The crowd burst into laughter. Xixia’s face turned from red to white, then to green as he glared at Shuer. Seeing she had stumped him, Shuer raised her chin proudly and shot him a contemptuous look.
If he couldn’t handle this little upstart today, how could he ever show his face again? Xixia sneered, “Ignore her. Go in, and push aside anyone who blocks the way!” He stepped back, and two burly servants moved forward.
Smelling their pungent sweat and realizing they were serious, Shuer panicked. She turned, grabbed the long, thick door bolt, and stood guard, saying with a weak voice, “Who dares?”
Just then, a lazy voice drifted from the corridor: “Xixia, is it? You bring a group of people into my courtyard without announcement, not fearing to disturb me, and even threaten to sell my maid? Did I hear that correctly?”
The voice was soft and smooth, incredibly pleasant to hear. Though the words were questioning, they sounded like a casual conversation. Everyone’s eyes widened as they looked towards the corridor. There stood a tall, slender woman with snow-white skin and a beautiful face, her pomegranate-red dress particularly eye-catching.
For a moment, the servants behind Xixia were dumbstruck. So this was the appearance of the young mistress who had been ill and confined to her quarters for so long. Why had everyone been saying she was a sickly, unsightly woman?
Xixia, having been by the young master’s side for a long time, had seen the young mistress a few times. Since her serious illness last autumn, she had stopped meddling in household affairs. He remembered once when Biwa, the favored concubine who had borne the eldest son, had feigned drunkenness and caused a scene before her, she had simply ordered her doors closed and ignored it. When the young master took in Xiansu, the most popular courtesan from Fangyun House, and Xiansu had “accidentally” spilled tea on her jade-white embroidered skirt while praising its beauty, she had calmly given the skirt to Xiansu. Her actions had even earned the sympathy of the mistress, who had previously disliked her, and had led to the mistress privately reprimanding the young master several times about maintaining proper order between main and secondary wives.
After being quiet for so long, was she finally showing her authority today? Xixia knew he couldn’t compare to those favored concubines. If he didn’t appease her and this reached the mistress’s ears, he would surely suffer.
With this in mind, Xixia stepped forward, bowed, and apologized: “Xixia greets the young mistress. Please forgive me. I’m here on the young master’s orders to move flowers for decoration. Shuer misunderstood earlier, and I spoke out of turn. It was just a jest; even with ten times the courage, I wouldn’t dare to be so presumptuous.”
Mudan did not comment, only asking, “Did the young master specify which pots to move?”
Xixia listed them one by one: “The purple iris, Yaohuang, Yulou Diancui, Zipao Jindai, and Yaotai Yulu.”
Mudan nodded, “Shuer, show Xixia which pots these are. Be careful not to damage the branches, leaves, or buds.”
Was she letting this insolent servant off so easily? Shuer was extremely displeased but reluctantly led Xixia inside, leaving the now-silent group of servants outside the courtyard. “Move them one by one,” she instructed. “Don’t all rush in at once, lest you offend our young mistress with your smell.”
No one dared to speak carelessly as before. They all held their breath, stealing glances at Mudan. Unperturbed, she fanned herself slowly with her white silk fan, eyes half-closed as she cautioned, “The most important is this purple iris. Be extremely careful not to damage it.”
Xixia understood. Tomorrow’s main attraction would be this purple iris and the Yuban Bai that the young master had gone to great lengths to acquire. The purple iris was undoubtedly the most crucial, allowing no mishaps. He examined it first: this purple iris was said to be thirty years old, nearly three feet tall with a crown diameter of four feet—extremely rare and valuable. Such old peonies were usually planted directly in the ground, but this one had been specially potted in an oversized container years in advance by the He family to facilitate its inclusion in the dowry. They had hired expensive gardeners to nurture it meticulously, resulting in its current splendor.
Xixia counted: this year, the purple iris was in its prime, blooming magnificently with twelve flowers, each about the size of a large bowl, and three or four buds. The petals, branches, and leaves were all perfectly formed. Shuer watched from the side, scoffing, “Such beautiful flowers, yet in some people’s eyes, they’re no different from strings of cash. They only know how to count flowers and leaves, without any appreciation for beauty.”
Xixia glared at her before moving to the Yaohuang. If the purple iris was the queen of flowers, the Yaohuang was the king. Unfortunately, this Yaohuang was younger and potted, so despite its five or six dazzling blooms, it couldn’t compare to those six-foot-tall trees.
Next was the Yulou Diancui, its layered jade-white petals resembling a pagoda, with a few emerald green petals at the center, exuding elegance and freshness. The Yaotai Yulu had white petals and stamens, while the Zipao Jindai’s petals resembled fine purple silk, shimmering softly in the sunlight, with golden stamens—a stunning sight. All the peonies were in full bloom, competing in beauty, each one a rare treasure.
