In a room in the Ding Family's rear quarters, thick with the fragrance of powder and perfume, groups of young maidens and married women surrounded Ding Zhanyun. Dressed in splendid attire, her swanlike neck held high and wearing a proud, spoiled expression, she answered their questions and basked in their admiration.
They asked whether she had been living well since marrying into the Meng Family, what the Meng Family's living conditions were like, what she did each day, and so on, hoping to learn more about the Meng Family.
As for their flattery, that was even more obvious. As General Yangwu's concubine, she was no ordinary woman and held no insignificant status.
Whether they had married out or remained unmarried, when facing Ding Zhanyun, once their sister, they consciously or unconsciously had to lower themselves a notch, then adopt social manners that would benefit them.
Some of these women were voluptuous, graceful as ripe red apples, their mature feminine charm rich and full; others still bore youthful, unripe looks, their childish innocence not yet faded, their thoughts filled with naïveté.
Ding Zhanyun handled such a scene quite appropriately. Though her little expressions remained proud and spoiled, and she occasionally revealed a flash of pride, she did not truly throw her weight around or act like a petty upstart. Instead, she presented herself as exceedingly generous and virtuous.
On one hand, she spoke sentimentally with the young ladies; on the other, she cultivated connections with the women who had either married out or married in.
Among them, Ding Zhanyun paid particular attention to a woman of around twenty-four or twenty-five, dressed as a married woman.
Her face was like a peach blossom, with bright eyes and pearly teeth, skin white as snow, and features of remarkable beauty and elegance. Her clothes