Despite a stomach full of questions, exhaustion won out in the end. Minglan burrowed into the soft warmth of her bedding and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow — not a single dream came to her that night. Tuan Ge’er had curled up against her and sobbed quietly for a little while before drifting off as well, tear tracks still streaked across his small face, his stubby little fingers unconsciously hooking around his mother’s sleeve even in deep sleep.
Mother and son slept so soundly the world ceased to exist around them, and by the time they woke, it was already noon — the very hour the market stalls were opening for business.
Tuan Ge’er seemed to have grown up a great deal overnight. After waking, he neither cried nor fussed. He ate each spoonful Cuiwei offered him obediently, though he clung to Minglan with fierce devotion — anyone who came to hold him was met with a pair of wary, watchful eyes, his small hand clasped tight around his mother’s clothing. But there was much to attend to throughout the mansion, and Minglan had no choice but to coax the little chubby one along: “Shall we go see your sister? Her hand hurts terribly — why don’t you go blow on it and make it better?” Little Chubby blinked his large, bright eyes, hesitated for just a moment, then gave a dutiful nod and allowed Cuiwei to carry him off to the side chamber where Rong Jie’er was resting.
Immediately after, the various estate managers pressed forward in an eager rush, lining up quietly along the corridor in order, each waiting their turn to report on matters great and small.
One night of chaos, half a night of roaring fire — the losses were not insignificant.
The old residence had sustained seven or eight parts in ten of destruction. Fortunately, the ancestral hall had escaped entirely unscathed; the Gu clan’s forebears had seen fit to build it in a secluded, cool, and shaded location, and Minglan thought this showed considerable foresight. The other side, however, had not been so lucky — an entire stretch of woodland had been reduced to ash. She mourned for those red plum trees that had only just burst into blossom, the peach grove whose vivid little green fruits had only just begun to form, and the rows of elegant flowering trees brought in at great expense — all of it, now charred timber.
When searching through the forest, several burned corpses had also been discovered. Minglan was already grieving for the deer and cranes that had perished so innocently in the blaze, and in no pleasant mood, she ordered the bodies wrapped in coarse straw mats and sent to the Shuntian Prefecture office along with the dead bandits left outside the gates.
Beyond these two areas, the rest of Cheng Garden had suffered little significant damage — not counting the half-collapsed stove that Ge Mama had somehow managed to topple in her state of panic.
However heavy the loss of buildings and woodland, these were material things that could eventually be rebuilt and restored. What was truly irreplaceable came after.
After a careful and thorough tally, the Marquis’s household guards and servants had suffered a total of twelve casualties that night. Fourteen were lightly wounded, nine seriously so, and the rest — had already crossed over into the realm of the departed. Minglan sighed deeply and instructed Hao Dacheng to give the fallen a proper burial, with generous compensation to be paid to their wives, children, and elderly parents, as well as to the injured.
Each item Minglan dictated, Xia He recorded with her brush in the ledger, while beside her Luzhi worked her abacus with a rapid clatter, her expression even darker than Minglan’s own — by rough estimate alone, just the compensation payments would amount to upwards of ten thousand taels!
When all the estate managers had finished their reports and filed out one after another, Luzhi’s complexion had turned as green as watermelon rind. Minglan could only comfort her — and herself — saying: “…Think about it carefully. If no one had fought to the death last night holding them off, we’d have been ghosts ourselves by now! Now that the storm has passed and the sky has cleared, one must not forget those who dug the well while drinking its water — and we certainly cannot let the hearts of those beneath us grow cold.”
Luzhi gave a reluctant nod.
True enough in words — yet added to the future costs of rebuilding the residence, nearly half the silver Minglan had diligently accumulated through years of careful household management would be gone in one stroke. Damn it all — just as Brother Bohu once said: the wind blows the eggshell away, and with your wealth gone, your person finds peace!
Minglan clutched her chest in distress for quite some time before she managed to recover herself. She had barely drawn one breath when she noticed the shadows lengthening outside, and then came an abrupt announcement from the outer courtyard: a message had arrived from the Duke of Lingguo’s residence.
“The Zhang Family was not attacked by the bandits last night?” Minglan listened with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
The serving woman reporting from the doorway raised her voice: “That is correct. The Zhang Family passed the night in peace, so the Zhang Madam had no way of knowing the state of affairs here. The moment she heard this morning, she immediately sent someone to inquire after your well-being.”
Minglan asked further: “And the National Uncle’s residence?”
The woman replied: “The messenger said that the area outside is still under martial lockdown, with no information getting through — what exactly is happening there… is unclear.”
Minglan fell silent for a long while. The question that had lodged itself in her heart throughout the night was now forming an increasingly distinct answer.
After this, she summoned several managers from the outer courtyard for questioning and continued attending to matters. Tu Long came, looking haggard, to report that the interior of the estate had been cleaned up and that no trace of bandits remained outside the front or rear gates; Hao Dacheng and Liao Yong’s wife had already organized the servants and miscellaneous staff to tidy and settle the courtyards and rooms, and so on… It took more than another full hour before Minglan finally had a moment to herself. Thinking of Rong Jie’er, she quickly rose and had someone support her as she walked to the side chamber to look in on her.
