I was beautiful, but Mother favored my older sister. Nobody believed it when I said so. What mother wouldn't love a pretty daughter? But that was exactly how it was in my family. Mother looked at me no differently than she looked at the flowers and plants in the courtyard.
Only later did I figure out the reason: I looked too much like my grandmother. My grandmother was my grandfather's second wife, a full ten years younger than him, and the most famous beauty in all of the capital. Doted on and pampered by everyone, she naturally had a bad temper, and was both spoiled and proud.
Mother had endured her for over a decade and finally outlasted her, but had nowhere to vent all that pent-up resentment. As it happened, I was born
