Gu Qingzhao sat down opposite the Old Madam and declared firmly, “I’ll marry.”
“Marrying into the Song family is still better than marrying Prince Cheng.”
The Old Madam was taken aback—had she thought it through so quickly?
“Explain carefully. Why do you think marrying into the Song family is better than marrying Prince Cheng? Is it because you find it absurd that he’s already entangled in scandal before marriage?”
“But you must be clear: marrying the Imperial Uncle of Song isn’t easy either. As a secondary wife, you’ll face difficulties. He has already lost two wives, and there are several concubines in his household. I’ve heard his inner court is far from peaceful.”
Gu Qingzhao considered, then spoke: “Right now, the Crown Prince is confined, and the struggle for succession is far from over. If both daughters of our family marry Prince Cheng, it won’t bode well for us.”
The Old Madam’s expression shifted; she raised her head. “Go on.” She had assumed Gu Qingzhao’s reluctance was mere sisterly jealousy. She hadn’t expected the girl to be already weighing the political situation at court.
Gu Qingzhao continued: “Though the Crown Prince is confined, His Majesty has not deposed him. From what Uncle Song said today, the Emperor has not turned his anger against the Song family. I believe an alliance with the Songs is more secure than one with Prince Cheng. Princes come and go, but the great ministerial clans endure.”
She paused, gauging her grandmother’s reaction, then added softly: “Besides, I admit to a private reason. My fourth sister betrayed me in this matter, and a rift now exists between us. If we both married into Prince Cheng’s household, conflict would be inevitable, and our Gu family would be shamed. It would be better if she married Prince Cheng, while I wed elsewhere. Without entangled interests, we can still maintain the appearance of sisterly affection, at least enough to keep outsiders from laughing at us. What does Grandmother think?”
The Old Madam listened, weighed each sentence, and then studied Gu Qingzhao intently. This granddaughter—she had underestimated her. Every word was for the family’s sake, and her insight was remarkably clear. For a young lady of the inner chambers to see so far was rare indeed.
“Am I wrong?” Gu Qingzhao asked when her grandmother remained silent.
The Old Madam shook her head and smiled faintly. “You spoke well, and you thought rightly. It is admirable how you consider the family in all things. This matter has wronged you.”
Gu Qingzhao shook her head. “Not wronged. Grandmother has borne the burden of the family for so many years—that is the true hardship.”
The Old Madam, who had no blood ties to the Gu clan yet had devoted herself to its honor and prosperity, was momentarily stunned. In the ten years since the Grandfather’s passing, this was the first time anyone had sincerely acknowledged her toil. Steam rose from the hot tea on the table, blurring her vision of the granddaughter opposite her. For an instant, she thought the girl resembled the late Grandfather—not in looks, but in the calm confidence with which she spoke.
“Since you’ve decided, then so be it. I’ll speak to your father,” the Old Madam said.
Gu Qingzhao rose, bowed, and withdrew. As she stepped out of the banquet hall, she happened to meet the maid Lüyun, who was coming in to report.
“Old Madam, the Household Department sent word: the goods you donated to the Cien Treasury will be collected shortly.”
Gu Qingzhao knew of the Cien Treasury—established under the Empress Dowager’s patronage, it gathered donations to aid displaced orphans, women, and disaster victims. Because it was led by the Empress Dowager, the ladies of the capital contributed every year.
In her previous life, after marrying Prince Cheng, she had also helped the Empress Dowager organize relief efforts through the Cien Treasury.
Now it was late July of the sixteenth year of Tianqi. If she remembered correctly, this round of donations was meant to prepare for the harsh winter snows. Unexpectedly, the northern cold wave arrived early, leaving crops unharvested. Charcoal and grain prices soared. After famine came plague—typhoid, consumption, and other illnesses spread. These donations were immediately used for relief, and afterward the Empress Dowager issued commendations to the ladies who had given generously.
Standing at the doorway, Gu Qingzhao pondered briefly before leaving Cihui Hall. Her thoughts returned to the matter of marriage. She had her own calculations. Seeking revenge against Gu Qingjin and Xiao Hongshuang was not difficult, but striking at Qin Jingming was another matter. She had no power or influence; to deal with him completely, she would need a strong faction’s backing.
In her past life, she had witnessed the formidable reach of the Imperial Uncle Song. And in the struggle for succession, as long as the Crown Prince lived, he would inevitably clash with Qin Jingming. By that logic, marrying into the Song family was indeed a promising path.
Her mind drifted, recalling people and rumors of the Song household from her former life. But as she reached the garden, a mocking voice pulled her back.
“Third Sister, you’re really clever. So that’s why you wanted to break off with Prince Cheng—you’ve already hooked up with Uncle Song. Why didn’t you say so earlier? I would have yielded to you.” Gu Qingjin approached with a smile, though her eyes brimmed with jealousy and resentment. She had just met Prince Cheng, who showed her no kindness and blamed her carelessness for the scandal. What did Gu Qingzhao have that she did not? Only a maternal family with military power.
Both were daughters of the Xiao clan, yet her mother’s side was as good as nonexistent. In looks, she could not match Gu Qingzhao. But in talent and reputation, Gu Qingzhao was no rival. Why should she lose out? Comparing oneself to others was enough to drive one mad.
Gu Qingzhao halted, her gaze dropping to Gu Qingjin’s belly, her eyes turning cold. That child was Qin Yuan—the boy who had once called her “Mother” for four years. She hadn’t rushed to act against the child, wanting to secure her broken betrothal first. But this bastard would not be allowed to be born.
Gu Qingjin, seeing her stare, thought she feared the imperial grandson in her womb. She stepped closer, sneering: “Third Sister rushing to be Uncle Song’s secondary wife—truly admirable.”
Gu Qingzhao lifted her eyes, sharp as blades. In the next instant, she slapped Gu Qingjin across the face. “Gu Qingjin, mind your tongue when speaking to me.”
“What if I change my mind and decide to marry Prince Cheng after all? Suppose I demand that you take vows as a nun before I agree—do you think he would refuse?”
Gu Qingjin bit her lip, clutching her cheek. Of course Prince Cheng would agree; securing the Xiao clan’s support mattered most to him.
Gu Qingzhao pressed on: “Whether you enter Prince Cheng’s household depends entirely on my mood. So don’t anger me.”
Gu Qingjin glared back, unwilling to yield. “You dare strike me? I carry the Emperor’s grandson. If anything happens, can you bear the blame?”
Gu Qingzhao snorted. “Chunlan, go report that I’ve agreed to marry Prince Cheng.” Then, fixing her eyes on Gu Qingjin: “As the principal wife, who can fault me for disciplining a concubine? Even if the child is lost, you’ll have to endure it.”
Seeing her sister’s face pale, Gu Qingzhao added: “Will you apologize now? Whomever I marry depends on my whim.”
Gu Qingjin’s chest heaved with fury, but fear gnawed at her. Prince Cheng would be eager for Gu Qingzhao to join his household. After a long moment, she lowered her head, lips trembling. “Third Sister, forgive me. I spoke recklessly just now.”