Qian Lan made a name for herself with a single performance at the Qian family’s birthday banquet.

Her name suddenly became the topic of conversation among the city’s prominent families — discussed over tea, over meals, in idle hours.

She was extraordinarily gifted in her own right, and with the Qian family as her backing, though she had never shown her face directly, her bearing and poise alone were enough for everyone to surmise that she must be a great beauty indeed.

“I hear that after that day, the Qian family’s threshold was nearly worn out by the feet of matchmakers.” Luo Huaimeng was guiding Yan Qing through her embroidery work. “The needle is going the wrong way here.”

Yan Qing quickly pulled out the stitches she had just made. “I think the Qian family did this deliberately.”

“Deliberately?”

“The Qian family deliberately had Qian Lan make an appearance at the birthday banquet, and then spread word that whoever married her would take away one-third of the family’s fortune. Naturally, those prominent families who care about wealth would be eager to seek her hand — and beyond that, she has real talent to her name.”

“And what was their purpose in doing all of this — simply to raise their daughter’s worth?”

“Raising her worth is one reason. Making a certain person anxious is another.”

“You mean the Marshal?”

Yan Qing set down her embroidery needle. “Mother, has the Marshal shown any unusual behavior lately?”

“I haven’t seen him for several days.”

“Shi Ting mentioned that after the Marshal entered Qian Lan’s courtyard that day, Master Qian stepped out and left them alone. That means at the time, it was only the Marshal and Qian Lan together in the room. What they said, what happened — we have no way of knowing.”

Yan Qing had barely finished speaking when Xiang Xiu’s voice came from outside: “Second Consort, the Marshal is here.”

The two women — mother-in-law and daughter-in-law — exchanged a look. Luo Huaimeng gave her a slight nod. “You should head back.”

Luo Huaimeng had a vague feeling that the Marshal’s visit at this hour was likely connected to the matter of Qian Lan.

Yan Qing encountered the Marshal in the courtyard and offered him a bow. He gave a brief sound of acknowledgment, his expression somewhat distracted. Ordinarily he was quite genial toward Yan Qing, but today there was little expression on his face at all.

When Luo Huaimeng saw him come in, she rose quickly. “Marshal, have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I’ll have a meal prepared.”

“Very well.”

The Marshal sat down at the dining table and waited as the Second Consort had food brought in. It was the evening meal hour, so the dishes came up quickly — soon three dishes and a soup were laid out on the table.

Luo Huaimeng ladled a bowl of soup for the Marshal. “Would you care for something to drink with your meal?”

The Marshal had high blood pressure, and unless at a formal engagement, he almost never drank at home. Luo Huaimeng had asked offhandedly, and was surprised when he agreed without hesitation.

She gave him a second glance, and silently sighed to herself.

The Marshal took a sip of the drink, his mood heavy. But since he said nothing, Luo Huaimeng asked nothing either — the two sat in quiet, eating without a word.

“Huaimeng.” The Marshal suddenly raised his head and looked at her. “There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

“The Marshal needn’t say such things. In this household, the Marshal has the final say on all matters. What would require consulting me?”

“I am only the one who manages the household on his behalf,” Luo Huaimeng said evenly. “The Marshal’s affairs are beyond my place to comment on. When a new mistress comes, even that role will have to be handed over.”

“The very thing I wish to speak of is the matter of a new mistress.”

An uneasy premonition stirred in Luo Huaimeng’s heart, though she remained perfectly composed. “Does the Marshal have a candidate in mind?”

“I do.” The Marshal seemed unusually self-conscious, something rarely seen in him. “There is one person in mind — I wanted to consult with you on the matter.”

“Why not speak with the Third Consort instead?”

“Linghua is with child. I don’t want to trouble her with these things.” The Marshal took another sip of his drink. “You have also met this person — at the Qian family birthday banquet recently.”

The Marshal’s words confirmed what Yan Qing had suspected. Luo Huaimeng pretended not to have guessed. “Is it Miss Qian Lan?”

“It is Qian Lan.”

“I see.” Luo Huaimeng smiled, though the smile was thin. “Does the Marshal not mind the difference in age? That Miss Qian is only twenty-four, after all.”

The unspoken implication was: you are old enough to be her father.

But the Marshal was entirely unable to detect the irony in Luo Huaimeng’s words. His mind was occupied by nothing but the enchanting image of Qian Lan.

He felt that Qian Lan was a gift left to him by Huiyuan — seeing her was like seeing Huiyuan herself.

The greatest regret of his life was that he had never brought Huiyuan home as his wife. He had assumed this regret would accompany him to the end of his days, yet heaven had seen fit to send Qian Lan into his path.

Qian Lan had been Huiyuan’s last disciple. She had shared with him countless small details about Huiyuan, and perhaps because of her years spent in Huiyuan’s company, Qian Lan’s every gesture and manner was strikingly reminiscent of Huiyuan.

Since returning from the Qian estate, the Marshal had been like a man afflicted with lovesickness — no appetite, no desire to eat or drink, unable to sleep at night. He had also had people look into the matter, and learned that the Qian family’s front door had been thronged with matchmakers, many of them from distinguished families.

This news made him more anxious and restless than ever, afraid that the Qian family might agree to one of those arrangements, cutting him off from Qian Lan entirely.

The tragedy of Huiyuan — he had no wish to see it repeated with Qian Lan.

