Concubine's Fragrance

On the day Fan tide was carried into the Zhenguo Palace, it snowed in the capital. Not the main entrance. It's the side door. A small sedan chair, supported by two women, creaked on the snow. She was wearing a newly made lotus-colored dress, and the tips of her embroidered shoes were stained with snow. The snow water seeped into the shoes, and they were as cold as needles. "Girl, bow your head." The mother-in-law whispered, "This is the rule." She lowered her head and saw that her fingers were red from the cold and her knuckles were cracked with a few small cuts. They hurt and were a little itchy. She clutched the handkerchief in her sleeve tightly - it was the only thing she brought out from home, with a bunch of crooked bluegrass embroidered on it. Wei Yan was waiting for her in the study. When she entered, he was writing without looking up. Fan tide stood there, counting his breaths. At the forty-seventh count, my feet were numb, as if there were insects crawling in my bones. She couldn't help it anymore and moved her feet slightly. Wei Yan put down his pen. "How old are you?" "Eighteen." "Can you read?" "Recognize some." Only then did he look at her. The gaze slid down from her face, like a hand touching her through her clothes. Fan tide's back stiffened and all the hair on her hair stood up, but she did not dare to move. "Moving to Yilan Courtyard tomorrow." He said, "If you are missing anything, tell the housekeeper." That's it. There was no exchange of glasses of wine, no red candles, not a single unnecessary word. She became the concubine of Wei Yan, the Duke of Zhenguo, and even skipped the concubine-taking ceremony, just because he didn't like making noise.