Chapter 15:

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Shen Yuhan entered the chamber with the slow elegance of a noble daughter untouched by scandal, her every step unhurried, poised. The sunlight filtering through the carved lattice window painted golden patterns across the floor, casting her in a soft, almost ethereal glow. She bowed low, graceful as ever, her tone light and respectful.

"Greetings to Mother."

Su Wanning rose from her carved chair, smoothing the folds of her orchid-colored robe with practiced elegance. Her lips curled into a smile—a perfect arc painted by rouge and calculation. "Ah, Yuhan. How unexpected. I'd heard you were unwell. You've been keeping so very quiet."

"Unwell?" Shen Yuhan's brows lifted with gentle surprise, her tone light as if the thought itself were amusing. "Mother must have been misinformed. I've never been in better health."

She took a few steps forward, fingers idly brushing the rim of a celadon vase, her eyes flicking over the furnishings like a girl admiring her home. "I've been eating well, reading by the lamp, sleeping through the night. And when I find myself with time to spare, I sit beneath the osmanthus tree and brew tea. The scent of the blossoms is calming. It helps… clear the mind."

Su Wanning watched her closely, the silk of her smile taut with caution. She was waiting—for accusation, for complaint, for the inevitable demand to smother the rumors swirling through the estate like smoke. But instead, Shen Yuhan merely lowered her gaze, her voice softening to something nearly childlike.

"There was a time," she began, her thumb brushing the corner of her sleeve, "when I thought to come to you. To ask for guidance. I know I've been… unlearned, lacking in discipline. I wanted to ask if you'd teach me to manage the household. To read the accounts, to be useful to Father."

She drew a slow breath, her voice growing fainter. "But after what happened last time, I thought it best to remain quiet. I caused a disturbance, didn't I? I suppose I wanted too much."

Her head bowed slightly, and for a heartbeat, she looked like the helpless girl Su Wanning had so carefully painted her to be—hesitant, wounded, unsure of her place.

"I didn't want to trouble Mother again."

The silence that followed was heavy, crushing. Su Wanning's fingers tightened around the silken tassel at her waist, her lips parting, then closing again. Shen Yuhan had said nothing of the rumors. She had not accused her. She had not cried or shouted or pleaded.

And somehow, that restraint—calm, wounded, pure—felt far more dangerous than any tantrum.

"I… Yuhan," Su Wanning finally spoke, her voice touched with awkward warmth. "You've misunderstood. That was never my intent. You are the eldest daughter of this house. You've always been welcome to learn."

Shen Yuhan's eyes lifted slowly, dark and unreadable. "Am I?"

The words were so soft, they might've been missed entirely. "Sometimes," she added, "I wonder if anyone still remembers that."

Su Wanning's smile faltered. The weight of those words pierced deeper than any accusation. She laughed lightly, shakily, reaching for her composure like a woman grasping a fan in a storm. "What nonsense you speak, child. No matter what anyone says, you are the eldest daughter of the Shen family. No one can take that title away from you."

Only she knew how bitter those words tasted.

It should've been Yulan. Her precious daughter. The true young miss in everything but name. Every time she looked at Shen Yuhan, she saw the shadow of a woman she hated—the late Madam Lu, who had once stood above her in every way. And now, she was forced to soothe her daughter, swallow her pride, just to maintain balance in the household.

Fate could be cruel.

From beyond the half-open door, soft footsteps approached, then halted. Shen Yulan had come upon the conversation at its most galling moment. Her hand trembled at her side, nails digging into her palm as she stared at the woman who had always protected her—the mother who, just now, had acknowledged another girl as the rightful heiress.

Her lips thinned, but she was quick to recover. She stepped forward with all the grace of a blossoming spring bloom, the hem of her pale pink gown trailing behind like mist.

"Sister," she said with a voice like honeyed wine. "Mother is right, you shouldn't let baseless talk affect you. People gossip because they're bored."

