Tang Gang’s face was dark, a mix of sleep-deprivation and inexplicable anger. Tang Mo, however, behaved as though he didn’t notice a thing—his attitude respectful and faultless.

“Father, did you summon me for something important?”

Tang Gang had plenty of frustration but nowhere to direct it. Was he supposed to be angry that his son prioritized treating his wife’s injury over coming immediately to see his father? Or was it that he’d helped Tang Yaoming secure an official post without asking permission?

Seeing his father like this only made Tang Mo feel more satisfied. He smiled helpfully and offered, “Actually, Father, there’s something I wished to speak with you about.”

“Go on.”

Tang Mo remained pleasant. “A few days ago, I heard Second Uncle was fretting over Cousin Yaoming’s future. But you, Father, were already preoccupied with Eldest Brother’s matters, so I took it upon myself to ask for help from Shi Mao of the Marquis of Qing’s household. It was a long shot, so I didn’t say anything in advance. You know I don’t have much ability—but who would’ve thought it would actually work out? I must admit, I was surprised.”

“Second Uncle was thrilled. He even invited me for drinks today.”

He’d said it all—leaving Tang Gang even more irritated. What could he say? Had Tang Mo slaved over this task, it would’ve been one thing. But no—he simply mentioned it, and the post was handed out. Who could he complain to?

“Well… since it’s done, it’s a good outcome,” Tang Gang said flatly.

At this point, Tang Gang wanted nothing more than for Tang Mo to vanish from his sight. He had planned to reprimand him, but now couldn’t muster the will.

“It’s getting late. Go rest.”

Tang Mo bowed. “If Father has no further instructions, then I’ll take my leave.”

He turned and left with practiced efficiency. Tang Gang shut the door—only to find Wang Shi standing nearby. He jumped. “Why are you just standing there in the middle of the night?”

“Just watching how the Marquis plays favorites,” Wang Shi said coldly. There was no longer any need to hide her contempt.

“If the heir had secured such a post,” she sneered, “wouldn’t the Marquis have hosted a full banquet?”

Tang Gang opened his mouth but said nothing. He went straight to bed.

Wang Shi, too, remained silent, mentally sorting through what valuable items in the household could be gifted to her son and daughter-in-law.

No sooner had he lain down than Tang Gang spoke again. “Don’t always favor the second daughter-in-law. Keep an eye on the eldest as well.”

As if he hadn’t noticed that Wang Shi had been partial ever since both sons married.

Wang Shi replied, “Don’t blame me for preferring the second daughter-in-law. Look how much she’s had to endure in this marriage—yet she still came to greet us daily from the second day after her wedding. She’s respectful and dutiful. And what about the eldest’s wife? Even if I wanted to favor her, has she ever given me the chance?”

“She’s only come to greet me twice. One day she’s ‘unwell,’ the next she has a headache. And now she’s using your son’s injury as an excuse not to come at all. When I’m away, she strolls the household calling on friends. When I return, she shuts herself away. I’ve never scolded her or treated her harshly, but she puts on a show like she’s been wronged. Who is she performing for?”

Tang Gang regretted opening his mouth. Wang Shi was like a lit firecracker lately—touch her, and she exploded. He dared not argue.

He couldn’t help but feel disappointed in Tang Rong, too—he clearly couldn’t control his wife.

But of course, the one most to blame was Tang Mo. A perfectly good night’s sleep had been ruined by him!

Tang Mo, on the other hand, returned to Qiu’shi Courtyard in excellent spirits and slept soundly. He didn’t wake until the sun was already high in the sky. Once dressed, he went to find Xin An, who had also just gotten up—after all, with a “sprained ankle,” she needed rest. Wang Shi had even sent word early that morning saying she was excused from paying respects.

“Our breakfast is not good.” Tang Mo said, glancing at the sparse dishes. He missed the time when the Old Madam was around and breakfast covered the entire table.

Xin An agreed. “Once you’ve tasted luxury, there’s no going back. Starting tomorrow, let’s spend a little more. Or we can just have someone go buy what we want.”

Tang Mo nodded. “Money is meant to improve life, not gather dust.”

And truly, neither of them had ever been known for thrift.

After breakfast, Tang Mo tucked some silver into his robe and headed out. That evening he was treating Liu Mingyuan to dinner. At noon, he’d meet with Shi Mao and his brothers.

“Can you have some hangover soup ready for me tonight? I have to report to the Northern Garrison in the morning, and I might not be able to get up.”

“No problem,” Xin An said.

Tang Mo grinned and turned to go, but Xin An called after him.

“Aren’t you heading to the Northern Garrison? You’ll need proper clothes. Something presentable. Stand still—Chunlü, measure him.”

Tang Mo was taken aback. In both lives combined, only his mother had ever remembered to make clothes for him. He said, without thinking, “All the uniforms are the same. I won’t get to wear it much.”

“Then I won’t bother,” Xin An replied, lifting an eyebrow.

“Wait, wait—of course I want it!” Tang Mo grinned sheepishly. “Make something nice. I already have a seven out of ten in the looks department—pair that with good clothes, and I’ll be dashing beyond compare.”

His shameless tone made Chunyang and Chunlü duck their heads to hide their laughter. Xin An smiled in agreement. “If you look good, I gain face. Don’t worry—it’ll be handsome.”

Tang Mo spread his arms with satisfaction. Having his wife prepare clothes for him—this was something he could get used to. Tao Yiran had certainly never done that. No wonder Tang Rong had lived such a good life before.

Well, now it was his turn to live such a life. And as for Xin An—sharp-tongued and fierce as she might be—he couldn’t deny she was oddly endearing.

After taking a few steps outside, he doubled back to Spring Blossom Court, claiming he wanted to check on his brother’s injury—but really, he just wanted to see Tang Rong looking pathetic.

“Looks like you’re healing nicely, Brother,” he said. “Just a few more days and you’ll be good as new.”

Tang Rong’s swelling had gone down, the bruises mostly faded—a speedy recovery. Still, he was impatient to be fully healed. “Thank you, Second Brother.”

“I heard you helped Cousin Yaoming get that position in the Censorate?”

Tang Mo waved a hand. “Just a bit of luck. I never imagined it would work so easily. Tonight I’m heading out to thank a few scoundrels—I mean, friends.”

His father and brother often referred to his companions as “riffraff” or “scoundrels”, never missing a chance to look down on those who didn’t fit their mold of proper company.

Tang Rong was momentarily speechless. Tang Mo, utterly unfazed, said, “Rest up, Brother. I’ll be off.”

Watching his gleeful departure, Tang Rong clenched his jaw. He was certain Tang Mo had come just to gloat.

Tao Yiran emerged from the room just in time to see Tang Mo’s confident stride and radiant expression. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, leaving her unsettled. He wasn’t the heir, true—but he gave Xin An every courtesy, and had now succeeded where Tang Rong had failed. It was hard not to see him as capable.

“I thought you were feeling faint. Why are you out of bed?”

Tang Rong turned to support her. “Let’s have the physician come take a look.”

But Tao Yiran was remembering the qi onics and beauty pills Tang Mo had prepared for Xin An—real, practical care. Her heart, already troubled, grew heavier with resentment toward Tang Rong.

After speaking, Madam Wen took a sip of tea, a flicker of doubt in her heart.

Jinchao had invited her to view the flowers—yet here they were, seated in the west side room drinking tea. And now they were simply chatting. Time was short… She was just about to excuse herself when a tall maid lifted the curtain and entered.

“Miss, the camellias you asked Yuzhu to move to the greenhouse have all been relocated. Only the ones in the flower hall remain.”

Jinchao glanced at Qingpu, who immediately understood.

She had instructed Yuzhu to keep watch outside Madam Li’s quarters and report back immediately if Gu Lan went to visit. Gu Lan’s personality was always to flatter upward and trample downward—if raising herself meant pushing Jinchao down, she would never hesitate. Jinchao was quite curious to hear how she would go about appeasing Madam Li. She also wanted Madam Wen to witness it herself.

“Since the flowers are ready,” Jinchao said with a bright smile, “why not accompany me to the greenhouse?”

Madam Wen, finally reassured, smiled in return. “Then I’m in for a treat.” She turned to Gu Jinrong and asked, “Will the Young Master be joining us?”

Though Jinrong still couldn’t quite bring himself to be friendly with Jinchao, and stood awkwardly off to the side, he wasn’t about to appear aloof either. “I didn’t know Eldest Sister grew camellias. I suppose I ought to take a look.”

Jinchao led them to the greenhouse.

Though the camellias had already bloomed and withered, other flowers were at their peak. The Jianlan and Huilan orchids filled the air with delicate fragrance, and a single Baoyu jasmine plant stood resplendent, its densely layered blossoms like clusters of silk pompons.

Madam Wen was visibly surprised. “Say what you will—that Baoyu jasmine is blooming beautifully.”

Jinchao smiled. “It thrives in warmth and humidity—not easy to raise in Yanjing. I had three pots originally, but despite all my care, only this one survived. Otherwise, I would’ve happily gifted one to you. But if we’re speaking of fine blossoms, the white magnolia behind your quarters and Madam Li’s is quite something. Its fragrance is light and elegant—you can smell it from far away.”

Madam Wen paused. “That’s strange. I haven’t seen a white magnolia there.”

Jinchao laughed. “Ah—I forgot. It’s tucked behind the side hall, just past the lattice wall. Perhaps you didn’t look that way. Shall I show you?”

Madam Wen truly loved white magnolia. It was rarely seen and delicate. She agreed, eager to see it.

Jinchao turned to Jinrong. “If you’re not busy, why not join us?”

Gu Jinrong pressed his lips together. He had only exchanged a few words with Second Sister earlier—he still wanted to speak with her more.

Seeing his hesitation, Jinchao gave a soft laugh. “But if you’d rather not, that’s fine too…”

“…I suppose I might as well,” he said, caught off guard by her expression—so reminiscent of the time she had stood before him in tears, full of quiet despair. The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

Jinchao went ahead with her maids. Madam Wen followed, accompanied by her own. Gu Jinrong walked slightly ahead of them, alone.

“Behind the side quarters, we planted groves of Xiangfei bamboo. Mother always loved the noble virtue of bamboo and thought that if she couldn’t have real mountains for company, then a proper rock garden would suffice. So Father had craftsmen stack Taihu stones into a tall artificial mountain, with a spring drawn through the top to mimic the sound of water cascading down.”

Jinchao pointed to the rocky structure as she spoke. “Later, Father personally inscribed the characters ‘Jiuyi’ onto the stone. They had them carved and polished—meant to pair with the bamboo grove.”

She added with a smile, “They say Emperor Shun’s two consorts, Ehuang and Nüying, searched for him across a thousand miles. When they reached Mount Jiuyi and learned of his death, they wept by the bamboo, their bloodstained tears leaving marks on the stalks. Hence the name Tear Bamboo—or Xiangfei Bamboo.”

Madam Wen marveled at the rockery. “It’s beautifully done.”

A path led from the rock garden to the bamboo grove. Beyond that was the side courtyard, and a narrow trail curved toward the flower hall. A low wall, fitted with carved lattice windows, framed the area, offering glimpses of banana trees and drooping willows beyond—a landscape both secluded and poetic.

Yet no sign of the white magnolia was in sight.

Madam Wen asked curiously, “Was it moved elsewhere?”

Jinchao thought for a moment, then clapped her hands lightly. “Ah! I remember—it’s behind the flower hall, right by the lattice window!”

They passed through a thicket of Xiangfei bamboo and rounded the flower hall. There it stood: the white magnolia tree, its pale green buds nestled between glossy leaves. It had yet to bloom.

Madam Wen sighed in disappointment. “Still not in flower…”

But Gu Jinrong whispered, “I think I hear voices.”

Madam Wen gave him a surprised glance, then strained to listen. Sure enough, muffled voices carried clearly through the thin wall.

“…Aunt, you needn’t be offended. That’s just how Madam Wen is. She adores lively gatherings and glittering things—always talking about silver and whatnot. Don’t mind her fawning over Old Madam Ji. Frankly, when she said those things about me, I wasn’t too pleased either…”

Madam Wen’s lips pressed into a hard line.

