Paper Faces and Hollow Rooms

The pendant glowed faintly in the dark, the cinnabar thread inside catching what little light the oil lamp offered. Bai Ningwei didn't touch it.

It sat in a lacquered box beside her sleeping mat, heavy not from weight, but meaning. A gift from Old Madam Bai, disguised as sentiment. In truth, a leash. Or a challenge.

The System hadn't spoken since yesterday, not even a sarcastic [Congratulations].

She suspected it was waiting for her to make a mistake.

Across the room, Yuling folded a set of freshly laundered robes with all the devotion of a shrine maiden. Her face was calm, obedient. Too calm. Too obedient.

Most girls would sneak glances. Speak, eventually. Try to please their mistress.

Yuling didn't try anything. That was the problem.

Ningwei watched her from the mirror's reflection. "Do you always work in silence, or is it just around corpses?"

Yuling froze for a second. Then resumed folding. "You're not a corpse, miss."

"Oh? I heard the kitchen maid bet two copper coins I'd be dead again by next week."

"She'll lose the bet."

"How confident."

Yuling finally turned to look at her, a quick glance, neutral. "I don't serve corpses."

Ningwei raised a brow. That almost sounded like loyalty.

Or a well-rehearsed lie.

She didn't answer. Instead, she stood and crossed to the window. Outside the Bai residence simmered with the quiet of morning rituals. Maids swept stone courtyards. Boys in pale robes ran from hall to hall. Somewhere, a wife was already yelling at someone beneath her station.

Routine. Ceremony. Survival.

She turned away from the view and said, "Prepare tea. Then bring me my mother's old things. If they weren't burned."

Yuling hesitated. "They're stored in the west wing."

"Then bring them from the west wing."

A beat of silence. "That area is closed to lower servants."

"And you?"

"I suppose I'm an exception."

Good girl. Go spy for me, she thought. And spy on me while you're at it.

Ningwei returned to her desk. The notes from Old Scholar Lin were spread across the surface, weighted at the corners with chipped jade pieces. She reread the names, the half-written accusations, the list of herbs.

Then, with a steady hand, she wrote a new question at the bottom:

Who benefits from a sickly daughter's quiet death?

An hour passed.

Yuling returned with a wrapped bundle in her arms, dust clinging to the corners. Ningwei took it without comment.

Inside: a small comb with missing teeth. A handkerchief embroidered with two faded characters - Ning and Mei. And at the very bottom, a pressed flower, dry and fragile.

Ningwei turned the flower in her fingers.

"Did she plant this?" she asked without looking up.

Yuling didn't pretend not to understand. "In the old garden, yes. But the soil was poor. It didn't last."

Ningwei placed the flower down carefully and stood. "Show me the garden."

The old garden was tucked behind a crooked corridor, half-forgotten. Shrubs had overgrown the paths. The stone lanterns were chipped, one missing a top entirely. But in the far corner, a few pale green shoots peeked from beneath cracked tiles.

"Someone's been trimming the edges," Ningwei said.

Yuling nodded. "Old Madam ordered it. After the burial."

Interesting.

She stepped over a vine, knelt, and traced a finger through the soil.

Too damp. Too soft. Someone had dug here recently.

She pulled back, brushing off her hands. "No one visits?"

"No one dares. Except the gardener."

"And you?"

Yuling shrugged. "I'm very obedient, miss."

Of course you are.

That evening, she returned to her room with dirt still under her nails. Yuling brought her hot water and a quiet update on the household:

"Second Madam's son is being sent to study in the capital. Third Wife broke another mirror. Bai Ruolan practiced calligraphy for three hours."

"Do you always report like this?" Ningwei asked.

"I thought you might like to know what you missed while away."

There it was again - the strange, flat tone that wasn't quite mockery, but wasn't innocent either. Ningwei didn't know what to make of it.

She nodded once, then added a name to her scroll:

Bai Ruolan - diligent, patient. Poisoner?

Underneath, she added:

Yuling - spy. Polite.

Night fell thick and silent. As she prepared to sleep, the System's presence returned - a low flicker in her mind, like a candle that couldn't decide whether to go out or flare.

[Soul Token Progress: 6%]

[Status: Observing.]

[Warning: Emotional Deviation Detected.]

She lay on her mat, staring at the ceiling.

"There's no emotion to deviate from," she said aloud. "This isn't even my life."

The System didn't respond. It never argued.

From the box beside her, the pendant glinted faintly, pulsing with soft red light - like a heartbeat remembered.

By dawn, the questions had multiplied, and Ningwei was already halfway to deciding which one of her "sisters" deserved to fall first.

But she'd learned to be patient. Even predators had to play dead sometimes.

Especially when they weren't supposed to be alive.

[Investigation Progress: 12%]

[Next Task: Learn the rules. Watch the players.]