After finishing the nail polish, Liang Di took Liang Lin’s hand, raised it overhead, and examined it from side to side. Something felt off—too plain, like a missing touch.
Simple pink was elegant and cute, sure. But noble ladies’ gowns were lavish and intricate. Paired with those, the nails looked oddly bare.
Liang Di’s gaze landed on the diamond pinned to Liang Lin’s chest. Her eyes widened. A sudden, sharp laugh escaped her.
“I’ve got it.”
What if she used tree resin to stick a diamond onto Liang Lin’s nail? Wouldn’t that make it gleam like the gown itself?
Carefully, she dabbed a tiny bit of resin on Liang Lin’s index fingernail, then pulled a petite pink diamond from the drawer and pressed it into place.
“This is… a diamond?”
Liang Lin sucked in a breath. “Why’d you stick a diamond on my nail?”
Liang Di released her hand with a sweet smile. “Raise it. See for yourself. Pretty?”
Bewildered, Liang Lin obeyed.
Sunlight slipped between her fingers, glinting off the diamond on her index finger, scattering prismatic sparks across her face.
…Actually kind of beautiful.
Liang Di stuck a blue one on her own index finger.
“How about this? Pretty?”
Liang Lin lowered her hand and looked at her.
The girl was poetry in motion. Maybe it was the light—but her eyes shone like stars, gleaming with quiet brilliance. Every smile, every glance felt like a gentle spring breeze: graceful, serene, effortlessly lovely.
Such stunning eyes. Like sapphires. More precious than any diamond.
“…Pretty.”
Liang Lin looked away.
Damn it. No wonder they called her a witch—she’d been spellbound for a full second.
“The gown’s ready. Wear it to the tea party the day after tomorrow. It’s in the wardrobe—go on, open it. See if you like it.”
A warm thrill bloomed in Liang Di’s chest—like dressing a cherished doll. Satisfaction. Accomplishment.
Watching Liang Lin’s silhouette, a strange thought slithered in: *If she stays this obedient… would it really matter if I made her my egg-laying machine?*
No!
Liang Di gritted her teeth.
These dark, twisting thoughts kept surfacing—growing heavier each day. Without iron willpower, she might truly become a “monster.”
No wonder House Langwendi called her—and the others before her—“the Curse.”
Liang Lin opened the wardrobe.
Inside hung a burgundy-and-black gown. The pattern was modest, but the lace trim and tassels were exquisitely detailed.
She loved this muted palette. Her own room echoed it.
“Quite lovely.”
She couldn’t look away.
“I designed it myself,” Liang Di said, wheeling her chair closer.
Liang Lin glanced at the other gown—sapphire blue and off-white. Bright. Cheerful. Fitting for Liang Di, the “sunny,” “kind” young lady who flashed fake smiles at everyone.
“But this style isn’t very complex,” Liang Lin murmured, tracing the sleeve.
“Of course not.”
Naturally.
Miss Felice of the Auston family was stunning, stylish, and charitable—often visiting the commoner district or church. To many girls, she was an idol, the face of fashion.
If Felice wore *her* design once? Free advertising. Then spread the word: *“Sotran Empire’s first tailor shop open to all commoners.”* Beauty-loving girls would flock in.
*See, Auston? This is my mind.*
A cold smile touched Liang Di’s lips. She’d never forget Auston trying to strangle her.
—— Day Two ——
Auston knocked on Liang Lin’s door at dawn.
Still groggy, Liang Lin yanked it open, face etched with irritation. No greeting.
“Father, if you can’t sleep, find Miranda. She’ll drain your energy till you pass out—not bang on my door at 8:30 a.m.”
“…”
Auston’s cheeks flushed. But Liang Lin was still useful. He swallowed his scolding.
“Daughter… remember our deal? Silver coins today. Take Liang Di out. She’s… fragile. I trust no one else. Only you—steady, reliable Liang Lin.”
Liang Lin took a slow breath, accepted the coin purse, then glanced down.
Edwin clung to Auston’s leg.
“Tch. Bad luck.”
*Slam!*
The door shut hard. Auston’s face darkened like stove soot.
Back in bed, Liang Lin couldn’t sleep. *Walking with Liang Di… might not be so bad.* She dressed and went to find her.
Liang Di was already ready—practical trousers, no skirt.
Liang Lin glanced at her own fussy dress. Irritation flickered.
“Heading out? Change into this.” Liang Di pointed to a neatly folded outfit on the bed.
It fit perfectly.
Inside the carriage:
“Stop here. I want to walk,” Liang Di said.
Liang Lin pushed the wheelchair through the bustling commoner district. Women hurried past, baskets in hand, mud still damp on their skirts. 10 a.m.—heading home to cook lunch.
The two girls stood out. Plain clothes couldn’t hide their grace. An invisible barrier. Eyes kept drifting toward them.
*Not good.* Liang Di frowned. Her snow-white hair screamed against the gray streets.
“Let’s buy a cloak,” she whispered.
Her gaze locked on an underground tavern tucked in an alley. Liang Lin followed it.
“You want to go *there*?”
“Mm.”
Underground taverns were ruffian nests—chaotic, dangerous.
Liang Lin almost warned her.
Then stopped.
*If someone attacks her… maybe I’ll finally see how this “witch” fights back.*
“Sure,” she said softly. “I’ll take you.”
