"Miss, there are no outside visitors in the residence today. Only the First Madam is present in Mingzhao Hall."
"From Xihe Courtyard to Mingzhao Hall, one must pass through a garden and two covered walkways. I have walked the route thrice, and everything remains unchanged—no suspicious figures lingering about."
"The flowers in the garden are as they were yesterday, with no rare or unfamiliar blooms. The grass has been swept twice, and snake-repelling powder has been sprinkled along the path."
"The weather today is clear, with a gentle breeze—no signs of rain or gloom."
Four maids, clad in azure garments, reported in succession.
Seated before the mirror, the young lady listened in silence, meticulously eliminating a hundred possible threats, ensuring all was in order.
Only after three rounds of contemplation did her vermilion lips part:
"Let us depart. It is time to pay my respects to Mother."
The maids lifted the layers of brocade beaded curtains, and Ning Wanyin rose gracefully, stepping forward.
She was adorned in a waist-cinched, pale-yellow Sichuan-embroidered gown, floral patterns dancing along the fabric. Her slender frame moved with measured poise, every step embodying an unassailable elegance.
Her features were exquisitely delicate—bright eyes, pearly teeth, a gaze that shimmered with brilliance. She was like the dawn's first glow upon the horizon, like a lotus emerging untainted from crystalline waters.
At once, the household servants assembled into a grand procession.
Eight third-rank servant women led the way, clearing the path ahead. Four second-rank maids kept close to Ning Wanyin's side, while her head maid, Lianrui, followed closely behind, holding a cloak. Another set of four maids and eight servants remained stationed at her courtyard.
As the legitimate eldest daughter of the Shou'an Marquis Manor, Ning Wanyin was notoriously difficult to serve. Within the household, she had gained a reputation for her exacting standards.
Even a simple trip—a mere fifteen-minute walk from her courtyard to her mother's residence—was accompanied by an imposing entourage.
Yet to Ning Wanyin, such arrangements were not ostentation, but necessity.
A single poisonous flower in the garden, a venomous snake lurking in the grass, an unforeseen encounter with an unfamiliar man at the corner of a hallway—any of these could spell the ruin of a noblewoman.
How could she afford anything less than the utmost caution if she wished for a long and secure life?
The journey to Mingzhao Hall was uneventful.
Seated at the head of the hall was a dignified and graceful lady, though a trace of unspoken worry lingered between her brows.
Ning Wanyin stepped forward and curtsied. "Mother, I greet you."
"Come, sit by my side." Madam Cheng beckoned to her, suppressing her unease as she mustered a faint smile.
"We have yet to receive the imperial decree from the palace today."
This was the first imperial selection for the inner court since the new emperor ascended the throne. According to the customs of the Dayan Dynasty, the final round of selection would not be announced immediately. Instead, after seven days, envoys would be sent to the chosen ladies' residences to deliver the decree.
"You hold admiration for His Majesty, and for three years, you have devoted yourself to mastering the arts he favors—painting, chess, calligraphy. Your efforts have been painstaking." Madam Cheng sighed, her eyes filled with unmasked worry. "All I hope for is that your efforts are not in vain."
Ning Wanyin did not explain.
Admiration?
She simply refused to meet the same fate as her cousin.
Her cousin, daughter of her paternal uncle, had once been betrothed to the son of the Minister of Rites—a match that should have been ideal.
Yet, when the Minister of Rites took the wrong side in the struggle for the imperial succession, he was imprisoned amid the ensuing political purge. The men of his family were exiled, while the women were sent to the Courtesan Bureau.
A noblewoman of high birth could never be subjected to such disgrace.
On the day their home was ransacked, her cousin took her own life, preserving her name in death.
As the daughter of a meritorious noble house, Ning Wanyin's fate was set—she would one day marry into a family of equal standing.
Her life was never her own to decide.
Her husband, his family, his uncles and brothers—should any of them misstep, she too would be dragged into the abyss.
