The Qian Family had not arrived early, but they had reason for their late entrance — the gifts they brought for Jing’er’s hundredth day had to be carried in on carrying poles.

As those poles were borne in one after another, every eye in the room was dazzled.

The Shi Mansion’s steward was calling out items from the gift register in a loud, clear voice.

Six separate gift boxes of long-life gold pieces alone, followed by agate pomegranate trees, jadeite and fine jade, golden and silver ornaments — the sheer value of it all left people stunned and speechless.

Even Yan Qing, who had grown up surrounded by the Yan Family’s considerable wealth, found herself feeling that beside the grandeur of the Qian Family, the Yan Family simply could not compare.

“The Qian Family is truly generous — what do you think all of this adds up to?”

“They have only one daughter, so of course they’d spare no expense. And their daughter has settled comfortably into the Shi Family and enjoys the Marshal’s full favor.”

The Qian Family had deliberately arrived late so that everyone would witness their wealth in full, and understand just how much they valued their daughter.

The Qian Family could be this lavish with gifts for a child they had no blood connection to — if their own daughter were ever to give birth to a child of her own, it was truly impossible to imagine what the Qian Family’s generosity would look like.

Yan Qing had never cared much for families like the Qian Family — too ostentatious, the kind that in the modern era would have been called devoted to showing off their wealth.

Nearly the entire Qian Family had come. Master Qian and Madam Qian went without saying, but even Qian Yonglu had come along, bringing two sons and a daughter with him.

Qian Yonglu’s third daughter, Qian Ling, Yan Qing had seen once before at the wedding — she had struck her as a woman of slippery social grace, adept at navigating any situation.

Standing beside her was a young woman in the full bloom of youth, looking no older than eighteen or nineteen. She wore a fitted grey-white Western suit that traced the curves of her figure, her face delicately lovely, her complexion smooth and fair, with the unassuming, quietly refined air particular to women from the Jiangnan region — the kind of appearance that made you feel immediately at ease just looking at her.

The young woman held Qian Ling’s hand, gazing around at the lively surroundings with evident curiosity, though good manners kept her from looking about too openly.

When Yan Qing appeared, the young woman’s gaze fell on her briefly — just a glance — but Yan Qing found herself looking twice.

The Qian Family came through the gate in a cheerful, bustling procession. As the young woman passed by Yan Qing, she turned and gave her a bright, spontaneous smile. Yan Qing returned it with a polite nod.

“And who is this?” Yan Qing asked Qian Lan in a casually curious tone.

Qian Lan smiled. “This is my grand-niece, Yin Minghui. She’s from Hai Cheng — she’s been living with the Qian Family while studying here in Shun Cheng for the past few years.”

“No wonder she looked unfamiliar to me.” Yan Qing smiled. “Let me go make sure she’s properly looked after.”

“She’s only here for the festivity — no need to make a special fuss over her. Let her enjoy herself.” Qian Lan smiled as well. “People without ties or responsibilities always love a lively gathering. Unlike us, who have to think carefully about everything we do and say — even wanting a bit of fun requires deliberate consideration.”

Yan Qing responded with a soft sound of acknowledgment and said nothing more. When she looked up again, Yin Minghui had already disappeared through the moon gate.

Yan Qing had an instinct that today’s hundredth-day banquet was going to be a very lively affair indeed.

The banquet got underway before long. Du Linghua, as Jing’er’s birth mother, was nowhere in sight. Instead, Jing’er was held by Nanny Liu and kept at Qian Lan’s side throughout. To outside observers, it was unmistakably Qian Lan who appeared to be the child’s mother.

“The Shi Mansion’s Eighth Young Master is fortunate to be raised under the principal wife’s care — he may as well be a legitimate son. His standing in the future will be a full rank above others.”

“Exactly. A child born of a concubine is simply different from one raised by the principal wife. If he is clever enough to please the Madam, the Qian Family’s riches will be his to draw from as he wishes.”

“Don’t underestimate those born of concubines either — the Seventh Young Master is concubine-born, and just look at how much trust and regard the Marshal places in him now. I’ve heard a great deal of talk that the Marshal will soon be naming an heir, and there’s an eighty percent chance it will be the Seventh Young Master.”

“The Seventh Young Master has both talent and bearing and is deeply respected by the people. Having him as the Young Marshal would be a fine thing.”

Shi Guang was making his rounds with the wine cup, and caught these murmured exchanges. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, as though entirely unbothered.

He glanced at Shi Ting not far away — around him stood the political figures, and after the fall of the Meng Family, those who had once orbited Shi Guang had thinned by half in an instant.

Whether it would be Shi Guang or Shi Ting who became the Young Marshal, no one dared to guarantee and no one dared to speculate carelessly. All anyone could do was wager as best they could.

With the Marshal’s trust continuing to grow, those standing on Shi Ting’s side seemed to be multiplying, and the landscape was gradually becoming clearer.

On this side of the banquet, midway through the meal, Qian Lan’s maid Xique suddenly approached with an envelope and placed it before her.

“Madam, this is the hundredth-day composition that Master Jiang wrote for the Eighth Young Master.”

