money on warm coal and extra helpers, but Zhengyu never wanted to see her. He locked his doors, ignored her, and never touched her.
She remembered how Yimei had walked out of this room Wenliang’s room on her wedding morning in that past life. Back then, Yimei looked completely fine. Her red clothes were neat, her hair was tidy, and her face had no marks. She did not look like someone who had just survived a violent, drunken night with Wenliang.
Back then, Yulan had assumed Wenliang was gentle. But now that Yulan had suffered his wild, drunken behavior herself, she knew the truth. Wenliang was a brute when he drank.
How did Yimei deal with his madness?! Yulan yelled in her mind. How did she handle him without getting a single scratch? Did she trick him? Was Yimei just much smarter than me all along?
"Ugh... my head hurts..."
A low, ugly groan broke Yulan’s thoughts.
On the bed, Bai Wenliang started to wake up. He blinked his red, watery eyes as cold water dripped down his nose. He reached up with a heavy hand, touching the big, painful bump on his head where Yulan had hit him with the bronze statue.
Slowly, his angry, drunk eyes moved across the room and locked right onto Yulan.
Yulan’s heart beat fast in fear. She backed up against her table, shaking as she waited for him to blow up in anger.
Bai Wenliang sat up slowly on the bed, rubbing the big, throbbing bump on his head. His mouth tasted like sour wine, and his skull felt like it was splitting open.
When he looked at his fingers, he saw a tiny smear of dry blood. His bloodshot eyes narrowed as he glared right at Yulan.
"You..." Wenliang growled, his voice rough. "You hit me last night."
Yulan backed up until her lower back slammed against the edge of her dressing table. She gripped the wood tightly, her knees shaking under her clothes.
"You were drunk, Second Young Master!" Yulan said quickly, trying to sound brave. "You came into the room screaming and wild. You were going to hurt me! I... I only tried to stop you!"
Wenliang let out a ugly, mean laugh. He swung his legs off the bed, his boots hitting the floor with a loud thud.
"Stop me?" Wenliang sneered, taking a slow step toward her. "You knocked your own husband out on our first night with a bronze statue! Do you know what happens to a wife who hits her husband? If the Old Madame finds out, she will lock you away for being a bad, violent wife!"
Yulan’s breath stopped in her throat. She knew he was telling the truth. In a noble house, a wife hitting her husband was a huge crime.
Wenliang stopped right in front of her. He leaned down, his sour, wine-smelling breath hitting her face.
"You brought nothing useful to this marriage," Wenliang mocked, looking down at her meanly. "Your father gave you a trash dowry full of cheap, useless things! You have no money and no power here."
He reached out his big, heavy hand and pinched her chin tight, pulling her face up.
"You are my wife now, An Yulan," Wenliang said, his voice cold. "You have no money to save yourself. Your life here depends completely on me. If I treat you well, you are a young lady. If I ignore you, you are nothing."
Yulan tried to pull away, but his fingers held her face like iron.
"Let go..." she whispered.
"Clean this mess," Wenliang ordered, shoving her chin away so hard her head snapped back. "Fix the bed, sweep the floor, and get me clean water. If my head still hurts later, I will make sure you regret hitting me."
He turned away and walked to the tea table to drink cold water.
Yulan stood by the table, her whole body shaking with rage and fear. She looked down at her messy clothes, then at the dirty floor.