The next day marked Ji Chun’s Zhuazhou, a first birthday ceremony where he would choose an object predicting his future. The child had been well cared for, chubby and healthy, and could already call out to people.

Jinchao smiled as she held her little nephew. The boy was lively, constantly turning his head to look around while clutching at the lotus-patterned silver hairpin in her hair. The young wet nurse hurried to take him back. “Chun-ge’er, you mustn’t grab the young lady’s hairpin!”

Afraid of upsetting Jinchao, Liu Shi quickly smiled. “It just means he likes his cousin.”

Jinchao winced slightly as her hair was pulled, unable to hold onto the little monkey-like child any longer. She handed him back to the wet nurse, then removed the hairpin and passed it to Chun-ge’er. She kissed his cheek with a smile. “If Chun-ge’er likes it, then Chun-ge’er can play with it.”

The boy was delighted to grab the silver hairpin, waving it excitedly. He turned to Liu Shi and babbled, “Mother, give… give…”

Old Madam Ji watched in amusement. “Chun’er is so young, yet he already knows how to borrow flowers to offer to Buddha!“¹

Laughter filled the reception hall. Many guests had come for the ceremony—wealthy families from Tongzhou, relatives of the Ji family, and even the Gu family had sent a steward bearing gifts.

…But Jinchao’s father did not come.

Jinchao glanced at the steward presenting an exquisite gold Maitreya Buddha.

Soon, a large table was set before the kang bed, displaying various objects: seals, Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist scriptures, brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, an abacus, coins, account books, and more. Chun-ge’er was placed in front of the table. He crawled around, seemingly uncertain, then looked toward his wet nurse and Liu Shi. The adults found him amusing, while he babbled in a way no one could understand.

Suddenly, something caught his attention, and he eagerly crawled toward it. In his excitement, the silver hairpin in his hand slipped out.

At last, he grabbed what he liked—an abacus. Clutching it tightly, he shook it with enthusiasm, thoroughly enjoying himself. Liu Shi relaxed and let out a small smile.

The women congratulated Old Madam Ji and Liu Shi. “Chun-ge’er will surely be skilled in calculations and commerce, a future Tao Zhu Gong!” (A historical merchant known for his success.)

After a while, Chun-ge’er lost interest in the abacus and crawled back, picking up the hairpin Jinchao had given him.

Why did he pick up the young lady’s hairpin…? Liu Shi felt uneasy, glancing at her mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law. Neither showed any reaction. But Chun-ge’er clutched the hairpin tightly, refusing to let go, and happily reached out to be held.

Jinchao was also surprised. Well, children naturally liked grabbing beautiful things during this ceremony.

Fortunately, Old Madam Ji wasn’t concerned. Instead, she laughed. “Chun-ge’er already knows how to choose valuable and beautiful things!”

Liu Shi whispered, “It seems he really likes his cousin.” Sure enough, her grandmother’s smile deepened, and she finally relaxed.

With the ceremony over, Chun-ge’er was taken to the outer courtyard. The women stayed together, chatting and playing mahjong. Not long after, a servant woman entered and whispered something to Old Madam Ji, who nodded and beckoned Jinchao over.

“…Concubine Yun has returned ahead of schedule. Let’s go see her.”

Back already? The journey from Tongzhou to Taihe County took at least half a day, let alone a round trip. She must have traveled day and night to return quickly with news. If she came back first, it meant the matter was likely settled.

These thoughts flashed through Jinchao’s mind, and she nodded, following her grandmother to her courtyard. Concubine Yun awaited them in the west side room.

She looked utterly exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. Holding a doucai² teacup, she slowly sipped a sweet tonic.

Old Madam Ji excused her from formal greetings and allowed Jinchao to question her.

Concubine Yun managed a faint smile. “When we arrived in Taihe County, the county magistrate himself greeted us. Upon hearing our purpose, he immediately summoned County Deputy Luo. This Luo family has four sons—my elder sister married the son of County Deputy Luo’s concubine.”

“The niece’s name is Su. She came of age six months ago, delicate and fair, with a gentle temperament—not inferior to my sister in her youth. She had been betrothed to a scholar in the county, but once County Deputy Luo learned of our proposal, he personally arranged to annul the engagement. Within a few hours, everything was settled. The girl is now preparing to travel here and should arrive by evening.”

Jinchao nodded. “And the scholar… agreed so easily?”

Concubine Yun’s lips curled slightly. “Even if he didn’t want to, what choice did he have? He wouldn’t dare offend the Ji family. But he didn’t object—he’s just a poor Xiucai³ scholar still preparing for the provincial exam. We gave him a thousand taels of silver, and he had nothing more to say.”

Jinchao let out a silent breath of relief. Since the girl hadn’t married yet, things would be easier to handle. Once she arrived, Jinchao could assess her herself. If she proved capable of persuading her father to elevate County Deputy Luo’s position, then it would all come down to her own abilities.

Securing ties with the Gu family was something many people dreamed of.

Old Madam Ji said, “You’ve had a long journey. Go rest.”

Concubine Yun accepted the dismissal and left. Old Madam Ji then summoned a servant woman. “Take two sets of gold hairpins with infant and lotus patterns, a pair of gem-encrusted filigree gold hairpins, fine Shu brocade and Hangzhou silk, and a fifty-year-old ginseng root to Concubine Yun. Also, have Mama Li prepare a guest room.” The servant left to make the arrangements.

Concubine Yun had done well in this matter—wealth and success would follow.

Jinchao clasped Old Madam Ji’s hands. “Grandmother, you’ve gone through so much trouble for me…”

Old Madam Ji gazed at her kindly. “I watched you grow up. I wish I could give you nothing but the best. How could this be considered trouble?”

Holding these warm, calloused hands, Jinchao found herself at a loss for words. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t be enough.

By evening, a plain carriage with green curtains quietly rolled into the inner courtyard, stopping at Xidongpan. Stepping down first was Song Mama, the favored confidante of the Grand Madam.

Following her, a delicate figure in a pale pink cloak descended onto the carriage stool.

Trailing behind was a maid in a short brown tunic, her hair in two simple buns. Thin and sickly, she carried a package far too large for her frail frame.

Song Mama led the two into the warm pavilion of Xidongpan.

Old Madam Ji had gone to entertain the guests, leaving Jinchao in the warm pavilion, tending to the Luoyang Red peonies she had brought for her grandmother. As she carefully pruned the delicate branches, Song Mama lifted the curtain and entered. “Young Miss, they have arrived.”

Two figures followed her in single file.

Jinchao acknowledged her with a soft hum but did not look up, continuing her careful work on the flowers.

Only after finishing the arrangement did she speak. “These Luoyang Reds are delicate and cannot be left outside the greenhouse. Be sure to instruct the servants to take proper care of them. By late spring, they will bloom with a hundred blossoms, draped in petals like cascading pearls.”

Song Mama smiled and nodded in agreement. Only then did Jinchao allow Qingpu to assist her in washing and drying her hands before she finally settled into the grand teacher’s chair, her gaze falling upon the two newcomers.

The young girl standing at the front was as fragile as a willow, her pale face smooth as jade, evoking pity at first sight. Her black hair was simply arranged in a small twist, adorned with a plain silver hairpin etched with cloud patterns. She kept her head lowered, staring at the embroidered tips of her satin shoes. Clad in a light blue jacket and skirt, the newly tailored garment did not fit her well, accentuating her slender frame.

Jinchao’s voice was calm and indifferent. “You don’t even know to greet properly? Introduce yourself.”

The girl’s palms were sweating as she nervously clutched the edge of her sleeve. She lowered herself into a bow and spoke in a soft voice, “Greetings, Eldest Miss Gu. My name is Luo Su. My grandfather is the County Deputy of Taihe County.”

Before Luo Su could finish, the young maid behind her suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud. “This servant’s name is Erya. I am thirteen years old and come from Zhao Family Village in Taihe County. I was bought yesterday by Mama Song to serve Miss Luo.”

This little maid was quite bold and quick-witted—certainly, someone chosen by Song Mama would be.

Jinchao nodded. “Since you now belong to Miss Luo, it’s time for a new name. From now on, you will be called Qingyi.⁴”

The little maid showed no hesitation and responded crisply, “Thank you, Eldest Miss, for bestowing a name upon me.”

Jinchao then instructed Qingpu to take Qingyi to settle their belongings, have a hot bath, and dress her in a warm cotton jacket before returning to serve.

Having established her authority, Jinchao finally smiled and turned to Luo Su. “Have a seat first. Don’t be afraid of me.”

Luo Su, after all, was only fifteen. The grandeur of the Ji household, with its lavish decorations and numerous servants, had already overwhelmed her. And now, facing Gu Jinchao—calm and poised, radiating the effortless elegance of a noble young lady—she couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

“…I am not afraid,” Luo Su murmured. “It’s just that Eldest Miss carries an air of nobility that commands respect.”

Jinchao gave a faint, knowing smile. Others might take such words as flattery, but she would not.

After inviting Luo Su to sit, she signaled for Caifu to serve tea, then asked directly, “Do you understand the purpose of following me to the Gu family?”

Luo Su nodded, her pale face tinged with a hint of red. “My father said… I am to serve Master Gu.” Her voice grew weaker as she spoke.

It seemed everything had been explained to her clearly.

Jinchao continued, “Do you know how to serve someone? What skills have you learned?”

Luo Su replied hesitantly, “I have learned embroidery, household management… I also learned to play the pipa from my aunt. She was once a courtesan… Before I came here, she taught me how to… serve others.”

There was an obvious hesitation in her voice—this “service” was clearly different from the one she had first mentioned.

Jinchao had no objections. As long as Luo Su could keep her father occupied, that was enough. She was satisfied—beyond Luo Su’s delicate beauty, she had a mild and obedient temperament. Although timid and weak, with proper training, she could be of great use.

The only question was whether, over time, as she saw more and experienced more, she would start to develop ambitions of her own.

Jinchao took a sip of tea. This Luo Su… she would have to be firmly held in her grasp.

1. The idiom 借花献佛 (jiè huā xiàn fó) literally means “borrowing flowers to offer to Buddha.” It refers to the act of using something borrowed or not originally one’s own to present as a gift, often as a means to gain favor or goodwill. ↩︎
2. Doucai is a technique in painting Chinese porcelain, where parts of the design, and some outlines of the rest, are painted in underglaze blue, and the piece is then glazed and fired.
   ↩︎
3. Xiucai (秀才) refers to a scholar who has successfully passed the county-level imperial examination, the Tongshi (童试). This was the entry-level title in the imperial examination system, granting scholars certain privileges, such as exemption from corvée labor and minor legal protections. However, it did not guarantee an official position. A Xiucai could continue studying to take the provincial examination (Xiangshi, 乡试) in hopes of achieving the rank of Juren (举人). ↩︎
4. The name Qingyi (晴衣) can be interpreted as “clear garments” or “sunlit attire”, symbolizing a fresh start, purity, and brightness. The character 晴 (qíng) means “clear” or “sunny,” while 衣 (yī) means “clothing.” Given that names often carry symbolic meanings in historical contexts, Qingyi may reflect a hope for a new and stable future under Luo Su’s service. ↩︎

Tang Rong did not want to see anyone. He did not want others to witness his disgrace. But since the visitor was Old Madame Tang, he had no choice but to pull himself together as best as he could. Still, after taking two severe beatings, what dignity did he have left?