She was just about to step out the door when she saw Xiaotao come bouncing back from outside, a hint of sweetness at the corners of her lips, wearing an expression of happiness so smug it made one’s hand itch. Minglan halted and gave her a sidelong glare, drawing out her words: “Back at last, are we — ? How is Second Master Shi’s injury?”
Xiaotao replied in her half-dazed way: “Injured? Oh… Shitou Ge only has a few cuts to the flesh — Head Steward Tu said it’s nothing serious.”
Minglan said in a pointed, suggestive tone: “Then why did you take this long to come back?” The mistress had long since woken up and finished managing household affairs, and yet her personal senior maid was nowhere to be seen.
Xiaotao said, embarrassed: “Shitou Ge said… he said, last night was truly terrifying — blood spattering everywhere, corpses lying all over the ground outside the front and rear gates, and every time he thinks of it, his heart pounds so hard, he’s too scared to even close his eyes to sleep!”
Luzhi, still sitting inside recording accounts, felt a chill run through her at these words and nearly pitched head-first into the inkstone. Xia He, who was supporting Minglan, visibly swayed, biting her lip to hold back, but ultimately couldn’t stop herself: “And you believe that?”
Xiaotao blinked in confusion: “Why would Shitou Ge lie to me?”
Xia He, momentarily forgetting to calculate, blurted out naturally: “A man who can raise a blade and cut people down doesn’t lose sleep over nightmares! He was sweet-talking you — he likes you and wanted to spend more time with you!”
Xiaotao’s plump face instantly flushed crimson. Her strong, solid arms gave her a “gentle push,” and she pouted coquettishly: “Oh honestly, what’s all this talk of liking and not liking… you — you’re so tiresome!” Then she turned to Minglan with a shy duck of her head: “Madam, I’ll go help Luzhi now.” And with that, she waddled her round little figure back into the room.
Xia He had been shoved into a stumble and nearly cracked her forehead on the doorframe. Minglan kindly caught her, and offered a sympathetic look: “Don’t bother bickering with that girl, and don’t go poking fun at the Shi family business — you’ll only end up stewing in your own frustration.”
Those two lovebirds — one so blissfully ignorant she had nothing to fear, the other with a shamelessness so absolute it had no equal — truly were a match made by heaven’s thunder and lightning. Minglan turned the idea over in her mind: perhaps she should write to the Shi family couple when the time came, so that after the baby Xiaotao currently carried was born, preparations for the wedding could begin in earnest.
Thinking of Xiaotao soon marrying far away to the Jianghuai region, Minglan felt a small, quiet ache rise in her heart. She walked in silence, head bowed, and in just a few steps arrived at the door of the side chamber, from within which came the faint sound of children’s laughter.
Stepping through and turning left into the inner room, she found Rong Jie’er sitting propped up at the head of the bed. Snuggled against her from the inside, with his chubby legs tucked beneath him, was Tuan Ge’er. Seated on the outer edge of the bed was Xian Jie’er. By the small table beneath the window sat Shao Shi and Qiu Niang on opposite sides, while Cui Mama sat alone beside the round ruyi table, gently blowing on a bowl of dark, bitter-looking medicine — two small plum-blossom-shaped medicinal patches for dispersing bruises and dissolving blood clots still pasted to her forehead.
At the sight of Minglan entering, everyone’s expression shifted in its own way. Qiu Niang smiled and rose to greet her. To everyone’s surprise, Shao Shi rose even faster, leaping up from her seat like a startled rabbit, her face a mask of anxious dread — as though she had just lost her husband all over again. Minglan gave Qiu Niang a nod, did not spare Shao Shi so much as a glance, and walked directly toward the bed.
Rong Jie’er had been gazing dolefully at the medicinal broth in Cui Mama’s hands, but upon seeing Minglan, her face lit up with delight: “Mother, you’re here…” She made to sit up, and Minglan hurried forward to press her back down, saying gently: “What are you getting up for — lie down, quickly.” She then asked whether the injury was still painful and whether there were any other signs of discomfort. Rong Jie’er shook her head. “I took the physician’s medicine, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Minglan’s heart ached with tenderness, knowing well that once the medicine wore off, the pain would only be worse. She parted the girl’s thick hair to examine the wound and found, two inches past the hairline, a patch of scalp covered in pungent dark green medicinal paste, beneath which the raw redness of torn flesh was still faintly visible. She sighed: “Thank goodness you have such a good head of hair — if it were anyone else with thinner hair, there’d be no hiding the wound at all. What a terrible injury. You won’t be able to wear gold or pearl hairpins for at least half a year — they’re too heavy, and the weight will pull at your scalp.”
Rong Jie’er patted her own head and said in an easy, unconcerned manner: “Xian Meimei already said — I don’t look good in the cascade-horse bun style anyway, so I might as well just wear upswept styles from now on. And besides, didn’t Mother just give me a box of those lovely new gauze palace flowers? It’ll be just fine.” Her face was a touch angular and strong-featured rather than delicate, and whenever she tried the softer, more charming looped bun styles, the result was always a peculiar mismatch.