After finishing his count, Xixia secretly glanced at the young mistress standing in the corridor. He thought to himself, any cutting from these flowers would be worth over 500 coins, yet the young mistress let them grow wild, for her sole enjoyment—such a waste.
Just as he was thinking this, Mudan spoke: “Xixia, I heard that a cutting from this purple iris sold for 1,000 coins last autumn. Is that true?”
Startled by how her words echoed his thoughts, Xixia quickly bowed and answered, “Yes, young mistress.”
Mudan continued, “I’ve heard that the Cao family in the north of the city has a peony garden where visitors pay 50 coins for entry. They receive at least a hundred visitors daily, sometimes even five or six hundred. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is.”
Mudan slowly walked towards Xixia, fanning herself: “Have you been there?”
Mudan’s figure differed from the plump beauties currently in fashion, but she had her unique charm. With long legs, a slim waist, and a full bosom, she walked with even steps, head held high, exuding an indescribable allure. The two peonies embroidered on her bodice seemed to shimmer enticingly, drawing the eye.
Xixia dared not look anymore. Blushing, he said, “I haven’t been there. The young master doesn’t allow our household members to visit.”
“I see,” Mudan said regretfully, stopping beside him. She continued slowly, “I wonder who has been there? What’s it like inside?”
The young mistress’s perfume was unlike the strong scents of other concubines. It was a rare peony fragrance, subtle yet persistent, gently wafting into one’s nostrils. How much did such a perfume cost? As if bewitched, Xixia politely said, “My sister has been there. She said the Cao family’s peonies are planted around a large lake, by pavilions and bridges, and even on strange rocks in the lake. Visitors can take a boat ride around the lake to view all the beautiful flowers.”
Then, trying to flatter, Xixia added, “But those are just common varieties, only notable for their quantity. In terms of rarity and value, they can’t compare to the young mistress’s peonies. If the young mistress were to create such a garden, people would gladly pay not just 50, but even 100 coins to visit.”
Mudan smiled coyly, pointing her fan at him: “Nonsense. If the young master knew you gave me such a preposterous idea, he’d have you beaten to death!”
Xixia’s face instantly paled.
Mudan wasn’t exaggerating. Liu Chang, as the sole heir of a three-generation noble family, had grown up in luxury, ignorant of the value of money and only knowing how to enjoy life. In winter, he played the flute before plum blossoms and brewed tea with snowmelt. In autumn, he flew hawks, hunted with dogs, and went on horseback hunting expeditions. In summer, he took boat rides on the lake and watched beautiful women sing and dance. In spring, he played polo, rode horses, appreciated flowers, and hosted banquets. He lived a carefree, indulgent life.
A few years ago, the elder Liu had foolishly embezzled a huge sum and nearly faced investigation, urgently needing help. The He family, who had long admired Liu Chang’s potential, seized this opportunity to repay the stolen funds and secure a chance for their daughter to marry into the family as a good luck charm. Since then, Liu Chang has both come to love and hate money.
After inheriting his ancestral position as a sixth-rank Fenyi Lang official, he found himself with an idle title. He became passionate about networking with the powerful and wealthy, and equally passionate about making money. The Liu household had dozens of managers, all devising ways to earn money, bringing in substantial profits each year. Yet Liu Chang never discussed money openly and disliked others mentioning it in his presence, preferring to maintain an air of refined taste. If such a person learned that his servant had suggested his merchant-born wife open a garden to publicly profit from peony flowers, he would certainly not let Xixia off lightly.
Mudan stood nearby, watching beads of sweat form on Xixia’s nose as he floundered anxiously. She chuckled softly and said nonchalantly, “Look at you, child, so frightened by a mere jest. How pitiful. The young master won’t know. Go about your work without worry. If your sister likes peonies, I’ll send her a few cuttings to play with this autumn.”
“Thank you, young mistress.” Xixia heaved a sigh of relief but dared not speak further. He lowered his head and silently directed the others to move the flowers, his earlier arrogance completely gone.
“Be careful,” Mudan smiled with satisfaction and walked towards the corridor, secretly calculating. If she could build such a garden, selling cuttings and offering tours during the flowering season would be enough for her to live comfortably. If she could cultivate a few rare varieties, she’d be set for life.
Shuer diligently supervised the servants, scolding anyone who moved too slowly and occasionally making snide remarks about Xixia. Xixia, having shed his earlier arrogance, ignored her poor attitude and focused on the task. Finally, after carefully moving all the flower pots out one by one, Shuer rushed to close the door.
Just as the door was about to shut, a plump hand firmly held it open. A powdered, chubby face with bright red lips smiled coyly: “Shuer, don’t close the door. Miss Yutong is here to pay respects to the young mistress.”