Concubine Du’s hands trembled. Only after a long while did she manage to ask, with difficulty, “Miss… what do you mean by this…?”

Jinchao drew out the jade pomegranate from the brocade box, her fingers brushing over the warm, polished surface. “If my mother can see from the afterlife that all of this was done by you, she would surely feel unbearable grief. She was kind to you for so many years, and she cared for Sister Yi diligently. Who would have thought that, at the very end, she would be framed by you and Concubine Song together? Even at death, she could never have imagined you would push the blame onto her. I truly grieve for my mother.”

Concubine Du said nothing. Her lips tightened, her eyes reddening.

Jinchao did not look at her as she continued, “I often heard Mother say one must keep kindness in one’s heart. She taught me so, and she taught Sister Yi the same. Yet who would have thought that such goodwill would lead to such an end… Sister Yi is gentle by nature. If she were to learn what you once did, she would never acknowledge you again.” Jinchao sighed, as though lamenting sincerely.

Concubine Du’s mind was in utter chaos. How does the young lady know about this…? At this point, it no longer mattered how the truth had surfaced—what mattered was that she could not allow Gu Jinchao to tell Gu Yi. Gu Yi already disliked her. If she discovered that Concubine Du had harmed Madam Ji, she would surely loathe her. Gu Yi was her only daughter… Even if that child never called her “mother,” she was still her flesh and blood.

The fact that Jinchao had come to speak to her privately, instead of going straight to Gu Deshao, meant she held no true evidence in hand. She simply wanted a confession—to clear Madam Ji’s name.
But… how could she confess such a thing?

She was trapped on all sides.

Concubine Du looked at Jinchao, her voice barely audible. “Miss… what is it that you truly want?”

Jinchao knew well the fears weighing on her. Without assurance, Concubine Du would never admit anything.

She exhaled slowly. “To be honest, a small maid came to me yesterday. Concubine Song told Sister Lan everything you did, using it to threaten you into helping her. How else would I know? Does Aunt Du wish to be at the mercy of Concubine Song and Gu Lan for the rest of her life?”

Concubine Du’s face turned pale. Song Miaohua… she had actually told Gu Lan!

“If she only forced you into minor tasks, that might still be tolerable. But what if, one day, Concubine Song commits a grave offense and demands that you take the blame? What will you do then? You are a clever woman, Aunt Du—you know I need not speak plainly.” Jinchao paused. “If you admit the truth, I will protect you before Father. And when Sister Yi marries in the future, I will gift her two shops in Baodi. Once she enters the Du household, she will have standing and confidence.”

Concubine Du faltered. Her resolve had already begun to waver.

Just as Jinchao said—she did not wish to remain trapped under Concubine Song’s threats. And day and night she was tormented with guilt over Madam Ji…

After all, Madam Ji had treated her well for many years. Yet she had repaid her like this.

Seeing her silence, Jinchao sighed softly. “Even if you never speak of it, living while bearing the weight of three lives… would you truly find peace?”

Yun Yiniang and the child in her womb, and Madam Ji—how was she not carrying the burden of all three?

Concubine Du collapsed weakly onto the embroidered stool, her voice hollow. “In truth… the matter back then was not as it seems…”

Tears streamed down her face as she cried uncontrollably. “I never thought… never thought I would become someone who harmed others… I truly never meant to hurt Yun Xiang. She stole my favor, and though I disliked her, I never intended to harm her…”

“That day, because of Yun Yiniang, Old Master punished Third Miss with confinement. When she was finally released, she had become so quiet… My heart ached for her, and I grew resentful toward Yun Yiniang… One day, when the little maid was absent, I went to the kitchen to check on her tonic. There were two medicine chests… In a moment of madness, I switched the medicines. I never imagined the maid would take the wrong one… Yun Xiang took it, gave birth early, and encountered a difficult labor. The child never came into this world…”

Concubine Du continued, “These years… I have lived with guilt. I often dream of Yun Yiniang returning with her child, coming for me…”

She stared blankly at the sunlight slipping through the window lattice, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. “I kept telling myself it was not my fault—that Yun Yiniang had no fate. But in truth, the guilt remains. Whenever I see Old Master, I feel ashamed… After all, she died because of me…”

Jinchao listened quietly. This could hardly be called an accident. Yet Concubine Du was pitiable in her own way. A woman usually so cautious had, in one moment of foolishness, committed a small wrong—only for it to erupt into disaster that changed her life entirely.

Concubine Du wiped her tears, then let out a bitter laugh. “Miss, I am not a monster. I despise myself for what I’ve done. For more than ten years I have not known a full night’s sleep… To speak of it now—perhaps it is a relief. I am willing to admit everything, so long as you promise to protect Third Miss. That alone will let me die content.”

Jinchao remained silent for a long time before nodding. “Rest assured. I will protect Sister Yi. But… I have one more question. How did Concubine Song learn of this?”

Concubine Du shook her head, dazed. “I… I don’t know… Before she framed Madam Ji, she came to speak to me. She warned me not to say anything, or she would ruin Third Miss’s marriage prospects. How could I dare defy her…”

“You do not know—Concubine Song is vicious beyond measure. She resents the fact that, though the daughter of a legitimate household, she must bow her head as a concubine. She has nursed that resentment for years… If you wish to see her fall, then ensure she never rises again…”

Jinchao nodded. “Do not worry, Aunt Du. I understand. When the time is right, I will tell you.”

It was not yet time to deliver the final blow.
But soon.

Walking back toward Qingtong Courtyard, she followed the moss-lined bluestone path, the paulownia trees casting broad shade over the walkway. Soft sunlight filtered through the leaves, and a gentle breeze stirred the quiet air.

She glanced toward the distant lake, where willow branches hung low over the water’s surface.

A sudden peacefulness settled in her heart.

Though her mother was gone, she still had to avenge her. After all, she had been reborn; and since Heaven had granted her a second chance, she intended to live well—she would not squander it.

Two days later, when Gu Lan returned from offering incense, her carriage had just reached the Drooping-Flower Gate when a young maid came running to Qingtong Courtyard.

“…Second Miss brought Madam Song back with her. They’re heading to Linyan Pavilion right now.” The little maid thought for a moment and added, “As soon as Madam Song stepped off the carriage, she rewarded the driver with two taels of silver. They were so delighted they nearly bowed the ground flat!”

Qingpu handed the girl a box of pea cakes, and the child left beaming.

Tong Mama smiled as she reported to Jinchao:
“Madam Song was originally the legitimate daughter of a wealthy merchant family in Nanjing. Song Shaoqing came from a fallen gentry household and passed the licentiate examination. To avoid being hindered by money or obligation in his studies, he married Madam Song. After entering the household, she bore two daughters… Old Madam Song could not tolerate it and secretly cut off the tonics meant for the concubines. Only then did the eldest concubine-son come about. Later, Madam Song became pregnant again and gave birth to Concubine Song.”

“Without a son, her position was naturally unstable. Over the years, Song Shaoqing’s little concubines have been brought into the Song household one after another, and Madam Song never dared to utter a complaint. People like her fear being looked down upon the most. No confidence in her heart—thus she must always put on airs.”

Jinchao nodded with a faint smile. The carriage drivers were Gu family servants to begin with; Madam Song’s actions were nothing more than a desperate attempt not to be despised.

She added, “Go and find out how Father reacted.”

Madam Song coming so ostentatiously—Father must have been informed.

Tong Mama quickly returned. “Old Master knows, but said nothing. He simply ordered that Madam Song be attended to properly.”

Jinchao understood her father’s temperament well. He disliked airing family matters, and he certainly would not speak of Madam Ji’s death to Madam Song. Better to maintain the façade of harmony. Gu Lan understood this perfectly too—knowing he would not interfere, she deliberately invited Madam Song to flaunt herself.

Tong Mama continued, “A little maid just came to say—once Madam Song arrived at Linyan Pavilion, she scolded every maid there, and even ordered Caoying to kneel outside for three hours. She said the screen in Concubine Guo and Concubine Du’s quarters was unsightly and demanded that the matrons replace it immediately. She caused quite the commotion!”

Jinchao laughed. “It seems Gu Lan told her nothing. She must think Concubine Song is still the same Concubine Song she remembers—daring to throw her weight around.”

Tong Mama hesitated, then asked softly, “Miss… what do you plan to do?”

Madam Song was merely Concubine Song’s mother, nothing more. To act so arrogantly in the Gu household was indeed excessive.

And regardless of her status as a guest, it was inappropriate of her to visit Concubine Song first. What was Concubine Song’s rank! When visiting a household’s womenfolk, especially when Old Master could not appear, her first stop should have been Jinchao. Yet Madam Song cared nothing for propriety.

If the mountain will not come to me, then I shall go to the mountain.

If she did not go meet Madam Song and remind her who truly ruled the Gu household, it would make little sense.

“She has traveled far—naturally, I must pay my respects,” Jinchao said with a smile.

Night had already fallen. The air was cold and heavy with dew; Caifu, fearing Jinchao might feel chilled, helped her change into a cinnabar-autumn satin cloak.

Qingpu lifted a horn-glass lantern, and with Caifu, Baiyun, and Xu Mama following behind, the group made their way toward Linyan Pavilion.

