Zheng Aman never imagined in his life that his family, the Zheng clan, still had a way out—and that this way out had come from Chen Dasheng and his two sworn brothers.

Merit rewards could not be obtained again, and yet the three of them had handed theirs over without a moment’s hesitation.

Chen Dasheng had only known him a few years, yet out of regard for Chang Lianfang extended that same regard to Aman, personally petitioning the throne on his own and going to great lengths, all to win the lives of four men of the Zheng family in the end.

Though Zheng Aman had never been especially close to his own family, and there had long been rifts between them, they were still family—still blood kin. How could he bear to let them go to their deaths with no hope at all?

He dared not hate, dared not resent, could not even say no—the Zheng family was in the wrong, guilty of grave crimes. He had once been utterly without hope, but now he finally had the courage to keep living.

What had been one man carrying the weight of an entire clan became five people sharing that burden—and that meant they could survive. A little more hardship was nothing.

After the matter with Zheng Aman was settled, Chen Dasheng returned home on leave from Yanjing one day. As soon as he entered, he placed an invitation card on his father’s desk and mentioned in passing, “Aman came and kowtowed to me. He never used to be like that.”

What a proud man he had once been.

Saying this, Chen Dasheng felt something stir in his own heart too.

She Qingling opened the invitation, glanced at it, and said, “He’s much luckier than I was back then. He has Little Huar, he has that boy Jingui, and he has you.”

What had he himself had, back in those days?

Only then did Chen Dasheng remember—this stubborn old man of his who wouldn’t even get out of bed had once endured humiliations, in body and spirit, a hundred times worse than what Aman was going through now.

Embarrassed, he smiled and crouched down to massage his father’s legs.

She Qingling kicked him away, and he shamelessly scooted right back.

The two studious grandsons lay grinning over the table, watching their grandfather and father clown around.

She Qingling looked down at his son, then held up the invitation and shook it, laughing. “I’m only a commandery prince. That old scoundrel Duke Song has always looked down on me. How is it he’s suddenly willing to send our family an invitation?”

In truth, it was because Chen Dasheng had gone to such lengths for the sake of friendship that his standing among Yanjing’s noble circles had risen by leaps and bounds.

Besides, everyone already felt they owed him a debt of gratitude.

Of the two great remonstrating officials of the previous dynasty, the She and Zhong families—the She family cared about reputation, while the Zhong family kept remonstrating unto death: when the ruler wouldn’t listen, they remonstrated again to the death! Advised again, still not heeded—remonstrate again? No, they gave up.

Afterward the whole clan was demoted and exiled, and they took their clansmen to Shaoshang, where they allied themselves with Yang Zao—and openly rebelled.

Perhaps because fewer of their family had died compared to the She family, and since the common folk tend to measure loyalty by body count, this made them seem one degree less loyal than the She family in popular esteem.

Both were descendants of loyal martyrs—oh, but our family didn’t lose as many people, so we rank lower? Pah! Hypocrites seeking empty fame!

That old scoundrel of the Zhong family started calling She Qingling an old dog—well, it went both ways.

In truth, She Qingling knew perfectly well that across two reigns, the only family who had truly seen through the She family’s façade of false virtue was the Duke Song’s household. Their duke, Zhong Jizhi, conducted himself with real substance, and even his ancestors had far surpassed those of the She family.

They simply never called him out on it—though whenever their paths crossed, they never gave him a warm look either. Both were proud men who owed each other nothing, so they simply looked down on one another.

Never had he imagined his family would actually receive an invitation from the Duke Song’s household. For a moment She Qingling felt utterly satisfied, as though he had won.

He tapped the invitation smugly and said to Chen Dasheng with a smirk, “Didn’t I say that old scoundrel would come begging me for something one day? Hmph! Heh heh!”

Prince Furui had finally laughed with all the swagger of a palace elder. After basking in it for a while, he sighed. “His Majesty has learned to court favor and play balance-of-power games too, eh? Tsk!”

In the eighth month of the seventh year of Daliang, the legitimate daughter of the Duke Song’s household, Zhong Xiaonü, was bestowed the title of Consort Su and entered the Golden Cassia Palace of the Daliang court.

