After calming herself, Wang Shi reviewed the facts and suddenly everything about Tao Yiran’s mannerisms fell into place. She truly was the legitimate daughter of an official house—but raised under the influence of an elder of disgraceful origins, taught the arts of flattering and ensnaring men.
Tang Gang paced the floor with his hands clasped behind his back, still unwilling to believe the Old Madam of the Tao household could have such a background. He clung to a thread of hope. Wang Shi sat beside him and gave him no room for that hope. She said plainly, “What well-bred new bride would summon her husband away from a public occasion because of a little discomfort? Summon him away—how would that cure an illness?”
“When fainting and palpitations become a habit—now a headache, now chest pain—aren’t those the very tricks of vying for favor? The Marquis should not be ignorant of such arts.”
Stung by her mockery, Tang Gang halted and looked at her, unable to protest. A black cloud seemed to settle over him. This… he sighed. Now that matters had reached this point, there was little left but to accept it. He knew the Countess of Changning would not speak so recklessly if there were no truth to it. “How come you didn’t find out about this before? If you had known…”
At such a time he still sought to shift responsibility. Wang Shi would not let him off. She scoffed: “Do you suppose I, a woman of the inner household, could easily pry out such secrets? Are you not the one always traveling in court, with countless acquaintances—yet none had the kindness to tell you?”
She added, “And one more thing—you say she once attempted the Second Prince and was rebuked by the Second Princess. Think on that as well.”
Tang Gang could offer no reply. Wang Shi continued her barbs. “Now the matter has come to light; once it’s known to be filth, you must swallow it down. It’s nauseating—yet you’ll have to plaster a smile and pretend it tastes sweet. If only we had let her keep pretending to be ill; it would have spared her the public disgrace.”
“The Countess of Changning is hard to deal with and holds grudges. I do not know whether she might spread this tale further.”
A dark satisfaction crept into Wang Shi’s mind. The proud families of rank cared most for face. They demanded much of a chief daughter-in-law, who would one day preside as mistress of the household. For people of less illustrious birth—those who made connections in society could easily run into brick walls. The true elite barely deigned to notice them. If Tao Yiran’s lowborn origins were made public, who could say how completely she might be ostracized?
She longed to see how Tang Gang would manage to smooth over the scandal for his fine son—once the rumor spread, Tang Rong would be covered in filth, scrubbed or no.
Tang Gang felt as though he had already swallowed excrement. He pictured the mocking laughter of his colleagues once the truth leaked. The Tang family had never possessed deep roots; to be publicly linked with such a household would be a blow to their standing.
“Send someone to the Tao household again tomorrow,” he said. “Tell them you learned some inside matters today at the Countess of Changning’s and that you are shocked and gravely worried. If the rumor spreads widely, it will harm both households. Ask them to soothe the Countess.”
He hesitated, then decided, “I’ll have Steward Zhang go in person.”
Why should his marquisate be left to clean up the Taos’ mess? If the Tao family could not contain it, he could simply replace his daughter-in-law. His son, a figure of refined virtue, should wed a girl from a prominent family—one befitting their station. There were no old-match constraints from the late Lord to bind him this time.
Once the thought took hold, he could not suppress it. His anger drained away and his mind filled with plans to find a new daughter-in-law.
“See to it.” He would not sleep. He called for a maid standing watch; before she could answer, Tang Gang spoke: “Go and see whether the heir has returned. Tell him to come to the study.”
Wang Shi watched his face—there was a flash of resolve. Curious, she asked, “Have you decided on a course of action?”
He did not reply. Throwing on a coat, he prepared to leave. “Wife, you should rest. There’s no need to wait up.”
At the door he paused, turned, and added, “Do not tell my mother. I’d spare her the worry.”
Then he went out. Wang Shi was uneasy and could not sleep. She summoned a trusted attendant and whispered a few words; only then did she let Tang Gang depart.
That night Tang Rong came home reeking of wine. He lodged in Aunt Yue’s room at Spring Splendor Courtyard. When Tang Gang’s men sent for him, he was still lingering there—he came out slowly, and his mood was already sour. When Tang Gang laid the truth before him, Tang Rong felt as if he had been struck by five thunderbolts.
He had been to pleasure houses before and had shown courtesy to the women there, even praised some of their talents. But admiration confined to the pleasure quarter was one thing; bringing such a woman back to the family was unthinkable. He was to be the next Marquis of Wei Yuan—his reputation could not be tarnished for a moment.
Now his father told him that the wife he had painstakingly won had elders who had earned their living in such ways and had personally taught her; worse, she had once entangled the Second Prince.
“Father—surely there is a mistake?” Tang Rong’s gut turned to bile.
Tang Gang understood his son’s shock. “Even if your mother dislikes you, she would not invent such lies. The Countess of Changning would not fabricate this. Tomorrow I will have someone discreetly verify it. But whether true or false, you must treat it as a matter to be dealt with.”
“Words once cast into the world harden like metal. Once filth has been splashed on a person, it does not wash away.”
“You must now decide how to handle this.”
Tang Rong could not think of any handling—only of collapse. If the rumor leaked he would be the capital’s laughingstock. No wonder the Second Prince had looked at him as he did at the En Guo Duke’s—he must have thought Tang Rong a joke.
And Tang Mo—if his mother knew, Tang Mo would surely learn too.
Tang Gang sighed. “Now that things have reached this stage, the Tao daughter remaining at your side is a time bomb. Sooner or later it will explode. It’s a pity.”
We should never have had the doctor called in to confirm her weakness and then sent the news to the Tao household—thus affirming her frailty. It would have been better had she remained quietly ill and never left the courtyard.
But the opportunity was lost; there was no turning back.
“You are the heir to the Wei Yuan marquisate; your future depends on a wife of a household that can help you rise. Our family’s crest was earned by your grandfather’s military merit; it cannot suffer tarnish. Think carefully on this matter.”
Tang Rong raised his eyes—an expression of calm blankness—and then lowered them again. For a long time the study fell silent; father and son sat without a word.
Before long Wang Shi learned the gist of their private talk. She nodded as if nothing had happened, then retired to bed. Nearly twenty years of marriage had left her with little idea that the man who seemed so placid could be so ruthless beneath the surface.
For the sake of his eldest son, he was prepared to take extreme measures. Who could say he lacked resolve?
Indeed—it was a parent’s fierce love for her child.