Xu Mama said, “Madam Song says she will rest in the east wing tonight. She also ordered me to change all the bedding and pillows for new ones. She claimed she cannot stand Hangzhou silk covers and told me to fetch green Luchou covers instead.”

Jinchao found this even more amusing. Did Madam Song truly think that with her mother gone, the Gu family no longer had a mistress in charge?

She smiled lightly. “We mustn’t appear stingy. If she makes further demands, tell her to search the storeroom herself. Whatever she finds, she may use. Let’s see whether she dares to act so shamelessly.”

Xu Mama answered at once, and the maids who overheard all pressed their lips together, laughing quietly.

“People say you cannot have both fish and bear’s paw. My husband has neither a title to inherit nor extraordinary talent; I may never receive an official rank in this life. Only his steady companionship is something to be praised.”

Xin An, not well acquainted with the young madam of the Zhang household, answered politely, “Though Madam Zhang’s husband holds no post beside the young madam, he defends the country with his abilities—worthy of respect.”

The Zhang young madam laughed. “In that case, there’s truly no comparison. Either you envy me, or I envy you; the world indeed affords no perfect solution.”

Beside them, Lin Yao said, “Being in this temple brings a certain serenity. We women are already fortunate enough; whatever more we seek will only fan needless worries.”

“The lotus pond here at Nandu Temple has its charm. I’ve had a spot saved—let us sit together.”

The temple was quiet; although there were no iced basins to cool them, a gentle breeze carried a faint whiff of incense, lending a peaceful air.

They sat and, as women do, their talk inevitably wandered to the capital’s recent amusements—whose household had taken in a favored concubine, which inner chamber was troubled, and the like. Xin An found it slightly amusing—speaking gossip beneath the Buddha’s gaze; she wondered whether the Buddha minded listening.

Still, she was curious.

Still, she listened with interest.

“Second Young Madam,” said the Zhang young madam suddenly, “I heard your mother-in-law and Madame Tao went to the Count of Changning’s estate, and that Madame Tao even brought Tao Yiran along. The Countess of Changning is not easy to appease—how did it go?”

Xin An found the question abrupt. They were hardly close, and it was rude to pry so bluntly. She only smiled lightly and set her teacup down. “I truly don’t know. They did go, but my mother-in-law hasn’t spoken a word about it. I wouldn’t dare to ask. I imagine the Countess’s anger has likely passed by now.”

Madam Zhang found her dull. Who wouldn’t want to watch a quarrel between sisters-in-law, especially in such circumstances? She probably withheld the truth simply because they weren’t close. “The year before last,” Madam Zhang continued, “Miss Yi and Miss Ning had a quarrel. It was nothing serious—just the sort of bickering young ladies often have—but the Countess of Changning refused to let it go. Madam Yi wasn’t one to back down either, and the two families ended up making quite a spectacle of themselves.”

The Zhang young madam, unsatisfied, leaned forward. “They say half the capital is waiting to see how the Marquis’s household apologizes. I doubt the Countess of Changning will let the matter rest so easily.”

Xin An’s expression remained calm. She set down her cup with quiet grace and said,
“My sister-in-law’s skill with the zither is remarkable, but her temper too frank. She failed to consider Miss Ning’s feelings and regretted it deeply afterward. My mother-in-law personally went to call on the Countess. I don’t know what was said, but afterward she visited the Wang residence, in rather good spirits—so I suppose their talk went well.”

“The Countess of Changning loves her daughter dearly; if she spoke harshly, it was out of motherly concern, and rightly so. As for Madame Tao accompanying my sister-in-law, it was simply that she felt it improper for my mother-in-law to apologize alone—it might appear insincere otherwise. So she joined her out of courtesy. There’s nothing so grave about it as Madam Zhang suggests.”

The Zhang young madam’s face stiffened, anger rising.
She already looked down upon Xin An for being of merchant birth—and now this young woman dared talk back so smoothly!

“Second Young Madam truly has a large heart,” she said with a thin smile. “You even rush to defend Tao Yiran now.”

Xin An met her gaze evenly. “I merely spoke the truth. It cannot be called a defense.”

Seeing them spar, Lin Yao smiled. “The temple’s tea is quite good. Xin sister, come with me to adjust your robe.”

Xin An obliged and the two left together. The Zhang young madam sniffed. “What is she putting on?”

“Who knows how pleased she feels inside. I don’t believe she’s entirely indifferent toward Tao Yiran.”

Han Wan’er poured more tea for her. “She’s a new bride—she won’t openly speak ill of her husband’s elder sister. Besides, from my few meetings with her I’ve found her tight-lipped; she’s not one to blab. Don’t expect juicy gossip from her.”

The Zhang young madam paused, then laughed and shook her head, taking a sip. “I must’ve been mistaken—this tea is truly excellent.”

They continued to sip slowly. After a moment, Lin Yao and Xin An walked along the lotus pond. Lin Yao said, “Madam Zhang is frank by nature. Within three months of marriage her husband already left with the troops; bored, she finds amusement in the capital’s gossip. Little sister, don’t take it to heart.”

“How could I?” Xin An answered. “The matter between my sister-in-law and I is not fit for public telling. Whatever transpires within the Marquis’s household should be handled discreetly once outside its gates.”

“Besides, Madam Zhang means no malice. With her husband absent and no children about her, she must find diversions to pass the days.”

Indeed, the Zhang young madam was known for both prying and for speaking—famous for a long tongue.

Lin Yao paused. “No wonder Tang Mo found you so admirable.”

Xin An smiled and watched the large fish in the pond gather—curious. Lin Yao explained they were often released by devotees; once a year the temple dredged them up and sent them downriver to be freed, an act of accruing merit.

“By the way, would you be interested in donating to help the poor?” Lin Yao asked, and here lay the true purpose of her invitation.

“Our Xin family are merchants; we understand how abundance sows shortage. In Huai Jiang we never lag behind in charitable acts. If there is a place in need, Sister Lin, tell me plainly. If I can help, I will.”

Xin An felt a little nervous. She guessed Lin Yao would bring up the Qianjin Hall. The Qianjin Hall trained physicians: many city doctors came from there. Each month the Hall held free clinics—treating common illnesses without charge and distributing medicines. Beggars and children under the care of orphanages often received aid there; the Hall enjoyed a sterling reputation among the poor.

And the one who oversaw the Qianjin Hall was the Empress. Participation in its charitable works fell to noble ladies; Xin An had hoped in her previous life to earn such women’s favor through donations—perhaps even to catch the Empress’s notice—but her efforts had failed, thwarted by Lin Yao and her circle.

Lin Yao’s father was indeed a general, but her mother maintained a close friendship with the Empress, giving Lin Yao influence within the Qianjin Hall. In former days, because those ladies disliked Xin An, they had blocked her at every turn.

True to form, Lin Yao spoke of the Qianjin Hall and explained its workings. Then she said, “Training a single physician means more lives saved—a noble cause. Yet though the free clinics are admirable, the need for medicinal herbs is immense. They are often in short supply, and expensive when bought. Do you by any chance have connections for sourcing herbs?”

Xin An thought of Uncle Bai—he managed the Xin family’s stores of medicines. Each year a vast amount of herbs was consumed; to supply his masterful concoctions the family worked with several herb merchants.

“If it’s common herbs, it’s easy to arrange. Are there any rare materials needed?”

“No, not rare ones—mostly common herbs. If you have a line, I can give you a list later. Would that be agreeable?”

Leaning lightly against Tang Rong’s knee, Tao Yiran spoke of the past—of her admiration, her joy.
Her voice was soft, her smile serene. The slender curve of her hand brushed against his cheek, her eyes brimming with yearning.

“My wish was granted. I became your wife, Rong-lang.
Though our time together has been brief, my heart is content.”

Another tear slipped down her face. Her gaze was tender yet sorrowful.

“Now that Grandmother’s origins have been publicly spoken of by the Countess of Changning, I fear others will repeat the tale tomorrow.
Grandmother treated me with nothing but kindness, raised me with devotion. How could I turn my back on her now? How could I feel shame for her sake?”

“Rong-lang, as radiant as the moon, gifted in both letters and arms—you should have a glorious future ahead.
For the sake of that future, I beg you to write a letter of divorce.
Seek a lady of high birth, one worthy of you. As long as your life prospers, I shall spend the rest of my days beside a lamp and the Buddha, praying for your happiness.”

Such words—how many men under heaven could remain unmoved?

By then, Tang Rong’s heart had already melted.
Tao Yiran had her flaws, yes—but she was generous, gentle, and loved him deeply. True, a lady from a noble house might aid his career, helping him ascend with greater ease—but he was already the heir of a marquisate, one of the capital’s most admired young men.
Did he truly need anyone else’s backing?

Tang Rong had his own pride.

Tao Yiran slowly bent forward, resting her head upon his knee and sobbing softly.
A surge of heat rose from Tang Rong’s chest to the crown of his head; his hand, almost of its own accord, traced her back, then her neck. His thumb brushed repeatedly against the smooth whiteness of her skin.

Tao Yiran, as though unaware, continued to weep in a trembling whisper. The loose ends of her coiffure grazed him again and again, each touch more incendiary than the last, until his breath came short. At last, he pulled her up and led her toward the bed.

That night, Tao Yiran was more ardent than ever—
as though she would cease to exist after dawn.

