Tao Yiran looked listless and dispirited. It wasn’t hard to understand why—she disliked rising early for morning greetings, had no patience for flattery, no desire to curry favor, and loathed being forced to do things she did not enjoy. Yet Tang Rong insisted upon it time and again, and even her own mother pressured her constantly. How could she possibly be in good spirits?
Lifting her eyes, she caught sight of Xin An dressed in lavish finery—bright reds and vivid greens, every inch adorned with jewelry, as though afraid others might not see how wealthy she was. To Tao Yiran, it looked utterly vulgar. She quietly took a step back, as if merely standing close to Xin An might infect her with the stench of money.
Xin An rolled her eyes inwardly and shifted sideways as well—she feared that if she stood too close, she might not be able to restrain herself from striking the woman.
Wang Shi arrived.
Tang Rong and the others stepped forward to pay their respects. Wang Shi acknowledged them with a brief “Mm,” her gaze settling on Tao Yiran.
“You’ve had some time to rest these past days—are you feeling better?”
Tao Yiran replied with a perfunctory “Mm. Much better.”
“You are the principal wife of the eldest grandson of the Marquis household—the wife of the heir. You carry the duty of continuing the family line upon your shoulders. Morning and evening greetings are trivial matters by comparison. That responsibility must never be neglected.”
“If you’re unwell, tend to it quickly. Above all, your health must come first.”
Her eyes shifted subtly to Tang Rong. “Your wife doesn’t look especially well. I’ve heard she’s been delicate since birth. As her husband, you ought to be more attentive. She mustn’t go without the necessary tonics. Childbearing is a trial; without a sound constitution, it simply won’t do. You must be mindful of this.”
No pressure was greater than that which came from one’s own parents when urging for heirs.
Tang Rong cupped his hands. “Thank you for the reminder, Mother. Your son understands.”
Tao Yiran also lowered herself into a graceful curtsy. “Your daughter-in-law understands as well.”
“Mm.” Wang Shi offered a faint smile. “There is much to be done today, so I won’t keep you for breakfast. The hour is still early—you may return and rest a bit longer.”
And who could say she wasn’t the very image of a tolerant and affectionate stepmother?
Tang Rong had originally intended to stay and hear what business might be discussed that morning, but with Wang Shi’s words ending as they did, he could only take Tao Yiran and leave.
Once outside, Tao Yiran let out a breath of relief. She made up her mind that next time she came, she would somehow coax Wang Shi into saying she ought to rest more and was exempt from morning and evening greetings.
“Mother is so kind and thoughtful—every word she said made perfect sense. My health really has been delicate of late, so today I’ve called for my usual physician to examine me. I do hope to recover quickly and ease your burdens.”
Tang Rong felt a flicker of doubt, though beneath it bloomed joy. Still, it didn’t sound like something Tao Yiran would normally say. She lowered her voice and added, “Since I’ve married you, it’s only right I act as your good wife. These past few days—just think of them as my foolishness. I didn’t yet know how to be a proper spouse.”
They had quarreled over this more than once, and Tang Rong had harbored lingering resentment. But hearing her say this now warmed him again. He grasped her hand. “Then it’s my fault for not being more attentive. I’ll send someone to fetch the doctor right away. We’ll have your health restored.”
Tao Yiran replied that she had a trusted physician already. “He’s treated me for years and knows my ailments well. Whenever I feel unwell, his medicine always helps. I’ll have Nanny Liu bring him later.”
That a doctor who had been treating her for years could leave her still this frail should have raised questions—but Tang Rong noticed nothing amiss. He even added, “If you need rare and precious tonics, we can ask Mother to open the storerooms. No matter the cost, I’ll get you whatever it takes to nurse you back to health.”
Tao Yiran’s eyes gleamed with coy affection. “Rong-lang, you’re the kindest to me.”
Tang Rong’s face had mostly recovered, and his handsome features were returning. Looking at him now, Tao Yiran once again found him pleasing to the eye.
What she did not know, however, was that her scheming was more or less unnecessary. Wang Shi herself had no desire to see her either—and from this day forth, she would use Tao Yiran’s recovery and the importance of childbearing as excuses to quietly confine her to her courtyard, fulfilling her very own wishes.
