As An Yimei and Qinqin made their way toward the main gates, snow crunched softly under their boots.
Back in the Northern Courtyard, the heavy wooden doors of the main chamber were slightly ajar. Guard Feng stepped quietly into the room, holding a tray with a steaming porcelain cup of tea. He placed it on the small table beside Bai Zhengyu, who sat in his wheelchair looking out toward the courtyard.
"Young Master," Feng said in a low voice. "Young Madame and her maid are leaving the estate."
Zhengyu reached out, his long fingers picking up the cup. He blew softly on the hot liquid and took a quiet, slow sip. His pale face remained unreadable, his dark eyes staring out into the snow-covered yard where Yimei had been sitting the night before.
"Where is she going?" Zhengyu asked, his voice low and cool.
"She did not say, Young Master, but she carries her accounting papers," Feng replied.
Zhengyu set the teacup down with a quiet clack. "Send someone to follow them. Do not let her notice. I want to know where she goes, who she meets, and what business she is running outside this estate."
"Understood," Feng bowed, stepping back into the shadows.
Meanwhile, near the grand front gates of the Bai Manor, Yimei smoothed her fur-trimmed sleeves, ready to step out into the city streets.
Before she could take another step, three figures turned the corner of the long stone corridor, blocking her path.
Leading the group was An Yulan. She wore a bright red winter dress, but even the thick powder on her face could not completely hide the tired, dark circles under her eyes, or the smudged makeup she had tried so hard to fix.
Walking right beside Yulan were two young ladies wrapped in fine silk cloaks: Bai Wangyu and Bai Shishi. They were Bai Wenliang’s younger sisters, well-known throughout the manor for their sharp tongues and spoiled behavior.
Yulan stopped directly in front of Yimei, a fake, cold smile spreading across her lips.
"Aiya, sister," Yulan said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Where are you rushing off to so early in the morning? You have only been married for one day, yet you are already sneaking out the main gate?"
Bai Wangyu sneered, looking Yimei up and down with disgust. "Sister-in-Law Yulan is right. Proper noble wives stay inside their courtyards to serve their mothers-in-law and take care of their husbands. Eldest Sister-in-Law, are you going out because Eldest Brother’s room is too dark and cold for you?"
Bai Shishi giggled behind her silk handkerchief. "Or maybe she is going out because Eldest Brother won’t even look at her! I heard she slept outside on the bench again last night!"
Qinqin’s hands clenched tight into fists beside Yimei, her face flushing with anger at their mean words.
Yimei, however, did not flinch. She stood tall, her posture straight, and looked at the three of them with a calm, freezing gaze.
"Third Sister, Fourth Sister," Yimei spoke smoothly, her voice clear and untroubled. "And Second Sister-in-Law. I am leaving the estate on official business with Old Madame’s full permission. If you have questions about my freedom, you are welcome to walk to the main hall and ask Grandmother yourselves."
Yulan’s fake smile faltered instantly, her hands tightening inside her sleeves. Hearing Old Madame’s name brought back the bitter shame of missing yesterday’s breakfast.
"Do not use Old Madame to hide your lack of manners, Yimei!" Yulan hissed, taking a step closer. "You think you are so grand just because you managed to clean a courtyard! You are going out to waste your time, while my husband—"
"Your husband is currently sleeping off last night’s wine with a bruised head, isn’t he?" Yimei cut in softly, her dark eyes locking straight onto Yulan’s pale face.
Yulan froze, her breath catching in her throat, her face turning bright red with humiliation and shock.
Bai Wangyu and Bai Shishi looked between them in surprise, unsure of what Yimei meant.
Yimei took one smooth step forward, brushing past Yulan’s shoulder without giving her another glance.
"I have real business to attend to," Yimei said coolly over her shoulder. "I suggest you return to your court and tend to your own household before Second Aunt comes looking for you again."
Yulan’s eyes turned red with rage. Fueled by humiliation, she reached out and grabbed Yimei’s sleeve with violent force!
RIP!
The sharp sound of tearing silk echoed loudly near the front gates. The fine blue wool and white fur lining of Yimei’s cloak ripped right along the shoulder seam, exposing the plain inner fabric underneath.
"Miss!" Qinqin gasped in horror, her hands flying to her mouth. "Those clothes are very expensive! How could you tear them?!"
Yulan sneered, holding the torn piece of cloth in her tight grip. She looked down at Yimei with pure disdain, her voice rising into a sharp, ugly shriek.
"Wearing the clothes that belong to me, you even dare to leave while I am still talking?!" Yulan screamed, her face contorted in anger. "Have you forgotten your manners, An Yimei?! Just because you are married to that cripple, you think you can walk over me?!"
The word cripple hit the cold morning air like a strike of thunder.
Nearby, the four courtyard guards standing at the gate froze. Their jaws dropped, and they exchanged wide-eyed, terrified looks. The senior maids carrying laundry baskets nearby stopped dead in their tracks, holding their breath in absolute shock. Calling the Eldest Son a cripple right at the main entrance was a massive breach of household rules.
Yimei stopped in her tracks. Her eyes turned completely pitch-black, dropping all trace of calm composure.
In a flash, Yimei turned on her heel, stepped close, and raised her hand high!
PA!
A loud, violent slap echoed off the high stone walls of the main gate!
The force of the strike was so strong that Yulan’s head snapped violently to the side. She stumbled backward onto the snow-covered ground, her hand flying to her left cheek. A bright red handprint immediately bloomed on her pale skin, and a tiny line of blood leaked from the corner of her lip.
Bai Wangyu and Bai Shishi shrieked in absolute terror, jumping backward into the snowdrifts.
The surrounding guards and maids stood completely paralyzed, staring at Yimei with wide, frightened eyes. None of them dared to make a single sound or even step forward to help Yulan.
Yimei stood towering over Yulan, her fur cloak fluttering in the cold wind, her eyes blazing with a lethal, terrifying intensity.
"Say that word again," Yimei said, her voice dropping into a low, chilling whisper that made every servant present shudder. "Call my husband a cripple one more time, Yulan, and I will not just slap your face—I will drag you to the ancestral hall and break your knees myself."
Yulan sat in the freezing snow, gasping for breath, clutching her burning cheek in absolute shock. She looked up at Yimei’s dark, fearless face, so terrified that she could not even squeeze out a single tear.
Yimei adjusted her torn sleeve with complete calm, turned her back on the trembling women and the breathless crowd of servants, and stepped smoothly out through the main gates into the bustling city streets.