There was a reason Su Shi had been able to move against Tao Huiru.

For all that Xie Sheng held no high official post, he was a seasoned old hand in the capital’s official circles.

In years past, he had served as a subordinate officer under Yang Xun.

When Yang Xun was defeated and the entire Yang clan was executed to the last, no one dared step forward to speak on the Yang family’s behalf.

But that did not mean Yang Xun’s network of connections had been severed. Many of the military officers Yang Xun had brought up through the ranks had since set aside their armor and entered civil service, and now held positions large and small throughout the government.

So among the court, old veterans of General Yang’s forces formed a quiet, unofficial faction of their own — one that dared not show its reverence for General Yang openly, but held it quietly in reserve, waiting.

And among the common people, Yang Xun’s reputation had never diminished.

Over these many years, because Yang Xun’s body had never been returned to his homeland for burial, the folk had woven many tales — that Yang Xun had not died, that he was still out on the northern frontier, still defending the land.

Even the civilian militia bands in the north that had spontaneously risen up to resist the Jing Kingdom’s incursions flew the banner of the old Yang Family Army.

Yang Xun had become a sentiment deeply embedded in the hearts of the people of Great Jin — especially in times of tension between the court and the Jing Kingdom, when longing for the old general ran deeper still.

Just days ago, the Jing Kingdom envoy Ke Cha had drunk himself blind drunk at the courier station, and in the midst of his intoxication, had strangled a singing girl who had been entertaining him to death with his bare hands, then threw her, half-undressed, out of the station.

So as not to disrupt the peace negotiations between the two nations, this horrifying matter had been suppressed by the station’s officials.

Such swallowing of humiliation in silence only made people yearn all the more for the glorious days when General Yang had still been present — when had Great Jin’s officials ever needed to bow and scrape so obsequiously before the tigers and leopards of the Jing Kingdom?

So the wives and families in the old Yang Xun circle all felt the weight of this keenly.

And Su Shi, having begun to harbor dark resentment toward Tao Huiru, inevitably spoke of this Yang family survivor — this daughter-in-law who had come through alone — and what her character was worth.

These veiled insinuations caused many old acquaintances to recall Tao Huiru’s ambiguous position during the Yang family’s downfall, and the shadowy, half-substantiated rumors that had circulated at the time about her betraying the Yang family.

In short, at this particular moment in time, linking Tao Huiru to the events of those past years left a sour and uncomfortable feeling in people’s hearts.

Tao Huiru understood clearly enough what it was that Su Shi had been saying about her behind her back.

But she had not followed all this way merely to confront Chu Linlang.

Earlier during the banquet, since no one had sought her out in conversation, she had found herself with leisure to observe Chu Linlang at the table across the way.

Such a young woman, just at the height of her years — no children to speak of, so her face remained as taut and smooth as a girl’s.

But when Tao Huiru’s gaze dropped to her bare wrists, her eyes narrowed sharply.

Because on those wrists, there seemed to be the imprint left from wearing a bracelet through the night — the kind that appears when something has pressed against the skin for a long time after it has been removed. Chu Shi’s complexion was white as snow, and her skin was too delicate. The mark left on the inside of the bracelet had not fully faded from her pale skin.

The pattern was somewhat blurred and difficult to make out clearly.

But Tao Huiru recognized it at a glance — it was the Buddhist mantra “Padma,” meaning lotus.

She had once seen this same bracelet imprint on another person’s pale, snow-white wrist.

That person was her old friend Wen Shi. She had always loved to show off the Yang family heirloom jade bracelet to her, and Tao Huiru recalled clearly that the inside of that bracelet was carved with exactly this style of script. Furthermore, the ancestral jade bracelet had originally borne no inscription at all.

But when Wen Shi had first arrived in the capital, unfamiliar with the place and struggling to settle in, she would often lie awake at night unable to sleep.

And so Yang Yi had taken the ancestral jade bracelet to the imperial temple, earnestly requesting the great master Lingyun to bless it and inscribe the Lotus Mantra upon it — purifying Wen Shi’s troubles with the purity of the Buddhist lotus.

