Mei went back to the Duke's estate. She floated from one side to the other, with Ling'er following her.
Everything seemed okay.
The servants were continuing their work like nothing had happened—as if the Duchess of the estate hadn't been drowned just the day before. It was like she never existed at all.
She entered the hall, where her mother-in-law and the princess were seated, having tea after breakfast. They looked so close, laughing softly. Sitting next to them, with that same soft smile on his face, was the Duke.
The Madam teased the princess, and she blushed, acting coy. The whole scene looked peaceful and sweet—such a sharp difference from how things had been with Mei.
Her mother-in-law treated her terribly. She would nitpick and curse her ancestors just for the smallest things, always calling her dumb for no reason.
Despite being the daughter-in-law for three years, the Madam never trusted her with managing the estate. And because of that, the servants looked down on her too.
When the engagement to the emperor failed, and she was betrothed to the Duke, what Mei looked forward to most was having a mother-in-law she could treat as her own since she had lost her mother at a young age.
But on the very first morning after she arrived, her mother-in-law showed her otherwise.
During the tea ceremony, Mei had woken up very early to serve her mother-in-law, just like tradition required. She made the tea, brought it to the Madam, and knelt beside her to offer the cup.
The Madam didn't take it. Instead, she kept pretending to have a conversation with the Duke, ignoring Mei completely. She left her kneeling there until Mei's knees were in pain.
What broke her more was that her husband—the same man whose wedding they had just consummated the night before—said nothing.
"Oh, sorry," the Madam finally said with a fake smile.
"When I talk to Feng'er, I get so absorbed I forget you were offering me tea."
Mei could hear the sarcasm in her voice, but she was helpless. She just offered the tea again and stood up. In the corner of her eye, she saw her mother-in-law set the cup down without even taking a sip.
That was the start of three years of mistreatment and disrespect.
She always wondered why they had accepted her into the family if they had no intention of ever treating her like part of it.
But all of that was nothing compared to what came after she gave birth to a stillborn baby.
Instead of mourning with her, they blamed her—and said she couldn't even give birth properly. They taunted her instead of comforting her. After that, even the smallest courtesies disappeared.
She wasn't allowed to leave the estate. Her rooms became a prison. The rest of the capital was told she was "too sick" to participate in social activities.
From then on, Mei became a shell of her former self.
She stopped hoping. She stopped caring. She just sat and stared at nothing, day and night, forgetting time altogether. And that's when her mother-in-law got rid of her servants and fully took control of her.
The laughter of the Madam and the princess brought Mei back to the present.
She looked at them, wondering if her life would have been different if she had given birth to a healthy baby. Slowly, she stroked her stomach, looking at the three people responsible for the miserable life she had lived—and the horrible death she had died.
"When will the announcement be made?" the Madam asked, catching both Mei and Ling'er's attention.
"I'll speak to His Majesty today and ask him for an edict," the Duke replied.
"Will it not be too early?" the Madam asked carefully.
"We finally got rid of that unlucky bastard. I don't want any rumours tainting your reputation," she added, stroking the princess's hair lovingly.
"She's talking about you," Ling'er whispered to Mei.
"They can't seriously be planning a wedding before your body even rots?"
But Mei stayed quiet, just watching the three of them.
"The edict will take at least a month since His Majesty needs to send a letter to Diguo to get the Emperor's permission for Hua'er's hand," the Duke said.
"I'm sure by then, she'll be long forgotten."
"Madam, I'm happy to finally become your daughter," the princess said, leaning her head on the Madam's shoulder.
"Silly, call me Mother," Madam Xu replied, patting her hand. Then she looked at her son.
"Be careful. Go."
Mei and Ling'er stood frozen, looking from the mother to the son and the princess.
They had already known they were cruel—they had seen it clearly the day before. But the fact that they had not even an ounce of regret and were already planning a wedding showed just how heartless they really were.
"He acts like he's some kind of prize," Ling'er muttered, shaking her head.
"Given his appearance, and how horribly he performs—what does she even see in him?"
She glanced at the princess with a look of disbelief.
Mei turned to Ling'er and smiled. Somehow, Ling'er had a way of making even the darkest moments a little lighter. And right now, the only reason Mei was able to stay calm—to keep breathing—was this strange, unlikely friendship.
It was like Ling'er understood just how broken she was. She hadn't left her side since she became a ghost—except, obviously when she was off watching the emperor shirtless.
Maybe Ling'er was a gift from the heavens. Maybe someone up there had felt sorry for Mei and sent her this one bit of kindness.
"Let's go. Let's follow him," Ling'er said, dragging Mei along as they floated after the Duke on his way to the palace.
They reached the palace and went straight to the Hall of Virtue—the emperor's throne room.
As soon as they entered, Mei saw many ghosts gathered there. They floated around the room, staring at the emperor in awe—most of them women.
"You know, he attracts ladies—both dead and alive," Ling'er said, sighing.
"I keep chasing them away so they don't mess up his yin."
As soon as Ling'er stepped in, the other ghosts noticed her and scattered in all directions. Mei realized this must be something that happened often.
She looked up to see the current Emperor of Da Long, sitting tall on his golden throne, and she was stunned.