The Xie family was a prestigious household that placed great importance on rules and etiquette. Everything, from meals to sleeping arrangements, followed strict protocols. As a result, Qingyuan felt quite constrained during the meal.
Xie Shu, however, remained his usual self. Though he showed some embarrassment during their initial meeting, he soon felt at ease. After all, she was his daughter. Despite allowing her to remain estranged all these years and never considering bringing her back, the bond between father and daughter was thicker than water—how could there be such deep hatred? Now that his child was before him, even though their relationship was rocky, it had finally been mended. Looking at Qingyuan’s face, he was reminded of her mother. Her mother was Jin Chunqing, a gentle and graceful southern beauty, who had once been his sole reason for eagerly returning home each day.
But later… later, too many things changed. He became busy with official duties and neglected his household, not knowing how everything had become what it was. After the loss of life, no amount of denial could make his actions less detestable. He had truly loved her mother then; precisely because of that love, his overwhelming disappointment turned into intense hatred. He didn’t want to remember her face, didn’t want to pass by the courtyard where she had lived, didn’t want to accept the child she had borne… Now, as time had passed, even that hatred had faded into melancholy. When the Old Madam repeatedly mentioned in her letters that the household was unsettled and wanted to bring the Fourth Miss back, he had nothing to say against it—whatever the Old Madam decided was fine. After all, one more mouth to feed wouldn’t burden the household; as long as there was peace in the family, what else mattered?
He scooped a spoonful of white dragon soup and placed it in the lotus-leaf cup before Qingyuan. “This is made from fresh perch caught this morning. It’s very delicious—have some more.”
Qingyuan leaned forward on her stool and said, “Thank you, Father.”
If not for his past negligence, this gesture alone would have made Xie Shu a good father. Unfortunately, since her return to the Xie family, every moment made her feel like she was in an unfathomable den of wolves and tigers. Even in such ordinary interactions, she had to remain vigilant, wondering what kind of schemes and tricks awaited her next.
She had hoped to use today’s opportunity for him to mention her mother, giving her a chance to speak up for her mother’s wrongful death. However, until the end of the meal, neither the Old Madam nor the Master brought it up. It was as if that person had never existed, and she had appeared out of nowhere, a stray child picked up by the Xie family.
“Let bygones be bygones,” was what the Old Madam said most often. “A harmonious family prospers in all matters. We are an eternally close family, and even when we descend to Yellow Springs, we’ll all be registered under the same surname in King Yama’s ledger. Remember this point, and you won’t go wrong in this life.” The Old Madam then said to Xie Shu, “I’ve been observing quietly for two months, and of all four girls, Qingyuan resembles you the most. They say dragons beget nine different types of offspring—the eldest is timid, the second is reckless, the third is somewhat harsh due to her mother’s influence, but the fourth is clever and calculative. I favor her the most in my heart. However, the poor child will inevitably face some burdens. Master, you should pay more attention to her future and find her a good marriage, so as not to waste this father-daughter relationship.”
Xie Shu agreed compliantly, but Qingyuan didn’t feel such instructions would bring her any practical benefit. Setting aside that the Master didn’t manage household affairs, even if he truly took her to heart, it would likely be mainly to smooth his official career path. As they had mentioned before… she couldn’t help but shudder. If they were to use her to fill that void, no matter how capable she was, her life would be steeped in bitterness, suffering to her very core. Throughout history, those used as pawns for currying favor never met good ends. She had heard of the Palace Guards Department; besides being responsible for palace security, it also managed nationwide surveillance matters. When power reached a certain level, those who deceived both superiors and subordinates, covering heaven with one hand, didn’t view people as living beings. Even if one truly wanted to live a normal life, the path ahead would inevitably be full of crises and disasters.
However, thinking from another perspective, perhaps her awkward status might help her avoid such a fate. This thought gave her some relief, and as the Old Madam spoke, she just listened with a smile, finally responding, “Granddaughter has just returned home and wishes to stay for a few more years to properly care for Grandmother and Father.”