Because engraving the inside of a jade bracelet was a delicate matter — done carelessly, it could crack the jade — Yang Yi had also paid handsomely to find a master craftsman of great skill, who had produced these two characters shaped like a bud opening, their meaning carrying all of Yang Yi’s singular devotion to Wen Shi at that time.

Whenever Wen Shi showed it off back then, Tao Huiru would smile on the surface while swallowing the bitterness in her heart.

Later, Wen Shi had gone mad, and she had taken Wen Shi’s place as the Yang family’s daughter-in-law — as she had always desired. Yet when she had asked about that ancestral bracelet, meant for the eldest daughter-in-law, Yang Yi had dismissed it lightly, telling her the bracelet had been broken by Wen Shi.

Although Tao Huiru had felt some dissatisfaction, she had believed him.

Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought that one day, she would see what looked like the same imprint on the wrist of another young woman.

When Chu Linlang’s gaze swept in her direction, Tao Huiru lowered her eyes without a trace of reaction.

But her heart had plummeted to the very bottom.

She was certain of it — that engraved script was one of a kind, with no duplicate in existence, which meant that Chu Linlang had in her possession that ancestral Yang family jade bracelet.

Questions that had been painstakingly buried since Jiangkou surged back up from the depths of Tao Huiru’s heart, growing wildly out of control once more.

Chu Linlang had been a neighbor of that madwoman… Could it be that this Chu Shi had somehow come to possess the madwoman’s jade bracelet by chance when she was a child?

And so, after the banquet concluded, she had intended to find Chu Shi for a chat — to probe her, to ask what kind of jade bracelet she had been wearing before.

But she had not anticipated that, quite by chance, she overheard Tao Yashu asking Chu Linlang about that teacher.

This in itself was nothing extraordinary — the two of them had said nothing out of the ordinary, only the usual friendly concern one former classmate might show for a teacher they had once shared.

At the time when they had been caught in danger at the oasis, Tao Huiru had witnessed her niece fussing over Liao Jingxuan, bringing him medicine and tending to his injuries with solicitous care.

But in those chaotic moments of upheaval, with people’s lives on the line, no one had been in a position to worry about such niceties, and everyone had been looking out for each other’s injuries. Tao Huiru had not thought much of it at the time.

Yet her niece, as a rule, never uttered a single idle or superfluous word. She had taken the rare opportunity of this outing from the palace and was now pulling Chu Linlang aside into a private corner to chat — yet her sole focus was the teacher. The girl must be deeply invested in this person.

At the thought of this, Tao Huiru found herself laughing in startled realization. All this time she had been spreading gossip, she had apparently been spreading it about the wrong person.

Her niece, who prized cleanliness and order to an absolute extreme, had her heart set on a man who was as disheveled and unruly as a dripping mop.

Tao Huiru couldn’t hold back a laugh. Her son, Tao Zan, came looking for her just then: “Mother, what are you laughing about?”

Tao Huiru straightened her son’s collar. “Nothing, just stumbled upon someone else’s little joke… By the way, I’ve already requested a favor from the Crown Prince on your behalf — to have you assigned to a minor post handling sacrificial duties at the imperial temple. The rank isn’t high, but it will familiarize you with sacrificial rites and ceremonies, which will serve you well. Over the next few days, don’t go out to play — make sure you read through and memorize the ceremonial protocols for the sacrifices.”

Tao Zan’s face fell at once. “Mother, you’re already half a monastic yourself — why do you want to drag me into such a place too? Are you trying to make me take vows as well?”

Tao Huiru’s expression went rigid. “What nonsense are you talking! Are the officials who handle temple sacrifices all monks? This is a leisurely and comfortable post that most people couldn’t obtain even if they tried. Even Confucius himself once served in the Grand Temple — a most refined and scholarly position indeed!”

The last time she had sought a post for her son, she had been sharply rebuked by the Duke of the Tao family.

