Chapter 111: A Clash of Words

As dawn broke after the night passed, An Yi sprang from her bed, draped herself in her outer robe, pushed open the window, and leapt gracefully out, landing lightly on the ground beneath. The backyard was planted with dozens of clusters of lush bamboo.

An Qinghe firmly believed the ancient saying: the phoenix would not perch without the parasol tree, nor eat without bamboo seeds. Hence, the front courtyard was adorned with parasol trees, and the backyard with bamboo.

An Yi stood amid the grove, centering her mind and regulating her breath. Her eyes lowered, she silently inhaled and exhaled, her qi concentrated in her dantian. She had not practiced martial arts for nearly a month since moving to the Pearl Pavilion. Aside from Fang Rong and three others, no one else was around, freeing her from the need to be cautious.

Once her mind was calm and breathing steady, An Yi began her exercises. Without a treasured sword, she practiced only her fists and kicks to loosen her muscles and bones. Perhaps due to the long hiatus, her moves were somewhat rusty. It was only by the sixteenth form that a trace of freedom and ease emerged. Her sleeves fluttered like flowing clouds, her palms struck like the wind, each step blossomed like a lotus; her motions were as fluid as drifting clouds and flowing water, as delicate as willows swayed by the breeze. It did not resemble martial training but rather a celestial maiden’s graceful dance beneath the moon.

Fang Rong, having risen early, heard the sounds from the backyard and approached quietly, watching An Yi practice without interruption.

After completing the thirty-six forms of the Carefree Palm technique, An Yi gathered her stance, feeling refreshed and invigorated in both body and mind.

“Miss,” Fang Rong approached, “why do you practice palm techniques instead of swordplay?”

Close-quarter combat skills such as fists and kicks were practical, but An Yi, being a young lady, found it inconvenient to spar with men.

“I have no sword, how could I practice swordsmanship?” An Yi smiled.

“I had hoped to witness your exquisite sword technique,” Fang Rong said with some regret.

An Yi’s sword skills were mediocre at best, far surpassed by her proficiency in unarmed combat. Yet she could not reveal this, so she laughed lightly, “Tell Tao Ren to prepare hot water; I must bathe.”

The mistress and maid returned inside. Xiang Qin and two others had just risen. Seeing An Yi return from outside, they were startled and quickly knelt in apology. “Mistress, we overslept and failed to wake you. Please punish us.”

“I rose early; it has nothing to do with you. Such a small matter need not be taken so seriously. Rise,” An Yi said kindly.

The three, having been with An Yi only briefly, did not yet know her temperament. Seeing her gentle manner and lack of blame, their hearts settled, and they stood.

“Tao Ren has asked the kitchen to send hot water. Mistress wants to bathe,” Fang Rong informed them.

Back in her chamber, Xiang Qin fetched clean clothes from the wardrobe. “Miss, please have a few more sets made. These are worn.”

An Yi glanced at the garments in Xiang Qin’s hands. “After breakfast, have the sewing room personnel come to the Well Fence Garden.”

“Yes,” Xiang Qin replied with a smile.

By the time An Yi finished her bath and changed, it was the hour of the Dragon. An Qinghe and his son had long since departed for the government offices. Lady Luo’s eyes were improving but she remained restless, rummaging through the house.

The four from the Yam household tried to stop her but failed. Just then, An Yi entered. “Miss, please come and persuade madam!”

“Mother, what are you doing?” An Yi asked.

“Xi’er, look, I found so much beautiful fabric in the chest. Pick two pieces; I will make clothes for you,” Lady Luo said happily.

“Mother, your eyes have only just recovered. You must rest and not overexert yourself,” An Yi seized the fabric from her. “For my clothes, let the sewing room handle it.”

Lady Luo said, “I want to make them myself.”

“When your eyes are fully healed, then we’ll talk,” An Yi returned the fabric to Yam. “Mother, I’m hungry. Is there any food?”

Hearing this, Lady Luo immediately abandoned thoughts of sewing and sent Hawthorn to fetch the warmed porridge and pastries from the kitchen.

Before An Yi could finish her breakfast, the steward’s wife rushed in, face pale with alarm. Seeing Lady Luo seated, she signaled An Yi with a glance, then bowed respectfully to both women.

“Mother, I’m full. I’ll go to the Shunyi Hall and return later to have lunch with you.” An Yi set down her chopsticks and strode out swiftly.

Outside the courtyard gate, the steward’s wife lowered her voice anxiously. “Miss, Madam Huang has brought people and broken in. They must have passed the second gate and are nearly at the Embroidery Courtyard.”

