Chapter Nine

With Ming Tan’s big performance concluded, all that remained to do was wait quietly for good news.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Ming Tingyuan slammed the door and stormed out. Madam Pei hurried after him in a fluster, but spoke to him calmly and orderly, and at last managed to dissuade Ming Tingyuan from charging straight off to the Duke of Lingguo’s residence.

Recalling the letter that said the two biological brothers had been brought back to the capital and could be confronted face to face at any time, Madam Pei ordered preparations of gifts and carriages, planning to go with Ming Tingyuan first to the Marquis of Chang’s mansion.

Going to the Duke of Chang’s residence serves two purposes: first, to meet the two brothers and learn the whole story face to face. Second, Duke Chang Bai Jingyuan is Mingtan’s maternal uncle; this marriage was arranged while his sister Madam Bai was still alive. If the matter of breaking the engagement can be discussed with him first, it will better show the friendship between the two households—

The Marquis of Jing’an’s household planned to call off the engagement, but the Duke of Chang’s household remained completely unaware. Word had reached Madam Li of the Duke’s household that the Marquis had already returned home; there are no walls that don’t leak, and if they wanted to save this match, they couldn’t let the matter fester within their own house.

She called no one early in the morning and had servants pack and prepare a carriage to send people out of the capital.

“The situation has come this far, Zhu’er, it’s not that Aunt doesn’t care for you; Aunt and your cousin have thought of many plans, but…” Li said, looking at the girl who had cried herself into a limp heap on the floor of her room, pity in her voice. “You should take Brother Min and go live in Lizhou for a while. Once Miss Ming has entered the household and the married couple develop feelings for each other, then when you tell her about you and Brother Min there will naturally be room to negotiate.”

“If feelings develop there, how could Miss Ming consent to take a concubine?” The woman called “Zhu’er” wept without stopping. “With a cherished wife in his arms, how could my cousin still remember Zhu’er then!”

“How could that be!” Liang Zixuan hurriedly stood up.

Madam Li shot him a look, signaling him to be silent, then turned to Zhu’er and said softly, “Min Ge’er is your cousin’s eldest son, and you are Min Ge’er’s birth mother—how could he not remember you? This arrangement now is entirely for your cousin’s future; your cousin’s future is also Min Ge’er’s future. Isn’t such a simple truth clear to you?”

At these words, Zhu’er wiped away her tears and, eyes flickering, looked toward Madam Li.

“All right, everything in Lizhou has been taken care of. You can rest assured and stay put. When the time comes, your cousin will personally come to fetch you and your mother back to the capital in style.”

Zhu’er wanted to argue further, but Madam Li lowered her eyes, lifted her teacup, and made it clear with her silence that the matter was closed and she would not discuss it anymore.

A maid beside the marquis, seeing this, stepped forward and seized Zhu’er. One woman held each side, half dragging, half escorting her out.

“Cousin! Cousin… “

Zhu’er looked at Liang Zixuan unwillingly, calling his name again and again.

Liang Zixuan felt a bit reluctant; after all, the two of them had shared many intimate days and nights. Once Zhu’er left the courtyard, he couldn’t help but plead, “Mother, is there truly no room for compromise in this matter? Cousin she—”

“You only have yourself to blame!” Madam Li slammed down her teacup heavily and snapped coldly. “Go back and sober up. Don’t be an eyesore in front of me!”

Outside, Liang Zixuan presented the image of a graceful young nobleman, but at home he dared not contradict his mother. After being scolded twice, he was frightened into making a hurried bow and left in haste.

Watching Liang Zixuan’s retreating figure, Madam Li closed her eyes, her head pounding fiercely.

Among the women of the inner residence, she had already earned a reputation for being decisive and efficient.

Before the palace banquet began that day, she had been pondering how to ensure Ming Dan would be smoothly married into the household. When leaving the palace, she had seen from afar that Ming Dan had not boarded the Jing’an Marquis’ carriage, but had walked off hand in hand with Bai Minmin, and an idea quickly formed in her mind.

She sent someone to follow them at a distance, then returned home and carefully explained to Liang Zixuan just how important this marriage was and how awkward their current situation had become.

They reported that Ming Tan and Bai Minmin had left the Listening-to-Rain Pavilion and gone to South Imperial River Street; she immediately made a decisive move and concocted the staged drowning rescue.

If her plan had unfolded as designed, it would have been a perfect solution—neither jeopardizing the marriage nor, by using it as leverage, having to let Zhu’er and her son go. Who could have imagined her son, useless in success and a calamity in failure, not only botching the performance but also being forced to take on the role of the drowning party himself.

