“I thought I was early, yet it seems everyone else arrived ahead of me.”
More guests entered just then—among them Tang Mo. He began exchanging courtesies as soon as he stepped inside, and the hall grew livelier.
Tang Mo had returned home expressly to change. Xin An had arranged new attire for him, and once he donned it, his back straightened, his bearing proud—utterly pleased with himself.
Yan Shimao laughed. “Second Brother Tang, you’re late. Did you go back to primp?”
“This outfit truly suits you—sets you off with uncommon dash.”
With decades more life experience than most here, Xin An naturally knew what styles would be fashionable in the years to come. The clothes she made for Tang Mo differed from his old brocade robes that hung loose and wrinkled easily. The fabric was different as well: it resisted creasing and held a crisp shape, making him look taller and more refined. The single drawback was poor ventilation—stuffy and warm.
But what is stifling heat compared with handsome poise?
Already proud, Tang Mo swelled further under Yan Shimao’s teasing. He snapped open his folding fan and struck a rakish pose. “What do you think? My wife made this herself—a style I’ve never worn before. Isn’t it strikingly distinct?”
Men seldom dwell on clothing at their gatherings, yet that hardly means they ignore it. At Tang Mo’s words, glances slid his way. Many agreed: his attire was indeed fine, with not a crease in sight, and the material looked novel.
Yan Shimao stepped forward. “”I’ll ask my wife to ask my sister-in-law for advice. We’re brothers, why should you alone enjoy the splendor?”
Just then Liu Mingyuan strolled over. Yan Shimao drew his attention to Tang Mo’s clothes. “His younger sister-in-law made them. Look how pleased he is. Still, Tang Mo truly cuts a figure today—he’s earned the right to preen.”
Liu Mingyuan smiled as he took measure of Tang Mo. Not long ago he had received the great scholar’s handwritten piece that Xin An sent, and he had tasted the rare Huai Jiang Silver-Flower tea. He now felt very well disposed toward the couple—especially Xin An—for her tact and generosity. With a few nudges from his wife besides, he was more than willing to give Tang Mo some face on such an occasion. He turned to Yan Shimao with a smile. “Tang Mo does look splendid today.”
“Invite sister-in-law to call, and ask Second Young Madam Tang for guidance. You’ll soon be just as splendid.”
Yan Shimao grinned, boasting that his wife had already met Xin An. “They got on famously. She wouldn’t stop praising the Xin younger sister after we returned. They’re likely together this very moment.”
At that time, the Heir of Prince Cheng’s household arrived, and the crowd paid their respects. Tang Mo’s new attire drew the eye; the Heir offered a few words of praise. Flattered, Tang Mo returned the courtesy in haste. He wondered if he had gone too high-profile today—then reminded himself that his situation had changed. He now had his wife’s support and his father-in-law’s golden mountain. Matters were far better than before.
Everyone present held some standing and possessed sharp eyes. Since the Heir had spoken to Tang Mo, whatever the reason, it was only prudent to echo him. In short order, more men gathered around Tang Mo to chat.
Someone edged in with a laugh. “If we’re to be handsome, let’s be handsome together. I may not match Second Young Master Tang’s looks, but the love of beauty is universal.”
“Hahaha—well said, well said.”
Tang Mo welcomed all comers. “I’ll have my wife arrange a gathering and invite the ladies of your households. She’s newly arrived in the capital and knows few people. I must ask your good wives to look after her.”
His cheer never lapsed, and his manners were in place. A few men began to reassess him. Tang Rong, meanwhile, felt a knot tighten in his chest. At banquets past, wherever he appeared, others faded to the margins. Since when had Tang Mo drawn so much attention? And when had the Heir of Prince Cheng ever gone out of his way to speak to Tang Mo?
Xin An’s efforts to befriend noble ladies were bearing fruit. To claim he felt no regret now would be a lie.
When the princes entered, the hall fell quiet at once. Guests rose swiftly to salute. Even if their features were unremarkable, the princes’ bearing set them apart—dragon-marked and phoenix-graced, while feigning modesty. Tang Rong adjusted his composure with all possible speed; cultivating ties with the princes would greatly benefit him.
When he saluted the Second Prince, he found the prince regarding him with an unreadable look—half-mockery, half-pity. Before Tang Rong could puzzle it out, the Second Prince was already speaking to Tang Mo. In the eyes of these princes, officials of Tao Daren’s rank were as common as cattle; their usefulness was limited, far less than a merchant of Xin Kuan’s stature.
Besides, the Tang family held little true power at court and had already lost their military command. Some in the army still recalled the old marquis with respect, but the old marquis was long gone, and the Tang clan had no successor in arms. Tang Gang was unfit for greater duty. Under such circumstances, Tang Mo, surprisingly, offered more value than Tang Rong.
Overwhelmed with delight, Tang Mo won the Second Prince’s favor in a handful of lines and soon stood at the prince’s side. He was already planning how he would boast to Xin An later. The future Son of Heaven spoke to me first—what an honor!
The way his pride all but curled like a peacock’s tail made Tang Rong’s expression darken. Tang Mo met his gaze, and his heart roared: I’m snatching your limelight, brazenly and in broad daylight. What can you do about it?!
Such naked provocation made Tang Rong clench his fists and drag in a hard breath. He did not yet know that his reputation had been plummeting ever since the bridal-chamber blunder—a decline helped along by the whispers Wang Shi had set afloat. The truth of the “wrong door” was bound to surface; who learned it, and when, was carefully chosen.
The goal: a small circle, a heavy blow.
Then came Tao Yiran’s display today, and the couple’s name suffered further—though they themselves remained unaware.
At dusk, Wang Shi and Xin An went to take their leave of the hosts. The Old Madam, after a day of happy bustle, was growing weary.
“Young Madam, Second Young Master says he’ll return later. Please don’t wait on him.”
Most of the men hadn’t come at noon; by evening they would surely drink deep. Xin An nodded. “Tell him not to overindulge.”
One by one they departed. Xin An supported the Old Madam as they left the residence. Arrival had been congested; departure proved worse. Carriages and horses jammed the approach to the Duke of En’s gates. Some poor beast, unable to hold it, left a heap in the road, and the cleaners were run ragged. They wished only for these eminent guests to be on their way.
By the time they reached the Marquis’s Residence, night had settled. Once inside, Wang Shi asked Xin An to escort the Old Madam back to Spring Glory Hall, then summoned Tao Yiran to accompany her. Tao Yiran had flouted decorum by upstaging a young lady of the Count of Changning’s household before a crowd, forcing Wang Shi to spend half the afternoon smoothing matters with the count. If she said nothing now, Tao Yiran’s display would go unchecked.
“Do you recognize your fault today?”
She opened with that. Tao Yiran gave a proper curtsey. “Mother, pray set your anger aside. Your daughter-in-law failed to think things through.”