Fearing the bloodshed that would fill Yanjing after the start of autumn, before Consort Su left home, the Duke Song’s household—which had always kept its doors closed to visitors—broke with tradition and began formally mingling with Yanjing’s noble houses. They held a grand family banquet and sent invitations far and wide.

Such deference toward the imperial family was very much in keeping with the sovereign’s wishes.

For a time, receiving an invitation from the Duke’s household became something to boast about in the capital.

Meanwhile, in present-day Yanjing, there remained one household that, since its founding, had kept banquets to no more than five guests and maintained a low profile, never engaging in frequent social functions among the nobility—this was Prince Furui’s mansion.

As for the banquets held on Qinwei Lane, those belonged to Qinwei Lane—they belonged to the Chen family…

No matter how capable a person is in this life, they will always have some imagined rival—like She and Zhong, who never fought or argued, simply looked down on each other, while comparing all manner of trivial things.

Now that the invitation had come, and it named even the old lady of the house among the invited, She Qingling grew a little uneasy.

He loved his mother’s simple, kind-hearted nature and cherished the forthright spirit his daughter-in-law carried, but neither woman’s manner or speech would really pass muster in the circles of upper-class noblewomen.

But there was no time now to give them a crash course in etiquette.

And so, on the morning of the banquet, the family’s old lady was made to put on the formal attire her adopted son had prepared for her—an azure brocade jacket embroidered with cranes amid clouds, a green wave-patterned skirt with plain flowers, gold-inlaid hair ornaments set with red and green gems paired with a longevity star headpiece, inlaid with six small cat’s-eye stones and ten large ones, and a pair of matching mandarin-duck-and-lingzhi jeweled sashes at her waist—altogether a radiant, gleaming old lady.

The jewelry, though, was secondary. What mattered most was that today the old lady carried a staff—one that She Qingling and Chen Dasheng had earned through beatings, a special honor personally bestowed by His Majesty. The head of the staff appeared to be a dragon, its claws missing one talon to mark it as a mere honorary rank equivalent to the highest court status.

This was no small thing. Even the Duke Song household, even the Duke himself, could greet this old lady with only a nod and it would not be considered improper.

Her sons and grandsons had given half their lives for the state, she was Chen Dasheng’s own grandmother, and She Qingling himself called her Mother—in truth, by now, the old lady was already among the foremost matriarchs in all of Daliang.

She herself simply hadn’t realized any of this.

Qiqian’er wore a large red robe woven with golden pheasants in five colors, her hair done up in a gold-threaded chignon, adorned with a filigree potted-landscape hairpin set with small pearls, a gold-and-pearl hairpiece depicting immortals, small red gemstone flower hairpins on either side, red tourmaline earrings, a small pearl cloud-collar, and a pair of gold filigree sachets hanging at her waist.

Gennu’er, An’er, and Gaoxing—all quite displeased about it—were dressed in silk-tapestry headbands, gold-and-jade lock pendants around their necks, and small red brocade robes.

These were ornaments She Qingling himself had dug out, and he even had the household’s makeup-skilled eunuch personally apply makeup to all of them.

If you didn’t hear them speak, the old lady now looked every bit like a kind-faced golden bodhisattva, Qiqian’er resembled a gilded statue of the Elm Tree Goddess, and as for the three young masters—golden boys, they simply had to be golden boys.

Once the old man’s stubborn streak took hold, his nagging became something people genuinely dreaded.

As they were about to leave, he fixed the old lady with a serious stare and instructed her: “Mother!”

The old lady flinched back in alarm. “What, what is it, son? I—Mother remembers. Really, I remember it all clearly.”

She Qingling looked at her. “What exactly do you remember?”

He asked with his usual smile still in place, but the old lady felt a flicker of guilt and forced herself to answer. “Just—just that today I mustn’t bring a food box out with me. Their food is so good, but I mustn’t grab extra to eat, and I definitely mustn’t sneak any home.”

She Qingling nodded. “Mm, good! What else?”

