Chapter Thirteen

At dusk, Lingmiao Temple struck the bell and beat the drum, closing for the night and turning away visitors. The little maid who had been hiding behind the trees and peeking earlier tiptoed back to the Jing’an Marquis Mansion and dutifully reported what she had seen and heard to Ming Chu and Concubine Liu.

When Ming Chu finished listening, he sneered, “Seeing that Shen Yu today, I’d thought him at least somewhat spirited and willing to fight—someone who could be molded—far better than that sister of his who only recites those sour poems. But it turns out he’s common too; he can’t stand the sight of those delicate, pampered girls in the capital!”

The little maid felt something was amiss as she listened.

Reciting lamenting poems, delicate and soft.

She couldn’t help but steal a glance at Concubine Liu.

Concubine Liu: “…”

Mingchu, realizing, hurried to explain: “Mother, I wasn’t talking about you!”

Enough. Auntie Liu rubbed her forehead, baffled at how she had spoiled Ming Chu into the person she was now.

She waved for the maid to leave, then sighed helplessly, “Chuchu, how many times have I told you? Now that we’re back in the capital, things aren’t the same as before. Don’t offend the madam, and don’t provoke Ming Tan. Why won’t you listen?”

“I only sent someone to check on the temple, how is that provoking her? Besides, it’s not like I made her behave so indiscreetly!” Ming Chu slapped the table and stood up, indignant.

“What do you mean by ‘indiscreet’? You mustn’t go saying that out loud!”

“I know! I was just talking in my own courtyard. Ever since we returned to the capital you’ve been far too cautious.” Ming Chu, wearied by daily admonitions, snapped, “Father already promised he’d find a good match for me long ago—so why must you bend over backwards and tiptoe around that Pei family?”

“I was just…”

Seeing Auntie Liu was about to start lecturing with another string of moralizing, Ming Chu, impatient, took the soft whip and left the courtyard straightaway.

“Chu Chu!”

“Stop!”

Auntie Liu called out twice but failed to stop her. With that temper, she clutched her embroidered handkerchief, and a trace of worry showed in her eyes.

Days passed one by one; except for the day Shen Yu’s abruptness, Ming Tan’s life at Lingmiao Temple was fairly leisurely and peaceful.

But as the saying goes, evil gets its due; her former fiancé Liang Zixuan had been in a complete mess at the residence these past few days.

In fact, Liang Zixuan already knew, back when he had engineered Ming Tan’s accidental fall into the water, that his mother intended to send Zhu’er away. He also knew his mother would not allow Zhu’er to raise the child, and even guessed that his delicate cousin would likely never have another chance to enter the Marquis’s household in this lifetime.

What he did not know was that his mother intended to casually hand Zhu’er over to a steward of a manor in Lizhou to be a filler wife! That was simply outrageous!

Perhaps it came from a man’s inexplicable possessiveness toward a woman—he could reject her himself, but he would never allow other men to touch her. Liang Zixuan, who had been furious at Zhu’er for ruining the engagement, on hearing the reason for her disturbance, and then seeing her clutch the child and weep with tear-streaked cheeks before him, redirected all that anger at his mother, Li Shi, who had managed him for years and whom he dare not contradict.

“Mother, Zhu’er obediently left for my sake and my future because she listened to you—why are you so cruel to her! And Miss Tan—men having multiple wives and several illegitimate children is a common thing; speak kindly with her, and she might very well accept Zhu’er and Brother Min! If you hadn’t orchestrated the drowning and angered the Jing’an Marquisate, how would a perfectly fine marriage have come to this!”

“You wretch of a son! Now you intend to push all the blame onto your own mother?!” Li Shi froze for a moment; when she came to, the pain in her chest was fierce with anger. Seeing Zhu’er’s fragile, timid act, she snatched up the teacup on the table and hurled it hard. “For that harlot, you dare speak to me in such a tone!”

Zhu’er hurriedly dodged behind Liang Zixuan, sobbing softly.

“Don’t be afraid, cousin!”

Liang Zixuan reached out to shield Zhu’er, but inside he was far less calm than he appeared.

Madam Li’s long-held authority had made obedience and fear toward her almost instinctive; it wasn’t something one could overcome quickly.

Both Liang Zixuan and the Duke shared that instinct. So even though the household was in such an embarrassing uproar, the Duke, as head of the family, remained indifferent, as if none of it concerned him; he neither wanted to intervene nor could he.

But in this world, misfortunes rarely stay unrelated to you just because you don’t intervene.

The matter of Zhu’er had already turned the household upside down without reaching any conclusion, and before two days had passed, the teahouses around the capital were suddenly abuzz with fresh whispers about the private affairs of the current Lord Ling’s inner household.

After the old Lord Ling passed away, because the old madam was still alive, the family had never been divided.

The old madam favored the eldest son; years ago she forced the old Lord Ling to have the current Lord Ling, who had little talent or virtue, appointed heir.

In truth, when it comes to ability as an official and skill in dealing with the world, the current Duke Ling is far inferior to his second and third younger brothers, and even falls short of the other two half-brothers.

Now the five branches have been split into two households living together, connected by a moon-gate; with so many people and such mixed company it was a rotten porridge to begin with, and it naturally brewed a good number of rotten affairs.

This time the scandal about the private doings within the Duke Ling’s inner residence, which spread wildly through the teahouses of the capital, encompassed every one of the five branches—each and every one rotten together in neat order.

The two most shocking revelations among them were—

That the Duke had an affair with the new concubine recently taken in by the second branch master;

That before the Duke’s wife married, she and the third branch master were mutually in love; because the third branch master could not inherit the title, Mrs. Li had no choice but to marry the current Duke with a heart full of resentment!

