Recently, another new art shop opened in the city.
Although it only opened a few months ago, it seems to be doing very well—so well that anyone in De Lu with a bit of means has a painting from Fan Yin Ge hanging in their home.
Even some scholars have become regular patrons.
It is said that the paintings by a certain *xiansheng* at Fan Yin Ge are exquisite; the brushwork is just right—elegant and decisive. Though not overly elaborate, they are far from monotonous and are very captivating.
Besides selling paintings by that mysterious *xiansheng*, Fan Yin Ge also sells works by other famous painters.
They are not exceptionally precious, but certainly not ordinary either.
….
It was early spring, and the weak sun was not yet warm enough to dispel the chill of the gentle breezes.
Peach and plum blossoms bloomed profusely, painting a corner of the courtyard in shades of pink and white.
A few small birds perched on branches in pairs, chirping merrily, a pleasant sound.
The usual quiet atmosphere of the Fei family's Southern Courtyard was suddenly broken by a sweet, somewhat childish voice:
"Er Jie, look! I just bought a really beautiful painting!"
"Father will definitely love it, you'll see!"
The little girl, wearing a pink dress, her hair braided into two pigtails and adorned with a butterfly hairpin, smiled brightly, her eyes crinkling. She rushed into the courtyard, holding up the newly bought painting, her small mouth continuously calling "Er Jie."
She was Fei Bao Ran, the legitimate daughter of the Fei family, and the youngest daughter of Fei Yun Ting and his wife.
She was only 14, and would only come of age in early summer this year. Her personality was lively, innocent, simple, and very lovable.
This little beauty was the gem of the Fei family, doted on immensely by Fei Yun Ting. She was cherished like a precious egg, protected like a delicate flower, feared she might drop if held, feared she might melt if kept in the mouth.
Therefore, no one in the Fei family dared to offend her.
The "Er Jie" she called out was Fei Tian Niang, the second daughter of Old Master Fei.
She was not a legitimate daughter, but merely a daughter born to a concubine.
From an outsider's perspective, their relationship wasn't bad; they seemed very close.
Tian Niang sat quietly in the courtyard, playing chess by herself under a peach tree in full bloom.
The gentle spring breeze swept through her hair and the hem of her skirt, making them sway gently.
Her long, raven-black hair seemed to have a life of its own, intertwining with each other in the wind.
Her hair was loosely tied back in a half-updo, adorned with a few exquisite silver hairpins; the simpler style only accentuated her dignified and gentle beauty.
Her sky-blue silk chiffon skirt was also soft and flowing, swaying gently with the peach blossoms.
Hearing the call, she immediately looked towards the courtyard gate, her tender, clear-as-water eyes instantly filling with a smile, and the corners of her lips curving slightly upwards.
"I thought you were looking for me for something important. Turns out you bought a gift for Father?"
Fei Bao Ran's eyes curved into a smile, narrowing like crescent moons. "That's right! Er Jie, look, isn't this painting beautiful? I had to queue for a very long time to buy it.
My legs are almost falling off!"
"Did you queue by yourself?" Tian Niang glanced at the maid Li Wei behind her sister and said, half-jokingly, "Why does my intuition tell me that Li Wei was the one who queued?"
"Sister, don't tease me. Quickly, look at this painting first."
Tian Niang didn't say anything, just gave a wry smile, but as soon as she unrolled the painting, her expression changed.
Reflected in those clear-as-water eyes was an ink wash painting of the extremely familiar Yan Lu Mountain scenery.
It was no surprise; this was the painting she had just finished three days ago.
And yet it had caught the eye of this little girl.
It seemed Fan Yin Pavilion's business had been doing very well these past few days.
"How is it, Second Sister? It's wonderful, isn't it?"
"Mm."
"I'm planning to give it to Father. Do you think he'll be happy?"
"Of course he'll be very happy. Even if Fei Bao'er gave him a pebble, he would still be overjoyed, perhaps laughing so hard his beard would tremble."