As the conversation turned to Xian Jie’er, Minglan noticed that the girl, who was usually bright and quick-witted, had been subdued ever since Minglan walked in. At the mention of her name, she barely raised her head, casting a cautious sideways glance at Minglan.
Minglan reached out and gently cupped the girl’s face in her hand, saying warmly: “You two are as good as real sisters. Knowing you’re here with Rong Jie’er to keep her spirits up, I can rest easy.”
Xian Jie’er’s eyes filled with tears. Her young face carried a maturity of shame far beyond her years, and she gave a quiet nod. Beside her, Shao Shi opened her mouth as if to speak, but the moment she met Minglan’s cold, indifferent gaze, her voice died in her throat. She had words of apology she wished to say, but with the whole room watching, she could not bring herself to say them aloud.
Minglan turned back to the bed and gently lifted Rong Jie’er’s bandage-wrapped left hand, studying it carefully. She had examined the bandit’s dagger afterward — its edge was razor-sharp. It was only thanks to the girl’s fierce and stubborn nature, that in her anger she had grabbed hold of the blade and held it fast. Had she loosened her grip even for an instant, the blade would have slipped and likely split her entire palm clean in two.
Even so, the blade had cut to the bone, splitting flesh and skin apart — and just looking at it made Minglan’s heart clench with alarm. According to the physician, even after the wound healed, the hand would likely never be as nimble as before.
“Once the lockdown is lifted in a few days, I’ll write to your teacher. What a pity — at least it was your left hand, so writing and such won’t be affected. But embroidery… however shall we manage…” Large embroidery work required one hand on top and one beneath the frame, both working in concert to guide the needle and thread. “It seems there’s no helping it — your sessions with Mistress Hong will have to come to an end…”
Rong Jie’er’s face lit up with barely contained delight, and she blurted out: “Really? I don’t have to study with Mistress Hong anymore? Aiyo—” Before she could finish, she felt a poke to her side from beneath the covers. Xian Jie’er caught her with a meaningful look, and Rong Jie’er immediately understood. She bowed her head at once, adopting a weak and sorrowful tone: “To have fallen short of Mistress Hong’s devoted instruction… your daughter is truly very sorry.”
Minglan had been filled with worry and weariness, but at this sight she couldn’t help letting out a laugh.
The expression was all wrong, the tone was forced and stiff, and the timing was off — it was nothing compared to the effortless, flowing performance she herself could have put on at the same age. Back in those days when she and her sisters had matched wits against one another, even Rulan, who ranked last among them, was far more convincing than these two girls put together — to say nothing of Molan and herself, who were genuine veterans of the craft. Competition truly does breed excellence, it seems.
When the two girls saw Minglan laughing at them, they both ducked their heads, thoroughly flustered and embarrassed. Minglan smiled and patted their small faces: “Now that’s much better — this is more like it. Show this face to your teacher when the time comes.”
The moment she said this, the whole room broke into laughter. Cui Mama set down her spoon over the cooling medicine, shaking her head with an amused smile. Xian Jie’er collapsed against Rong Jie’er’s shoulder in giggles, the two girls covering their mouths and whispering merrily. Qiu Niang stepped forward a pace to join the mood: “Only Madam knows best — reading and accounting and all the rest, our eldest young miss can handle without the slightest trouble. It’s just that fiddly business with needles and thread that vexes her!”
Minglan smiled: “Needlework is meant to cultivate one’s temperament and express womanly virtue — girls of our household needn’t necessarily master it to perfection, otherwise, what would we keep embroiderers for?” She spoke with a certain air of mature composure, privately rather pleased with herself, then after a moment’s thought, she added: “Embroidery may be set aside — but one must still know a few basic stitches for ordinary mending.” She then turned to Qiu Niang: “You’ll have to work a little harder and teach the young miss properly, if you please.”
Rong Jie’er immediately began nodding her head so vigorously it looked like a rattle-drum. Xian Jie’er covered her mouth and flicked a teasing finger across her cheek with a hidden smile. Qiu Niang also promptly declared: “Madam need not worry — this is very much my duty.” The phrasing was technically awkward — a concubine’s duty was supposed to be serving the husband and the principal wife — yet by now, she had quite naturally oriented herself toward the role of a mama-figure instead.
Minglan gave a faint smile and asked after Cui Mama’s head wound. Cui Mama quickly reassured her that it was nothing to worry about.
Qiu Niang, ever perceptive, saw that Minglan still had a slight frown, and offered on her own initiative: “After the physician attended to Cui Mama’s injury, he said it appeared to be nothing serious for now, though he would like to come back and check on her again in a little while.”
Minglan gave a nod. In truth, she would have felt far safer if there were a way to take an x-ray — but in this day and age, what x-rays were there to be had? She could only instruct Cui Mama to rest more.
Seeing she had earned approval, Qiu Niang grew more diligent still and added: “This noon I also went to look in on Mei Yiniang — she was sitting and nursing the little master. Both mother and son looked in excellent spirits.”
