Chapter 14:

Chapter 14:

In the laundry yard behind the western wing, a half-dozen servant girls huddled around the steaming washbasin, their hands idling in the warm suds while their mouths did anything but rest.

"She's not the same," murmured Hong'er, her voice low but sharp, like the hiss of hot oil. "I was there. I saw it with my own eyes—Eldest Miss looked the Master dead in the eye and spoke back. The same girl who used to faint if he so much as raised his voice."

The others drew closer, sleeves damp, hearts quicker. The afternoon sunlight filtered through hanging linens, casting soft shadows across their faces.

"Possessed," whispered Lianhua, glancing over her shoulder. "It has to be. Some restless spirit must have taken over her body. How else would she dare act like that?"

"Don't be stupid," said the older washerwoman, Granny Qi, as she wrung out a robe. "She's not possessed. She's just… finally snapped. Can't you see? She's been keeping it all in for years. You know how the Master favors the Second Miss. Anyone would go mad in her place."

"But Granny," piped up a thin girl with a birthmark under her eye, "someone said she was seen beneath the osmanthus tree last night. Alone. Cross-legged like a monk. Chanting something… strange."

At once, the washing ceased.

"She was what?"

"I swear! Zhao the gardener saw it too. Said her chest was rising and falling like she couldn't breathe. Her hands were making strange movements, like… like casting spells!"

Hong'er shivered. "What if she was summoning something? A spirit to take revenge?"

"Don't say that!" Lianhua snapped, clutching her charm necklace.

But it was too late. The idea had taken root, and it grew quickly in the fertile soil of superstition.

"She's always been odd," someone muttered. "Even as a child. Too quiet. Too stiff. Always staring at people like she could hear things you couldn't."

"That's because she could," someone else offered darkly.

A beat of silence followed—then a chorus of nervous laughter, thin and hollow.

They didn't really believe it. Not entirely.

And yet…

"And did you see her eyes yesterday?" Hong'er said suddenly. "When she looked at the Second Miss? Like she could flay her skin with just a blink. Cold, cold eyes. Like she wasn't even human."

"She's grieving," Granny Qi snapped again, though even she didn't sound convinced this time. "Lost her mother. Lost her status. That kind of grief can make people strange."

"But grief doesn't make you… whisper to yourself at night, does it?" asked Lianhua, voice trembling now. "Or wake screaming, like something is chasing you?"

A wind stirred the drying sheets, making them dance like specters between the women.

And all around, eyes darted—toward the east wing, toward the osmanthus courtyard, toward the closed doors where the eldest young miss now spent her days in silence.

Their fear wasn't loud. It was quiet, sticky, infectious.

By the time the bells rang for afternoon meal, the whispers had grown legs. By nightfall, they had wings.

---

The next morning, a gentle breeze drifted through the half-open window lattice, stirring the lingering scent of sandalwood and plum blossoms. Osmanthus Courtyard was silent, save for the soft rustle of silk and the occasional turn of a page.

Shen Yuhan sat cross-legged on the rosewood couch, one hand delicately supporting a bamboo scroll, her expression unreadable. Across from her, Ming'er knelt beside a small red clay stove, pouring freshly steeped plum tea into her mistress's porcelain cup. The tea let out a fragrant wisp of steam that curled upward like a spirit released.

The serenity of the scene shattered as Ah Zhu pushed open the door without waiting to be announced, her brows knit, voice gruff.

"They are just too much," she muttered, not even bothering to bow.

Shen Yuhan didn't look up. "Who?"

"The servants. The maids. The cooks. Even that nosy old Granny Qi from the laundry yard." Ah Zhu set a wrapped packet of pastries on the low table with a thud. "Mouths flapping like loose shutters in a storm. Saying you're possessed. That you chant curses beneath trees. That you've summoned something."

Ming'er froze, the tea kettle tilted in her hand.

Shen Yuhan finally lifted her eyes. Calm. Cool. The kind of look that stripped away all pretense.

"Did I summon anything?" she asked flatly.

Ah Zhu blinked. "What?"

"You were there, weren't you?" Shen Yuhan's lips curved just faintly. "When I meditated under the osmanthus tree. Did the ghosts answer my call?"

There was no mockery in her tone—just an unsettling stillness. Enough to make even Ah Zhu, bold as she was, pause before answering.

"…No," she admitted after a beat. "Just wind. And silence."

Ming'er quietly set the kettle down and folded her hands in her lap, head lowered. "But… everyone is talking, Miss. Even the stable boys. They say you walk with no shadow."

Shen Yuhan chuckled, low and smooth. "Then perhaps I should stop walking at all. I wouldn't want to frighten the chickens."

Ah Zhu grunted, folding her arms. "I say let them talk. It's better they fear you than pity you. When people are afraid, they stop underestimating you."

"True," Shen Yuhan murmured, rolling the scroll back into its ivory ends. "But too much fear can turn to hatred. And hatred festers."

She rose, every movement precise and measured. Ming'er scrambled to help with her cloak, but Shen Yuhan stopped her with a glance.

"There's no need. We are just going to visit Madam Su. Since she was the one who spread the rumours, it should also be her who put an end on this."

Ah Zhu's eyes lit up. "You're finally going to confront her?"

"No." Shen Yuhan reached for the jade hairpin on the tray and slid it into her hair with a graceful twist. Her tone was composed, unhurried. "not to confront her. I'm going to thank her."

Ming'er and Ah Zhu stared.

Shen Yuhan tilted her head, lips curving with quiet mirth. "After all, she's given me quite the reputation. The possessed, cursed, haunted eldest miss. No one will dare approach me without trembling. Isn't that a gift?"

Ah Zhu blinked, then let out a dry laugh. "You're scarier than any ghost."

"Let's hope Madam Su thinks so too."

---

Half an hour later, Shen Yuhan arrived at the main courtyard, flanked by Ming'er and Ah Zhu. No fanfare, no loud announcement. Just the soft patter of shoes against stone pavement and the chilling silence that followed her wherever she walked now.

A servant outside the chamber bowed hastily and ran in to inform Madam Su.

Inside, the madam of the household sat before her bronze mirror, fingers curled around a jade comb as a maid worked on her hair. Her expression didn't change when she heard who had come—but her eyes, reflected in the glass, flickered with brief unease.

"She's here uninvited?"

"Yes, madam."

A pause. Then Su Wanning smiled coldly.

"Let her in."

---