Chapter 7 — The Mandarin Duck Kerchief

On what grounds? It was clearly me first... That embroidered handkerchief was obviously mine, so why would you ever...

She gripped the embroidered cloth tightly, her voice trembling with indignation and grief. Mother hurried forward, soothing her with soft words, coaxing her for the better part of the day before she finally calmed down.

Eighteen

After their wedding, Xiao Huaian remained profoundly cold toward my elder sister. He almost never set foot in her private quarters. On the rare occasions he did visit, he would simply stand before the window, gazing at the moon in a trance, his mind clearly wandering elsewhere. My sister tried again and again to win his favor. She would embroider the silk robes he preferred and present them to him, only for him to carelessly cast them aside; she would prepare the pastries he loved, yet he would not even deign to glance at them.

Three months later, Xiao Huaian took a primary consort—the eldest legitimate daughter of the Ministry of Rites official, the Lam family. I once saw that woman from a distance, and I froze in place. Her features and brows bore a striking resemblance to my own, easily seven parts alike. When my sister discovered this, she locked herself in her room and shattered every piece of porcelain within reach. She clutched that mandarin duck handkerchief so fiercely that her fingernails dug into her palms, her tears soaking the silk until the embroidered ducks bled into a blurred, ink-like stain.

The next morning, Spring Peach came running in a panic to report to me that my eldest sister had... A strip of white silk hung from the rafters. By the time I arrived, her body had already gone cold. Her hand was still clenched tight around that handkerchief. The mandarin ducks on the fabric, stained by tears and dried by the air, had changed color. She left behind a single letter, the handwriting chaotic and frantic, containing only one line:

What I could not possess, do not dream of finding peace in either.

When Xiao Huaian received the news, he remained silent for a brief moment before ordering a hasty burial, skipping even the most basic funerary rites. When I arrived at the mourning hall, he happened to be there as well. He stood before the coffin, casting his gaze down at my sister’s deathly pale face, before suddenly turning to look at me. His eyes were deep and unreadable.

Thinh Tuyet, I regret it. Are you willing to give me a chance?

I did not betray a single emotion on my face, merely answering in a hollow, detached tone:

It is all too late now.

Nineteen

Three days later, the Emperor fell gravely ill, and the Crown Prince took over the administration of the state. Xiao Huaian was kept busy with court affairs, leaving him no time to spare. Ta Chi Yen and I had already finalized our arrangements. While the sky was still dark, an unremarkable carriage pulled up to the back gate of the To family estate. I carried my simple luggage and stepped inside. Ta Chi Yen was waiting within; as I entered, he reached out to adjust my cloak, his voice soft and gentle as he asked, Are you afraid?

I looked into his eyes and shook my head. What was there to fear? In my previous life, I had been imprisoned in the Eastern Palace for three years, enduring days of cold indifference and public humiliation. What was there to fear now about traveling far to the Northern Border to marry a man who treated me with genuine sincerity?

As the carriage wheels rattled away from the northern gate of the capital, the horizon began to glow with a reddish hue. I pulled back the curtain to look behind me, watching the outline of the city walls fade until they disappeared into the morning mist. Ta Chi Yen gently took my hand, his palm warm and dry against my skin.

The Northern Border is often filled with wind and sand. If you find it difficult to adjust, I will plant the gardens of the southern lands all throughout the Marquis estate for you.

I looked down at our joined hands and suddenly began to laugh. In this life, I would be no one’s shadow, no one’s obsession. I would simply be To Thinh Tuyet, the wife cherished in the palm of Ta Chi Yen’s hand.