Chapter Three-The One Behind the Curtain
922 Words
In early spring at Trường Ninh, the snow had yet to melt when the drizzling rain returned.
The plum tree outside Nhược Mai’s courtyard began to bud. But in the air lingered something… quietly changed.
Lately, the herbs in the storeroom had been replaced.
It was Hứa Dao, the maid closest to Nhược Mai, who discovered it first. She secretly examined the daily remedies used by her mistress—from lung tonics to beauty teas—and found they had been switched for cheaper versions, tainted with unfamiliar notes.
“Miss… if you take this for long, it’ll harm your liver and blood…”
Hứa Dao’s voice trembled, her face pale as she clutched the herbs in her hand.
Nhược Mai’s expression did not change. She merely lowered her gaze and gently blew the dust from the lid of the box.
“Give it to Trạm Dư. Tell him… burn it.”
Hứa Dao startled.
“You won’t look into who’s behind this?”
Nhược Mai shook her head slowly.
“Little fish never swim alone.”
Three nights later, the lanterns outside the lady’s quarters extinguished at the second watch.
A shadow silently climbed to the roof.
In hand—an old medicine box, the same kind Tố Yến drank from nightly.
That familiar scent made his brows knit.
No mistake. It was the same. Exactly the same as the concoctions Nhược Mai had nearly taken these past weeks.
“One blow, two victims…”
“Both young mistresses… were being fed the same poison?”
Trạm Dư did not believe this was Tố Yến’s doing.
For a girl like her—wicked, perhaps—but never foolish. If she meant to harm another, she would not use something that had passed through her own hands.
Then who…
“Lady Chu?”
The next morning, rumors spread quickly:
The lady of the household had fallen ill.
Hứa Dao came rushing back to Nhược Mai’s quarters, her face torn between confusion and suspicion.
“She’s coughing terribly… even fainted. The General has summoned the royal physician…”
Nhược Mai remained composed.
“Let’s see… how she entraps herself this time.”
Three days later, misfortune arrived.
A maid from Nhược Mai’s court was caught hiding talismans beneath Lady Chu’s pillow.
The accusation: witchcraft—casting spells on the stepmother.
Furious, the General ordered an interrogation of all maids from the major courtyards.
That day, the sound of whips echoed through the rear halls.
Several handmaids were beaten until their bones cracked. Only Hứa Dao remained untouched—for she was the one who discovered the spell.
But Nhược Mai knew well:
Hứa Dao wasn’t the one.
Yet someone was framing both her and Hứa Dao in this snare.
How?
Simple.
Just a single order to strike Hứa Dao… and no one in this courtyard would ever remain loyal again.
But Trạm Dư had moved first.
That night, the medical ledger of the General’s Mansion disappeared.
Hours later, the full list of prescriptions—from the Lady to each young mistress—was in Nhược Mai’s hands.
She read in silence, her eyes scanning each line.
Until she stopped at a page, old and stained with ink:
“Last month, Lady Chu used: White Atractylodes, Dendrobium, Ginseng…”
A faint smile curved her lips.
At dawn, Nhược Mai came to the main hall of her own will.
She knelt and bowed three times before Lady Chu—now pale, lips cracked, coughing blood.
“This unfilial daughter… has caused Lady to be wrongly accused.”
The whole court fell silent. Even the General.
“I… do not blame you…”
Lady Chu covered her mouth, blood glistening at the corner of her lips.
“I only ask… that Dao Nhi take the punishment in your stead… it’s already too much…”
“For Lady to say such… is a grace.”
Nhược Mai raised her head. Her gaze calm as still water.
“But the herbs Lady has used these past months… carry the same trace as those found in my storeroom. If compared… it may be difficult to explain.”
Lady Chu’s face darkened.
“You…”
“I, too, feel sorrow. That’s why… I had the list sent into the palace.”
“I’ve asked the court physicians to determine the truth on the household’s behalf.”
The air in the room stiffened.
The guards looked at each other.
“Madam… this matter…”
The General frowned.
“You… really did this?”
Nhược Mai did not answer.
She stood slowly, dusted the sleeve of her robe with grace.
“If Lady is unafraid of injustice… then let the court decide.”
That night, Lady Chu ate nothing. Spoke not a word. Locked herself away, ordering the destruction of all medicinal records in her ward.
The General said nothing.
Because even he knew:
His daughter… was no longer the obedient girl she once was.
Near midnight, the spring drizzle continued.
Trạm Dư sat alone by the firewood shed, fingering a strand of prayer beads long tucked away.
He had once thought to remain behind her forever—a silent shield in the shadows.
But tonight, as he watched her stand alone against the entire household, he understood:
“There are some… who need not be protected.”
“They need someone strong enough… to walk beside them.”
He clenched the beads in his hand, gaze fixed toward Nhược Mai’s quarters—
where the lights still burned deep into the night.
- Writer
