Chapter Eight: A Phoenix Without Feathers Is No Better Than a Chicken

Mo Suxian was a full half a head taller than Lingran’s current body. The other girls, seeing her deliberately compare their heights, immediately shouted, “You little brat, are you tired of living?” and made to climb over the table for a fight.

Mohan, standing by, interjected coolly, “A murderer’s daughter dares to be so arrogant! Watch yourself, or you’ll incur everyone’s wrath and get thrown back into the pleasure house.”

Xu Shanquan and Shen Zhu had always looked down on Mo Suxian, but since they weren’t on good terms with Mohan either, they simply returned to their beds to watch the scene unfold from the sidelines when they saw her stepping in. Mohan’s words seemed to hit a sore spot for Mo Suxian; she instantly wilted like a deflated balloon, collapsed onto the table, and began to wail out loud.

Lingran, stubborn against force but yielding to softness, would never have relented if Mo Suxian had continued being aggressive—she would have fought back without hesitation. Yet now, faced with tears, she was at a loss, not knowing what to do.

The room grew tense and silent, with only Mo Suxian’s sobs echoing within.

Yuan’er, seeing the awkward look on Lingran’s face, assumed she was simply too young to understand and had gotten into it with Mo Suxian out of childishness. She went over to gently pat Mo Suxian’s back, saying, “Lingran didn’t mean it. Don’t cry—every girl here has her own troubles at home, don’t we all?”

Unexpectedly, Mo Suxian sprang to her feet at these words, flung Yuan’er’s hand aside, and shouted, “Don’t pretend to be so kind! None of you have good intentions!”

Lingran felt both exasperated and amused, thinking to herself that pitiful people so often have their own detestable sides.

Xu Shanquan and Shen Zhu exchanged mocking smiles, clearly not intending to intervene. Mohan remarked dryly, “See? That’s what happens when you try to help some people.”

One of the other girls, who had been silent until now, couldn’t hold back any longer. Luo Xianghong, trying to mediate, said, “Enough, let’s not quarrel. She actually has a point. We’re all like phoenixes with lost feathers, who knows what fate awaits us? We ought to stick together for now.”

Lingran nodded in agreement; Luo Xianghong’s words made sense. Women had always been at a disadvantage in ancient times—why make things harder for each other, especially when they were all down on their luck? She turned to Mo Suxian and said, “Let’s forget it! No matter what, I should address you as elder sister. I was wrong in how I spoke just now, please don’t hold it against me.”

Mo Suxian snorted, sulking her way to her bed, which she’d chosen in the farthest corner—a textbook sign, Lingran thought, of someone who lacked a sense of security.

Perhaps Luo Xianghong’s words had stirred up sad memories, for the group fell silent, each girl lost in her own thoughts.

As the sun set, the room grew dim and shadowy. Lingran’s eyes fell on a pitch-black floor lamp in the corner, and she found herself missing electric lights from the modern world—how wonderful it would be to have just one! She didn’t even dare wish for a TV or computer. She sighed quietly to herself.

Before long, Song’er and Xiao’e arrived with two older women, bringing dinner. The girls immediately perked up.

There were three vegetable dishes, one meat dish, and a soup. The soup contained only some floating egg ribbons; the meager meat dish was a small plate of pork. The other two large platters were vegetables, with ten steamed buns on the side—not exactly a luxurious spread.

Lingran was famished and quickly ate two bowls of rice with vegetables and soup. The plate of meat was gone in a flash, snatched up by eager hands.

After dinner, darkness had fallen completely. In this ancient world, the night seemed deeper than ever—without the moon, you truly couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. That night, there were neither stars nor moon, and the stifling heat hinted at impending rain.

The maids and older women came to clear the dishes. Xiao’e left behind a candlestick, providing some precious light, while Song’er and the others returned with new clothes and jewelry.

Biqing was thrilled to see new clothes, immediately holding one up to her body and eagerly asking Lingran and Yuan’er if it looked nice.

There were two styles, ten sets of each, each outfit tagged with a red string and bamboo label. The one Biqing tried on had a slant-collared white silk collar and was made of elaborately patterned cotton in reddish-brown, with a matching sash. The skirt was short in front and long in back, trailing on the ground. The other set was earth-toned; in the dim light, it looked dull and unappealing.

Biqing beamed, “I’ve always wanted a phoenix-tail skirt—finally, I have one!”

Back when the noble girls were on display for sale, they’d all been dressed up beautifully in sheer gauze dresses, each in different styles and colors, but only allowed to wear one set each, with no changes of clothes provided.

Lingran praised her repeatedly. With her sweet features, Biqing looked especially charming in the floral cotton dress.

Shen Zhu scoffed, “You really haven’t seen the world—calling this style and fabric beautiful?”

Biqing sheepishly put the skirt back. Lingran turned to check the undergarments and was pleased to find clean, white cotton tops, trousers, and a bellyband.

The other girls examined the jewelry—it turned out to be just one peachwood hairpin and a few hair ties each, leaving them all visibly disappointed.

Song’er lit the oil lamp in the corner and called out, “Ladies, if you’d like to bathe, please come with me. Madam Xu says that starting tomorrow, you all must wear the dresses and accessories of ‘Xun Yun Retreat’—floral on odd days, solid colors on even days, and don’t mix them up. Your name tags are inside the clothes.”

Xiao’e added oil to the lamp in the corner and lit the candlesticks one by one, brightening the room a bit more.

Yesterday, Lingran had bathed in a tub at the Jin family estate, but here, bathing was done with two cloth towels—one for the upper body, one for the lower. Afterward, you had to stand on a bamboo mat and rinse yourself with a ladle before toweling off and changing clothes.

That day, she, Biqing, Yuan’er, and the others picked out their clothes, set them on the bed, grabbed their fresh sets, lit a few lanterns, and stepped out of the courtyard into a quiet, secluded garden. Beyond a ring of darkness, when they raised their lanterns, they saw glimmers of water ahead—a pond.

The girls began to protest. Xu Shanquan was the first to flare up, “We’re all young ladies of good families—do you expect us to bathe out here under the open sky?”

Song’er hung a lantern on a tree by the pond and replied, “I’m just a maid; this is what the housekeeper told Madam Xu, and there’s no other choice.”

The rest of the girls grumbled in discontent. Though the weather was hot, bathing at night in the open water still seemed too chilly.

Song’er, being just a maid, was soon so flustered by their complaints that she was on the verge of tears.

At that moment, the courtyard door creaked open and Madam Xu and Madam Zhou entered, holding red lanterns. They must have heard the commotion, for Madam Xu immediately said coldly, “This is the general’s order. Do you still think you’re noble ladies? You’re slaves now, having been sold! The general likes cleanliness and has decreed that you must bathe at least every other day—every third day, a full bath. There aren’t enough stoves and firewood here to heat water for all of you! It’s not winter—what’s with all the fuss?”

“In fact, cold water baths are good for your health!” Lingran thought it pointless to oppose the so-called masters over such trifles. She was the first to show her acceptance, and, seeing that there were no men around and the night was pitch-black, she boldly stripped off her outer garments and, clad only in her underclothes, jumped straight into the water with a splash.