Tang Rong, lost in her allure, forgot every word his father had spoken, until the candlelight flickered into the deep hours of the night.

Meanwhile, his father, Marquis Tang Gang, lay awake, sleepless.
All night he pondered how to make Tao Yiran relinquish her position, how to silence the Tao family, and which noble household’s daughter might better suit his proud heir.

The next morning, Tang Rong and Tao Yiran, freshly dressed, came to greet Tang Gang and Wang Shi.

He looked satisfied though a faint shadow darkened his eyes;
she was rosy-cheeked, her collar drawn high to hide the telltale marks beneath her skin.

The moment Wang Shi saw them, she understood everything.
Her mood, for once, was pleasant.

“Sit down and eat,” she said with a smile.

Tang Gang, however, caught the same clues and fury surged within him.
With a sweep of his sleeve, he left the hall without a word, striding off to court.

Tang Rong took it in stride— he believed his father would come to understand, and that he could persuade him in time.

That same morning, Xin An was to accompany Lin Yao and the others to Nandu Temple to offer incense.
After paying her respects to Wang Shi, she departed early, with Tang Mo escorting her to meet the group.

Tang Rong and Tao Yiran, unaware, assumed she had simply chosen not to come.

“Shall we wait for Second Brother and his wife?” Tang Rong asked.

“No need,” Wang Shi replied lightly. “They’ve gone out on their own affairs. Let us eat by ourselves.”

Tang Rong wondered briefly what might have called them away but kept his curiosity to himself.

After breakfast, he addressed Wang Shi respectfully.
“Mother, I spoke with Yi’er last night. She understands her mistake regarding the zither incident—she never expected it would bring such grave consequences and regrets it deeply.
As for the matter with her family, she is truly innocent.
I hope Mother will guide her patiently for my sake. If you are ever too occupied, perhaps Yi’er can assist in your stead.”

Tao Yiran stepped forward to bow with utmost decorum, offering a string of contrite words about her thoughtlessness and lack of prudence.

Wang Shi’s lips curved into a smile—though it did not reach her eyes.
Now that her reputation has suffered, she suddenly remembers her mother-in-law, hoping I will help restore her standing.

“I once thought,” Wang Shi began smoothly, “that as a noble-born lady, famed as a talented woman of the capital, your manners would need no guidance. That is why I offered you few reminders before the banquet.

“The Countess of Changning spoke harshly, out of motherly love—this matter can be grave or trivial depending on how it is handled.

“For now, do not concern yourself with easing my worries. What truly matters is how to silence the Countess. That, your father must see to with care.

“In the future, you must watch your words and comportment. Never forget—you are the wife of the heir of the Marquis of Wei Yuan, the principal lady of the next generation. You must always embody grace, restraint, and generosity. For now, it is best that you refrain from going out. The capital never lacks for gossip. Give it time—these whispers will fade.”

Tao Yiran’s eyes reddened, humiliation stinging her chest. But she knew better than to shed tears now. She bowed deeply and murmured her assent.

Wang Shi nodded, satisfied. “Rise.”

Tao Yiran rose carefully—almost stumbling, but managed to steady herself just in time. Wang Shi pretended not to notice and dismissed them both.

Once they had left, Wang Shi’s trusted maid, Mama Pingqiu, entered with tea.

Wang Shi’s smile was faint. “Our dear Marchioness-to-be seems far more adept at handling men than at playing the zither.”

Pingqiu lowered her voice. “Such tricks are fleeting. No flower, however beautiful, blooms forever. To serve through beauty alone—how long can that last?”

She added quietly, “If I may speak boldly—his attachment to her bodes well for our Second Young Master.”

Wang Shi lifted her teacup and gently blew across its surface, clearly agreeing.

A wife of noble birth for the heir was never her wish. Tao Yiran, just as she was, would do nicely.
She was content.

Tang Rong left for his official duties. Tao Yiran, back in Spring Blossom Courtyard, felt an unusual calm.

Unlike her past melancholic days of sighing at the window or brooding by the railing, today she had passed one trial—but she knew her position remained perilous.

To secure her footing within the Marquis’s household, she must hold Tang Rong’s heart fast.
With renewed determination, she began personally sewing garments for him—her needlework delicate, her devotion evident in every stitch.

In contrast, Xin An was at Nandu Temple, kneeling before the solemn Buddha.

Her prayer was sincere—first, to thank Heaven for the mysterious second chance granted to her, and second, to pray for a peaceful, steady life in this world. She did not ask for longevity, only to live safely and die without regret.

For good measure, she also prayed for Tang Mo, her wish being larger than most—hence the offering of extra incense money.

Whether it was faith or serenity, her heart felt lighter than it had in days.

“What did you pray for, Sister Xin?” Lin Yao asked beside her.

Before she could answer, Han Wan’er teased, “Surely for lifelong harmony with her husband.”

Xin An smiled, pressing her embroidered handkerchief to her lips.
To wish that both should live long—is that not harmony everlasting?

“Madam Wei’s eyes are as sharp as ever,” Xin An replied playfully. “I imagine your own wish was much the same?”

The young madam of the Zhang family chimed in, laughing.
“I truly envy Second Young Madam. I saw Second Young Master escorting you personally today—how enviable indeed.”

Her words carried both jest and wistfulness.
The Zhangs were a family of generals; their men were always stationed afar. The house was full of women and children—honor in name, but sorrow in truth.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all day?”

After a long and tiring day, Tang Mo finally returned home. The moment he stepped inside, Xin An eagerly showed off her new hair ornaments and freshly tinted nails.

“Don’t underestimate this,” she said with pride. “That physician, Mistress Zhao, spent the whole day attending to Mother and me. It’s a painstaking process.”

Tang Mo held her hand and examined her fingertips with care. Finally, he nodded. “They do look beautiful. Don’t tell me you dyed your feet too?”

“Of course I did.”

After sitting down and taking a sip of tea, Tang Mo felt the weariness in his body ease. “You truly are a little enchantress,” he said with a teasing smile. “No one else even sees it.”

Xin An leaned closer with a laugh. “But I see it. It makes me happy just looking at it. I’ve never had my nails tinted before, or invited a physician to give me a facial and loosen my back. You’ve no idea how comfortable it is—what a pity I missed out before.”

Tang Mo gave a mock groan. “I toil and sweat outside while you live a life of indulgence at home. I’m so jealous.”

Then he crossed one leg over the other and added cheerfully, “But seeing you dressed like a fairy the moment I come home—it makes everything worth it.”

Xin An burst into laughter. “At least you have good taste.”

After a round of playful chatter, Tang Mo mentioned what he had seen earlier. “When I came back, I ran into Tao Yiran next door. She looked like she’d just returned from outside, eyes swollen like walnuts. Do you know what happened?”

“I don’t.”

She truly didn’t. “Mother might know, but she clearly doesn’t intend to tell me.”

“I suspect she went personally to the Count of Changning’s residence to apologize,” Tang Mo guessed. “Madame Tao came this morning, and they left together.”

Tang Mo sighed. “That Countess of Changning is ruthless. Did she get hold of some leverage? Otherwise, why force such a grand apology over a minor incident? It seems excessive.”

“Who knows?” Xin An looked up from her teacup. “You’re not feeling sorry for her, are you?”

Tang Mo snorted. “I only want to know what’s going on.”

Xin An huffed. “Hmph, you’ve definitely got a guilty conscience.”

Tang Mo rubbed his forehead. “Fine, I won’t say another word. Let her cry herself dry. I just want to know what exactly happened.”

“It must have something to do with the Tao family,” Xin An said. “I’m not sure what it is, but it’s probably serious. Mother’s silence means it may even implicate the Marquis’s household.”

She didn’t voice the rest of her thoughts—how humiliating it had been in her past life to lose to Tao Yiran. To deal with her now would be child’s play. How disgraceful I was then…

“Tomorrow,” she continued, “I’ll send a gift to the Second Prince’s residence, thanking the Second Princess Consort for her kindness at the  Water and Blossoms Banquet.”

“I also had Nanny Wang deliver a Huai Jiang specialty gift to Madam Liao today, at the Liao residence. I told her I was moved by how well we got along at the banquet and wished for her to try some of Huai Jiang’s finest tea. She even sent a return gift—two packets of pastries from Xuzhou, said to be from the Xu family’s caravan.”

“No matter what,” she said with satisfaction, “the acquaintance is made. And since Madam Ma introduced me to Madam Liao, she too must receive a token gift. Which means our stock of Huai Jiang specialties is running low. Later, I’ll write a letter to Mother and ask her to send more.”

Tang Mo gave her a thumbs-up. “The illustrious Miss Xin, now the Second Young Madam of the Tang family—truly formidable. My greatest fortune indeed.”

“Don’t just send a letter,” he added. “Tomorrow I’ll purchase some local gifts from the capital as well. We’ll send them along together—it’ll please Father-in-law and Mother-in-law.”

Xin An returned the gesture. “Second Young Master Tang is remarkably thoughtful.”

She laughed freely, delighted by his praise. Nothing spurred her more than being appreciated for her efforts.

Tang Mo, equally pleased, said, “Everyone’s been admiring my new robes lately. Next time I’ll host a banquet and invite them all with their wives. You can meet the ladies yourself. With your charm, I’m sure within three months you’ll be gliding through the capital’s social circles like a fish in water.”