She motioned for Jinchao to step aside and pushed back the magnolia leaves to peer through the lattice window.

There sat Gu Lan and Madam Li, facing each other. Gu Lan’s back was turned, but Madam Li’s expression was clearly visible.

“I know your worth, Aunt. Everyone in Yanjing praises my two elder cousins as virtuous and graceful. I’ve always preferred you. After all, Uncle holds higher rank than Second Aunt’s husband. If you were to insert my hairpin, I’d feel truly honored. But Madam Wen got to my mother first, so it seemed more tactful to let her take the role… My mother had no choice.”

Madam Li sneered. “She’s always scrambling for attention… Always pushing herself into the spotlight.”

Madam Wen could barely breathe. Her chest tightened as if a stone had lodged in her throat.

And when it dawned on her what exactly had been said—that tightness flared into a surge of white-hot rage.

Oh, Gu Lan, Madam Wen seethed inwardly. Was it I who insisted on going to your mother and offering to be your hairpin inserter? Was it not you and your mother who stood before me lamenting your hardships—how you suffered under Eldest Miss Gu’s oppression? It was out of sympathy that I agreed to help. I even said I’d find you a good marriage!

And now this? Smiling to my face while slandering me behind my back? Whispering to that wretched Song Miaoying, speaking ill of me in secret?

Jinchao, standing quietly beside her, thought: Just as I suspected. Gu Lan really was trying to drive a wedge between Madam Wen and Madam Li.

She leaned in and whispered, “Lan’er’s words… how can she speak of you like that? This is too much—should I go in and say something to her?”

Gu Jinrong, who had been listening too, looked stunned. He didn’t know all the details and couldn’t judge who was right or wrong—but from Madam Wen’s clenched jaw and sharp glare, it was clear Gu Lan’s words had crossed a line.

But Madam Wen was no naïve woman—she had weathered over a decade in the inner court. She pressed down on Jinchao’s hand and said coldly, “Not yet. I want to hear what else she dares say about me.”

Inside, Gu Lan continued in a voice soft and calm:

“Aunt, you mustn’t blame Madam Wen too harshly. She is what she is—fond of drama and drawn to gossip. It’s her nature. She fawns over Old Madam Ji, constantly trying to impress her. To be honest, when she made those remarks about me, I was quite upset…”

At this point, Madam Li’s face had gone rigid.

“She really said that?” Madam Li’s voice trembled with fury. People could tolerate many things—but not when someone touched a sore spot. That kind of pain made people lash out like a cat with its tail stepped on.

Gu Lan’s voice remained serene. “Aunt, my mother did try to persuade her not to repeat idle rumors. She told her not to believe what the streets were saying—that you and Uncle have always been respectful and dignified. But you know what Madam Wen is like. She thrives on these inner-court tales, always meddling in matters that aren’t hers. And once she gets a hold of something, she won’t keep it to herself…”

Madam Li gritted her teeth. “I knew it. That woman would absolutely do such a thing.” Madam Wen’s tendency to chat about others’ family affairs was well-known. Most ignored it—but Madam Li had never approved. Now, her disgust boiled over. “Shameless gossipmonger!”

Gu Lan quickly grasped her hand. “Please don’t be angry. My mother really tried to reason with her. It’s not worth upsetting yourself over someone like her.”

Outside the lattice window, Madam Wen’s temples pulsed with fury.

What a two-faced viper! Such a calm, composed little creature—and yet so vicious beneath the surface. Just yesterday she looked at me with those pitiful eyes, and I, fool that I was, even defended her to Eldest Miss Gu. Believing she had truly been wronged! I even said I’d find her a good match…

What blindness. What utter blindness.

Though burning with rage, Madam Wen remained silent, still listening.

Gu Lan continued comforting Madam Li until her mood finally began to ease.

Madam Li sipped her tea and sighed, “It’s not worth my anger. Knowing the kind of woman she is, why should I waste my energy? But one thing still troubles me—why did your father choose Gu Jinchao to be your ceremonial sponsor? With her character, her conduct—how is she fit for such a role?”

At this, Gu Lan sighed deeply. “Do you think I chose her willingly? It was Father’s decision. Of course I know what kind of person Gu Jinchao is. She’s nearly a year past the age for her own hairpin ceremony, and still no respectable family dares propose. She’s become the laughingstock of the Gu family. So what if she’s pretty? What use is that?”

Madam Li asked, “I’ve only heard rumors—what exactly has she done?”

Gu Lan gave a pained expression. “There are things I’d rather not repeat. She bullies me all the time—fine, I’ve grown used to that. But she once beat her maid so badly the poor girl went mad and was cast out of the household. She forced our father to take a concubine. When my younger brother wanted to stay home to care for his ailing mother instead of going off to study in Qifang Hutong, she couldn’t stand it and forced him away from his mother’s sickbed…”

After Xiuqu returned, Yuzhu gave her the rest of the candy and told her to come by whenever she had time to play. Then she rushed off to find Jinchao.

Jinchao was practicing the qin.

Standing at the study door, Baiyun was already irritated. “You little rascal, what were you doing carrying Baopu off just now? I called for you and you didn’t even answer…”

Yuzhu quickly replied, “Sister Baiyun, it’s urgent. Please let me speak to the Young Miss.”

Before Baiyun could say more, Jinchao heard their voices from inside. She pressed down on the strings to still the sound and called Yuzhu in.

Yuzhu stepped forward and recounted the whole story about Xiuqu: “…This servant stood just outside the door, ear pressed to the panel, and heard everything clearly. She said Madam Li scolded Song Yiniang, and Song Yiniang took it out on her. Then she overheard Song Yiniang asking Gu Lan to go ‘persuade’ Madam Li… She was afraid if anyone found out, she’d be beaten and driven from the household, so she ran away. That’s the gist of it. The little maid was talking to Baopu, bits and pieces—it wasn’t exactly clear.”

Jinchao frowned slightly, deep in thought. Seeing her silence, Qingpu ventured, “It’s just as you said, Miss. Madam Li truly is petty. But what exactly did Song Yiniang say to Gu Lan to make that maid so frightened…”

Jinchao gave a soft laugh. “Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good. That’s why she’s scared.”

What would Song Yiniang have told Gu Lan to say? With Gu Lan’s temperament, it was almost too easy to guess. Given what she already knew, Song Yiniang was likely trying to drive a wedge between Madam Li and Madam Wen, hoping to play both sides for her own gain.

And if Song Yiniang stood to benefit from both ends—then wouldn’t Jinchao be too useless if she just let that happen?

She thought of what Old Madam Ji had said: if Gu Lan were betrothed to the Mu family’s son, she would no longer be a threat.

A new plan was already forming in her mind.

Seeing the maids all staring at one another with wide eyes—and Yuzhu, in particular, blinking at her expectantly as if waiting for some astonishing command—Jinchao burst into laughter.

“What are you all standing around for? Qingpu, give Yuzhu a pouch of silver lumps—she’s done a great service today!”

Yuzhu laughed sheepishly. “Did I really do that well…? But Miss, I don’t want silver lumps. I used the sticky rice candy you gave me to bribe Xiuqu—could I have another box?”

Everyone laughed. Baiyun tapped her on the forehead. “Greedy little thing!”

Jinchao joined in with a smile. “All right. Sticky rice candy, zongzi candy, crispy sugar drops—every kind of sweet from our shop in Baodi, I’ll give you one box each. Just don’t rot your teeth!”

Yuzhu lit up. The candy shop in Baodi had the best selection in the city. She knelt and kowtowed in thanks, hurriedly promising that she absolutely wouldn’t ruin her teeth. The room filled with cheerful laughter once more.

—

Gu Lan had just returned to Cuixuan Courtyard when she saw Jinrong had already arrived with Qingxiu and Qing’an waiting beside him.

She smiled and hurried over, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You came back in person? You could’ve just sent the gifts…”

From the hurried journey, Gu Jinrong’s cheeks were still flushed. “How could I miss your hairpin ceremony, Second Sister?”

He took a blue silk box from Qingxiu and handed it to her. “A gift for your ceremony.”

Gu Lan noticed Qing’an held another box of the same size, in a rich sandalwood tone.

Her heart sank slightly, though her face remained composed. “I’m just glad you came. I wouldn’t expect gifts from you.”

Jinrong smiled. “It wouldn’t be right to come empty-handed. I’ll go greet Eldest Sister first, then come back and chat.”

Gu Lan nodded with a smile, watching his youthful figure walk away—her heart growing heavier with every step.

It seemed Jinrong no longer disliked Gu Jinchao as he once had.

—

After discussing the situation with Qingpu and the others, Jinchao went to have lunch with her mother. When Madam Gu lay down for her nap, a matron came to report that Gu Jinrong had returned and had gone to visit Second Miss first. She asked whether Jingfang Pavilion should be tidied for his stay.

After a brief thought, Jinchao replied softly, “No need. He’ll only stay a day. Just prepare a guest room for him—it’s not worth the fuss.”

Then she turned to Qingpu. “Come with me for a walk by the lake later. And tell Yuzhu to bring in the potted camellias I left outside this morning—have them placed back in the greenhouse.”

Qingpu smiled and nodded before leaving to carry out the errand.

She returned a short while later, and together they strolled along the lakeside walkway until they reached Linyan Pavilion. The flower platform was still under construction. Madam Wen, accompanied by two maids, stood nearby, giving instructions while admiring the blooms.

“Let’s replace the canna lilies with celosia. It may not be as showy, but it pairs better with the purity of the June Snow blossoms…”

She was advising the matron on floral arrangement.

Jinchao stepped closer. “I agree—canna lilies are too garish.”

The matron saw her approaching and quickly bowed. “Madam and Eldest Miss both have refined taste. I only know that red is festive—I’d never think of matching hues. Thank you both!”

Madam Wen’s face stiffened slightly. “Eldest Miss, what a surprise to see you here.”

Jinchao smiled. “You’re too formal, Madam Wen. I really do prefer celosia…”

Jinchao could guess what kind of poison Song Yiniang had poured into Madam Wen’s ear—surely painting Gu Lan as a sweet and gentle girl, while portraying Jinchao as some monstrous villain.

But Madam Wen was the kind who couldn’t stay angry for long—show her a little humility, and her heart would soften.

“I suppose the canna lilies are a bit too much,” Madam Wen conceded.

She recalled the accusations Song Yiniang had made—how Eldest Miss mistreated Lan’er—and had been furious, swearing she would stand up for the girl.

But now, looking at Gu Jinchao—gracious in manner, proper in speech—Madam Wen began to hesitate. Doubt crept into her heart.

Speaking with Madam Wen about flowers, Jinchao said with a smile, “It seems you’re very fond of flowers…”

Madam Wen nodded. “When I have time to spare, some enjoy embroidery or playing the qin and pipa. I prefer flowers and plants. Though I don’t like to grow them—I just enjoy admiring them. I’m far too lazy to tend to them myself.”

Jinchao chuckled lightly. “Then you must come visit my courtyard sometime. I grow quite a few varieties—camellias are most abundant, but I also have orchids and peonies. They’re not rare specimens, but they’re blooming beautifully this season…”

Song Yiniang had asked her to assist Gu Lan in choosing hair ornaments later that evening.

Madam Wen hesitated. She worried she might not have enough time. Still, with Eldest Miss Gu inviting her so warmly, refusing seemed ungracious. And besides, her maternal family was the Ji family of Tongzhou—building a good relationship with her couldn’t hurt.

“Well, I suppose I’ll enjoy a treat today,” Madam Wen said with a smile, agreeing.

Jinchao led her toward Qingtong Courtyard. Outside, a matron was sweeping the stone steps. The bodhi tree, planted the previous year, had just shed its leaves, and the pale green buds of new shoots were scattered across the ground. Beneath the tree stood Gu Jinrong, quietly gazing down the stone path.

Seeing Jinchao return, he stepped toward her—though his stride was hesitant, as if afraid she was still angry.

So he came back after all, Jinchao thought with a quiet sigh. Then she smiled and asked, “What brings you to my courtyard?”

Relieved that she was speaking to him, Gu Jinrong’s expression relaxed. “I came to bring you something.”

