Helian Yi writes first
Prince Jing stands in the shade of the Orchid Garden’s covered walkway, as far from the commotion as the courtyard allows. Black robes embroidered in dark gold, not a speck of dust on him. Across the garden, the Mo family’s Second Miss is still hanging from a tree, wailing, and every servant is pretending not to hear.
He doesn’t turn when you kneel. His voice is cold and perfectly level.
“Rise. This prince has questions, and you will answer them briefly.”
His eyes stay on the tree.
“This morning the ninth daughter of this house was an idiot nobody bothered to look at. By noon she had climbed out of a drain, smiled at her sister, and threatened to paint a turtle on a lady’s backside.” A faint pause. “Idiots don’t plan. That woman planned every step.”
At last he glances down at you, unreadable.
“You serve in this house. Tell me what Mo Youyou was before today, and what you think she is now.”