“Is this what you’ve been doing all day?”
After a long and tiring day, Tang Mo finally returned home. The moment he stepped inside, Xin An eagerly showed off her new hair ornaments and freshly tinted nails.
“Don’t underestimate this,” she said with pride. “That physician, Mistress Zhao, spent the whole day attending to Mother and me. It’s a painstaking process.”
Tang Mo held her hand and examined her fingertips with care. Finally, he nodded. “They do look beautiful. Don’t tell me you dyed your feet too?”
“Of course I did.”
After sitting down and taking a sip of tea, Tang Mo felt the weariness in his body ease. “You truly are a little enchantress,” he said with a teasing smile. “No one else even sees it.”
Xin An leaned closer with a laugh. “But I see it. It makes me happy just looking at it. I’ve never had my nails tinted before, or invited a physician to give me a facial and loosen my back. You’ve no idea how comfortable it is—what a pity I missed out before.”
Tang Mo gave a mock groan. “I toil and sweat outside while you live a life of indulgence at home. I’m so jealous.”
Then he crossed one leg over the other and added cheerfully, “But seeing you dressed like a fairy the moment I come home—it makes everything worth it.”
Xin An burst into laughter. “At least you have good taste.”
After a round of playful chatter, Tang Mo mentioned what he had seen earlier. “When I came back, I ran into Tao Yiran next door. She looked like she’d just returned from outside, eyes swollen like walnuts. Do you know what happened?”
“I don’t.”
She truly didn’t. “Mother might know, but she clearly doesn’t intend to tell me.”
“I suspect she went personally to the Count of Changning’s residence to apologize,” Tang Mo guessed. “Madame Tao came this morning, and they left together.”
Tang Mo sighed. “That Countess of Changning is ruthless. Did she get hold of some leverage? Otherwise, why force such a grand apology over a minor incident? It seems excessive.”
“Who knows?” Xin An looked up from her teacup. “You’re not feeling sorry for her, are you?”
Tang Mo snorted. “I only want to know what’s going on.”
Xin An huffed. “Hmph, you’ve definitely got a guilty conscience.”
Tang Mo rubbed his forehead. “Fine, I won’t say another word. Let her cry herself dry. I just want to know what exactly happened.”
“It must have something to do with the Tao family,” Xin An said. “I’m not sure what it is, but it’s probably serious. Mother’s silence means it may even implicate the Marquis’s household.”
She didn’t voice the rest of her thoughts—how humiliating it had been in her past life to lose to Tao Yiran. To deal with her now would be child’s play. How disgraceful I was then…
“Tomorrow,” she continued, “I’ll send a gift to the Second Prince’s residence, thanking the Second Princess Consort for her kindness at the Water and Blossoms Banquet.”
“I also had Nanny Wang deliver a Huai Jiang specialty gift to Madam Liao today, at the Liao residence. I told her I was moved by how well we got along at the banquet and wished for her to try some of Huai Jiang’s finest tea. She even sent a return gift—two packets of pastries from Xuzhou, said to be from the Xu family’s caravan.”
“No matter what,” she said with satisfaction, “the acquaintance is made. And since Madam Ma introduced me to Madam Liao, she too must receive a token gift. Which means our stock of Huai Jiang specialties is running low. Later, I’ll write a letter to Mother and ask her to send more.”
Tang Mo gave her a thumbs-up. “The illustrious Miss Xin, now the Second Young Madam of the Tang family—truly formidable. My greatest fortune indeed.”
“Don’t just send a letter,” he added. “Tomorrow I’ll purchase some local gifts from the capital as well. We’ll send them along together—it’ll please Father-in-law and Mother-in-law.”
Xin An returned the gesture. “Second Young Master Tang is remarkably thoughtful.”
She laughed freely, delighted by his praise. Nothing spurred her more than being appreciated for her efforts.