The old lady’s rouged lips trembled with indignation. Slowly she raised her arm, revealing four or five bracelets of gold filigree, gold-inlaid jade, and ebony set with gems. “Just—just that I mustn’t bring even one of these home. Their family has four young ladies, so that’s one, two, three, four… Son, why are you so unreasonable about this? People like that, rich as landlords, wouldn’t even care about a few of these—what’s it to them?”

She Qingling coughed. Qiqian’er pouted and held out her own arms, adorned with even more, even more magnificent bracelets.

She Qingling pointed at them and threatened, “If you don’t give them up, your granddaughter-in-law will give away even more expensive ones.”

The old lady’s lips trembled, her eyes reddened, and she gritted her teeth. “Fine! Fine! Tomorrow we’ll all be dead anyway, so why bother!”

She really wanted to cry.

But it was time to leave, and no one had time to coddle her further.

She Qingling looked at Qiqian’er’s face and instructed her again and again: “No matter how difficult things get today, you must uphold the dignity of Prince Furui’s household. Even if someone drops dead in front of you, you must not lose your composure. Understood?”

Qiqian’er’s face wore a virtuous, decorous expression, somewhere between a smile and not—not wanting another slap of rouge to the mouth, she simply performed a proper bow and said demurely, “Yes, I understand.”

She Qingling was about to say more when Chen Dasheng spoke up from the doorway, ever the peacemaker: “Father, we’ll be late.”

And so, She Qingling waved them off, though his heart remained deeply uneasy as he let them go.

The carriages the family used today were arranged according to the standards befitting Prince Furui’s household. As they departed from Quanhou Street, the streets ahead were cleared for them.

Normally it took at least half an hour just to leave Qingfeng district; today it took barely the time it takes incense to burn partway down.

Inside the luxurious carriage, all five of them, from oldest to youngest, sat in silence. The three young masters, having risen so early and been dressed up in such elaborate finery, fell asleep the moment they got into the carriage.

Qiqian’er and the old lady rested their heads against small pillows, so gloomy their souls seemed nearly to have drifted from their bodies.

When the carriage reached Yanjing’s east gate, the guards opened half of the main gate to let the commandery prince’s procession through. Though Chen Dasheng had not yet been formally granted the title of heir, the family was still entitled to half an honor guard.

And so they entered Yanjing city this way. Grandmother and granddaughter-in-law both grew a bit nervous, each silently hoping they wouldn’t arrive, wouldn’t arrive, please let us never arrive at all… Well. They arrived.

The Duke Song household threw open its main gate wide to receive the commandery prince’s matriarch. Surrounded on all sides by people, the old lady and Qiqian’er wore forced smiles, their hearts pounding like eight hundred fawns separated from their mothers, bolting wildly across a hillside only to run straight into a pack of hawks.

How were they supposed to act, to avoid any breach of etiquette?

There were too many people, too much chaos, and in an instant every lesson they’d been taught at home flew straight out of their heads.

Perfumed sleeves brushed past, layers of opera music drifted over from the stage, noble ladies came forward to greet them warmly—whose was this one, whose was that one? Oh, whose was that?

Never mind. Just smile.

Within just a few exchanges, one of Qiqian’er’s gemstone rings had already ended up on the finger of some junior relative’s wife from the Duke Song household.

The old lady glanced at her, heartbroken.

Amid all this dazzling splendor, you had no idea who anyone was, yet they all seemed to know exactly who you were—and that was the worrying part.

Everyone came up to show affection, and each time, mother and daughter-in-law wondered—how much more would they have to give away? The old lady half wished she’d gone blind before coming.

Hearts pounding, they were helped into the estate and onto soft palanquins. The old lady sat properly in front; Qiqian’er held Gaoxing while the wet nurses each carried Gennu and An’er on separate, lower sedan chairs behind. Trailing along were nearly thirty servants, both from their own household and the Duke Song household, trotting along in quick, careful steps.

Looking down from their elevated seats, the noble ladies who had once seemed so grand and untouchable, even the venerable elders and young masters, treated them with the utmost courtesy.

