Baodi was the farthest from Shian, so by the time the Ji family received news of Ji Shi’s passing, it was already early the next morning.
Old Madam Ji (Wu Shi) was struck with both shock and grief. Without delay, she insisted on setting out for Shian in person. Her daughter-in-law, Madam Song, and her grandson Ji Yun’s wife, Madam Liu, both accompanied her.
When Jinchao heard that her maternal grandmother had arrived, she went to the Chuihua Gate to receive her.
Old Madam Ji stepped down from the carriage without even using the sedan stool. She marched straight toward Jinchao and demanded, “What exactly happened to your mother?”
Though her tone was harsh, it couldn’t mask the deep sorrow in her eyes.
Seeing her grandmother’s anxious face, the emotions Jinchao had been holding back over the past few days came rushing forth. She threw her arms around the old lady and wept bitterly.
How could she even begin to explain her mother’s death? That she had been driven to suicide by her husband and a concubine? That she had taken her own life by hanging? Her grandmother was already advanced in age—how could she bear to hear such things?
Old Madam Ji gently patted her back to comfort her. Seeing Jinchao sobbing so bitterly, this woman who had not shed tears for decades finally found her own eyes wet.
But it wasn’t something that could be concealed forever. Jinchao invited her grandmother to Xiexiao Courtyard and relayed the events of her mother’s death as calmly and plainly as she could.
Once she finished, Old Madam Ji narrowed her eyes, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. “Chao’er, where is your father?”
Gu Deshao had just heard of her arrival. He was lying on the heated kang bed when Steward Li came to report it, and before the steward even finished, a maid rushed in.
“Master, the Old Madam of the Ji family is already here—she’s waiting for you in the main hall.”
Gu Deshao hurried to tidy his mourning attire and made his way there.
The moment he stepped into the flower hall and caught sight of her, Old Madam Ji also advanced toward him. Before he could even call out “Mother,” her hand came flying across his face.
The slap stunned Gu Deshao. He clutched his face, momentarily unable to process what had just happened.
He was a dignified fifth-rank Senior Official in the Ministry of Revenue. Who dared strike him so easily—let alone across the face? Yet confronted by the grief and fury in Madam Ji’s gaze, he couldn’t utter a single word in defense.
“You said you would take good care of Han’er,” she spat, jabbing a finger at his face. “This is how you cared for her? Favoring a concubine and destroying your wife! Why has no censor impeached you yet? How can you still have the gall to stand before me? Letting Chao’er be bullied was one thing, but you even pushed Han’er to suicide… What exactly were you thinking? Do those vows you made when you married her mean nothing to you? All those books on virtue and righteousness—did you feed them to the dogs?”
Gu Deshao stood silent, shamed into speechlessness. Seeing his daughter watching him from behind the old matriarch, his expression turned ashen. “Mother… however you punish me, I deserve it. This is all my fault. I… I wronged Xiangjun…”
Old Madam Ji sneered. “Clever of you, now that you admit guilt, do you think that’s the end of it? That concubine of yours—I don’t even care to mention her name. If not for your indulgence, would she be so audacious today? And merely having her copy sutras is your idea of punishment? If it were up to me, I would’ve shaved her head and sent her to a nunnery by now!”
Gu Deshao said nothing.
After a long pause, he suddenly collapsed to the ground and began to sob uncontrollably, his whole body trembling.
“I don’t know what I can do to make up for Xiangjun’s death… Mother, if it makes you feel better, kick me as you please…”
He was like a child who had done something terribly wrong—pitiful, disheveled, at a total loss.
Jinchao couldn’t help but close her eyes and sigh. Her father’s disposition… It was no wonder he remained a mere Senior Official until his death. Without Lin Xianzhong’s support and the Ji family’s backing, he likely wouldn’t have even held that rank.
Old Madam Ji’s tone remained ice cold. “Why would I bother kicking you? Han’er is already gone. But mark my words—if I ever hear that another concubine or illegitimate child lays a finger on Chao’er, the Ji family will risk everything to bring you down with us!”
