Grace. Sophistication. Honor. Virtue.

Ever since she was little, these four words had been ingrained into Lanmei, and she had been trained to embody the meaning and significance of each one. Her mother had started preparing her to be the perfect bride since the day she could walk. Books of philosophy, poetry, ethics, history, and so many more subjects. Music, dance, art, sewing--Lanmei had been taught all of these desirable skills for women of class.

Had she ever mastered a single one of them?

Of course not.

Yu Lanmei was what many of the social elites would define as a failure.

She was constantly clumsy, tripping over stools and even over her own feet. Her voice wasn’t soft and modulated--in fact, it was usually the opposite. Of the Three Hundred Yin Poems, she’d memorized about ten--which really, in her opinion, was not bad, but of course to her mother, Lanmei was at the level equivalent to six-year-old’s. So of course, Lanmei was badgered on the daily basis to recite the conducts of a proper woman in society--naturally, all details included.

As her mother would say: Lanmei was the epitome of female uncouthness.

Lanmei truly tried though. She tried memorizing and practicing all the etiquettes in her etiquette book. She tried maintaining good posture throughout the entire day. She did her best to not let a single drop of blood slip from her finger onto her embroidery. She tried to be like her older sister, Yu Lixue, who was perhaps everything that Lanmei was not. Naturally, Lixue had had many suitors asking for her hand in marriage—of course, this was before she married Jiang Lanling, and now the two were the picture-perfect couple.

However, with the way Lanmei was, she never expected to be married off. She’d probably end up as that lonely old granny in the family who sat in a wooden chair while staring at the garden all day and croaking nonsense about her youth (“back in my day!”). And yet--that future was now guaranteed to not pass.

“Can you really imagine me in vermillion robes and a veil covering my head?” Lanmei leaned over the granite table towards Lixue, who was sipping a cup of tea, her slim pinky just slightly curved up over the porcelain teacup.

Lixue calmly placed the cup onto the table’s cold, granite surface, then raised her eyes to examine Lanmei for a brief moment, a delicate brow arched. Her crimson lips pursed for a moment, before transitioning into a slight pucker as she narrowed her eyes. Lanmei held back the sigh that always threatened to come out of her whenever she laid eyes on her sister. Lixue was simply gorgeous, earning her the title of the Blossom of the Yu Family. Her flawless, creamy complexion combined with a pair of captivating, dark amber orbs for eyes and long, obsidian hair were all features envied by the hundreds of other girls at her age and status. Once, when she and Lanmei were out on a walk on a sunny day in the marketplace, a young man had even requested to write a poem of Lixue’s beauty.

How could Lanmei even begin to compare?

“Well,” Lixue started slowly, her eyes sliding to the side, “I suppose I can.”

“Liar.” Lanmei’s shoulder dropped despondently as she pouted.

“I am not!” her sister immediately protested, smoothing back a nonexistent stray lock of hair into her updo held in place by silver and jade pins and combs. She waved a pale hand at Lanmei in a futile attempt to console her. “Now see here, if you can simply--” she stood up from the granite stool and took a few small steps towards Lanmei to cradle her face like some fragile vase “--lessen your daily food consumption, perhaps do some laps around the garden with a bowl of tea perched on your head…oh!” Lixue abruptly broke off and leaned down so that her mouth was close to Lanmei’s ear as she whispered secretively, “I’ve also heard that Dong Quai soup increases the bustline.”

The sad part was that Lixue’s voice was actually chirpy as she threw out these pieces of advice at Lanmei, who peered down at her washboard of a chest as her sister finished. It appeared as if her breasts hadn’t grown a single bit since she was ten years of age.

“Yes Lixue, I understand where I am lacking.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the nonexistent pair of breasts, then rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to point it out.”

Compared to Lixue, Lanmei couldn’t even begin with all the areas in which she was inferior to her sister.

Sighing, she tilted her head back to stare at the monotone plains of the autumn sky. The day was actually quite chilly, and while Lixue had donned her fur-lined cloak, Lanmei had stubbornly decided to wear only her ruqun--whose pastel colors were quite off-season. A passing draft kissed her bare neck and she shivered.

