The Concubines Came to Greet Me

The next morning, Adrian left early for court.

My maid Mira lifted the curtain and entered, whispering,

“Madam, Concubine Lin and Concubine Liu have come to greet you.”

She hesitated.

“They look unfriendly. Should I send them away?”

Mira was loyal, but timid.

Fortunately, I was still able to protect her.

For now.

I patted her hand.

“Let them in.”

Since the concubines were so eager to perform respect, how could I, the new mistress, be rude?

I ordered breakfast set in the courtyard.

Lydia Liu arrived first.

Slender waist.

Proud chin.

A chest she seemed determined to weaponize.

Selene Lin followed quietly, dressed in pale colors, eyes lowered, face gentle enough to deceive a temple statue.

I smiled.

“You both entered the household before me. I should call you elder sisters. I hope you will not take offense.”

They exchanged a glance.

The entire capital knew Clara Su was difficult.

Impulsive.

Sharp-tongued.

Unpredictable.

They had clearly expected trouble.

Lydia recovered first.

“What offense could there be?” She sat down with a smile and even tugged Selene beside her. “We do know the general’s preferences better than you. Ask anything you like.”

I looked at her.

My sister’s letters had mentioned Lydia only briefly.

Beautiful, shameless, loud. Not worth fearing.

But she had also written that after the wedding night, Adrian spent most nights in Lydia’s room.

The whole household believed he favored her.

Every night, music. Laughter. The kind of sounds servants remembered and repeated.

I lifted my cup.

“Adrian and I grew up together. If not for certain accidents, we would have married years ago. His preferences do not require explanation.”

Lydia’s smile stiffened.

Selene said nothing.

Her fingers moved lightly over the chopsticks as if the quarrel had nothing to do with her.

That calm bothered me.

So I turned to her.

“Selene, I heard you are the daughter of the Imperial Medical Academy’s Director Lin. Even as a concubine-born daughter, you could have been a proper wife elsewhere. Why become a concubine here?”

At the word concubine-born, her pupils shrank.

Only for a moment.

Then her handkerchief rose delicately to her lips.

“The general is a hero. To serve such a man, even as concubine, is willingly done.”

“Willingly?” I repeated. “Or because you had other hopes?”

Her fingers tightened.

My sister had written more about Selene.

She never shows anger. She implies, never accuses. She cries at the perfect time. Whenever she makes a mistake, somehow I become the one at fault. She is estranged from her natal family. I do not know why. Be careful.

Be careful.

My sister was dead.

Careful had arrived too late.

The day my sister’s maid staggered into my courtyard, her clothes were soaked in blood.

She crawled more than walked.

In her arms, she clutched a letter.

“Second Miss,” she gasped, forcing the letter into my hand. “It was Adrian Shen. He… wronged…”

She died before finishing.

That same day, the Shen household sent word.

My sister, Evelyn Su, had hanged herself.

The official examiner called it suicide.

I paid him enough to hear the truth.

“She was strangled first,” he whispered, face pale. “Then hung from the beam.”

Someone in the Shen household had bought his silence.

Who else had that power?

Adrian.

My Adrian.

Or the man who had replaced him.

I returned to the present just as Lydia snapped,

“You are amusing, Madam. You also came willingly to replace your dead sister. Why act superior to us?”

“Lydia,” Selene murmured, eyes already filling with tears. “Madam surely did not mean—”

Right on cue, footsteps sounded.

Adrian entered.

Lydia rushed into his arms.

“General, now that the household has a proper mistress, will you abandon us?”

Selene lowered her head and let a single tear fall.

Excellent.

If they joined an opera troupe, they could earn ten years of silver.

Adrian pushed Lydia away.

“The capital received a new shipment of fabrics. Go choose what you like.”

Lydia froze.

Selene looked up.

“General…”

“Go.”

He did not look at either of them.

He walked to me.

“Clara,” he asked softly, “did they wrong you?”

I turned my face away.

The sight of his concern hurt more than their malice.

Because some traitorous part of me still knew how to recognize it.