Gu Deshao trembled and nodded quickly. “You have my word… If that day ever comes again, I won’t even spare myself…”
Madam Ji then took Jinchao and left the Juyliu Pavilion.
She went to pay her respects before Ji Shi’s memorial tablet, offering incense, then accompanied Jinchao into the inner chambers. Taking her hand gently, she said, “…Things turned out this way, but the fault does not lie with your father alone. I scolded him in hopes of waking him up. Your mother’s nature was always too soft—and that, too, is my fault. I should’ve raised her myself instead of letting your great-grandmother coddle her into such fragility…”
“Don’t hate your father too much. He still gave you life and blood. As for that concubine, she’s already gone too far—if nothing else, at least he had some conscience left… If you ever grow weary of this place, come to Tongzhou. Grandmother will never let anyone wrong you.”
Hearing her grandmother’s words, Jinchao leaned her head gently against her lap, closing her eyes as she breathed in the faint sandalwood scent that clung to her. No matter what, her grandmother had always been the one who thought most deeply and thoroughly for her. She understood everything her grandmother had said. Her mother was gone, but she and her brother still had to live on. They couldn’t really cut ties with their father forever.
For a while, Old Madam Ji said nothing more, gently stroking Jinchao’s hair with a tender gaze. So young—barely past ten—and already motherless… such a bitter fate.
The more she thought of all that Jinchao had endured, the more determined she became to bring her under her wing, to shield her well. After all, she had watched this child grow up. But now that Ji Shi had passed, even if she hoped for Yao-ge’er to marry her, they would have to wait at least a year of mourning.
“That concubine… her name is Song Miaohua, yes? Where is she staying now?” Old Madam Ji asked casually.
Jinchao caught the steely glint in her grandmother’s eyes and immediately understood—she meant to eliminate Concubine Song for her. Smiling, she took her grandmother’s hand and said, “You need not worry about that, Grandmother. I certainly won’t let her off.”
Old Madam Ji smiled faintly. “I’ve always liked swift, decisive action. I don’t want her alive and in my sight. What I told your father—I meant every word. If she isn’t shaved bald and sent to a nunnery, I’ll see to it myself!”
Jinchao, however, believed that revenge should be slow and excruciating. Pain, after all, was best served long and lingering. But her grandmother was different—her methods were swift and merciless.
Old Madam Ji squeezed her hand tightly, her voice sorrowful and resolute. “No matter what, I will avenge your mother. You needn’t concern yourself with that Song woman—I’ll deal with her. Just keep an eye on Gu Lan… she’s no simple creature either.”
Jinchao said nothing more. Her grandmother had always held her mother in the highest regard—now that her mother had died in such a way, she would never let it pass without taking action.
While the two were still speaking in the inner room, Caifu came in to report, “…Concubine Du fainted from crying before Madam’s spirit tablet. Miss, should you go and take a look?”
Old Madam Ji raised a brow. “That Concubine Du—is she truly so full of sentiment?”
Jinchao found it rather strange too. Concubine Du had always tried to please everyone, but it didn’t seem in her nature to be so grief-stricken over her mother’s death.
After a moment’s thought, Jinchao said, “Why don’t we take a look as well? After all, both concubines have behaved properly over the years.”
Old Madam Ji nodded, and together they went to the side room to see Concubine Du.
She lay on a cushion of indigo-blue silk embroidered with interlaced diamond patterns and gold thread. Her face was pale, and her entire demeanor languid. Concubine Guo sat beside her. Seeing Jinchao and Old Madam Ji arrive, she quickly stood and offered a salute.
“…Concubine Du has kept vigil for a full day and night. With this summer heat, she may have been stricken by the heat.”
Jinchao noticed that Concubine Du was staring blankly at the chengchen (the gauze canopy above the bed) without uttering a word. She instructed a maid to prepare a cooling herbal decoction and added that if there was no improvement soon, they should summon Doctor Liu.
After checking on Concubine Du, Jinchao and her grandmother exited through the western wing’s doors.