The moment Tang Mo and Xin An saw him, they nearly burst out laughing. A night of rest had somewhat reduced the swelling, but the bruises had darkened, turning his face into a canvas of deep blues and purples. The swelling remained, and his eyes, ringed in black, gave him an utterly ridiculous appearance. Both clenched their fists, struggling to contain their laughter. Xin An managed to stay silent, but Tang Mo was not as composed. The moment he opened his mouth, a snicker nearly escaped, forcing him to turn away and clear his throat in a feeble attempt to disguise it.

Old Madame Tang was momentarily taken aback when she saw Tang Rong’s face. “Don’t move. Just focus on resting,” she said, her voice tinged with pity. “At least your bones are intact, and your face hasn’t been permanently damaged. In a few days, you’ll be back to normal.” What a shame. He had always been a handsome young man—how could they have beaten him so mercilessly? Could those bandits have done this on purpose?

“That’s right, Eldest Brother, you need to take care of yourself,” Tang Mo added solemnly, feigning concern. “Luckily, our ancestors must have been watching over you—it’s only superficial. Don’t worry about anything else for now. Nothing is more important than your health.” Holding back his laughter was so difficult that his eyes welled up with tears.

Old Madame Tang, oblivious to his amusement, was even more pleased. “Your younger brother has truly matured. Look at how much he cares for you.”

Tang Rong, however, was simmering with frustration. He strongly suspected Tang Mo had something to do with this beating, but he had no proof. Worse still, he had to maintain an expression of gratitude. “Second Brother is very thoughtful,” he forced out.

“As your younger brother, how could I not worry?” Tang Mo replied with flawless sincerity. Then, as if deep in thought, he added, “I’ve been wondering… Who could have targeted Eldest Brother so viciously? It seems too much of a coincidence to be an accident.” He sighed, as if troubled by the thought. “Could this be related to your new post at the Ministry of Rites?”

“That position is highly sought after. And with injuries like these, it’ll be at least ten days before you’re fit to report for duty. If the ministry needs someone urgently, they might replace you.” He paused before adding, “Eldest Brother, is there anyone else vying for that role?”

This was what Xin An had taught him—shifting the blame elsewhere. Tang Rong, though still suspicious of Tang Mo, could not deny the logic in his words. His appointment at the Ministry of Rites required poise and composure, and last night’s attackers had aimed exclusively for his face. A thought flickered across his mind, but with his swollen face, his expression was unreadable. “Father will investigate this matter,” he muttered.

Tang Mo hummed in agreement. Investigate all you want—those men were long gone by dawn. Having thoroughly enjoyed the sight of Tang Rong’s misery, he escorted Old Madame Tang away.

Once they returned to Autumn Harvest Courtyard, Xin An finally collapsed onto a chaise, stretching out with a smug smile. “Tomorrow, we should find another excuse to go take a look,” she suggested.

Tang Mo chuckled. “I barely held back earlier. He looked absolutely ridiculous. I almost handed him a mirror—after all, joy is best when shared.”¹

“I also heard that Tao Yiran didn’t stay with him last night. She went to sleep in the adjacent room, leaving an opening for that maid, Yingyue.”

Xin An’s lips curled in amusement. “Oh? Looks like we’ll have some entertainment soon.”

Tang Mo nodded, feeling utterly pleased. As long as Tang Rong was suffering, he was at peace. Call it petty, but that was just the way he was.

Xin An changed the topic. “I want to open a medicinal cuisine shop. But I’ll have to wait until my parents return to Huai Jiang so they can send people over to assist me. In the meantime, help me pick a good location—something grand and respectable.”

“Medicinal cuisine?” Tang Mo’s interest was piqued. The concept was not new—wealthy families often incorporated it into their diets—but there were no specialized shops for it yet. “Would you need a physician on-site?”

“Of course. My father has a doctor under his employ who specializes in this.”

Tang Mo quickly grasped the potential. “Could we establish the shop under your father’s name? That way, it won’t be linked to our household, and I can manage it independently. This would also allow me to expand my own network.”

Xin An had been thinking the same thing. Though she and Tang Mo were technically husband and wife, their arrangement was more of a strategic alliance. They shared common enemies, and the stronger Tang Mo became, the easier it would be for her to execute her own plans. Her lips curved into a smile. “Second Young Master, you’ve been making good decisions lately. Naturally, I’ll give you this opportunity.”

Tang Mo beamed and stepped back, bowing theatrically. “Many thanks, Boss Xin.”

“Now hurry up and arrange our trip to the estate.”

“This humble one will handle it flawlessly.”

Xin An chuckled at his playful tone. “We can’t just fixate on Tang Rong—we must focus on our own plans. As for him, let’s let him rest for now. Later, we’ll slip him some laxatives. Every time he gets too full of himself, we’ll arrange a little ‘accident.’”

Tang Mo nodded eagerly. “Understood! We’ll send him out when we need him, and when he’s in the way, we’ll make sure he’s bedridden.”

“Leave it to me—I’ll make sure everything is arranged perfectly.”

While they laughed in satisfaction, Tang Gang was outside, forced to put on a pleasant smile as he spoke with Vice Minister Wang from the Ministry of Rites. Wang Shilang, however, was anything but pleased. “Has the culprit been caught?”

Tang Gang assured him, “The matter is under urgent investigation.”

Wang Shilang sighed. “Marquis, we cannot let this happen again. If the Heir has made enemies, he must resolve them quickly. Imagine if something like this happened just before an important diplomatic event—who would take responsibility?”

The concern was valid. With Da Qian’s growing power and its recent lifting of maritime bans, more foreign envoys were arriving than ever before. The Ministry of Rites, responsible for hosting these dignitaries, needed representatives who could uphold the nation’s image. Tang Rong had been chosen precisely because of his upright posture and refined appearance.

“Has his face been permanently damaged?” Wang Shilang asked.

“Only some bruising. No disfigurement.”

That, at least, was a relief. Tang Gang reassured him, “We are making every effort to track down those responsible. The attackers claimed it was a mistake—perhaps it truly was.”

Wang Shilang internally scoffed. What kind of mistake turns a man into a pig-headed mess? “I heard the Heir is skilled in martial arts. Did he encounter an expert?”

At the spring flower banquet earlier this year, Tang Rong had performed a sword dance in front of the crowd—his movements graceful and unparalleled, earning thunderous applause. Many noble families had even used him as an example to discipline their own sons, praising him as a man of both literary and martial excellence.

Tang Gang didn’t even know how to respond. Skilled in martial arts, yet beaten up by a few common thugs?

Qing Mo had made it clear—those thugs fought without any technique, nothing more than unruly street ruffians.

Vice Minister Wang did not press the matter further. So, it was just for show—flashy but useless. “Regardless, I hope the Heir recovers well. The Ministry of Rites is still expecting him. I have other matters to attend to, so I shall take my leave.”

Tang Gang’s face turned pale, then darkened. He could not shake the overwhelming sense of humiliation.

1. A Chinese proverb meaning “It is better to enjoy together than alone.” Similar to the English expression “The more, the merrier.” ↩︎

Concubine Yun had spent over a decade navigating the shifting tides of the inner courtyard, and she could see through things clearly. The young mistress and the Grand Madam were playing their roles—one the kind face, the other the stern one. It was evident that this matter was not open to negotiation.

But why this particular girl? Countless beautiful young women were of marriageable age, and just the mention of the Gu family of Shian would have many eagerly vying for the position. Why insist on her obscure niece?

No matter how she looked at it, the whole affair seemed strange.

Then again, it was not her place to question it. No matter the reason, this situation could only benefit her. She was out of favor, and life in the Ji household was far from easy. If she helped the young mistress arrange this match, the Grand Madam would surely reward her, and the Second Master would treat her with more kindness. And if she ever found herself in trouble in the future… the Gu family’s young mistress might just lend her a hand.

Standing up, Concubine Yun bowed respectfully. “Please rest assured, Grand Madam, Young Mistress. To enter the Gu family as a concubine is a great fortune for this child. If it pleases you, I will set out for Taihe County today.”

A sensible woman, Gu Jinchao thought approvingly.

Had she not feared that among the many servants making the journey, there might be someone loyal to Concubine Song who would tip her off, she would have preferred to go herself. However, with Mama Song accompanying the trip, everything should proceed without issue.

Old Madam Ji made her way to the reception hall of Shexian Pavilion.

More than a dozen estate stewards and shop managers were already gathered, each holding account books, rental agreements, or reports on land yields. Beside the Grand Madam stood Mr. Zeng, the accountant, who always carried an abacus at hand. If any steward reported unusual expenses, he could immediately verify the figures.

Seeing Gu Jinchao enter, Mr. Zeng greeted her with a smile.

Jinchao took a seat beside her grandmother, observing as she conducted business with clarity and precision. No matter how complex or thorny an issue was, her grandmother could instantly grasp the crux of the matter, setting the direction for the discussion. The senior stewards would then quickly come up with a plan.

She remembered how, as a child, she would sit on her grandmother’s lap, mischievously interrupting her work, even trying to snatch the accountant’s abacus to play with.

Mr. Zeng, a scholar who had once passed the county-level imperial exam but repeatedly failed the provincial exam, had eventually given up on officialdom. Instead, he became an accountant for the Ji family, earning several hundred taels a month. The abacus he carried was made of solid gold, yet when little Jinchao had dismantled it bead by bead to play with, he had merely smiled and patiently reassembled it afterward.

Once the business was concluded, the stewards withdrew, and Ji Yao arrived with Ji Yun, Ji Can, and Gu Jinrong to pay their respects.

The Grand Madam smiled at Gu Jinrong and asked, “What did you do with your cousins last night?”

Gu Jinrong chuckled wryly. “We played Go. Unfortunately, no one could best Second Cousin—his skill is truly remarkable!”

Ji Yao smiled modestly. “It was just luck.”

One of the senior stewards laughed and added, “Don’t be fooled by our Second Young Master’s mild demeanor—his mind is sharp, and his strategies run deep. Anyone who crosses him in secret is bound to suffer for it!”

He then recounted an incident from years ago when Ji Yao had managed the Ji family’s Hangzhou silk shop.

“At the time, the shop was located right across from a store that specialized in Shu brocade. Their manager thought our Second Young Master was young and easy to bully, so he repeatedly sent workers to lure customers away from our shop. But instead of getting angry, the Second Young Master quietly ordered our staff to buy up every last bit of Isatis root on the market and store it in our warehouse. We were all puzzled—until months later, when the price of Isatis root skyrocketed, and the Second Young Master still refused to sell.”

Gu Jinrong was puzzled. “What is Isatis root used for? Why stockpile it?”

Ji Yao explained with a smile, “Isatis root is a key ingredient for making blue dye. There’s a rare kind of Shu brocade, Lan Tai Jin, that requires it for its signature color. Since Sichuan doesn’t produce Isatis root, merchants traveling to Tongzhou to sell Shu brocade always need to purchase it there.”

The steward continued, “Exactly! When those merchants arrived, desperate for Isatis root, they discovered that the Second Young Master had it all. He agreed to sell—but only in exchange for Shu brocade of equal value. They had no choice but to comply, handing over all their brocade. Meanwhile, that rival shop found itself without any raw materials. Its manager was at his wit’s end and ultimately had to swallow his pride and beg the Second Young Master to sell him some brocade instead!”

Ji Can playfully patted Ji Yao’s arm and grinned. “I’d have found an easier way—those merchants already rely on our Ji family’s ships to transport their goods to Tongzhou. All Second Brother had to do was give a single order to our shipping overseers, and they’d have handed over the brocade willingly. Why go through all that trouble?”