The old lady felt a flicker of unease, wanting to express that she didn’t deserve such treatment—but the moment she moved her head, the gold hooks hanging from her ears pricked lightly at her skin, forcing her to keep her eyes fixed straight ahead, maintaining an appropriately dignified bearing.

And dignified she had to remain—she was Prince Furui’s adoptive mother. Who would dare accept anything less than proper deference from her?

Since receiving the imperial decree at the end of last month, the family knew that upon entering they would need to pay their respects to Consort Su—a great honor indeed.

After a long walk down a long, secluded corridor, they finally reached a quiet, secluded courtyard where no one dared disturb them. The palace-appointed lady officials, having already taken up their posts, naturally did not dare to be careless upon hearing that the matriarch’s adoptive mother had arrived. They came forward at once to receive the commandery prince’s household’s gifts—a qin with a ranked score sheet from Chunxi, two sets of unidentified headpieces packed in boxes, a solid gold miniature carriage ornament with agate inlay, six potted trees of gemstone flowers…

As the eunuch read out each gift item one by one, the old lady began to struggle for breath, her legs going weak. Qiqian’er, heartbroken as well, was forced to support her and whisper, “Grandmother, the money’s already spent—let’s just smile through it, all right?”

The old lady bared her teeth, pressed a hand to her chest, and whispered to Qiqian’er, “Qian’er.”

“Yes, Grandmother, I’m here.”

“Grandmother’s heart—I think it’s broken.”

The old lady was helped inside by the lady officials to pay her respects. Before she could even complete the gesture, a voice from within called for her to forgo formality, followed by a soft, gentle voice saying, “There’s no need for such courtesy, old lady—from now on, we are proper family.”

Inwardly seething, the old lady forced a stiff smile and said she dared not presume so much… but the other side, of course, would never accept that, and merely had her perform a brief half-curtsy.

Qiqian’er bowed respectfully behind her. Once the courtesies were done, the voice above praised Qiqian’er’s serene beauty and her well-known reputation for virtue in managing her household and raising her children.

Qiqian’er, having memorized all the proper courteous phrases in advance, simply went in to pay her respects and present the gifts. Consort Su gave each of the three children a welcoming gift, and then, in something of a daze, they were helped back out.

As for actually seeing Consort Su’s face? Not a chance. His Majesty had already… ahem… claimed her, and from now on there might be the occasional chance to glimpse her from a distance. For now, only her father and brother would be permitted to see her, and only on the day she left home.

Once all the formalities were finally over, Qiqian’er and the old lady let out a sigh of relief as they were carried forward again on the soft palanquins. Seeing no one nearby, the old lady sat up a little straighter.

She reached over and opened the welcoming gift meant for her precious grandson—only to find inside a shabby little string of wooden beads? The beads did carry a faint fragrance, but still—wood! What use was that?

Tsk. Such an enormous estate, such a grand consort—goodness, and this was what they gave for a single meeting with my precious grandson? Was this some kind of insult?

Are you looking down on the Star Lord himself? Watch out, or you’ll get struck by lightning!

Deeply resentful, the old lady glanced around again, and then, without changing her expression, quietly slipped the bracelet off her wrist and into the box, sliding the wooden beads onto her own wrist instead.

They had only gone halfway back when little Gaoxing at home could no longer stand it.

This child had grown up in an especially quiet environment; the loudest commotion he’d ever known was the kind of playful ruckus his older brothers and sister made.

But here, there was noise of an entirely different kind—two opera stages running simultaneously at full volume in the estate, welcoming drums and music at the gate. Where Chen Dasheng had gone, on the men’s side, they were playing bronze bells and performing ritual dances.

And on top of that, however refined the incense the noble guests wore, with so many different scents mixed together, the whole courtyard reeked of a strange, cloying mixture.

The adults hardly noticed, but this child, being different from birth, cried so hard his wails pierced straight through, at one point drowning out the entire clamor of the courtyard.

On such an auspicious, joyous occasion, a child crying like this wasn’t welcome anywhere. Qiqian’er quietly tried to soothe him, but Gaoxing cried as though he were about to breathe his last, as if to say—if you dare carry me any further forward, I will stop breathing right here to prove it.