Minglan brightened: “That is good news. Otherwise, I’d have no idea how to explain myself to Master Gongsun.”
In last night’s great upheaval, nearly everyone had been caught in its wake — either frightened out of their wits or suffering bodily harm. Yet oddly enough, the ones who had come through entirely without harm were the generally unreliable Qiu Niang and Ruomei.
Since these two had been moved into the side rooms of Shao Shi’s courtyard, both had in fact been terrified to the core.
The two servant women who waited personally on Ruomei had long since received the mistress’s instructions. Knowing full well that this particular Yiniang was sensitive and given to anxious overthinking, they thought it wiser to have her sleep through the trouble than to let her fret herself into a panic. So they discreetly brewed a potent calming tea and dissolved it unnoticed into her medicinal broth.
Ruomei slept straight through until morning, entirely unaware of the night’s swordplay and carnage. By the time she woke, the storm had passed and the skies were clear — she herself felt refreshed and alert, her baby slumbering pink-cheeked in the wet nurse’s arms. Early that morning, mother and child had called out cheerfully for their return to their own courtyard.
Minglan greatly admired those two quick-witted servant women, and rewarded them and the wet nurse alike with ten taels of silver each.
As for Qiu Niang, she had spent the night in a state of anxious dread within her room. When Rong Jie’er went missing, she had initially wanted to go search for her, but had been frightened into staying by her attendants.
“Has Yiniang forgotten Madam’s orders? Madam specifically told Yiniang that no matter what happened, she must not leave the room. If the young miss goes missing, there are maids and servants to find her — if Yiniang insists on going too, then there’s one person searching for another, and if both get lost, things will only be made worse!”
Because Minglan had spent the past while pulling Qiu Niang’s conduct into line with a stern face and firm hand, Qiu Niang now held the mistress’s authority in genuine awe. She obediently stayed put in her room, not daring to stir on her own, and simply pricked her ears to listen to the sounds from outside — the first half of the night passed quietly, while the second half grew very lively indeed.
The clash of blades and the thud of fighting rang out right at the courtyard gate, punctuated by screams echoing through the dark of night. She was so frightened her knees nearly gave way, and she had almost convinced herself to bolt through the window — yet before she had summoned the courage to open it, the bandits had already been dealt with by the guards stationed outside the courtyard.
After that, the guards sent the servant women in to report that all was safe. Once she and her maids let out a long breath of relief, they noticed the sky beginning to lighten and, feeling utterly exhausted in both body and spirit, retired each to their own rooms to rest. From beginning to end, Qiu Niang had suffered nothing more than a fright to the soul — perfectly safe the whole time, as if she had merely listened to a very frightening ghost story.
“…Everyone says last night was terrifying, yet we never even caught a glimpse of whether the bandits were round or flat.” By the end of her account, Qiu Niang was no longer purely flattering the mistress — she spoke with a genuine gratitude in her heart for Minglan’s careful protection. “Mei Yiniang asked me to kowtow in her stead and convey her deepest thanks to Madam. She said it was entirely thanks to Madam’s thorough planning that both she and the child came through without a hair out of place.”
She said this without any intent to wound — but Shao Shi felt shame surge up within her all the same. The color drained and flooded back through her face in rapid succession, and finally, unable to hold back any longer, she stepped forward: “…Sister-in-law… I — I… it was all my foolishness… I very nearly dragged Tuan Ge’er into terrible danger…” Her eyes reddened, and she lifted her handkerchief to cover them. “If anything had happened to the child, I — I truly could never have faced you again…”
Face me again?
Minglan laughed coldly inside. What a light and breezy thing to say. If Tuan Ge’er had truly come to harm because of her, she could have torn Shao Shi apart with her bare hands and it still wouldn’t have satisfied her.
“What fault is there in any of this for Sister-in-law? The human heart is its own province — if Sister-in-law could not trust me and wished to find her own place of refuge, that was entirely reasonable.” The words were pointed and acidic enough to make Xian Jie’er cringe visibly with discomfort.
Shao Shi grew frantic and kept repeating her apologies. Minglan left her dangling deliberately for a while, curious to hear what else she had to say. But Shao Shi was clumsy with words and had little depth to draw from; she circled back again and again to the same few phrases — “I was foolish, I was wrong” — her language utterly without distinction, and her tears far too restrained to appear genuinely pitiful. Even Xian Jie’er secretly shook her head, wondering how such a plea could possibly hope to earn anyone’s forgiveness.
Shao Shi sobbed on for a while. She had supposed that since her sister-in-law was generally easygoing by nature, even if she still harbored some resentment, she would at least offer her a way to save face in front of the others. But left and right she waited, and no words of forgiveness came from Minglan — only a cool, detached change of subject, as Minglan turned away to amuse Tuan Ge’er. Shao Shi found herself standing there in awkward suspension, left with no place to go.
Minglan could only marvel once again — the Sheng family really did produce remarkable people.
If it were Lin Yiniang standing there in Shao Shi’s place right now, faced with a scene where one was invited to confess one’s own fault, she could be counted upon to weep her way through a tale of her own pitiable origins all the way up to the vast indifference of heaven and earth — no one to rely upon, no one to turn to, and only in such desolation could she possibly have done something so muddled — until all who heard it were moved to tears and all who saw it ached with sympathy, until they found themselves pitying her ill-starred fate and forgot entirely what wrong she had done.