Ji Yao thought for a moment and laughed. “You have a point!”

Everyone joined in the laughter.

The Grand Madam, pleased, said, “Yao’er is sharp—this suits him well. Tomorrow is your eldest nephew’s Zhuazhou¹ (one-year-old birthday celebration). Why don’t you take your younger cousins to Baodi to pick out some gifts for him?”

Gu Jinchao saw Ji Yao’s smile fade slightly, his gaze lowering.

But after a brief pause, he nodded. “Baodi is a good choice—there’s a lantern festival opening at Yucheng Fang. It should be quite lively.”

She had no desire to put him in a difficult position, nor did she wish to go to Baodi at this time. She was still preoccupied with whether Concubine Yun would be able to complete her task successfully.

She turned to her grandmother and said, “It’s freezing outside, and a long journey would be exhausting for so many people. I’d much rather stay here with you. I want to spend more time with you, Grandmother.”

Madam Ji had hoped she would go out for a change of scenery, but seeing that she had no interest, she let it go.

By the time they returned to Xidong Pan, snow had begun to fall.

Madam Ji gazed out through the wooden lattice doors as the snowfall thickened. “It’s a good thing we didn’t go. If it keeps snowing like this, the carriages wouldn’t be able to return.”

Gu Jinchao, watching the fire crackling in the brazier, suddenly recalled how she used to make crab shell yellow pastries with Wansu back when they lived together. Their charcoal supply had been limited in those days, so baking pastries over the fire had been a way to both cook and stay warm.

She smiled and said, “Heavy snow has its benefits—it’s the perfect time for freshly baked pastries! How about I make some for you to try?”

Madam Ji raised a brow. “When did my Chao’er learn to do such things? You used to refuse to even step into the kitchen.”

Jinchao simply smiled and said nothing. She sent Qingpu to fetch some dough from the outer courtyard’s kitchen, then personally prepared the preserved vegetable filling in the small kitchen of Xidong Pan. After wrapping the pastries, she arranged them neatly on a fine porcelain plate and carried them to the warm chamber.

Old Madam Ji didn’t find her actions improper in the slightest. When Jinchao entered with the plate, she even helped lift the brazier lid.

Soon, the pastries were baking, and before long, a warm, enticing aroma began to fill the room.

Mama Song sniffed the air and sighed, ““Even I find the smell irresistible! Absolutely delicious!”

Warm laughter and the sweet scent of freshly baked pastries filled the winter air.

The maids and old servant women widened their eyes as they crowded around to watch. None of them were particularly skilled in the kitchen, and they had certainly never seen pastries being baked inside a warm chamber before—it was an amusing novelty.

Gu Jinchao, holding a pair of long jade bamboo chopsticks, lifted the brazier lid. Inside, the pastries had turned a perfect golden brown, the sesame seeds on top releasing their nutty fragrance. She carefully picked one up and placed it onto a plate, first offering it to Old Madam Ji. “Grandmother, have a taste and see how they turned out.”

She then distributed them to Mama Song, Qingpu, Caifu, and even the little maids standing outside.

Qingpu had already seen Jinchao’s culinary skills and was unsurprised. Caifu, however, was delighted. “It’s so crisp and fragrant—absolutely delicious!”

Old Madam Ji took a bite, and the layers of pastry flaked apart at the touch, melting on her tongue. The rich, savory aroma of the preserved vegetables filled her mouth—it was unexpectedly good.

As the warm chamber bustled with laughter and chatter, a maid’s voice came from outside the curtain: “Old Madam, the Second Young Master, the Third Young Master, the Fourth Young Master, and the Young Master from the Gu family have arrived.”

Old Madam Ji smiled. “What perfect timing! Invite them in.”

Ji Can was the first to lift the curtain and step inside. “Grandmother, what smells so good in here? I could smell it from the corridor.”

Old Madam Ji pointed toward the brazier. “Your cousin baked crab shell yellow pastries for us. Come and have a taste—they’re quite good.”

The young men entered the room, and Ji Yao’s gaze immediately landed on Gu Jinchao.

She was still seated by the brazier, focused entirely on the pastries. The firelight cast a golden glow over her face, her clear eyes reflecting its flickering light like a tranquil pond in spring. Her long lashes, touched by the warm hue, added to the delicate allure of her features. She wore a tea-white silk robe with blue embroidered borders, and as she tilted her head slightly, the smooth, translucent skin of her neck caught the glow, as if carved from the finest jade.

Ji Yao quickly averted his gaze, telling himself that no matter how low Gu Jinchao’s character might be, her beauty was undeniably the most striking he had ever seen. He had never thought much of it before, but for some reason, tonight, she seemed even more captivating.

Jinchao looked up at them and smiled slightly. “This batch is almost done.” She lowered her gaze again, continuing to tend to the pastries with quiet concentration.

“We brought some pear soup for Grandmother,” Ji Yao said as he set down the food container in his hands. “I took Rong along for a walk around the estate and found some frozen pears in the cellar, so I asked the kitchen to prepare this for you.”

Old Madam Ji beamed. “It seems everyone wants to bring me food today.”

By the time Jinchao finished baking, the young men were preparing to leave. Their eldest uncle had arranged for them to meet a highly respected scholar in Tongzhou to discuss literary composition. Jinchao asked Qingpu to fetch a food container so the pastries could be packed for them to take along.

One food container was brought in, and another was carried out. Ji Can, unable to contain his curiosity, eagerly grabbed a pastry from the box. “Smells amazing! I never would have guessed that our cousin had such a skill.”

Ji Yun shook his head in mock disapproval. “Look at you—absolutely gluttonous… But I must say, our cousin is quite amusing. Baking pastries in the warm chamber and even sharing them with the maids and servants—how unexpected.”

Ji Can laughed heartily. “As long as it’s delicious, I couldn’t care less!”

Ji Yao smiled faintly. “If you dared to bake pastries in the warm chamber, Grandmother would have you kneeling in the ancestral hall for days.”

Gu Jinrong, however, remained silent.

His mind drifted back to the plate of cloud-pattern sesame cakes.

Watching her so focused on baking today, he suddenly recalled that day when Gu Jinchao had made pastries just for him. Yet all he had done was question her about Qingpu. Had she been disappointed then? Had she felt that all her effort had been wasted on someone who didn’t appreciate it?

When he looked at Gu Jinchao now, she didn’t seem like the person Gu Lan had described. But then again, everything had unfolded just as Gu Lan had said it would…

Lost in thought, he stood by the window late into the night, staring at the falling snow.

Qingxiu approached and gently reminded him to rest.

“Qingxiu,” Gu Jinrong asked, still gazing outside, “do you think a person’s nature can be judged just by looking at them?”

Qingxiu pondered for a moment before replying, “Master, bad people don’t have it written on their faces. Sometimes, the ones who look the kindest—those with gentle smiles and kind eyes—are the most ruthless of all. Isn’t there an old saying? When wandering the jianghu, one must be most wary of the elderly, children, and monks.”

Gu Jinrong nodded slightly, lost in thought.

1. Zhuazhou (抓周) is a traditional Chinese ceremony held on a child’s first birthday. The child is presented with various objects, and the item they pick is believed to predict their future interests or career. ↩︎

Lailai moved swiftly, arriving at the guards’ quarters in no time. The punishment had already been carried out—twenty strikes each. The guards lay sprawled on the shared wooden platform, groaning in pain. Though resentment simmered in their hearts, none dared voice it. Servitude meant enduring the master’s whims; a single word could determine their fate.

“Do you think the Heir will come after us later?”

That was the real concern. All four sighed in unison. Securing a position as a guard in the Marquis’s residence had not been easy; some had even been recommended by patrons. If trouble arose, those patrons would suffer consequences as well.

Lailai entered with an air of warmth and concern. “Gentlemen, how are you holding up?”

Recognizing him, the guards struggled to rise, but Lailai hastily gestured for them to stay put. “The Second Young Master feels guilty about today’s events and has been thinking of you all. He specifically sent me to bring you some medicine.”

He set down a bundle. “And knowing your wages were docked, he’s also made up for it. He asked me to pass along his apologies—he regrets that you were implicated because of him.”

The guards were taken aback by such generosity. “It’s our duty,” one of them said quickly. “Second Young Master was only acting for the safety of the household. We failed to recognize him—this isn’t his fault.”

Not to mention, the Heir’s sneaky behavior had been suspicious in the first place.

“Second Young Master is too kind,” another murmured. “We can’t possibly accept this money.”

Lailai placed a pouch of silver on the table. “I’ll leave it here. The medicine is also here, though it may not be enough—you’ll have to buy more yourselves. Don’t let these injuries turn into lasting ailments.”

Glancing toward the door, he lowered his voice. “There are too many eyes and ears around. I’ll take my leave. Rest well.”

With a respectful bow, he departed. Once he was gone, all eyes turned to the pouch of silver.

“That looks like a decent sum,” someone whispered.

When they opened it, they found far more than expected—equivalent to over three months’ wages. Even after dividing it, they’d still have extra to buy medicine.

“Since Second Young Master is so considerate, we should accept it. From now on, let’s keep an extra eye out for him,” one of them suggested.

Without hesitation, they tucked the silver away, their earlier grievances easing considerably. As they lay back down, murmured praises spread—Second Young Master wasn’t bad at all. This incident wasn’t his fault in the slightest.

At Spring Blossom Courtyard, the physician examined Tang Rong carefully. “Fortunately, they’re only superficial wounds—no damage to the bones. Still, they’re severe enough that you’ll need at least half a month to recover.”

Tang Rong scowled. A useless diagnosis. His entire body ached as if his bones had been shattered, yet the physician insisted otherwise. There was no point in arguing. After applying medicine all over his bruised and swollen body, he lay down stiffly. The pain stretched across his chest and back, his arms also injured—lying on his side was impossible. The physician had no solution for that.

“Who could have struck you so viciously?” Tao Yiran sat at his bedside, weeping softly. “You must be in terrible pain.”

As soon as the attendants withdrew, she dabbed her tears and suggested, “Why not have Father petition the palace for an imperial physician? I won’t be at ease otherwise.”

Tang Rong barely opened his swollen eyelids. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

He closed his eyes, hoping that when he woke up, this would all be just a bad dream—or that at least his pain would have faded.

Tao Yiran wiped away another tear and stood up. “Rest well. I’ll have someone stand guard outside. Just call if you need anything.”

Then, she left—to sleep in the adjacent chamber.

Tang Rong’s weary eyes flickered open, watching her silhouette disappear. He had assumed she would stay and watch over him.

He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep, yet exhaustion overtook him. By the time he awoke, the sky was faintly lit. For a brief moment, he felt nothing amiss. But as his senses cleared, the pain returned, sharp and unforgiving.

As he struggled to rise, Yingyue rushed in. “Heir, you must have suffered terribly.”

“You were outside all night?”

Yingyue hesitated. “I couldn’t sleep, knowing you were injured. Keeping watch gave me some peace of mind.”

A familiar warmth stirred in Tang Rong’s heart. She had been his maid for years, always tending to him with utmost devotion. He had neglected her recently, too preoccupied with Tao Yiran. But now, as half of his weight leaned against her, a realization settled in—Yingyue had always been there for him.

“It hurts,” he murmured.

Tears welled in Yingyue’s eyes. She carefully helped him relieve himself before guiding him back to bed. Seeing his battered face up close, she wiped her tears swiftly before he could notice. “You must be hungry. I made pig’s blood congee—it’s good for recovery. I’ll fetch some for you.”

