Chapter 2
Chapter 2: She Is a Calamity
Granny Sun fell silent. The window had already been pasted over, and as Awu looked out from inside the room, the sun shone through the newly covered window screen, casting light upon the carved wooden door panel. The lifelike grasshoppers, fish, shrimp, pomegranates, and persimmons seemed to spring from the surface.
She could guess Granny Sun’s thoughts, though she didn’t care to dwell on them. The food at the Crown Prince’s residence was excellent; the Crown Prince doted on her. Naturally, she lived in comfort, wishing she could stay here forever, savoring each day as if it might be her last.
Yet—
She was well aware that her position could not be shown to the light of day. She had neither title nor status, living only on the Crown Prince’s fleeting favor, and now she had even provoked the Emperor.
The Emperor was the Crown Prince’s own father, the master of all under heaven; a single indifferent glance from him could spell her end.
Moreover, her encounter with the Crown Prince at the manor had never been a matter of mere chance. When she thought it over carefully, Awu’s heart was filled with unease. If the truth were ever discovered, she could not imagine how matters would be resolved.
Lost in thought, she heard footsteps approaching outside.
Granny Sun listened, poked her head out, and through the half-opened warm window she saw who it was.
Awu saw them too—two maids, elegantly dressed, their expressions stern and lofty. She guessed they were attendants of the Crown Princess.
Granny Sun hurried out, jogging to greet them with a fawning smile. The maids gave her quiet instructions, and Granny Sun nodded repeatedly.
Only after the two maids had departed did Granny Sun return indoors.
Awu listened to the sound of Granny Sun’s footsteps up the steps, waiting patiently.
Sure enough, Granny Sun entered, adopting a formal posture and a stern face as she announced, “Hurry and tidy yourself up. You are to come with me to pay respects to Her Highness.”
Awu accepted this calmly. “Understood.”
Awu’s health was frail; she rarely left her rooms, and these past days of lethargy meant she had not taken care with her appearance.
Now, summoned to meet the Crown Princess, she dared not be careless. She meticulously arranged her hair and attire.
Yet she didn’t wish to appear too ostentatious, so she instructed her maid, “Keep it simple.”
Granny Sun leaned against the window, cracking melon seeds, her eyes narrowing as she watched Awu.
The more she looked, the more unsettled she felt.
Awu truly was a beauty.
She looked no more than fifteen or sixteen, yet her charm was already blooming. The silver-striped blouse and gold-threaded gauze skirt suited her perfectly, a narrow jade belt encircling her slender waist, accentuating her delicate grace.
Her skin was alabaster, every exposed inch—wrists, the nape of her neck, cheeks—like carved ice and polished jade, alluring and vibrant. Her eyes brimmed with autumn water, glistening as if with unshed tears, stirring pity in the heart.
Awu’s preparations complete, she appeared simply adorned—just two small hairpins in her dark hair, a single soft blossom at her temple.
Yet even so, she was dazzling, her beauty impossible to ignore.
Granny Sun spat out a shell with a “ptui,” gulped several mouthfuls of cardamom water, then said, “Let’s go.”
Awu paid her little mind, her thoughts focused on the coming meeting with the Crown Princess.
Fully dressed, she followed Granny Sun out of Emerald Ring Court, proceeding east along the covered walkway, passing through a corridor and two courtyard pavilions before reaching another courtyard.
She looked up to see a spacious courtyard with scattered rockeries and a climbing veranda that led to the upper floor, winding all the way to the rear garden, with bamboo, flowers, and stones arranged with deliberate artistry.
Awu had once enjoyed such luxuries before following the Crown Prince; she was not entirely ignorant of such things. Yet observing this courtyard, she saw that though it was not large, every detail was crafted with care and expense.
She followed Granny Sun inside, finding three rooms each on the north and south sides, with a hard-roofed veranda. Seven or eight young maids in water-green dresses stood bowed on the steps. Despite the number of people, the courtyard was utterly silent.
Granny Sun stopped; so did Awu.
Granny Sun cast her a glance. “You’re new here. Do not be disrespectful in front of the noble lady. Kneel first.”
Awu knew better than to resist; she replied obediently, “Yes.”
She knelt before the steps.
The diamond-patterned bricks were uneven beneath her thin dress, and her knees ached sharply.
She frowned but endured it.
Granny Sun gestured silently to one of the waiting maids, lips moving without sound.
The maid understood, indicating with her hand for Awu to wait as she went in to announce them.
Not a sound was made throughout; the silent communication spoke of long practice and strict discipline.
Though Awu had not yet seen the Crown Princess, she already sensed her exalted status, and her own insignificance.
She lowered her eyes and waited quietly, submitting herself to the judgment of this noblewoman.
The courtyard was so quiet that the occasional laughter from within seemed especially distinct—were there guests inside?
Awu’s knees throbbed with pain, but with so many eyes upon her, she dared not move, shifting her position only slightly for relief.
In this dull agony, her wandering gaze fell upon the sunlit window lattice of the main hall, gleaming bright. Looking more closely, she realized that the lattice was inlaid with mother-of-pearl tiles.