The storytellers all told it the same way, naming names and speaking with such authority and rhythm.

The Duke’s residence was utterly thrown into chaos!

When the whole household lived together day to day, friction was inevitable, but once they left the mansion, they still acted as a united family.

For one thing, with the matriarch still alive, no one wanted to be the first to bring up division of the estate and risk the stain of filial impiety; for another, each branch of the family had its own strengths and needed to leverage them. At the very least, everyone could maintain a veneer of harmony.

Yet this time, the members of the branches threw all dignity aside, shouting, beating, and cursing, creating a chaotic scene, determined to dig up new and old grievances and settle them all at once—showing not an ounce of the ceremonial decorum expected of a high-ranking, well-established family.

Outsiders had originally been skeptical of the storytellers’ claims—after all, with nothing more than hearsay, no proof, how could one accept it as fact? Simply a bit of entertainment. But the Duke’s household’s instinctive reaction this time could not be faked.

Especially since the third branch’s lord and lady had long been on bad terms and their marriage was icy. Now that people learned their master had an old romance with the eldest sister-in-law before the wedding, and then recalled some previously odd hints, the third branch’s lady went mad, returned to her natal home demanding a divorce, and thereby exposed the whole family’s filthy secrets of the Duke Ling household without fail.

In fact, the capital had many noble and gentry families, and each had a few secrets not to be told to outsiders. But a scandal that swept through the city and was known on every street corner like the one at the Duke Ling household—there truly was no second.

In these days the raconteurs in teahouses and taverns had a field day, and after finishing the main tale they would add: the young miss of the Marquis Jing’an’s household was strikingly beautiful, of upright conduct and outstanding talent. Fortunately she broke off the match with the Duke Ling household in time; otherwise a pearl would have been sullied and wasted!

The Grand Censor set the Censorate to inspect all officials; the censors “hear rumors and impeach,” they’re the sort who always find something to report even when there’s nothing. Handing them such a big scandal was essentially serving up the censors’ monthly assignment on a platter.

The censors and remonstrators submitted impeachment after impeachment against the Commandery Duke for three consecutive days, and that dragged along the second, third, fourth, and fifth branches of the Duke’s household who held government posts—no one escaped.

At first it was argued that at worst it was a lax household and private moral failings, nothing that could be treated as a matter for public debate.

But after three days of continuous charges, the memorials filled the court; Emperor Cheng alone, hearing them read, was forced to memorize the countless concubines, illegitimate sons, mistresses, and private affairs of the Commandery Duke’s household.

On the fourth day’s court session, the censor who went out first to submit a charge was, once again, the Commandery Duke.

Emperor Chengkang cut him off halfway, annoyed: “I’ve already issued a reprimand—don’t drag these trifling domestic affairs into the court! Is my court some ancestral hall opened for the Liang family?!”

The censors were furious. For the Duke Ling’s household to fall into such disgrace and receive only a mild reprimand—how could they accept that without petitioning?

So after submitting the memorial against the Duke Ling’s household, the bolder ones even remonstrated directly to Emperor Chengkang, accusing him of sheltering and indulging the Duke, saying it was unbefitting of a ruler!

In the following two days, memorials arrived with even greater vigor, piling onto Emperor Chengkang’s desk like snowflakes. And these censors seemed to have set their sights on the Duke Ling’s household—Your Majesty said these were trivial domestic matters? Then find some that aren’t and submit petitions about those as well.

For example, accusations were brought forward that the minor branches and nephews of the Duke of Ling forcibly seized common girls, that the third branch lord in the Ministry of Personnel accepted bribes in official examinations, and even that the sinecure held by the Duke of Ling failed to sign the attendance roll on time.

Chengkang Emperor delayed two more days, but the impeachment momentum did not lessen; the reasons were dressed up in righteous terms — “princes who break the law are punished like commoners” — and besides, the Duke of Ling’s household wasn’t even part of the imperial clan or the outer relatives, so on what grounds could they live untroubled?

It seemed Chengkang Emperor couldn’t bear the pressure. Reluctantly, he ordered an edict to be drafted and issued, listing dozens of charges: accepting bribes, lax household governance, moral shortcomings, fondness for ease and aversion to labor, and so on. The Duke of Ling was demoted to marquis, his descendants would no longer enjoy equal-status succession privileges, and he was exiled to a distant capital; the other branches with officials were also subjected to varying degrees of demotion and punishment—

“What did you say? Downgraded and stripped of office?”

Mingtan was very surprised when he heard the news Bai Minmin brought, so much so that he even forgot about the exquisite pastries he’d been craving for days.

“Hmm, I hear they’re setting off tomorrow — finally some justice!” Bai Minmin said with schadenfreude. “I also heard Liang Zixuan had a falling-out with his mother over that cousin of his. Now the Ling Guogong… ah no, the Ling Hou mansion is in chaos, always noisy, and quite a few servants without binding contracts have left.”

Zhou Jingwan, who had come along, added softly, “And yesterday the censors filed another remonstrance. After the Ling Hou mansion was demoted and failed to promptly reorganize according to regulations, the Ministry of Rites has sent people to supervise.”

Bai Minmin: “Yes, it’s simply so satisfying!”

Zhou Jingwan: “If I’m no longer in the capital, at least out of sight is out of mind.”

Mingtan paused.

Hmm… she was indeed rather pleased that the Duke’s household had been ruined.

The worse the Liang family’s reputation got, the more it made her appear innocent and blameless.

But when did I ever find out so many secrets of the Duke’s residence? Weren’t the few things I had my uncle investigate all related only to the Duke and his wife?