Shaking her head inwardly, Minglan wasted no more time. She finished saying a few words to Rong Jie’er, then turned to Shao Shi and said: “There is a matter I had intended to address in a few days’ time. Since I see Sister-in-law is in good enough spirits today, perhaps it would be best to settle it all at once.”
Shao Shi’s heart began to pound wildly. She forced a smile: “Wh-what… what matter…?”
“What else could it be? Ren Yiniang, of course.” Minglan rose slowly from her seat. “She led the bandits through the estate in plain view of countless eyes — there must be an accounting for that.”
With these words, she took Xia He’s arm and walked out first. Shao Shi’s face went deathly pale and she swayed on her feet, visibly reluctant to follow. Xia Zhu, who stood nearby in attendance, quickly stepped forward, seized Shao Shi firmly by the arm, and half-supported, half-steered her along.
The group made their way around to the rear covered walkway and out through a side entrance from Jiaxi Residence, following a small path paved with oval stones leading northward. Minglan walked slowly, her hands cradling her swollen belly as she waddled along. Shao Shi dared not hurry her and had no choice but to force herself to keep pace, step by careful step behind her.
In truth, it was only a short distance, yet to Shao Shi it felt as though she had crossed into another world entirely — a cold sweat had broken out across her forehead by the time they arrived. They came to a side room at the far western end of the rear row of buildings. Inside, there was little furnishing — only a round ruyi table, four stools arranged around it, and a large flower pot set by the window, its soil dry and its grass withered, clearly untended for some time.
Xia He said softly: “It was all so sudden — we only had time for a rough sweeping. Please don’t take it to heart, Madam.”
Minglan looked around and found the windows bright and clean, the floor without a speck of dust. “We’ll only be here a short while,” she said with satisfaction. “There was no need to go to much trouble — this will do very nicely.” She settled herself at the round table and said, “No dawdling — go ahead and have them brought in.”
Xia He acknowledged the order and went out. Xia Zhu, seeing her go, gave Shao Shi a firm shove onto a stool and hurried around the table to take her place at Minglan’s side in attendance.
After a short while, Xia He returned, followed by a group of people. Leading them was Tu Hu, and behind him, two guards flanking a woman whose hands and feet were bound. Last came two servant women dragging in a bound maid. The guards dropped the woman onto the floor and took up flanking positions with arms folded, while the two servant women followed their example and threw the maid down at Minglan’s feet as well.
Shao Shi looked down. The woman on the floor had a full and shapely figure, with almond-shaped eyes — one of which had been blackened by a blow. She was a disheveled, wretched sight, hair loose and tangled, clothes streaked with mud. It was none other than Ren Yiniang.
As for the other person rolling on the floor, it was naturally Bi Si.
Shao Shi pressed a hand to her chest, still dazed and uncertain, when she heard Minglan say pleasantly: “Second Master Tu has been working tirelessly since last night right up until now — he ought to be resting properly. A matter like this could be left to someone else. Why trouble yourself to come in person?”
Tu Hu smiled: “The outside has already been tidied up. Getting this one dealt with is the only thing left before everyone can finally relax and have a proper rest.” And with that, he bent down and pulled the cloth stuffed into the woman’s mouth. “Madam, you may begin your questioning!”
Bi Si had also been gagged, and could only emit low, muffled whimpers, craning her neck to look up at Minglan, her eyes filled with pleading.
Minglan did not look at her. Instead, she turned to Shao Shi with a smile: “What do I have to ask? This is Sister-in-law’s own trusted confidante — it would be better if you did the questioning.”
Shao Shi’s face flushed with shame. She did not dare look at the large, imposing man across the room, and could only fix her eyes on Ren Yiniang. In a small, uncertain voice she managed: “…I — I… why did you lead the bandits in…” Never having managed household affairs in either her own family or her husband’s, she had no authority in her questioning — her words grew quieter with every syllable.
The moment Ren Yiniang saw Shao Shi, she broke into a torrent of wailing tears: “Madam, I’ve been wronged! How would I dare… it was those bandits who threatened me — they had a knife to my throat!”
Before she had finished, Minglan let out a small laugh. “Now, Ren Yiniang — when you’re trying to hoodwink someone, you really should look at the situation first. Take a good look at the setup here. Do you think trying to fool your own mistress is going to be enough to get you through this?”
Ren Yiniang glanced at Tu Hu and the two guards and shrank into herself.
Because Shao Shi was a widow, the maids and servant women around her all dressed in correspondingly dark and subdued styles; they were not permitted to apply rouge and powder or wear hairpins and rings. Minglan had never paid much attention before, but now, looking carefully, even with one eye blackened and both cheeks swollen high, Ren Yiniang’s looks were unmistakably fine. “Whether you were led under threat to Kоu Xiang Courtyard, or whether you colluded with bandits from the inside — did you really think everyone around here is blind?”