The little courtyard with its two staggering maple and oak trees was washed in cerise, russet and gold. Carpeting the stone-tiled ground was a patchwork of dried, wrinkled leaves that danced along with the winds and crackled under footsteps. The porcelain flower pots sitting at the entrance of the side wings appeared forlorn with the chrysanthemums and camellias within them either wilted or absent. When Lanmei inhaled, she breathed in the scent of damp leaves and dried grass permeating the air. Autumn was gradually withering away to the incoming winter, which was to hail its entrance in perhaps a fortnight or so.

In less than a month though…

“It’s so hard to believe that my wedding day would be so soon,” murmured Lanmei, still gazing up at the gray sky. “And of all families…”

“The Hua,” finished Lixue, her voice hushed and pitiful. Silence hung between the two girls for a few seconds as a seemingly ominous gust of autumn breeze disrupted the air. “Oh Lanmei, how I wish that it wasn’t so.”

It had been known throughout the entire city of the long-lasting dispute between two families: the Hua and the Yu. It was said that years ago, when the heads of the two families were in their prime, both sought to win the affection of the same woman. Yet, when that woman was ultimately taken by Death, bitterness rose between the two heads, eventually involving the rest of the families.

Personally, Lanmei found the story rather silly. Years of enmity that developed all because of a single person? How ridiculous. The two heads ought to have their heads straightened.

Unfortunately, one of them happened to be her father. Yu Lihuan.

Coincidentally, the family that had accepted Lanmei was the very family whom hers had been in the decades-long conflict against. The Hua family, whose head was Hua Kangxi.

Why, oh why?

“It was Father’s decree, though.” Lanmei absentmindedly traced the sprinkly pattern of the granite beneath her with her index fingertip. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she bowed her head to stare at the hem of her ruqun, her feet kicking gently at it to make it bob like ocean waves. She’d heard oh-so-many rumors of the Hua Family from her own relatives, such as how they were a group of barbarians who trained the women in their family like soldiers and acted egotistically because of their status. Someone had even said once that the head of the family had beaten one of the Hua children so badly that three of the child’s bones broke.

That was the family she was marrying into.

Hopefully rumors were just rumors.

However, rumors aside, Lanmei knew for sure one reason as to why her family would bear such enmity towards the Hua, as it involved a certain condition of her father.

“Poor child,” Lixue wrapped her arms around Lanmei and rested her cheek over her head. The smell of chrysanthemum and jasmine ointments enveloped Lixue and she nearly sneezed at the overwhelming floral scents. “If it consoles you even a little bit, at least bear in mind that you are doing a huge service and honor to your family. Our connection with the Hua--”

“--will help Father reestablish our status and hopefully regain the Emperor’s favor, and our family will be able to prosper once more,” finished Lanmei, the words coming out of her mouth like memorized lines of a poem. Propping her elbows up on the table, she nestled her chin in her palms, fingers curling in slightly. “Yes, right. I know.”

Ever since Father’s announcement, Mother and Lixue had been constantly drilling into Lanmei the reason for her marriage. She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make her more optimistic of the arrangement, but if anything, it only highly irritated her. She blew out a sigh, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk’s before deflating.

Of all the families that lived within the city and the ones surrounding it, there had been no one else aside from the Hua who were willing to have her wed into their family. The prestigious Huan family had been unwilling. The scholarly Xian Family looked down upon her with disdain. The Sui family of the county magistrate, rejected her as well. All the other noble families rejected her as well.

Lanmei’s hand slipped to the part of her back close to the nape of her neck. Her fingertips brushed over a line of uneven, risen skin. Not once had the unpleasant sensation of the ruined skin ever failed to cause her to grimace. A scar. Or something more like a curse mark. It began from the just beneath the nape of her neck and then crossed diagonally down to the middle right of her back. Because of it, that blemish, all the families deemed her an unfit bride candidate. Certainly, it was always hidden beneath the layers of her clothes, but even then a small section of it peeked out of the back collar of her ruqun.

What if the future child bears it? It is a bad omen! She bears bad luck on her body! 

She had received so many scornful looks and had heard so many silly superstitions regarding her scar; all the reasons why she could never have a husband or a child--simply because of some blemish on her body.

However, her family was in dire need of financial support. They could barely afford to pay their servants any longer, much less house them. Everyday, Mother fretted that there would not be enough food to feed each member of the family; it had gotten to the point where Lanmei could no longer bear to stomach another egg from its recurring presence in her meals for the past two months. Steamed eggs? Absolutely not. Egg porridge? Not even that. Even her past all-time favorite tea eggs were no longer appetizing. Lately it had switched to cabbage…

Of all people, the Hua--her saviors from the doom of eating eggs and cabbage daily for the rest of her life. Or would that had been a better option?