At that moment, Wang Shi was in the side hall listening to the stewards’ reports—updates on staffing and upcoming affairs. Xin An sat beside her, observing the proceedings with a faint sense of nostalgia.
“There’s one more thing to announce, beyond what we’ve already discussed,” Wang Shi said at last.
She lifted a hand toward Xin An, who rose and stepped forward to stand by her side.
“From today onward, the Second Young Madam will assist in managing the household. Whenever I am away or unwell, and unable to oversee the inner court, you may report directly to her. Her word carries the same weight as mine. Obey her without question.”
All those present bowed in acknowledgment. From that moment on, Xin An’s status within the residence had irrevocably changed.
After the gathering dispersed, Wang Shi rose and invited Xin An to stay for a meal.
“Enjoy yourself when you’re out today—there’s no need to rush back,” she added.
In Wang Shi’s eyes, this was Xin An’s first time venturing out to socialize with the ladies of the capital. She was a little uneasy and couldn’t help but offer extra instructions—from how to sit and drink tea, to what kind of topics were appropriate for conversation. These were all things Xin An in her previous life had never experienced.
“Thank you for your guidance, Mother.”
Wang Shi smiled. “It’s hardly guidance. Your Xin family is a prominent household in Huai Jiang—you’re not lacking in propriety. I’ve found your manners in social dealings to be quite fine. It’s just that customs differ slightly between regions—so do keep an eye out, that’s all.”
The two women chatted for a good while. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Xin An, now freshly dressed again, set out with Chunyang and Nanfeng.
The Da Qian Empire was flourishing—its streets bustled with life. Occasionally, one could spot faces from distant lands weaving through the crowds. The avenues were clean, orderly, and lined with the signs of prosperity.
Roughly two incense sticks’ time later, the marquisate’s carriage arrived at Baoyin Theatre. Upon stepping down, Xin An learned that Yan Wenhui had yet to arrive. The private viewing box, however, had already been reserved. The theater staff, full of enthusiasm, led them upstairs, and soon tea and refreshments were served.
The performance hadn’t begun yet. On stage, warm-up actors were singing earnestly, and from time to time, applause rang out.
“Greetings, Madam.”
A cheerful theater attendant approached with a basket in hand. “Today’s performance is a new play, The Fox Spirit’s Gratitude, staged by our very own Master Fang and Master Qin—two of Baoyin’s top stars. The audience has found it exquisite. Would you like to buy some fortune flowers to join in the fun?”
Inside the basket were silver paper flowers, folded into triangular shapes. According to custom, patrons who enjoyed a performer’s act could pin these flowers to the actor’s costume—a personal token of appreciation.
“You’ve brought them—then leave them all.”
The attendant beamed. After Qingyang confirmed the price and paid the amount, the man withdrew happily.
“People in the capital really know how to make money,” Qingyang grumbled. “This tiny basket costs ten taels of silver.”
Nanfeng replied, “Anyone who can sit in one of these private boxes doesn’t care about ten taels. These theater hands are sharp—they know how much is just enough to ask. Notice how he doesn’t even bother selling these to the crowd below?”
Xin An laughed. “Qingyang, have you forgotten? The theaters in Huai Jiang are even more ruthless.”
Qingyang thought for a moment, then chuckled sheepishly. “Truly, the capital runs by strict rules.”
Curious, Nanfeng turned to Qingyang, who explained that in Huai Jiang, there were many theater troupes and even more wealthy patrons. Tips were handed out as silver notes directly. “Some performers who sing well leave the stage with their heads covered in silver bills.”
“The more famous ones even tuck them into their belts.”
Nanfeng tilted her head, picturing the scene—and suddenly, the ten-tael basket in front of her didn’t seem so outrageous after all.
From their private box, they had a clear view. Xin An spotted Yan Wenhui coming up the stairs, preceded by a young lady dressed like a proper wife, and followed by another well-groomed young madam—likely the friend she had mentioned.
“The one in green, walking in the middle, is Madam Yan. Remember her faces well.”
Chunyang and Nanfeng responded awkwardly. Nanfeng in particular felt a pang of guilt. She had come along to assist the young madam—and yet here she was, needing the young madam to introduce people to her. She couldn’t help but feel sheepish.