These were all superficial pleasantries—she was willing to say them, and the Old Madam was willing to hear them, saying with a smile, “How could that be reasonable? Delaying children’s prospects, who would that benefit?”
Xie Shu didn’t say much, probably still troubled by official matters, which made the Old Madam somewhat dejected. Everyone fell silent for a moment. After clearing the table and serving fresh tea, the Old Madam consoled him: “Don’t worry. In all our years of establishing this household, we surely have some connections we can use. Later, I’ll write a letter to your uncle—he’s closer to the powerful officials in the capital. I’ll ask him to mediate. How can a living person be trapped by mere obstacles?”
Old Madam Xie came from a military family background, and sometimes her speech wasn’t particularly refined, but it was pointed. Xie Shu sighed continuously: “I’m almost fifty years old, yet still causing Mother to worry about me…”
The Old Madam said, “Even if you live to be a hundred, you’re still my son. Our Xie family’s reputation rests entirely on your shoulders. Those two branches have long since split off—the West Branch still has some merit to speak of, but the East Branch is as messy as a dirty cat; we can’t count on them. If I don’t arrange things for you now, who will? Set your mind at ease. If the Emperor doesn’t look favorably upon you, he’ll still consider our ancestral merits. We’ll have room to maneuver one way or another.”
Xie Shu agreed, and after drinking tea and resting a while, he finally took his leave from the Old Madam’s chambers.
Qingyuan accompanied him out of Huifang Garden. They were supposed to part ways at the moon gate, one heading east and the other north. Xie Shu walked hurriedly, but Qingyuan called out “Father,” making him stop and turn around, asking, “What is it?”
A fourteen-year-old girl’s face always carries an innocent expression that makes people feel she is harmless, even triggering a father’s tenderness toward his youngest daughter. She held her handkerchief, standing straight-backed, and asked with a smile, “Father, did you ever suspect that my concubine mother was framed?”
Xie Shu was taken aback, clearly somewhat impatient with this topic, but considering her young age, he suppressed his temper and said, “A daughter concerned about her birth mother is natural human emotion. After all, what your mother did has damaged your reputation, but I won’t blame you for asking me this. About what happened back then, you don’t know the circumstances—both witness testimony and physical evidence were present, there’s nothing more to say. You’re still young; how could you understand adult matters? From now on, focus on your studies, and your grandmother and mistress will take care of everything for your future. You’re a young lady in the inner quarters—focus on your accomplishments in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Don’t ask about anything else; that’s what being a proper young lady means.”
After saying this, he quickly headed toward the bamboo grove, leaving Qingyuan standing there, suddenly understanding her mother’s despair at that time.
The truth wasn’t difficult to uncover—it all depended on whether people were willing to do so. What did it matter to sacrifice two concubines? They were insignificant people whose deaths or dismissals wouldn’t damage the foundation. But if they were to touch the main wife, half of the Xie family’s reputation would collapse. The weight of these matters needed no further consideration.
Baoxian knew she was heartbroken and linked arms with her, saying softly, “Miss, we anticipated this outcome earlier—you promised me you wouldn’t take it to heart.”
Qingyuan finally came to her senses and nodded, saying, “How did I suddenly become so foolish…” After another moment’s daze, she forced a smile and said, “Ah, I’m still somewhat sad. Did the Master never have true feelings for my mother? Even cats and dogs, after spending time together, develop some emotional attachment.”
Baoxian smiled sadly, her slightly furrowed brow and gently pressed eye corners all indicating her ignorance of the world’s treachery.
Master and servant walked together toward Danyue Pavilion. The afternoon sun was dimmer than before, hanging over the treetops in the west. Qingyuan turned her head to look in the direction of Madam Hu’s courtyard, murmuring, “Qingru should be back by now, right?”