“It’s all because of that mark,” Lanmei sighed. She looked up wistfully at her sister. “I wish my skin was as flawless as yours.”

Seeing her little sister’s sadness seemed to spark Lixue’s older-siblings protectiveness. She squeezed Lanmei even tighter and rested her cheek over her head.

“Don’t listen to them, Lanmei!” she exclaimed fiercely. “They’re all just silly little, baseless words! What curse? What bad omen? I will send a bad omen to anyone who dares to hurt my little sister’s feelings!”

“Really?”

“Of course not, it’s bad etiquette. But you understand my point?” Lixue gazed down at her expectantly. Her fingers went under Lanmei’s chin to tip it up ever-so-slightly so that their eyes locked. “It is for the sake of our family. It is your duty, as a filial daughter.”

Lanmei didn’t reply until a few more moments passed. Be honorable and be filial, she repeated in her head. For the sake of the family. Of course. She nodded. She had to. For once, she could make herself useful to her loved ones. Lanmei was more than willing to sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of everyone else’s within her family.

“If anything, I can provide you with different types of ointments that may come in handy should you ever be subject to…oh, I don’t know…any kinds of violence within that household, once you move in.” Lixue pursed her lips. “Oh! And if you ever get bored and homesick, I have a copy of Conducts of a Proper Woman in Society for you! You can also work on memorizing the two-hundred and ninety more Yin poems.”

Lanmei looked up at her sister with an expression of a combination of horror and strangeness. “Sister…you have an awfully twisted view on relieving boredom and homesickness. You really think I want a bunch of etiquette rules and dull poems to remind me of home?”

“What?” Lanmei found it a bit pitiful that her sister was genuinely confused. But then a look of offense quickly occupied Lixue’s face. “And for your information, the poems are absolutely beautiful and insightful! You could at least try reading it once in a while.”

“Hmm.” Lanmei tapped her chin, looking up at the sky contemplatively for a few moments before flashing a sweet smile at her sister. “I disagree.”

Lixue promptly stepped away from her younger sister and sniffed, turning her body away in an exaggerated manner in which her cloak flared out behind her. Her arms crossed as she muttered, “Fine. I was only trying to give advice.” Then she shot a menacing look back at Lanmei. “I was actually considering about making some osmanthus cake today. But now seeing that I’m in such a sour mood because of a certain someone…perhaps there won’t be any treats today.”

“Pardon?” Lanmei immediately shot up from her chair, and in a split second she was standing right behind Lixue and gently massaging the older girl’s shoulders. “My wonderful, dear, sweet older sister. You know I was simply joking around with you, yes? If it makes you happy, I’ll start memorizing another two or three Yin poems. Oh! Or perhaps shall I recite the first thirty conducts of a proper woman in society? Would you like me to play a little tune on the ocarina? I can do it right now, if you’d like.”

“Well now,” Lixue said slowly, arching up a brow. The corner of her lips was quirked up in the tiniest of smiles. “I see your attitude has taken a very sharp turn.”

Lanmei beamed sunnily, then swallowed. A few, dried maple leaves tumbled past their feet. “Now about that osmanthus cake…”

Lixue sighed, rubbing her perfectly-smooth forehead. “Alright, alright. You’ll have some later this afternoon.”

“Spectacular!” shouted Lanmei, springing back as she spun on the ball of her foot, grinning jubilantly. She gave her sister a few quick pats on the shoulder. “I really don’t know what I’d do without your cooking, Lixue.”

“Oh?” Lixue cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. Her cloak swayed near the bottom close to her feet as she turned around to face Lanmei. “Without my cooking? Not without me?”

“You included.” Lanmei playfully squeezed her sister’s shoulders before taking a few steps away and pacing around the table with her hands folded behind her back. “But you know, I’m actually quite curious about my husband. I believe his name is Hua Yunhai?”

Tossing a sideways glance at her sister, she noticed Lixue shifting uncomfortably as she pursed her lips, one hand pulling out an embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve.

“What is it?”

“Oh. It’s just that I thought you knew already.”

“Knew what?”