An Yi swiftly employed her lightness skill, darting toward the Embroidery Courtyard. Fang Rong’s lightness skill was superior, but she held back and followed closely.

They soon arrived at the courtyard entrance. Standing on the stone steps, An Yi said, “Fang Rong, lock the gate.”

Fang Rong produced a copper lock and secured the main door from outside.

After waiting two or three minutes, An Yi saw an angry, formidable middle-aged woman approaching, dressed in a camel-colored satin jacket embroidered with floral patterns, a deep blue skirt, her hair in a round bun adorned with a golden phoenix hairpin. Behind her were five or six older women wielding wooden sticks.

From afar, Madam Chang spotted An Yi standing on the stone steps. She looked about fourteen or fifteen, with skin whiter than snow and breathtaking beauty. Her attire was a half-worn white jacket with blue floral patterns over a white skirt, her hair tied in a hanging bun with a blue and yellow jade flower hairpin, and no other jewelry.

Though An Yi’s look was ethereal and refined, it was plain and simple, unlike the elaborate appearance expected of a wealthy young lady. Chang’s eyes flickered, her thoughts racing. It must be that Lady Luo, unwilling to lose favor, had bought this stunning little maid to help vie for attention.

Madam Huang’s father was lustful. To compete for favor, Madam Chang had willingly arranged several concubines for him, assuming Lady Luo was the same. Chang did not know An Yi and mistook her for a mere maid. However, her attendant Hongzhu recognized Fang Rong and stepped forward, pointing at her. “Madam, this is the one blocking me from seeing the third young lady.”

“Beat these two blind and foolish servants to death!” Chang shouted fiercely.

“Miss, don’t dirty your hands. Let me deal with them.” Before the words finished, Fang Rong had already acted.

The women Chang brought were ordinary servants, no match for Fang Rong. In the blink of an eye, Fang Rong incapacitated them all, tossing Hongzhu aside, who lay there like a toad.

Fang Rong spun back beside An Yi, clapped her hands, and smiled. “Miss, I hope my skills have not disgraced your teachings?”

An Yi understood Fang Rong’s intent but had no plan to fight Chang. Madam Huang was a concubine, able to scold and strike at will; Madam Chang was the official wife and could not be subdued by force—though underhanded tactics were another matter.

Chang gazed at the fallen servants, her face shifting dramatically. Fang Rong’s address of “Miss” revealed An Yi’s identity and that the An household was about to change, instigated by An Yi herself. Yet she found it hard to believe such a young girl could be so formidable. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“You brought people to barge into my home without knowing who I am? It seems you’ve come to the wrong place. Please take your people and leave quietly. Don’t make a scene in someone else’s house. I am generous and will overlook your rude intrusion without prior notice,” An Yi replied calmly.

“This is my daughter’s home. I came to see her. Why must I announce my visit? You insolent girl, showing no respect for your elders, not even bowing when you see them, and speaking harshly—no family upbringing at all!” Chang’s face darkened like still water as she scolded.

A cold glint flashed in An Yi’s eyes, and she smiled faintly. “I only recently returned home and do not know which elder you are, nor who your daughter is. Please, enlighten me.”

Chang, seeing An Yi feign ignorance, was furious. “I am the mother of the estate’s second madam, wife of the Right Vice Minister of War.”

An Yi’s smile vanished, replaced by a chill. “The only lady called ‘madam’ here is my mother. I’m afraid I don’t know any second madam. As for the Right Vice Minister’s wife, you are in the wrong place. Please leave at once.”

Madam Huang was a noble concubine, but no matter how precious, she remained a concubine. If the An family wished to show her respect, they might call her second madam, but An Yi would never grant her that honor. An Yi engaged Madam Chang only to use Huang’s concubine status to humiliate her, forcing the Huang family to lose face and cease their provocations. As for court affairs, An Yi trusted that once the princess’s household’s matters became public, the Huang family would not dare openly trouble An Qinghe and his son.

Seeing An Yi brusquely dismiss her guests again, Chang’s fury deepened. “You insolent girl! I am a fourth-rank imperial consort—”

“May I ask, Madam Huang, under what status do you come today?” An Yi interrupted, not waiting for an answer. “If you come as the Right Vice Minister’s wife, fourth-rank imperial consort, I shall treat you with due courtesy. Please be seated in the hall and have tea. I would not be rude even if you came uninvited. But if you come as the mother of Concubine Huang, I cannot receive you.”

Chang laughed bitterly at this. “My daughter is your father’s second wife. I come as a guest. How dare you refuse me? Such rudeness! The An family truly has poor manners!”

