Xiao Tingyun’s expression was grave, her voice heavy.
Xiao Hongshuang, just rebuked, felt her dignity slip away. She wanted to speak, but when her eyes met Xiao Tingyun’s piercing gaze, she dared not utter another word. In the end, she could only leave with a face full of grievance, covering her tears. Before departing, her tear-brimmed phoenix eyes instinctively turned toward Gu Yuande.
No sooner had Xiao Hongshuang stepped out than Gu Yuande, seething with frustration, snapped, “Go on, indulge her all you like. We’ll talk again once you’ve calmed down.”
With that, he too strode toward the courtyard gate. At the threshold, his steps faltered, though he did not turn back.
“I’ll be lodging in the outer quarters tonight.”
Xiao Tingyun gave him no reply at all. Instead, she steadied Gu Qingzhao by the shoulder and said softly, “Let’s go inside and talk.”
Mother and daughter, followed by a train of maids and attendants, swept into the main chamber’s resting room.
Gu Qingzhao began to study her mother closely. Today, she wore a dark ink-colored martial robe patterned with subtle cloud motifs, its arrow sleeves sharp and practical—no trace of feminine ornaments or jewelry. At thirty-four, her face bore little mark of hardship. Instead, she radiated a cool, blade-like aura.
Gu Qingzhao suddenly realized her mother and Xiao Hongshuang were not alike at all. Their features might share a faint resemblance, but Xiao Hongshuang’s charm was soft and alluring, while her mother’s presence brimmed with heroic vigor.
In her past life, she had truly been blind—mistaking Xiao Hongshuang for a mother to draw close to, while turning a cold, hostile face toward her own true mother.
After Xiao Tingyun washed her face with the help of her maid Mingqiao, she turned and saw Gu Qingzhao’s eyes reddening once more. She immediately stepped forward. “Why are you crying again? Is there something else troubling you? Tell Mother everything.”
Gu Qingzhao shook her head. “It was me who was ignorant before, always throwing tantrums at Mother.”
Xiao Tingyun quickly shook her own head. “No, it wasn’t your fault. When I left with your younger brother, you were only eight—precisely the age when you needed me most. Seeing me only a handful of times each year, it’s natural you would harbor resentment in your heart.”
“Back then, your younger brother always had one foot at death’s door. If I cared for him, I couldn’t care for you. But now things are better—our family can finally be reunited.”
As she spoke, Xiao Tingyun herself could not hold back her sobs.
Gu Qingzhao recalled her past life: after her mother returned to the household, she tried several times to speak with her, but Gu Qingzhao avoided listening, always wearing a cold expression. A month later, her brother was pushed into the lake by Cuiliu and drowned. From that day on, her mother shut herself away.
It was Xiao Hongshuang who announced the death three months later, claiming it was plague—and no one was allowed to see the body.
Thinking back now, it was clear they had already plotted everything by the time her brother died. Even the timing of her mother’s death remained uncertain.
“I understand now. My brother was gravely ill, of course you had to care for him.” Seeing guilt written across Xiao Tingyun’s face, Gu Qingzhao hurried to comfort her.
Only after dying once did she realize—nothing is more important than life itself.
As they spoke, Xiao Tingyun’s maid Wanshuang brought in two bowls of steaming noodle soup.
“Madam, this is chicken broth from the main kitchen, with poached eggs and baby bok choy.”
She handed one bowl to Xiao Tingyun and set the other beside Gu Qingzhao. “Madam’s appetite has been poor these days. If Miss eats with her, Madam will be able to finish more.”
Gu Qingzhao had already eaten lunch, but she picked up her chopsticks anyway. “I’ll eat with Mother. This smells too good to resist.”
The chicken broth base, enriched with bok choy, carried both richness and freshness. A few drops of sesame oil on top made it even more fragrant.
Mother and daughter ate together, unconcerned with the rule of silence at meals, chatting as they ate.
Gu Qingzhao spoke of yesterday’s matter— Song Chu proposing a marriage exchange.
Alongside the noodles were four light side dishes. Between them, the two finished their bowls completely.
Gu Qingzhao even patted her stomach. “Sister Wanshuang’s cooking is wonderful. I rarely manage to eat such a big bowl of noodles.”
Xiao Tingyun laughed. “Your brother is picky with food. Wanshuang’s skill was forced out of necessity.”
Once the bowls were cleared and tea and fruit were served, Xiao Tingyun asked, “You agreed to the marriage exchange—was it because you truly admire Song Chu, or because Prince Cheng forced you?”
Gu Qingzhao hesitated over how to answer. In truth, it was neither. It was the result of weighing all the pros and cons.
Seeing her hesitate without answering, Xiao Tingyun seemed to have guessed something. She continued, “If you are only doing this to escape Prince Cheng, then there is no need. My daughter does not need to endure humiliation for the sake of compromise.”