After much deliberation, she realized—rather than gambling on whether her future husband's family would offend the emperor and bring disaster upon her, it was better to seize control of her own fate.
Life and death, honor and disgrace—at the very least, they would be hers to dictate.
Not a passive existence in a courtyard, forever awaiting misfortune's arrival.
For a century, the Shou'an Marquis Manor had waned in influence. Their sole ambition now was to send a daughter into the palace, securing imperial favor to restore their standing.
Ning Wanyin had taken the initiative to suggest entering the selection, and her mother had readily agreed.
For three years, Madam Cheng had watched her daughter's relentless efforts, mistaking them for devotion to the young emperor.
Ning Wanyin offered a quiet reassurance. "Mother, ease your worries. If I am not chosen, then I will make other plans."
In this world, not everything unfolds as one desires.
Even after giving one's all, fate must still lend its blessing.
If she were not selected, she would simply find a husband with fewer risks attached.
"You will be chosen! Do not utter such ominous words!" Madam Cheng swiftly cut her off.
As mother and daughter conversed, the stewardess, Madam Zhou, entered and announced, "The young mistress from the Tang family has arrived."
Madam Cheng's willow-shaped brows twitched ever so slightly before she said, "Invite Miaoling in."
Tang Miaoling.
A daughter of the Tang family, of the Changping Marquisate, and Ning Wanyin's cousin.
The Tang family had long been stationed in the Northwest. She had traveled thousands of miles to the capital solely for the selection.
Though the Tang residence maintained an estate in the capital, the Ning family's matriarch, eager to curry favor, had invited her to stay at the Marquis Manor instead.
Tang Miaoling was arrogant and domineering. Since arriving, she had treated the Ning household as her personal servants, taking whatever she pleased, commanding as she wished.
Perhaps because Ning Wanyin's father served under her own, she regarded the entire Ning family as beneath her.
Just recently, she had taken a liking to a silk-embroidered round fan in Madam Cheng's chamber and had all but forced her to "gift" it.
That fan had been a birthday present, painstakingly embroidered by Madam Cheng over three months, stitch by stitch beneath the lamplight.
What's more, as Ning Wanyin was also participating in this year's selection, Tang Miaoling had made no effort to hide her hostility—sarcasm and mockery were her daily greetings.
Madam Cheng had little fondness for her niece.
Yet with her husband stationed in the Northwest military, his fate bound to the Changping Marquis, they could not afford to offend her. Forced politeness was all she could offer.
A young woman clad in a sapphire-blue robe, embroidered with golden magpies perched upon branches, entered the hall.
Unlike her usual haughtiness, Tang Miaoling bowed courteously. "Greetings, Aunt."
Madam Cheng was briefly taken aback by this uncharacteristic display of manners but quickly recovered, offering a warm smile. "Come, be seated. Madam Zhou, serve the tea."
But Tang Miaoling did not rise. Instead, she carefully weighed her words.
"A few days ago, I borrowed Aunt's embroidered fan, as I found it particularly exquisite. Today, I have come to return it."
Her maid immediately presented a brocade box.
Inside lay the fan, untouched and pristine.
Madam Cheng hesitated, uncertain of her intent. "If you like it, you may keep it."
Tang Miaoling grew anxious. "I merely borrowed it to admire! This was meant as a birthday gift for my cousin—how could I take it from her?"
Silence fell over the room.
Yet when you took it, did you not already know it was meant for her?
Ning Wanyin's gaze settled on Tang Miaoling, her autumn-water eyes dark and unfathomable.
Her cousin… was behaving rather strangely.
Sensing Ning Wanyin's scrutiny, Tang Miaoling stiffened, as if she had stumbled upon a lone wolf in the forest. A cold sweat broke out across her back.
She forced a smile, though her hands were damp with unease.
"Cousin, you look truly beautiful today."
Ning Wanyin returned the smile, though inwardly, her suspicions only deepened.
Tang Miaoling had changed.