Tao Huiru felt some resentment at that, but she also understood that her son’s status as a grandson of the Yang family was a hurdle that simply could not be avoided.

And with tensions mounting at the frontier, with no one knowing whether open conflict might break out, securing a quiet post at an imperial temple was the wisest path to self-preservation.

In all the years since Yang Yi had left her, Tao Huiru had placed every hope and ambition she possessed into her son, and naturally she exhausted herself thinking through every step of his future.

Having stumbled upon her niece’s private feelings quite unexpectedly, Tao Huiru found it was no longer a good moment to approach Chu Linlang with her questions.

With that, she took her son and bid farewell to the hosts, then departed through the gates of the Wang family.

The jade bracelet still weighed on her heart like a grinding stone. Since there was no opportunity to ask Chu Linlang right now, she had another way — she could ask another person directly involved.

She sent her son home ahead of her, then turned and had a servant boy deliver a note to the courier station. She herself proceeded to a quiet tea house in the city, reserved the entire second floor, and waited patiently for someone to arrive.

Before long, a tall and imposing figure appeared at the top of the staircase, then stepped into the private room.

“Didn’t we agree that if nothing urgent arose, you wouldn’t need to come looking for me?”

At the man’s words, Tao Huiru’s fury burned within her, yet she suppressed it by force, and asked, without preamble: “The ancestral jade bracelet of your Yang family — it was never destroyed, was it? You gave it to his son.”

The one who had arrived was Yang Yi himself. He removed his black hood, revealing sharp and deep-set eyes — which, at Tao Huiru’s sudden and unexpected question, narrowed slightly.

He was on the verge of saying the bracelet had been broken long ago, when Tao Huiru cut him off urgently: “Yang Yi, the trust between us is already walking on thin ice. I am not the kind of fool Wen Shi was, incapable of enduring being deceived over and over. So before you answer me, think carefully — do not destroy the last shred of trust I have in you.”

Yang Yi did not know that Tao Huiru was bluffing. Nor did he understand why she was asking this question.

But Tao Huiru was right — he was in the capital now and did not want complications. And this Tao Shi still had her uses for him. He had no desire to fall out with her too soon.

So after a moment’s consideration, he answered honestly: “It should be so… yes.”

Hearing Yang Yi change his answer, Tao Huiru felt the blood surge with fury through her heart.

So the jade bracelet had survived all along — then why had he refused to give it to her? What had his reasoning been?

She suppressed the bitterness welling up inside her and pressed further with conviction: “The bracelet ended up in his son’s hands, didn’t it?”

Yang Yi narrowed his eyes and said nothing, his expression suggesting one could not expect another word to be pried from his lips.

But Tao Huiru simply went ahead and gambled on the bluff outright: “His son is still alive, then. When you came back to the capital this time — did you make a point of seeing him?”

Yang Yi narrowed his eyes and still said nothing, clearly weighing how much this former wife of his actually knew.

At this, Tao Huiru was entirely certain in her heart.

If that son — said to have died in infancy from illness — were truly gone, or if he were not in the capital, Yang Yi would not be reacting this way.

With that thought, her mind moved swiftly, and she decided to test and verify the suspicion she had harbored for so long: “What’s the matter? Didn’t Situ Sheng feel glad to see you?”

Yang Yi truly had not anticipated that Tao Huiru would recognize Situ Sheng as Wen Shi’s child. He involuntarily furrowed his brow and asked: “What exactly are you trying to do?”

Tao Huiru herself had not expected that one brazen gambit would confirm everything.

To think that Situ Sheng was the child born of Yang Yi’s liaison with Wen Shi after their marriage — after so many years of pent-up fury, it erupted all at once.

She lunged forward and struck Yang Yi squarely across the face, then snarled in a low and furious voice: “You miserable wretch! Have you ever truly regarded me as the rightful wife of the Yang family? To give the ancestral heirloom bracelet to that bastard child! You’ve treated me with the utmost contempt!”

