Chapter 4 — The Proxy Sister

A cold laugh echoed within me. Even if he truly found this skin and face of mine appealing, he still had to belittle me first. It was as if by doing so, he felt a bit more at ease, a bit more in control. I paused by the bedside.

“My sister has not been gone for long. If she were to hear these words of yours, I fear her heart would be deeply wounded.”

The passion in Cui Teminh’s eyes vanished instantly. Seeming to feel a sudden loss of face, his expression darkened. The atmosphere between us turned taut and suffocating. He was waiting for me to be the first to bow my head, to humble myself and appease him. From the secondary courtyard came the faint, drifting sound of a flute. The melody was mournful and desolate, like weeping or a soft lament. The moment I had been waiting for finally arrived. Yet, in the middle of Giang Auyen’s performance, she hit several off-key notes—a perfect embodiment of the old saying, “When the melody is flawed, the master turns to look.” Indeed, Cui Teminh was instantly distracted by the music, his gaze shifting away from me. It was as if he had finally found the stepping stone he needed to retreat with his dignity intact.

“You are truly ignorant of your place. Go and reflect on your behavior.”

With that, he flicked his sleeves and strode out of the room, heading straight for the Orchid Fragrance Pavilion next door. Thuy Lieu helped me remove the jade pins from my hair. Just as I was preparing to rest, the door creaked open as someone pushed their way in. Madam Trieu, who had witnessed Cui Teminh leaving in a rage, stepped in with her hands on her hips. “Young Mistress, don’t blame this servant for speaking too much…” Before she could finish, Thuy Lieu’s hand shot out, delivering a sharp, stinging slap across her face.

“If you know you speak too much, then keep your mouth shut tight.”

“If you cannot control your tongue, I shall personally sew it shut for you!”

Madam Trieu’s eyes widened in shock. She opened her mouth to protest, but under the intensity of the gaze, she dared not make a sound. I glanced at the candle stand on the table.

“This design is too monotonous. I do not like it.”

Madam Trieu hesitated for a long while before responding cautiously:

“Returning to the Young Mistress, this is the style the previous mistress favored.”

“If it is not to your liking, I shall speak to the steward tomorrow and have a new set commissioned specifically for you.”

Thuy Lieu shook her head slightly.

“The Madam misunderstands.”

“The Young Mistress does not dislike the candle stand; she simply finds your hands useful.”

“Tonight, I must trouble you, Madam. Please stand by and hold the lamp for the Young Mistress.”

I suppressed a yawn. Having just arrived in this household, the old guard’s hounds would naturally not be eager to serve me. But if I allowed these insolent servants to climb onto my head and dictate my life, I might as well abandon the title of Young Mistress and pack my bags to go serve Madam Trieu instead.

Early the next morning, upon returning from paying my respects to the mother-in-law, I was met with a cold reception. When the sun had finally climbed high into the sky, Giang Auyen finally sashayed over, her slender waist swaying.

“This concubine offers greetings to the Young Mistress.”

She possessed a delicate, alluring beauty, and her voice was soft and fragile. If I were a man, perhaps the mere sound of it would have been enough to make my heart tremble. She was a complete departure from my late sister. Who does not crave the sensation of novelty? Vows of eternal love, swearing to love only one person for a lifetime—those are pleasant things to hear, but little else. Giang Auyen stood up naturally and sat down to the side.

“I did not intentionally take the young master away last night.”

“It was just a sudden impulse. I remembered a tune the young master had once taught me to play, so I brought out the flute to perform a few notes.”

She smiled faintly, feigning shyness.

“It is a pity that I am dull-witted and missed a few notes.”

“Because the young master could not bear to hear the melody ruined, he went to the other courtyard to correct my playing.”

A cold laugh stirred within me. A woman personally gifted by the Empress herself claiming to be “dull-witted.” And my sister, who had always fancied herself more talented than all the noble ladies in the capital. Truly, the world is turned upside down.

“Since you are so eager to learn,” I said, “it just so happens that I have collected several musical scores from renowned masters. I will have them brought to you so you can practice thoroughly.”

I turned to Thuy Lieu. “Find a few more famous tutors for Concubine Giang. You must ensure she is taught the most exquisite techniques.” I finished, smiling at Giang Auyen. “Do not worry, practice well.”

“In a few days, I shall examine your progress personally.”

Each day, I sent people to the Orchid Fragrance Pavilion. Under the guise of guidance, it was, in truth, constant surveillance. Because of this, every time I went to pay my respects to the mother-in-law, the sound of Giang Auyen’s relentless flute practice could be heard from the neighboring courtyard, as punctual as a ticking clock. She was not allowed to stop until the sun dipped below the western horizon. A few days later, Cui Teminh brought her along to serve at the dinner table. Giang Auyen kept her head bowed low. “Mistress, please eat.” But when she opened her mouth, her voice—once as clear as an oriole’s—was now hoarse and dry, sounding like a broken bellows leaking air. If it were anyone else, they would have made a scene by now. But Giang Auyen was capable of enduring. This single step of her retreat was enough to soften Cui Teminh’s heart, filling him with pity.

“Cham Nguyet was always kind-hearted; she would not even tread upon an ant. Why must you have such a vicious younger sister?”

My eyes suddenly reddened.

“My sister’s greatest talent was the flute. The piece ‘The Flying Partridge’ that she played could stir the very soul of the world.”

“It is only a pity that a beauty’s fate is often tragic…”