With this plot foiled and the Marquis Jing’an returning so quickly, what else could she do? She had no choice but to resort to this last-ditch measure and make Zhu’er and her son disappear!

Her chest tight with anxiety until midday, a servant came to report: “Madam, Cousin and the young master have already left the city.”

The weight pressing on Madam Li’s heart finally lifted. She waved wearily and dismissed the attendants, intending to rest in peace—

From the capital to Lizhou, the journey was neither very long nor very short. With fresh horses it could be done in two days; by carriage it would be slower, taking about seven days.

After days of jostling and fatigue, as they clearly moved farther from the capital’s bustling splendor, the servants began to show their disdain from the moment they left the city, and Zhur’s resentment only grew stronger.

“Miss, let’s stop here for the day. The road ahead is bad; if we push on, it will be hard to find an inn before dark.”

Zhu’er drew back the carriage curtain, looked around, and frowned: “This place is so rundown, how can we stay here?”

Tired after a day, the servant had no mood to deal with this cousin who’d had a child but still couldn’t possibly be carried into the mansion, and replied impatiently, “If you won’t rest, then travel on by yourself.”

“You!”

The servant stretched, paid her no mind, and went into the inn. The wet nurse also climbed down from the other carriage, carrying the sleeping child inside.

Zhu’er had no choice and had to get out of the carriage.

She followed them into the inn, wanting to go forward and see her own child, but the wet nurse stood to one side and wouldn’t let her: “Miss, the madam repeatedly instructed me to take good care of the young master, so you needn’t trouble yourself. You should get some rest.”

Zhu’er: “Min Ge’er is my child—what do you mean by that!”

The wet nurse, like the servant before, carried the child inside to rest and paid her little mind.

Zhu’er had a vague premonition of something and her heart instantly went ice-cold.

She sank down as if all her strength had drained away and sat rigidly at the table for a long while; the steam from the food had nearly dissipated before she, belatedly, picked up her chopsticks.

But from the table behind her a strange man’s warning suddenly came: “It’s drugged, don’t eat it.”

Zhu’er froze, instinctively about to turn her head.

The man added, “Don’t look back. Someone’s watching.”

Hearing “drugged” and “someone’s watching,” Zhu’er panicked, her thoughts turning into a tangled mess; she didn’t know whether to trust the stranger behind her.

Just then, she caught sight of a stray cat nosing around under the table for scraps, so she feigned clumsiness and let the dish slip from her grasp.

The stray cat mewed a few times, sauntered over lazily, licked at the food, and then picked at it and swallowed. Even after a long while, though, the cat showed no particular reaction.

“You lied to me?” Zhu’er’s voice trembled, and there was a hint of uncertainty.

The man explained, “Ruanjin San only makes a person weak all over, unable to escape; it’s not lethal.”

Zhu’er gathered herself and stared at the wildcat for a while. It was curled up in its place, lazily flicking its tail, indeed not moving much, but that’s just a cat’s nature—proof of nothing.

Wait… she suddenly became alert: “What did you say? Why would I run?”

“Returning to Lizhou you’ll be married to the steward of Zhuangzi as a concubine; would the young lady not want to run away? Or does she think she can still wait for the day when she returns to the capital in glory?”

Zhu’er, hearing this, felt as if struck by lightning.

Since leaving the capital, the attitudes of those around her had indeed filled her with foreboding, but married off to the steward as a concubine… no, impossible, how could that be! Besides, she still had Min ge’er—Min ge’er was her cousin’s eldest son; her aunt and cousin would never treat her like this!

The person behind her continued, “The Lady of the Linguguo household has a dowry estate on the western outskirts of Lizhou. The estate’s steward is over forty. A few years ago his first wife died of illness and he never remarried. He only has four quarters of concubines and five sons. In the past few days the steward’s household has been putting up lanterns and wedding notices; once the young lady arrives she can be immediately married with the three-bows ceremony.”

“As for the young master, blood ties are inseparable. If there’s a chance in the future he can be recognized and returned to his ancestral line, but he will never have any connection with you again. You, miss, will be separated from your child when you leave—likely never to see him again in this life.”

These words sounded utterly absurd. Yet her intuition told her they were true—everything was true.

A teacup clinking on the table sounded from behind at just the right moment, and the man spoke in a low voice: “Miss, if you want to go back to the capital and make a life for yourself, I can help you.”

Night brought a slight chill. Outside the capital it was pitch dark, but within the city the lanterns were lit, casting a lively brilliance. Changyu Street, entirely occupied by the Dingbei Prince’s residence, was perhaps one of the rare solemn and quiet spots in the city.