Jinchao ignored his words for the moment and turned to Madam Wen. “This is my younger brother, Gu Jinrong. He’s here for Lan’er’s hairpin ceremony. Madam Wen is Song Yiniang’s second elder sister.”

Boys were rarely seen in the inner residence, but Madam Wen, noting his identity, showed no surprise—after all, he was the Gu family’s eldest son.

Jinchao invited Madam Wen into the west side room, where a maid quickly brought tea. Gu Jinrong followed them in, but seeing Jinchao speaking cordially with Madam Wen while ignoring him completely, he pursed his lips and sat down without a word.

When Jinchao felt she’d left him to stew long enough, she finally asked, “What is it you brought me?”

Gu Jinrong signaled to Qing’an, who stepped forward and handed over a sandalwood box.

Opening it, Jinchao found a jade ruyi puzzle ball about the size of a clenched fist. Intricately carved, the outer sphere was delicate and detailed, housing a smaller inner ball, and within that, a tiny jade bead.

“I went to Jade Market Lane with the Marquis of Zhenwei’s heir,” Jinrong explained. “We found a fine piece of jadeite and had it carved into two pieces—a ruyi puzzle ball and a qilin paperweight. I brought them for you and Second Sister. Since tomorrow is Lan’er’s hairpin ceremony, I also thought of how I missed yours last year…”

Jinchao drew a breath. So this was his way of making up for not attending her hairpin ceremony?

She remembered clearly—last year, at her own coming-of-age, Gu Jinrong hadn’t even sent a single gift, let alone returned home. Now, in preparing for Gu Lan’s ceremony, he conveniently remembered to bring her something as well. Jinchao had Caifu store the gift away. She felt neither touched nor disappointed.

She didn’t believe Jinrong had truly seen through Gu Lan—only that his deep concern for Lan’er still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Turning to Madam Wen, Jinchao said with a smile, “I’ve already gifted Lan’er a set of gold-thread hair ornaments—she loves them. She even asked Father for some last time. I also prepared gold bug brooches and matching bangles. I chose them all carefully—I just hope she likes them.”

Madam Wen smiled politely. “Lan’er is gentle and easygoing—I’m sure she’ll appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Back at the Linyan Pavilion, Qiaowei recounted everything that had happened in Xiexiao Courtyard to Song Yiniang.

Having heard it all, Song Yiniang frowned deeply. “So… they met Old Madam Ji, fine. But my two sisters—they’re not the type to be swayed by money alone. How did Old Madam Ji find out about the Mu family’s proposal? If that gets out, they certainly won’t agree to be part of Lan’er’s hairpin ceremony!”

And if they refused, finding suitable replacements on short notice would be no easy task.

Looking at it now, it seemed wiser to have Madam Wen serve as the Hairpin Inserter for Gu Lan. After all, Lan’er’s marriage couldn’t be delayed. And if Madam Wen could help secure a better match for her, then the matter of Mu’s concubine-born son would naturally be avoided.

But Madam Li and Madam Wen had never gotten along—choosing Madam Wen might offend Madam Li…

Thoughts churned in Song Yiniang’s mind. Once she made her decision, she went with Gu Lan to Madam Wen’s temporary quarters.

Madam Wen was inside working on her embroidery. Upon seeing Song Yiniang and Lan’er arrive, she quickly instructed a maid to bring out an embroidered stool.

“We’re just here for a little chat,” Song Yiniang said with a pleasant smile, picking up the embroidery hoop in Madam Wen’s hands. “This pattern is beautifully done.”

Gu Lan added her praise, “The stitching is neat and precise, the colors soft and elegant. I quite like this style!”

Madam Wen smiled. “Just something to pass the time… I wonder how Lan’er’s embroidery has come along these days?”

Song Yiniang sighed. “That’s a sore spot for her. The household hired Madam Xue, trained under the renowned Ji family, to teach Su embroidery—but she only instructs the Eldest Miss. Lan’er could only learn what little I could teach her.”

Madam Wen’s brow furrowed. “Even if Lan’er is a concubine’s daughter, she’s still a proper Gu family miss. How could they not assign her a proper embroidery tutor?”

Gu Lan tugged at Song Yiniang’s sleeve. “Aunt, please, let’s not talk about it anymore.”

But Song Yiniang continued, “That’s hardly the worst of it. When the Madam had ornaments made for Eldest Miss, Lan’er—who’s also about to have her hairpin ceremony—received nothing. Eldest Miss dares to beat and scold Lan’er’s personal maids at will, taking anything she wants. Lan’er is gentle by nature and doesn’t like to quarrel. But Eldest Miss never misses a chance to humiliate her. And I—I can do nothing to stop it…”

Madam Wen had no patience for bullies.

She let out a cold snort. “That Eldest Miss Gu is far too domineering!”

Song Yiniang added, “If Lan’er could marry well, she could leave this place and escape her torment. But a good marriage… is hard to come by.”

Madam Wen instinctively took Gu Lan’s hand. “Then there’s no need to worry. I’ll keep my eyes open. We’ll find you a proper match, Lan’er!”

She called herself “Aunt”—a sign of genuine affection for Gu Lan.

Gu Lan smiled softly. “You’re always so kind to me.”

After a pause, she added, “But Eldest Sister’s marriage hasn’t been settled either. Perhaps you could help her too?”

Madam Wen snorted. “Someone like her? I wouldn’t dare propose a match for her! I heard the Deputy Minister of Communications in Shandong was in the capital for his report and asked the Earl of Anyang to arrange a proposal—wanted Gu Jinchao as his second wife. He’s over forty, sure, but becoming the wife of a fifth-rank official isn’t something to scoff at. And yet your father turned him away with curses… Frankly, I don’t think Gu Jinchao is even worthy of him! And you—you still want to help her after how she’s treated you?”

Song Yiniang laughed. “Not to help her, of course. But if you could find someone who, on the surface, comes from a splendid family—just enough to get her married off—then we’d solve two problems at once. Her marriage would be handled, and Lan’er wouldn’t have to endure her anymore. Everyone benefits.”

Madam Wen understood at once.

What Song Yiniang truly wanted was to get Gu Jinchao married off. It didn’t matter who the man was. In fact… if he had a flaw or two, all the better.

Seeing that Madam Wen was silent, Song Yiniang smiled. “But today I actually came to ask if you’d be willing to serve as Hairpin Inserter for Lan’er. I’ve gone on and on about other things—apologies. I won’t trouble you with anything more. Would you be willing?”

Recalling all that Song Yiniang had said about how Gu Jinchao treated Lan’er, Madam Wen didn’t hesitate: “Of course I will.”

Meanwhile, Jinchao had just seen Old Madam Ji off at the gates.

Before getting into the carriage, Old Madam Ji had said to her, “Lan’er’s marriage is delicate—mishandle it, and it’ll ruin her. You must do your best to secure the match with the Mu boy. You’re clever—I don’t need to spell it out for you. If Lan’er is engaged to him, it’ll be like cutting off Song Yiniang’s arm. Then you’ll have nothing to fear.”

It was sound advice.

But Jinchao hesitated. Others might not know the Mu family’s son—but she did. If Gu Lan married him, her life would be one of ease and indulgence—but…

Still, an engagement between them would also benefit her. It would weaken Song Yiniang’s influence. If both sides gained from it, then she would do what she could to make it happen. What came after marriage was Gu Lan’s own fate.

She turned to Old Madam Ji. “I understand.”

Old Madam Ji gently patted her head. “As for your marriage, I already have plans. Our Chao’er must marry someone truly worthy.”

At the mention of Ji Yao, Jinchao thought of that pained, restrained look in his eyes—and found herself at a loss for words.

Old Madam Ji said nothing more. She sighed softly and stepped into the carriage. Jinchao watched as it passed through the carved archway gate before returning with Qingpu.

If Ji Yao were to marry her, she thought, even if he didn’t love her, he would still treat her well, never let her suffer.

But he would never touch her.

And she didn’t want a marriage like that. She didn’t want to force someone into her life.

Back at Linyan Pavilion, Song Yiniang had just persuaded Madam Wen to take part in the ceremony when Qiaowei came to fetch her to see the newly completed opera stage. She casually sent a newly assigned maid to inform Madam Li that Madam Wen had agreed to be the Hairpin Inserter, and that she should kindly accept their gratitude.

The young maid, Xiuqu, had just turned twelve by lunar reckoning and was newly assigned to Linyan Pavilion. She wasn’t yet familiar with the layout of the rear residence and wandered for a while before she finally found Madam Li’s quarters.

She walked in without knocking—right in the middle of a conversation between Madam Li and her daughter, Li Fu.

“…That second sister of mine—always pretending to be so warm-hearted, but her eyes are fixed on silver. I find her character quite questionable…”

Just then, Madam Li’s maid spotted Xiuqu’s figure peeking from the doorway and snapped, “Who’s there? Sneaking around like a ghost!”

 Xiuqu stammered, “It’s me, miss… I serve in Song Yiniang’s courtyard. I was sent to deliver a message to Madam Li.”

Madam Li’s expression tightened. So she and her daughter were overheard?

“Come in and speak.”

In stepped a small maid with a double-bun hairstyle. She knelt with a thump. “Greetings, Madam Li, Second Miss Li. Song Yiniang asked me to deliver this message: Madam Wen has agreed to be the Hairpin Inserter for Second Miss. She wishes to thank you for your kind offer.”

At the mention of Old Madam Ji’s lavish gifts to Gu Lan, Madam Li gave a cold laugh. “I understand. You may go.”

 Xiuqu raised her eyes nervously to Madam Li, but her icy gaze sent a chill down the girl’s spine. She quickly scurried out.

“Mother,” Li Fu said softly, “didn’t you say you were still considering whether to help Cousin Lan with the ceremony? Now that Second Aunt has agreed, why do you still look displeased…”

Madam Li sneered, “Your father outranks Madam Wen. By all rights, I should be the one chosen for the hairpin ceremony. Yet Song Yiniang picked Madam Wen without even consulting us. And then she sends a message through some impudent little maid? It’s truly insulting!”

Her voice wasn’t exactly quiet— Xiuqu, who was still outside, heard every word loud and clear. When she returned to Linyan Pavilion and reported back, she repeated Madam Li’s words exactly as she had heard them.

Song Yiniang’s face darkened. “Such a petty mind! She’s making a fuss over something so trivial.”

She sent Qiaowei to summon Gu Lan, saying she had something to instruct her about.

 Xiuqu remained in the room, not knowing where to place her hands or feet. Seeing the girl’s awkward posture, Song Yiniang—still simmering from Madam Li’s insults—snapped, “Why are you just standing there like a fool? Get out!”

 Xiuqu had never seen Song Yiniang so angry. Her eyes filled with tears as she quickly bowed and scurried from the room.

Gu Lan arrived within the time it took for a single incense stick to burn. Song Yiniang pulled her into the inner chamber, instructed Qiaowei to shut the doors, and began speaking in a voice just loud enough to carry through the panels:

“…You go and speak to her. If she’s dissatisfied with us choosing Madam Wen, then give her even more reason to resent Madam Wen. That’s what would serve us best…”

Gu Lan nodded. “It’s just a matter of playing favorites—flatter one while downplaying the other. As long as I talk to her sweetly, there’s no way Madam Li will stay angry.”

 Xiuqu, lingering nearby, suddenly felt she shouldn’t be hearing any of this—or rather, that she didn’t dare to hear it. She quietly slipped away from the inner room, stepped out of Linyan Pavilion, and wandered off with no one to confide in. She didn’t know any of the other maids there.

She strolled by the lake for a while and somehow ended up near Madam Li’s quarters. Just then, she noticed Yuzhu nearby, peeking in the direction of the two madams’ rooms.

What is Yuzhu doing here?

 Xiuqu remembered that they’d been friendly back in the service quarters—Yuzhu had once given her sticky rice candy. She stepped closer and tugged on her sleeve. “Yuzhu, you shouldn’t be spying on the madams’ rooms like that. If a senior maid sees you, you’ll get a beating!”

Yuzhu jumped. She’d been sent by her mistress to keep an eye on the madams’ quarters—how had this little maid caught her?

She quickly smiled. “My mistress just wanted me to see if Madam Li needed anything so she could send it over…”

Then she recalled seeing Xiuqu enter Madam Li’s courtyard earlier and asked, curious, “I saw you going in there, too. What were you doing?”