Ren Yiniang knew Minglan was no easy mark, not like Shao Shi — yet she clung stubbornly to a last scrap of hope. “In the dark, it’s possible someone saw wrong…” She strained against her bindings and turned to kowtow repeatedly toward Shao Shi. “Madam, we’ve kept each other company all these years — please speak up for me!”
Shao Shi’s lips moved several times, but her gaze brushed Minglan’s ice-cold expression, and whatever she had been about to say retreated back down her throat.
“What a shameless piece of work — you’d keep lying with a coffin right in front of you!” Minglan let out a cold snort. “Very well — I’ll spell it out for you clearly.”
She raised her left hand and pointed at Shao Shi. “Your mistress lives a quiet, sheltered life and keeps her ears closed to the affairs of the household. How could she possibly have known where I had hidden Tuan Ge’er? Qiong Mama from your courtyard has already told us — it was you who informed Sister-in-law and then urged her again and again to look into it herself.”
Shao Shi’s face went the color of fresh blood, her head nearly dropping to her chest. Ren Yiniang opened and closed her mouth in stunned silence. Minglan gave a cold smile: “I thought I had been careful enough in how I managed things — and yet you still managed to catch wind of it. Don’t try to tell me you heard it by chance! It goes to show how closely you’ve been watching this household’s every move.” This was not the kind of thing one could discover through idle gossip — it required constant, deliberate attention to the movements of Jiaxi Residence.
Ren Yiniang trembled, her voice going faint: “…I — I was only watching out for Madam’s sake, and for the young mistress…”
Minglan paid no attention to her excuses and continued: “Once you had persuaded Sister-in-law, you seized the moment while the outer courtyard was thrown into chaos, called Bi Si before you, and questioned her. Sister-in-law is not a woman of strong speech — she sat above, while you used your clever tongue beside her, tempted her with promises of reward, and finally drew out what she knew.”
Bi Si, bound like a shrimp, twisted and writhed with all her strength, letting out muffled cries, glaring at Ren Yiniang with eyes that seemed to shoot fire. Ren Yiniang, for all her scheming, was not truly a practiced villain, and actually could not bring herself to meet Bi Si’s gaze.
“Very well — even taking what you said before as true, that you were watching the movements of my courtyard for your mistress’s sake — once you had found out where Tuan Ge’er was hidden, the right course was to go with Sister-in-law and the others to that hiding place, and stay close to protect your mistress! So where did you actually go?”
Minglan’s eyes were full of contemptuous mockery as she pressed her relentless questions, and Ren Yiniang had no answer to any of them.
“You claimed you needed to use the privy and slipped out. You first encountered the woman from Warm Fragrance Pavilion — you told her you were going to fetch some evening snacks for Sister-in-law, and at that time, she says, neither side of the estate had yet caught fire. Next, Chong Mama at the inner gate spotted you running west — by which time the eastern old residence was already engulfed in fire. And finally, the forest keeper Fu Bo saw you — at a moment when fire had just broken out in the western woodland.”
Minglan’s voice rose steadily, her tone growing sharper with every word. “You are a woman from the inner household — what business did you have running toward the outer courtyard and the woodland in the middle of a chaos? It is plain as day that you were going to provide assistance to the bandits! And furthermore — every single person who saw you that night says there was no knife at your throat at any point. How dare you keep arguing otherwise?!”
Ren Yiniang was backed into a corner, scrambling for answers. Beside her, Tu Hu’s expression turned ruthless and menacing as he drawled with a sinister air: “Why does Madam waste breath on this lowly wretch? Hand her to me. I’ll pull out her bones one by one and see if she’ll talk then!”
Minglan waved her hand to stay him — she was a woman of the new age with respect for due process; one should always try courtesy before force.
Ren Yiniang was struck with terror. She convulsed and curled into herself, struggling desperately to put as much distance between herself and Tu Hu as possible. She shrieked: “Second Madam, spare my life! I’ll tell everything — not another word of denial, I swear it!”
Minglan looked at her coldly: “You know what I want to ask.”
Ren Yiniang bit her lip. Pushing through the numbness in her hands and feet, she said in a trembling voice: “…It was from that Madam’s side… she sent someone to find me.”
Minglan closed her eyes briefly and murmured: “I thought as much. I suspected it was her.”
“…Not just me — there was also someone from that Madam inside the outer courtyard, who had agreed to open the gates and let people in when the time came. But as it turned out, the two Master Tus had called in many strong-armed men from the estate just in time, and both the front and rear gates were kept under their personal watch all night — there was no opportunity to act.” Ren Yiniang said this haltingly, stopping and starting.
Tu Hu was immediately furious and bellowed: “Who is this treacherous rat hiding inside?!”
Ren Yiniang was frightened half out of her wits and blurted: “It was — it was Han from the gatehouse…”
Tu Hu paused. “Han…? But that young man was killed by an arrow last night.” Then he seized Ren Yiniang by the front of her clothing and roared: “Are you making up a dead man’s name just to get yourself off the hook?!”
