For reasons beyond my control, news of my new status as the official Lady of White Fang has gotten around creating a reason for people to drop in and congratulate me. I’m not sure who exactly is responsible, and I know the news was going to get out anyway, but I feel like blaming the head butler.


    Unsurprisingly, Lady Yan is the first to arrive saying, “I wanted to bring by a little something now that you’re recovered.”


    Of course, I have to invite her for a cup of tea. But then Lady Deng arrives before the tea is poured, so of course she wants a cup too.


    Both of them are dressed in modest cut, but very expensive silk dresses in shades of blue. And I suspect that their rivalry includes who can get away with wearing the most hair accessories. Almost as if they are competing to see who wears it better.


    Then the flood gates open and release nothing, but self-important women all allegedly wanting to bring the Lady of White Fang a beautiful wrapped gift.


    If they were coming to see my freshly recovered face for the first time, then they must be sorely disappointed. I’m keeping the veil.


    Even though I still lack Luan’s official endorsement of health, I tell each and every one of them that “I’m fully recovered and in the best health I can be.”


    My theory is Luan just wants to keep scanning me in case I do something that will make him famous. So, I will remain under official observation until he finds a more interesting lab rat.


    The twelve and counting Ladies and I move this impromptu tea party out into the garden, where five tables have been laid out with a full tea service, complete with snacks.


    It’s a nice private courtyard on the opposite side of the manor from Jun’s office. Hopefully, the invasion of Ladies won’t disturb him.


    I think of this courtyard as the rose courtyard, because it is lined with all different varieties of roses. The gardeners say that except for the dead of winter there is always something blooming here.


    The food might not be the fanciest of snacks. Heck, a few of them look suspiciously like leftovers from yesterday’s tea. But the head chef clearly went out of her way to make them look fancy with a fresh berry drizzle here and an artfully arranged cut vegetables there.


    Her terror of me is most convenient even if yesterday’s executions gave me nightmares.


    We fill four of the tables and the fifth has a few seats open for any stragglers. Given how status obsessed their culture is, it takes them surprisingly little time to fill in the seats according to some pecking order I’m still working out.


    Closest to me are the Ladies whose families, clans and businesses have the most important monetary ties to Lord White Fang. So, Lady Yan takes the seat to my right and Lady Deng takes the seat to my left.


    Heaven forbid, that one should get so much as an inch ahead of the other. They drink the same tea and eat exactly the same number of snacks.


    The other Ladies watch them eat with the same anticipation of a gambler about to watch the game he bet on.


    Lady Yan says, “Now that you’ve recovered Lord Liang has been most generous with you. You two are starting to settle down, right milady?”If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    With a calm tone of voice, I clarify, “The Lord and I are only dear friends.”


    Then Lady Deng says, “I understand completely, milady. I remember being young and my family not approving of then young master Deng. But Lord Liang is a powerful and successful man. I’m sure they will come around soon.”


    “After everything that’s happened, I’m grateful to have such a reliably friend as Lord Liang. But I think I’m past the point of getting my family’s permission.” I don’t even know if that distance can be measured in miles.


    There is a chorus from the other ladies trying to show their support before a polite chatter fills the courtyard. Lady Yan and Lady Deng keep trying to one up themselves about something to do with bolts of cloth and such and such weaving that I fail to understand.


    Instead of redirecting the conversation, I let them have at each other while listening to the chatter. Apparently, several of the other ladies are going to spread rumors about me while I’m in earshot.


    According to a very knowledgeable lady in pink, Jun and I are star crossed lovers. My parents were against the match because of the political situation in the Golden Bamboo Forest, so I ran away with him.


    Then my (nonexistent) older brother came to bring me home and I refused with a fiery speech that was so impassioned he beat me half to death. I wear the veil and discarded my family name since I’m still in hiding, which makes absolute perfect sense given how bold Jun has been projecting his location.


    I tell myself it’s not worth denying it again. They are only going to comfort me more. Why believe anything until it’s been officially denied?


    I would rather deal with the head butler than this flock of beauties. But I do my duty to a tee.


    One of the old bats who sat at the table to my right, comes over to me. She’s wearing in a heavily embroidered green dress and not a strand of her silver hair dares to fall out of a severe bun at the back of her head.


    She says, “Milday, thank you for this most sumptuous tea. If you like that blend, I think you’ll like the spring white tea I brought you today. Perhaps, you would like to open it and let us all try it before we go?”


    Opening a gift from a visitor in front of the other guests is rude and using it now would be tantamount to saying that the White Fang Manor needs charity and was ill-prepared to receive guests. Or just make me look like an idiot.


    I say, “I’ll look forward to trying it later. If you are in the mood for a white tea, I’m sure we have some to that will fulfill your craving.” I wave one of the maids over and continue, “Go and bring a selection for Lady Xue.”


    She hides her frustration well and thanks me politely. But I’m not falling for obvious traps today. Perhaps it was worth it to read all those etiquette books while I was trapped in bed?


    It takes another hour before the first Lady leaves and an hour after that for the last one to go.


    I retreat to my office to recover. Inside, the mound of gifts covers my entire desk.


    Sighing, I sit down and carefully open each one. The first few are normal: a fancy lacquer box, embroidered gloves, tea. I make a list of who gave what so I can send the mandatory thank yous.


    I have the maids cycle through my office to put the gifts away. But then I open a small box and inside is the skimpiest negligee I have ever scene.


    As if sensing underwear, the head butler walks in to help deal with the gifts when I’m still frozen in shock holding it up. His eyes twinkle in approval.


    I slam it back into the box. He gives me a polite bow.


    I would throw it out if I wasn’t worried about a butler taking it to wear. But I don’t want any of them getting turned on over the fact I was the previous owner. It will not be the next pair of lucky boxers.


    After he takes a set of normal gifts out the door, I put it in my locked drawer and decide that future me will use it for kindling.


    The only problem is that it’s just the first of the sexual gifts as if I had hosted a wild bachelorette party instead of an accidental tea.


    In the end, I give up and just let one of the maids take it all away with the instruction to store it out of my way.


    The last thing I do is write a quick letter to the head chef, praising her skill at throwing together such a tea party at the last minute. I even throw in a few pieces of silver.


    Yesterday was certainly about the stick, but I can throw a carrot in here of there. I don’t want all the people working directly under me to live a life of terror at my presence.


    Knowing that none of her staff would steal directly from her, I leave the letter with one of the cooks and call it a day.