I decided to visit my shop—Bao Lai.
The carved wooden doors creaked open as I stepped inside. The scent of sandalwood and fresh parchment lingered in the air. My workers paused mid-task, bowing in practiced rhythm.
I offered a small nod, my steps echoing softly on the polished stone floor as I moved through the displays. Everything looked precise—just as I trained them. Elegant rows of jade bangles, pearl-threaded necklaces, gold-fused ornaments. But one piece caught my eye.
Near the center shelf, under a glass dome, sat a hairpin—gold filigree wrapped around a stem of translucent jade, shaped into a blooming peony.
It was delicate yet striking. The petals had been carved so thin they looked like silk caught in the wind. Tiny specks of sapphire dust shimmered along the edges, and a single teardrop-shaped pearl hung from the end like morning dew.
I reached out instinctively, fingers brushing its cool surface.
> "Can't you see this is already booked?" a voice snapped, breaking the stillness.
"If you want something like this, go order it!"
I turned sharply.
A young woman stood beside me—shoulders squared, brows pinched. Her tone was sharp, her stance defensive. She had no idea who she was speaking to.
> "Who are you?" I asked quietly. "And how dare you speak to me like that?"
There was a beat of silence.
Then—hurried footsteps.
> "Miss Liu!"
Qing Xia, my most trusted senior artisan, appeared with a worried bow.
"Forgive her, please. She's new. She doesn't recognize you."
The young woman's face drained of color. Her eyes darted from Qing Xia to me—confusion slowly giving way to horror.
> "Y-you're… Miss Liu?"
Qing Xia's tone sharpened.
> "This is the owner of Bao Lai. Our patron. The one who signs your wages."
She girl—Liying—looked stricken.
I didn't say anything. I simply stepped away from the hairpin and walked with Qing Xia down the aisle.
> "Everything's in order today?" I asked.
> "Yes, Miss Liu," Qing Xia replied. "Orders are on schedule. That piece—the hairpin you just touched—was a custom commission for a noblewoman in Linhai Prefecture. We finished it this morning."
I gave a small nod, eyes lingering on the memory of the peony pin.
> "Make sure no one like Liying ever speaks to a guest that way. Not even a stranger."
> "Understood. I'll speak with her personally."
Later, Liying approached me near the back storeroom. Her steps were hesitant, her voice soft.
> "Miss Liu… I apologize for what happened earlier. I didn't know who you were. I didn't mean any disrespect."
Her gaze was lowered. Nervous, but honest.
I studied her a moment.
> "Even if I weren't the owner, that kind of tone is unacceptable. But I'm not without grace."
She raised her eyes slowly.
> "You'll give me another chance?"
> "Yes. But learn this now—respect isn't for titles. It's for people. Any one of our clients might have more power than you think. Or more pain. Always speak gently."
She bowed low.
> "Thank you, Miss Liu. I'll remember that."
That evening, as the lanterns outside swung softly in the wind, I thought of that hairpin again—the peony, the pearl.
A symbol of grace... and fragility.
Just like I used to be.
But not anymore.