“And I’ll bask in your reflected glory.”

Xin An, naturally, did not refuse. The more friends, the smoother the road. Even superficial acquaintances were better than none at all. “There’s one more thing,” she said.

She turned to the drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to Tang Mo. “I made this list today—it includes the people Tang Rong once tried to win over. You know I’m not familiar with outside matters, but I remember some of those around him. Whether you can win them over now depends on your ability.”

“These here,” she added, tapping a few names, “are the ones you must avoid—people whose connections ended badly in my past life.”

Tang Mo read the list, his expression gradually darkening. When he finally looked up, his eyes were complicated. “If I can’t surpass the man next door even with this knowledge, then I truly am useless.”

Xin An gave no answer. If the two of us working together still can’t outdo that beast next door, then that would indeed be shameful.

Meanwhile, in Spring Blossom Courtyard, Tao Yiran sat at the edge of her bed, crying bitterly as though she had suffered a world of injustice. The Countess of Changning’s words that afternoon had been nothing short of vicious—utterly stripping the Marquis’s residence of face, and trampling the Tao family’s name into the dust. She had stopped just short of calling Tao Yiran a courtesan from the pleasure quarters.

After such humiliation, Tao Yiran had expected Tang Rong to at least offer comfort for the sake of their marriage.

Yet now, the heir of the Marquis of Wei Yuan sat with a face as dark as ink.

Tang Rong had been his father’s pride since childhood, expected to carry the Tang name to glory. He had not disappointed—ever since he first began his studies, he had worked tirelessly. Though not claiming mastery in both civil and martial arts, he was undoubtedly among the best of the capital’s young men, widely praised for his excellence.

His life had been smooth—until marriage. A merchant’s daughter was, after all, unworthy of his station. Yet that was not something he could change. Opportunities, however, often arrived unannounced.

On the day of his wedding, the moment he stepped into the bridal courtyard, he sensed something amiss. When he entered the bridal chamber, he realized the bride had been switched. He hesitated only briefly before deciding to go along with it. After all, both the Tao family and Tao Yiran far outshone the Xin family and Xin An.

At a minimal cost, he had gained a wife who pleased him. He thought his life would only get smoother—with a father-in-law to aid his career and a gifted, graceful wife at home. Who could have foreseen…

Now he was filled with regret, helplessness, humiliation, and rage. The affection in his gaze toward Tao Yiran had entirely vanished.

Tao Yiran wept still. “I didn’t choose where I was born. Even within my own household, few know my grandmother’s true origins—and she’s hardly left home in years. Why must they fixate on her birth?”

Seeing Tang Rong remain cold and unresponsive, panic began to stir within her. Then she recalled her grandmother’s teachings, and her mother’s repeated instructions earlier that day. Slowly, she composed herself.

She rose, walked over, and knelt before him, resting her hands on his knees. Lifting her chin to reveal the pale curve of her neck, a tear rolled down her cheek. “Rong-lang,” she murmured softly, “are you… regretting it?”

“Have I brought you shame?”

Tang Rong met her gaze. There was no denying Tao Yiran’s beauty—fragile, luminous, as though she might shatter at any moment. His heart wavered for an instant, but anger quickly returned. The disgrace her family had brought upon him was unbearable.

She clasped his hand and continued, tears brimming, a faint smile touching her lips. “At that spring’s Peach Blossom Banquet, when I first saw you, I could not help but think—what a blessing it would be to marry such a man: upright as pine and cypress, pure and gentle as a mountain spring.

“I prayed to the Bodhisattva day and night, yet when I heard you already had a fiancée, my heart turned to ashes. I thought then—if I cannot marry you, it matters not whom I marry. But Heaven took pity on me. When my bridal veil was lifted and I saw you before me, I was overjoyed—and terrified it was but a dream.”

The sun rose in the east; birds chirped among the branches.
After a restful night’s sleep, Xin An was in the courtyard feeding her goldfish. Rouqiu was chasing a ball of yarn around, tail wagging like a banner of joy.

Chunyang came forward to report, “Young Madam, someone from Madam’s quarters said you needn’t go over today. Madam Tao has arrived.”

The two women had arranged to discuss the Marquis’s plan to provide aid to retired soldiers that morning. Since the meeting was off, Xin An wasn’t concerned. Madame Tao’s visit came as no surprise either.

At this point, Xin An still knew nothing of what had happened. She thought only that Tao Yiran’s playing the zither publicly had been improper, yes, but hardly a grave offense—perhaps it had drawn some gossip, but nothing that couldn’t blow over.
She could not have known that the Countess of Changning had ripped away the Tao family’s last scrap of dignity, turning a small misstep into a catastrophe.

“Is Grandmother in Chunrong Hall?”

Chunyang replied, “The Old Madam said she was meeting her old friends to hear the opera again. She’s already gone out.”

“Didn’t she just go yesterday?”

Chunyang wisely said nothing. Xin An only smiled, brushing the last fish food from her hands. “In that case, today will be a day of rest.”

“Go invite Physician Zhao to come. Tell her I’d like a facial mask and a shoulder massage.”

She had once seen the woman tend to the Old Madam’s shoulders with some fragrant floral oil. The scent had been soothing, and the Old Madam swore that afterward her whole body felt relaxed, her skin soft and smooth.

“And bring the dye for my nails as well,” Xin An added cheerfully.

These were indulgences she had never experienced in her past life; she intended to enjoy them all now. She still remembered how the Second Princess’s nails had gleamed with a perfect tint—she’d been meaning to find out where that polish came from.

“Fetch Auntie Wang too,” she said. “I have some gifts to send out.”

Meanwhile, in the front hall, Madame Tao was weeping before Wang Shi. Steward Zhang had gone to the Tao household at dawn, and the moment Master and Madame Tao heard the news, it felt as though the sky had fallen. Their long-buried secret—exposed for all to see. The veil of respectability was gone.

They had immediately sent a calling card to the Countess of Changning’s residence, adding fifty percent more to the already generous gifts they had prepared. Then, desperate for details, Madame Tao had hurried straight to the Marquis’s household.

Wang Shi spoke with calm precision:
“The Countess of Changning, overcome with motherly concern, said both what she should and what she should not. She made it clear she will not let the matter rest. Only the Tao family can hope to appease her anger now. If possible, bring your eldest daughter-in-law in person to show sincerity.”

“But you may rest assured,” Wang Shi added mildly, “only the Marquis and I know of this within our household. After all, it touches upon our own family’s honor as well.”

Her meaning was plain: the Marquis’s family would not intervene—and she wasn’t lying. Wang Shi had no intention of involving Tang Mo and Xin An in such sordid business. Some things, a mother must handle herself. She would not let the younger couple, still rash and unseasoned, act recklessly and worsen the situation.

“Dear in-law, I…”
Madame Tao faltered, unsure how to reclaim a shred of dignity. Finally, she sighed deeply. “For the sake of our children’s union, I beg the Marquis’s household to extend a hand.”

Wang Shi’s lips curved in a faint, cool smile. “Madame Tao, I truly sympathize with you. But when children marry, it is a union of families—and families think first of their own interests. To speak frankly, this incident is not catastrophic for the Marquis’s household.”

Before Madame Tao could grasp the meaning, Wang Shi continued, “Strictly speaking, your daughter’s marriage into our house was never entirely proper in the eyes of society. However you dress it up, it is only to deceive oneself. You saw the expressions of the ladies at the Shuihua Banquet—surely you know what they thought.”

“The Tao family’s situation is a hidden peril. My Marquisate was hard-won; our reputation cannot be tarnished. I trust Master Tao will handle matters wisely.”

“And that,” she added pointedly, “is also my lord husband’s opinion.”

They had plotted against her son and daughter-in-law, and still had the gall to ask for help. Wang Shi thought grimly that it was already mercy enough she didn’t add insult to injury.

At the Tao residence, Master and Madame Tao had discussed it over and decided that the Marquis’s household must step forward. Like it or not, the two families were bound together now; their fortunes rose and fell as one. Surely the Marquis would not abandon them.

They had misjudged. The Marquis’s family had already withdrawn their hands. The discovery crushed Madame Tao’s spirit—if the truth spread and the Marquis’s household turned its back, the Tao family would never again stand in the capital.

Even if they had the nerve to remain, how could they ever show their faces again?

Wang Shi lifted her teacup and said serenely, “Madame Tao, you had best act quickly. The sooner, the better.”

Madame Tao rose, saying she had already prepared more gifts. She would bring Tao Yiran at once to the Countess’s residence and beg forgiveness.

That morning, Tao Yiran had actually woken early for once, speaking of paying respects to her elders—but both the Old Madam and Wang Shi were occupied, and the formal greetings were excused.

In her own courtyard, she busied herself with trifles—writing calling cards to old acquaintances, selecting fabrics, even planning to make new robes for Tang Rong. It was the first time since her marriage that she had shown such diligence.

Nanny Liu showered her with praise, flattering her endlessly. When Madame Tao arrived, she smiled brightly, only for her face to freeze as Madame Tao swept in, called Tao Yiran into the room, and dismissed every servant—including Nanny Liu herself.

A stick of incense later, Tao Yiran emerged with reddened eyes and followed her mother out, carrying several small chests. Chunlü tried to inquire but learned nothing. Since Physician Zhao was visiting, she decided not to disturb Xin An.