Tang Rong reached out, stopping her. “No rush. You must be tired.”

“Serving you isn’t tiring,” she whispered.

Her voice was steady, yet her gaze held a quiet determination. Tang Rong, still in pain, felt a tinge of warmth seep through his discomfort.

Yingyue wiped away her tears and smiled. “As long as I can serve the Heir, I’m not tired.”

She turned briskly toward the door. “Heir, wait here. I’ll fetch the congee.”

Tao Yiran had chosen not to stay by the bedside all night, leaving an opening for Yingyue. By the time she returned with the pig’s blood congee and fed Tang Rong half a bowl, Tao Yiran finally appeared.

The moment she stepped through the door, she saw the two of them sitting close together in what seemed like an intimate moment. Her eyes reddened at once.

Yingyue quickly got up and bowed respectfully. “Young Madam, please don’t misunderstand the Heir. It was my own concern for him that brought me here—he did not summon me.”

She hastily offered the remaining congee to Tao Yiran. “Now that Young Madam is here, this servant will take her leave.”

Her demeanor was one of fear and deference, making Tao Yiran frown slightly. She had the sudden urge to hurl the bowl in her hands—just looking at it disgusted her.

Tang Rong, still brooding over the fact that she had not stayed to watch over him, felt uneasy at her reaction.

“Yingyue has served me for a long time. She knows her place and her duties. You don’t need to concern yourself with her.”

Tao Yiran’s eyes filled with tears. Without another word, she sat at the bedside, holding the bowl of congee. “Eat.”

Meanwhile, in Spring Glory Hall, Tang Mo and Xin An were accompanying Old Madame Tang for breakfast.

The two had woken especially early today—eager for a chance to witness Tang Rong’s “pig-headed” state up close. Their delight made them particularly attentive in serving Old Madame Tang, their flattery growing increasingly adept.

“Grandmother, if not for you stepping in last night, I fear Father would have beaten me to death,” Tang Mo sighed dramatically.

Old Madame Tang gave him a look of pity. “Your father was acting out of concern. Who told you to be so reckless all the time?”

“I’ve changed! Haven’t I changed, Grandmother?”

Old Madame Tang chuckled. “If you have, that’s good. If your father doesn’t dote on you, Grandmother will.”

Xin An, sitting to the side with a smile, marveled at Tang Mo’s shamelessness. In just a few days, he had completely mastered the art of charming Old Madame Tang.

And honestly, a grown man acting spoiled was truly something to behold. Especially when that man was also rather handsome.

If, one day, he ever turned that charm on her… would she be able to withstand it?

She wasn’t completely unfeeling—just a little old at heart. And wasn’t it true that the older one got, the more they enjoyed the company of youth?

I’m doomed.

Seeing that the timing was right, Tang Mo spoke up again. “Grandmother, shall we visit Eldest Brother? The physician said his injuries aren’t serious, but they’re severe enough that even imagining the pain makes me wince.”

Old Madame Tang nodded, thinking Tang Mo was finally showing some maturity. Raising a hand, she gestured for him to help her up.

As they prepared to leave, Tang Mo casually added, “I also spoke to Father—after we return from the estate, I’ll go to the Northern Garrison.”

Old Madame Tang, pleased with the arrangement, instructed Ganlu to bring along some medicinal supplements.

Thus, a small entourage began making their way leisurely toward Spring Blossom Courtyard.

Ji Yao stormed out of Shexian Pavilion, his chest burning with frustration. He walked along the pavilions and corridors, eventually stopping by the lakeside, taking several deep breaths—but the anger within him refused to subside.

“Now that your cousin is here, you should spend more time with her and send her gifts. The two of you were never close as children, but now that she has come of age… You will have to marry her in the end. Once your aunt’s health improves, we will propose the marriage to the Gu family.”

Thinking of his grandmother’s words, Ji Yao felt a sharp twitch at his temples. Waves of suppressed fury rose within him, yet he had nowhere to vent. His nature and upbringing would never allow him to take his anger out on servants.

He stared at the lake for a while before turning toward his study. Zian followed cautiously, observing his master’s expression—he had no idea what the Old Madam had said to the Second Young Master at Shexian Pavilion, but it had clearly left him fuming.

Upon returning to his study, Ji Yao instructed Zian to open all the windows. Outside, a dense grove of black bamboo swayed gently in the night breeze. He stood at his desk, dipping his brush into ink in an attempt to calm himself. After finishing a copy of Su Dongpo’s Ding Feng Bo, he stared at the still-drying ink for a moment before inhaling deeply.

“We’re going to see the First Madam.”

The First Madam was in the middle of her evening grooming routine, assisted by her maids. Upon hearing that Ji Yao had come looking for her, she quickly had them re-knot her simple bun.

“…It’s already the hour of the pig (9–11 PM). What could bring him here at this hour?”

The old maidservant who had reported to her shook her head. “I’m not sure, but this evening, the Old Madam summoned the Second Young Master to Shexian Pavilion.”

The First Madam pondered this for a moment before saying, “Bring him to the warm chamber at the back. It’s freezing outside—he must be chilled from rushing over.”

After composing herself, she entered the warm chamber. Seeing her normally mild-mannered son looking so grim, his hands clenched into fists, she softened at once.

“Yao’er, it’s late. Why have you come to the inner courtyard?”

“Mother!” Ji Yao pressed his lips together tightly, his emotions simmering. It took a long moment before he continued, “I have no interest in meddling with the Ji family’s affairs. But for you, for Grandmother, I’ve done my part. If managing the family’s academic pursuits is necessary, let Third Brother handle it. I have compromised in every way possible, but can’t I at least have control over my own life? I have never liked Gu Jinchao. I do not want to spend my life bound to her!”

The First Madam’s heart clenched. “What nonsense are you saying?” She immediately ordered the maids and study attendants to leave, making sure they guarded the outer doors before taking her son’s hands. “Did your grandmother finally speak plainly?”

Ji Yao took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “I had thought she would eventually abandon this idea… But you know what kind of person Gu Jinchao is. We grew up together—just look at the things she’s done. When I was young, my wet nurse offended her with a single remark, and she had Grandmother throw her out of the household. When Fourth Brother accidentally touched her favorite pastries, she made him kneel in the ancestral hall for an entire day without water… Have you ever seen her do a single act of kindness?”

The First Madam fell silent for a moment before attempting to reason with him. “But those were childhood grievances. Chao’er seems much better now.”

Ji Yao shook his head. “You don’t understand. Last year, during the Lantern Festival at the Yongyang Bo Estate, a little maid accidentally blocked her path. She grabbed the girl and slapped her across the face—right in front of all the young ladies and gentlemen from noble families. Her hair was filled with glittering golden ornaments, and at that moment, I didn’t even want to admit she was my cousin. Asking me to treat her with courtesy is one thing, but to marry her? Absolutely not.”

The First Madam felt a bitter ache in her chest. Her son was a refined and restrained young man—why must he be forced into a marriage with Gu Jinchao? Her mother-in-law had only ever considered her granddaughter’s future, but what about her own grandson’s wishes?

“What can I do?” she sighed. “Once your grandmother has decided on something… who can possibly change her mind?”

Ji Yao gritted his teeth and gave a mirthless laugh. “Even if I refuse, Grandmother has countless ways to force my hand…”

The First Madam squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Don’t worry. If your grandmother brings this up again, I’ll try to dissuade her…” Even if it was futile, she had to try—for Yao’er’s sake.

The next morning, Second Master Ji came to pay respects to Old Madam Ji, who casually asked him about Concubine Yun.

He found it rather odd—why was his mother suddenly interested in one of his concubines?

After thinking for a moment, he replied, “It’s been over half a month since I last saw her. Does Mother need something from her? I will send someone to fetch her at once.”

Jinchao stood beside her grandmother, grinding ink for her.

Every morning at the hour of the dragon (7–9 AM), Old Madam Ji handled reports from various stewards and reviewed account books and land revenues in Shexian Pavilion. Only after her two sons and daughters-in-law finished paying their respects would she meet with household managers. Jinchao had grown up watching her grandmother work, and thus had developed the habit of rising early to assist.

Old Madam Ji took a sip of her Hanshan Xueya tea and said calmly, “Just have her come.” She offered no further explanation. This was, after all, Gu family business—there was no need for outsiders to know.

Understanding his mother’s strong-willed nature, Second Master Ji refrained from asking more questions and ordered Lingqiu to summon Concubine Yun.

When Concubine Yun arrived, she was visibly anxious—she had applied her makeup in haste, and the gold-rimmed hairpin set with yellow tourmaline in her hair was slightly askew.

“Your concubine Yun Jin greets the Grand Madam.”

Old Madam Ji frowned slightly, displeased at how easily rattled she was. Could such a person even be entrusted with a task?

Jinchao, however, studied her closely. Though age had added fine lines to her face, her features remained delicate and refined, her skin pale and smooth. She wore a stone-blue brocade jacket with entwining floral patterns—modest yet dignified.

Concubine Yun was equally apprehensive. As a low-ranking concubine, she rarely had the opportunity to meet the Grand Madam, let alone be summoned personally. She wracked her brain, trying to recall if she had committed any mistakes lately. Failing to think of anything, she steadied herself slightly. When she lifted her gaze, she found Gu Jinchao watching her intently, and she flinched.

In just a moment, she composed herself.

A young lady standing so close to the Grand Madam, with a beauty as vibrant as blooming crabapple flowers… Her attire, though simple, was made of a finely woven jacquard fabric worth a fortune. This could only be the Grand Madam’s most cherished granddaughter, the Gu family’s young mistress—Gu Jinchao.

But why was she here? And why had all the other servants been dismissed, leaving only her?

Madam Ji motioned for her to sit on the grand teacher’s chair before introducing her. “This is the young mistress of the Gu family.”

Jinchao smiled warmly. “From the moment I saw you, I felt a sense of familiarity. You resemble your younger sister, Yunxiang, quite a bit. I heard you also have an elder sister named Yun Yan—is that correct?”

Concubine Yun nodded. “Yes, I take after Yunxiang. But my elder sister… she looks almost identical to her. She married long ago, and I rarely hear from her.”

Madam Ji asked, “Do you know where Yun Yan was married?”

Concubine Yun hesitated. “She was taken as a concubine by the son of the magistrate of Taihe County. I visited her twice—the last time was five years ago. If nothing has changed, she should still be there.”

Jinchao’s heart eased. If Yun Yan’s whereabouts were known, their plan would be much easier to execute.

She smiled. “Does your sister have an unmarried daughter?”

Concubine Yun hesitated, sensing something deeper at play… Why would the young mistress ask about the daughter of a maid who had been sent away from the household?

Concubine Yun lifted her gaze toward the Grand Madam, only to find the elder woman looking at her as well. A wave of nervousness washed over her. “Well… yes, she does. But the girl is already fifteen now—I don’t know if she has been betrothed yet… May I ask why the young mistress is inquiring about my niece?”

Jinchao offered her a reassuring smile. “You don’t need to be anxious. My mother’s health has been frail, and attending to my father while managing household affairs has been overwhelming for her. She hopes to find a suitable concubine for my father. Would you be willing to travel to Taihe County and relay our proposal to your niece’s family? If they agree to this match, the Gu family will naturally offer a generous betrothal gift.”

Of course, if it were merely the matter of taking a concubine, it wouldn’t be referred to as a betrothal gift. Jinchao was simply speaking politely.

