Spring birds are singing on the branches, and the morning mist in the mountains has not yet completely dissipated, leaving a hazy mist on the glass windows.
After turning over in bed, I regained consciousness and opened my eyes.
It must be getting late. In the distance, one can even faintly hear the hawkers' cries. The residents of this small town always get up so early.
I should get up now. If I don't, I'm afraid someone will tell on me and embarrass me. Just as this thought crossed my mind, I remembered the current situation.
No, there is no need to worry anymore. No one will scold me now.
He slowly sat up, threw back the covers, got out of bed, and looked at the face in the mirror.
The black hair is slightly spiral and scattered between the shoulders and collarbones. The dark green eyebrows are a little delicate, and the curves of the cheeks are soft and smooth.
Looking at this face that was somewhat similar to those portraits, a feeling of slight disgust flowed through my heart, like a thin thread, although faint, but hard to ignore.
That’s right, my name is Gwel Kite Wenlani, and I’m the only heir of the Wenlani family.
The surname Wenlani comes from that lucky ancestor, and Yuan refers to the noble bloodline that an ancestor inherited hundreds of years ago. Therefore, a character was added in the middle to get rid of the image of being a nouveau riche with little background in the past.
My mother died when I was very young, and my father was not around for many years, so he raised me in a castle.
Living in a confined space might be uncomfortable for others, but I've never experienced that. Perhaps it's because I haven't seen the beauty of the outside world that I don't miss it.
This is what Judy, the daughter of a nearby baron, said about me. She is about my age and one of my few friends.
Life in the castle is very monotonous and there is not much new, so the only way to get information is to read.
My father hired an etiquette teacher to teach me various knowledge, including the basics such as literacy and arithmetic.
"A qualified lady should learn to manage the household, receive guests, and take care of her family, so that she can live a good life." This is what the experienced old lady taught me.
Although she looked kind, her teaching was quite harsh in many details, and I was often slapped on the palm of my hand.
"I'm doing this for the eldest lady's own good. Your father paid me to come here to do this." While beating me, she also told me not to hate her, because the eldest daughters of every family had gone through the same thing.
"You have to be beautiful and decent, and at the same time, remain reserved and make men feel your charm. This is an elegant art."
"A girl's most beautiful years are actually these few years. If you can't find a suitable marriage partner during this period, you will become a laughing stock."
"Be careful of girls your age; they are your competition."
"Remember, elegance and reserve are just appearances. You can't always win by relying on them. There are some things you must always hold on to."
"Men always like young and beautiful girls, but we all know that no matter how beautiful a girl is, she will eventually grow old."
"Don't believe any promises, everything will pass and be forgotten."
“Wealth, power, status, fame—these are the things that can protect you. If you cannot obtain these, your beauty is but like a flower on the water, drifting with the current and scattered by the wind.”
"Go ahead and try to cling to me. I believe you are a smart girl with great talent."
I used to hate hearing these words because they shattered my childhood fantasies.
But sadly, over the years, I did slowly integrate these into my life and consciousness.
The father is ugly.
I realized this probably one night after a banquet.
I walked through the corridor of the castle and heard a rippling sound coming from a room on one side, like the howling of a wild beast, which was difficult to describe.
Is this what aristocracy is? I began to doubt whether aristocrats are truly noble.
After another year or two, I grew up gradually, and my father would occasionally come to see my daily life in his free time.
"Gweil." One day, he walked into the study and called out my name.
"What's the matter, father?" I thought to myself, "Didn't I go out for fun with some noble lady today?"
"You are already 12 years old."
"Yes."
"Well, it seems I have to tell you about our family history." The father seemed to finally remember his responsibilities. He took my hand and walked towards the secret basement of the castle.
The stairs had an antique feel, with rounded, broken edges and the occasional sound of dripping water. Servants held torches, illuminating the surrounding scenery.
The stairs went down step by step. As the iron bars were pulled up, the sound of the noose stopped. My father took out the worn key from his arms and opened the tightly sealed stone door.
This place seems to have been transformed by alchemists in the past and has complex mechanisms.
The gears rotated with a clicking sound, and the stone door slowly rose up, revealing the dark space behind it.
It turns out that it can be opened by pushing it open or pulling it left or right. What a brilliant design.
After a brief sigh of emotion, my father asked the servants to guard outside the door, and he himself held a torch and walked in with me.
With a slight bang, the brazier on the wall was lit, and the thick candles were also lit, and the environment inside was finally revealed.
This is a small hall with a flower bud-shaped throne in the center. Its corners and armrests are light purple and slightly reflective in the firelight.
The walls on both sides were covered with murals, all of which were portraits of people. What was surprising was that these portraits all bore a vague resemblance.
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