Still not satisfied after saying this, she swung her hand back to deliver a second blow — but Yang Yi caught her wrist and struck her back across the face: “You dare call him a bastard? He is the legitimate firstborn son of the Yang family — his mother’s bracelet is his by right. What claim have you to deny him that?”

He had not held back much force, and Tao Huiru staggered badly from the blow, stumbling back and falling onto the floor. But she glared back with unbroken hatred: “He… he is the legitimate firstborn of your Yang family? Then what does that make my Zan’er?”

Yang Yi was unaware that Tao Huiru had mistakenly believed Situ Sheng to be the child Wen Shi bore in Jiangkou, and so he continued: “He was raised by my father from childhood — why would he not be the legitimate firstborn? Is it only because your son — born of a high-born second wife — that he alone qualifies to be the legitimate firstborn?”

Tao Huiru paid no heed to his barbs, and stared with suddenly widened eyes: “He… he is Yang Jiexing? He didn’t die?”

Yang Yi heard something was off and frowned: “If you recognized him — who else could he be but Yang Jiexing?”

At this, all of Tao Huiru’s venom stuck fast in her throat.

If Situ Sheng had been a child born outside of wedlock, she would naturally have had grounds to make a scene with Yang Yi. But he was Yang Jiexing — the legitimate eldest son born to Wen Shi within the marriage, the proper and rightful firstborn grandson of the Yang family.

Yet even so, Yang Yi had dared to hit her? Did he not know — if she wished — she could send both father and son straight to prison?

Even as these thoughts surged through her, Yang Yi had already crossed the room and crouched down before her. “The last time we spoke, I laid out what was at stake for both of us very clearly. I’ve never pursued you for what you did back then — conspiring with the Crown Prince to pull the ground from under the Yang family. In return, you should hold your tongue and live your life in peace. After all, if my situation comes to light, it will inevitably stir up senseless turmoil. And if you expose Jiexing’s identity — aren’t you afraid of dragging your own Zan’er into it as well? Because if that wretched emperor realizes my son has been biding his time right at his side for so long, he’ll be having nightmares — and he’ll make sure to root out and destroy every last child of mine.”

The bond between them had been one Tao Shi had engineered by exploiting the tension between him and Wen Shi — a carefully laid scheme from the start, never warmed by any real tenderness.

And now that this former husband and wife were face to face again after all these years, each was impatient to find and press upon the other’s weakness.

Tao Huiru’s weakness was her son, Tao Zan.

Yang Yi was right. If Situ Sheng’s identity were ever exposed, Zan’er could very well be caught up in the emperor’s suspicion and face death.

At this thought, she ground her teeth in silent fury, then let out a cold laugh: “What does it matter that he’s the firstborn? Do you know who he gave your family’s ancestral bracelet to?”

Seeing that Yang Yi clearly had no knowledge of this, Tao Huiru laughed coldly: “He’s now tangled up with a twice-married merchant woman surnamed Chu — and he even gave her the bracelet. Truly your worthy son, with the same taste in women as his father — turning his nose up at those of equal standing, always reaching down toward the lowly. The Yang family’s eldest daughter-in-law is really quite something, one astonishment after another.”

Yang Yi heard this and could not help but narrow his eyes again, now understanding how Tao Huiru had recognized Situ Sheng.

Recalling how Situ Sheng had gone to such lengths to make it appear he and that woman had no connection — and how he had believed it — Yang Yi felt anger kindle inside him.

The Yang family’s blood feud remained unavenged, and yet that boy had surrendered himself to a world of soft comfort, and with a woman so unworthy at that!

Tao Huiru, watching the barely concealed anger on Yang Yi’s face, felt her own pain ease somewhat.

She rose to her feet, dusted herself off with elegant composure, and remarked with studied casualness: “I can see the boy’s temperament mirrors yours completely — once he’s decided on a woman, he won’t turn back until he runs into a wall. If you intervene directly, it will likely only backfire. But a merchant woman of some passing good looks — what difference is there between her and that singing girl who died at the courier station a few days ago? Both are lowborn women whose deaths would leave no trace. Is that not so?”