Ren Yiniang screamed like a pig being slaughtered: “It really was Han! It was him! In the beginning, my part was only to gather information. But just before nightfall yesterday, Han secretly passed word to me that the situation had changed — both gates would likely be unable to open, the people couldn’t be let in, and I was to find out where Tuan Ge’er was hidden and go to the western woodland to provide assistance!”
Tu Hu released his grip and cursed bitterly: “To think sand was mixed right under my nose!” He then turned to Minglan and apologized again and again.
Minglan found it both amusing and sad — the man was already dead, the mission had failed, so what was there left to curse about? Tu Hu was still seething, insisting that once the matter was fully investigated, the compensation payment set aside for Han’s family should be withheld.
Shao Shi had been listening in silence for a long while, and at this point could no longer hold back. She addressed the figure on the floor in a broken, hoarse voice: “…We grew up together since childhood. We shared the same husband. I never treated you poorly — so why did you…”
Ren Yiniang had been huddled on the floor, sobbing softly, but at these words she erupted like a volcano. She heaved herself upright with sheer force, glaring at Shao Shi with venom in her eyes, and let out a shout: “How dare you say you never treated me poorly! You’re the one who ruined me! You! You foolish woman with your pretend kindness!”
Her full chest heaved rapidly as she gasped with ragged breath. “…One by one, the companions who came as part of your dowry all married off. I was the youngest — I assumed that when I came of age, I’d be matched with a decent marriage too. But then — then you gave me to that consumptive wretch! The Master only had a few days left in him, and you weren’t content to be a widow yourself — you had to drag me along with you!”
Shao Shi was completely rattled, and after a long moment, let out a shrill retort: “How — how dare you call the Master a — a consumptive — ?! After Xian’er was born, I had no more children for many years. I saw that you had the look of a woman blessed with sons, and I raised you up with good intentions — if you had given birth to a son, would that not have been a great honor for you?!”
“Honor, my foot!” Ren Yiniang transformed before their eyes, her hair flying wild as she shrieked: “You know perfectly well the state of the Master’s health by then! In his last few years, he couldn’t even perform his marital duties — what son was I supposed to give birth to?! I said long ago I was unwilling — you, you stupid pig, insisted on saying I was just being shy and too modest to show it, and even went and reported it to the old Madam to display your own magnanimity. And the old Madam went straight ahead and set a table to celebrate my entry into the household…”
Remembering those past events, tears streamed down her face. “By that point, I had no choice but to agree whether I wished to or not.”
Shao Shi was dazed and unmoored, murmuring faintly: “So you truly didn’t want to…” In her mind, the late Master Gu Tingyu had always been the best man in the world — and moreover the lord of a Marquis’s household. All she had ever seen and heard in her life was that maidservants were eager to attach themselves to masters and become concubines. How could it possibly be otherwise…?
Minglan watched from the side with cold detachment. Strictly speaking, the private failings of the Gu family’s previous Marquis were not hers to comment on. But then she thought of this pair — one who had bullied her husband in life, the other who had nearly gotten her son killed last night. Minglan made no move to intervene, a faintly sardonic curl to her lips, and sat quietly listening.
“I served that consumptive not even five times altogether. While he lived, you made me live as though already widowed. After he died, you still refused to let me go! You spoke of how we would depend on each other! I was so young — how could you be so heartless?!”
Shao Shi went cold in her hands and feet, and cried out in confusion: “I — I genuinely wanted the household to provide for you in your old age, I…”
“The old age of your mother’s — ! What old age?! I still have my looks and my years — I have most of a lifetime left to live!” Ren Yiniang shrieked. “You were bored out of your mind playing the widow yourself, and just wanted to drag someone along for company!”
Shao Shi was struck dizzy by the tirade, wanting to argue but unable to, her face flushing a deep and splotchy purple. Minglan watched with considerable satisfaction, and only when she saw Shao Shi trembling with rage did she languidly interject: “What a sharp and eloquent tongue — Sister-in-law truly buried her talents. However, I have one question for you: you have lived alongside Sister-in-law for so many years. Do you not know how soft-natured and easy to talk around she is? If you had truly wanted to marry, you had only to say so directly to her. Even if it displeased her, she would not have been likely to punish you — she would eventually have released you. The desire to marry cannot be the only thing driving you, can it?”
At the sight of Ren Yiniang’s expression changing abruptly, Minglan knew she had guessed correctly.
For a concubine whose husband had died to remarry was not, in itself, particularly difficult. But to marry well was another matter entirely — what respectable family of standing would go out of their way to marry a woman who had already been someone else’s? Not without a substantial dowry, or some other form of advancement to sweeten the match.
Ren Yiniang had hoped to marry a trusted estate manager within the Gu household — but with the Gu brothers at odds with each other, there was no chance Minglan would give a concubine who had served the late Gu Tingyu to a capable manager as his wife. And after Shao Shi’s widowhood began, she had grown increasingly tight-fisted with money, intent on saving as much as possible for Xian Jie’er’s dowry. If Ren Yiniang had proposed remarrying on her own, it would have annoyed Shao Shi at the very least — and while she might have been released with her contract voided, there was no hope of receiving a generous dowry into the bargain.
