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The physician, either unaware or wisely pretending not to notice the thick tension in the room, gave a respectful bow. "Then I shall take my leave, Madam Su, Eldest Miss. I'll have the herbs delivered to Orchid Pavilion within the hour."
Su Wanning gave him a brief nod, her face composed, though her fingers curled tightly around the armrest of her chair. "Thank you, Physician Li. You've been thorough."
As he exited with the incense holder wrapped carefully in silk, silence settled over the room like a heavy shroud. Only the faint crackle of the incense brazier remained, slowly waning now that the source of hallucinations had been identified.
Shen Yuhan turned back toward Shen Yulan with a look of tender affection, the kind that made one's skin crawl when paired with her tone. "You know, I read a tale the other day about a young lady haunted by ghosts after speaking ill of her elder sister. Pure fiction, of course… but it's strange how tales reflect life, isn't it?"
Shen Yulan's jaw tensed. "You think this is funny?" she hissed, low enough that only Shen Yuhan and her mother could hear. "You humiliated me. You made me look like a fool in front of the entire household."
"I would never," Shen Yuhan replied, placing a gentle hand to her chest, eyes wide in mock offense. "I've done nothing but worry for you. And now, I'm even more concerned. Who would mix such incense into your chamber? Such cruelty… it must be investigated."
Su Wanning's sharp gaze flickered up. "Indeed," she said coolly. "The servants will be questioned."
"Ah, yes," Shen Yuhan agreed cheerfully. "We must get to the bottom of it. And if it turns out to be some lowly maid with a grudge, we should be… thorough with punishment. Poisoning incense is practically attempted harm. Who knows what could've happened if Physician Li hadn't discovered it?"
Ming'er, standing behind her mistress, lowered her head to hide the curve of her lips. Ah Zhu calmly examined a painted screen as if admiring its brushwork, but her shoulders quivered ever so slightly.
Su Wanning's voice was calm but edged with steel. "You've made your concern known, Yuhan. Now let your sister rest."
Shen Yuhan nodded obligingly. "Of course. Come, Ah Zhu, Ming'er. We've troubled Second Sister long enough."
As she reached the threshold, she paused and looked over her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. "Rest well, Second Sister. If you hear footsteps again tonight, don't be frightened—it might just be guilt walking by."
With that, she swept out, sleeves trailing behind her like banners of victory. Ming'er and Ah Zhu followed, barely suppressing their grins.
Inside, Shen Yulan surged to her feet the moment the door closed. "Mother! She did this, I swear it—she planted that incense!"
Su Wanning stood slowly. Her face was carved from ice, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know."
Shen Yulan blinked. "Then why didn't you say anything?"
Su Wanning's eyes gleamed coldly. "Because we do not flail like fish on a hook in front of others. She played this game and won the first round. But now… now we know the rules she plays by."
A long silence passed between mother and daughter.
Outside the Orchid Pavilion...
After leaving the Orchid Pavilion, Shen Yuhan didn't return to Osmanthus Courtyard right away. Instead, she made her way toward the Lotus Pond—the very first place she had seen upon waking in this unfamiliar world after transmigrating.
In the past few weeks, she had walked nearly every corner of the Shen household: the ancestral hall, the old storage rooms, the kitchens, even the servants' quarters. Yet, she had never once set foot near the Lotus Pond.
She couldn't quite explain why. There had never been a conscious decision to avoid it, no spoken reason or deliberate plan. But the truth was undeniable—she had been avoiding it.
Today, however, she had made up her mind. Before confronting Shen Yulan, she had resolved to visit the pond. To face it. To confront the memory of that disorienting moment—the piercing headache, the overwhelming rush of foreign memories, and the chilling realization that she was no longer in her own world.
Today, she would revisit the place where everything had changed.
The path to the Lotus Pond was quiet, untouched by footsteps, veiled in the fading light of dusk. Moss crept along the edges of stone lanterns, and the air held a faint floral fragrance—lotus, faint and lingering, like the ghost of a memory.
Shen Yuhan walked slowly, her steps soundless against the stone path. As the still waters of the pond came into view, something within her tightened. The surface was smooth, mirroring the blood-colored streaks of sunset, the drooping willows swaying like mourning veils.
She stood at the water's edge.
The wind stirred gently, and a single petal drifted past her eyes—pale pink, almost translucent in the light. It came from the cherry blossom tree that stood near the far side of the pond, gnarled and wide-rooted, its blossoms swaying with an elegance born of time and sorrow.
Something tugged inside her chest.
A forgotten feeling, that lingering emotions. A deep, inexplicable ache that made her throat tighten and her gaze soften.
Her steps carried her toward the tree before she even realized it. The closer she came, the stronger the pull grew. The world around her seemed to dim, to narrow, until all she could hear was the rustle of petals and all she could see was that tree.
As she reached it, her feet stopped—precisely at a spot between two roots, as though her body had known where to go even before her mind had caught up.
Her fingers reached out and brushed the trunk.
A memory stirred.
Fleeting at first. A flicker of a child's laughter. The scent of plum blossom oil on a woman's sleeve. A soft voice humming lullabies by candlelight.
And then—grief. Bone-deep, shattering grief.
She knelt abruptly, her knees sinking into the moss-laced earth. Her hands, trembling slightly, began to dig. She didn't know why—only that she had to. That something was here. That it mattered