“What is Second Young Madam doing?” Wang Shi asked later, still faintly uneasy. She feared Tang Mo and Xin An’s temperaments—too straightforward, too unguarded—and worried they might have caught wind of the situation.

A maid replied, “Second Young Madam invited Physician Zhao to dye her nails.”

Wang Shi chuckled. “Liking beauty is no fault.”

The attending matron smiled. “Anyone can see our Second Young Madam enjoys dressing up. When she looks so pretty, even we feel cheerful just seeing her.”

Wang Shi remembered the set of velvet flower ornaments in the storeroom. “Fetch them and have them delivered to her.”

That day, Xin An was completely relaxed. After sending Auntie Wang out on two errands, she let Physician Zhao pamper her with masks and massage. She had both her fingernails and toenails dyed, the whole process taking half a day. When it was done, she examined her rosy nails with satisfaction.

“Physician Zhao, could you come every half-month to do this for me?”

The maids could apply nail dye too, but none achieved the vivid, even color of Physician Zhao.

A steady, generous patron was a blessing, and Physician Zhao gladly agreed. “The Young Madam’s skin is naturally excellent—only a little sun-touched. The midday heat harms the complexion; you should avoid too much sun.”

“I’ll be more careful,” Xin An agreed lightly—it was, after all, the result of yesterday’s cuju match. “You’re free this afternoon, yes?”

“I am. Does the Young Madam have more instructions?”

Xin An tilted her head. “Qingyang, go ask Mother if she’d like to have her nails done or perhaps a facial.”

Qingyang hurried off and soon returned—with Wang Shi herself.

Seeing Xin An, her face freshly treated and glowing, her nails glossy and neat, Wang Shi smiled. “I wanted to try when your grandmother did, but never found the time. Since I’m free this afternoon, I’ll have Physician Zhao give me a treatment too.”

After calming herself, Wang Shi reviewed the facts and suddenly everything about Tao Yiran’s mannerisms fell into place. She truly was the legitimate daughter of an official house—but raised under the influence of an elder of disgraceful origins, taught the arts of flattering and ensnaring men.

Tang Gang paced the floor with his hands clasped behind his back, still unwilling to believe the Old Madam of the Tao household could have such a background. He clung to a thread of hope. Wang Shi sat beside him and gave him no room for that hope. She said plainly, “What well-bred new bride would summon her husband away from a public occasion because of a little discomfort? Summon him away—how would that cure an illness?”

“When fainting and palpitations become a habit—now a headache, now chest pain—aren’t those the very tricks of vying for favor? The Marquis should not be ignorant of such arts.”

Stung by her mockery, Tang Gang halted and looked at her, unable to protest. A black cloud seemed to settle over him. This… he sighed. Now that matters had reached this point, there was little left but to accept it. He knew the Countess of Changning would not speak so recklessly if there were no truth to it.  “How come you didn’t find out about this before? If you had known…”

At such a time he still sought to shift responsibility. Wang Shi would not let him off. She scoffed: “Do you suppose I, a woman of the inner household, could easily pry out such secrets? Are you not the one always traveling in court, with countless acquaintances—yet none had the kindness to tell you?”

She added, “And one more thing—you say she once attempted the Second Prince and was rebuked by the Second Princess. Think on that as well.”

Tang Gang could offer no reply. Wang Shi continued her barbs. “Now the matter has come to light; once it’s known to be filth, you must swallow it down. It’s nauseating—yet you’ll have to plaster a smile and pretend it tastes sweet. If only we had let her keep pretending to be ill; it would have spared her the public disgrace.”

“The Countess of Changning is hard to deal with and holds grudges. I do not know whether she might spread this tale further.”

A dark satisfaction crept into Wang Shi’s mind. The proud families of rank cared most for face. They demanded much of a chief daughter-in-law, who would one day preside as mistress of the household. For people of less illustrious birth—those who made connections in society could easily run into brick walls. The true elite barely deigned to notice them. If Tao Yiran’s lowborn origins were made public, who could say how completely she might be ostracized?

She longed to see how Tang Gang would manage to smooth over the scandal for his fine son—once the rumor spread, Tang Rong would be covered in filth, scrubbed or no.

Tang Gang felt as though he had already swallowed excrement. He pictured the mocking laughter of his colleagues once the truth leaked. The Tang family had never possessed deep roots; to be publicly linked with such a household would be a blow to their standing.

“Send someone to the Tao household again tomorrow,” he said. “Tell them you learned some inside matters today at the Countess of Changning’s and that you are shocked and gravely worried. If the rumor spreads widely, it will harm both households. Ask them to soothe the Countess.”

He hesitated, then decided, “I’ll have Steward Zhang go in person.”

Why should his marquisate be left to clean up the Taos’ mess? If the Tao family could not contain it, he could simply replace his daughter-in-law. His son, a figure of refined virtue, should wed a girl from a prominent family—one befitting their station. There were no old-match constraints from the late Lord to bind him this time.

Once the thought took hold, he could not suppress it. His anger drained away and his mind filled with plans to find a new daughter-in-law.

“See to it.” He would not sleep. He called for a maid standing watch; before she could answer, Tang Gang spoke: “Go and see whether the heir has returned. Tell him to come to the study.”

Wang Shi watched his face—there was a flash of resolve. Curious, she asked, “Have you decided on a course of action?”

He did not reply. Throwing on a coat, he prepared to leave. “Wife, you should rest. There’s no need to wait up.”

At the door he paused, turned, and added, “Do not tell my mother. I’d spare her the worry.”

Then he went out. Wang Shi was uneasy and could not sleep. She summoned a trusted attendant and whispered a few words; only then did she let Tang Gang depart.

That night Tang Rong came home reeking of wine. He lodged in Aunt Yue’s room at Spring Splendor Courtyard. When Tang Gang’s men sent for him, he was still lingering there—he came out slowly, and his mood was already sour. When Tang Gang laid the truth before him, Tang Rong felt as if he had been struck by five thunderbolts.

He had been to pleasure houses before and had shown courtesy to the women there, even praised some of their talents. But admiration confined to the pleasure quarter was one thing; bringing such a woman back to the family was unthinkable. He was to be the next Marquis of Wei Yuan—his reputation could not be tarnished for a moment.

Now his father told him that the wife he had painstakingly won had elders who had earned their living in such ways and had personally taught her; worse, she had once entangled the Second Prince.

“Father—surely there is a mistake?” Tang Rong’s gut turned to bile.

Tang Gang understood his son’s shock. “Even if your mother dislikes you, she would not invent such lies. The Countess of Changning would not fabricate this. Tomorrow I will have someone discreetly verify it. But whether true or false, you must treat it as a matter to be dealt with.”

“Words once cast into the world harden like metal. Once filth has been splashed on a person, it does not wash away.”

“You must now decide how to handle this.”

Tang Rong could not think of any handling—only of collapse. If the rumor leaked he would be the capital’s laughingstock. No wonder the Second Prince had looked at him as he did at the En Guo Duke’s—he must have thought Tang Rong a joke.

And Tang Mo—if his mother knew, Tang Mo would surely learn too.

Tang Gang sighed. “Now that things have reached this stage, the Tao daughter remaining at your side is a time bomb. Sooner or later it will explode. It’s a pity.”

We should never have had the doctor called in to confirm her weakness and then sent the news to the Tao household—thus affirming her frailty. It would have been better had she remained quietly ill and never left the courtyard.

But the opportunity was lost; there was no turning back.

“You are the heir to the Wei Yuan marquisate; your future depends on a wife of a household that can help you rise. Our family’s crest was earned by your grandfather’s military merit; it cannot suffer tarnish. Think carefully on this matter.”

Tang Rong raised his eyes—an expression of calm blankness—and then lowered them again. For a long time the study fell silent; father and son sat without a word.

Before long Wang Shi learned the gist of their private talk. She nodded as if nothing had happened, then retired to bed. Nearly twenty years of marriage had left her with little idea that the man who seemed so placid could be so ruthless beneath the surface.

For the sake of his eldest son, he was prepared to take extreme measures. Who could say he lacked resolve?
Indeed—it was a parent’s fierce love for her child.

Compared to Tang Gang’s lonely evening at home, Wang Shi was in high spirits.
The cuju match had been thrilling to watch, the tavern’s dishes were delicious, and—best of all—she was surrounded by her son, daughter-in-law, and her maiden family. The comfort and joy of that simple togetherness were beyond words. Normally she drank little, but tonight she even had two cups of wine.

After the meal, Tang Mo suggested they stroll through the night market. Since they were already out and enjoying themselves, the Wangs readily agreed. Laughing and chatting, they walked down the bustling streets.

Wang Shi’s nephew, Wang Shi, had been holding back for a long while before finally blurting out, “Cousin Tang, could you lend me a few books to read?”

He knew the Marquis’s household possessed an impressive collection, but had never dared to ask before—fearing it might trouble his aunt. Besides, the old Tang Mo had always been overly polite and distant toward them, which made such requests awkward.

“If it’s inconvenient, pretend I never mentioned it.”

Tang Mo blinked, then smiled. “That’s my fault for not thinking of it sooner. The household collection is vast, yet I’m no scholar myself. You, cousin, are gifted. With diligence, you’ll surely earn a name on the examination rolls one day.”