She had grown up by the sea and knew well what these were—the intricate process of making mother-of-pearl tiles from shells was arduous and expensive. Ordinary families could never afford to use them; to her, they had always been something to sell for survival, not to be squandered on decoration.
Only now did she see them used thus for the first time—and they were indeed beautiful.
A strange sense of unreality crept over her; everything that had happened in the past two years seemed like a dream.
Her family had never been wealthy, but life had been peaceful and happy. Frail from birth, she had been doted on by her parents and brothers, growing up cherished and protected.
Who could have imagined that at fourteen, her world would be turned upside down, leaving her fallen to this state?
All her tribulations seemed now like a muddled dream—one she wished only to forget.
Just then, she heard laughter and voices. Looking up, she saw a blue-beaded curtain sway on a bronze hook. A maid held it aside, and more maids bustled to clear the way.
Peering discreetly, Awu saw two young noblewomen surrounded by maids.
At a glance, it was clear these ladies were of the highest birth, resplendent in their attire and ornate jewelry, so dazzling that none dared look directly at them, and all the maids bowed and retreated.
Unable to rise, Awu shuffled sideways on her knees to avoid blocking their path.
Already weakened from kneeling so long, her breath grew shallow. The effort to move left her dizzy, and she nearly collapsed, but she forced herself to endure.
One of the noblewomen paused beside her.
A fragrant aroma wafted over. Awu risked a glance and saw the hem of a blue silk skirt embroidered with gold-wound flowers of the four seasons—so finely stitched and precious that it was clearly no common garment.
The noblewoman regarded her, curiosity in her voice: “Who is this? She’s so fair, almost like a girl carved from jade!”
Her voice was bright and girlish, no older than fourteen or fifteen.
Awu was surprised—this lady might be younger than she was; she wondered about her identity.
Another noblewoman spoke affectionately, “Dening, didn’t your mother want you home early? If you’re late, she won’t let you out easily again.”
The girl addressed as Dening caught her skirt anxiously. “Oh no, you’re right, Sister-in-law! I must hurry!”
Her voice was clear and sweet. Without another word, she lifted her skirt and hurried off, her maids trailing after her.
In the flurry, Awu was surrounded by bustling footsteps and watched as everyone left.
After a while, the courtyard quieted again. Awu sensed a gaze upon her—a noblewoman’s assessing, scrutinizing eyes.
She was so faint with exhaustion that she clenched her fists to stay upright, refusing to faint.
She knew that collapsing now would only make her seem fragile and disingenuous in the eyes of the noble lady.
She could afford to appear delicate before many, but not before the Crown Princess.
At last, the noblewoman spoke. “Raise your head.”
Awu obeyed, lifting her face.
In that instant, the Crown Princess, Wu Mingyuan, drew a subtle breath.
The girl before her had skin clear as fresh snow, a delicate pointed chin, kneeling weakly like a fragile blossom swaying in the evening breeze—so delicate she seemed on the verge of toppling, stirring unexpected pity.
Wu Mingyuan found herself unable to look away. Then, suddenly regaining her senses, she was overcome by a sourness and anxiety.
She had always known the Crown Prince could not belong to her alone, and had prided herself on being magnanimous, even taking the initiative to fill his rooms with companions.
One day, when the Crown Prince became Emperor, his harem would be filled with consorts and concubines—she understood this well.
She did not fear rivals for the Prince’s affection, as long as she secured her own position and wielded power. She could tolerate the presence of beautiful women.
But now, seeing this soul-stirring beauty, she doubted her own magnanimity.
She gazed at Awu, imagining the Crown Prince’s wonder at first sight, picturing how he had hidden her away in Emerald Ring Court, not letting anyone else see her—cherishing her as a secret treasure of his own.
She could not help but wonder how the Crown Prince cherished her at night.
A dull ache flooded her heart, trembling with pain.
She stared hard at Awu and, after a long pause, finally said, “Come inside and speak.”
With that, she turned and entered the house.
Awu heard the underlying edge in her voice, but to her, it sounded like music from heaven.
At least she did not have to keep kneeling.
Bracing herself on her hands, she struggled to rise. As she did, her legs gave out and she fell back to the ground.
The pain made her fingertips tremble and tears spring to her eyes.
Granny Sun sneered coldly. “What a delicate creature you are. Anyone would think you were some noble lady from the palace!”
Awu’s vision blurred; she felt she might truly faint.
Still, she forced herself to her feet, swaying but finally steady.
She managed a smile. “I must trouble you to lead me in, Granny.”
She knew she could not enter unannounced; she needed someone to guide her.
Granny Sun, more irked than ever, stomped up the steps and lifted the curtain, entering without a backward glance.
Awu was not surprised. From the moment she set foot in the Crown Princess’s courtyard, she hadn’t expected a warm welcome.
Gathering her skirt, she climbed the steps one by one.
The young maids standing with bowed heads watched her with barely concealed curiosity—some with admiration, others with disdain.
Awu herself lifted the blue curtain and entered.
At once, she was enveloped by fragrant warmth, her eyes taking in the sumptuous embroidered carpet and the attending maids.
She stood quietly, then walked forward. Reaching the carpet, she knelt and said, “Awu greets Your Highness and wishes you peace.”