NCA

Chapter 1: Peony (1)

On a day in early summer, when the warm breeze scattered willow seeds like downy feathers, Ha Moran, the young mistress of the Liu household, sat in the gallery teasing her green parrot, Solsol. Her enchanting phoenix eyes were narrowed, and she held a long, slender silver spoon filled with sunflower seeds.

“Moran is the prettiest.”

Whenever Solsol spoke those words, Moran rewarded him with a seed and praised him softly. “Solsol, you truly are clever.”

The parrot deftly husked the seed and swallowed the kernel. After scratching the perch with its claws, it mimicked her perfectly. “Solsol, you truly are clever.” Moran burst into laughter.

A maid named Uha, dressed in a pink top and silver-red skirt, approached. “Young Mistress, it is time for your afternoon nap.” Solsol, a worldly bird of ten years, wasn’t intimidated by Uha’s playful teasing. Instead, he shrieked in a voice identical to another maid, Udong:

“Uha! You wench!”

Moran’s expression turned cold. She handed the silver spoon to another maid, Seo-a, smoothed her pomegranate-red silk skirt, and retreated into her room. Uha quickly followed, but froze when she saw a tall, slender shadow at the end of the corridor. She straightened her posture and called out loudly enough for Moran to hear:

“Gongza (Young Master)!”

Liu Chang, dressed in deep purple silk with exquisite embroidery, brushed off his sleeve and entered. He looked around the quiet room suspiciously. “Is the Lady napping again?”

“Yes,” Uha replied, watching his expression. “Young Mistress said she felt dizzy this morning.”

Liu Chang’s thick brows furrowed. “Did you call a physician?” When Uha explained that Moran had refused, citing it as a recurring symptom, Liu Chang strode inside, coldly dismissing the maids. “Leave us.”

Inside the room, the atmosphere was opulent but stifling. He looked toward the window, where Moran reclined on a beauty daybed (miintap), her face shielded by a white silk fan. The purple tassel of the fan draped over her neck, which was as white and smooth as congealed lard. Sunlight glinted off the white peonies embroidered on her light green top.

Liu Chang cleared his throat, but Moran didn’t move. He stepped through the crystal curtains, which clattered with a clear, resonant sound.

“Moran. You say you are unwell, yet you lie here so carelessly? Get up and go to the bed. Do not let your illness worsen and cause a stir in the whole house.”

Under the fan, Moran’s long lashes trembled, and a mocking smile touched her lips. She moved the fan, revealing a face full of forced composure. “Husband, is there some matter?”

“Must there be a matter for me to come here?” his tone was unusually soft. Moran looked out at the blooming red peonies in the courtyard and spoke indifferently.

“Have someone take the pots. As long as the flowers aren’t pinned to someone’s hair, I do not mind lending them for three days and nights.”

Liu Chang felt a surge of shame and anger at her insight into his hidden motives. He laughed coldly.

“Udong is pregnant.”

Moran didn’t even blink. “Ah, what a joyous occasion. Should I speak to the Madam about raising her monthly allowance and giving her another maid?”

Liu Chang searched her beautiful face for a crack—any sign of pain, jealousy, or distress. But Moran only smiled vacantly. She spoke of jewelry and shops as if chatting with a casual friend. Her lack of agitation drained the energy out of him. He couldn’t understand her. Ever since she recovered from a previous illness, she had become a different person—no longer fighting, no longer jealous.

He reached out to touch her face. His fingers were cold and smelled of heavy incense. Though a flash of loathing crossed her eyes, Moran didn’t pull away.

“I find you quite pleasing lately,” Liu Chang remarked, his ego swelling. “So, I shall stay here tonight.”

Moran looked down, hiding her contempt. “I am afraid that is not possible.”

“Not possible? You have been married for three years and have no child, and now you refuse to share a bed? Do you wish for the Liu line to end?”

Moran blinked innocently. “Husband, calm yourself. I am simply unwell, not unwilling. And why speak of the line ending? Is not Ki-a your son? If Byeok-o hears you, she will surely throw a tantrum.”

Stung by the mention of his concubine and illegitimate son, Liu Chang snorted and turned to leave. “We are hosting a Flower Viewing Banquet tomorrow. Wake early and dress beautifully.”

As he walked away, he looked back. Moran was leaning out the window, reaching for a ‘Wei Purple’ peony. As she strained to reach it, her white silk shoe fell off. Liu Chang recognized the pearl on the shoe—it was a gift he had given her years ago for her coming-of-age ceremony. Touched that she still kept it, his anger softened.

“What are you trying to do? I will help you,” he said, stepping toward her. He felt that even if she intended to ruin the best flower to spite him, he would accept it.

But Moran looked at him with wide eyes. “What else do you intend to borrow?”

His fleeting affection instantly turned into a towering rage.

“Borrow? What could I possibly borrow from you? Even you belong to me! I have given you face, yet you do not know your place. I will have the servants take the flowers—not just this pot, but the ‘Yao Yellow,’ the ‘Jade Tower,’ and the ‘Purple Robe’ as well!”

Moran stared at him silently. The twenty-four rare peony pots were her dowry, managed by her own staff. His anger reminded him of why he had married her in the first place. When he raised his hand in fury, Moran’s heart sank. She instinctively stepped back, looking for an escape.