Chapter One: Voluntarily Becoming a Concubine

The ninth month of winter had arrived, and the biting wind swept along with the snow, seeping through every crack and slashing at Xie Yun’s face like knives and axes. She lifted her skirt as she hurried through the corridor, disregarding the curious and disdainful gazes of the maids and elderly servants around her, and went straight to the front of Qinghui Hall. She hesitated for a long moment before finally kneeling.

“Sister, I beg you, please save Grandmother. Three days have passed, and you clearly promised me—”

Before she could finish, a young woman emerged from inside, dressed in a brand-new autumn-yellow embroidered gown, her features lively and charming, a heavy gold bracelet glinting on her wrist. Upon seeing Xie Yun, she glanced sideways with a smirk and said, “Oh, so it’s you, Auntie Xie. The Lady has just taken a nap. Perhaps you should come back at another time.”

She emphasized the word “Auntie” with pointed derision, and more and more servants gathered nearby to watch the spectacle.

Xie Yun was momentarily startled, then lowered her gaze.

The woman before her, so pleased with herself, was Yi Xiang, who had once been Xie Yun’s chief maid. Somehow, she had been drawn over to Xie Yuming’s side, and now stood before Xie Yun with an air of triumph.

Of course, Yi Xiang had latched onto Xie Yuming, and Xie Yuming was now the Lady of the Pingjing Marquis’s household.

Xie Yun had lived in Qinghui Hall for a year, but three days prior, she had handed it over to Xie Yuming herself.

Three days ago, she was the honored Lady of the Marquis’s household, destined to be the future wife of the heir. Now, she had become nothing more than an “auntie,” someone anyone in the household could trample upon.

Xie Yun gave herself a bitter smile, and when she raised her eyes again, they were veiled with a frosty chill.

“Yi Xiang, do you really think that by clinging to Xie Yuming, you can rest easy from now on?”

Yi Xiang’s smug expression froze, and she glared at Xie Yun in annoyance. “What are you getting at, Auntie Xie?”

She kept repeating “Auntie,” as if reminding Xie Yun to always remember her diminished status.

Xie Yun had already risen from her knees. Through Yi Xiang, she could see the silhouette of a woman behind the curtain in the main room, leisurely sipping tea, and a sudden realization dawned upon her.

“Yi Xiang, after all the years you served me, do you still not understand my dear sister’s intentions?”

“You betrayed your mistress; now Xie Yuming uses you against me. But when I am gone, do you truly think she will value you?”

“Let me guess what she’s told you. She must have promised you more than just a bit of wealth—did she also say she’d make you a concubine to Cheng Shaoqian? That you’ll enjoy some glory in this household?”

Xie Yun spoke calmly, but as she did, Yi Xiang’s face paled noticeably.

Her expression grew flustered. She was secretly angry that Xie Yun had guessed everything so precisely, but pride made her want to refute it. Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching from behind, and immediately fell silent, stepping aside.

The servants in the courtyard all bowed respectfully.

Xie Yuming now enjoyed boundless prestige.

Though Xie Yun had married into the Pingjing Marquis’s household first, within half a year Xie Yuming had followed, becoming the secondary wife. This had stirred up quite a commotion in Yan Capital, with people marveling that the Prime Minister’s family would let two daughters serve the same husband—truly something strange and rare.

But only those involved knew the truth: Xie Yuming had seduced her brother-in-law, Cheng Shaoqian, and thus the so-called “Yan Capital romance” was born.

“Sister, with your sharp tongue, why bother tormenting a maid?” Xie Yuming’s voice was languid as she approached, remaining above the steps and looking down at Xie Yun.

Yi Xiang now seemed to find her support, completely forgetting Xie Yun’s earlier warning. She snapped, “Auntie Xie, you’re so disrespectful! Why haven’t you greeted the Lady?”

Xie Yun ignored her, lifting her gaze slowly from the hem of the bright red embroidered skirt before her, as if seeing its wearer for the first time.

Xie Yuming was strikingly beautiful, her features like a finely painted court lady, jeweled hair ornaments sparkling atop her head. She smiled sweetly at Xie Yun, yet the smile never reached her eyes.

She held a heater in her hands, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the inner chamber she’d just left—completely different from Xie Yun’s wind-chilled, battered face.

“Yi Xiang, your words are off. My sister has only been an ‘auntie’ for three days; she must not have learned the proper rules yet. How would she know to greet the Lady?”

Xie Yuming spoke with a charming, delicate smile, raising her hand to adjust the flower hairpin at her temple, perfectly embodying the role of a household mistress.

Daughters of the Prime Minister’s family were naturally well bred, but both Yi Xiang and Xie Yun remembered how timid Xie Yuming had been at fifteen when she was brought back to the family. They knew well that all this grace and poise had been taught to her by Xie Yun herself, and both felt a moment of bittersweet clarity.

Xie Yun looked steadily at her, calming her heart, and said, “If you still consider me your sister, then take that medicine to the Prime Minister’s residence and save Grandmother. After all, she is your own grandmother, too.”

Xie Yuming feigned surprise. “What medicine? Are you talking about the prized ginseng the Emperor gifted two years ago? Didn’t I tell you just days ago that I used it last year when I was unwell?”