Tao Yiran turned her head slightly. She did not fully understand what Xin An’s words meant, but they struck a chord in her heart. From the age of fifteen onward, any gathering she attended inevitably became her stage—she was always the most captivating young lady present. If, from now on, she could never again play the qin in public, then what was the worth of all those years of bitter practice?
Xin An said nothing further, her gaze fixed ahead as she followed along. Tao Yiran took great pride in her qin skills. In her previous life, after Tang Mo’s death, she would often play deep into the night, claiming it was because her heart was heavy with grief and longing for him. At first Xin An believed her. Later, she realised it was all to entice Tang Rong—whenever the music began, even if he was asleep, he would wake, throw on a robe, and go to her.
The qin’s sound was pleasant, but Tao Yiran’s playing was something Xin An never wished to hear again.
The maid in green trailing behind Tao Yiran cast a swift glance at Xin An’s back before lowering her eyes and following quietly.
Before long, a waterside pavilion came into view, draped on all sides with gauzy aqua-blue curtains. A light breeze stirred them into gentle motion, breathing life into the entire Shuihua Garden. As they drew nearer, a faint coolness could be felt. A quick sweep of the eyes revealed the source—a neat row of three-legged bronze tiger-headed jars, each filled with ice. The refreshing air drifted from them.
Within the pavilion, many ladies were already seated. Several whose family standing did not match the Tang family’s rose to exchange pleasantries. Old Madame Tang greeted them with polite smiles before heading directly to the foremost seat, where an elderly lady with a full head of silver hair sat, her bearing dignified and luxurious.
Old Madame Tang stepped forward with a smile and a slight bow. “Duchess, how has your health been of late?”
“Well, well—come now, Old Madam, no need for such formality.”
This was none other than the Duchess of En, the Empress Dowager’s elder sister-in-law—a lady of the highest standing in the capital.
“From a distance, I saw you walking with such light steps. Clearly, your health is robust,” the Duchess remarked, her eyes turning to Xin An and Tao Yiran. “And these must be the Marquisate’s two newly wedded granddaughters-in-law?”
At once, every gaze in the pavilion settled on them. Everyone knew Tao Yiran, and though Xin An’s face was unfamiliar, who in the capital did not know she had originally been wed to Tang Rong—ceremonies and all—only to end up the wife of his younger brother? The details of that switch still piqued many people’s curiosity.
Old Madame Tang smiled as she made the introductions. “This is the young lady from the Tao family—now my eldest grandson’s wife. And this is the young lady from the Xin family of Huai Jiang—now my second grandson’s wife.”
“You two, step forward and greet the Duchess.”
They both stepped forward and offered graceful curtsies, their manners impeccable. The Duchess of En nodded repeatedly in approval. “One is serene and refined, the other bright and radiant—two beauties entering the Marquisate’s gates on the same day. Old Madam, you are truly blessed.”
Several people smiled and nodded. Judging by looks alone, the two ranked among the finest in the capital. One lady spoke up, her voice lightly teasing: “Old Madam, I hear that this young lady from Huai Jiang was the one originally betrothed to the Heir of the Marquisate?”
The speaker was Madam Zhang, wife of the Prefect of Jingji, who seemed to bear some old grudge against Tang Gang. Though her face was smiling, a flicker of malice flashed in her eyes.
Old Madame Tang replied with composure, “Indeed, that was so. But destiny’s arrangements are beyond human control. Through an unexpected twist, the match was set right, and now all are content. Truly, the word fate is a most wondrous thing.”
Madam of the Yongshuang Bo Residence smiled in agreement. “My son, Zhuang Shi, serves in the Northern Garrison. He once told me of Second Young Master Tang—spoke highly of his steadiness and sense of responsibility, and said that whenever he mentions his wife, there is a smile in his eyes. Clearly, his affection is sincere. Yes indeed, fate is a marvellous thing.”
The Marchioness of Qing also added her praise, taking the opportunity to commend Tang Mo as well. “Second Young Master Tang is most considerate. Concerned that his wife, newly arrived in the capital, might have no companions, he even hosted a gathering to introduce her to acquaintances and ensure she was looked after. Thoughtful and thorough—such men are rare.”
Her son, Yan Shimao, had already informed her of Tang Mo’s invitation, and she had also received generous gifts from the Tang family’s second young madam. Naturally, she was happy to speak well of her.
With these two women setting the tone, several more ladies soon chimed in, each recounting some praiseworthy detail about Tang Mo.
People were ever prone to follow the tide. With things turning this way, those like Madam Zhang—who had hoped to see the Tang family become a laughingstock—could only abandon such thoughts. A mere moment’s reflection was enough for Old Madame Tang to understand why several of the ladies had spoken in Tang Mo’s favour today. Her regard for Tang Mo and Xin An deepened. She could only wonder whether Tao Yiran would notice the undercurrents and think of a way to catch up.
Just then, a maid arrived to announce that the Second Prince’s Consort had arrived.
At those words, Tao Yiran visibly flinched, then unobtrusively stepped half a pace back—no doubt afraid the Consort might bring up how she had once sung and wept before the Second Prince.
Xin An’s lips curved faintly, but she said nothing, turning with the others to stand aside in welcome.
From afar, they saw a woman in palace attire approaching, surrounded by a bevy of noble ladies. Her ornaments chimed musically as she walked, her presence resplendent. The crowd bowed in greeting. The woman stopped three steps from the Duchess of En and inclined her head slightly. “Is the Duchess well?”
By rights, she should have addressed her as “Grand-Aunt,” but she used the same title as everyone else—“Duchess”—and from that single form of address, one could already taste a certain meaning.
Xin An’s thoughts stirred. She and Tang Mo had made discreet inquiries about the Duke of En’s household. It was said that the Emperor had been born of Empress Dowager Zhou, meaning that all the Emperor’s sons carried the Duke of En’s blood. Yet the Emperor kept the Zhou family at a distance, and the princes preferred to be close to their mothers’ kin. Not one had been willing to marry a Zhou family daughter. In fact, the only Zhou woman to enter the imperial harem in recent years had miscarried, damaging her health and leaving her unable to bear children again. Most crucial of all, the Duke of En’s household had, in recent years, no one holding high office.
Though Xin An had yet to untangle all the twists and turns of this matter, given what she knew of the future, she could already see that the Duke of En’s current glory was no more than oil atop a blazing fire. Yet in her memory, the Duke’s household had never truly fallen.
The Duchess treated the Second Prince’s Consort with courtesy, but no warmth. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, more arrivals were announced—this time, the Princess Consort of Prince Cheng and the Princess Consort’s daughter-in-law, the Heir’s Wife of the Cheng Prince’s household.
The Princess Consort was well preserved; the years had left little mark on her face. By her side, Li Yuyan was scarcely recognisable from the woman Xin An had met before. Now carefully adorned, she exuded a more stately, imperious air—one that warned she was not easily approachable.
After the formal greetings, Li Yuyan even turned to Xin An. “Today, Sister Xin looks especially radiant.”
The silver-flower tea from Huai Jiang had won her the favour of Prince Cheng himself. Even her husband had said it would be well to see more of Xin An. Huai Jiang’s merchant clans were many and varied in influence, but the Xin family had always been under the Marquisate’s sway. Though the Marquisate’s power had waned, the elder Tang still carried weight. In the past, they could only look from afar, but now Xin An had presented herself—there was no reason not to accept.
Xin An returned the curtsey with a faint smile. “Seeing the Heir’s Wife again today, I almost did not recognise you at first glance. Your natural grace is so dazzling, one cannot look away.”