At these words, Yang Yi turned and regarded her with cold eyes, as though deliberating over the meaning behind what she had implied.

Tao Huiru had long since abandoned the pretense of a virtuous woman before him. The years of solitude and resentment in the inner chambers had long since turned whatever love she had once felt for Yang Yi into a heart of coiling venom.

She simply pressed further, bringing her lips close to Yang Yi’s ear, and smiled: “When your Jing Kingdom envoys depart, you can hardly go back empty-handed. That woman runs a shop in the capital and returns there to keep it during the day — you ought to fulfill the duties of a host and accompany them to pick up some local goods to take back.”

That Ke Cha was lecherous and brutal. If he caught sight of someone of Chu Linlang’s looks, how could he possibly let her go? And if Chu Shi were to resist, her fate likely would not be much better.

Furthermore, given Great Jin’s current frantic posture of desperate accommodation toward the Jing Kingdom in hopes of resolving the conflict — even if Ke Cha got that Chu Shi killed, there would likely still be someone to step in and cover it up.

Yang Yi shoved her away sharply, his eyes carrying an indescribable revulsion: “How did I never notice before what a venomous mind you have?”

Tao Huiru gave a cold smile: “I’m merely offering you a suggestion. Whether you use it or not is entirely up to you. Besides — a woman with a heart of poison was made that way by you, you faithless man. You would do well not to bite the hand of someone helping you. After all, Situ Sheng is Zan’er’s elder brother by the same father — if he flourishes in his career, why would he not help his younger brother advance?”

Having said this, Tao Huiru had no patience to waste more words on Yang Yi. She straightened her neck, maintaining the pride of a legitimate daughter of the Tao family, and descended the stairs on her own, her cheek still swollen and red.

After the Yang family’s fall, she had raised her son alone, surviving in the cracks of a world that had turned against them. Had she been soft and allowed others to trample over her and her son, how would she have brought him through?

Did anyone actually think that without a powerful backer, they could walk all over the two of them without consequence?

She would not let go of a single person who had wronged her.

Yang Yi now had the Jing Kingdom at his back, and any conflict with him might also drag her son into it — she could only tread cautiously around him and Situ Sheng, fearing to disturb what she couldn’t afford to disturb.

But given Su Shi’s particular intelligence — had Chu Linlang not pointed things out, would she ever have turned against her?

When she thought of the humiliation of being cold-shouldered and ignored at the banquet today, Tao Huiru would never let Chu Linlang — the one who had set all of this in motion — go free.

Knowing Yang Yi as she did, she was certain he would never allow his son to slip from his control.

And Yang Yi had always looked forward to the day when the Jing Kingdom and Great Jin would go to war — to march straight to the imperial city and slaughter the wretched emperor in revenge for the Yang family’s annihilation.

He more than anyone did not want the two nations to reach a peace settlement. If Ke Cha were to act again and destroy Situ Sheng’s most prized person, Situ Sheng was unlikely to let that Ke Cha walk out of Great Jin alive.

If it came to that — the peace talks would collapse, and Yang Yi would get exactly what he had hoped for.

Tao Huiru knew this old companion of her bed all too well. Even if he had not yet harbored thoughts of killing Chu Shi, he would never pass up such an opportune chance to sow discord between the two nations.

At the thought of this, Tao Huiru laughed again, alone in her swaying carriage.

She could hardly wait to see how that sharp-tongued Chu Shi would handle the tigers and wolves that were about to come knocking at her door.

Now, as for Chu Linlang — after attending young Miss Guan Jinhe’s wedding banquet that day, she had bid Tao Yashu a reluctant farewell.

Word had it that driven by the Tao family’s maneuvering, court officials had been presenting one memorial after another to His Majesty calling for the appointment of an empress.

Of course, this was also a grand effort to build momentum at court for the Tao family to produce another empress.

Tao Yashu had no way to avoid it, and could only seize these brief moments when she left the palace to breathe a little freer. The hope she had once cherished of enduring as a female official until she was eventually permitted to leave the palace — she had quietly put that wish to rest.