Madam Ji then added, “If you travel to Taihe County, I will have Steward Zheng and Mama Song accompany you. If your niece is still unmarried, bring her back with you. For the granddaughter of a county magistrate to enter the Gu family as a concubine—that is already a great honor.”

With these words, the Grand Madam had left no room for refusal.

That evening, Tang Gang took Tang Rong along to a banquet with Minister Wang of the Ministry of Rites. Naturally, such gatherings included other officials and companions, and after a long night of drinking and feasting, someone suggested going somewhere to relax.

The smiles exchanged among the guests made the meaning clear.

Tang Rong, as the only junior present, politely excused himself first, earning a few teasing remarks from the older officials.

Who could have guessed that not long after his carriage left, a group of men blocked the road?

“The streets were already empty, and those men rushed forward without a word—just started beating and smashing everything,” said Qing Mo, Tang Rong’s personal attendant.

“They dragged the heir out of the carriage and gave him a thorough beating.”

Qing Mo, sporting a swollen eye, a bruised cheek, and a bloodied lip, winced as he spoke, pain evident in his expression.

“Halfway through, one of them suddenly said, ‘Wrong person! Not this one!’ And that’s when they finally stopped. But instead of just leaving, they turned on me and beat me too. Then they tossed us a small piece of silver, saying it was for our troubles.”

Tang Gang had been urgently summoned back.

The moment he saw his son’s bruised and swollen face, his fury exploded.

His gaze snapped toward Tang Mo.

“You—what do you have to say for yourself?”

Tang Mo immediately shrunk back like a quail, putting on an innocent expression.

“I was just leaving Grandmother’s courtyard, and from afar, I saw two men limping toward the house, moving suspiciously. Naturally, I assumed they were thieves and called the patrol guards.”

“How could I have known it was Big Brother?”

“It was dark, I couldn’t see clearly. Besides, Big Brother has always carried himself with dignity, his posture as upright as a pine tree. How could I have ever imagined him sneaking around like that?”

The gathered servants and officials turned their eyes to Tang Rong.

His injuries were truly appalling.

His eyes were swollen shut, his nose slightly crooked, his hair disheveled, and his luxurious silk robes wrinkled and covered in footprints.

Tao Yiran sobbed uncontrollably, tears flowing down her face.

Tang Rong barely managed to twitch his lips, but the pain that shot through his face was so unbearable that his expression twisted horribly.

Qing Mo hurriedly spoke on his behalf.

“The heir said it’s just superficial wounds—there’s no need to alarm everyone. That’s why we deliberately avoided the patrolling guards when entering the estate. It wasn’t suspicious behavior—we just didn’t want to cause a commotion.”

Tang Gang, however, kept his piercing gaze locked onto Tang Mo.

“You dare say you had nothing to do with this?”

Tang Mo immediately fell to his knees, his voice ringing with righteous indignation.

“I swear I am innocent!”

“For so many years, when have I ever done anything like this? Even when I’ve had minor disputes with Big Brother, I’ve always addressed them openly. Whenever I encounter him outside, I show him every courtesy, just as Father has always taught me—no matter what happens within the family, we must never let outsiders see us divided.”

“Besides, I have no deep grudge against Big Brother. This was simply a misunderstanding.”

Tang Gang’s chest heaved with suppressed fury.

First, his beloved son had been beaten into this miserable state—he was heartbroken.

Second, Tang Rong was supposed to start his post at the Ministry of Rites tomorrow—but how could he show up looking like this?

Now, he would have to personally explain the situation to Minister Wang.

And once word got out, it would surely become a laughingstock.

An heir of a marquisate, beaten like a common street thug—where was the dignity of the Marquis of Wei Yuan’s household?

Wang Shi stepped forward to calm him.

“Marquis, please don’t be angry. The most pressing matter is to get the heir cleaned up and treated—the physician will be here soon. His face mustn’t be neglected.”

“There is nothing more important than his injuries right now.”

Tang Gang nodded grimly.

“Everyone dismissed. The guards who laid hands on the heir will receive twenty lashes each and forfeit three months’ salary.”

Then his voice hardened.

“Tang Mo, you stay.”

Wang Shi wanted to intervene, but Tang Gang shot her a warning look.

Concerned, she turned to Tang Mo, but he subtly shook his head, signaling her to leave.

Once the room was cleared, Tang Mo remained kneeling, while Tang Gang stood silent for a long time.

His anger was still there, but something else stirred beneath it.

A part of him whispered—this is also your son.

Your legitimate son.

You should treat him with more kindness.

But another voice countered—this son has always been unruly.

He has never been dependable.

Spending effort on him is a waste.

At last, Tang Gang spoke.

“Do you hold a grudge over the bride swap?”

“No.”

“Tell the truth.”

“Yes.”

Tang Mo didn’t hesitate.

“I’m not a saint—of course I can’t pretend it never happened. Big Brother handled things disgracefully. He did it on purpose.”

“So you hired people to beat him out of revenge?”

Tang Mo shook his head.

“It really wasn’t me.”

“Do I dislike him? Yes. But because of what he did, I also benefited. And honestly, I think Xin An isn’t bad at all. Who’s to say I won’t actually have a good life with her? These past few days, I’ve been trying to get along with her more. Things have already played out this way—what else can I do?”

“I’m also not blind—I can see Tao Yiran has always liked Big Brother. She never had any regard for me, and I can’t force that to change. If Father insists I admit to something, then I’ll say this—seeing Big Brother beaten into a pig’s head today truly made me happy. So, I’d like to thank whoever upheld justice on my behalf.”

His frank attitude actually made Tang Gang’s anger subside a little.

At least this reaction felt real.

If Tang Mo had pretended he felt no resentment, that would have been more suspicious.

“You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with your grandmother lately.”

Tang Mo stiffened his neck and replied,

“Father doesn’t like me. No matter what I do, I can’t win your favor. Since Grandmother dotes on me, of course, I should stay close to her.”

Tang Gang’s brows furrowed deeply.

For a moment, he seemed unsure how to respond.

Just then, Ganlu, one of the Old Madam’s personal maids, entered the room.

After offering a respectful bow, she conveyed her mistress’s message.

“The Old Madam has heard about the heir’s injuries and has instructed that he be properly cared for. As for Second Young Master, he has spent the entire day by her side, fulfilling his filial duties. The Old Madam says that if the Marquis still wishes to punish him, she asks that he go easy—after all, Second Young Master must accompany her for breakfast tomorrow and prepare for the estate retreat.”

Tang Gang rubbed his forehead, frustration evident.

“I understand. Tell my mother to rest early—this is a minor matter, she needn’t worry herself over it.”

Ganlu promptly took her leave.

Meanwhile, Tang Mo sat smugly, exuding an I have Grandmother backing me up kind of air.

Tang Gang bristled at the sight.

“Get out of my sight!”

Tang Mo rose at once, walking away without so much as a backward glance.

Watching him leave, Tang Gang stood there, hand on his hip, muttering under his breath—

“This unfilial brat.”

Back in Qiushi Courtyard, Tang Mo stormed inside, dramatically slamming the door shut.

Still fuming, he grumbled about his father’s favoritism.

But the moment the servants left, his expression shifted completely.

Smiling, he eagerly walked over to Xin An.

“I handled what you asked me to. Satisfied?”

“It really was you?”

She had suspected it all along.

After all, how could Tang Rong, completely fine one moment, suddenly get ambushed and beaten?

And then there was the excuse—‘wrong person’?

The Marquisate’s carriages bore their insignia. How could someone mistake it?

“You’re quite clever,” she admitted.

“And I have to say, seeing his swollen pig-face today was immensely satisfying.”

Tang Mo beamed.

“I set it up a while ago, thinking I’d have to wait longer for the opportunity. Didn’t expect karma to come knocking so quickly.”

“Karma?” Xin An raised an eyebrow.

“That’s right,” Tang Mo said smugly.

“I am his karma.”

“Honestly, the moment I saw him tonight, I recognized him immediately. I even considered giving him another beating.”

“I nearly ran up and kicked him myself—but, alas, I have my status to maintain. I couldn’t risk doing it personally.”

Xin An poured him a cup of tea and handed it over.

“Second Young Master is truly a man of great wisdom. My respect.”

Tang Mo took a sip, feeling immensely pleased with himself.

“Tomorrow, send some silver to the guards who got punished because of you,” she said.

“This is a great opportunity to win their loyalty.”

Tang Mo waved a hand.

“Why wait for tomorrow? I’ll have Lailai go right now.”

The Old Madam’s possessions were never ordinary. When Ganlu brought out the pair of Tianhuang stones, everyone in the room couldn’t hide their astonishment.

The stones were translucent, lustrous, and smooth, their golden surface interwoven with delicate red veins—true Tianhuang Dong of the highest grade.

Even ordinary Tianhuang stones were worth their weight in gold, but Tianhuang Dong of this quality was ten times more valuable and considered a tribute item for the imperial court.

Tang Mo hesitated, suddenly unsure if he should accept them.

“Grandson thought they were just ordinary Tianhuang stones… but these are far too precious. I wouldn’t dare take them.”

Tang Rong’s gaze remained fixed on the stones, unable to look away. The desire in his eyes was impossible to conceal.

Meanwhile, Xin An kept her usual faint smile, her gaze briefly sweeping over Tang Rong’s face.

A man who always prided himself on his composure now found himself unable to speak up for what he wanted—how utterly satisfying.

“This kind of fine stone is wasted on me,” Tang Mo said hesitantly.

The Old Madam picked up one of the stones and studied it for a moment.

“I don’t understand its worth. To me, it’s just a pretty-looking rock. But today, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll gift them to you—you’re not allowed to refuse.”

Tang Mo’s expression turned deeply touched.

“Grandmother treats me so well… I—”

Before he could finish, his eyes turned red, making the Old Madam feel even more affection for him.

“Look at this poor child—so pitiful that it makes people adore him.”

Truth be told, Tang Mo’s features were even finer than Tang Rong’s. It was just that most people had always focused on Tang Rong, leaving Tang Mo overlooked.

But now, with his deliberate charm and affectionate display, the Old Madam’s heart melted completely.

Who wouldn’t love a handsome grandson who was sweet and affectionate?

Tang Rong clenched his fists beneath his sleeves.

The Tianhuang stones he had acquired were nothing compared to these imperial-grade pieces.

The Old Madam’s favoritism was truly outrageous.

After some lighthearted banter, Tang Mo happily accepted the Tianhuang stones.

Grinning, he turned to Xin An and winked playfully.

“I’ll have a master engrave them into seals—one for you, one for me.”

Xin An pretended to blush, putting on a shy expression, which only made the Old Madam laugh even harder.

As the servants began preparing for the meal, Tang Mo spoke up again.

“Grandmother, I’d love some crispy sesame cakes today.”

“You little rascal! You’ve turned my place into your personal dining hall, haven’t you?”

The Old Madam laughed so hard her shoulders shook, then turned to Ganlu.

“Hurry and tell the kitchen. Otherwise, this rascal will throw a tantrum if he doesn’t get his cakes.”

Ganlu also chuckled as she went to pass the order.

Tang Rong felt that he should laugh along and say something to lighten the mood.

But after struggling for a moment, all he could muster was:

“Second Brother is just as playful as he was in childhood… still with a child’s temperament.”

Tang Mo replied easily, still smiling.

“Father and Big Brother take care of all the important matters in the household. As for me, I’m not very bright. Other than eating and amusing myself, I really don’t know what else I can do. Being able to entertain Grandmother is enough for me.”