Xiuqu couldn’t detect the subtle trap in her words. Thinking of Madam Li’s harsh tone, she couldn’t help recalling her own humiliation—scolded twice in a row. The bitterness she had just suppressed resurfaced.

“I… I really shouldn’t talk about it… If Song Yiniang finds out I’m spreading things around, she’ll beat me to death with sticks! Qiaowei Auntie said so during training!”

Yuzhu’s eyes lit up. A mischievous idea formed in her head.

She grabbed Xiuqu’s hand and said, “Forget it, then. Want some candy? My mistress is so kind—she gave me a whole box of sticky rice candy the other day. I’ll share some with you!”

Xiuqu had nothing else to do for the moment, and it had been ages since she’d had a real conversation with anyone. She smiled and nodded.

Yuzhu pulled her back to her room, dug out a box of candy from under her pillow, and the two girls sat on the kang bed, swinging their legs as they ate.

“Do you like it?” Yuzhu asked. “I love pulling it apart into fine threads and eating it piece by piece.”

 Xiuqu nodded.

Yuzhu leaned in again. “I think you’re having a hard time with Song Yiniang. If there’s something bothering you, why not tell me? We can pinky swear it’ll stay between us.”

 Xiuqu shook her head vigorously. “No! Qiaowei Auntie said we’re not allowed to talk about anything that happens inside the courtyard!”

This girl may be a little slow, Yuzhu thought, but she’s obedient enough. She smiled again.

“Oh! I’ll bring my mistress’s cat for you to see. He’s so plump and fluffy—everyone adores him!” Most girls couldn’t resist soft, cuddly animals. At the mention of a kitten, Xiuqu’s interest perked up immediately.

Yuzhu dashed to the corridor, scooped up Baopu, who had been napping, and brought him back to her room—ignoring Baiyun, who called after her.

Baopu was placed on the bed, where he looked like a round ball of fluff. He stretched out a paw to swat at Xiuqu’s sleeve. She laughed and stroked the fur atop his head, watching as the little creature squinted in contentment.

“Your Qiaowei Auntie said not to tell any people. So just talk to the cat,” Yuzhu said with a grin. “Baopu can’t talk. He won’t repeat anything.”

 Xiuqu hesitated, then gathered Baopu into her arms. “Then I’ll talk to the cat… But you can’t eavesdrop!”

“I’ll stand guard outside the door,” Yuzhu said, eyes shining. “If anyone comes, I’ll let you know!”

At last, Xiuqu nodded. As she told her troubles to the cat, it didn’t feel like breaking Qiaowei’s rule at all.

“…I brought Li Fu with me to serve as your attendant. Have you chosen your ceremonial sponsor and hairpin inserter yet?” Madam Li asked Gu Lan.

But Gu Lan first turned to Li Fu and praised her warmly, “This is my first time meeting Second Miss Li—you’re truly lovely!”

Li Fu offered a reserved smile, saying nothing.

“Father chose my elder sister to be my ceremonial sponsor,” Gu Lan continued, glancing calmly at Gu Jinchao, who was quietly sipping her tea nearby.

“You chose Eldest Miss Gu?” Madam Li sounded surprised.

Jinchao nearly choked. Why can’t they just let me enjoy my tea in peace…?

She looked up and saw that both Madam Wen and Madam Li had stiffened their expressions. It was clear they both found her character unworthy of serving as sponsor.

But this decision had come from her father—as if she had even wanted the role.

Setting down her teacup, Jinchao replied coolly, “If Lan’er is unwilling, I can speak to Father and have someone else take my place.”

Gu Lan’s expression turned slightly aggrieved. “Please don’t misunderstand, Elder Sister. I never said I didn’t want you as my sponsor. You mustn’t think that…”

Her voice trembled just enough to appear fragile, as if she feared Jinchao might devour her whole.

Before Song Yiniang could interject, Madam Wen had already stepped in, her face darkening. She gently patted Gu Lan’s hand and said to Jinchao, “Please don’t take offense, Eldest Miss. Our Lan’er meant no harm—she simply isn’t very skilled with words. There’s nothing more to it.”

Jinchao smiled at Madam Wen. “How could I hold it against Lan’er?” She then leaned in and affectionately wrapped an arm around Gu Lan’s shoulders. “We’ve always been close, haven’t we?” she said, and even winked at her.

Gu Lan’s body stiffened. She found Jinchao’s hand on her shoulder insufferably invasive, but couldn’t lash out in front of others. She forced a nod.

Jinchao withdrew her hand, lifted the lid of her tea cup, and gently blew on the surface before taking a refined sip.

Gu Lan and Madam Wen were left momentarily speechless by how quickly Jinchao had turned the situation around.

At that moment, Baiyun arrived from the corridor. She bowed to the madams and concubines before addressing Jinchao directly: “Eldest Miss, Old Madam Ji has arrived.”

Jinchao put down her teacup, surprised and delighted. “Grandmother came in person? What brings her here?”

Baiyun replied, “Old Madam Ji came specifically to deliver a gift for Second Miss. She said she would also stop by to see you and Madam. She’s currently in Madam’s courtyard.”

“Old Madam Ji? The Matriarch of the Ji family in Tongzhou?” Madam Li asked in astonishment.

Baiyun nodded. “Yes, that’s her. Eldest Miss’s maternal family is the Ji family of Tongzhou.”

The expressions on both madams shifted at once.

They had never paid much attention to the legitimate Madam of the Gu household. To them, she had long seemed like little more than a ghost of a woman—Song Yiniang had practically taken her place already.

Who would have thought… the Madam was from the Ji family of Tongzhou! No wonder Song Yiniang had never mentioned it.

If she was indeed from such a powerful house, then the chances of Song Yiniang being elevated to principal wife dropped significantly…

Jinchao turned to Gu Lan with a smile. “Since Grandmother personally came to deliver a gift for you, you must go greet her properly.” Then she added, addressing the two madams, “If you’re willing, why don’t you come with me to pay her a visit?”

The two women, of course, were eager.

Even if Jinchao hadn’t extended the invitation, both Madam Wen and Madam Li would have found a way to get there. Making a connection with Old Madam Ji could only benefit them. The Ji family in Yanjing was among the wealthiest households in the capital, with vast holdings in shops, estates, and real estate. Their transport lines stretched north to south, and their annual profits from freight alone exceeded tens of thousands of taels of silver.

Song Yiniang’s face had grown noticeably tense, but she couldn’t openly stop the two madams from visiting Old Madam Ji. Instead, she sent her trusted maid Qiaowei to accompany them, saying it was to ensure their comfort on the way.

When they arrived at Xiexiao Courtyard, Xu Mama was already waiting under the covered corridor. She informed them that Old Madam Ji and Madam Gu were speaking privately inside, while Moyu and Momei waited outside. She asked Moyu to escort the two madams to the western side room to wait.

It had been a long time since mother and daughter had spoken, and they surely had much to say.

As the group made their way to the western room, they passed the Covered Hand Corridor, where they saw more than a dozen maids and matrons standing quietly, along with three stewards. All of them stood with heads bowed, facing the doorway—silent and unmoving.

Madam Wen whispered to Moyu, “These are all your Madam’s attendants?”

Moyu smiled. “Oh no, Madam misunderstood. These belong to Old Madam Ji.”

Madam Wen couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. “Judging by their attire and manner, they’re certainly not ordinary servants…”

She was privately stunned. For servants of Old Madam Ji to include stewards—and for them to enter the inner courtyard without restriction—meant they were bound servants, sold into the household. It was said that Old Madam Ji’s authority within the Ji family was absolute. And now, it certainly seemed to be true.

Madam Li glanced at Madam Wen.

They waited less than a quarter hour before Xu Mama returned and personally escorted them inside.

Jinchao first introduced Madam Li and Madam Wen as Song Yiniang’s elder sisters. Old Madam Ji, Ji Wu Shi, did not offer them much warmth. She simply nodded with a faint smile in acknowledgment.

Madam Wen quickly offered flattery: “I’ve long heard of your reputation, Old Madam Ji. It’s an honor to finally meet you in person.”

Madam Li merely smiled faintly, but said nothing.

Old Madam Ji lay on the heated kang bed, a brocade quilt with cloud-and-wild-goose patterns covering her legs. Her health remained frail. Though early summer had arrived, she still couldn’t keep warm and needed a hand warmer at night. Rising was difficult, so she simply greeted them with a smile.

Gu Lan stood behind, observing her two aunts without expression—until she heard Old Madam Ji speak:

“Lan’er, child… it’s only been a year since I last saw you, and you’re looking at me like I’m a stranger…”

Though her tone was gentle, her eyes were sharp as knives.

It was a rebuke—for failing to offer a proper greeting.

Jinchao gave her a tug, prompting her to step forward and pay her respects. Gu Lan was thoroughly reluctant. Old Madam Ji was Jinchao’s grandmother—what did that have to do with her? She had no desire to call her Grandmother.

Grinding her teeth, she forced out, “Wishing Grandmother good health…”

Old Madam Ji smiled. “Lan’er has grown more and more graceful. With your hairpin ceremony coming up, we ought to begin speaking of marriage prospects, shouldn’t we?”

Ji Shi smiled gently. “Nothing has been arranged yet. If you know of any suitable prospects, perhaps you could help us find a match for Lan’er?”

Gu Lan replied softly, “Mother needn’t worry. Father will handle my marriage himself. How could we trouble Grandmother over such matters? Besides, Eldest Sister’s marriage is still undecided. I’ve always thought that she should marry first—only then should I be wed. Otherwise, wouldn’t I be showing her disrespect? If Grandmother truly worries over someone’s future, she should look after Eldest Sister’s. Her situation is far more urgent than mine…”

Old Madam Ji’s face darkened.

Was Gu Lan mocking Jinchao for not having a good match—implying she couldn’t get married?

Jinchao had no intention of letting Old Madam Ji take offense. What was a few clever jabs? They meant little to her. What mattered was not letting her grandmother’s kind intentions be ruined by petty remarks. With a smile, she reached for Old Madam Ji’s hand and said, “Don’t worry. If I never marry, I’ll just move in with you.”

Old Madam Ji chuckled. “What nonsense. What girl doesn’t marry…”

But as soon as the words left her lips, she turned coldly toward Gu Lan once more.

Under that gaze, Gu Lan’s scalp tingled. Old Madam Ji was stern to begin with—when she unleashed her full authority, even the most imposing household matron would seem timid by comparison.

After a long pause, Old Madam Ji turned back to Jinchao, her expression easing. “Of course I must worry over your future. You’re my granddaughter. I can’t bear to see you married off to some dull and foolish man.” She beckoned to Mama Song. “Go, tell Steward Zhu to bring in the gift I prepared for Lan’er.”

Gu Lan’s heart skipped.

What did that mean? Did Old Madam Ji know about the Mu family’s marriage proposal? How did she find out?

She looked toward her mother. Madam Gu must have told her—after all, the two had been speaking alone for quite some time. Had they been talking about her all along?

While Gu Lan tried to piece it together, four matrons arrived, carrying two shoulder-poles’ worth of gifts.

On one side was a tall jade Buddha, more than a foot in height. On the other, an array of ornate hairpins—gilded with gold, inlaid with gemstones, and silver pieces set with bright jewels. Altogether, the offerings easily exceeded a thousand taels in value.

Madam Wen and Madam Li were both wide-eyed. They had never seen such an extravagant gift for a hairpin ceremony.

The jade Buddha alone was remarkable—not just in size, but in quality. If carved into bracelets, it would have made high-grade pieces. As a single sculpture, it was truly outstanding.

And the hair ornaments—each was a masterpiece, carefully arranged in embroidered boxes, glittering and dazzling to the eye.

Madam Wen turned to Gu Lan with a smile. “Your grandmother really treasures you. Just look at all she’s given you.”

Old Madam Ji said mildly, “It’s nothing much. I only noticed that Lan’er dresses so simply most days and thought she could use some fine accessories. Since she’s often chanting and praying, the Buddha will bless her. If she can do more good deeds, all the better.”

Gu Lan looked at the dazzling display—but instead of gratitude, she felt deeply uncomfortable. These weren’t gifts—they were weapons.

