These days, Tang Mo held nothing back in front of Xin An. Soon, he explained exactly how he came to know Wang You.
Three years ago, Wang You had come to the marquisate seeking assistance, but the gatekeepers refused to let him in. By coincidence, Tang Mo happened to be returning at the time. With his own agenda in mind, he intercepted Wang You and began building a quiet relationship. The two had kept in touch ever since.
“Anyone would’ve snapped up those four storefronts the moment word got out. If not for what I knew behind the scenes, do you think I’d have gotten the chance?”
Xin An suddenly understood. She had been wondering why the Wang family never approached the marquisate, and why someone like a fifth-rank military officer hadn’t turned to Tang Gang. So they had tried—and Tang Mo had intercepted them.
“So what’s the situation now? They need money?”
“They do.”
Tang Mo sighed. “Old Master Wang passed a few years ago, and now Wang You is in charge. With no wars recently, there’s no money flowing. A general’s salary isn’t enough to support all those people. Now his son is getting married, and his daughter needs a dowry. They even have to renovate the house. He had no choice but to sell the shop.”
“One coin can bring down a hero. Even at twenty percent above market, his son still came to tell me in person. You could see how bitter he felt. But I’m no rich man either—there’s only so much I can do.”
The shops were excellent. So why didn’t he buy them himself? Because taking on four prime properties at once was a financial strain even for him. He let Xin An have the opportunity instead.
“Well? I’ve arranged to sign the paperwork with them shortly. Want to come?”
“I’ll pass.”
She really didn’t feel like going out again. Instead, she fetched some silver notes and handed them to Tang Mo.
“You take care of everything.”
He counted them and noticed an extra hundred taels. “A finder’s fee for me?”
“A gift for the Wang family.”
Xin An instructed, “Make sure they know it came from me—but there’s no need to make it public.”
“You’re trying to win the Wangs over?”
“What, worried I’ll compete with your business?”
Tang Mo grinned. “Think I’m opening my own firm? Please.”
Laughing, he tucked the notes into his robe. “Then I’m off. Don’t wait for me for dinner.”
Watching his retreating figure, Xin An smiled. She had to admit—Tang Mo was far more capable than Tang Rong. If he wanted something, he pursued it directly. He didn’t dance around, expecting others to act for him. His foresight in courting the Wang family had saved her no small trouble.
Clearly, she’d have to interrogate him tonight—who knew what else he was hiding from her?
On the way to dinner in the front hall, Xin An once again crossed paths with Tang Rong. They walked in together. Before long, word had reached Tao Yiran that Tang Rong had given Xin An pastries—personally delivered, no less. And it was Liu Nanny herself who confirmed it.
Tao Yiran frowned. “You must have heard wrong.”
But Liu Nanny insisted. “I overheard the maids from Autumn Harvest Courtyard gossiping myself. The heir didn’t even avoid others—he gave her pastries openly. And—”
“Enough,” Tao Yiran said, no longer in the mood to eat.
Liu Nanny continued, recounting how Tang Rong had struck up conversation with Xin An these past few days. It wasn’t out of paranoia—if it had been any other brother- and sister-in-law, a few words or some pastries wouldn’t have mattered. But this was different. Tang Rong and Xin An had once bowed to Heaven and Earth together—only one step away from being husband and wife.
“By rights, they should avoid suspicion. The wedding is barely a month past. If word got out, it wouldn’t reflect well. Today, both his return home and the dinner—he was with Second Young Madam the entire time.”
Tao Yiran clutched her chest. It genuinely felt hard to breathe. Just imagining them exchanging glances was suffocating. Knowing they were still sitting at the same table made her head ache even more.
“Go call the heir back. Tell him I’m unwell.”
Liu Nanny advised against making a scene. These things needed to be handled gradually. But Tao Yiran couldn’t accept it. The thought of them chatting happily, while she stewed in shame, was unbearable.
She insisted. And so, just a few bites into his meal, Tang Rong found Liu Nanny at the door, saying Tao Yiran was feeling ill. Tang Gang’s anger flared at the interruption. After Wang Shi inquired about her symptoms, she instructed him to go back.
“If she needs a physician, call one. If that doesn’t work, use your father’s credentials to summon an imperial doctor from the palace.”
What could Tang Rong say?
With a look of helpless guilt, he rose and excused himself, returning to his courtyard full of suppressed frustration.
Xin An, meanwhile, kept eating calmly. She didn’t say a word.
After dinner, Tang Gang retired to his study. Wang Shi and Xin An chatted briefly before each went off to rest.
Back in Autumn Harvest Courtyard, Chunlu came in to report, “Young Madam from next door has been crying—quite hard, too.”
Xin An was in excellent spirits. And this is just the beginning. If she’s already crying now, what will she do later?
In her past life, Tao Yiran had always found excuses to summon Tang Rong—like he was some miracle healer whose mere presence could cure anything.
The wheel really has turned.
In Spring Blossom Courtyard, Tao Yiran was still in tears, her face streaked like a rain-drenched blossom.
“You’ve trampled my dignity into the mud!” she cried. “I already can’t lift my head in front of her, and yet you joke and laugh with her—bringing her pastries. Have you come to regret it?”
Tang Rong burned with irritation. He’d never expected that the elegant, sensible Tao Yiran would show this side of herself. Nor could she understand the pressure he was under.
He forced patience into his voice. “I saw her on the road—we exchanged a few words. We live in the same residence. Should I treat her like an enemy? Pretend we don’t know each other?”
“I didn’t sneak around. Everything was out in the open. Why would you even think such things?”
Seeing he was still taking that tone, Tao Yiran only cried harder. Tang Rong, in turn, grew more and more agitated—now filled with regret. The woman before him was nothing like the Tao Yiran he had imagined.
He had thought her elegant, accomplished, and surely clever. With decent family background, she would bring him face and status, and once married, would surely be an asset. Who could have guessed it would turn out like this?
“We’re husband and wife. You should trust me—not listen to gossip from the servants. I haven’t done anything to wrong you. Think it over.”
With that, he stormed off to sleep in the study.
Tao Yiran sobbed even harder—this time, she might truly fall ill.
Xin An didn’t know the details of their argument, but upon hearing that Tang Rong had gone to sleep in the study, she was positively delighted.
Those two are the highlight of my otherwise boring life.
When Tang Mo returned, the first thing he saw was her grinning.
“What’s got you so happy?”
“Come quick,” she said, beckoning. “I have something amusing to tell you.”
Tang Mo sat down on the edge of the bed. Xin An recounted the events next door like a comedy sketch. He quickly caught on.
“You did it on purpose, didn’t you? That news—wasn’t it you who made sure she heard it?”
“See? That’s why I say you’re clever.”
Xin An was pleased with herself. “You don’t know how much I suffered before—how many times I was dragged into this nonsense. No matter the place, no matter the occasion, she’d send someone to call him away. Sometimes even in the dead of night! Like some grieving widow who couldn’t live without her brother-in-law. I can’t tell you how many times I nearly exploded with rage.”
“Good thing you died early,” she added with a smirk. “Otherwise, I would’ve been the one to kill you in the end.”
“I’m telling you—this was just the appetizer. Once I’m in the mood, I’ll serve her the full banquet.”
Tang Mo’s face darkened. What misfortune have I brought upon myself?
He sat there, visibly bitter. “How did I end up in the hands of not one, but two of you women?”
Translator’s Note:
The original chapter title is a Chinese proverb meaning “Fortune shifts in cycles” or “The wheel of fate turns for everyone.” It conveys the idea that status and power are not permanent—those once favored may fall, and the overlooked may rise.