After Nanny Xu left, Gu Deshao remained silent for a long time.
The anger had passed, leaving behind only exhaustion—his eyes vacant, as if all the light had drained from him.
In truth, what Concubine Song had once said was right: who had truly driven Ji Shi to her death?
It had been him. He had pushed her, step by step, into despair.
Although the rhubarb root had not directly caused her death, it was undeniable that Song Miaohua had harbored the intent to harm. The truth was clear now: he and Song Miaohua had conspired—knowingly or not—in the slow, cruel erosion of Ji Shi’s life.
Standing alone before his desk, Gu Deshao stared down at the brush in his hand. The fine wolf-hair tip had soaked through the paper, blurring the characters into an inky blot.
A summer breeze drifted in from the open window, carrying with it the faint fragrance of blooming jade zanzhi blossoms, filling the room with their ghostly perfume.
Gu Deshao slumped into the grand armchair behind him. After a pause, he buried his face in his hands and sobbed quietly.
This, perhaps, was Heaven’s punishment—for him to live out the rest of his days under the torment of guilt so sharp it gnawed at his soul.
—
Outside, a group of stewards had been grumbling about the dismissal of Steward Sun. In their eyes, the man had served the Gu household faithfully for years. He had never committed any serious offense. How could the Eldest Miss simply cast him out as she pleased?
What authority did they have anymore if she could do that?
Fueled by righteous indignation, they banded together and went to Juyliu Pavilion to petition Gu Deshao.
He received them in the flower hall.
Each of them voiced their dissatisfaction, stating that the Eldest Miss had overstepped. How could she punish as she pleased? It was unjust, and they could not accept it. Steward Sun had worked tirelessly for the family—did he deserve such an end?
Gu Deshao listened in silence.
But deep down, he understood. The reason Steward Sun had dared to disrespect Chao’er was precisely because they all believed that, with Ji Shi dead, Concubine Song would soon be promoted. That Chao’er no longer mattered.
And now, here they were—finally bold enough to show their contempt to her face.
Just as one steward was about to continue, Gu Deshao’s voice rang out slowly:
“From this day forth, in all matters of this household, what the Eldest Miss says is law. There is no need to ask me.”
The stewards were stunned. The Master was siding with the Eldest Miss… to this extent?
He continued,
“Anyone who dares disobey her, who refuses to follow her orders, will be expelled—just like Steward Sun.”
Panic flickered across their faces. No one dared to speak. They bowed and retreated hastily.
The moment they left, they scrambled to find out what had actually happened. Only then did they learn that Concubine Song was now under house arrest, unable to interfere in household affairs. And the Eldest Miss now had Nanny Xu, Xue Sixteen, and—most importantly—the Master’s support.
How could Concubine Song possibly compare?
Not one dared to stir trouble again. The Eldest Miss had personally ordered Steward Sun beaten and cast out, and the Master had not said a word in protest. Who would dare oppose her now?
Those who had once hoped to curry favor with Concubine Luo knew now—that path was closed.
—
The next day, Nanny Xu returned to the accounting office to check Ji Shi’s inventory against the household ledger. No one dared treat her with the slightest disrespect. Even a steward from the Attending Service Division personally came to assist her and said:
“…Concubine Song complained that the two maids she was given were no good, so I sent two new ones—nine or ten years old—to replace them. What do you think, Nanny Xu?”
She nodded. The steward continued with a smile,
“These two are from ruined merchant families. They’re spoiled, concubine-born girls, just recently sold off. No one’s taught them how to behave yet.”
Nanny Xu thought to herself: The Eldest Miss’s methods truly put fear into their hearts.
These people were fence-sitters, turning whichever way the wind blew—and now the wind was hers.
She packed Ji Shi’s belongings into boxes and had servants carry them back to Qingtong Courtyard. There were so many items that Jinchao had set aside several rear rooms and had them cleaned for use as storerooms. Nanny Xu alone held the keys.
But this wasn’t the end. Ji Shi’s personal effects were one matter. Now came the task of managing her dowry properties.
When Ji Shi had fallen ill, much of the work regarding the farmland, shops, and estates had been left unfinished. Nanny Xu had made a few decisions, but now that Jinchao had taken over, it was like a tidal wave of responsibilities.
Nanny Xu helped organize the letters arriving from all directions and said:
“…The steward from the Xianghe estate wishes to visit you. Heavy summer rains have flooded over ten mu of fruit seedlings. He wants to know if you think the land should be planted with something else instead. That soil may no longer suit fruit trees…”
Jinchao rested her forehead on one hand, clearly overwhelmed.
Managing the inner courtyard was one thing—but business?
She barely understood it.
What fruit trees were suitable? If not fruit trees, then what? She had no idea!
She gave Nanny Xu instructions:
“Have him write me a detailed report instead. Tell him to describe the soil, the trees he tried to grow, and list a few alternatives he thinks might work. Xianghe is so far from Shian—if he comes here and back, the trees will be long drowned. Tell him not to come.”
Nanny Xu acknowledged the order and fetched paper and brush to write the reply.
Just then, Caifu entered, drenched from the rain outside. Her pale blue skirt had turned a deep green from the water. She set down a bundle, then quickly wrung out her clothes and dried off before stepping into the study.
“Miss, a maid from the outer courtyard just delivered this.”
She lifted the bundle in her arms for Jinchao to see.
Jinchao looked up.