“You should focus on causing less trouble for your father,” the Old Madam said, shaking her head fondly.

Tang Mo hurried forward to support her as she stood up.

“Grandmother, I really am improving. Next time Father tries to punish me, you have to protect me.”

The Old Madam laughed again, thoroughly enjoying the lively atmosphere.

Breakfast was warm and lively, but this only applied to Tang Mo, Xin An, and the Old Madam.

Tang Rong and Tao Yiran, on the other hand, sat stiffly, feeling completely out of place.

Tang Rong had always been the center of attention, yet today, he found himself watching his younger brother bask in favor while he was ignored.

The contrast was jarring.

For the first time, he felt a genuine sense of crisis.

Ever since Tang Mo had gotten married, something about him had changed.

The past few days, he had been in high spirits, while Tang Rong himself had faced one setback after another.

After breakfast, Tang Mo and Xin An remained at Spring Glory Courtyard, planning to stay for lunch and even nap there before dinner.

The Old Madam pretended to scold them for being shameless, but the joy in her eyes was obvious.

Meanwhile, back at Spring Blossom Courtyard, Tang Rong and Tao Yiran were both in low spirits.

Tao Yiran sighed with guilt.

“I feel like I’m not as capable as Second Sister-in-law… Did I embarrass you?”

Tang Rong smiled lightly.

“Don’t compare yourself to her. She’s from a merchant family—she knows how to lower herself when needed.”

“Second Brother, on the other hand, has always been mischievous. He’s good at joking around and making people laugh. That’s just their way of doing things—we couldn’t imitate them even if we tried.”

“Grandmother may enjoy that kind of behavior, but outsiders do not. You shouldn’t overthink it—your grace and refinement are beyond comparison.”

Tao Yiran smiled.

“It may be unseemly to speak about others behind their backs, but today, I truly feel fortunate to have married you. You are a true gentleman, like the bright moon in the sky—I can’t imagine you ever lowering yourself to flattery and pleading for favor. I’m glad it was you.”

At that moment, Tang Rong felt deeply satisfied.

The couple enjoyed a moment of tender affection before reluctantly parting.

But as Tang Rong stepped outside, his mind was still fixated on the Tianhuang stones.

He was also furious about the Old Madam’s favoritism.

That afternoon, while speaking with Tang Gang, he casually brought it up.

“Imperial-grade Tianhuang Dong… Only the palace has such stones. Grandmother truly has extraordinary treasures. Second Brother seemed quite happy to receive them.”

Tang Gang’s expression darkened.

He hadn’t even known the Old Madam possessed Tianhuang Dong.

“Your grandfather brought back many treasures from his military campaigns. All of them were registered with the imperial court, and because of his guilt over your Second Uncle, he left them all to your grandmother.”

“The Empress Dowager also enjoys gold and jade, and every time your grandmother visited the palace, she received even more as gifts. After all these years, even she probably doesn’t know how much she owns.”

“The Empress Dowager knows that your grandmother enjoys gold, silver, and jade, so every time she visits the palace, she receives gifts. After so many years, your grandmother probably doesn’t even know how much she owns.”

This was one of the reasons Tang Gang was displeased with the Old Madam.

The household was not particularly wealthy, and there were expenses at every turn. At times, they even struggled to gather the necessary funds for bribes and favors, yet the Old Madam hoarded all those treasures, never offering up even a single piece.

He looked up at Tang Rong.

“What do you think?”

Of course, Tang Rong hoped that the Old Madam would bring out her collection—even if she only offered half, it would be a great help.

But such words could never be spoken aloud.

Saying them would be the same as committing great disrespect.

Tang Rong’s response was careful.

“I have no thoughts on the matter. Grandmother’s possessions are hers to give to whomever she pleases. Today, she gifted Second Brother because he knows how to please her. I suppose I should make an effort to spend more time by Grandmother’s side as well.”

Tang Gang’s hopes were dashed.

He had expected Tang Rong to speak his mind, after which he could scold him in feigned disapproval and later bring up the matter to the Old Madam, perhaps persuading her to part with a few valuables.

Tang Rong, on the other hand, had been waiting for Tang Gang to say it first.

He had promised Tao Yiran a yellow jade peony, but he had yet to figure out how to ask for it.

Each had their own schemes, and so the conversation came to a deadlock.

Tang Gang waved a hand dismissively.

“I have an engagement with Minister Wang tonight. Go prepare yourself.”

Tang Rong, feeling disappointed, had no choice but to withdraw unwillingly.

That evening, after dinner, Tang Mo, Xin An, and Wang Shi accompanied the Old Madam for a walk around the courtyard to aid digestion.

The Old Madam was in high spirits, strolling for nearly half an hour before returning to her chambers.

Tang Mo went out of his way to be especially attentive, even waiting until the Old Madam had fallen asleep before leaving with Xin An.

As they passed through the front courtyard, they noticed two figures limping toward them in the dim glow of lantern light.

Their movements were suspicious, almost furtive.

Tang Mo’s interest was piqued.

Stepping forward, he called out loudly,

“Who dares sneak into the Marquisate in the dead of night? Guards!”

The patrolling guards rushed over immediately.

Without waiting for the figures to explain themselves, a flurry of fists and kicks rained down upon them.

The courtyard erupted with cries of pain.

It wasn’t until more lanterns were brought over to illuminate the scene that Tang Mo gasped in shock.

“Big Brother? What on earth happened to you tonight?”

Gu Jinchao explained to her maternal grandmother, “Grandmother, do you still remember Yunxiang, the maid who accompanied my mother as part of her dowry when she married into the Gu family?”

Madam Ji nodded at once and replied, “Of course, Yunxiang grew up alongside your mother since childhood. After your father took in Concubine Song, I was the one who urged your mother to have him take Yunxiang as well. Later, she was elevated to the status of a concubine, but she was unfortunate—she passed away before she could give birth to a child.”

Jinchao smiled faintly. “Though my father may not be as devoted as he appears, he is not one to favor just anyone at random. My mother once said that he was genuinely fond of Yunxiang back then; otherwise, he wouldn’t have agreed so readily to take her in. After Yunxiang became a concubine, Concubine Song even lost favor for a time.”

Of course, these were not words her mother had told her directly. Rather, after her mother’s initial remarks, she had gone to ask Nanny Tong for further details.

Her grandmother gave her a peculiar look and asked, “Are you thinking…?”

Jinchao nodded. “Yunxiang had two elder sisters—one was Concubine Yun, Yun Jin, and the other was named Yun Yan. I heard that Yun Yan was later married off as a concubine to the son of a county magistrate. What I want is to find Yun Yan’s daughter. If she resembles Yunxiang, Father might be moved by old affections. Otherwise, at this point in time, he would not take a concubine so casually. Not only for the sake of his official career but also because Concubine Song would oppose it.”

Madam Ji fell silent for a moment before responding, “Tomorrow, I’ll summon Concubine Yun so you can ask her where Yun Yan was married off to. If her daughter is still unmarried, we can bring her back directly. As the illegitimate granddaughter of a mere county magistrate, there’s no real obstacle…”

She had been about to say that, should the other party refuse, they could simply pressure them into submission. Neither the Ji family nor the Gu family was a force that a minor county magistrate could afford to offend. Besides, for a soon-to-be-dismissed magistrate, forming such a marriage connection could only be beneficial.

Gu Jinchao appreciated her grandmother’s decisiveness. 

After discussing the matter with Madam Ji, she felt a little more at ease. Before arriving, she had worried that her grandmother might not support her, but it seemed that things hadn’t changed since her childhood—once she voiced a desire, her grandmother would never oppose her.

As night fell, Jinchao accompanied Madam Ji to the Hanging Flower Hall for dinner. After the meal, Gu Jinrong engaged in a lively conversation with Ji Yun, discussing the reading methods of Sage Zhu.

Ji Yun, despite his young age, possessed extensive knowledge and did not display arrogance over his scholarly achievements. He spoke in an unhurried, steady manner, citing classical texts with remarkable eloquence.

He remarked, “Sage Zhu is quite different from other scholars. If one were to consider his greatest achievement, I would argue that it is not his Lixue theory (also known as The School of the Universal Principle – principles of Neo-Confucianism). While his Lixue is well-structured, his actions often contradict his own principles, making it difficult to convince others. Confucianism, on the other hand, is superior. Yet compared to the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, he still falls short. If Brother Rong’er is fond of Sage Zhu’s works, it would be better to read more of Confucius and Mencius—those would be more beneficial for the imperial examination.”

Gu Jinrong found this odd and asked, “How did Sage Zhu contradict his own principles?”

Ji Yun coughed lightly, his face slightly reddening, and changed the subject.

Gu Jinchao glanced at him with mild interest. He appeared so rigid and serious, yet he clearly had knowledge of scandalous historical accounts… 

It was widely rumored that although Sage Zhu preached *‘preserving heavenly principles and extinguishing human desires’*, he had in fact taken two nuns as concubines and even engaged in an illicit relationship with his own daughter-in-law. His actions and words were utterly contradictory, and he was widely criticized for his hypocrisy.

After the meal, Madam Ji called Ji Yao to the Shexian Pavilion for a discussion. Jinchao waited for her in her grandmother’s courtyard, but after such a long journey, she ended up dozing off on the arhat bed. 

By the time she regained full awareness, the warm glow of lanterns shone through the windows, and a soft, green brocade blanket covered her.

She sat up slightly, only to realize that there was no one in the inner chamber. However, she could hear voices from outside.

“…He’s truly giving me a headache!” It was her grandmother’s voice, sounding distinctly irritated.

Jinchao lifted the corner of the curtain and peered outside. Madam Ji was standing under the covered corridor, speaking with Mama Song.

Mama Song comforted her, “You must allow the Second Young Master some time. After all, this matter came upon him too suddenly.”

Madam Ji’s tone was frigid. “Hasn’t he had enough time already? He and Chao’er grew up together. If anyone knows her best, he would certainly be among them. I had thought he had finally settled down and learned to listen over the years, but who knew he still has such a rebellious streak!”

Mama Song sighed softly before hesitating for a moment. Then, she spoke in a low voice, “Great Madam, having observed for so many years, I must admit—I don’t fully understand either. The young mistress has been cherished and adored in our Ji household. You have doted on her endlessly… But if you’ve ever heard what outsiders say about her, you might understand why the Second Young Master refuses.”

Jinchao’s heart tightened at those words.

If even Mama Song knew of the rumors surrounding her, then surely, her grandmother must be aware of them as well. But why would this involve her Second Cousin? What did this have to do with him?

There was a long pause before she heard her grandmother speak again.

“Of course, I know…” Madam Ji’s voice softened. “Back when Han’er¹ (Ji Han) was growing up by my side, I had no time to properly care for her. As a result, she was raised by the former Great Madam, growing up meek and soft-spoken, never daring to resist anything. When she married Gu Deshao, he took concubine after concubine—did she ever fight back? Back then, just because of a single statement from Daoist Qingxu, Chao’er was taken from her mother’s side and brought to live with me. Before she could even return, her father had already fathered a second and third daughter…”

Jinchao’s fingers clenched tightly around the blanket.

Her grandmother continued, “When Chao’er was five years old, I took her back home for a visit. At that time, Han’er had just given birth to Rong-ge’er, and Gu Deshao also had that well-mannered and sensible Gu Lan by his side. No one even thought to hold her. When I returned from a walk, I found Chao’er hiding alone in a dark room, too afraid to come out… At that moment, I resolved that I would never allow her to be bullied by others. So after we returned, I doubled my efforts in spoiling her, unwilling to let her suffer even the slightest grievance.”

