When I finally woke completely, it was already noon the next day.
Grace was already washed and dressed, sitting downstairs eating breakfast.
Dark circles shadowed her eyes. She pressed her cold-milk glass against her forehead—last night's drinking had clearly taken a toll. Seeing me awake, she immediately ordered wontons and called me down.
I answered and hurried downstairs.
"Good morning, Grace. Where's Victor?"
"They left early. You were sleeping so soundly they didn't wake you."
The wontons came out quickly—thin skins revealing the pink of fresh shrimp, served in elegant bowls with seaweed, dried shrimp, and cilantro in separate small dishes so I could season to my taste. Exceptionally thoughtful.
Grace still had her usual bread, ham, and milk. The wontons were clearly prepared just for me.
"I don't usually eat hot food in the morning, and the others don't care what they eat. So yesterday at breakfast, they didn't prepare anything else—our apologies to Miss Rose."
Grace explained leisurely, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
I detected the teasing in her tone: "Whatever Grace is having is fine for me."
Grace smiled deeper: "Victor specifically instructed that when you were home, your breakfast was either chicken noodle soup or wontons. If he wasn't so busy, he'd have made them himself."
I remembered the two meals I'd served Victor—one instant noodles, one frozen dumplings, both shabby. My face burned to the roots of my hair.
Grace continued: "That man was thrilled when he heard you weren't leaving. He gave instructions to everyone in the house before he went out this morning."
...
A delivery arrived at the door—military funds from Mrs. Garrett, Mrs. Lambert, and Mrs. Sterling.
Three boxes of gold bars.
After asking around, I learned from the morning shift guard that this was Adjutant Shaw's arrangement.
Because the war had drained their funds, Victor wanted to "solicit donations" from the Railway and Postal bureaus.
To ensure cooperation, Oliver had the families of those officials brought to the General's Estate.
What was supposed to be a straightforward fundraising event became something more because of my impassioned speech yesterday, which moved the ladies to donate their own jewelry.
Oliver, knowing these were gifts from the ladies' husbands, and considering that holding families hostage wasn't exactly respectable, had the jewelry returned with a message: "The sentiment behind the jewelry is priceless. Military funds are sufficient. We acknowledge the thought and return the jewelry in full."
In fact, Victor and Oliver had already raised the official funds from the three departments yesterday. They didn't need the jewelry.
What Oliver didn't know was that after the ladies and children went home, they all agreed that Miss Grace and Miss Rose at the General's Estate were heroines—genuinely wanting to support the military.
When the returned jewelry was delivered with the explanation, the ladies felt that donating jewelry directly was improper. So they prepared gold bars of equivalent value as military contributions.
Grace breathed a sigh of relief: "I was worried their approach might alienate people. Good, good. Now we have both the money and goodwill, thanks to you, Rose."
I looked blankly: "I don't remember any of that..."
"Rose, what you said yesterday was so moving. Too bad you got drunk—you even started talking about hammers and sickles representing the workers' alliance..."
What? I said all that?
Victor and Oliver still had to deal with the traitors' accomplices, reorganize military affairs, purchase equipment, and handle everything else.
Grace and I, by contrast, had much more leisure.
Grace loved reading. In the afternoons, she'd brew a pot of black tea with milk and sit quietly until the sun tilted west.
I couldn't do the same. My hands held a book with the muscle memory of gripping a Nintendo Switch, missing the sensation of game controllers.
Only when fresh mille-feuille and sea-salt foam tea arrived did I feel revived.
The General's Estate chefs were all incredible. I merely described a few things, and they could make any pastry or tea drink I requested.
Food, clothing, shelter—everything was better than in my world. But after filling up on cake, I grew melancholy again.
Because my best friend Ivy was still in lockdown, struggling with shortages.
Would she be worried about me? I'd been out of contact for three days now.
Seeing my heavy sighs, Grace suggested going shopping.
She said I'd given her gifts yesterday, so today she wanted to give me something.
I felt awkward—the gifts had all been chosen by her brother.
Grace took me to her regular tailor "Zhang's" for custom qipaos, then to the department store for jewelry.
"Rose, I'm a few years older than you. I'm not sure what young girls like these days."
She selected several styles, worried I wouldn't be satisfied.
Victor's mother had died in childbirth when he was born. His father saw Victor and thought of his late wife, so he'd never given Victor much attention. Victor only had Grace as his sister.
Grace was only four years older, but she'd nonetheless taken on a mother's role—which made her treat me with the same elder's care.
"I know you probably don't like jewelry either. Neither do I, but for social occasions, one must dress up a little..."
Watching her carefully select clothes and accessories for me—I who'd never had family to care for me felt deeply warmed.
After choosing earrings and bracelets, we passed a Western dress shop.
Grace noticed that the customers going in and out were all young women, so she suggested we browse too.
2.
The dress shop was busy today. The owner recognized Grace and cleared a private room for us. We were choosing styles while snacking on pastries when we heard giggling outside.
"Miss Luna is so pretty!"
"The Young Marshal couldn't take his eyes off Miss Luna yesterday!"
Some Miss Chase was being flattered by her friends.
Grace also looked up from the fashion catalog, glancing at the room's ornate but poorly insulated door.
The voices outside continued:
"Someone even had the nerve to say that woman of unknown origin was the Young Marshal's girlfriend."
"I'd say she's just a calculating bed-climber."
"Exactly. What decent girl would just move into the General's Estate without a proper arrangement?"
"She's a pitiful orphan, she said." A familiar voice rang out.
"Really?"
"She said it herself—how could it be a lie? Probably no parents to teach her manners. No self-respect. Even if she climbs into bed, how long would a man stay interested?"
The girl's voice was bright and clear, trampling all else beneath her feet.
We already knew who it was outside.
Luna Chase, eldest daughter of the Chase family.
There Luna was, chatting with three young women while shopping—every word about me, Rose.
The discussion grew sharper, more pointed and cruel.
And every word—every single one—things they assumed I'd never hear—I heard completely.
Beyond anger, I felt more than anything exasperated.
Luna treating me as a rival in love, dismissing me—that might be understandable. But these random women calling me a calculating bed-climber was a bit much.
They'd never met me. They had no grudge against me.
Even if they wanted to flatter Luna, there was no need to trample me like this.
Grace's eyelids lowered. She ordered someone to open the door, then turned to me: "Just looking at catalogs won't tell us much. Let's go out and pick."
The attendants, who'd been sweating through the overheard conversation, rushed to open the door.
But before they could, a clear, refined male voice came from outside: "Luna, you may not speak like that."
"Brother~" Luna's voice softened. "Brother, what are you doing here?"
"I came to pay for your shopping. I didn't expect you girls to sit around slandering someone."
Grace's furrowed brow relaxed. She pulled me up, and we emerged from the private room one after the other.
Grace browsed casually, pretending not to notice them, but our large entourage was hard to miss.
When Luna saw me and Grace at the same store, her expression soured.
She came over to probe and greet:
"Miss Grace, you're shopping at the department store too?"
Everyone knew Grace only wore custom pieces—that's why she asked.
Finally, I could look at them closely.
Luna still wore her elegant, subdued dress. The other three girls were young—bangs and bob cuts or braids—clearly still students.