Was she being bought off like a beggar? Or was Old Madam Ji mocking her, implying she dressed poorly or had a poisonous heart?

Old Madam Ji caught all their expressions with practiced ease. Gu Lan, she thought, was still too narrow-minded. If it had been me, I would’ve received the gifts with grace and thanked her with poise.

Turning slightly, she spoke to Jinchao: “Now that I’ve visited your mother and brought a gift for your sister’s hairpin ceremony, it’s time I head back. There’s always work to be done at home. If you miss this old woman, you must come visit me.”

Jinchao smiled warmly. “Then I suppose I’ll have to travel to Tongzhou every day.”

Both Old Madam Ji and Madam Gu laughed.

Naturally, Madam Wen and Madam Li rose to take their leave. As they walked with Gu Lan down the flagstone path, Madam Wen continued to gush, “Your grandmother really dotes on you—so many gifts! You must be very filial in return.”

Gu Lan, already burning with frustration, found her words unbearable. She turned a cold glance toward Madam Wen.

This aunt of hers might have a warm disposition—but honestly, she lacked any sense.

Fortunately, Madam Wen continued talking to herself, oblivious to Gu Lan’s expression.

A few days later, her father summoned Jinchao to ask about Ye Xian.

Jinchao replied calmly, “Last time, the Shizi accidentally injured my cat. This time, he came specifically to apologize.”

Gu Deshao gave her a long look, clearly doubtful.

After sitting down, he continued, “Lan’er said the Shizi once gave you a painting?”

Jinchao didn’t bat an eye. “He felt guilty about the cat and gifted a painting—of a cat. Second Sister was there and saw it. Hasn’t she explained it to Father?”

Gu Deshao frowned slightly, then gave her a word of caution. “The Shizi is your elder in terms of generational hierarchy. You must treat him with the utmost respect from now on.”

That warning was meant to prevent rumors of an improper relationship. Jinchao couldn’t help but smile—even if she were ten times bolder, she wouldn’t dare harbor private feelings for Ye Xian.

Gu Deshao soon changed the topic to Gu Lan’s coming-of-age ceremony.

“Your Second Sister’s hairpin ceremony is in half a month. The household will be quite busy. As her elder sister, you should begin thinking about what kind of gift you’ll prepare. She also needs a sponsor for the ritual. Would you be willing to serve as her zan zhe?”

Jinchao naturally agreed. Though, in her heart, she doubted Gu Lan would be pleased. That girl was prideful to the extreme—she probably thought Jinchao’s reputation too poor to be her ceremonial sponsor.

“Have you and Mother chosen who will insert the hairpin and officiate the rites?” she asked.

Gu Deshao replied, “Your Song Yiniang wants to select one of her two elder sisters—both already married into respectable families—to insert the hairpin. As for the officiant, she’s thinking of using one of her nieces. You needn’t worry about it.”

After returning to Qingtong Courtyard, Jinchao asked Tong Mama to send word to Luo Yongping in Baodi.

Luo Yongping was now the steward of two silk shops jointly run by the Gu and Ji families, a position secured thanks to Jinchao’s personal recommendation to her mother. He was deeply grateful to her and carried out any instruction she gave with care and precision.

He arrived in fine silk robes patterned with auspicious flowers, looking even rounder and fairer than before. With a beaming smile, he asked, “What instructions does Eldest Miss have for me today?”

Jinchao asked him to prepare a hairpin ceremony gift for Gu Lan.

“Something extravagant—shining gold, the kind of thing that looks expensive at first glance. And there must be a full set of gold-thread insect motif hair ornaments. She’s especially fond of those.”

Baiyun and Caifu both pressed their lips into knowing smiles.

Luo Yongping nodded eagerly. “I’ll see to it at once, Miss.”

Jinchao then remembered what her father had said about Song Yiniang’s elder sisters. She had little knowledge of the Song family and didn’t know what kind of women they were, or whom they had married.

She instructed Luo Yongping again. “Song Shaoqing of the Court of Ceremonial Affairs has two legitimate daughters who married into other families. Help me inquire about them.”

Luo Yongping paused to think, then caught on immediately. “Understood, Miss.”

Two days later, he sent a servant to deliver the items. There were three lacquered boxes: two containing gold-thread hairpins with fine insect engravings, and one with a pair of gilded bracelets.

Jinchao was quite pleased and asked Tong Mama to store them away carefully.

Then Luo Yongping pulled out a slim, blue booklet from his sleeve. “This is the household background of Song Yiniang’s two elder sisters. I feared I might forget something if I explained it aloud, so I prepared this written summary for you.”

He was, as always, thorough and meticulous.

Jinchao rewarded him generously and had him seen out. Then she had Qingpu open the window to let in the sunlight and reclined on the kang bed, spreading the booklet open in front of her.

The elder of Song Yiniang’s sisters had married Li Xuanfu, a military commissioner stationed in Shaanxi. Though he held post in the province, he had only taken his personal servants with him, while his wife, Madam Li, remained in Daxing County with her mother-in-law and two daughters.

Rumor had it that Commissioner Li had taken a concubine and fathered a son in Shaanxi, which was why he refused to return to the capital. Madam Li was proud and highly sensitive about this. Once, she overheard a servant gossiping about it and immediately drove her out of the household.

She placed great emphasis on female virtue and propriety, and her two daughters were known far and wide for their refinement and dignity.

The second sister had married Minister Wen, an Assistant Director at the Court of Imperial Banquets. Though only a fifth-rank official, he had once been a disciple of Zhang Julian and was considered part of his faction—his prospects were promising. Madam Wen had borne a legitimate eldest son and moved comfortably in the social circles of court officials’ wives and daughters.

Luo Yongping had not only written up the family backgrounds but also included several discreet rumors. Everything was detailed and precise.

After reviewing it, Jinchao discussed it with Tong Mama.

“In terms of personality,” said Tong Mama, “I think Song Yiniang will likely choose Madam Wen as the one to insert the hairpin. She’s cheerful and known for matchmaking—most of the marriages she’s arranged turned out well. Song Yiniang will surely want to keep her close for the sake of Second Miss’s future.”

“But Madam Li is proud. If she’s not properly appeased, she might secretly hold a grudge.”

Jinchao smiled faintly. “Then perhaps she should be the one chosen. If it were me, I’d pick Madam Li. Better to offend a gentleman than a petty soul. There’s nothing more dangerous than being resented by someone narrow-minded… Though I suppose there’s no need to worry. Gu Lan knows how to handle these things.”

Tong Mama chuckled. “I’d forgotten that. You should rest now, Miss. You’ll need to visit Madam later in the afternoon.”

Jinchao nodded and had Qingpu light the candle stand. She then personally burned the booklet to ash.

Mid-spring had passed, and late spring was giving way to early summer. In her courtyard pond, the lotus plants had begun to bud, delicate tips tinged with pale violet.

The Gu household was lively with preparations. Pomegranate trees, oleanders, and cannas were moved out from the greenhouse to fill the courtyards with color. A special flower platform was even constructed for the celebration.

Gu Deshao personally drafted the guest list and hired the Deyinfang Opera Troupe to perform. As the day of Gu Lan’s hairpin ceremony approached, gifts poured in—not only from nearby families like the Marquis of Yongyang and the Songs, but also from the Luos of Luoxian Hutong and the Fang family of the Duke of Dingguo’s residence.

Jinchao was in her room dyeing her nails.

That morning, the balsam flowers had bloomed beautifully. Seeing her pale hands, she suddenly wanted to stain her nails red. She had Yutong bring out a glass bowl, and plucked the petals herself from the garden.

The petals were crushed and mixed with white alum, forming a vivid red paste. She carefully applied the mixture to her nails and wrapped each fingertip in cotton.

As her hands rested on a small table, Caifu read aloud the list of recent gifts copied from the registry:

“From the Luo family of Luoxian Hutong, one set of glazed bowls and goblets… From the Fang family of Duke Dingguo’s household, an antique three-footed incense burner with twin beast handles… From the Mu family of Yuer Hutong, a pair of jade bangles in filigree settings…”

Upon hearing the name Mu family, Jinchao asked Caifu, “They sent a gift too?”

Caifu replied, “Several of Father’s close colleagues sent gifts—but the one from the Mu family was by far the most generous…”

“The more lavish the gift, the more trouble it brings them,” Jinchao said with a nod, signaling her to continue reading.

After a while, Baiyun came in to report, “Miss, Madam Li and Madam Wen have arrived. They’re currently with Song Yiniang.”

With only four days remaining until the hairpin ceremony, Song Yiniang had already asked Father for permission and sent a steward to escort her two elder sisters to the Gu household. They would be staying for a few days, giving the sisters and nieces time to catch up.

Previously, Madam Li and Madam Wen had kept a certain distance from Song Yiniang. But now that there was a faint possibility of her being elevated to principal wife, they had grown markedly more affectionate. After all, her daughter’s sponsor was soon to be promoted, and the Gu family had ties by marriage to the ancestral branch—connected to none other than the Marquis of Changxing. Aligning with the Gu family could only bring benefits.

Jinchao considered this and asked Caifu to help her wash her hands.

Caifu was puzzled. “Miss, it’s not the right hour yet…”

“A soft pink hue looks best. No need for bright red,” Jinchao replied casually.

Caifu assisted her, and sure enough, her nails, pale as cream, now glowed with a delicate rosy tint—graceful and lovely.

Jinchao took Qingpu and Caifu with her to pay a visit to Song Yiniang, specifically to meet Madam Li and Madam Wen.

Madam Li had brought her second daughter, Li Fu, who was clearly meant to serve as sī zhě, the ceremonial attendant. Li Fu, age fifteen, wore a lilac robe embroidered with curling vines. She was modest and reserved—pretty in her own way, but a touch stiff in demeanor.

Madam Li’s expression turned odd the moment she saw Jinchao. There was a trace of disdain in her eyes, and when Jinchao greeted her politely, she barely returned a curt nod before turning away.

Jinchao recalled what Luo Yongping had written in the booklet: Madam Li placed great value on the Three Obediences and Four Virtues expected of women. Someone like Jinchao—rumored to be arrogant and unruly, and not entirely proper—was the sort of girl Madam Li especially disapproved of.

Madam Wen, however, greeted Jinchao warmly with a smile. “Chao’er, you’ve grown more beautiful by the day. Even the garden blooms seem dull beside you.”

Madam Li eyed her more critically and said, “Eldest Miss has such vivid beauty. Perhaps she might try something more plain in attire.”

As if to imply she looked too alluring.

Jinchao found the remark absurd. She was wearing a celadon silk robe patterned with auspicious clouds—what could be more modest than that?

Even Song Yiniang sensed her elder sister’s lack of tact and chuckled, “Our Eldest Miss is famed in all of Shian for her looks. It’s not often she visits me here. I heard you’re fond of lotuses, and the ones by the Misty Veranda are blooming beautifully. If you like, pick a pot to take home.”

Jinchao smiled and teased, “Aunt, your lotuses are thriving—I wouldn’t dare take what you cherish!”

Song Yiniang’s gaze flickered, and just as she was about to reply, Qiaowei came in to announce, “Second Miss has arrived.”

Gu Lan entered with a bright smile and immediately took Madam Wen’s hand. “Madam Wen! It’s been ages since I saw you!”

Madam Wen beamed and pulled her close. “Let me see—you’ve grown into a proper young lady!”

Gu Lan laughed, “No matter how much I grow, I’ll always be close to you. I still remember when I was little and wouldn’t take my medicine—you bought me honey taffy!”

Song Yiniang chided her gently, “Mind your manners. Come greet Madam Li and Second Miss Li.”

Gu Lan then turned to Madam Li with another smile. “I was just too happy to see you. Madam Li is so gracious, and Second Miss is so gentle and composed—I knew you wouldn’t hold it against me.”

Madam Li replied, “Of course I wouldn’t. But you’re too naïve. One day, someone will take advantage of that, and you won’t even realize it.”

Gu Lan smiled sheepishly. “With my elder sister around, who would dare bully me?” Her gaze slid toward Jinchao, full of meaning.

Madam Wen stroked her hair affectionately.

Jinchao watched the exchange, hiding a small, wry smile.