With no other option, Qiqian’er got down from the palanquin and carried him herself, walking and rocking him. She noticed that the farther away other people moved, the quieter his crying became—farther still, quieter still…

Only once everyone had withdrawn entirely from the corridor did Gaoxing, tears still welling in his eyes, finally let out a soft, relieved breath. At last, some relief.

Qiqian’er looked at him, troubled. “Aiya!”

Ever since he was born, this child had always been cheerful and happy—what on earth was wrong with him today? At a loss, she patted him gently and asked, “What’s the matter with you, hm? Why are you being so difficult?”

But she had no way of knowing that, at that very moment, in a small flower pavilion at the far end of the rear courtyard, more than twenty men wearing fierce demon masks, armed and dressed in soft armor, were swearing a blood oath. Their leader downed a cup of blood wine in one gulp and said bitterly, “Two days from now, our entire families face execution. The only way out is to seize the Emperor’s little concubine and trade her for our lives.”

His companion drank his own cup and drew a sharp breath. “Win or lose, this is it—we go all in!”

Several fierce-looking men leaning against the wall lifted their heads. “We of Yuegong Mountain take money and do the job—why hesitate? These people are nothing but soft-handed lordlings playing at martial arts. Rest easy—even if we can’t catch the Emperor’s little concubine, there are plenty of high-ranking noblewomen out there. Grab a few at random, and I don’t believe that old Emperor would dare refuse!”

A chime sounded from the front, and a man dressed as a steward of the Duke Song household entered and said, “Everyone, get ready! You may move now. The commandery prince’s old lady and her granddaughter-in-law have already left the Golden Cassia Pavilion. I’ve arranged the entire route—for half an hour, no one will dare disturb you there. Aside from that, there are only some twenty-odd lady officials. Move quickly and cleanly.”

With that, the men donned their masks together, gripped their various weapons, and leapt up onto the rooftops from the flower pavilion, treading across the tiles like ghosts as they moved toward Consort Su’s quarters.

Gaoxing suddenly let out a piercing wail, and Qiqian’er looked up toward the rooftop.

That unmistakable, unconcealed killing intent—

She sensed it.

She looked down at her own troublesome son. This little thing had actually sensed it before she had?

Glancing around and seeing no one, Qiqian’er reached out, snapped a willow branch from a tree near the ladder, and leapt straight up onto the roof.

To frighten her own son like this—whoever they were, they deserved to die.

The group of masked men had scattered in different directions. Two of them happened to land near the ladder, only to feel their masks suddenly crack and a sharp, stinging pain in their eyes—instantly they could see nothing at all.

Terrified out of their wits, not daring to speak, they slashed blindly with their blades in every direction. In an instant, a fierce gust of wind swept through the area as Qiqian’er sneered, leapt behind them, and with one kick each to the spine sent them flying straight into the nearby willow tree branches.

Gaoxing’s eyes went wide, and through his tears he suddenly began to laugh.

He reached out his little hand, grasping at the air, and said, “Ah!”

Qiqian’er, holding him with one arm, tilted her head and kissed his forehead, laughing. “You little rascal, what ‘ah’? Wait till Mama settles this score—how dare they frighten my son…”

And so, on the rooftop of the Duke Song household, the masked men’s disguises were shattered one after another—blinded, sent flying, hung up in the trees.

Below, gongs and drums rang out in celebration; above, a woman carrying her child bounded across the rooftops, striking left and right with a willow branch. And just like that… before the intruders ever reached the Golden Cassia Pavilion, every last one of them had been dealt with.

Qiqian’er, meaning to carry her now-giggling son back down to the ground, was standing at a height when she spotted a man dressed as a steward, carrying a large bundle on his back, pushing at a stone roller near the base of a wall.

Once he’d finally, with a head full of sweat, managed to push the roller aside, a dog-hole was revealed beneath it. The man glanced back one last time at the Duke Song estate, his face twisting into a sly, treacherous smirk, and turned to crawl into the hole…

Unfortunately, just as half his body had made it through, he suddenly felt his shoulder go heavy—the stone roller on the other side of the wall had been sent flying over the top and now pinned his upper body to the ground.