Mama Song’s voice was filled with emotion. “I know you cherish her dearly. I’ve watched Chao’er grow up—I know she is, at heart, a pure and sincere child… But what about her future?”

Jinchao lowered her gaze, her heart weighing heavily with emotions she couldn’t quite name.

Madam Ji let out a sigh. “That is why I made up my mind long ago—when Chao’er comes of age, Yao’er will marry her and bring her into the family. Under my watchful eye, let’s see who dares to mistreat her.”

Mama Song hesitated before saying, “But have you considered… what if the Second Young Master does not wish to?”

Madam Ji gave a cold laugh. “He never wanted to involve himself in Ji family matters before, yet hasn’t he handled them well now? I raised him myself—I know his temperament. As long as I force him to agree, he won’t go back on his word. Once he commits, he will do his utmost to fulfill his duty. It is precisely because of this that I dare entrust Chao’er to him.”

She sighed again. “It’s a pity… I only wanted to protect Chao’er, yet no one in the Gu family is willing to do so. The moment she brought up those matters today, I knew—how could she have understood such schemes before? Someone must have forced her into it…”

Gu Jinchao let the curtain fall quietly and walked toward the brazier, her face barely concealing her shock.

Her hands trembled as she grasped the carved screen for support, the other covering her mouth. Tears were already streaming down her face.

She had always thought that her grandmother simply indulged her out of affection. She never imagined that her grandmother had planned her future so thoroughly—intending to protect her for a lifetime.

Her mind spun rapidly. So this was why so many things in her past life had never made sense!

A month before her mother passed away, Ji Yao had approached her father to propose marriage.

At the time, she had been utterly baffled. Her Second Cousin had never treated her with any particular warmth—his attitude toward her was no different from how he treated others. So it had been at her grandmother’s behest that he came forward. In other words, he had eventually relented to her grandmother’s wishes.

…Of course. With Grandmother’s methods, how could Ji Yao have resisted?

No wonder. Even their Third Cousin, who was younger, had already married a principal wife and had a child over a year old. Yet Ji Yao, the eldest legitimate son, had neither a wife nor even a concubine. It was all because he had been waiting for her.

All the doubts she had once harbored about her grandmother vanished in an instant.

In her past life, she had been infatuated with Chen Xuanqing, foolishly hoping for just a glance from him. Just one look from him had been enough to make her heart soar. So when Ji Yao had proposed, and her father had asked for her opinion, she had mercilessly refused.

Later, Ji Yao had married the third young lady of the Yongyang Bo family. The couple had been deeply affectionate, their marriage harmonious and joyful.

Looking back now, she was almost grateful she had refused—at least Ji Yao hadn’t been forced into a difficult situation.

Jinchao laughed bitterly at herself. In her past life, she had been renowned for her beauty, famous throughout Yanjing. And yet, not a single person had ever truly loved her. How utterly pathetic.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Jinchao quickly lay back down on the arhat bed.

Her grandmother entered the room, tucking the blankets snugly around her. Noticing the traces of tears on her face, she gently wiped them away before speaking softly to Mama Song. “Why does she look as if she’s been crying?”

“Perhaps she was reminded of something sorrowful…”

Mama Song’s voice was quiet as well.

Madam Ji’s heart ached. “Han’er is gravely ill… Chao’er must protect herself. If that Concubine Yun’s niece is still unmarried, then everything will be easily arranged…”

1. “Han’er” is a term of endearment for Ji Shi, whose given name is Ji Han. ↩︎

As the moon hung over the willow branches, the night market gradually quieted down. After spending an entire day wandering the city, Xin An was completely satisfied. The moment she got into the carriage, she began yawning.

“I’m exhausted.”

“I thought your legs were made of iron.”

Tang Mo massaged his sore legs. “Next time I take you out, I need to set some limits. Seriously, how can you walk so much?”

Not only could she walk, but she could gamble too. She had placed consecutive bets at the Cuju match earlier and somehow managed to win two taels of silver. Her luck was unbelievable.

Xin An, still teary-eyed from her yawn, replied, “How should I know? I didn’t feel tired at all while walking, but now that I’m sitting down, my legs are aching.”

“But today was great. From now on, whenever you go out to have fun, make sure to bring me along. Otherwise, don’t blame me if I tattle on you.”

“You’re so unreasonable.”

Tang Mo decided he wouldn’t step foot outside for the next two days. He needed time to recover. Suddenly, even the idea of going to the estate for a short retreat lost its appeal—he was afraid that once they got there, she wouldn’t be able to sit still.

As they arrived at the Marquisate’s gates, the moment they stepped down from the carriage, they ran into Tang Gang returning home.

Tang Mo inwardly sighed at his bad luck, but still bowed respectfully.

“Father, you’re back.”

Tang Gang eyed him up and down.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been out since morning and are just now returning?”

Tang Mo remained polite and composed.

“Xin An is curious about the city, so I figured she would need to familiarize herself with various places sooner or later. I decided to take her out for the day.”

Tang Gang didn’t say anything more and simply walked inside.

“Rest early,” he said before disappearing through the doors.

Tang Mo smirked at Xin An. “See? Not bad, right?”

“Not bad,” Xin An agreed.

She hurried inside, already thinking about soaking her feet—her legs were aching. Tang Mo, watching her sudden burst of energy, was baffled.

“Didn’t you just say you were sore? How are you walking so fast again?”

The moment they entered Qiushi Courtyard, he immediately gave orders.

“Prepare two basins of hot water for soaking.”

The warm water worked wonders. As Xin An relaxed, Chunlü, who had stayed home all day, came over to massage her calves while reporting on the household matters—especially what had happened at Spring Blossom Courtyard.

“Young Madam, the eldest young madam gave her famille rose vase to the heir. In return, he handed over the storeroom keys to her.”

Tang Mo let out a sigh of comfort, stretching his legs.

“Smart move.”

Chunlü didn’t quite understand, but Xin An did.

How much could Tang Rong possibly have? By letting Tao Yiran manage his personal finances, he could openly access the money and resources from her dowry. If she refused, he could guilt-trip her into providing funds.

But things weren’t so simple—Tao Yiran wasn’t the same woman as in the past. She might not be so easy to manipulate.

After soaking her feet, Tang Mo handed a small lacquered box to Xin An.

Inside was his personal stash of savings from over the years, along with two keys—the keys to his storeroom.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he explained, “but I figure you’ll have expenses in the courtyard. It wouldn’t be fair for you to cover everything alone. I’ve got a few valuable items in my storeroom—if you ever need them, you can use them at your discretion.”

Xin An accepted it without hesitation.

“Even if you didn’t offer it, I would’ve asked for it anyway. If you want to live comfortably in this household, you need money to smooth things over—there’s no getting around it.”

She then brought up another matter.

“The Xin family’s residence in the capital is only used when my parents visit. Most of the time, it’s empty.”

“If no one lives there for too long, it’ll fall into disrepair. I was thinking of spending some silver to renovate and redecorate it, but I haven’t decided what to do with it yet.”

Tang Mo rubbed his hands together, his face full of anticipation.

“If Father-in-law and Mother-in-law aren’t using it, why not turn it into our private retreat?”

“In the future, we’ll need a proper place to host gatherings. The Marquisate isn’t the best location for that—it’s too easy for people to snoop around.”

Xin An agreed. It was true. Any minor disturbance in the Marquisate was quickly known by everyone.

Tang Mo was already planning the renovations.

“The garden needs to be expanded so it’s better suited for entertaining. Father-in-law, Mother-in-law, and Huan can keep their quarters as they are, but no one else should live there permanently. Just have the place cleaned daily so it’s ready whenever they visit.”

“Also, we should assign a few trusted people to handle the upkeep.”

Xin An nodded. “I’ll have Uncle Wang come talk to you later. He’ll take care of the renovations.”

Tang Mo got up, stretching. “I’m going to bed.”

Before leaving, he asked, “Do you want me to tell Grandmother tomorrow that you’re too tired and need to rest? That way, you can sleep in a little longer.”

“No need.”

Xin An still wanted to win favor with the Old Madam. Gaining her support was crucial. Besides—

“Breakfast at Grandmother’s place is delicious.”

“True,” Tang Mo chuckled. “And there’s more variety. I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

The household breakfasts were always set meals, but if you wanted more variety, you had to pay out of pocket. Going to the Old Madam’s courtyard meant they could enjoy extra dishes without spending a coin—a win-win situation.

Xin An yawned, then climbed into bed.

Outside, Nanny Wang hesitated, wanting to speak but ultimately holding back.

She couldn’t understand the relationship between the two.

They seemed harmonious—they discussed everything, stood side by side, and even had no reservations about things like soaking their feet together. They had literally seen each other’s feet, yet they still weren’t sharing a room?

Their dynamic was truly a mystery.

Perhaps it was exhaustion, or maybe she was simply in a great mood, but Xin An fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

When she woke up, she felt completely refreshed.

By the time she and Tang Mo arrived at Spring Glory Courtyard, they discovered that Tang Rong and Tao Yiran were already there, waiting outside.

“Big Brother and Sister-in-law are here so early? How unusual.”

Tang Mo couldn’t resist a jab.

Tang Rong responded with his signature polite smile.

“Second Brother and Sister-in-law aren’t exactly late either.” Tang Rong smiled faintly. “I heard you both spent the entire day out yesterday?”

Tang Mo replied with a leisurely grin.

“Unlike Big Brother and Sister-in-law, who have promising futures and heavy responsibilities on their shoulders, we are free to enjoy ourselves however we like.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to find a high-quality Tianhuang stone¹ to carve a seal. I heard Big Brother recently acquired a matching pair—would you be willing to part with one?”

Since everyone loved to say he had a habit of snatching things, he figured he might as well play along and make the reputation stick.

Tang Rong’s polite facade faltered for a moment.

“That set of stones was meant to be carved into seals for me and your sister-in-law. But if Second Brother wants one, I can always find another piece for you—something even better.”

“Then I must thank you in advance, Big Brother.”

At that moment, Ganlu, the Old Madam’s maid, opened the door and invited them inside for their morning greetings.

Old Madam Tang was sipping tea. Seeing them, she smiled warmly.

After they all greeted her, she glanced at Tang Mo.

“I heard you talking outside just now. What was that about?”

Tang Mo stepped forward with a grin.

“Big Brother said he recently found a pair of Tianhuang stones to be carved into matching seals for himself and Sister-in-law. When he learned that I also have an appreciation for Tianhuang, he kindly offered to help me find one as well. I was just thanking him.”

Old Madam Tang chuckled.

“Your Big Brother is about to begin his post at the Ministry of Rites. He won’t have the time to search for stones for you.”

“As it happens, I have a pair of Tianhuang stones myself. They’ve been sitting unused for years—why don’t I give them to you? You and your wife can each have one, as a symbol of harmony and unity.”

Tang Mo hadn’t expected such a stroke of luck.

He immediately knelt down and bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Grandmother! I always knew you were the kindest and most loving!”

1. Tianhuang is an exceptionally rare and highly prized variety of Shoushan stone, often referred to as the “Emperor of Stones.” Found exclusively in Shoushan, Fujian Province, Tianhuang is known for its warm golden hue, fine texture, and translucency. Historically, it was considered more valuable than gold, often used for imperial seals and treasured by scholars and nobility. Top-grade Tianhuang, known as Tianhuang Dong, is even rarer, possessing a smooth, jelly-like quality and streaks of red or white veins. It was traditionally reserved as a tribute item for the imperial court. ↩︎

Everyone in the Ji family knew that Old Madam Ji doted on her.

