Today, Xin An was deliberately playing the role of a naive and innocent girl—every expression and glance had been carefully rehearsed in front of the mirror countless times. She was determined to appear as someone pure and untouched by the ways of the world.
And sure enough, seeing her so guileless and cheerful, without the slightest hint of inferiority over her merchant background or tears over the swapped marriage match, the ladies around her broke into laughter. Even Li Yuyan, who had remained silent until now, chuckled and said, “Sister Xin truly is a woman of genuine character. But I must say, the real surprise is Second Young Master Tang. Is he really as wonderful as you say?”
“But of course! He always has that look like he needs to be taught a lesson—easy to tease.”
She burst into laughter at her own words, prompting the others to laugh as well. Just then, music and drums echoed from downstairs—the pre-show performers had already cleared the stage without anyone noticing. The main performance was about to begin.
Qiu Wenyuan brought up the play again, commenting on the two lead performers scheduled for today. Only then did she notice a few baskets set aside beside them. “These baskets—aren’t they ten taels each? Sister Xin, you certainly live in style.”
Salt merchants, after all—truly wealthy.
Despite how impressive they all seemed, their own monthly stipends were fixed. And more often than not, they spent more than they received. With many siblings at home and dowries set in stone, even when those dowries were generous, they were mostly decorative items. Actual silver was always limited.
“It’s the only thing I have worth showing off,” Xin An joked. “I’m the only daughter in the family, so my dowry was more generous. But alas, though my purse is full, my head is empty. Sister Qiu, you’ll have to look after me in the future.”
“Gladly! My head is—” She was about to say ‘full of wit’ but thought better of it and laughed, “It’s really Sister Yan who’s the brightest among us. She’s officially the capital’s top female scholar.”
Today’s play told the story of a young scholar on his way to take the imperial examinations. Along the road, he rescued a fox spirit. Before the scholar died of illness, he remained deeply concerned for his wife, child, and elderly mother. The fox then transformed into the scholar to care for his family. But in the end, a Daoist priest specializing in demon expulsion discovered her identity. As the fox was about to be slain, the scholar’s mother shielded her with her own body, weeping as she revealed she had known the truth all along.
The actors’ singing and performances were truly moving. Especially the scholar’s farewell aria, in which he expressed his unwillingness to part from his loved ones—that segment drew tears from all of them. Qiu Wenyuan sobbed the most, but even Xin An found herself deeply pulled into the story. It dredged up painful memories from her past life—particularly the moment she learned her parents had come to the capital searching for her, only to meet a tragic end. Her tears wouldn’t stop. In the end, she cried even harder than Qiu Wenyuan.
“Reward them—Chunyang, go reward them! Pin their hair full of silver paper blossoms. If it’s not enough, go buy more!”
Qiu Wenyuan wiped her tears. “Sister Xin, how are you crying more than me?”
Xin An’s eyes were red and puffy. “I miss my parents. They’re so far away. I don’t even know when I’ll see them again.”
The others all grew quiet and sympathetic. Their own marriages were nearby—visiting their maternal homes was a matter of a short carriage ride. But Xin An had married so far from home, and on top of that, had been tricked. They couldn’t help but pity her.
What none of them said aloud was this: A drunken groom mistaking the bridal chamber? That sort of thing—none of them would believe it. Even in common households, weddings had brothers assigned to handle the drinking. Guests might make merry, but not to the point of recklessness. Everyone knew the groom had duties that night. Could the Marquis household really have made no preparations?
Even if Tang Rong had truly been drunk—could Tao Yiran have been drunk too?
She had attended countless banquets. Could she not recognize her own groom?
The truth was simple: one didn’t want to marry a merchant’s daughter, and the other was eager to become a marquis’s consort.
The unfortunate ones were Tang Mo and Xin An—forced together so that the others could get what they wanted.
Yan Wenhui poured her a cup of tea. “Come, have some water. We’ve only just begun and you’re already crying like this—how will you handle the rest?”
“They say it gets even sadder later on.”