In Caifu’s hands was a cloisonné enamel flowerpot—exquisitely crafted. Inside was an unusual plant, thick-leaved and covered in long brown spines.
“What is that?”
“From the Marquis of Changxing’s estate,” Caifu said. “The pageboy said the Young Marquis had a message for you.” She thought for a moment.
“He said, ‘Though no flower blooms for a hundred days, I guarantee this one will stay green for that long. Don’t worry.’ Oh—and he said it’s called a ‘cactus’.”
Jinchao couldn’t help laughing aloud.
Ye Xian—how amusing he is.
She had Caifu bring the cactus closer for a better look. The thing was all spines and wild angles—oddly defiant.
“Place it on the treasure shelf,” she instructed. “Face it eastward, tuck it back a bit—don’t let it poke anyone.”
Gazing at it for a while, Jinchao felt her heart lighten slightly.
She stepped out to the veranda. The summer rain poured down in sheets—monsoon-like—but it would soon pass.
“Any news from Concubine Song’s side?” she asked.
Caifu replied,
“The new maids from the service division are completely unruly. They jump rope at night, keeping her from sleeping. If she asks them to do anything, they make a scene and refuse. Now she has to manage everything herself.”
“And that maid Banlian? She was chased back to Cuixuan Courtyard by one of the old women. So Concubine Song’s truly in a pitiful state.”
Jinchao smiled faintly.
“With the way she’s struggling, that child likely won’t make it to birth.”
Concubine Song probably wouldn’t last much longer. Now that Father knew the truth of her actions, he would only grow more disgusted.
Caifu murmured softly,
“I rather hope she doesn’t give birth. Just seeing her is a sore sight…”
That was unlike Caifu—she was always the most careful and restrained one.
Jinchao smiled faintly.
“Rare of you to show such ruthlessness.”
Caifu blushed, clearly a bit embarrassed.
“I only said it out of anger, Miss. I… I truly hate her.”
At that, Jinchao fell silent.
She, too, had thought about what would happen if Concubine Song were to lose the child.
Now that Song Miaohua was confined to Linyan Pavilion, her only remaining leverage was the child she carried. But with her secret plot with Steward Sun exposed, she had no hope of regaining favor. If the child were gone, she’d have nothing left—utterly unable to rise again.
Truth be told, Jinchao hadn’t originally intended to target the child.
But when the thought of miscarriage arose, an old memory came rushing back—one she could never quite forget.
She could still see Yu Wanxue, drenched in blood the day she miscarried. Chen Xuanqing’s gaze had been like a blade—pure hatred, as if he would have killed her then and there. Everyone around had silently blamed her, though no one dared speak it aloud—after all, she had been the main wife.
But no one had known… she truly hadn’t known Yu Wanxue was pregnant.
If she had known, she would never have gone so far.
Lost in thought, Jinchao’s gaze drifted toward the grapevine trellis outside.
Concubine Song had destroyed her mother in the previous life, and again in this one, she had tried to harm her. Did Jinchao hate her?
She hated her so deeply she could drink her blood and feast on her flesh.
And that child—concieved while her mother lay gravely ill, a child she had known about even before her mother’s final breath—how could she not feel revulsion?
At the time, she had been too overwhelmed with funeral arrangements to deal with Song Miaohua. She had once thought slow torment would be more satisfying. But now, perhaps Grandmother’s method was best—a swift, clean cut that ensured Song Miaohua would never rise again.
Besides, if that child were born, he would only bring disaster. If he ever learned that Song Miaohua was his mother, who knew what chaos he might stir?
And with Gu Lan around, there was no way the truth would be kept from him.
She thought for a long while. Caifu, sensing the mood, said nothing.
Only after a long silence did she hear the Eldest Miss speak softly:
“Caifu… you were right. I hadn’t seen it clearly.”
Caifu noticed the faint smile at the corner of Jinchao’s lips and blinked, slightly puzzled.
What had she said that was “right”…?
Hadn’t she just made an offhand comment?
—
Rain poured down like silver blades from the sky.
Gu Lan stood silently outside Linyan Pavilion. Beside her, Mujin held a bamboo-handled oil-paper umbrella, shielding her from the downpour.
Everything was quiet. Still. Oppressively so.
Several old women barred the entrance.
Gu Lan’s skirt was soaked through. The cold crept up her body like a snake, damp and chilling. She stared coldly at the women blocking her path and said in a low voice:
“Don’t think I don’t know—my mother is being mistreated inside. Who gave you the gall to block me?”
One of the women chuckled.
“Second Miss, we’re only doing as instructed. No use blaming us. You’d best go back—Master already said if you come again to see your mother, there will be punishment. Concubine Song is just fine inside. Don’t overthink it.”
Gu Lan bit down on her lip, so hard it drew blood. Her tears mixed with the rain.
They thought she didn’t know?
Banlian had told her everything when she was sent back.
Though her mother had never held the title of principal wife, she had always been a noble concubine—when had she ever been treated like this?
Now even lowly little maids dared to bully her?
She had begged her father for help. He not only refused but scolded her harshly, telling her to mind her place.
She lifted her eyes toward the courtyard. In the covered walkway, she saw two young maids giggling, catching raindrops off the eaves with their hands.
She cursed them silently.
Her mother was pregnant, yet not one maid was inside attending to her?
This wouldn’t do.
She had to come up with a plan.
Gu Lan hesitated for a moment, then shot a venomous glare at the two old women before turning away with Mujin and heading back to Cuixuan Courtyard.