When she was young, she once played in her second cousin’s study and took a liking to his favorite Duan inkstone¹. She insisted on taking it home, but despite always indulging her, this time, her second cousin refused to part with it. She immediately turned to Old Madam Ji , who, without hesitation, ordered the inkstone to be sent to her study. Not only that, but she also had the servants fetch two fine inkstones from the storeroom and send them to her second cousin as compensation.

That inkstone had been a gift from his childhood tutor, and he had treasured it dearly. That day, he stood alone in his study, gazing at a cluster of emerald bamboo in silence for a long time.

As for Jinchao, she hadn’t even liked the inkstone all that much—only the carved sika deer on its surface had caught her fancy. After playing with it for a few days, she discarded it in a corner of her study, where it eventually grew moldy and was never seen again.

From that incident onward, the servants and maids in the Ji household all understood one thing: if even the legitimate son of the Ji family could not refuse Gu Jinchao, who else in the entire household could rival the favor she held with the Grand Madam? This indulgence had spoiled her to no small extent.

After touring Xidongpan, a large crowd accompanied Old Madam Ji  to Shexian Pavilion in the outer courtyard. This was where she received the managers of various family businesses and estates. By the time they arrived, Jinchao’s uncles had already been waiting.

The Ji family had only one legitimate son and one concubine-born son. Jinchao also had two aunts who had long been married off, their husbands’ families located far away, making it difficult for them to return to Yanjing frequently.

Her eldest uncle and aunt had one son. A concubine-born eldest son had died young, leaving the legitimate son, Ji Yao, as her second cousin, while the concubine-born third cousin, Ji Yun, had an already married half-sister. Her second uncle and aunt had a fourth cousin, Ji Can, and two concubine-born daughters who had yet to marry. Aunt Yun, a concubine, had no children and held little status within the household.

At this moment, Jinchao took out the gifts she had brought. There were presents for each household, a longevity lock of gold for her eldest nephew, and a lacquered candy box for her grandmother.

Upon seeing the multiple boxes of sweets, her grandmother chuckled, “So you still remember that I eat candy? You brought so much, but I’m too old to eat it all.”

Jinchao grinned and took her grandmother’s arm. “How could you be old? Your hair is still jet black, and you look far more energetic than I do!”

Gu Jinrong also stepped forward to pay respects to his two uncles and cousins.

Ji Yao, the legitimate eldest son of the Ji family, wore a robe of fine white linen and had a jade xiao pin securing his hair. With his handsome features and tall stature, he carried an air of scholarly grace.

Old Madam Ji  spoke to Jinchao about Ji Yao. “He’s learning household management from me now and is picking it up quickly. That restaurant in Baodi is under his care, and business is thriving. He’s even come up with a few signature dishes. If you’d like to try them, he can take you there.”

Ji Yao smiled faintly and cupped his hands in greeting. “It has been a long time, Cousin.”

Jinchao returned his smile but was inwardly surprised. In her memory, her second cousin had always been fond of books, not business. He carried the cultured, unhurried air of a scholar. But as the legitimate eldest son of the Ji family, he had little choice in determining his own path.

Her eldest uncle was a tall, steady man in his forties. He inquired about Gu Jinrong’s studies.

Gu Jinrong replied, “I am not studying at the Imperial Academy but rather learning under Master Zhou in Qifang Hutong. I have completed The Great Learning and The Doctrine of the Mean and am currently studying The Analects.”

When speaking of academic pursuits, Gu Jinrong became notably more serious. His eldest uncle had once passed the provincial exams, and in three years, Jinrong himself would be taking the autumn imperial examination. However, he was not confident about his prospects.

His uncle nodded. “You are still young. Failing once is no great matter. Your third cousin, however, is an hereditary scholar at the Imperial Academy…”

His aunt interjected with a smile, “He is now a Juren² scholar!”

That meant he had passed the provincial exams!

Jinchao was delighted. She had only vaguely remembered that Ji Yun had once obtained the Juren title and later participated in the palace examination, though he had not been selected as a Hanlin scholar. She hadn’t recalled exactly when it had happened—she hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Ji Yun himself only smiled lightly. He had always been composed and reserved.

Gu Jinrong offered his congratulations. “I hadn’t heard about this! Becoming a Juren at such a young age is truly an impressive feat.”

Having studied himself, he knew how difficult it was to pass the exams, let alone at Ji Yun’s age—not even twenty yet.

Ji Can, the fourth cousin, grinned. “I have no hopes of passing the provincial exams, so all the scholarly expectations in the family rest on Third Brother. Most people would be celebrating such an achievement, but Third Brother is strange—he hasn’t even stepped outside since passing.”

Jinchao shared in their happiness. Even if her third cousin never advanced to the Jinshi level, having another Juren in the family was still a great honor. She turned to her grandmother and asked, “Why didn’t you send me a letter about this?”

Her grandmother smiled. “The results just came out this autumn. I had planned to tell you after the New Year…”

Old Madam Ji was also pleased. It had been many years since the Ji family had produced a promising scholar. If Ji Yun could pass the metropolitan exams and participate in the palace examination, securing the Jinshi title, the Ji family’s prestige would reach unprecedented heights.

Gu Jinrong now looked at Ji Yun with admiration and asked, “May I come to discuss essay composition with you in the future?”

Ji Yun nodded. “You are always welcome.”

After their meeting at Shexian Pavilion, Gu Jinrong followed Ji Yun and Ji Can to the study to discuss scholarly matters. Jinchao was pleased that he was interacting more with the Ji family—it was certainly better than being around Gu Lan.

Old Madam Ji returned to Xidongpan with Jinchao.

Her grandmother was deeply concerned about her mother’s illness, but the Ji family’s affairs kept her occupied. She had only been able to visit once, six months ago.

Jinchao reassured her that everything was fine, though she dared not mention her mother’s recent relapse, fearing it would worry her grandmother.

Old Madam Ji held her hand and sighed, “Chao’er, I haven’t seen you in half a year, but you seem to have matured a great deal…”

A pang of sorrow filled her heart. If nothing external had forced her to change, how could Gu Jinchao have suddenly become more sensible? She assumed it was because of Madam Gu’s illness that Jinchao had grown sorrowful.

Jinchao knew what her grandmother was thinking, but inwardly, she felt a bitter irony. If her mother’s illness had truly made her realize things sooner, then perhaps it would have been for the best.

Gu Jinchao naturally understood what her grandmother was thinking, but in her heart, she felt a touch of self-mockery. If only her mother’s illness had truly awakened her back then.

Although her grandmother had a stern countenance, she treated Jinchao with exceptional warmth. Her affection was pure, without ulterior motives, never questioning or demanding anything in return.

Such unconditional love—whether in her past life or this one—Jinchao had only ever received from this one grandmother.

Just then, Mama Song brought over a plate of lotus root starch cakes, one of Jinchao’s favorites. Seeing Old Madam Ji holding Jinchao’s hand by the stove, she chuckled, “The young mistress should visit more often. Every time you return, the Grand Madam smiles much more.”

Mama Song had once been Old Madam Ji’s personal maid, accompanying her as part of her dowry. She had served her for over fifty years and was one of the most trusted people in the household.

Old Madam Ji also laughed and said, “You don’t come back often enough! Not long ago, I had a pond of water lotuses grown just for you. I thought you’d come here to escape the summer heat, but who knew? By the time the flowers bloomed and withered, their leaves had already wilted, yet you still hadn’t returned.”

Jinchao loved admiring lotuses, particularly those in soft shades of violet and orange-yellow.

She could only offer a helpless smile—she hadn’t even known that her grandmother had cultivated lotuses just for her.

But this time, her visit was not merely to see her grandmother. She also needed to gather information about that so-called niece of Yun Yiniang.

Jinchao asked about Concubine Yun.

Old Madam Ji furrowed her brows and said, “Your second uncle’s concubine… I never paid her much attention. Last year, your second uncle took in Wan Yun, a maid who had served your second aunt, and ever since then, the concubines in that household have kept a low profile. Why are you suddenly asking about her?”

Jinchao’s expression remained calm. “Mother is unwell, and Concubine Guo and Concubine Du have long since lost their youthful charm. Right now, Concubine Song is the only one serving Father. Besides tending to him, she also has to care for Mother’s illness and manage the inner household. I fear she is overburdened, so I was thinking of finding Father another concubine to share the responsibilities.”

Old Madam Ji’s grip on Jinchao’s hand tightened, and her expression grew solemn.

“…Such an important matter, and you only now decide to plan for it? Why wasn’t this arranged sooner?”

Jinchao merely smiled. “Mother had never agreed to it before… We haven’t even spoken to Father yet. We thought it best to find someone suitable first before bringing up the matter.”

Her grandmother studied her for a long moment. Jinchao offered no further explanation. There was no need—her grandmother was shrewd enough to understand her true intentions.

Her father, as a Langzhong in the Ministry of Revenue, oversaw military provisions, tax collections, salaries, and grain storage. His superior, Vice Minister Lin Xianzhong, was also his mentor. Over the years, Lin Xianzhong had gained increasing favor with the emperor and had close ties with Fan Chuan, a Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet. Now was precisely the moment when Lin Xianzhong was poised for promotion. If that happened, her father would undoubtedly reap significant benefits as well.

At such a critical juncture, her father would not take a concubine lightly.

However, if he didn’t take in another concubine, Concubine Song, enjoying his favor, would inevitably conceive a son. In her previous life, half a year after her mother’s passing, Concubine Song had given birth to a child and was then elevated to the status of principal wife. But that child had been born over a month prematurely—by calculating backward, if her father didn’t take another concubine soon, Concubine Song would conceive in about half a month. And when that happened, who would be able to stop her from becoming the furen³ of the Gu family?

This could not be delayed any longer. The matter had to be settled within the next half-month.

Her grandmother pondered for a long time. Finally, after seeming to come to a decision, she asked, “If you simply want a well-behaved, clean girl, I have plenty of suitable maids here. Why specifically ask about Yun Yiniang?”

Old Madam Ji  had indeed grasped Jinchao’s intentions. She understood exactly what kind of woman Jinchao wanted for her father.

Jinchao smiled faintly. If anyone else had heard her say such things, they would surely look at her with strange eyes. But her grandmother never would.

1. The Duan inkstone is one of China’s Four Famous Inkstones, prized for its smooth texture and ability to retain moisture, making it ideal for grinding ink. Originating from Duanxi, Zhaoqing, these inkstones were symbols of scholarly status and often featured intricate carvings. ↩︎
2. Juren (举人) refers to a scholar who has successfully passed the provincial examination (乡试, Xiangshi), the second level in the imperial examination system. This title granted eligibility for government positions and allowed candidates to compete in the metropolitan examination (会试, Huishi) for the prestigious Jinshi (进士) title. Being a Juren was a significant academic and social achievement, often bringing prestige to one’s family. ↩︎
3. Furen was an honorific title used for the official wife of a high-ranking official, nobleman, or scholar in imperial China. As the primary wife (zhengshi), a furen held the highest status among the women in the household, overseeing family affairs and managing concubines. Unlike concubines, who had limited authority, a furen enjoyed legal recognition and her children were considered the principal heirs. If a concubine was elevated to furen, it signified a major shift in household power, granting her authority over the family’s inner court. ↩︎