Ever since she first came to the Nightless City, Wang Lingjiao’s life had been one of success after success. Making maid of Wen Chao’s wife had been a great success for a girl of her standing and becoming his mistress had been the greatest height she could dream of, lifting her high above all other servants. Her family had been allowed to form their own sect thanks to her connections and if that wasn’t far more than all these other people who sneered at her for being a mistress could say for themselves and their pathetic little selves and their pathetic little lives.
Deep down, she had always known that Wen Chao would eventually tire of her as he had tired of all his previous mistresses and she had been vicious in her fight to keep the status she had fought so hard for, but even in her glummest moments, she had never thought it would end like this. It was such a letdown after everything her life had been. She didn’t even get a noteworthy death, nothing to ensure her name would be remembered, and she certainly didn’t get to walk away with wealth and privileges as you might if you were clever during your time as mistress.
She still remembered the day she had been taken prisoner; she had expected to be killed on the spot but inside she had been carted off to Qinghe to die of boredom in the most uninteresting cell she had ever seen. It figured the Qishan Nie would be too terribly boring even to make interesting jailers. She had spent days upon days yelling until her throat was hoarse, shouting obscenities and offering bribes, making empty promises and at one point, begging to be tortured simply because she didn’t think it could hurt more than the utter indifference with which she was treated.
On the day Wang Lingjiao first moved to Nightless City, she had promised herself she would become someone who mattered and now, as she slowly rotted away in her pathetic cell, she found herself right back where she had started out.
She cried. There were angry tears and sad tears, and a whole lot of self-pitying tears.
For a while, she remained convinced Qishan Wen would win the war; she spent some very fine days ranting and raving at her jailers about all the gruesome things she would see done to them once she was free and they locked away. They still didn’t react and eventually, she had to admit to herself that there was only one explanation why the Unclean Realm never fell, and didn’t even seem embattled at all.
When the clothes first appeared, it only took her a few hours of furious complaints until she gave in and changed. It took her three more weeks to actually make it to the parlor. The first week she tried to escape, the second week she threw a tantrum when her demand for explanations weren’t heeded and the third… well, the first was some of column A and some of column B, really.
On the day she finally made it to the parlor, she stopped barely having crossed the threshold, utterly outraged by the sight of the nothing for which she had been forced through so much trouble. The man curled up in the chair barely held her attention at all, his surroundings and his own demeanor all spoke of him being someone unimportant and thus, he was clearly beneath her notice. A terrible imposition on her valuable time, really.
“That’s it?!” she demanded, her voice shrill and demanding with outrage even by her standards. “You force me into these ugly rags your Sect calls clothes and then I’m sent to talk to a servant?” It had to be a servant, she figured, nobody respectable would hold court in such a drab room that didn’t even speak of his importance.
She stepped further into the room, head held high with the same arrogance she had been known for among the Qishan Wen. They could force her into ugly servant’s clothes and throw her away in the deepest cell but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of acting the part. You had to constantly remind people you were important, it was the only way to be treated as important.
“You, boy!” she said, snapping her fingers. “I’m talking to you!”
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Deep down, she had always known that Wen Chao would eventually tire of her as he had tired of all his previous mistresses and she had been vicious in her fight to keep the status she had fought so hard for, but even in her glummest moments, she had never thought it would end like this. It was such a letdown after everything her life had been. She didn’t even get a noteworthy death, nothing to ensure her name would be remembered, and she certainly didn’t get to walk away with wealth and privileges as you might if you were clever during your time as mistress.
She still remembered the day she had been taken prisoner; she had expected to be killed on the spot but inside she had been carted off to Qinghe to die of boredom in the most uninteresting cell she had ever seen. It figured the Qishan Nie would be too terribly boring even to make interesting jailers. She had spent days upon days yelling until her throat was hoarse, shouting obscenities and offering bribes, making empty promises and at one point, begging to be tortured simply because she didn’t think it could hurt more than the utter indifference with which she was treated.
On the day Wang Lingjiao first moved to Nightless City, she had promised herself she would become someone who mattered and now, as she slowly rotted away in her pathetic cell, she found herself right back where she had started out.
She cried. There were angry tears and sad tears, and a whole lot of self-pitying tears.
For a while, she remained convinced Qishan Wen would win the war; she spent some very fine days ranting and raving at her jailers about all the gruesome things she would see done to them once she was free and they locked away. They still didn’t react and eventually, she had to admit to herself that there was only one explanation why the Unclean Realm never fell, and didn’t even seem embattled at all.
When the clothes first appeared, it only took her a few hours of furious complaints until she gave in and changed. It took her three more weeks to actually make it to the parlor. The first week she tried to escape, the second week she threw a tantrum when her demand for explanations weren’t heeded and the third… well, the first was some of column A and some of column B, really.
On the day she finally made it to the parlor, she stopped barely having crossed the threshold, utterly outraged by the sight of the nothing for which she had been forced through so much trouble. The man curled up in the chair barely held her attention at all, his surroundings and his own demeanor all spoke of him being someone unimportant and thus, he was clearly beneath her notice. A terrible imposition on her valuable time, really.
“That’s it?!” she demanded, her voice shrill and demanding with outrage even by her standards. “You force me into these ugly rags your Sect calls clothes and then I’m sent to talk to a servant?” It had to be a servant, she figured, nobody respectable would hold court in such a drab room that didn’t even speak of his importance.
She stepped further into the room, head held high with the same arrogance she had been known for among the Qishan Wen. They could force her into ugly servant’s clothes and throw her away in the deepest cell but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of acting the part. You had to constantly remind people you were important, it was the only way to be treated as important.
“You, boy!” she said, snapping her fingers. “I’m talking to you!”