“I’ll have some books sent to you tomorrow. Just one condition—those volumes were part of my late grandfather’s collection. Handle them with care. Once you’re done, return them through my servants, and I’ll send you more.”

Wang Shi’s face lit up with joy. He cupped his hands respectfully. “Thank you, cousin!”

“We’re brothers,” Tang Mo said with a smile. “No need for thanks.”

“You silly boy,” Wang Shi scolded lightly. “Why didn’t you say something sooner if you wanted to borrow books?”

“It only came to me today,” Wang Tu added. “I’ve read most of what’s on the market already. A noble household must have rarer works, so I thought to ask while we were here.”

“In future,” Wang Shi said warmly, “if there’s anything you need, come to your aunt. If I don’t have it, your cousin will help find it.”

She had always taken a special interest in this nephew.

“Cousin-in-law,” Wang Bao’er piped up suddenly, “is your family very rich?”

Xin An laughed. “Why do you ask that?”

“You’ve given me so many gifts!”

Xin An had grown up in wealth and was generous by nature. She never fretted over prices—if she liked something, she bought it. Wang Bao’er was sweet and well-behaved, and Xin An, delighted by her, had bought her many small trinkets—though in Xin An’s eyes, none of them were worth much.

“My family runs business,” she explained with a smile. “We’re a little better off than most.”

Wang Bao’er grinned. “Then may I visit you at the Marquis’s residence?”

“Of course you may.”

Xin An took her hand. “You’re always welcome there.”

Hearing this, Wang Shi turned to Madame Wang and said that when the weather cooled, she would invite Bao’er to stay for a while at the Marquis’s household. The girl was only ten—too young for marriage talks yet—but it was never too soon to raise her profile. Staying at the Marquis’s estate would elevate her standing.

Madame Wang, however, shook her head. “There’s no rush. For our family to prosper, we must rely on Bao’er’s two elder brothers. You have enough burdens in the Marquis’s residence. Let the girl visit often, but there’s no need for her to stay.”

The Wang family, unaware of the true reason behind the marriage swap, believed that Wang Shi and her son had been mistreated. Wang Mian, angry but powerless due to the family’s weaker standing, placed his hopes on his sons instead. He also reminded them not to trouble their aunt—being a jishi (second/successor wife) was difficult enough without a troublesome maiden family making things worse.

Wang Shi did not press the matter, though her heart stung with quiet bitterness.

After the night market stroll, the families said their farewells. Wang Bao’er was reluctant to part, clutching the small trinkets Xin An had bought her as she climbed into the carriage. Wang Mian laughed and exchanged a few friendly words with Tang Mo before urging him to take his mother home, lest Tang Gang grow displeased at their late return.

When Wang Shi returned to the Marquis’s residence and learned that Tang Gang had waited for her all evening, she dismissed Tang Mo and Xin An to rest—she and her husband had much to discuss tonight.

“Isn’t it strange,” Tang Mo mused when they entered their chambers, “how people change? Before I had my duties, I found the days endless—nothing to do, time dragging on. But now it feels as though the days vanish in the blink of an eye.”

Xin An nodded, smiling faintly. “That’s because life feels lighter when you have something to do.”

“Come, let’s talk about yesterday’s banquet.”

Since the Shuihua Banquet ended, the two of them had not yet compared notes—a discussion long overdue.

After washing up, they sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, each with a fan in hand, quietly exchanging what they’d learned and planning their next steps.

“You’re really planning to send word to father-in-law?”

Tang Mo wasn’t surprised that the Xu family wanted to buy sugar—only that they had approached the Xin family about it.

“I think there’s more to this,” Xin An said thoughtfully. “If I write to Father, I’ll feel more at ease.”

Xin An paused. “But you should also consider hiring an adviser. These matters are getting too complex—neither of us can foresee every angle.”

“An adviser? For me?” Tang Mo asked, half amused, half intrigued.

“Even if I wanted one,” he said, “I doubt I could find anyone willing.”

Xin An grew serious. “What we’re trying to achieve isn’t easy. I’m just a woman of the inner court—my upbringing and experience don’t prepare me for schemes of this scale. But you—are you so much better? Do you have that kind of foresight?”

Tang Mo was struck speechless.

“I’ve been thinking about this these past two days,” Xin An continued. “There’s no shame in recognizing one’s own limits. The man next door may not yet realize your potential threat, but if he ever decides to crush you, you might not stand a chance.”

“But,” she added with a spark in her eyes, “you can hire help.”

Tang Mo raised an eyebrow. “From the way you’re talking, you already have someone in mind?”

“Of course,” Xin An said confidently.

She was referring to a man who, in her previous life, had served under Tang Rong—a fallen scholar named Luo Qiwen. After moving into the Marquis’s residence, Xin An had personally managed his living stipends and thus knew his background well.

“He should be studying now at Wangping Academy in the western part of the city. His family once prospered—they still own a small house there. He lives with his elderly mother and younger brother. Later, after misfortune struck, they had to sell their ancestral home. But the man is clever. Tang Rong’s smooth inheritance of the title and later success in court owed much to him.”

“Later, thanks to Tang Rong’s recommendation, he earned official rank. If you act now, you could intercept him.”

She winked. “We may lack extraordinary wisdom, but we have something better—money. We can buy his wisdom.”

Tang Mo’s face lit up. He gave her a thumbs-up. “I knew it—you’re my lucky star.”

Xin An lifted her chin proudly. “If you can secure his service, we’ll both have a much easier road ahead.”

“Oh—and the savings I kept for you are nearly gone,” she added pointedly. “I put more silver in your drawer.”

She gave him a mock-disdainful glance. “Honestly—you’ve saved almost nothing, yet you have the reputation of a man who loves to compete. A name without substance.”

Tang Mo laughed sheepishly. It was true—he wasn’t exactly wealthy. “I still have a few antiques and paintings, though—not entirely destitute.”

Outside, the moon hung bright and stars glittered faintly. In another courtyard, light still burned in Tang Gang and Wang Shi’s chambers. Wang Shi had no intention of keeping her new discovery to herself—Tang Gang needed to hear the truth about the family he had chosen for their son.

“What did you just say?”

Tang Gang could hardly believe his ears. His first reaction was to suspect Wang Shi of exaggeration—after all, he couldn’t exactly go to the Tao family and ask. Then suspicion turned toward the Countess of Changning: perhaps she had fabricated the whole story in malice.

But Wang Shi only lifted her gaze and said coldly, “Then tell me—doesn’t that woman behave exactly like a concubine?”

The menu alone listed several varieties of chilled desserts. Tang Mo declared that since it was a rare outing, everyone should choose whatever they liked.
Wang Mian, who usually frequented nothing more than teahouses and taverns, found the novelty delightful and ordered an iced sweet and a serving of chilled spiced fruit.

Xin An selected Rainbow Crisp, said to be made from cow’s milk and to melt the instant it touched one’s tongue—something she had never tried before.

Wang Bao’er ordered the same, clearly fond of her sister-in-law despite their short acquaintance.

As the waiter went off to prepare their choices, the group had exchanged only a few lines of conversation before noise rose from below. Looking down, they saw that the cuju teams were entering the field.
Xin An peered closely. “That team in blue—isn’t that the Huntian Yuan squad we saw last time?”

Tang Mo nodded. Wang Shi added that he knew of them. “They’re said to be formidable—ranked among the top three cuju teams in the capital. Many of their players are retired soldiers.”

Excitement began to stir.

“I’ve heard of them too,” said Wang Mian, noticing a crowd forming at one corner of the field. “What are they doing over there?”

“Placing bets,” came the reply.

Tang Mo raised an eyebrow. “Shall we place a small wager?”

But everyone reacted at once, shaking their heads—clearly not wishing to be associated with gambling. Tang Mo and Xin An exchanged a glance: both wanted to, but under the eyes of their elders, they had to maintain the appearance of propriety.
Before either could speak, Wang Shi asked sharply, “You’ve never gambled here before, have you?”

“No,” Tang Mo said firmly. “Would I be that kind of man? I’m just here to watch, not to wager.”

Wang Shi nodded, satisfied. Tang Mo smiled wryly, thinking to himself that he should come to such places less often with his elders—it was far too easy to reveal his true nature.

The gong sounded, marking the start of the match. All eyes turned to the field. Before long, the young men—including Tang Mo—were cheering with excitement. Even Wang Mian, usually mild, couldn’t help sighing, clapping, and shouting with the crowd.

Xin An wanted to let out her excitement as well, but with her mother-in-law and aunt watching, she forced herself to remain a picture of calm grace—only her bright, sparkling eyes betrayed her delight.

Their chilled desserts arrived soon after. The dish of Rainbow Crisp was beautifully presented; Xin An took a bite of the petal-garnished confection, and her eyes lit up. “Mm, this is delicious! The new shopkeeper has skill—something cool like this in such heat is wonderful.”

Smart and good at business, she thought approvingly. Very clever indeed.

Wang Bao’er tasted hers and gasped in delight, even feeding her mother a spoonful. “It’s so good!”

Madame Wang smiled faintly. “A few bites are fine, but don’t eat too much cold food.”

