In the Imperial Gardens, four courtiers walked along a path between plum blossom trees. Upon closer inspection, their formation revealed a subtle social scale where three of them revolved around a single courtier at the centre whose radiant beauty transcended her plain white dress. It was non other than Meng Fan, the current top lady of Kunning, accompanied by her posse.
"Isn't the weather lovely today?"
"Look—a pretty butterfly!"
"It's perfect for a walk..."
"Hmph!" Meng Fan harrumphed, turning up her nose. "What's so pleasant about this heat? My hair is sticking to my neck, and there's this incessant buzzing..."
Instantly, her followers changed their tune.
"Yes... Some shade would be nice."
"What about resting at that pavilion over there?"
"Agreed." The third courtier hesitated and added, "I don't hear any buzzing, though..."
"Perhaps it is your leader's personality that attracts bugs," a fifth voice interjected. "After all, no one but her is complaining about 'buzzing'."
Meng Fan swivelled around, eyes narrowing at the sight of the collected figure taking measured steps here.
"Qiu Rong," she sneered.
In contrast, Qiu Rong inclined her head in a flawless, graceful greeting. "Young Lady Meng."
"Stop faking politeness." Meng Fan rolled her eyes. "Aren't you tired all the time?"
"Not as tired as Young Lady Meng, ardently forming factions these past few weeks," Qiu Rong smiled condescendingly. "I wonder: do you need so many allies to fend off those you offend? Or is it so the crowds may better part for your entourage?"
Meng Fan's chest heaved, a tell-tale precursor to losing her temper. One of her lackeys noticed and hurriedly stepped in. "Young Lady Qiu, may I know what you are doing here?"
Qiu Rong eyed her in derisive mock-surprise. "Oh my, I was unaware I needed permission to be in a public garden."
The lackey winced. "My apologies, that wasn't what I meant."
"What are you apologising to her for?" Meng Fan said at the same moment Qiu Rong replied sagely, "The company you keep indeed affects cognitive abilities."
Meng Fan's eyes widened. "Are you implying I'm stupid?!"
"You aren't entirely hopeless, after all."
"Why, you— Qiu Rong!!!"
Before the situation could escalate, a newcomer arrived.
She had a fair countenance, with a delicate frame and innocent doe eyes that inspired protectiveness. The ends of her hair fluttered in the breeze, secured by a long white ribbon—simple and pure.
She curtseyed slightly. "Greetings, Young Lady Meng and Young Lady Qiu."
"And what are you butting in for?" Meng Fan snapped. Then she pursed her lips. "...Who are you again?"
Jiang Ya'er lowered her eyes, veiling the hatred in them.
"My name is Jiang Ya'er. I accidentally stepped on your hem on our first day here..." she started tentatively. "Ever since, I have had trouble sleeping, tormented by the trouble my mistake must have caused you."
"You seem to be doing fine to me," Meng Fan remarked.
Jiang Ya'er stiffened. "That is... My physical wellbeing is unrelated to the emotional suffering I underwent over my mistake."
"And how is that my problem?" Meng Fan crossed her arms.
At this point, Qiu Rong, who was relegated to the background, had to stifle a laugh.
'Jiang Ya'er, was it? Interesting.'
Jiang Ya'er sucked in a deep breath and bowed deeply. "Young Lady Meng, please accept this humble gift as an apology! It's the best rouge I own, and I believe it would amplify your beauty far more than mine."
Meng Fan's silence was deafening. She could feel the other courtiers' eyes on her—mocking, arrogant, teasing, and indifferent. Still, she pushed on.
Meng Fan must not leave empty-handed today.
"It— It was bought from Verdant House, the best cosmetic store in the capital. See? It even has their signature tulip carving." Jiang Ya'er pointed at the compact's pattern desperately. "I spent all of my monthly allowance on it... Ah! That is not to say I've used it before, but I hope you accept my sincerity anyway, since you were magnanimous enough to overlook my insolence that day."
"Young Lady Meng should just accept it," Qiu Rong tittered. "Courtier Jiang went through so much trouble to procure the cosmetic, and her earnestness is most moving... Surely your... magnanimousity entails relieving her of such a beautifying apology gift?"
At this, Meng Fan reacted. She gave Qiu Rong a slow, deliberate once-over, the superiority in her gaze blinding.
"Young Lady Qiu should be more concerned about your own face," she sniffed. "You are past the age of blossoming."
Qiu Rong subconsciously touched her cheek. She was only eighteen to Meng Fan's fifteen...
Meng Fan promptly snatched the compact from Jiang Ya'er and stuffed it into her hands.
"As for this this 'rouge from Verdant House', Young Lady Qiu should have it," Meng Fan smirked. "You clearly need it more than I do."
***
Qiu Rong's room. Evening.
"...and then she— Rong Rong, are you listening?"
Qiu Rong blinked, and the silver compact with a tulip carving came into focus.
Ding Meng Meng's voice gradually returned to her ears, but her words prickled.
"By the way, what rouge do you use? It really flatters your complexion."
Her breath hitched.
Meng Fan's ridicule from earlier in the day rang in her hears, overlapping with Ding Meng Meng's habitual flattery.
Young Lady Qiu should be more concerned about your own face.
You need it more than I do.
And then those words from her family.
Who should represent the Qiu Duchy in the consort selection?
Rejection.
Rong'er isn't exactly suitable...
Consolation.
Rong'er, you must understand... To a woman, her face is everything, but you really...
Yet never acceptance. Not unless she was their only choice left.
All. Because. Of beauty.
'Or your lack thereof,' that pesky voice whispered. It sounded like herself and her mother and her aunt and Meng Fan all at once.
Qiu Rong slid the compact towards Ding Meng Meng, letting it scrape the table roughly. "You can have it."
"Really? I wouldn't want to—"
"Just take it!" Qiu Rong rubbed her temple. "I feel a headache coming up."
"Then..." Ding Meng Meng gingerly picked up the compact. "Thank you, Rong Rong. Have a good rest."
"I will."
All the way back to her dorm, Ding Meng Meng admired the silver compact from this angle and that, blissfully unaware of the retribution wrapped in a seemingly harmless gift.