Not knowing under what pretense she had gone to see Li Congxin, perhaps saying “Fourth Sister is unavailable today,” or simply not mentioning her at all, pretending to encounter him by chance. Anyway, they had met today, which must have been satisfying, though Chuntai was quite indignant: “That was originally our Miss’s share, but Second Miss has taken her place.”
What was even more irritating was that after that incident, Lvzhui, who served the Second Miss, always looked down her nose at others, as if the Second Miss had already set one foot in the Danyang Marquis’s mansion and they, as servants, would rise to heaven along with her.
Qingyuan didn’t interfere in the servants’ squabbles and still treated Qingru the same as before. A day later, while delivering copied paintings to the family tutor, she had to pass through a long corridor from the inner courtyard to the private school. One side of the corridor leaned against a continuous wall with latticed windows, and people passing through could see the scenery on the other side through these windows. Southern courtyards were often designed this way, with a different view at every step, seemingly connected yet separate, possessing an exquisite beauty of partial concealment.
Qingyuan carried the scroll southward. The weather was gradually warming up, and her spring clothes had become increasingly thin, the soft fabric undulating against her skin, moving even without wind.
Such a spring day was truly wonderful! Qingyuan squinted her eyes and walked slowly, enjoying the moment, when suddenly she heard someone calling “Fourth Sister” from across the wall. She glanced at Baoxian, then turned her head to look and saw someone through the latticed window on the other side. His reddish-brown robe set against the spring greenery made his fair complexion stand out even more, like fine jade.
“Third Young Master,” she gave a slight curtsy as a greeting, showing no intention of further conversation, and continued along the corridor.
The person on the other side of the wall caught up, his figure visible in every latticed window. He seemed somewhat resentful, calling across the wall for Fourth Sister to wait, with a questioning tone, “Let me ask you just one thing—why didn’t you come that day?”
Qingyuan stopped, “Didn’t come? Come where?”
“The Great Buddha Temple.” His eyes gazed at her steadily, “Did you receive my letter?”
If it were someone else, they might have taken the opportunity to express their grievances, intentionally or unintentionally revealing their lack of autonomy, and letting others gain the upper hand. Baoxian thought the Fourth Miss would do the same, but her response was unexpected. Fourth Miss shook her head in confusion, “I never received your letter.”
Baoxian suddenly felt relieved, realizing this was the most appropriate response. It neither put oneself in a precarious position nor directly revealed that the letter had fallen into Second Miss’s hands. There was no need for confrontation to hurt someone’s pride; a light touch could achieve the desired effect, saving much trouble and effort. She had deliberately let Xiaohui spread the word, knowing Second Miss wouldn’t miss the opportunity, and patiently waited here. If one letter could cause such emotional turmoil, then in this young Danyang Marquis’s eyes, she probably wasn’t such a remarkable person after all.
Li Congxin indeed appeared slightly stunned, looking at her with suspicion. This was probably a new problem that the usually romantic young marquis had never encountered before!
Qingyuan maintained her honest and sincere expression, carefully saying while holding her hands, “I haven’t had much interaction with Third Young Master before. If you wrote me a letter, then Third Young Master was being inappropriate. My status is awkward, as everyone in Shengzhou knows. I’m already struggling to maintain my dignity and don’t want to invite any controversy. Please understand, Third Young Master, and don’t do anything that might cause misunderstandings. I’m of humble status and fortune, and can’t withstand outside gossip.”
After saying this, she gave another curtsy and ignored him, continuing forward.
Li Congxin stood there dumbfounded for a while before calling out, “Fourth Sister, when will you come of age?”
Qingyuan frowned and didn’t even turn around.
Baoxian felt somewhat dissatisfied and turned back to ask, “Why does Third Young Master ask this?”
Unexpectedly, the Danyang Marquis’s son seemed to have made up his mind and blurted out, “So I’ll know when to come and propose marriage.”