The night was as dark as ink, utterly silent.
Hidden deep within the bamboo groves of the imperial palace, a pavilion stood with dim lamplight flickering, shadows overlapping, and faint sobbing sounds lingering in the air.
Yun Wan was forced onto a narrow divan, her mind hazy, her delicate face flushed.
A man's strong arm encircled her waist, his posture domineering, his mature masculine aura enveloping her entirely.
Her robes slipped loose, pooling on the floor, their moon-white and black-gold hues tangled in disarray.
The bamboo lattice window reflected the scene inside as the autumn night wind rose, rustling through the bamboo grove, muffling everything around them.
Yun Wan's eyes burned with unshed tears, her lashes half-lowered, her expression soft and alluring. Through the haze, she glimpsed the sharp, indifferent lower half of the man's face.
Suddenly, in that half-dream state, he stopped. A clear, cold question pierced her ears:
"What is your name? Which palace do you belong to?"
Unprepared, she met his dark, fathomless phoenix eyes, and her heart clenched.
Whoosh—
The scene before her shattered like a mirror, splintering into countless cold shards that shot toward her brow. Yun Wan raised her hands to shield herself—and jolted awake.
......
She sat up abruptly in bed, drenched in cold sweat, her face pale, the suffocating terror from the dream still gripping her.
Thankfully, the familiar surroundings of her room greeted her. Clutching her chest, she exhaled shakily, the lingering fear slowly dissipating.
Then, a flash of blue caught her eye—a handkerchief.
Turning, she met the gaze of its owner and instantly softened into a gentle smile. "Sui, you're here."
The boy called 'Sui,' his hair tied in two childish topknots, leaned against the bed, his delicate face brimming with concern. His large, watery eyes fixed on Yun Wan as he asked in a clear, childish voice:
"Mother, did you have a nightmare?"
He held the handkerchief, standing on tiptoe to wipe her sweat.
Yun Wan bent down, letting him fuss over her before taking the cloth from his chubby little hand to dab her forehead dry.
She ruffled his hair soothingly. "It's nothing, Sui. Don’t worry, Mother is fine."
It was just a dream.
A dream she had been having for five years.
Ever since her husband’s death and Sui’s birth, the dream had faded from her mind—until recently, when it began replaying inexplicably.
A faint crease formed between her brows, but she smoothed it away at the sight of her son’s innocent gaze. Suppressing her unease, she changed the subject. "Why are you here so early today? Are you hungry?"
As a mother, Yun Wan knew her son’s routine well. After waking, Sui would study for half a shichen before coming to her. By then, she would have finished her morning ablutions, and the two would sit together for breakfast.
Sui blinked, puzzled. "Mother, it’s already mid-morning. Not early at all."
Yun Wan froze, then glanced at the window. The sunlight outside was bright, the morning mist long gone—it was nearly noon.
She had overslept by an hour and a half.
Sui straightened, tucking his hands into his sleeves. "You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you."
Meaning, he had stayed by her side the entire time.
Yun Wan’s heart swelled with warmth. She pulled him into her arms, pressing a kiss to his smooth forehead. "My sweet boy, so thoughtful!"
Though only four, Sui was already mature beyond his years. He squirmed slightly, torn between delight and bashfulness at his mother’s affection, but soon relented.
Yun Wan stroked his hair, then nuzzled his plump cheeks until they turned as red as boiled shrimp before finally releasing him.
Remembering the day’s duties, she called for a servant and told Sui, "Wait outside for a moment. Once Mother is ready, we’ll go to Grandmother’s."
Sui nodded obediently, carefully folding the blue handkerchief before tucking it into his sleeve.
This was the handkerchief his mother had embroidered for him—he couldn’t lose it.
Servants brought warm water, and Yun Wan washed quickly, changing into a pale, flowing gown. Her maid, Yue Ya, styled her hair simply, securing it with two plain hairpins—the typical attire of a widow.
"Madam, everything is prepared."
The voice belonged to Yue Jian, who entered holding a small brocade box.
Yun Wan nodded, gesturing for her to set it aside.
In less than half a shichen, she was ready. Taking Sui’s hand, she hurried toward Old Madam Lu’s courtyard.
Kindness Hall
Passing through the gate and down the corridor, Yun Wan paused just before the main hall. Bending slightly, she whispered to Sui, "Do you remember what Mother told you yesterday?"
Holding her hand, Sui nodded solemnly. "I remember everything."
"Good."
She ruffled his hair once more before stepping inside.
The room was furnished with ornate huanghuali wood furniture. A sandalwood divan was draped with thin quilts, and a small table held an incense burner shaped like an auspicious beast, its smoke curling upward.
Old Madam Lu, nearing sixty, sat upright on the divan, her silver hair covered by a forehead band, her figure clad in stone-brown brocade. Her eyes were closed as a maid recited scriptures beside her, her fingers methodically turning prayer beads.
At the sound of footsteps, the old woman’s eyes opened—sharp and shrewd beneath drooping lids.
Yun Wan released Sui’s hand and curtsied. "This daughter-in-law greets Mother."
Dressed in muted gray, her movements were graceful, the jade pendant at her waist swaying gently like rippling water.
Even in this simple gesture, Yun Wan carried an elegance that made her seem more like a painting than a widow in mourning.
Old Madam Lu’s murky eyes flashed with displeasure. "Why are you so late today?"
Yun Wan kept her gaze lowered. "This daughter-in-law overslept. I beg Mother’s forgiveness."
The old woman’s face darkened. "A three-year-old might be excused for oversleeping, but you are a mother. How could you be so careless? If you don’t wish to attend to this old woman, you needn’t come at all—spare me the excuses."
The rebuke was harsh. Were it to spread, others would assume Yun Wan was a neglectful daughter-in-law.
The scripture-reciting maid fell silent, casting a sidelong glance.
But Yun Wan remained composed, her expression cool. "Mother’s reprimand is justified."
After seven years in the Lu household, she knew better than to argue.
If she took the old woman’s words at face value and stopped visiting, the consequences would be far worse.
It was the classic case of—if you don’t come, she’ll be even angrier.
Over the years, especially since her husband’s death five years ago, Old Madam Lu’s criticisms had only grown sharper.
Yun Wan let them in one ear and out the other.
Old Madam Lu slammed the table. "What kind of attitude is this?"
Yun Wan replied flatly, "A widow’s attitude."