Gu Lan’s skill at speaking one way before people and another behind their backs… truly masterful.

For a moment, Jinchao didn’t know what to say. After some thought, she offered him a proper bow and said, “Thank you, Cousin. If you help me this time, I promise—should you ever need anything I can offer, I will help you in return.”

That favor… could very well one day spare the Marquis of Changxing’s life.

But Ye Xian replied coolly, “Don’t thank me just yet. I haven’t agreed to help you.”

Jinchao stared at him, momentarily speechless with frustration. This Marquis’s heir! If he wasn’t planning to help, then what was with all that dramatic storytelling?

She took a deep breath. “Does Cousin have a condition, then…?”

Ye Xian shook his head, his brow furrowing slightly, as if caught in some private hesitation. “I’ll come find you in three days.”

The mood for sightseeing was utterly gone. Even as Gu Lan and Gu Lian whispered and giggled all the way back, Jinchao paid them no mind.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

In the capital’s Yuliu Hutong, nestled beside Fuxue Hutong, where the Shuntian Prefectural Academy resided, stood the estate of the Marquis of Changxing. This was a neighborhood reserved for nobility, and among them, the Marquis’s residence was the crown jewel. It took up most of the lane, designed like a poetic garden from Jiangnan, brimming with elegance and charm.

The Marquis himself was a rough and unsophisticated man, hardly one for poetry or refinement. But his wife,  Gao Shi, daughter of Grand Tutor Gao, was quite the opposite. A woman of fine upbringing and scholarly accomplishment, she excelled in poetry, prose, and household affairs. Under her management, the residence was orderly and serene.

Their marriage had always been one of harmony and mutual respect. Even though Gao Shi had borne no son for ten years after entering the household, the Marquis had never taken a concubine.

Ye Xian was born when she was thirty-four.

At this moment, he sat in quiet contemplation in his study, reclining in a grand armchair lined with fox fur, a cup of steaming tea in hand. Outside, light rain drifted through the misted eaves. In the celadon fish tank, a soft clang echoed—the old turtle had flipped over again.

“Young Master, the Old Marquis wishes to see you,” reported Zhishu, his page, standing respectfully at the door.

Ye Xian raised an eyebrow and set his tea down on the high table beside him. “…He’s finally willing to see me.”

He rose and stepped into the covered corridor. Zhishu jumped in alarm and rushed after him with an umbrella. “Young Master, you mustn’t walk in the rain!”

The Old Marquis—Ye Xian’s grandfather—was now nearly eighty years old. A seasoned general, he had spent his life on the battlefield, though unlike his son, he was also a scholar, versed in classics and calligraphy. His seal-script calligraphy remained powerful and well-regarded.

He was practicing calligraphy when the maid announced Ye Xian. Calmly setting his brush on the brush rest, he said, “Let him in.”

Ye Xian stepped into the study. The two—grandfather and grandson—stood silently across from each other for a long while. The Old Marquis observed Ye Xian’s steady composure and thought to himself, He may be young, but he’s far sharper than his father. Trying to outlast me in silence? Hmph. That temperament—just like his maternal grandfather’s.

But the Old Marquis had no patience for games.

“…If you bring Xiao Qishan down from the mountains, can you guarantee his identity won’t be exposed?”

Ye Xian considered the question. “His Majesty’s illness lingers. The Empress is anxious, and the palace and Embroidered Guards are in constant motion. I doubt anyone will take notice. Besides, Master Xiao has lived in seclusion for many years—few now recognize him. You can rest assured. He is, after all, my mentor. I would never let him take a risk lightly.”

No firm promise—but no refusal either.

The Old Marquis smiled. “Back when Prince Cheng’s faction plotted rebellion, he was the most respected of their advisors. He should have been executed on the spot. But I admired his resolve—he refused to flee when the city fell. Had he served His Majesty, he could have brought great benefit to the realm. But that temperament of his—too proud, too stubborn. He’d rather vanish into the wilderness than bow his head to the Emperor…”

“Since he’s your teacher, then his life and safety are your responsibility. Go now. Sooner or later, the Marquisate will be yours to govern. Learn to judge things for yourself.”

With a wave of his hand, the Old Marquis dismissed him.

Ye Xian called for a servant to ready the carriage and departed for Shian District.

When word reached Gu Deshao that the Marquis’s heir had come alone to see Jinchao, even he was surprised. He quickly ordered wine and refreshments prepared and sent Shuiying to fetch Jinchao.

She hurried over, breath slightly uneven. Ye Xian stood by the railing, feeding the fish. The water glimmered with ripples, bright koi swimming beneath the surface. His black sash and jade pendant swayed in the breeze, his profile sharp and elegant as jade.

Watching him from a distance, Jinchao couldn’t help but admire his poise. Say what one might—when it came to appearance and bearing, Ye Xian was undeniably a noble gentleman.

Without turning around, he said languidly, “You remember—you owe me a favor.”

A spark of joy flared in Jinchao’s heart. He agreed to invite Master Xiao to treat Mother’s illness!

She approached with a smile. “Of course I remember. Might Cousin tell me when Master Xiao will arrive, so we can make preparations?”

Ye Xian turned to her. Jinchao’s eyes sparkled. Though she smiled often, there was usually a trace of shadow in it—yet now, her expression was clear, radiant, almost dazzling.

He couldn’t help but smile in return. “I’m not sure. Probably in a little over a month. Master Xiao values peace and quiet. He has no other requests.”

He had come swiftly, and left just as quickly. Before leaving, he looked at her again and reminded her, “Don’t forget—you owe me.”

Jinchao’s steps were light as she made her way back to Qingtong Courtyard. Qingpu was just as thrilled. “So there’s a real chance now that Madam’s illness can be cured… Should we tell her the good news?”

Jinchao thought for a moment, then smiled. “If something delays Master Xiao and he doesn’t arrive in time, it’ll only make her worry. Better to wait until he’s here. It’s not so urgent.”

Qingpu nodded. “Second Miss’s coming-of-age ceremony is on the thirteenth of the Fourth Month. The household will be quite busy. If Madam also had to worry about Master Xiao, it might be too much…”

As they chatted, they saw two young attendants carrying things out of Juyliu Pavilion. A closer look revealed scrolls, inkstones, and tea leaves among the items. A steward walked behind them, urging them to move faster.

Jinchao gave Qingpu a glance, and she immediately stepped forward to stop the steward. “Steward Li, where are these things going? Are they being cleared out of Juyliu Pavilion?”

Steward Li noticed the eldest miss nearby and quickly replied with deference, “These are gifts from Minister Mu, originally given to the Master. He’s instructed us to dispose of them outside the estate.”

Qingpu was puzzled. “Didn’t Minister Mu, Assistant Director of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, always maintain good relations with the Master?”

Steward Li lowered his voice. “You may not have heard—today, Minister Mu brought Lord Jiang, the Rector of the Imperial Academy, to propose a marriage. He wants his concubine-born eldest son to marry Second Miss. But that son is dull and round-faced—no one in the capital wants to give their daughter to him. The Master was displeased, dismissed Lord Jiang politely, and later lashed out in his study. He ordered all of Minister Mu’s gifts thrown out…”

“If not for Lord Jiang’s respected reputation—and the fact that the Master was once his student—things might have turned ugly.” As he spoke, he watched Jinchao’s expression carefully.

Once he had left, Qingpu returned to Jinchao’s side, half amused. “Miss, looks like Song Yiniang and Second Miss have trouble ahead…”

Jinchao’s lips curved slightly. “Minister Mu’s rank is higher than Father’s. Father may throw a tantrum, but he can’t openly reject the proposal. If Gu Lan doesn’t want to marry that son, she’ll have to find her own way out of it.”

Minister Mu’s concubine-born eldest son was not only dull and plump—he was rumored to be half-mad.

Last year, he went on an outing with the second son of Magistrate Liu. The boy joked that horse urine tasted good—and he actually tried it, then smacked his lips and declared it delicious. Magistrate Liu scolded his son thoroughly afterward, but the story became a joke at the Mu boy’s expense.

Knowing that her father’s close friend had tried to arrange that kind of match, it was no wonder her father was furious.

After all, Gu Lan was a concubine’s daughter. People would naturally think less of her.

Still… for all his simple and foolish appearance, Minister Mu’s son was, in truth, quite clever. Jinchao remembered clearly—he would eventually inherit the entire Mu estate. In the end, he married the fourth daughter of the Earl of Anyang, cherished her deeply, and never took even a single concubine.

The news soon reached Gu Lan.

Her face turned pale. Clutching Ziling’s sleeve, she asked, “Did Father agree to the match?”

Ziling spoke with nervous caution. “This servant doesn’t think so… After that, the Master flew into a rage and ordered all of Minister Mu’s gifts thrown out.”

Only then did Gu Lan exhale in relief. She immediately sent Mulan to fetch Song Yiniang, while she sat by the lattice window, staring blankly at the sunlit courtyard. She would never marry a fool.

If she were to marry, it ought to be—to someone like Ye Xian, a man as striking as an exiled immortal, not some bumbling idiot. And it ought to be as a principal wife, not as some concubine-born daughter. She had endured enough of the indignities that came with being born of a concubine.

From childhood, her older cousins had never cared to play with her, looking down on her for her birth. And as she grew older, she had once admired Gu Jinchao. But after Jinchao returned to the Gu family, all the affection and attention shifted toward her. She received more silver, more jewelry—even her maids outnumbered Gu Lan’s.

Gradually, she found herself resenting Jinchao more and more. That proud, domineering manner of hers—how contemptible! Yet no one else seemed to agree. No matter how well-behaved or proper Gu Lan was, people noticed Jinchao first. And she? She was nothing.

Must she be humiliated even in marriage now?

Seeing her mistress lost in thought, Ziling couldn’t help but speak up. “Miss, this servant thinks… the match with the Mu family’s eldest son isn’t entirely without merit. His mother, the principal wife, passed away long ago, and there’s no powerful maternal family behind him. Though he’s simple, he’s honest—perhaps in time… And you would be the official wife. Minister Mu is an Assistant Director of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, a fourth-rank official. He could easily secure a good position for his son in the future…”

Gu Lan’s gaze turned icy. “Shut your mouth. What do you know? Get out!”

Ziling panicked, bowed quickly, and retreated without another word.

Just then, Song Yiniang lifted the curtain and stepped in, only to have Gu Lan rush into her arms, already in tears. Her voice trembled. “Mother… do you think Father will agree to this marriage?”

Song Yiniang’s face was grim as she held her daughter, guiding her back to sit on the kang bed.

“Your father refused quite bluntly this time,” she said slowly. “But the proposal came through Lord Jiang. Though he’s respected, he’s never been good at matchmaking. If Minister Mu sends someone else—someone more persuasive—your father might waver. After all, Minister Mu works under the Third Master of the Chen family. He has a promising future in court. Your father won’t want to risk falling out with him entirely…”

Gu Lan looked at her mother in confusion. “Then what do we do…? I don’t want to marry that fool!”

Song Yiniang gently stroked her back. “Mother knows. But for now, we must find a way to make Minister Mu think twice before raising the proposal again.”

Gu Lan sat up in worry.

Song Yiniang gave a faint smile. “Now, think—if you were a legitimate daughter… would Minister Mu still dare to offer that match?”

Gu Lan stared at her, stunned. Only after a long moment did she understand what her mother meant. “You mean, if… if you were promoted to principal wife? But… looking at Ji Shi’s condition, she may well live for years yet!”

Song Yiniang’s tone grew contemplative. “Then we must worsen her condition. If she dies… well, you’ll need to observe mourning. You wouldn’t be allowed to marry for a year. But after that year, I will have been promoted.”

From Shian to Xicui Mountain, the post road meandered through verdant hills and crystal streams, lined with pastoral fields and tranquil villages. In the paddies, young rice shoots glistened green under the sun. Between the intersecting dikes and footpaths, one could spot willows trailing in the water and wild peach blossoms blanketing the land.

At the foot of Xicui Mountain, the carriages came to a halt. The ancestral family’s vehicle had already arrived. Second Madam Gu stood waiting solemnly outside the mausoleum gate. The young ladies of the Gu family alighted and bowed in greeting.