As the legitimate daughter of the Tao family, this was her fate, and there was no escaping it.

The Tao family had invested so much — how could they allow such a vital piece on the board to slip from her place?

Tao Yashu had not troubled her close friend and confidante with any of these hopeless matters. Yet she had reminded her to keep a close watch on Situ Sheng — because wedding banquets were the prime hunting ground for matchmaking enthusiasts, and it appeared Lord Situ had been surrounded by quite a number of the capital’s most enthusiastic match-making matrons.

Chu Linlang simply smiled, and said nothing to Tao Yashu about the betrothal she had already made with Situ Sheng.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Tao Yashu. Rather, she felt that the fewer people knew of this, the more room it might leave Situ Sheng to maneuver in the future.

If the day ever came when the ambitions he carried in his heart could be realized, his true identity laid bare before the world, and the burden of his origins no longer weighing on him — perhaps he would discover that his choices had grown far wider than he had imagined, and that he need not confine himself to the girl next door whom he had come to know through shared hardship.

Chu Linlang did not regret the betrothal with Situ Sheng. But she wanted to give him the chance to change his mind.

Holding to this way of thinking, even knowing that Situ Sheng had matchmakers hovering around him, Chu Linlang made a point of not letting these thoughts take up too much of her mind.

Since the month-end accounting happened to be coming up, most of her days were spent at her city shop going over the books.

Business seemed particularly good today, with a steady stream of customers coming through.

Just as Chu Linlang was in the back room working the abacus, she heard an unusual commotion break out in the front hall — all at once, it seemed, a great many people had poured in.

She couldn’t help but rise and peer out through the curtained doorway.

The people at the front were dressed in the style of the Jing Kingdom, every one of them speaking in a loud, unruly manner, carrying the brash arrogance of those from beyond the frontier.

They even drove the other customers away, announcing that no one was to linger and impede their leader’s shopping.

Chu Linlang did not go out to receive them herself, instead letting the shopkeeper lead the assistants forward to attend to the visitors.

She went upstairs and looked down from above, recognizing the carriage they had arrived in as belonging to the city’s courier station. These people were clearly among the Jing Kingdom envoys who had come to the capital for negotiations.

From the sound of things, they intended to choose some fabrics and jewelry before leaving the capital, to bring back as gifts for their concubines.

Situ Sheng had told her about their visit — that they had treated the whole trip as a pleasure excursion. Aside from the formal negotiations with the court, the rest of their time was reportedly spent at the courier station in all-night feasting, with a constant parade of singing girls.

One of the envoys, a certain Ke Cha, was said to be especially lecherous and brutal.

Word had it that just days ago, Ke Cha had drunk himself into a stupor and somehow managed to torture a singing girl to death with his bare hands. She didn’t know if that particular individual was among this group.

From behind the curtain, Linlang observed carefully and noticed that the Jing Kingdom guards were largely clustered around one heavily built man.

This towering, powerfully built man had the typical look of a Jing Kingdom native — a broad back, a powerful physique, leopard-like eyes, a wide nose, and a face full of harsh, brutal lines.

He was looking over the shop’s merchandise with undisguised impatience and said irritably to the guard captain beside him: “Weren’t we supposed to go to a nearby inn for drinks? Why have you brought me here?”

The guard captain hastily explained: “Commander Hu Dulie specifically asked me to make a detour to this shop on the way to the inn, to pick up some gifts for his family to take home.”

“Hmph, just like a spineless man who survives by sleeping his way to favor — wherever he goes, he can’t stop thinking of ways to please our delicate little princess…”

Just then, the man suddenly went quiet and began staring with undisguised hunger at Dongxue, who had just walked in through the shop entrance.

Dongxue had gone across the street to buy a sweet rice wine dessert for Chu Linlang, and on her way back, had walked straight into this crowd of people.

When Chu Linlang looked down from upstairs, peering through the curtain and catching sight of the leading Jing Kingdom man staring at Dongxue with that hungry expression, she felt a sharp stab of alarm.

—