Tang Mo, equally pleased, said, “Everyone’s been admiring my new robes lately. Next time I’ll host a banquet and invite them all with their wives. You can meet the ladies yourself. With your charm, I’m sure within three months you’ll be gliding through the capital’s social circles like a fish in water.”
“And I’ll bask in your reflected glory.”
Xin An, naturally, did not refuse. The more friends, the smoother the road. Even superficial acquaintances were better than none at all. “There’s one more thing,” she said.
She turned to the drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to Tang Mo. “I made this list today—it includes the people Tang Rong once tried to win over. You know I’m not familiar with outside matters, but I remember some of those around him. Whether you can win them over now depends on your ability.”
“These here,” she added, tapping a few names, “are the ones you must avoid—people whose connections ended badly in my past life.”
Tang Mo read the list, his expression gradually darkening. When he finally looked up, his eyes were complicated. “If I can’t surpass the man next door even with this knowledge, then I truly am useless.”
Xin An gave no answer. If the two of us working together still can’t outdo that beast next door, then that would indeed be shameful.
Meanwhile, in Spring Blossom Courtyard, Tao Yiran sat at the edge of her bed, crying bitterly as though she had suffered a world of injustice. The Countess of Changning’s words that afternoon had been nothing short of vicious—utterly stripping the Marquis’s residence of face, and trampling the Tao family’s name into the dust. She had stopped just short of calling Tao Yiran a courtesan from the pleasure quarters.
After such humiliation, Tao Yiran had expected Tang Rong to at least offer comfort for the sake of their marriage.
Yet now, the heir of the Marquis of Wei Yuan sat with a face as dark as ink.
Tang Rong had been his father’s pride since childhood, expected to carry the Tang name to glory. He had not disappointed—ever since he first began his studies, he had worked tirelessly. Though not claiming mastery in both civil and martial arts, he was undoubtedly among the best of the capital’s young men, widely praised for his excellence.
His life had been smooth—until marriage. A merchant’s daughter was, after all, unworthy of his station. Yet that was not something he could change. Opportunities, however, often arrived unannounced.
On the day of his wedding, the moment he stepped into the bridal courtyard, he sensed something amiss. When he entered the bridal chamber, he realized the bride had been switched. He hesitated only briefly before deciding to go along with it. After all, both the Tao family and Tao Yiran far outshone the Xin family and Xin An.
At a minimal cost, he had gained a wife who pleased him. He thought his life would only get smoother—with a father-in-law to aid his career and a gifted, graceful wife at home. Who could have foreseen…
Now he was filled with regret, helplessness, humiliation, and rage. The affection in his gaze toward Tao Yiran had entirely vanished.
Tao Yiran wept still. “I didn’t choose where I was born. Even within my own household, few know my grandmother’s true origins—and she’s hardly left home in years. Why must they fixate on her birth?”
Seeing Tang Rong remain cold and unresponsive, panic began to stir within her. Then she recalled her grandmother’s teachings, and her mother’s repeated instructions earlier that day. Slowly, she composed herself.
She rose, walked over, and knelt before him, resting her hands on his knees. Lifting her chin to reveal the pale curve of her neck, a tear rolled down her cheek. “Rong-lang,” she murmured softly, “are you… regretting it?”
“Have I brought you shame?”
Tang Rong met her gaze. There was no denying Tao Yiran’s beauty—fragile, luminous, as though she might shatter at any moment. His heart wavered for an instant, but anger quickly returned. The disgrace her family had brought upon him was unbearable.
She clasped his hand and continued, tears brimming, a faint smile touching her lips. “At that spring’s Peach Blossom Banquet, when I first saw you, I could not help but think—what a blessing it would be to marry such a man: upright as pine and cypress, pure and gentle as a mountain spring.
“I prayed to the Bodhisattva day and night, yet when I heard you already had a fiancée, my heart turned to ashes. I thought then—if I cannot marry you, it matters not whom I marry. But Heaven took pity on me. When my bridal veil was lifted and I saw you before me, I was overjoyed—and terrified it was but a dream.”