She moved closer, brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve. "Even if the rumors were true…" she let out a light, almost playful laugh, "it wouldn't change anything. You're still the eldest daughter of this house."

There was no venom in her voice. None at all.

But the smile in her eyes was cold.

It said: Even if you still have the title, you've already lost your place.

Shen Yuhan's lashes fluttered. She tilted her head slightly. "Rumors?"

Shen Yulan blinked. "You… haven't heard?"

Su Wanning's hand stilled on her sleeve.

Shen Yuhan stepped forward, a subtle tremor in her voice. "What kind of rumors?"

She sounded almost frightened. Almost desperate.

Perfect.

Shen Yulan exchanged a glance with Su Wanning, who gave the slightest shake of her head.

Shen Yulan hesitated.

Behind her smile, something flickered—a faint twitch of the corner of her mouth, a tightening of her fingers where they clutched her sleeve. "Oh, nothing important," she said with a light, airy laugh. "Just nonsense from the servants. They say foolish things when they're idle. You know how people talk."

She stepped closer, almost as if to comfort. "You've been unwell, and then suddenly better again. Some people think too much. They say you've changed."

A pause.

"Some even say you've been… touched by something unnatural."

The words were spoken sweetly, delicately—but they landed like stones in the silence.

Shen Yuhan swayed faintly where she stood, her breath catching. For a moment, her eyes lost focus. Her fingers clutched the edge of her sleeve—tighter, tighter—knuckles whitening. She looked as if she might fall.

"Unnatural?" she whispered, voice thin. "They think I've been… possessed?"

A tremor visibly passed down her spine. She blinked, fast and shallow, as though trying to hold back frightened tears. Her lips parted, then closed again, uncertain.

Even Su Wanning looked taken aback. The image before her was not one of cunning or strength, but of a girl wounded by cruel gossip—wounded and frightened.

Then the door creaked.

A servant stepped in—Xiao Tao, red-faced and burdened with linens. She froze at the sight of all three women, nearly stumbling into a bow. "This servant—this servant didn't realize the madams were present. Forgive me—"

Shen Yuhan turned to her, the movement too quick, almost startled. "Xiao Tao… these rumors. Have you heard them too?"

Xiao Tao's eyes widened in horror. "I—Miss—"

"Please," Shen Yuhan said softly, her voice quivering. "Tell me what they say."

The maid hesitated, wringing her hands. "They say… th-they say the physician couldn't explain your illness. That you woke up speaking differently, walking differently… That your soul might've…" she trailed off, unable to finish.

The room spun for a moment. Shen Yuhan's knees weakened—just a step—but it was enough to make Su Wanning lurch forward on instinct, reaching to steady her.

"I…" Shen Yuhan blinked hard. Her voice was barely audible. "I didn't know. I thought— I've only been trying to be better. To learn. To—"

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, and quickly lowered her face to hide it. Her hands were trembling.

Su Wanning, thrown off, murmured, "Yuhan, don't listen to them. It's only superstition."

"But if they believe it…" Shen Yuhan looked up with wide, glistening eyes. "What will Father think? What will the court think? If people start to believe I'm not myself…"

She didn't finish.

Instead, she turned to Su Wanning—timid, pleading. "Mother… you believe me, don't you?"

Su Wanning hesitated for the briefest of moments. "Of course I do."

Shen Yuhan's lashes lowered, her voice small. "Then help me."

She glanced at Shen Yulan, then quickly looked away, as if ashamed to even suggest what she was about to say.

"Help me prove I'm still myself. That nothing's wrong with me. If the servants believe such things, they won't stop until I'm no longer welcome even at my own father's table."

It was a plea wrapped in fragility, but every word carried weight.

She was pushing them into a corner.

Su Wanning saw it. Shen Yulan saw it.

But to deny her now—to refuse her this—would be the same as admitting they believed the rumors. And if word of that got out…

"Of course," Su Wanning said at last, slowly. "We'll… make things clear."

Shen Yuhan bowed her head deeply, hiding the faint curve of her lips..