“Come now,” she said, motioning with composure. “Let’s head up. Second Master is already waiting above.”

During their last visit to the ancestral home, Jinchao and the others had only caught a glimpse of Second Master Gu from afar, never having the chance to formally pay respects.

With maids, matrons, and attendants in tow, the party began the climb up the mountain path, following the neatly laid stone steps.

Xicui Mountain was the site of the Gu family’s ancestral tombs. Nearby stood Lingbi Temple, constructed through the funding of the ancestral household to safeguard the family’s fortune and glory. The Gu family made regular pilgrimages here, ensuring the grounds were meticulously maintained year after year. The stone steps were immaculate, and every hundred paces there stood a resting pavilion. A small courtyard had even been built beside the tombs.

Local villagers coming to offer incense at Lingbi Temple would always retreat respectfully upon seeing the Gu family’s arrival. The ancestral family owned much of the land in the Xicui region—many villagers relied on them for their livelihoods.

The young ladies, raised within the inner chambers, quickly grew breathless from the ascent. The sun was high, and Jinchao herself felt faint. She turned to glance behind—Gu Xi and Gu Yi clung to one another, stumbling forward. Gu Lan was drenched in sweat. Gu Jinxian and Gu Jinxiao, however, looked as if they were merely out for a stroll.

Ye Xian, on the other hand, appeared truly unwell. His pale complexion now carried a bluish tint.

Second Madam turned back and, startled, asked, “Shizi Ye, do you need to rest?”

Ye Xian waved her off, about to speak, when his chest suddenly heaved, his breath caught—and before he could utter a word, his eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed.

Panic rippled through the group.

“Clear the way!” barked Gu Deshao, his voice steady. He gestured for two attendants to carry Ye Xian to the nearest pavilion. There, they laid him flat and loosened his collar.

The young ladies quickly turned away out of decorum—but Jinchao, half-turned, kept a watchful eye.

Fifth Madam, in tears, fumbled with trembling hands to retrieve a porcelain vial from her sleeve. She shook out a few scarlet pills the size of rice grains and carefully fed them to Ye Xian with a sip of water.

Second Madam couldn’t help but scold, “Shizi Ye¹ hasn’t fully recovered? Why would you let him climb the mountain with us?”

“I didn’t know…” Fifth Madam wiped her eyes. Ye Xian’s breathing was still labored. She gently patted his chest to help him breathe. “He told me he was fine. If something truly happened to him, I—”

Their father stood nearby, his expression grim. He waved at the steward to go ahead and notify Second Master Gu.

Ye Xian coughed sharply, then again. And then, at last, his breath steadied, his chest no longer heaving.

Jinchao caught it clearly—there was a glint of tears in his eyes.

He slowly sat up. Fifth Madam immediately wrapped him in a gentle embrace, patting his back as if he were a child. But he softly pushed her away and rose to his feet. His face was bone-pale, glimmering faintly like polished jade. Without a word, he stepped out of the pavilion and resumed the climb up the mountain path.

Everyone looked to Fifth Madam.

She shook her head to indicate that he was fine now, and only then did the group continue on.

Gu Lan drew close to Fifth Madam and asked in a hushed tone, “Fifth Aunt, I had no idea Cousin Ye’s illness was this severe…”

Fifth Madam gave a faint, bitter smile. “This is nothing. There were times when his breath nearly stopped altogether. I was beside myself with fear. Because of this illness, he’s never been able to run or play with other boys. When the General of Fuyuan’s son would go riding, he could only stand and watch, envy written all over his face… And yet he’s always been proud—he hates nothing more than showing weakness in front of others.”

Gu Lan looked ahead. That slender, upright figure walked silently before them, the black trailing ribbon and ivory-white hem of his robe catching the wind and sunlight. His posture was straight as a blade of jade—but something in that proud, solitary silhouette tugged at her heart.

At the summit, they reached the courtyard. Jinchao and the others first paid their respects to Second Master Gu. Compared to Gu Deshao, he was even more imposing and stern.

Upon hearing that Ye Xian had fallen ill on the way up, he rebuked Second Madam with a few cold words, then instructed that Ye Xian be taken to rest. But Ye Xian merely shook his head. “I’d like to visit Lingbi Temple.”

Second Master gave a nod and assigned Gu Jinxian, two attendants, and a steward to accompany him.

The rest of the party headed to the burial grounds. Behind them, servants carried offerings—spirit money, paper ingots, and the traditional three sacrificial meats.

After the ancestral rites, Second Master personally trimmed the overgrown brush with pruning shears. The Fourth and Fifth Masters planted willows around the graves. Once the ritual was complete, they returned to the courtyard.

The young men began playing cuju, while the girls, having had little chance to enjoy the scenery thus far, yearned for a spring outing.

Gu Lan proposed, “Why don’t we visit Lingbi Temple? We can offer incense and enjoy the view.”

Gu Lian beamed and looped arms with her. “There’s a willow tree I planted there—I’ll take you to see it!”

Their excitement was contagious. Fifth Madam took charge of the group, leading the girls with maids and guards in tow.

To reach Lingbi Temple, they had to walk a mountain path bordered on one side by cliffs and on the other by walls of tangled vines. Below lay an expanse of rice paddies and farming villages. In the far distance, the canals of Tongzhou and Baodi shimmered like silver threads—an awe-inspiring view.

Though not a grand temple, Lingbi was the most renowned in Xicui. Its incense offerings were abundant, and ancient cypresses towered all around. The abbot himself came out to welcome them.

Gu Lian, bright-eyed with excitement, pulled Gu Lan along to admire the willow tree she had planted.

Jinchao cast a glance at the temple—and happened to notice Gu Jinxian standing beside the bell tower.

Fifth Madam approached him. “I brought your cousins to offer incense. None of us have eaten yet—why not have a vegetarian meal here? Do you know where your uncle went?”

Gu Jinxian replied, “I’m not sure. Perhaps the Hall of Heavenly Kings.”

Fifth Madam instructed the girls to explore the temple grounds—but only under the watchful eyes of their maids and guards—then went to speak with the guest steward to arrange the meal.

Jinchao, wanting to light incense for her mother, took Qingpu and made her way toward the Mahavira Hall.

Outside the Mahavira Hall, temple pines and flattened bonsai pines stood in solemn rows. Within, the golden statue of Shakyamuni sat cloaked in gold leaf, its expression serene and compassionate, bathed in the flickering glow of votive candles—resplendent and radiant.

Jinchao knelt on a woven cushion, palms pressed together in earnest prayer. The hem of her snow-white embroidered skirt spread softly across the wooden floor, as pristine as a blooming lotus.

Ye Xian stepped inside just then. Qingpu was about to speak when he raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence.

Jinchao finished her silent recitation and took the incense sticks Qingpu handed her. When she turned to place them on the altar, she was startled to see Ye Xian standing quietly, hands clasped behind his back, watching her in silence. She had hoped to avoid him—and instead, had run straight into him.

“You came to offer incense too, Cousin?” she asked with a bright smile. “Qingpu, give the incense to Cousin Ye.”

Ye Xian gazed at her for a long moment. His eyes were cool, almost frosted with distance. Then, he asked softly, “Do you pity me?”

Jinchao blinked, confused. “What is there to pity? You’re the heir to the Marquis of Changxing. Your grandfather is the esteemed Grand Tutor Gao, President of the Hanlin Academy, revered by all and surrounded by brilliant disciples. You were granted a hereditary title the day you were born, favored by the late emperor himself. Most people envy you.”

Not to mention, she thought, you’ll one day hold power that overshadows all others—killing without consequence, feared by the court. Who would dare pity you, unless they had a death wish?

Ye Xian looked at her. She was stunning—breathtaking, even—and the temple’s golden light only magnified that beauty. And yet, she wore such plain mourning white, her eyes cool and calm, her demeanor untouched by vanity, as though unaware of her own allure.

His expression softened. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “What did you just ask of the Buddha?” he asked.

He’s trying to have a conversation with me? Jinchao had hoped to avoid any interactions with him. She wasn’t trying to win his favor—she only prayed he would someday forget her existence.

Still, on second thought, there was nothing wrong with her response just now. Composed once more, Jinchao answered, “My mother is gravely ill. I only prayed for her recovery.”

She wanted to ask for so much more—but that would be greedy, wouldn’t it? The Buddha might scorn her for wanting too much. So she offered a single wish: Let Mother live. That alone would be enough. Everything else could come in time.

Ye Xian paused. “Your mother is seriously ill?”

Jinchao nodded. “You didn’t know? Fifth Aunt came this time precisely to see her.”

His brow furrowed deeply. “And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?”

Jinchao’s brow twitched. As if everyone doesn’t already know! Why did she need to report it personally to the Marquis’s heir?

In a quiet voice, she said, “You’re right. I should have told you first.”

Ye Xian caught the edge of her tone—it sounded faintly like sarcasm—but he let it pass. “You really should have,” he said seriously. “Half a year ago, my mentor, Master Xiao Qishan, was still in Yanjing. If he had seen your mother then, she might already be recovering.”

Jinchao froze. “What did you say?”

It was rare for Ye Xian to see her so visibly shaken. His smile deepened. “Xiao Qishan, a physician from Puding County in Guizhou. A master of his craft. He shuns worldly fame and prefers seclusion in the mountains.”

Xiao Qishan? She had never heard of him before—but that didn’t matter. If he could save her mother, nothing else did.

“Is he really that skilled? Could he cure my mother? Where is he now?”

Ye Xian gently tapped her shoulder. “Listen to me.”

“When I was two, I nearly died from illness. The palace physicians said I wouldn’t live another six months. My grandfather personally traveled to Guizhou to find him. Years ago, he had once saved Master Xiao’s life, so the man agreed to treat me. That’s the only reason I’m alive today.”

“I can’t promise he’ll cure your mother. But I believe he can prolong her life, at the very least. The thing is, he’s currently deep in the mountains of Guizhou. I’ll need to send someone to bring him here—the mountain paths are treacherous, and even at the fastest pace, a round trip will take at least a month.”

1. Shizi Ye – A respectful form of address for the heir apparent to a noble title, in this case, the Marquis of Changxing. Shizi denotes the legitimate successor to a hereditary peerage. ↩︎

Xin An wished to build connections with Yan Wenhui and begin opening doors within the circle of noblewomen in the capital.
Yan Wenhui, on her part, wanted to help Liu Mingyuan maintain a good relationship with Tang Mo. Though Xin An was the daughter of a salt merchant, her beauty and poise made her a worthwhile acquaintance.

And so, the two women quickly hit it off. Not long after, they were shopping the night market together. Xin An, who initially hadn’t planned to buy much, soon had Tang Mo laden with bags. Liu Mingyuan wasn’t spared either. The two men exchanged helpless smiles and followed obediently behind, reaching into their sleeves for silver at every stall.

After Yan Wenhui made another two purchases, she began to wonder—how was Liu Mingyuan’s purse still holding up?

“Look at this, Sister,” Xin An said, showing her a pouch embroidered with green bamboo. “Isn’t the stitching exquisite?”

The comment pulled Yan Wenhui’s thoughts back. She ran her fingers over the delicate embroidery. “It’s lovely. You should get it—perfect for personal use or gifting.”

She had been dying to ask about the marriage switch; after all, everyone loves a little gossip. But the setting wasn’t right.

“Will you be free in a few days?” she asked instead. “I’ve invited some of my closest friends from my maiden days to see an opera in three days’ time. Would you care to join us?”

“If you’re willing to bring me along, I’d love to,” Xin An replied without hesitation. “I’ve never seen a capital opera before. I don’t know many people in the city, and I’d be truly grateful for the chance.”

Yan Wenhui smiled warmly. “It’s settled, then. I’ll have someone deliver an invitation tomorrow so it’s all proper.”

Xin An nodded, and Yan Wenhui leaned closer, dropping her voice. “You should smile more, Sister. Even I—a fellow woman—was dazed for a moment. Doesn’t Second Brother Tang go weak in the knees?”

Xin An blinked, then burst into a brighter smile, her ears turning pink.

When the market began to quiet, Yan Wenhui finally parted reluctantly. Xin An waved goodbye as Tang Mo helped her into the carriage.

