The candlelight caught the gold thread in Shen Yiyi's new robes, making the embroidered peonies seem to bloom in the flickering flame.
She stood before her full-length mirror, turning slowly, watching the pale pink silk ripple around her feet. The color was deliberate—innocent, soft, the shade of a girl who could do no wrong. The peonies spoke of wealth and good taste. The gold thread whispered of ambition.
"Mother," she said, not looking away from her reflection, "do you think she'll wear that hairpin?"
Chen Mi sat on the divan behind her, a cup of chilled tea cooling in her hands. She didn't need to ask who "she" was.
"Probably," Chen Mi said. "The one her brother gave her. Light green with those dangling flowers."
Shen Yiyi's smile tightened. Her fingers drifted to her own hairpiece—jade, genuine, inherited from her grandmother. "It's cheap. Everyone will see it's cheap."
"Everyone will see that the first branch's heir gave his sister a trinket instead of jewels." Chen Mi set down her cup and rose, walking toward her daughter. She adjusted a fold on Yiyi's sleeve, her fingers cool and deliberate. "Let her wear it. It only makes you look better. You are wearing your grandmother's jade. She is wearing a street-market bauble."
Shen Yiyi turned from the mirror and faced her mother. Her expression was soft—the practiced softness of a girl who had learned long ago to hide her teeth behind a smile.
"And if Brother Shen Yao notices her? He's been acting strangely lately. Distant. Cold."
Chen Mi tilted her head. "Your cousin is a man. Men notice what is placed directly in front of them. His sister is not his wife. She is not his future. You are his cousin—the one who was always kind to him, always loyal, always beautiful." She touched Yiyi's cheek. "He will remember that. And if he doesn't, we will remind him."
Shen Yiyi's smile became real. Small. Sharp.
"Mother is right."
"Of course, I am." Chen Mi stepped back, surveyed her daughter's reflection. "Now sit. Let me fix your hair. Tomorrow, everyone will see who the Shen family's true daughter is."
A heavy footstep sounded at the door. Shen An leaned against the frame, a cup of wine in his hand, his eyes half-lidded.
"Sister," he slurred, "you're going to that banquet?"
Shen Yiyi's expression flickered annoyance, quickly hidden. "Yes, Brother. Will you be attending?"
Shen An laughed, the sound too loud for the small room. "And watch you simper at the nobility? No. I have better things to do." He pushed off from the doorframe and disappeared down the corridor, his footsteps uneven.
Chen Mi's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Her son was useless. Her daughter was not.
"Don't mind him," she said. "He's drunk."
Shen Yiyi turned back to the mirror. "I never mind him, Mother. He's irrelevant."
Chen Mi smiled.
"Yes," she thought. "You are my true heir."
Outside the window, the moon was half-hidden behind clouds. Somewhere in the capital, another girl was looking at a light green hairpin and hoping for a better future.
Neither knew they were walking toward the same room.