“We were kindred spirits from the moment we met. I believe she will not concern herself with the question of age.” The Marshal’s tone was firm.

Luo Huaimeng thought to herself: so that day, when the Marshal and Qian Lan were alone together in the courtyard, she had already won him over completely — so thoroughly that he was now utterly bewitched by her.

“Since Miss Qian does not mind, and the Marshal has feelings for her, the Marshal need only make the decision himself. Wherever I am needed, I will do my utmost.”

The Marshal, moved, took hold of Luo Huaimeng’s hand. “Huaimeng, I know these years have not been easy for you. Rest assured — from now on, I will not allow anyone to wrong you. You have raised Shi Ting to be such an outstanding young man. You are a remarkable mother.”

Luo Huaimeng withdrew her hand without ceremony, having long since found the Marshal’s intimacies deeply distasteful. To her, he was nothing more than Shi Ting’s father — the master of this household. He was certainly not the man who held her heart.

The Marshal’s assurances were nothing more than his way of securing her full and devoted effort in managing his marriage arrangements.

“The Marshal is too generous. I am part of the Shi household — to serve the household is no merit worth claiming.”

The Marshal smiled with satisfaction. “I knew you were the most gracious of all.”

Luo Huaimeng laughed inwardly and coldly.

“Huaimeng, Linghua is with child — she should not be subjected to emotional disturbances. It would be better to keep this from her for now.”

“The Marshal need not worry. I will look after the Third Consort’s side of things.”

“Good.” The Marshal seemed to set down a weight he had been carrying. He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. Perhaps with one concern resolved, he helped himself to two cups of spirits and finished an entire bowl of rice.

Since falling ill, the Marshal had not had such a healthy appetite in a long while. Luo Huaimeng could see plainly that he was in genuinely high spirits.

Yet Luo Huaimeng herself felt no such cheer. Not quite sorrow either — but Yan Qing had been right. This Miss Qian was unlikely to be as straightforward as she seemed. Should she truly marry into the Shi household, she would surely stir up a storm of tremendous force.

But this was a decision the Marshal had made. As a concubine, she had no choice but to comply. What good would it do to object?

Shi Ting did not learn of the matter until he returned from the military police bureau that evening. Earlier, when Liu Yin had reported to him, he had already sensed that something was not quite right. Events had moved far more quickly than he had anticipated.

“The Marshal is now desperate to take Qian Lan as his wife,” said Yan Qing, preparing a basin of wash water for Shi Ting. “There is no one who could step in to stop him now.”

“Tomorrow I’ll have Zheng Yun look into Qian Lan’s background.” Shi Ting removed his jacket and hung it up, then walked to the washbasin in his shirt.

“Huiyuan is already gone. How would one even go about verifying whether Qian Lan was truly her disciple?”

Shi Ting cupped a handful of water and splashed it over his face, leaning over the basin as he said, “I think it is most likely true. Huiyuan may have died, but she spent all those years living in the Baiyun Convent, surrounded by everyone there — monks, nuns, staff. If Qian Lan wanted to fabricate an identity, there is no way she could have bought the silence of so many people. And even if she somehow managed it, a thorough investigation on our part would expose the cracks.”

“So she truly did have some connection to Huiyuan.”

“That much may be real. But she certainly is not the Qian family’s actual First Young Miss. That identity is simply the name the Qian family has given her to legitimize her standing — after all, one cannot walk into the Marshal’s household as someone with no background.”

“I also find it strange,” said Yan Qing. “The Qian family’s daughter went missing for over twenty years, and then suddenly, without any apparent cause, was found. Even in this entire country — let alone just in Shun Cheng — finding someone who disappeared twenty years ago would be utterly impossible.” She thought for a moment and said, “Madam Qian said the First Young Miss had a token from the time of her birth, and that is how she was identified. I refuse to believe the world holds such a coincidence.”

Shi Ting finished washing his face, and Yan Qing quickly handed him the towel.

“This Qian Lan and the Qian family — neither is simple.” He dried his face as he spoke. “Qian Lan’s reason for wanting to marry into the Shi household goes beyond simply becoming the Marshal’s wife.”

“I believe the same.”

“The Marshal is already utterly under her spell. If I tried to stand in the way, it would be impossible.” Shi Ting let out a quiet sigh. “Once the Marshal sets his mind on something, it is very difficult to change.”

“Meet force with force, and flood with earth. Whatever Qian Lan’s purpose may be, once enough time has passed, she will eventually reveal herself.”

Shi Ting gave the back of her neck a light pat. “With you here, she won’t be able to stir up much trouble.”

“You have that much faith in me?” Yan Qing blinked at him, a smile at the corner of her lips.

“Either way — have people keep a close watch on her. Prevention is better than cure.”

“Don’t worry. I know what to do.”

“Shall we retire for the evening?” A certain person’s face suddenly loomed large before her, his eyes shadowed with a fathomless depth of dark color.

Yan Qing pinched his nose. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What would I be doing — naturally, accompanying my wife to rest.”

Shi Ting raised an eyebrow, the picture of innocence.

Yan Qing thought: as if I believe that for a single moment.

Events proved her instinct correct. A certain person claimed he was merely keeping her company as she rested — and then gradually, the manner of that company shifted into something else entirely.

A night of vigorous activity meant that when Luo Huaimeng came by the following morning, Yan Qing had yet to rise from bed.

—