Xin An wiped her tears, took a few deep breaths, and sipped her tea. “If I cry now, maybe I won’t later.”
She was beautiful to begin with, and now, with tears glistening in her eyes, she looked utterly enchanting. Yan Wenhui teased, “No wonder you said Second Brother Tang likes to tease you, takes you out, treats you well. If I were a man, I’d keep you cradled in the palm of my hand.”
“Huh?”
Xin An looked up with a dazed expression, feigning confusion. Qiu Wenyuan laughed again. “She’s probably just like that when she lures away Second Young Master Tang’s soul—look, she’s even charming me now!”
Xin An felt like she should be blushing at this point. Unfortunately, though she could control her expression, she couldn’t control her ears—which had turned bright red. She turned away with mock petulance. “You’re awful! I’m already crying so much, and you’re still teasing me.”
And that performance—so coy and girlish—even she felt a chill run down her spine.
I’ve really become addicted to acting innocent.
After a good cry, her heart felt much lighter. When she looked at the stage again, she still thought it was beautiful—but the emotional tug had faded. Meanwhile, Qiu Wenyuan beside her was still quietly dabbing at her eyes.
When the final scene came—where the elderly mother threw herself over the fox spirit and told the Daoist priest she had long known the truth—tears flowed once more. Upstairs and downstairs, men and women alike wiped their eyes. Even Li Yuyan’s eyes were red.
“This performance was truly marvelous. The script was excellent, and the actors were even better. But look at me—my makeup’s all cried off. How am I supposed to go out now?”
Xin An let out a long sigh. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Qiu Wenyuan’s maid stepped forward with a makeup box to fix her mistress’s face. The maids of Yan Wenhui and Li Yuyan also got to work. The three ladies sat still while the tear streaks on their faces were quickly covered.
Only Xin An, caught unprepared, sat there helpless. She had just opened her mouth to speak when Nanfeng appeared, cradling a makeup box. She stepped forward and began touching up Xin An’s makeup with gentle, practiced hands.
Yan Wenhui chuckled. “This girl of yours is quite clever.”
Turns out, Nanfeng had seen how hard Xin An was crying and feared her makeup would be ruined. She’d discreetly consulted one of Yan Wenhui’s maids for advice, borrowed money from Chunyang, then rushed out of the teahouse to buy the necessary cosmetics—just barely making it back in time.
“She was sent to us by my mother-in-law. She can even read and write.”
Wang Shi had gifted Nanfeng to Tang Mo. Tang Mo didn’t want her, so Xin An took her in. By that logic, she was gifted to Xin An.
Nanfeng’s hands were skilled and light. In no time, Xin An once again looked like the dignified young madam she was. She took the small bronze mirror Nanfeng had bought and checked herself from left to right.
Qiu Wenyuan teased, “Are you entranced by your own beauty?”
Xin An played along with a grin. “How can I be this gorgeous?”
“Hahaha~”
The ladies all burst into laughter and rose to their feet to leave. It was just about time for lunch. Xin An asked if a place had already been arranged, and Yan Wenhui smiled, “Of course—it was booked in advance. We won’t let your stomach go hungry. Come along.”
The sunlight outside was a bit harsh, but thankfully their carriage was waiting just outside. Soon they arrived at the restaurant and were led to a private room. Free from the noise of the teahouse, the atmosphere became even more relaxed and friendly.
Xin An listened as they chatted over the meal. All of their husbands were what people called heaven’s favored sons—distinguished, talented, and outstanding in every way. When it came to scholarship and status, they left Tang Mo far behind.
Qiu Wenyuan, with her lively disposition, had been married just over a year. Her in-laws were kind, her husband considerate—she lived a carefree, cheerful life. But in Xin An’s memory, she was nothing like this. So many years later, the only impression she still held of Qiu Wenyuan was one word: sharp-tongued.
The Han family’s heir had multiple wives and concubines, with numerous children born of different mothers. The inner chambers of that household were anything but peaceful.