and sat down for a painting she had been working on for the last few days. Tender orchids sheltered in a small pond in her backyard. Mister Liu had to understand.
He’s always said her lips were of the prettiest shade of orchid pink, her skin was softer than it’s petals, and her eyes were of the dark green deeper than Chang Jiang. Ten years after, the youthful passion has given the way to marital respect. She wasn’t that humble girl he’d fallen in love with any more, she was a noble woman, an honourable wife of an honourable husband.
Ying Yue was lovely and thin as a felt cherry blossom branch. She was around eighteen, a charming creature with a voice that could make Xue Tao jealous, and beauty able to eclipse Diaochan’s. It was easy to understand why she was such a desirable concubine.
Wang just finished the last line of her poem to Mister Liu, as Chi, her maid, entered the room and reported the guest waiting in the hall. She knew it was Ying. Wang ordered to serve her tea, and changed into a decent dress. As soon as the painting was dry enough, she rolled it into a scroll and tied it up with a pale pink ribbon in a European manner. She faked a smile on her lips and went out of the room, leaning on Chi’s hand.
“Pleasure to see you so early in the morning, darling,” she greeted her then, and Ying shyly bowed in response, putting the teacup on the table. The girl’s ebony hair was pulled back in a lush hairstyle. She was dressed in a long skirt with a train, with an elegant velvet scarf around her marble neck and a bunch of light blue flowers pinned on the high chest.
“Ma’am,” Chi helped Wang Shu to sit down and left the hall. The women exchanged a few optional phrases about the weather, before Wang could finally gather her thoughts and return to the real topic.
“You’re here to get my permission, aren’t you?” she breathed out, staring heavily right into other’s big doe-like eyes. Ying nodded.
“I will never accept you,” Wang Shu whispered, lowering her gaze, remembering all she was taught on the four women virtues, “I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“May I ask you to take him this painting?” Ying Yue took it, questioningly flapping her long eyelashes, “It says I’m not asking for a divorce, as it could damage his reputation.”
“I’d be honoured, ma’am,” Wang swallowed her pride and placed her palms around girl’s. She gulped.
“But I don’t want to see any of you in this house ever again.”
Ying bowed goodbye and hurriedly left the house, then, after a little thought, threw the scroll into the nearest waste can. Wang smirked, watching her through the window. Maybe it would be even better this way.
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