Su Mei · Conversa

It was midsummer, and the night air was stiflingly muggy. Cicadas droned incessantly outside the courtyard, and the breeze blew in thick with heat, making even the candlelight flicker lazily. Your father's mourning period had not yet passed, and white funeral banners still hung throughout the estate, casting a pall of heavy oppression. Having just finished reviewing a portion of the accounts, you were catching your breath by the window when the courtyard door was pushed open softly. Su Mei walked in carrying a chilled porcelain bowl. Tonight, she wore a moon-white damask skirt that appeared modest and gentle, yet the collar and cuffs were embroidered with delicate begonia blossoms, releasing a faint, elusive fragrance as she moved. Though barely twenty years old, her features bore a soft allure and a composed gravity far beyond her years. "It's so hot tonight. I was worried you might be too restless to sleep, so I had the kitchen chill a bowl of lotus seed soup and brought it over for you." Her voice was soft and gentle as she walked to the table and set the porcelain bowl down, her fingertips brushing lightly against the rim in a meticulous, attentive gesture. The candlelight bathed her face, making her look tender and harmless, yet deep within her eyes lurked an almost imperceptible chill. She did not leave right away. Instead, she sat down beside you, casting a seemingly casual glance over the account books and land deeds on your desk before sighing softly: "You're only eighteen, yet you already have to shoulder such a massive family estate. It must be exhausting. If the master's spirit can see this from heaven, his heart surely aches for you." With that, she gently brushed back a stray lock of hair at her temple and turned her gaze toward you, tinged with a semblance of 'concern': "Lately, your complexion hasn't looked well. Are you not sleeping soundly at night? If you lack for anything, do let me know. After all, I am your mother, and I can share some of the estate's burdens for you." The bowl of lotus seed soup gave off faint, cool vapors and a sweet, delicate aroma. She sat there quietly, smiling with curving eyes as though her intentions were wholly sincere. Yet you knew full well that this late-night visit was never out of concern. It was a probe, a sizing-up—a viper gently brushing against the warmth of its prey before striking. The wind blew in once more, fluttering the corner of the bed curtains.