Qian Lan had long heard that Jiang Zeluo had composed a piece for Jing’er. To receive a personal composition from the great Master Jiang was a considerable honor.

Qian Lan took the envelope and caught a faint scent — a delicate trace of perfume.

Xique never wore perfume; for Jing’er’s health, everyone who came near the child was forbidden from using cosmetics or fragrance. If the scent on the envelope hadn’t come from Xique, it couldn’t possibly have come from Jiang Zeluo either.

A faint crease appeared between Qian Lan’s brows, but she let nothing show.

“Please pass my thanks to Master Jiang, and have a gift prepared in return.” Qian Lan instructed.

“Yes, Madam.” Xique asked, “Won’t you look at it, Madam?”

Qian Lan opened the envelope. Inside, as expected, was a sheet of music. She read it carefully, then folded everything back into the envelope.

“It’s a fine piece. Put it away.”

As she finished speaking, she raised her eyes and looked out. Behind one of the red pillars, a figure hurried past and vanished.

The banquet continued. On the men’s side, glasses were raised and laughter echoed freely, while the women’s gathering was already winding down. Many of the ladies and young misses had left their seats to take a stroll — after all, the Shi Family’s garden had lovely scenery, well suited to walking off a meal.

Qian Lan was still on this side, chatting with a few of the ladies, when a maid came hurrying over and leaned close to her ear. “Madam, something’s wrong.”

Qian Lan frowned. “What is it?”

“It’s the young misses from the Fang Family and the Chen Family. Miss Fang had a few too many glasses of the fruit wine and got into a quarrel with Miss Chen. They’re out in the rear garden now — it’s come to blows.”

Seeing the maid’s expression of urgency, Qian Lan quickly offered an apology to the ladies she had been speaking with, then stood and left with the maid.

“Which garden? Take me there.”

“The east garden.” The maid set off in the lead, with Qian Lan and Xique following close behind.

Xique cast a wary glance at the maid. If she remembered correctly, this was one of the Eighth Miss’s personal attendants. The Eighth Miss and the Madam had never been on good terms — could this person have been sent to pull some trick?

“Madam, I think we should be careful.” Xique said in a low voice.

Qian Lan shook her head. “Today is our Shi Mansion’s banquet. If guests come to blows, it’s our Shi Family’s face that is lost.”

As they spoke, the group arrived at the small rear garden — but there was no sign of the fight they had expected. The garden was empty and still.

A maid walked over and bowed. “Madam, we’ve already talked the young ladies from the Fang and Chen families down. They are in a room just now, but they still seem upset. Please go and speak with them, Madam.”

Xique instinctively reached out and touched Qian Lan’s arm. Qian Lan shook her head and followed the maid toward the side room at the back.

The moment Qian Lan stepped inside, Shi Yutong sprang out from behind the ornamental rocks, then darted off at a run toward the front hall.

In the main hall, the Marshal was speaking quietly with a guest when a guard came over and bent to his ear. “A maid has come to report that the Madam is feeling unwell — she may have exhausted herself.”

“Lan’er is feeling unwell?” The Marshal rose at once. “I’ll go and see.”

Shi Ting noticed the Marshal leaving his seat in haste and turned to Jin Shan. “Go ask the Young Madam — find out what’s happening.”

Jin Shan returned quickly with the report. “Apparently two young misses got into a fight. The Madam went to intervene.”

Shi Ting’s instincts told him something was off, but Qian Lan’s affairs were not his concern. And he knew that Yan Qing, too, was in a position of watching from the sidelines.

Yan Qing was indeed watching from the sidelines — but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to see how it played out. So when she saw the Marshal leave his seat, she took Jing Zhi and made her way to the rear garden as well.

When Yan Qing arrived at the rear garden, she found it unusually bustling. For some reason, a number of the ladies and young misses were also drifting in this direction one after another.

“Apparently the Madam is feeling unwell, and our mistress has come to pay her regards.” Jing Zhi casually asked a passing maid, who replied in just those words.

Yan Qing suppressed a smile. Clearly it was Shi Yutong who had spread the word that Qian Lan was unwell — though what exactly Shi Yutong was planning remained to be seen.

And now, with everyone converging on the small garden, the Marshal was striding in with urgent steps, having heard that Qian Lan was ill and dropped everything at once to come.

“Marshal, the Madam is just in that side room.” A small maid stepped forward and bowed.

“Did the Madam say where she feels unwell?”

The maid’s gaze flickered. “It seems to be a headache — and she asked us not to disturb her.”

The Marshal’s brow furrowed, and he quickened his pace. Following the maid’s guidance, he made directly for the side room in the small rear garden.

This set of side rooms had no regular occupant and was used only for guest accommodation when needed. Though rarely in use, they were kept swept and tidy.

The Shi Mansion had many courtyards, and this one sat tucked into the southwest corner — secluded and quiet.

By the time the Marshal arrived, quite a number of the ladies and young misses had already gathered. They had all received the same word — the Madam was unwell — and as guests, it was only natural to come and pay their respects.

The small maid stopped before the door of the side room and bowed. “Marshal, the Madam is inside.”