After Qingmei left, Honghua still stood dazed in place, the small packet clutched tightly in her hand.

The cold night wind blew across her face, as though jolting Honghua awake. She lowered her gaze to the tiny packet, and suddenly, with a hardening of her heart and a clenching of her teeth, she had made her decision.

She told herself: it was only a packet of powder to induce miscarriage. The worst that would happen was that the child could not be saved — it wouldn’t actually kill anyone. If the Young Mistress was lucky and the Young Marshal came back, she could always try to conceive again.

As for herself, what lay ahead was boundless wealth and splendor. For that fortune, it was worth taking the risk.

Honghua pocketed the powder and walked quickly out of that small courtyard.

After returning to her own quarters, she didn’t forget to look around cautiously on all sides. Only when she was certain there was no sound and no one about did she open her door with relief.

What Honghua did not realize was that the moment she stepped inside, a figure came trembling out from the corner of the outhouse wall.

This young maid was Xiaojun, who shared a room with Honghua.

A little earlier, Xiaojun had seen Honghua wake up. When Honghua told her she was going to use the outhouse, Xiaojun had been on the verge of going back to sleep — but hearing Honghua mention it made her suddenly need to go as well. After Honghua left, she struggled with herself for a moment before finally getting up and pulling on her padded jacket. After all, no one wants to crawl out of a warm bed in the bitter cold.

But the moment Xiaojun stepped outside, she spotted Honghua sneaking off toward the small door. That door was normally guarded and no one else could get through — yet Honghua passed without any obstacle.

Driven by curiosity, Xiaojun followed — but could only trail her as far as the door’s edge. She dared not go outside, afraid that the guards would seize her.

Fortunately, on the other side of the door there was a small opening low to the ground that a dog might pass through. It was far too small for any adult, but Xiaojun was clever and resourceful. She crouched down and peered out through it. By the light of the moon, she could make out Honghua with another maid. The two exchanged a few words and then went off together.

After thinking it over for a long while, she finally remembered that the maid was one who served Qiucao.

Xiaojun knew that the Young Marshal’s side and Second Young Master’s side had never gotten along — the two were at each other’s throats, each trying to destroy the other in their struggle for power. That was why Er Yitai had been confined here.

If that was the case, why was Honghua in contact with Qiucao’s maid? That question put a large question mark in Xiaojun’s mind.

Honghua returned to the bedside to find Xiaojun gone. Her heart immediately seized with unease.

Just as she was about to go out to look for her, she saw Xiaojun come running in clutching her stomach. When she saw Honghua, she made a pained face. “Honghua, do you have any medicine for loose bowels?”

“You have loose bowels?”

Xiaojun nodded vigorously. “In the outhouse just now, I thought you were in the next stall — I called out a few times and got no response. So you’d already come back.”

Xiaojun groaned and whimpered. “It hurts so much.”

Honghua looked Xiaojun up and down. Seeing nothing unusual in her expression, the tension in her finally eased somewhat.

“Wait here — I’ll go get the medicine.”

Honghua turned to search for medicine, and Xiaojun, watching her back, let out a long, quiet breath of relief.

That night, in order to keep her act convincing, Xiaojun got up two or three more times and braved the bitter cold to run out to the outhouse — which left her tossing and turning the whole night without a good rest.

Xiaojun did not sleep well, and neither did Honghua. She lay awake all night, her mind filled with that packet of powder, until finally the rooster crowed at dawn and she managed to doze off for a brief while.

When she opened her eyes, Xiaojun was already gone from her side.

Honghua gave no thought to Xiaojun. This young maid was small and generally meek and quiet, always calling out “Honghua” in a respectful tone around her. What preoccupied Honghua was how to slip that powder into the nourishing soup.

Qingmei had told her to wait patiently — the rest would be arranged by Qiucao.

As it turned out, Honghua did not have to wait long before Nanny Wang came to find her in high spirits.

“Honghua, come give me a hand. Second Young Master is permitting Er Yitai to visit the Young Mistress again today. Let’s get the soup going quickly — it will be ready to drink by noon.”

Honghua saw how cheerful Nanny Wang was, and felt excited herself even as unease gnawed at her.

“Why are you still standing there? Go prepare the ingredients.” Nanny Wang noticed nothing unusual in Honghua, and went on talking to herself with enthusiasm. “I should put in extra red dates today.”

Pregnant women were most prone to anemia — extra red dates would be beneficial.

Honghua acknowledged the instruction and hurried to help Nanny Wang prepare the ingredients.

By noon, the soup was done. Nanny Wang said: “Er Yitai wants me to send it over while it’s still hot. Be careful not to spill it.”

Honghua looked at the clay pot and suddenly said: “Mother, the serving tray has gone missing — did you leave it somewhere?”

“Odd, I could have sworn I just saw it.”

“Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you.” Honghua suggested: “Could it be in Er Yitai’s parlor? Didn’t you go deliver sweet soup there earlier?”

“I’ll go have a look.” Nanny Wang instructed: “Don’t add any salt to the soup.”

“I know. Don’t worry.”