Back on their own journey, Yan Wenhui mused, “My brother said Tang Mo cherished this wife he ‘traded’ for. I hadn’t believed it—but now, I see he was telling the truth. Then again, with a face like hers, it’s no wonder.”

Liu Mingyuan commented that Tao Yiran wasn’t bad either—known throughout the capital as a talented beauty, and from a proper official family. That made a difference.

“You men don’t understand a thing.”

Yan Wenhui had never liked Tao Yiran. “She’s always acting so prim and proper. Her clothes are practically colorless—like mourning robes. Is she afraid people might notice her?”

Tao Yiran preferred pale, muted garments. At banquets, surrounded by women in bright reds and greens, she stood out effortlessly—drawing the attention of most young men and stirring the ire of many women.

Liu Mingyuan, unaware of these nuances, naturally admired women of talent and grace. Tao Yiran, being both beautiful and accomplished, fit that mold. But seeing his wife’s mood shift, he quickly added, “Of course, no one compares to you.”

With a huff, Yan Wenhui changed the subject. “What’s with your sudden burst of generosity? You’ve been throwing money around these last few days.”

Liu Mingyuan stiffened but replied casually, “Tang Mo pays for his wife. I couldn’t let you pay for yourself—how embarrassing would that be? I’ve just been gritting my teeth and bearing it. If you keep shopping, I really will run out.”

She didn’t press further, but made a mental note to ask her brother later.

By then, Tang Mo and Xin An had returned to the residence. No sooner had they stepped inside than Steward Zhang, one of Tang Gang’s men, rushed over.

“Second Young Master, the Marquis asks to see you.”

Tang Mo gave a noncommittal grunt and started walking in the opposite direction. When Zhang repeated himself, he replied, “It’s dark out. I need to see my wife home to Qiu’shi Courtyard first.”

Just because he was summoned didn’t mean he had to go right away.

Absolutely not.

He held out his arm to Xin An. “Mind your step. Go slow.”

He looked as if Xin An could barely walk on her own.

Suppressing a laugh, Xin An’s eyes sparkled with mischief. She suddenly cried out, “Ouch!”—and pretended to twist her ankle.

“It hurts—I can’t walk,” she said pitifully.

Had it not been for the smile tugging at her lips, Tang Mo might’ve believed her. He was ready to tease her but remembered Steward Zhang behind them and switched to a tone of concern.

“I told you to watch your step—how’d you manage to twist it?”

“Is it serious?”

Xin An winced. “Can’t walk.”

Tang Mo took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Resigned, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms. After a few steps, he muttered under his breath, teeth clenched, “You should eat less. You’re heavy as a rock.”

Xin An beamed, delighted. Being carried was wonderful. “Try to sound a little more loving. Who knows how long this ‘injury’ might last?”

Tang Mo sighed. “I must owe you something. You used to act like a nun—now you’re all coy and fragile. Did you go mad from repression?”

She didn’t look fat. Why was she so heavy?

Xin An chuckled. “Well, I never got to enjoy this before. I’m just making up for lost time.”

He grunted. “You’re making up everything on me, aren’t you?”

“Possibly.”

Tang Mo picked up his pace. No helping it—the faster he walked, the less she weighed.

When they finally reached the room, he practically tossed her onto the bed and collapsed beside her, panting. “Seriously, eat less. You’re like a sack of bricks.”

Xin An flipped over and laughed freely, kicking off her shoes and sitting cross-legged. “Aren’t you going to see your father?”

“No.”

Tang Mo had grown bold. “My wife sprained her ankle. She was crying her eyes out—I had to apply medicine, comfort her… It took forever to calm her down. How could I not stay?”

Nothing good ever came from his father calling at this hour.

“It’s probably because Second Uncle visited. He wants to make a fuss now.”

“You’re right,” Xin An said with a smile. “But still…”

“When your father calls, you should go. But when you go—that’s the real question.”

Tang Mo’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Exactly. I’m a good son. How could I ignore Father’s summons?”

“I’m going to wash up and sleep,” Xin An said, slipping off the bed.

Tang Mo watched enviously. She was a new bride, adored by her mother-in-law, and even her father-in-law didn’t dare scold her. She did whatever she pleased.

“Next life, I want to be the woman.”

“Sure,” Xin An said, grinning. “We’ll be sisters.”

The thought of putting flowers in his own hair made Tang Mo shiver. On second thought, maybe being a man wasn’t so bad after all.

Meanwhile, Tang Gang had waited and waited, only to be told Xin An had twisted her ankle and Tang Mo was applying her medicinal wine.

He sighed and decided to just go to bed.

Late into the night, as he slept soundly, an unrepentant Tang Mo arrived—loudly.

“Father! Are you asleep? I’m here!”

“Father! Faaather!”

In the darkness, Tang Gang opened his eyes. Wang Shi lit a candle and sat up. “The second boy must have something urgent.”

Tang Gang rose, threw on a robe, and opened the door—clearly not pleased. “What is it?”

Tang Mo bowed with exaggerated formality. “Didn’t you ask Steward Zhang to call me? My wife twisted her ankle—swollen and aching—and started crying from homesickness. I had to rub in the medicine and coax her to sleep. Once she was settled, I came right away.”

After leaving Tang Yong’s residence, Tang Mo and Xin An dropped Wang Shi off at home before heading to the Xin family estate. They also let it be known they wouldn’t return for dinner—once out, it was hard to head back early.

Wang Shi didn’t find their fondness for going out problematic in the slightest. On the contrary, she encouraged them to eat early and stroll through the night market. “Summer nights are made for wandering the stalls. Take two guards with you—that’s enough.”

But recalling Xin An’s last spree at the night market, Tang Mo didn’t dare be unprepared. He brought four bodyguards this time, all broad-shouldered and strong. Just by looking at them, he was confident—they could definitely carry.

The Xin family estate was being prepared for renovation. Wang Jin and his son Wang Fu had been busy managing the work. The plan was already taking shape.

“If we want a larger garden, we’ll have to tear down one of the side courtyards,” Wang Jin explained. “There are enough rooms in the main house. It won’t be a loss.”

“The Young Master suggested a covered walkway in the courtyard. We could link it to the pavilion, creating a leisure space for all seasons.”

Tang Mo had already invited skilled craftsmen to draft the renovation plans, and Wang Jin’s family had been actively involved throughout. “Master Fu says the drawings should be ready in two days. Once finalized, we can begin.”

Tang Mo added, “We should include a wine cellar. I’ll stock it with good vintages. Also, let’s have two large tables made—big enough for a dozen guests each. And a warm room is essential. In winter it’ll be heated; in summer, a resting place for the ladies.”

Xin An agreed. The estate was meant to host guests comfortably. Once the rest of the Xin family arrived in the capital, they’d need to hold gatherings. Having their own space would spare them the trouble of using public teahouses or restaurants—no place compared to one’s own elegant garden.

With Tang Mo and the Wang family managing everything, Xin An played the perfect hands-off role. Aside from approving expenses, she had nothing to worry about.

As the sun set, the couple headed to a restaurant for dinner—wealthy and carefree, enjoying the ease of their young married days.

Meanwhile, back at the Marquis’ residence, Tang Gang had just learned that Tang Mo had helped secure an official post for Tang Yaoming. Tang Yong himself had come bearing lavish gifts to deliver the news.

He hadn’t meant to involve Tang Gang, but knowing the news would reach him eventually, he decided to be upfront. “It was a shot in the dark, but it worked. Don’t worry, Big Brother. I made all the necessary arrangements. Mo’er helped, yes, but I wouldn’t let him take a loss.”

Tang Gang could barely keep his composure. If it had been Tang Rong’s doing, he would’ve been delighted. But Tang Mo? His neglected son growing more capable by the day, while the favored one lay in bed nursing wounds. Remembering the scolding he’d received from Wang Shi, his cheeks burned.

“I’ve always kept Yaoming’s future in mind,” he said stiffly. “It’s just that things at home have been hectic this month. I’d been planning to consult Vice Minister Wang of the Ministry of Rites in a few days.”

“But it’s done now—and well done at that. The Censorate is a fine post. Tell Yaoming to do his best. If he ever needs guidance, he’s welcome to come to me.”

He managed to save some face, and the thought of having a Censor in the family helped soften his pride.

After all, it’s easy to celebrate success—but rare to lend a hand in hardship. Tang Yong understood that perfectly and couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction.

Unaware that his recent act had rattled both his father and brother, Tang Mo was now strolling the night market with Xin An. However, the market offerings were more or less the same as last time, so Xin An’s desire to shop had waned. Her appetite, however, had not. She wanted to try every snack that looked the least bit interesting—just a bite each time, leaving the rest for Tang Mo.

He ate from stall to stall until he finally groaned, “I can’t eat another bite.”

Tossing the food would be wasteful, and feeding the guards wouldn’t be appropriate.

“My lady, these snacks are all quite ordinary. Can we please stop?”

Xin An nodded cheerfully. Most of what they’d tried had been underwhelming anyway.

They were just about to head back when Tang Mo spotted someone. “That’s Liu Mingyuan—he’s with his wife at that vendor. Looks like they’re haggling.”

Xin An followed his gaze. “Yan Wenhui?”

“You know her?”

The moment he asked, Tang Mo realized it was a redundant question. In her past life as Marchioness, Xin An had forged connections with all the capital’s elite wives—how could she not know Yan Wenhui?

“I do,” she said, lips curling in a playful smile. Leaning closer, she whispered, “Now—take me to meet her.”

Tang Mo gave her a sidelong glance and grinned. “I was just thinking the same. Let’s go.”

At once, they turned with polished smiles and approached the couple. From three steps away, Tang Mo called out, “Brother Liu!”

“Second Brother Tang?” Liu Mingyuan was surprised. “What a coincidence.”

“My wife said the capital’s night markets are too fun,” Tang Mo replied with a laugh. “She didn’t get enough last time, so here we are again.”

He turned to Yan Wenhui and offered a bow. “Sister Yan.”

Yan Wenhui had met Tang Mo several times before and was reasonably familiar. “You’ve grown far more composed since getting married. Now, aren’t you going to introduce your wife?”

Tang Mo beamed and pulled Xin An forward. “This is my wife, her name is Xin An. I hope you’ll look after her.”

Xin An bowed gracefully. “Young Madam Liu.”

There had been much gossip in the capital about Tang Mo’s bride swap—from noble daughter to merchant’s girl. Many had pitied the change, Yan Wenhui included. But her brother had told her how much Tang Mo cherished this new wife, which piqued her curiosity.

She studied Xin An closely. Her features were radiant, and when she smiled, it was like sunlight breaking through clouds. Standing beside Tang Mo, they looked every bit the golden couple.

“You may call me Sister too, just like Tang Mo.”

Xin An obeyed smoothly and offered another bow. “Greetings, Sister Yan.”

Only then did Yan Wenhui’s gaze shift from Xin An’s face to her attire. One glance told her the outer robe was made of rare fangfang brocade.¹ Though she wore only three hairpins, one featured a jeweled butterfly—its pearl-tipped antennae swayed gently as it caught the light, perfectly matching the embroidered butterflies on her robe. The coordination was subtle, tasteful, and exquisite.

Such craftsmanship did not come cheap. The Xin family’s wealth was evident.

Liu Mingyuan, increasingly impressed with Tang Mo, sensed potential friendship. His wife, too, seemed intrigued. What new bride visits the night market twice in one month? Clearly, Xin An was no dull bird.

“They’re from your sister-in-law,” he told his wife. “Those little trinkets I brought back last time—Xin An gave them to me.”

Then he turned to Tang Mo and Xin An. “My wife was so taken with them, she insisted on visiting the market herself. There are plenty of fun places in the capital—next time you want to go out, take her with you.”

Yan Wenhui immediately understood his intention. Her gaze toward Xin An grew warmer. “Sister, you must come visit me sometime.”

1. A rare and luxurious traditional Chinese brocade distinguished by a satin base and evenly spaced, colorful squares woven into the fabric. Within these squares, elegant circular or oval designs—such as plum blossoms, magpies, flying phoenixes, or scenic landmarks —add both artistic charm and symbolic meaning. Once prized among the nobility, this luxurious fabric signified wealth, refinement, and elevated status.
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