On the field, the cuju players were soon drenched in sweat, yet moved as if they had endless strength. The competition grew fierce; the stands were a storm of cheers, shouts, and even bursts of jeering—all sounds melding together in a wild symphony that shook every listener’s chest.

Only then did those enjoying cold treats truly understand what Xin An meant when she said, “It feels like the top of my head’s about to fly off!”

The women managed to stay seated, but the men—led by Wang Mian—had long since abandoned composure. They neither drank their chilled drinks nor sat still, but stood and shouted with full lungs, cheering one moment, groaning the next. Even Madame Wang clenched her handkerchief, her face tense with excitement.

Tang Mo sighed quietly—it was a pity they hadn’t placed a bet. It would have made the game even more thrilling.

Wang Shi, however, was all smiles. Being surrounded by her family lightened her heart immeasurably. But while she relaxed, Madame Tao was so troubled she could have crushed a fly between her furrowed brows.

That morning’s humiliation from the Marquis’s household had left her no choice but to pay a personal visit. When she heard Wang Shi had gone to the Countess of Changning’s residence, she understood at once what that meant—and her heart sank. Facing Tao Yiran now, she no longer knew what to say.

Tao Yiran could no longer justify lying abed. Half-reclined on a beauty couch, she stared blankly out the window, the picture of melancholy. At length, Madame Tao spoke:

“Your mother-in-law went to the Countess of Changning to apologize for your reckless behavior. I won’t harp on past matters—but you must think carefully about the road ahead.”

“Those low tricks your grandmother taught you—best not to use them anymore.”

“The family has suffered because of you. Your younger siblings’ marriages will now meet obstacles. Did you ever speak with your uncle about the proposal I mentioned? If it could be arranged, it might stabilize your second uncle’s branch for the time being.”

She rose slowly, continuing, “Your path in the Marquis’s household depends on yourself. No one in the Tao family can help you now.”

She had planned to offer comfort, but after a month of endless lecturing, she was too weary to repeat herself. Seeing Tao Yiran’s lifeless, half-dead demeanor only stoked her anger. “I still need to prepare a fine gift to send to the Countess of Changning’s estate. That woman is difficult to please. If you meet her again, mind your words.”

As she turned to leave, Tao Yiran looked up, eyes rimmed red. A tear slid down her cheek. “Mother… are you abandoning me?”

Madame Tao’s anger flared. “Enough of those worthless tears! If you have time to cry, use it to think!”

“You’ve real talent for causing trouble. How long have you been married? And already you’ve stirred up so much! Addicted to feigning illness, are you? If you must act, act to the end—why show off instead? Do you know what people say about you? Your grandmother—”

She lowered her voice. “Your grandmother’s affairs are well known throughout the capital. People may not say it aloud, but you can be sure they sneer behind your back. Do you mean to drag the entire Tao family down with you?”

Tao Yiran was not her only child. When a daughter could no longer bring honor or benefit to the family, a mother’s duty was to think of her other sons and grandsons. The Tao family did not revolve around Tao Yiran alone.

“I tell you this—paper cannot contain fire, secrets can’t stay hidden forever. The only thing left for you is to hold tightly to Tang Rong. Remember what it means to be the legitimate wife. Your one duty now is to bear the heir as soon as possible.”

With that, she turned and left. She feared what the Countess of Changning might say or do if she revealed the Tao family’s secrets—she had to hurry back to prepare.

Tao Yiran’s tears flowed harder, as though she meant to weep herself to death. Nanny Liu could only sigh helplessly. Tang Rong, who should have been home on his day of rest, had gone out without even taking lunch—his attitude said everything.

As for the new hairpin in her hair, Aunt Yue knew the story, but she kept silent.

At dusk, Tang Gang emerged from his study, feeling that the household was unusually quiet. “Has my wife not returned?”

“Not yet,” replied Steward Zhang, pity flickering briefly in his eyes. “Madame sent word—she’s dining out with Second Young Master and Second Young Madam.”

“The Old Madam has just returned from the opera.”

Tang Gang’s brows drew tight. A sense of being left out crept over him. “Where’s the heir?”

“Gone out as well, not yet back.”

Tang Gang took a few steps, then stopped, standing in the courtyard as a chill seeped through him.

“Shall I have dinner prepared, my lord?” the steward asked carefully.

Tang Gang exhaled a long breath. “No. I’ll go see the Old Madam first.”

Steward Zhang watched him go, thinking to himself with faint amusement, Loneliness makes a man seek out his mother. How very predictable.

The Wang family lived in the eastern part of the capital. Their estate was not large, and the current head of the household was Wang Shi’s elder brother. Since their parents had long passed away and there were few siblings, the family was rather small.

The eldest son, Wang Shi¹, was a scholar—diligent and devoted to his books. He spent his days reading with his younger brother and sister, hoping one day to bring honor to the family name.

The Wang residence was usually peaceful, but today it was livelier than usual. Laughter and conversation could be heard even from the gates. When Wang Shi arrived, she found it strange and asked the gatekeeper,
“Do we have guests today?”

The old steward smiled. “The young master from the Tang family came with his wife. They’re inside, talking with the master and the young masters.”

“Please, come inside, Madam.”

A smile flickered in Wang Shi’s eyes. “How long have they been here?”

“For a while now. The young master said he wanted to bring his wife to get acquainted with the family.”

The steward seemed delighted—the residence hadn’t been this cheerful in quite some time.

Inside the main hall, Tang Mo was chatting and laughing with his uncle about cuju.
“Let’s all go together later—it’s very lively. I’ve already reserved seats.”

Wang Mian waved a hand with a chuckle. “You young people go. It wouldn’t be proper for us.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Tang Mo replied lightly. “The more the merrier! And I’ve already booked a private room for dinner. We’ll eat afterward and come back—it won’t take too much time.”

He hadn’t come to see his uncle on a whim, nor to curry favor. It was simply that they had few close relatives, and he thought it right to visit often and keep their bond strong.

The three younger members of the Wang family perked up immediately at his suggestion. They hadn’t gone out for fun in ages, and at their age, such invitations were irresistible.

Wang Mian still hesitated, but then Wang Shi entered, smiling.
“Just agree to it. I’ll come along too—it’ll be a nice outing.”

Everyone turned to greet her at once. “Eldest Sister!” “Aunt!”
Tang Mo blinked in surprise. “Mother, you came to Uncle’s house today?”

Wang Shi smiled. “I left the Marquis’s residence early and thought it’s been far too long since I last visited your uncle, so I came by.”

“What a coincidence, then.”

Tang Mo laughed. “We had lunch outside and planned to admire the lotus flowers, but the sun was too fierce. So we decided to stop by Uncle’s instead—and let Xin An meet everyone properly.”

Wang Shi gave him a half-reproving look. “You claim to be thoughtful, yet you handled this poorly. If you meant to introduce your wife to your uncle and aunt, you should have sent word in advance and come formally. How can you just arrive unannounced like this?”

Wang Mian quickly intervened. “That only shows how at ease Mo’er feels with us. When family comes home, they don’t need to send word or bring a visiting card, do they?”

“Exactly! You’re being too formal,” Madam Wang added with a laugh. “We’re delighted that Mo’er brought his wife—don’t scold him.”

Still, Tang Mo took his mother’s words to heart. He bowed slightly. “Mother is right. I should have brought Xin An sooner, and in a more proper manner. It was thoughtless of me.”

“See?” Wang Mian turned helplessly to Wang Shi. “Eldest Sister, you’re being too stiff. This is his uncle’s home—he can come anytime. Saying things like that only makes you seem distant.”

Wang Shi sighed with a smile. “Fine, indulge him as you always do.”

“I only have this one nephew,” Wang Mian replied cheerfully. “If I don’t indulge him, who will?”

Wang Shi raised an eyebrow. “Then your dear nephew is inviting you to watch cuju and have dinner. Are you going or not?”

“Going, of course! Who said we weren’t?”

Everyone laughed. Even the usually composed Wang Shi, who had yet to become an official scholar, looked pleased. His younger brother Wang Tu, twelve years old and lively by nature, finally shed his usual stiffness from too much studying, while ten-year-old Wang Bao’er stood sweetly nearby—her dimples showing as she smiled, utterly charming.

There was still some time before the cuju match began, so everyone stayed chatting. The cheerful atmosphere made it impossible for anyone to feel unhappy.

Xin An sat beside Tang Mo, listening quietly. Whenever the conversation turned to her, she would answer with a few polite words. Madam Wang leaned close to Wang Shi, whispering something before both of them turned to smile at Xin An.

Xin An could only sigh inwardly. Discussing me right in front of me, are they?
It would probably take another year or two before everyone grew tired of treating her like the subject of curiosity.

Fortunately, her skin was thick enough now.

“I think it’s almost time. Why don’t we all get ready to head out?” Tang Mo finally suggested—after all, he had arranged the outing and had to see it through. The group chatted and laughed a bit more before dispersing to prepare.

The cuju field was the same one Tang Mo had brought Xin An to before, but this time there were more shaded pavilions. The private boxes now came with ice basins, chilled drinks, and refreshing mountain pastries—for those willing to pay.

When the group arrived, they weren’t particularly impressed—until they stepped inside their private box. Tang Mo immediately took charge of the arrangements, and just as the ice basins were brought in, the match was about to begin. The stands were already full; the audience waved fans, held water flasks, and chatted loudly.