He couldn’t move at all. He tried to lift his head, only to find someone had stepped down on the back of his neck.

Gaoxing’s eyes went wide as saucers, drool trickling down, a finger in his mouth as he watched with wide-eyed excitement.

The man struggled for a moment, then bellowed furiously, “Yuegong Mountain, how dare you! You don’t even follow the rules anymore—all for a mere five hundred gold pieces? This world of ours won’t have room for you lot any longer. Truly, one generation worse than the last. Qin She was right to have wiped out your entire mountain back then—served you right! Pah!”

Qiqian’er pursed her lips, then nodded. Oh, so it really was that unlucky bunch from Yuegong Mountain again?

Tsk tsk tsk… yes, of course it was them.

She pressed down with her foot, the corner of her mouth curling, and the man’s head slammed hard into the ground and went still.

Qiqian’er bounded back into the courtyard, but after a few steps, worried the man might break free, she reached over, pried loose a chunk of the rockery, and carried it over single-handedly to place on top of his lower body—several hundred jin more weight added on.

There. Nice and secure.

She walked a few more steps, then suddenly remembered something.

Hmm… wasn’t there still a bundle over by that hole? Five hundred gold?

People in these parts sometimes called copper “gold” too, but who would go to such extreme, murderous lengths over five hundred jin of copper?

And if it really was gold? Five hundred taels of gold was far too heavy for an ordinary person to carry alone—surely that bundle couldn’t really hold that much… could it?

Well, I’ll just take a look. I’m sure it’s not really that exaggerated…

In the end she went back and, using her toe, flipped open the bundle by the dog-hole. Good heavens—tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk—it really was worth some five hundred jin of gold and jewels…

Running her eyes over the gleaming treasure, it was clearly worth far more than five hundred gold.

Well, well. If she’d already resolved such a major crisis for the Duke Song household all on her own, then as an unsung hero behind the scenes, accepting a little tribute only seemed proper.

That was simply how things were done.

And so Qiqian’er bent down, hoisted the bundle up with one hand, leapt onto the wall, and made her way toward the stables at the rear. After searching around for a while, she finally found her own family’s carriage, sprang up onto the roof of the carriage compartment, opened the false top, and tucked the bundle inside.

For all the trouble she’d gone to, it hadn’t taken more than the time it takes half a stick of incense to burn before she was back at the ladder leading down from the Golden Cassia Pavilion.

Qiqian’er glanced at the willow tree, now hung with dangling men, gave a small “tsk,” and turned to head back out.

In the open-air courtyard of the rear residence, red carpets stretched across the ground, fragrant breezes drifted through the air, and everywhere was splendor and opulence, gold and jade in glittering abundance. The Duke Song household’s matriarch had her granddaughters called out to be presented to the old lady.

This was a considerable honor.

Only now did the old lady begin to feel a twinge of guilt, along with a flicker of belated fear. Her hand trembled as she reached toward her wrist, though what came out of her mouth was only, “Good, good, good, good…”

Everyone smiled in unison, and for a moment the entire hall fell silent, all eyes fixed on what jewels the commandery prince’s matriarch would bestow upon the young ladies of the Duke’s household.

It would make quite the amusing story to tell tomorrow.

Just at that moment, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the air from somewhere behind them, followed by a second, a third… and soon more and more voices joined in a collective wail.

Screaming, it turned out, was contagious. And so, amid the frantic footsteps of the Duke Song household’s guards and the bodyguards protecting Consort Su, the four members of the Chen family found themselves, oddly enough, quite at ease.

Even Gaoxing had stopped crying, sucking contentedly on his finger, his eyes darting this way and that, unable to look around fast enough.

As the women and children scattered in a panic, Chen Dasheng strode into the hall, supported his grandmother, and said, “Grandmother, it’s dangerous here. Let your grandson help you to the carriage so we can leave for now…”

Just as they crossed the threshold on their way out of the hall, the old lady and Qiqian’er exchanged a knowing smile—one thinking, “What a relief, we’re saved the expense!” and the other thinking, “Well, today wasn’t a loss after all.”