Tian Niang looked at the painting, then at her younger sister's cheerful demeanor.
She remembered: what was she doing when she was fourteen?
She certainly didn't have a carefree, thoughtless demeanor, happy all day like Little Nhiên was now.
That's right, that winter she was still mourning her mother.
Even now, remembering it sent a piercing chill through her.
Unlike Fei Bao'er, even when she knelt before her mother's grave in the snow until she fainted, no one cared. If Min'er hadn't helped her back, she probably would have frozen to death that day.
Yet that person calmly spat out a few words: "Still not dead? What a tenacious life." Each word was colder than snowflakes, sharp as a knife, piercing the tender heart of an immature young girl.
That's right, it turned out she had never possessed such a simple, innocent demeanor, able to run and laugh with squinted eyes like this.
From childhood to adulthood, no matter what she did, she had to be careful and reserved, not daring to be boisterous. Even walking, she had to take small steps, never hurried or rushed, always ready to face the scrutinizing gaze of the Madam.
Oh no, she had to call her "Mother," right? Calling her "Madam" would surely lead to a scolding.
Even though that woman detested that form of address.
She thought, surely in a few more months, they would find a family and marry her off.
But she certainly wouldn't agree. For the past sixteen years, she had lived by reading the expressions of everyone around her. She was cautious, meticulous, always striving for perfection, even surpassing her eldest sister. There was no reason she couldn't be happy; no reason she should have to continue living the rest of her life by reading others' expressions.
She, Fei Tian Niang, did not want a life of lifelong dependence.
Even if she had no money, no home, no husband, it was fine. She only needed a life of freedom and peace.
To achieve that, she had to become even stronger, strong enough to escape her status as a concubine's daughter of the Fei family, to cut the chains binding her to the Fei family.
And Fan Yin Pavilion was her starting point.
"Second Sister, Second Sister..."
"Second Sister!"
"Hmm? What is it, Little Nhiên?"
"Hmph hmph!" Fei Bao'er puffed out her cheeks, looking angry. "Have you been listening to anything I've said just now? You've been staring blankly, I thought you'd gone stupid."
"No, I was listening."
"Only a ghost would believe that. I'm going home now, you can just stay there and space out by yourself."
Tian Niang gently reached out and brushed a small petal from her sister's hair. She didn't try to stop her, but just smiled faintly. "Alright then, you go on home."
Pouting, Fei Bao'er took the painting and returned to her small courtyard.
Her nimble steps still carried a hint of stubbornness, her two braids swaying back and forth.
Tian Niang sighed again, a wave of melancholy washing over her.
Her beautiful eyes, it was unclear if they held sadness, joy, or anger; they only appeared profoundly deep, carrying a hint of loss and sorrow.
"The paintings I draw, that person calls trash. So what if Little Nhiên takes my painting and gives it to that person?"
"That person might even laugh gleefully, constantly praising it as a 'masterpiece,' and perhaps even hang it in the study."
Thinking this, from the bottom of her heart, she couldn't suppress a bitter pang: "Even so, I'm still happy, because finally, that person acknowledges me. It's just not in the way I wanted."
“Miss, the wind is picking up, let’s go inside.”
Mẫn Nhi gently draped a red fox fur over her shoulders.
The warm sensation quickly enveloped her slender shoulders.
“I’m not cold.
Let me finish this game of chess first.
You go inside and prepare some fresh tea for me.”
“Well then… remember to keep yourself well-covered, don’t catch a chill.”
“Mm-hm.”
Although winter was over, the early spring wind was still very cold.
How could the cold of nature compare to the human heart?
She felt that this weather was still very warm, at least warmer than this place people called “home.”
Or rather, the bitter cold of heaven and earth kills a person quickly, but the bitter cold of the human heart not only torments one year after year, but also withers the soul, draining the vibrant vitality of adulthood. In the end, even if one is as beautiful as a flower or jade, they are nothing more than an empty shell.
An intact body, yet bearing a thousand wounds.