In the mourning hall, the incense burners had not stopped smoking as guests came and went. Fifth Madam was attending to the visitors. Gu Jinrong and his younger sisters were kneeling before the spirit tablet, burning joss paper. Two older male cousins were on either side, setting paper horses alight.
A young man dressed in a robe of pale moon-white brocade stood silently before the altar, hands clasped behind his back. A dark sash trailed down his side, his expression calm, his features like sculpted jade—handsome beyond compare.
Seeing him, Old Madam Ji asked, “Who is that young man? If he is of the Gu clan, why is he not dressed in mourning?”
Jinchao had been so busy these past two days, barely sleeping two hours the night before, that she had completely forgotten Ye Xian had arrived. She also needed to inform Master Xiao that he wouldn’t be needed for now. Thinking it through, she said, “That is the heir of the Marquis of Changxing… Fifth Paternal Uncle married the Marquis’s legitimate daughter, so by seniority he’s of my mother’s generation—I’m supposed to call him Uncle.”
Old Madam Ji stared at him for a while, then said quietly, “That man… is not to be underestimated.”
Of course Jinchao knew Ye Xian was no ordinary man—but what made her grandmother say so? Curious, she asked, “How can you tell, Grandmother?”
Old Madam Ji replied, “Look at how many people come and go, yet every one of them spares him a glance. And he? He stands there without moving, without even the slightest shift of gaze. Not a hint of awkwardness or unease… That either means he’s used to such attention—or that he simply doesn’t care what others think. Either way, it’s terrifying.”
As Jinchao and her grandmother were still speaking, Qingpu walked over and whispered to her, “…The old women from Linyan Pavilion came to report: Master brought two old servant women there, intending to shave Concubine Song’s head and send her to Jingmiao Nunnery. She refused and smashed a great deal of furniture.”
Jinchao exchanged a glance with her grandmother. Madam Ji gave a cold chuckle. “Your father must be feeling immensely guilty to have taken action so quickly. If she refuses to obey, then I will have failed my duty as the matriarch of the Ji family!”
With that, she took Jinchao’s hand and, along with Mama Song and a few robust old servant women, headed toward Linyan Pavilion. Jinchao thought for a moment, then sent Qingpu to summon Xiuchu as well—if they were to settle accounts, then both old and new wrongs ought to be tallied together. It was time to make sure Concubine Song never had a chance to rise again.
When they arrived at Linyan Pavilion, it was indeed in shambles—furniture shattered and strewn across the floor. Concubine Song was being held down on the kang bed by two old servant women, flailing like a madwoman.
“How dare you treat me like this—let go! Master, how can you be so heartless! Ji Shi did those things—I wasn’t lying! It’s your own guilty conscience, and now you want me to bear the blame… You wish! I won’t go to Jingmiao Nunnery!”
Gu Deshao stood off to the side, his face cycling between red and pale. What was Song Miaohua saying? Yet the more he listened, the more her words pricked at his conscience—he couldn’t even be sure how much of it hit the mark.
Since he hadn’t given the direct order, the old servant women dared not be too forceful. Seeing Concubine Song about to break free, they struggled to restrain her. She threw herself in front of Gu Deshao, sobbing miserably.
“Master! Pinxiu has served you for sixteen years! Just for one small mistake, must you be this cruel? You’ve already cast the Madam aside with no regard—are you going to abandon Pinxiu too?!”
Madam Ji stepped into the room just in time to hear this. She sneered, “You certainly know how to twist words! If he shows you no affection, then that is the only true tenderness left for Han’er! You say sixteen years of service proves your devotion—then what do twenty years of marriage mean for my Han’er, who tended to this Senior Official day and night?”
Gu Deshao waved his hand, and the two old servants dragged Concubine Song away. She cried bitterly, refusing to be sent to Jingmiao Nunnery, refusing to part with her life of wealth and honor. She would not—would not—be condemned to a life of solitude and incense with only the cold gaze of Buddha for company.
And more than anything, she refused to be separated from her daughter, Lan’er.