Chapter 9: Like I'd Be Scared of You?

Shi Shuyu and Yu Qinghe turned at the same time.

The morning light was perfect—spilling across the stone steps of the Su estate gates, illuminating the young woman who now emerged from within.

Su Ruan leaned on Lizi's hand, descending the steps one by one. Her cherry blossom skirt brushed the flagstones. The tourmaline hairpin at her temple caught the sun with every step, scattering ripples of color.

But what held the eye was her face.

Just the thinnest veil of rouge and powder, yet it drew out every ounce of vividness in her features. The faint displeasure in her expression only added a lively, petulant charm—vivid and real.

A world apart from her old, deliberate imitation of understated elegance.

Shi Shuyu's eyes went wide. For a moment, she forgot how to react. Even Yu Qinghe's gaze flickered.

"Ruan Ruan's here."

Yu Qinghe's gentle voice broke the brief silence.

Shi Shuyu snapped back to herself. A flash of discomfort crossed her face before her habitual haughtiness smothered it.

She lifted her chin, voice dripping with sourness.

"My, what an outfit... must've taken quite some effort, didn't it? No wonder you kept us waiting."

"All that trouble for nothing, if you ask me. Empty head, empty chatter—you'll just embarrass yourself at the banquet!"

Su Ruan reached them and raised an eyebrow.

"Whether I put in effort is none of your business. But you—standing at someone else's doorstep, running your mouth? Is that how they teach manners in the Minister of Rites' household?"

"Besides, I'll wear whatever I please. Who made you the fashion police?" She paused, gaze drifting. "Though you..."

She took half a step closer, letting her eyes drift casually over Shi Shuyu's new buttercup yellow dress.

"Dressed up all yellow-and-green like a freshly sprouted cabbage leaf. What, are you planning to serve yourself as a stir-fried side dish at the banquet? Give the guests a light snack between courses?"

Shi Shuyu's face twisted. "You—!"

"'You' what?"

Su Ruan didn't give her room to breathe. She lifted her chin.

"By rank, my father is a second-rank Grand General. Yours is a third-rank Minister. And you've still got the nerve to get passive-aggressive with me?"

She channeled the original Su Ruan's bratty entitlement—but with an extra edge of righteous bite.

"Aren't you afraid I'll throw my weight around?"

Shi Shuyu trembled with rage, eyes welling red. "Su Ruan! Don't get too full of yourself—"

As the two squared off, Yu Qinghe sighed softly and stepped between them.

"Enough. Both of you, enough."

She looked at Shi Shuyu. "Shuyu, Ruan Ruan is younger. Indulge her a little."

Then she turned to Su Ruan, tone unchanged. "Ruan Ruan, it's getting late. Don't keep Auntie waiting."

Su Ruan gave a soft huff and looked away.

Shi Shuyu shot Su Ruan a venomous glare, seized Yu Qinghe's hand, and marched off.

"Qinghe jiejie, ride in the front carriage with me! I'm not sharing with certain people!"

Su Ruan watched them go, then wrinkled her nose and pulled a face at Shi Shuyu's retreating back.

I might be scared of Yu Qinghe. But you?

She remembered the novel clearly. This Shi Shuyu had clung to Yu Qinghe's coattails from start to finish—on the surface, devoted best friend. In truth? She'd been quietly pining for General Shen Zhaoye the whole time.

Later in the story, she'd had her leg broken saving the heroine. And the heroine—playing the martyr—had pressured the male lead into taking Shi Shuyu as a co-wife.

Reading it back then, Jiang Luyi hadn't liked Shi Shuyu.

Not because she liked Shen Zhaoye—half the women in the book did. But because Shi Shuyu had her own agenda while wrapping it in the flag of "sisterly devotion." Wanting the saint's halo and the sinner's prize at the same time.

What baffled her more was how someone as clever as Yu Qinghe could make such a brain-dead decision—forcing her husband to marry her best friend? And Shen Zhaoye actually agreed?

Back then, Jiang Luyi had been so furious she'd written a two-thousand-word review demanding to know why the author insisted on this plotline. Wasn't a clean one-on-one sweet romance good enough?

Now, seeing Shi Shuyu's face in person, her dislike only deepened.

"Miss, shall we get in the carriage?"

Lizi's quiet reminder.

Su Ruan set aside her thoughts, took Lizi's arm, and climbed into the Su family carriage, sharing it with Qiu Wanrou.

Qiu Wanrou looked up, took in Su Ruan's vivid outfit, and her brow furrowed immediately.

"This getup is far too ostentatious."

"Today gathers the capital's finest young ladies. The aesthetic is fresh and refined. You, this gaudy—it looks deliberate. Trying too hard."

Su Ruan sat across from her, eyes downcast, saying nothing.

But inside, the complaints flowed freely:

These dresses and jewelry—you're the one who let me pick. The muted ones you wouldn't give me, the bright ones you call too flashy. So either way, I'm wrong, is that it?

I don't know if it's that everything about me offends you, or if you're just terrified I'll outshine your precious niece.

Relax. Yu Qinghe is the heroine with a protagonist halo. She'll be the center of attention wherever she goes. I'm just a little cannon fodder—dress me up as bright as you want, I'm still a background prop. What are you so worried about?

Su Ruan grumbled internally but kept her face blank, head bent, fiddling with her skirt hem.

Qiu Wanrou's tone sank another degree.

"When we arrive at the estate and meet the various ladies and their daughters, mind your words and observe proper etiquette."

"Don't carry on as you do at home. You'll make a fool of yourself and embarrass the Su family."

"Understood."

Su Ruan answered dully and turned to watch the street scenes blurring past the window. No energy to argue.

Qiu Wanrou watched her stubborn, impenetrable silence and felt a knot jam in her chest.

She gave up, closed her eyes to rest, and didn't look at her again.

The carriage rumbled on. About half an hour later, it stopped outside the Duke of Mu's country estate west of the city.

The estate's location was superb—backed by green hills, fronting clear water. In this spring season, the grounds were lush with blooming trees and flowers, a riot of color visible from afar.

The gate was grand. A plaque overhead read "Xiefang Garden" in bold, forceful calligraphy.

By the time the Su party arrived, many carriages already lined the approach. Servants in livery wove among them, directing guests.

As Qiu Wanrou led the three girls out of the carriage, a woman in a deep purple robe embroidered with peony vines, a kingfisher-feather forehead band on her brow, came forward with a warm smile.

"Wanrou! Finally—I've been waiting for you!"

It was Madam Wen Huaishu, wife of the Deputy Censor-in-Chief. She and Qiu Wanrou were childhood friends—"handkerchief friends" from before either had married.

"Sister Wen." Qiu Wanrou smiled and stepped forward, clasping Madam Wen's hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Between us? Please." Madam Wen laughed warmly, then let her gaze fall to the three girls behind Qiu Wanrou.

She looked first at Yu Qinghe and nodded approvingly. "Qinghe grows lovelier by the day. That poise—truly, a mind steeped in poetry shines through. She's a delight to behold."

Yu Qinghe dipped into a slight curtsy, smiling gently.

"Madam Wen is too kind."

Madam Wen smiled and made as if to help her up, then her eyes shifted—and landed on Su Ruan. They brightened visibly.

"My, it's been a while since I saw little Ruan Ruan—she's bloomed into such a beauty! I nearly didn't recognize her!"

She stepped forward, taking Su Ruan's hands and looking her up and down with open admiration.

"Just look at her—fresh and bright as the tenderest begonia on the branch. Absolutely adorable!"