The moment Nanny Wang was gone, Honghua lifted the clay pot’s lid. She glanced about on all sides, and only after confirming no one was watching did she tip the powder — which had grown warm from being clutched in her palm — into the pot.

Once the powder was in, she stirred it gently with a ladle until evenly dissolved. After tasting a small mouthful and detecting no unusual flavor, she put the lid back on the clay pot with relief.

Meanwhile, Nanny Wang came hurrying back. “It wasn’t at Er Yitai’s place — it must still be in the kitchen. Let me look again.”

“Could it be in the supply cabinet over there?” Honghua helpfully suggested.

Nanny Wang opened the cabinet and sure enough found the tray inside. “Look at my memory — when did I put it there?”

She took it out, wiped it clean with a cloth, and Honghua had already picked up the clay pot and placed it on the tray.

“No need to come with me.” Nanny Wang said. “The Young Mistress likes her peace and quiet.”

Nanny Wang didn’t say it, and Honghua had no intention of going. She was guilty of what she had done — how could she bear to look the Young Mistress in the face?

After Nanny Wang left, Honghua went straight back to her room. Her heart was in turmoil, pounding frantically without stop.

Though she coveted wealth and splendor, she had never harmed anyone before. Though there was some fear in her heart, she felt no regret — when weighed against self-interest, the sacrifices of others were of no consequence.

Equally tense was Qiucao. Ever since she learned that Er Yitai had already gone to Shaolangyuan, she had been sitting on pins and needles — a restlessness thoroughly laced with intense excitement.

She had long found Yan Qing an eyesore. So when misfortune befell Yan Qing, she would be the first to applaud.

“Go and find out what’s happening.” Qiucao urged Qingmei beside her.

Qingmei was just about to go out when she heard voices outside.

A young maid dressed in plain clothes was saying something to the guard at the door, and in her hands she held a clay pot.

“Er Yitai is sending this to Qiucao.” This young maid was none other than Xiaojun.

The guard blocked her way. Xiaojun said: “I went with Er Yitai to deliver the nourishing soup to the Young Mistress. Er Yitai said Qiucao is pregnant right now and needs nourishment most of all, so she had someone set aside a pot for her. Please, Guard Brother, take this soup inside on Er Yitai’s behalf.”

The guard considered for a moment and reached out to accept it.

Xiaojun thanked him repeatedly before turning and leaving.

“Qiucao.” The guard brought the soup inside. “This is from Er Yitai.”

Qiucao stared at that pot of soup as though she were looking at a poisonous serpent. Her voice went sharp with agitation. “I don’t want it. Pour it out quickly.”

The guard was puzzled. “Er Yitai said it’s nourishing soup.”

“This is not nourishing soup.” Qiucao knew better than anyone what had been put into that soup — the kind of thing that, if a pregnant woman drank it, would kill both mother and child.

“I told you to pour it out. Did you hear me?” Qingmei snapped at the guard.

The guard gave a vague sound of acknowledgment and turned to go throw the pot away.

But he had not gone far when a severe voice rang out from the doorway: “Qiucao, this is soup that I had the servants brew all morning. Don’t go wasting my good intentions.”

Qiucao never expected to hear Er Yitai’s voice here. A flicker of uncertainty passed through her — hadn’t Er Yitai been confined to her courtyard? Why was she appearing here?

Right. Er Yitai was going to Shaolangyuan. And Shaolangyuan was separated from her quarters by only a small flower garden — on the way there, Er Yitai could pass through that garden, and she could pass by her courtyard as well.

Er Yitai had by now reached the courtyard gate. The guard posted there instinctively raised a hand to stop her. “Er Yitai, you may not enter here.”

“Stand aside.” Er Yitai knocked his hand away. “It is not your place to speak here.”

In ordinary times Er Yitai appeared composed and refined, but when she was truly roused, her brow would grow stern and her presence imposing — not unlike Shi Ting himself in bearing and demeanor. The guard she scolded was momentarily stunned. Seizing that instant of hesitation, Er Yitai and Xiaojun stepped inside the courtyard.

At the same time, Xiaojun reclaimed the tray from the guard’s hands.

“Oh, Er Yitai.” Qiucao quickly composed herself and went forward to meet Luo Huaimeng, performing a perfunctory bow. “If Er Yitai wanted to come see me, she could have given me some notice beforehand. This lowly person of mine hardly deserves Er Yitai’s personal visit.”

Luo Huaimeng looked at the woman before her. Her appearance was plain, but her eyes were full of calculation.

She had made her way from a minor maid all the way to being Shi Guang’s sole concubine — she had her own means, of course.

“You’ve been with child for about six months now, haven’t you?” Luo Huaimeng’s gaze fell on Qiucao’s belly, which had swelled into a noticeable mound. “As they say, a face reflects the heart — and likewise, children take after their mothers. Your child isn’t even born yet, and already you are so malicious. Are you not afraid that the child you bear will come to no good end?”

Qiucao smiled faintly. “Er Yitai, I truly don’t know what you are talking about. What does this have to do with my child, out of nowhere?”

Luo Huaimeng pointed at the clay pot in Xiaojun’s hands. “This is a nourishing soup that the servants brewed. If you have nothing to hide, drink it down.”