After weighing it all back and forth, she had concluded that aligning herself with that Madam was the better path — with a promising future to be gained from it.
“I…” She had just opened her mouth to argue her case once more when Minglan raised a hand to cut her off.
“Even granting that you had grievances, and acted under duress.” Minglan slowly withdrew her hand. “I have never wronged you. Rong Jie’er and her little brother have never wronged you. Old Uncle An and the others stabbed to death at the edge of the woodland have never wronged you. The servant women and maids who died miserably outside the gates of Kou Xiang Courtyard have never wronged you, not one! And simply because you once suffered hardship, you think you have the right to collude with bandits and take innocent lives?!”
Minglan brought her palm down flat on the table, her face a mask of ice as she stared at Ren Yiniang. The woman had nothing to say in return and lowered her head, her face the color of ash. Minglan turned and said: “The questioning is finished. Second Master Tu, please take her into custody.”
Tu Hu had been waiting for precisely these words. The moment he heard them, he snatched up the cloth and stuffed it back into Ren Yiniang’s mouth. The two guards hauled Ren Yiniang to her feet and Tu Hu led them briskly toward the door — only the muffled wailing of Ren Yiniang could be heard growing fainter in the distance.
Shao Shi stood frozen in place for a long moment, both hands clutched tight around her handkerchief, her face cycling through expressions of embarrassment, anger, and grief before she finally said in a low voice: “…Where — where will she be taken…?”
Minglan pointed toward the door, signaling Xia Zhu to close it, and answered in passing: “She will be turned over to Lord Liu Zhengjie.” The corner of her mouth curved slightly. “Ours is a household that accumulates virtue — even with an internal traitor, it would not be fitting to simply dispose of a life ourselves. Better to hand her over to the authorities to deal with.”
Even Shao Shi, dense as she was, could hear the deeper meaning in Minglan’s words. She paused, then asked quietly: “Lu Niang… what will become of her…” Lu Niang was Ren Yiniang’s given name.
“That will depend on how Lord Liu’s interrogation goes. If the people who attacked last night turn out to be nothing more than common bandits, then Ren Yiniang’s crime will amount to no more than that of an accomplice to robbery. But if the group last night turns out to be associates of rebel conspirators, then Ren Yiniang…” Minglan’s voice was entirely without expression.
For a rebel, the most common fate was execution by strangling or beheading — and for those considered ringleaders, there was always the added delight of the high-artistry penalty known as death by a thousand cuts.
Shao Shi’s mind was a whirlwind of grief and fear. After a long moment she slumped forward against the table and began to weep softly. Minglan felt not the slightest tender sympathy; she said coolly: “Sister-in-law, there’s no rush to cry yet — finish this business first, shall we?” Only then did Shao Shi realize Bi Si was still rolling on the floor, with two servant women on either side. She dabbed her tears and sat herself up properly.
At Minglan’s signal, a servant woman pulled the cloth from Bi Si’s mouth. Having just listened to Ren Yiniang’s full confession, Bi Si was already well aware she had committed a grave and terrible wrong. Pale and trembling with fright, the moment her mouth was freed, she burst into tears: “Madam, this servant knows she was wrong! This servant deserves to die — please have mercy and forgive me just this once!” She kowtowed repeatedly, her mouth running with pleas.
Xia He noticed the clear features of the girl’s face covered in grime and bloodstains, and felt a private pang of pity — then without warning she heard Minglan say to her: “Bring it out, please.” She quickly recovered herself and drew a small wrapped bundle from inside her sleeve and placed it on the table.
It was a pair of bracelets wrapped in silk — the bangles entirely of solid gold, fashioned in a wide, rounded lotus-leaf cuff pattern, set with several luminous pearls, and at each clasp a yellow-bean-sized cat’s eye gem.
At the sight of them, Shao Shi’s face went through a rapid alternation of green and red, and she shot Minglan a guilty glance. Minglan toyed idly with the bracelets. “These were part of the betrothal gifts the Gu family gave to Sister-in-law, were they not? Truly fine pieces.”
Shao Shi dared not answer and simply bobbed her head a few times in an aimless nod.
“And for the sake of this pair of bracelets, you sold out me and Tuan Ge’er?” Minglan’s voice remained gentle and soft.
Bi Si shook like a sieve and cried: “No — no, it wasn’t like that… when I saw it was the First Mistress, I thought — Madam trusts the First Mistress so much in the usual way of things — I thought it would be fine to tell her…”
“What did Cui Mama tell you? Not even heaven’s own king himself was to be told a single word — not even the First Mistress.” Minglan’s tone was flat and indifferent. “And those instructions — you fed them all to the dogs?”
Bi Si had nothing to say in reply and could only continue kowtowing, before casting beseeching looks at Xia He and Xia Zhu, hoping they might plead her case.
Xia Zhu, soft-hearted by nature, was already on the verge of opening her mouth when Xia He gave her sleeve a firm tug, holding her back.
It was not that Xia He was hard-hearted — she simply understood the mistress’s character better than anyone. Once Minglan had made up her mind about something, very few people could change it. And moreover—she let her gaze drift slowly around the room, then quietly bowed her head.