“Miss…”

Song Wan had just risen when she saw Heng Zhi standing beside the embroidered couch with an unpleasant expression. Glancing at the silent, intimidated maidservants in the room, she asked with a smile, “Has something happened with the Young Master?”

“Last night, the Young Master had Ling Yun deliver his personal belongings to the Embroidered Smoke Pavilion. Early this morning, even his bedding and personal maidservants were moved there.”

“Miss…”

Heng Wu’s eyes reddened, tears as large as beans hanging in her eyes, yet she dared not cry.

“The Young Master… he’s bullying you too much.”

Her young miss was the one carried into the marquis estate in eight sedan chairs through the main gate as the legitimate wife, who had properly bowed to the ancestors and heaven and earth. The Song family hadn’t even fallen into decline yet—how dare the marquis estate humiliate them to this extent?

Though there were families in the capital that treasured their concubines like jewels, she had never heard of any household where the master refused to consummate his marriage with his legitimate wife for the sake of a concubine.

If word of this got out, outsiders would think her young miss had some terrible illness or was unbearably ugly.

“Miss, what does the Young Master mean by this? Is he guarding against you bearing the marquis estate’s eldest son, so as to make way for that little harlot’s child?”

“Miss…”

“Enough, Heng Wu, your clamor is giving me a headache.”

Song Wan smiled to soothe her, though her complexion was terribly ashen.

Heng Zhi’s eyes were also red, her voice carrying resentment: “That day in the palace, the Young Master clearly said he would consummate the marriage with Miss, even said he would hang up the Harmonious Immortals painting. What is he doing now? Did Concubine Lin say something to the Young Master to make him act this way?”

Xiang Cao bit her teeth and said, “This cannot continue. This servant will go find the Old Madam. If even the Old Madam doesn’t care, this servant will return to our estate today to find the Master…”

Xiang Cao was about to rush out when Song Wan called her back.

“What would you tell the Old Madam?”

“Must I have the Old Lady pressure him into consummating the marriage with me? Wouldn’t that be even more humiliating?”

“Miss, then what should we do now? If that little harlot bears a bastard eldest son, what will you do in the future?”

“A bastard eldest son still carries the word ‘bastard.’ At worst, we can adopt a child from the clan.”

Seeing both of them red-eyed, Song Wan smiled and said, “Do my hair and makeup. If we dawdle any longer, we’ll miss the appointed time.”

Four maidservants with eight rabbit-like eyes dressed her hair. Song Wan had been maintaining a smile, but noticing the several girls weren’t paying attention to her, her face finally revealed a trace of anxiety.

The books said: A husband is like heaven.

Heaven cannot be defied, a husband cannot be left—but they never explained what to do in a situation like hers.

Her mother had never taught her, and she dared not speak of these matters to her aunt. Though her father and brothers treated her extremely well, there was no precedent in the world for a daughter to return home and complain about bedroom matters.

She had married into the marquis estate wearing white mourning clothes. On her wedding day, no experienced woman had told her how to get along with her husband in the future. Everything could only depend on herself.

Song Wan looked at her reflection in the mirror and pressed her lips together slightly.

After finishing her toilette, Song Wan left the room with Heng Zhi and Heng Wu. Jiang Xingjian waited for her in the courtyard as usual, but for some reason, she suddenly recalled the scene from that day when she had taken the initiative to hold his hand, only to have it flung away.

The familiar sense of shame swept through her entire body. Song Wan felt her limbs stiffen and her throat tighten.

In her eighteen years of life, she had never felt such shame and self-loathing over her actions that day.

Walking to a position two steps behind Jiang Xingjian, Song Wan suppressed her voice and calmed her breathing, her heart full of discomfort.

“Husband, please go first.”

Observing the distance between them, Jiang Xingjian’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He took a step forward, and Song Wan hurriedly retreated a step.

Jiang Xingjian suddenly felt somewhat uncomfortable.

“You…”

“Grandmother is probably already waiting. It wouldn’t be good to delay.”

Having said this, she stood behind him. Jiang Xingjian remained silent for a moment, then turned and headed to Old Madam Jiang’s Fuhe Hall.

Though Song Wan now managed the estate’s tallies, the person who truly held power in the marquis estate was still Old Madam Jiang.

Matters that followed the estate’s established precedents could naturally follow the old rules, but issues like increasing servants’ monthly wages or allowing servants to return home still required Old Madam’s approval. Song Wan had given advance notice of these matters, but when it came to actual implementation, she still needed to report to Old Madam Jiang.

Going back and forth delayed considerable time. Jiang Xingjian accompanied her at the side, and seeing her speak until her mouth was dry, he casually handed her a cup of tea.

Looking at the man’s palm, Song Wan froze for a moment and did not reach out to take it.

Jiang Xingjian raised an eyebrow, thought for a moment, then placed the teacup on the tea table. Song Wan had no desire to drink, but seeing both Old Madam Jiang and Jiang Mother staring at her, her face flushed slightly as she picked it up and took a light sip.

“What are you thinking about? So distracted?”

Lin Jiayue saw that Jiang Xingjian had been absent-minded since returning from Fuhe Hall and couldn’t help asking.

Jiang Xingjian came back to himself, not mentioning that he found today’s Song Wan’s temperament strange and unfathomable.

“You’ve been holding account books and looking at them all morning. Is there some difficult matter? Why don’t you tell me, and I can offer you some ideas.”

Jiang Xingjian thought that she usually had some clever ideas, and wanting to humor her and pass the time, he roughly explained the recent situation in the estate to Lin Jiayue, also mentioning the results of Song Wan’s recent handling of matters.

After listening, Lin Jiayue took the account book and found a thin charcoal stick wrapped in several layers of cloth from the room, quickly calculating on the paper.

“My heavens, the marquis estate’s expenses now exceed its income. How can such meager income support such enormous expenses? If this continues, I’m afraid in just a few years the estate will be sitting idle and eating itself into destitution.”

Jiang Xingjian smiled faintly: “That is indeed the case.”

Lin Jiayue curved her lips slightly: “I have a way to turn losses into profits. Do you believe me or not?”

“You have a way?”

“Of course, but… I’m not telling you.”

Lin Jiayue tossed down the charcoal stick in her hand, smiling ambiguously: “Anyway, I’m not the one managing the marquis estate now. Since the Old Madam and Madam trust that person in the main courtyard so much, let her figure out a solution herself.”

Jiang Xingjian smiled faintly, saying nothing.

“What, you don’t believe I have a way to turn losses into profits? Or do you think Song Wan is doing very well?”

Her voice rose slightly, and Jiang Xingjian said, “Your illness hasn’t healed yet. Go rest some more.”

Lin Jiayue propped her chin with one hand, blinking her round eyes with a beaming smile as she looked at Jiang Xingjian: “Do you know what’s called ‘opening sources and regulating streams’?”

“‘A wise ruler must carefully nurture harmony, regulate its streams, open its sources, and measure these carefully in due time…'”

Jiang Xingjian put down the account book in his hand and asked, “These words come from Xunzi’s ‘Enriching the State’ chapter. Why suddenly bring this up?”

“…”

Lin Jiayue paused, somewhat surprised.

She had always thought “opening sources and regulating streams” originated from modern economics. Now hearing Jiang Xingjian say this, she felt rather embarrassed.

Then Lin Jiayue huffed: “You know it, but surely Song Wan doesn’t? If she knew, how could she come up with such a stupid method? Rather than regulating streams, it’s better to open sources. Moreover, look at her pitiful efforts to save three taels here and two taels there—when will that ever be enough to plug the holes in the marquis estate?”