The morning air in the capital was light with the scent of osmanthus, carried in from the gardens as Yú Meiyan stepped down from the carriage. Her fingers brushed the smooth ivory hairpin holding her hair in place—a modest accessory, chosen to fit the image she needed today: a shy, unassuming girl from a forgotten branch of the Mo family.
Madam Yao’s courtyard was not grand like the Mo estate, but it was elegant in a way that spoke of old money and careful taste. White plum blossoms bowed under the weight of early dew, their fragrance subtle but deliberate—much like the woman who owned them.
Lu Shiqing walked beside her until they reached the gate, where he stopped.
“This is where I leave you,” he said. “Inside, every word you speak and every look you give will be weighed. Choose what you wish them to see.”
She met his eyes and smiled faintly. “I know exactly what I want them to see.”
The maid at the gate led her into a garden terrace, where half a dozen women sat on low cushioned seats around a polished stone table. They were dressed in layers of gauze and silk, every detail—from jade bangles to embroidered slippers—carefully arranged to whisper of their family’s status.
At the head of the group sat Madam Yao herself, a woman in her forties with a face that had aged into quiet authority. She rose when Meiyan approached.
“So you are Miss Yú,” Madam Yao said warmly. “I hear you are kin to the Mos?”
“Only distantly,” Meiyan replied, lowering her gaze just enough to seem respectful without seeming timid. “I grew up far from the capital. It’s my first time meeting anyone of such refinement.”
A ripple of soft laughter passed through the women—part amusement, part curiosity.
One young lady, dressed in pale lilac, leaned forward with an inquisitive smile. “Then you must find our capital overwhelming. Or… perhaps you’ve dreamed of it?”
Meiyan gave a modest laugh. “Dreams rarely match reality. The capital is much grander—and its people much more beautiful—than I imagined.”
Her flattery landed exactly as intended; a few faces softened.
Tea was poured, and the gathering settled into polite conversation. They spoke of the upcoming autumn festival, the latest fashions from the southern weavers, and, more delicately, of court rumors.
It was during a pause in conversation that Madam Yao spoke again.
“Tell me, Miss Yú… have you heard of His Highness, the crown prince?”
Meiyan’s lashes lowered, hiding the flicker in her eyes. “Only a little. Is he as admirable as they say?”
The lady in lilac gave a light laugh. “Admirable? He is unmatched—in both charm and wit. But he has been difficult to court. Even the most celebrated beauties have failed to capture his interest.”
A darker-haired woman added slyly, “Some say Miss Mo Lian is closest to doing so.”
Meiyan’s fingers tightened on her teacup for the briefest moment. The warmth of the porcelain seeped into her palms, steadying her.
“Oh?” she asked, with a soft, curious smile. “Miss Mo must be remarkable, then.”
Her tone was pure admiration. Only Lu Shiqing—standing somewhere outside the courtyard—would have recognized the steel beneath it.
The women exchanged more gossip, some clearly eager to measure Meiyan’s reactions. But she gave them nothing more than polite interest, sipping her tea with serene composure.
By the time the gathering ended, she had names, faces, and—most importantly—whispers. Whispers about Mo Lian, about the crown prince, and about the intricate web of alliances in the capital.
As she stepped back into the street, Lu Shiqing was waiting.
“Well?” he asked.
Meiyan’s lips curved faintly. “I think I’ve just seen the board. Now… it’s time to choose my piece.
---
Mo Lian’s Room, later that afternoon
The maid’s voice was almost casual as she poured the tea.
“That girl you met at Second Aunt’s gathering—Yú Meiyan—was seen at Madam Yao’s women’s tea this morning. Caused a little stir, they say. Soft-spoken, well-mannered… the sort of guest who makes everyone feel generous.”
Mo Lian’s lips quirked faintly. “Mm. I remember her.”
A pale, demure thing with a voice like ripples over still water.
An orphan from a forgotten branch of the Mo family—she had seemed grateful simply to be noticed.
“How convenient,” Mo Lian murmured. “It means the ladies of the capital will open their doors to her. Which means…” She lifted her tea cup and let the steam curl lazily into the air. “…she’ll be looking for someone to guide her through those doors.”
The maid hesitated. “She seems harmless enough, miss.”
“Harmless is the easiest to shape,” Mo Lian replied. “And loyalty bought with kindness is the hardest to break.”
She set the cup down, her mind already spinning the threads of opportunity.
If she took the girl under her wing now, Meiyan would see her as a benefactor. And in the capital, a loyal dog could be far more valuable than a clever snake.
“Send word,” Mo Lian said, her smile smooth and unhurried. “We’ll invite her here again—this time, not for family, but for me.”
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ONCE DROWNED TWICE DESIRED
Historical FictionShe was the villaness everyone hated. but the one they should have feared was .... The heroine Jiāng Ruoyan was betrayed and left to drown by the person everyone ardored the gentle perfect Mo Lian . But death wasn't the end . Waking in the body of...
