The inner courtyard of the Yuan residence was unnervingly still. Stone paths stretched between bare winter shrubs, a faint chill drifting through the air. Not a single attendant lingered nearby for long—everyone seemed eager to avoid being associated with the two new arrivals until Madam Li herself delivered judgment.
Wan Li sat on the narrow bench with her knees pressed together, back perfectly straight, hands folded on her lap as though she were still inside the imperial palace, not in a stranger's estate. Her eyes stayed lowered, expression pale and distant. Su Yan stood behind her like a silent guard, hands folded, jaw tight.
They had been waiting for some time.
Su Yan watched Wan Li's trembling fingers and felt her heart twist.
Can she survive here?
The thought came unbidden, frighteningly honest.
Wan Li had just survived the catastrophic chaos and explosions. But this? A cold household filled with ambition, resentment, and disdain toward the old dynasty?
Su Yan wasn't sure.
Her gaze softened as she looked at the girl who had been her charge for eight years—since Wan Li was just four and Su Yan ten.
Wan Li only breathed quietly, mechanically, like a bird too fragile to make noise.
And suddenly, memories flooded Su Yan's mind.
Flashback — The Palace of Gathered Elegance
Wan Li had always lived softly.
Even in the palace, her world was small—an inner court without noise, without crowds, without strangers. She clung to Empress Dowager Ruyi's sleeves whenever new maids entered the room. She hid behind curtains whenever palace guards marched past.
Most children were curious.
Wan Li was afraid of everything.
Su Yan had been assigned to her when Wan Li was still a tiny, trembling child. She remembered kneeling to meet the little princess's eyes, offering a sweet cake shaped like a peach.
"It's soft," Su Yan whispered gently. "Like clouds. Would you like it?"
Wan Li hesitated for nearly a full minute before whispering back:
"…thank you."
Her voice was so light, one exhale could scatter it.
After that day, something settled in Su Yan's heart—protectiveness, deep and instinctive.
Lessons for Women
While the child emperor Li Shan learned statecraft, Wan Li learned obedience.
Empress Dowager Ruyi insisted on it.
"You must be virtuous," Empress Dowager Ruyi always said.
"You must be gentle. Cautious. Careful. You must never draw trouble to yourself."
Wan Li absorbed every word like scripture.
She memorized the Four Virtues.
The Three Obediences.
Lessons for Women.
All the classics meant for daughters and wives—not rulers, not leaders, not heirs.
Obedience became the way she breathed.
When spoken to, she bowed.
When corrected, she apologized.
When frightened, she hid her fear and apologized again for troubling her attendants.
Su Yan had once watched Wan Li kneel for half an hour because she accidentally spilled tea during a lesson.
The teacher had already forgiven her.
Wan Li could not forgive herself.
Fear of Strangers
Wan Li's terror of unfamiliar faces never faded.
Whenever eunuchs entered with announcements, she shrank back.
When ministers accompanied Li Shan during ceremonial events, her hands shook.
Once, when a guard spoke too loudly, she burst into tears before she even understood why.
And Li Shan—the child emperor, older than her, already carrying a wary, heavy presence—frightened her the most simply because he held power. Because she did not understand him. Because he was not her mother or her attendant.
Because he was a stranger.
"Princess Wan Li," Su Yan once whispered, "he is your elder brother, even if not by birth."
Wan Li only lowered her head, terrified of offending anyone, terrified of existing too loudly.
She was a lotus raised in still water—beautiful, delicate, and completely unprepared for storms.
The Day Her World Shattered
The memory still made Su Yan's chest tighten.
Smoke rolling through palace corridors.
The thunder of artillery.
Ruyi's urgent hands dressing Wan Li in servant's clothes, packing gold and jewelry into a small bundle.
"Listen to me," the Empress Dowager whispered, cupping Wan Li's tear-stained cheeks.
"You must survive. You must obey. Do not fight. Do not speak. Do not seek attention. Go to the Yuan family—they will protect you."
Wan Li had cried silently, choking on her own sobs.
"Mother… don't leave me…"
Then the door was forced open by explosions and screams.
And Ruyi—the woman who had shaped Wan Li's entire world—pushed her daughter out into chaos.
Hard.
It was the only way to make her run.
Su Yan dragged Wan Li through smoke-filled alleys, her own lungs burning. Wan Li stumbled, collapsed, pulled herself up, collapsed again—her body too fragile, her spirit too shocked to process anything but grief.
Then the ground shook.
Rubble fell from above.
Wan Li froze.
Su Yan remembered the moment with perfect clarity—
A figure lunged into them, shoving both girl and maid aside just as a massive beam crashed where they'd stood.
Su Yan hit the floor with a choked cry, dust filling her lungs. Her ears rang violently.
Then the figure grabbed Wan Li and hauled her upright with one decisive pull.
"Get up."
The voice was steady even amid chaos.
Su Yan blinked through the smoke.
A boy—no, a young man—stood before them.
Older than Wan Li.
Tall.
Clad in a military greatcoat streaked with ash.
Dark eyes sharp, alert, commanding.
He had saved both her and Wan Li.
She learned his name when a soldier addressed him as Young Marshal Zhang.
This Young Marshal Zhang not only saved them from the rubble that collapsed but also asked the soldier to take them out.
And Su Yan knew:
Wan Li and her own life had been saved not only by Empress dowager Ruyi—
But also, by that young marshal.
--
Back to the Present — Waiting for Fate
A cold gust rattled the bamboo screens. Wan Li flinched before catching herself, lowering her head again.
Su Yan exhaled slowly.
Wan Li had survived the destruction of a dynasty.
She had survived losing her mother.
She had survived chaos, collapse, and fear.
But what awaited her in this house?
Ambition.
Suspicion.
A family who saw her not as a girl… but as a symbol.
A threat.
A bargaining chip.
Su Yan slid closer, kneeling beside Wan Li.
"Miss," she whispered, "whatever comes next… I am with you."
Wan Li nodded, though her lowered lashes trembled.
Then—
Footsteps.
Steps belonging to someone confident, composed, used to command.
A voice called from beyond the doorway:
"Madam Li will see you now."
Wan Li stood, smoothing her skirt the way she had done thousands of times in the palace.
Small, gentle, terrified.
And Su Yan followed behind her, heart pounding with a single thought:
Please… let her survive this too.
--
TBC