“Madam Huang, do your estate and the concubine’s family mingle like relatives? If so, you should report to the Censorate how Mr. Huang favors concubines over wives, blurring distinctions of rank and status,” An Yi said sharply, emphasizing the issues of principal wife and concubine, and legitimate and secondary offspring.

Madam Huang had been at the An household for over three months. An Qinghe and An Kang were busy with official duties, while An Jian was stationed at the military camp, unable to manage family affairs. Lady Luo, wracked with guilt over her daughter’s death, lacked the will and strength to govern the household. Thus, Madam Huang held sway in the rear quarters, acting as the principal wife.

Chang often sent people over, oblivious that her daughter was merely a concubine. Now realizing her intrusion was self-humiliating, she was speechless.

“Mother, mother, is that you?” Huang called from inside. Someone had informed her of Chang’s forced entry. Waiting in her room with no sign of Chang, she came out, but couldn’t leave. She called out through the door.

“Mei’er, it is I. I have come to see you,” Chang said, stepping forward but hesitant before Fang Rong’s prowess. She eyed the locked door. “Open the door for me.”

An Yi was about to speak when the steward’s wife ran over. “Miss, Lady Zheng from the Princess’s mansion has arrived.”

An Yi paused. Why was Zheng Yun here?

Regardless of the reason, Zheng Yun’s visit was good news for An Yi.

In moments, Zheng Yun, dressed in the uniform of a fifth-rank female official, approached. An Yi stepped forward to greet her. Zheng Yun stopped and bowed. “Your servant pays respects to Miss and offers salutations.”

Sent by the princess to tend to An Yi’s complexion, Zheng Yun, seeing Chang present, condescended graciously to the untitled An Yi, granting her much face.

Chang’s face turned grim. Zheng Yun was a person of the Princess Lan Yi, haughty and unapproachable. Yet she treated An Yi with respect. Since when had the An family allied with the Princess’s mansion? No wonder they dared to snub the Huang family.

An Yi returned the bow. “Lady Zheng, please take a seat in the hall.”

“Mother, mother, who is here? Has the Noble Consort sent someone?” Huang called anxiously.

Chang pursed her lips in silence.

Zheng Yun glanced at Chang, then from the invitation held by her maid, handed it with both hands to An Yi. “Miss, you have family matters to handle. I dare not delay you. I am here to deliver an invitation from the county lordess. In a few days, there will be a flower appreciation gathering at the mansion. You are invited to attend.”

“Mother, speak! Who is it?” Huang’s voice was low, muffled behind the door.

“The county lordess invites you. How could I refuse?” An Yi accepted the invitation with a smile. “I will see Lady Zheng out.”

“No need, Miss. Please stay. The steward’s wife will escort me out. When you have settled family affairs, come to the Princess’s mansion. Then we can talk properly,” Zheng Yun said with a smile.

Hearing this, An Yi nodded. “Steward’s wife, please escort Lady Zheng out. Lady Zheng, please take care.”

Zheng Yun’s brief visit and few words sent chills through Chang. The An family had clearly aligned with the Princess’s mansion. With such backing, it was no wonder they dared to disregard the Huang family.

“Mother, mother, are you still outside? Mother!” Huang called.

An Yi saw Chang’s stunned expression and said, “Fang Rong, open the gate.”

Fang Rong obeyed. Huang, hair disheveled, rushed out and threw herself into Chang’s arms. “Mother.”

Chang, who usually took great care with her appearance, saw her daughter’s red-rimmed eyes, unmade face, and haggard countenance. Her heart ached as she embraced her. “My child, you have suffered!”

An Yi watched the mother and daughter embracing, lips pressed in a smile. Though she wished to drive Huang away, she understood the law: only An Qinghe and Lady Luo could legally deal with Huang. An Kang would only gain authority after his father’s death, and only then over concubines who had borne no children.

An Yi had planned to let Chang visit several times before allowing her to see Huang. Zheng Yun’s arrival changed her mind. Yet she was uncertain if the plan would succeed. Chang and Huang were not foolish enough to fall into this trap. Seeing Huang rush out disheveled into Chang’s arms, the genuine tenderness on Chang’s face made An Yi quietly grateful for Huang’s cooperation. If Chang truly cared for her daughter and could not bear her suffering, she would take Huang back. Once Huang left the An home, returning would become exceedingly difficult.

“My poor child, stop crying. I am here; I will take care of everything,” Chang wiped Huang’s tears and helped her into the courtyard.

An Yi could not follow and frowned slightly.

“Miss, the sewing room personnel are waiting at the Well Fence Garden to make your clothes. Leave this to me,” Fang Rong smiled.

“Good. I entrust this to you,” An Yi said, relieved as she departed.