Her tone was calm, as though stating a truth everyone should know. Yet it carried an unshakable certainty, leaving no room for debate. It was not a command, but a declaration—the strongest shelter a mother could build for her child.
Gu Qingzhao understood that her mother was reassuring her, unwilling to see her suffer. But in this matter, she had her own considerations.
“Mother, let’s speak of this slowly another time. Has my younger brother not woken yet? I want to see him.”
Hearing her mention her brother, Xiao Tingyun immediately said, “Then let’s go see him. He fell asleep before we even entered the city—he should be awake by now.”
Gu Yannian had been settled in the western side chamber, attended by his wet nurse, Nnany Chen.
Afraid of disturbing his sleep, Gu Qingzhao did not dare to enter rashly. Mother and daughter stood by the window instead, gently pushing it open a crack.
As they looked inside, Gu Yannian had just climbed down from the bed.
Though seven years old, his premature birth and lingering illness left him with the stature of an ordinary five- or six-year-old child. He rose from the bed without calling anyone, sitting properly at its edge. He placed the fingers of his left hand against the pulse of his right wrist—he was taking his own pulse.
“Pulse is steady,” he murmured softly. Then he got down from the bed and began folding the quilt. The large silk quilt was folded neatly, each movement measured and composed.
Gu Qingzhao could not take her eyes off him. It was as if, at this moment, she was truly beginning to understand her brother. Born with features as pure as carved jade, he looked like a little acolyte before a temple Buddha—his brows and eyes upright and proper. Yet beneath that childish face was a manner far too old for his years.
Gu Qingzhao whispered, “Mother, I feel as though I’m seeing Grandfather.”
Xiao Tingyun’s lips twitched faintly as she explained, “These past years, the ones he’s spent the most time with are the elders of the valley. His bearing… has grown rather steady.”
As they spoke, Nanny Chen entered through the back door carrying a basin of warm water. Seeing the boy awake, she asked, “Young Master must be hungry? Wanshuang has cooked chicken noodle soup—I’ll have her bring a bowl.”
Gu Yannian asked, “Has Mother eaten yet?”
As he spoke, he walked to the washstand, stood on a small stool, and washed his face. From washing to drying, not a single drop of water splashed.
Nanny Chen replied, “Madam and Third Miss have already eaten, Young Master, you needn’t worry.”
At the mention of Third Miss, Gu Yannian’s eyes lit up. He looked up eagerly. “Elder Sister is here? Take me to her!”
It was the only flicker of emotion he had shown since waking.
Seeing this, Gu Qingzhao quickly went to the doorway and pushed it open.
The little old-man-like Gu Yannian transformed the moment he saw her.
“Elder Sister, I can recite the *Book of Documents* now. Does that mean you’ll play with me?” He threw himself against her legs, clinging like a little pendant.
Looking up at her, his round, white face bloomed into a smile—sweet, almost ingratiating.
Gu Qingzhao froze at the mention of the *Book of Documents*, then guilt washed over her.
In her past life, last year, her brother had returned hoping to play with her. Irritated, she told him she would only play once he had memorized the *Book of Documents*. She had chosen that book precisely because he had just begun learning it and could not yet read fluently. Yet in only a year, he had mastered it.
Gu Qingzhao rubbed his head. “Our Anian is truly clever.”
Gu Yannian beamed, then darted to the bed and pulled a paper-wrapped parcel from beneath his pillow. He handed it to her.
“Elder Sister, this is mung bean and red date cake. I had some at noon—it was delicious, so I saved this for you.”
Xiao Tingyun laughed softly and explained, “We bought those cakes while passing through Tongzhou. At noon we brought them out for a meal stop. He ate only one piece and refused more. I thought he didn’t like them—but he was saving them for you.”
Gu Qingzhao’s heart twisted with guilt, tenderness, and a sudden rush of kinship. She crouched down to meet his eyes. “From now on, Elder Sister will play with you every day. In a few days, there will be a temple fair—I’ll take you to see the festivities.”
Gu Yannian looked at her in disbelief, then glanced up at their mother. Finally, he threw his arms around Gu Qingzhao’s neck. “Elder Sister, I knew you liked me.”
Gu Qingzhao pinched his soft, fair cheeks, even lifted him up to test his weight.
The siblings laughed together until they nearly toppled over, while Xiao Tingyun turned aside to quietly wipe the corner of her eye.
After the merriment, Nanny Chen brought over a small bowl of noodles, and Gu Yannian sat down to eat.
Xiao Tingyun then instructed Wanshuang, “Are all the gifts for each household prepared? Deliver them yourself. As for the Old Madam’s, I will bring them personally and pay my respects.”
Hearing this, Gu Qingzhao’s spirits lifted. “Let me deliver Concubine Wan’s gift.”