The rain during the grain rain season was as thin as sorrow. Water droplets condensed on the bamboo curtains of Tinglan Courtyard, looking very much like Jiang Rou's endless tears of late. Staring at her pale face in the bronze mirror, she suddenly snatched an jade hairpin from her vanity case and hurled it against the wall. The moment the emerald tip shattered mirrored her own broken state of mind.
"Why..." she muttered to herself, her fingertips tracing the eaves of Qinghe Courtyard reflected in the mirror. "Just because she can pluck a few wretched tunes, she has managed to wrap both Father and the Crown Prince around her finger?"
"Eldest Miss, please calm your anger." Biyue entered carrying a medicine bowl, her coarse cloth tunic still smelling of soap. "Madame said that once your period of confinement ends, there will be plenty of opportunities..."
Chapter 18