From that day forward, Hua Rui returned to the manor—but the shadows had shifted.
She was watched at every corner. The maids whispered.
The concubine smiled too sweetly. Her half-siblings eyed her like a.
But Hua Rui played her part well.
She sat where she was told. Spoke only when addressed.
Smiled when insulted.
She helped her mother with accounts, walked in the gardens as expected, and bowed to the General like a proper daughter.
But beneath it all… she was biding her time.
She knew Lin Yue would not rest.
She knew Ruolan's pride would not let her forget.
And she knew the real world—the one outside these painted halls — would not stop turning just because they had returned.
Returning to the General's Manor wasn't like stepping into a home — it was stepping into enemy territory.
Though the Emperor's decree forced the doors open, it couldn't force hearts to change.
The servants still whispered in corners. Lin Yue's maids would turn up their noses when they saw Hua Rui pass by in the courtyard, and some would "accidentally" spill water at her feet when she walked too close.
But Hua Rui never flinched.
She'd lift her robes calmly, step over the spill, and continue walking with her head slightly bowed. The same soft, unreadable smile on her face.
That was what angered Gu Ruolan most.
"She's mocking me," Ruolan said one evening in her courtyard, clenching her porcelain cup so tightly it cracked. "She thinks staying quiet makes her better than me."
"You must calm down," Lin Yue said gently, placing a hand over hers. "The manor is different now. We must be smart. Let her think she's safe here."
"Safe? Mother, she's already sitting at Father's tea table with her mother! That's my place!"
"Then take it back. Not with anger. With tactics."
Ruolan's eyes gleamed.
"You mean… make her slip."
Lin Yue smiled thinly.
"Everyone stumbles eventually, child. Especially the ones who pretend to walk on water."
...
In the east wing, Xiao Lan watched her daughter help fold linens as the sun filtered in through the windows.
"You don't have to do this, Rui'er," she said. "The maids are paid for it."
"If I do it myself, no one can sabotage it," Hua Rui said calmly, pressing the fabric smooth.
"The last maid folded the bedding with sharp needles tucked inside."
Xiao Lan stiffened.
"What? Did you get hurt?"
Hua Rui looked up with that same soft smile.
"No. I saw it first."
"You need to tell your father."
"He would say it was an accident," she replied, voice quiet. "Just like everything else they've done."
Xiao Lan said nothing. She hated how right her daughter was.
"But don't worry," Hua Rui said, setting the linen down. "They can pretend to play fair. I've learned to play quietly too."
...
Later that week, a formal tea gathering was hosted in the main hall to welcome back Madam Xiao Lan. The wives of other generals were invited.
Lin Yue, of course, dressed herself and her daughter extravagantly — pearls, lavender silks, jasmine scent in the air.
Hua Rui wore soft blue, simple and understated, but when she walked in beside her mother, the room stilled. The light caught her face just right — and though she wasn't decked in gold, something about her presence pulled attention like a tide.
Ruolan felt the shift immediately.
"Oh my," one of the noble ladies whispered. "Is that the elder daughter? She's grown into quite the beauty."
"Much more graceful than I expected."
Ruolan's smile froze.
Lin Yue pretended not to hear, but her fingers pressed tighter around her fan.
The entire gathering passed with soft barbs disguised as compliments.
"Ruolan plays the guqin so beautifully — what about you, Miss Hua Rui?"
"I've only learned a little," she replied humbly.
"Oh, so modest. We must hear you play someday."
"Of course," Hua Rui said, "Though I'm afraid I can't compete with my younger sister's brilliance."
And yet, somehow… the noblewomen looked more intrigued by her than her glittering, confident half-sister.