Jiang Xu and Shu Jingran were in the study, discussing matters by candlelight. The flame flickered; a shadow slipped in on the breeze, bowed, and reported, “My lord, the Liang family’s young lady and that child have been brought back to the capital and settled.”

Jiang Xu gave a single “hm” and lifted his hand.

The shadow understood, and withdrew silently.

Shu Jingran placed three black stones on the board, reached under his sleeve for more, and to himself said, “I’ve been wondering why you acted that night. Letting Young Master Liang save Miss Ming—then that marriage would be a done deal, not necessarily a bad thing. Now… I’ve finally figured it out.”

For several hundred years the Daxian court had held power; the noble families’ roots had grown tangled and their influence only increased, and the Emperor had long intended to prune them.

A few days ago the Emperor had struck at the most arrogant and unrestrained of them all—the Cheng’en Marquis who had dared to tamper with the salt mines—and it wouldn’t be long before the Duke of Lingguo’s house and the Marquis of Jing’an’s house suffered the same fate.

If those two families were to be joined by marriage, it would save effort to purge them together; the Emperor seemed to have that in mind. But “you don’t seem inclined to let the Ming and Liang families intermarry—why is that?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s figured it out?” Jiang Xu dropped a chess piece and slowly lifted his eyelids.

“……”

“I just wanted to understand—on that day you intervened to save someone, it was because you didn’t want the Ming and Liang families to become in-laws. That’s all.”

“So it seems that needed no thinking.”

Jiang Xu lowered his brows and eyes, chuckling softly. He nearly went so far as to question whether Young Master Shu’s supposed talents were worthy of the young women in the neighborhood waiting for his triumphant return from the imperial exams.

Shu Jingran cleared his throat, feeling slightly embarrassed.

After all, he hadn’t yet entered the court—many things were still unclear. Jiang Xu didn’t press him further; he lowered his eyes to the chessboard and said, “Haste makes waste. Besides, reforming a noble house is not my intention.”

The room was quiet, with only the faint sound of the candle flame flickering.

Shu Jingran savored Jiang Xu’s words and found several meanings in them.

The first half is easy to understand. To wipe out both houses in one blow is somewhat rash. In recent years the Empress Dowager has taken to fasting and chanting, seemingly keeping to her place, but her faction is deeply rooted; since the Son of Heaven’s ascension they have been a threat that cannot be ignored. Moving too forcefully will inevitably leave openings for them to win people back. To divide and conquer is, relatively speaking, far safer.

But on the second half, Shu Jingran paused.

He could never quite figure out Jiang Xu’s relationship with the current emperor.

Over the years, the emperor’s treatment of Jiang Xu had been beyond reproach. By contrast, Jiang Xu himself had never been warm toward the emperor, even downright cold. Many times his manner made people wonder whether he truly stood with the throne.

The phrase “not my intention” left Shu Jingran a little unclear—did it mean “not my intention, but I’ll still lend a hand,” or “not my intention, so I’ll take the opposite view”?

Jiang Xu seemed to know what he was thinking: “Ming Tingyuan’s skill in deploying troops is indeed rare, so let him stay a while.”

Then he placed the final black piece: “You lose.”

Shu Jingran snapped back to reality. At some point, the white stones that had once held the slight advantage had been pressed back by the black, trapped and helpless, with no room left to maneuver.

But he had no intention of playing chess tonight. Pushing the chess container aside, he pressed on: “If you want to keep Ming Tingyuan here and ruin his daughter’s marriage, what match will you arrange for his daughter instead? Ming Tingyuan holds sway over Yangxi Road and is not to be underestimated. Once the marriage is broken off, I imagine many people won’t be able to resist the temptation.”

Jiang Xu did not answer; he just looked at him silently.

“…?”

Shu Jingran only realized something was wrong after a long moment.

He had always been a steady, sincere man—gentle as jade, composed and measured in all things, knowing when to advance and retreat. But now he seemed to find the situation absurd. He stood silent for a long moment, then laughed incredulously, “Jiang Qizhi, what do you mean by that? You want me to marry?”

“The Empress has already made arrangements for Zhang Huaiyu’s marriage. As for Lu Ting, he is far too sentimental.”

“Then does that make me the unfaithful one?” Shu Jingran still found it amusing.

Jiang Xu’s gaze narrowed. “You won’t marry her—so do you expect this prince to?”

Shu Jingran: “That wouldn’t be out of the question either.”

Jiang Xu didn’t want to talk more; without raising his eyelids he saw the guest out.