Their box had an excellent view—spacious, comfortable, and offering free refreshments and team information. The service was impeccable.

“My heavens,” Wang Shi began to remark, then shook her head with a laugh. “No, I’ve never seen so many people in one place.”

Xin An smiled. “Aunt will soon know what bustle truly means. The first time I came, the noise nearly lifted the top of my head—it made my heart race.”

Little Wang Bao’er’s eyes widened. “And then?”

“And then,” Xin An said with a grin, “I joined in the noise.”

Wang Bao’er giggled so hard her eyes turned into crescents. Wang Shi remarked that their academy had also held cuju matches, but never with such crowds. “I’ve heard this field is huge and lively, but I’ve never actually been.”

“Me neither,” Wang Tu chimed in. “I just study all day. It’s a real loss.”

Tang Mo set down the booklet in his hands. “It’s good to come here and relax once in a while. Especially when you’re frustrated or stuck on something—come, cheer for the ball, and I guarantee your mind will be clear the next day.”

Wang Shi chuckled. “Wouldn’t all that noise make one dizzy instead?”

“Not dizzy,” Tang Mo replied easily. “Two words—stress relief.”

“It’s hard to explain,” he added, smiling. “You’ll understand once you experience it.”

Just then, a server came in holding a menu. “Would the guests like some chilled drinks?”

Tang Mo glanced over it. “Has the owner changed? These weren’t here last time.”

The server grinned. “Sharp eyes, young master. The owner’s the same, but there’s a new steward who wanted our honored guests to enjoy more comfort while watching the game.”

“I see,” Tang Mo said with a nod.

1. The names “Wang Shi (王氏)” and “Wang Shi (王仕)” refer to different individuals and use different Chinese characters. The first, 王氏, employs the suffix 氏, a traditional marker indicating a married woman’s maiden surname—in this case, the Marchioness of Wei Yuan, born of the Wang family. The second, 王仕, uses the character 仕, meaning “to serve as an official,” and is a masculine given name belonging to Wang Shi’s nephew, the eldest son of her elder brother. ↩︎

Wang Shi could scarcely keep her composure. She did not favor Tao Yiran, true—but the girl had already entered the Marquis’s gates. For the Countess of Changning to show no mercy at all was to slight the Marquis’s residence itself.

Seeing Wang Shi’s face darken, the Countess had no mind to smooth things over. “Madame Tang, I speak plainly. You may not like what you hear, but your eye for choosing a daughter-in-law is truly… lacking.”

Wang Shi, half-distracted yet stung to the quick, nearly snapped back. To come all this way only to lose both face and substance—was a Marchioness to be scolded to her face by a mere countess?
“Countess, what do you mean by this? My eldest daughter-in-law’s reputation in the capital is well known—accomplished, well-bred, demure of temper and pleasing of appearance. Yesterday’s affair was indeed improper on her part, but overall she has conducted herself decently.”

At that, the Countess arched a brow. “So Madame Tang truly knows nothing?”

Wang Shi’s brows drew together. “What do you imply, Countess? Pray speak plainly.”

Her heart grew less and less steady.

Catching that flicker of uncertainty, the Countess let a cold smile curl her lips. Perhaps Wang Shi truly was in the dark. If so, then she would do a kindness—arm Madame Tang with the truth and let her take Tao Yiran in hand. Having slapped her own daughter’s face before a crowd, Tao Yiran would not be allowed to walk away unscathed.

“That Tao girl has long basked in the capital’s limelight. People praise her learning and talent. Such a young lady should have had suitors from a hundred houses. Yet few came to ask for her hand. Did that never make you wonder, Madame Tang?”

Wang Shi hesitated. “Previously, Madame Tao claimed her daughter’s standards were high and she refused them all.”

The Countess laughed—at Wang Shi’s naiveté. “Your Tang family has flourished for, what, a little over a decade? It’s no wonder there are things you do not know.”

Wang Shi drew a slow breath, tamping down her temper. “I beg the Countess’s instruction.”

Only after a sip of tea did the Countess speak: “I say this because you seem muddled. The Tao family’s Old Madam is not Master Tao’s first wife. Years ago, when Master Tao was posted away from the capital, he took up with a woman—no, not even a proper concubine. The daughter of a courtesan, kept for the bed.”

Wang Shi gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth; the shock struck her hard. This, she truly had not known.

“Wasn’t it said the Old Madam’s family was a distinguished clan from another prefecture?”

The Countess’s face was all scorn. “Distinguished?”

“A harlot by trade who caught a rich merchant’s child, then was taken into his household as a concubine. Later that merchant, currying favor with Master Tao, sent the concubine’s daughter to warm his bed. She conceived.”

“At that time, Master Tao’s proper wife had been married for years without bearing child; worse, her health was failing, her oil nearly spent. The bed-warmer, well-schooled by her mother, had methods aplenty. Her status altered, and she bore a son—then rose to become the Tao family’s jishi—the successor mistress.”

The blow left Wang Shi’s head humming. “So the Tao family’s Old Madam is that bed-warmer—and the son she bore is today’s Master Tao?”

“Just so.”

The Countess cast Wang Shi a meaningful look. “A merchant’s baseborn daughter remade as a legitimate lady to marry into the Tao family—this, the Taos permitted, for the sake of incense and heirs. But such things are easier done than said; naturally the truth was whitewashed. Still, there are no walls without cracks. Many in the capital know the inside story. The Wei Yuan Marquis’s household, however, was not among them.”

As for Wang Shi’s own maiden family, long in decline—there was even less chance they would have heard.

Before Wang Shi could collect herself, the Countess continued, “There is yet another matter of which Madame Tang seems equally unaware.”

Wang Shi’s heart thudded. More? The Tao family has more?
The Countess, heedless of her turmoil, said flatly, “It’s said that concubine’s whelp grew up in the pleasure quarters and never knew her true sire. From childhood she learned the art of ensnaring men. Tell me—what kind of ‘lady’ could such a woman raise?”

“Once she rose to be an official’s wife, her filthy origins naturally had to be buried. To keep her daughter-in-law in hand, she forced her granddaughter to her side—to teach her personally.”

Those four words carried pointed weight. “Have you never noticed? No noble house of rank ever invites the Tao family’s Old Madam to their gatherings.”

“If not for Tao Changci’s modest usefulness—his official record has been passable these few years—even his wife would rarely see the inside of a grand household’s salon. One might say she entered the Tao mansion not knowing the truth—and perhaps regrets it bitterly now.”

The Countess’s derision was too raw to hide. She looked at Wang Shi almost as though at a farce. “In short: what Tao Yiran has learned is the courtesan’s repertoire. How many young ladies of noble birth would bleed themselves half to death to master the zither simply to preen and lure men?”

“And there is one more thing.” As if the knife had not gone deep enough, the Countess twisted it. “Tao Yiran once tried to entangle the Second Prince. The Second Princess rebuked her to her face. Quite a few households know of it.”

“Madame Tang really ought to circulate more.”

“In fact, you should feel fortunate just now.”

Having aired every shameful secret, the Countess felt a fierce satisfaction. Those who crossed her must be prepared to go through life unable to lift their heads.

Wang Shi sat wordless for a long time. Sweat dampened her back. Upon learning all this, her first feeling was not schadenfreude, but dread. She suddenly longed to knock her head before the Bodhisattva’s altar—never had she felt so grateful for her earlier scheming.

So that is why Tao Yiran never felt like the legitimate daughter of an official house: the feigned illness, the feigned frailty, the trembling willow in the wind, the tears and fainting at every turn. It was… her family training.

“Countess, are these things… truly so?”

“Shocking, indeed.”

The Countess did not answer directly. “True or false—you, of all people, should be able to tell.”

“With good upbringing, one only needs a few more looks to see it.”

The cudgel nearly knocked Wang Shi senseless. At the last, the Countess offered a morsel of comfort. “Your Second Young Madam may be the daughter of a salt merchant, but her bearing is measured and her manners innate. That is what the legitimate daughter of a great house should be.”

“Set the two side by side, and the difference is not small.”

Wang Shi let out a long, turbid breath and steadied her thoughts. She had no wish to sit another moment, for fear the Countess would reveal still more—more than she could bear.

The Tao family’s troubles no longer touched Tang Rong alone; they implicated the entire Marquis’s household. One branch withers, all suffer—that much she knew. She rose slowly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I shall take my leave for today. Another time, I will invite the Countess to the opera.”

The Countess made no move to detain her. A faint curve touched her lips. “Madame Tang, safe travels.”

Only when the sunlight warmed her shoulders did Wang Shi feel somewhat recovered. The moment she climbed into the carriage, sweat beaded on her brow. The senior maid hastened to dab it away. “Please don’t fret, Madam. Our Second Young Madam is a good sort. There’s nothing to fear.”

But Wang Shi’s mind churned with the Countess’s words. In the capital, lineages run for generations—what family has no skeletons in the cupboard?

The Taos’ was… outrageous.

If Tang Gang learns of this, won’t he die of apoplexy on the spot?
Strangely, a sly thread of satisfaction curled in her chest.

“Let’s stop by my parents’ house. It’s been too long.”

At this moment, she had no desire to return to the Marquis’s residence. The coach turned toward the Wang household. Along the way, Wang Shi soothed her breath and began to plot what must come next.