Gu Qingzhao spoke without looking at Xiao Hongshuang. But Gu Yuande, after hearing her words, instinctively turned his head and cast a probing glance at Xiao Hongshuang.
At the Old Madam’s order for a thorough investigation, Nanny Qin began questioning people in Qingyi Courtyard. Yet everyone knew such matters were nearly impossible to trace.
Take, for example, a single bowl of soup from a concubine: from the kitchen to the dining table, how many hands would it pass through?
Thus Concubine Wan, once the suspected culprit, suddenly became the victim.
Gu Yuande, still mindful of past affection, could not bear to punish her harshly. In the end, he merely docked three months of her allowance.
Whether out of fear that Xiao Tingyun would hold a grudge, or genuine remorse, Concubine Wan forced herself out of bed, kowtowed three times, and poured out a stream of apologies.
When the crowd dispersed, Gu Yuande deliberately walked beside Xiao Tingyun. “Wife, just now I misunderstood you.”
Seeing this, Gu Qingzhao slowed her steps. She wanted to observe—what feelings did her mother truly hold for her father?
She had not yet told her mother about Father and Xiao Hongshuang. If she spoke, she feared the sudden truth might overwhelm her. If she kept silent, she worried Xiao Hongshuang might strike when her mother was unprepared. But if she intended to move against both Xiao Hongshuang and Gu Yuande, secrecy would be impossible. She needed to think carefully about how to tell her mother.
At that moment, Xiao Tingyun stopped, turned, and looked at her husband with complicated eyes. “In your heart, I am nothing but a vicious woman who cannot even tolerate a concubine.” Her voice dropped low, sharp as steel. “Next time you raise your hand against me, don’t blame me for being merciless.”
Though she spoke quietly, Gu Qingzhao heard every word. In her memory, Mother had always been gentle—especially before she turned eight, when Xiao Tingyun coaxed her to play, lulled her to sleep, speaking in a soft, lilting tone. But today, her gaze was cold, like a blade drawn from its sheath.
Even Gu Yuande was startled by that suppressed fury. His face darkened, lips parted as if to speak, but in the end he said nothing. His stern gaze lingered on Xiao Tingyun for a moment before he strode away.
On the way back, Gu Qingzhao’s lips curved into a smile. Only in these past two days had she realized—she had never truly understood her mother and younger brother. Perhaps Heaven had granted her rebirth precisely so she could finally see clearly.
Back in the main hall, Maid Wanshuang ordered warm water to be brought. After washing her hands, Xiao Tingyun instructed the nanny to take Gu Yannian away. She sat opposite Gu Qingzhao on the heated couch by the window in the banquet chamber. Between them stood a square nanmu table, a small auspicious-beast incense burner sending up a thin curl of smoke.
Before long, a maid brought in hot tea.
Cradling her cup, Gu Qingzhao said, “What happened today is a lesson—one must never be without caution against others. In the coming days, I’ll find a way to clear the main courtyard. All household matters our own trusted servants will handle there.”
Xiao Tingyun frowned in puzzlement. “Why go to such trouble?”
Gu Qingzhao paused, suddenly realizing—her mother had no understanding of inner-courtyard affairs. Before she turned eight, Father was stationed on the northern frontier. Mother took her to live at Prince Liao’s residence most of the year. Her maternal grandfather and uncle showered them both with affection. For the past seven years, Mother had lived with her younger brother in the Valley of Divine Healers, a place like paradise itself. Thus, even now, Mother knew nothing of the treacheries within the household. Yet there was a blessing in that: at thirty-something, her skin was still like polished jade, her face as fresh as peach blossoms, untouched by time. Mother and daughter looked more like sisters. Had she spent the past decade in the Duke’s manor, worry would surely have carved several extra lines into her brow.
Knowing her mother’s ignorance, Gu Qingzhao explained: “At present, Aunt manages the household, and Father used to live here. If you suddenly drive everyone out, it may not be proper. I’ll devise a way so no one can object.”
Xiao Tingyun arched her brow, her heroic bearing brooking no doubt. “What need for such fuss? Wanshuang, go tell the Duke: he and his people, and all his belongings, are to move out at once.”
Gu Qingzhao: …
She finally understood the saying: *One force can subdue ten schemes.*
Wanshuang showed no surprise, bowed, and went to deliver the order.
Before mother and daughter had even finished their tea, the maids and old servants of the main courtyard were already packing up.
“Mother, aren’t you afraid Father will be displeased and grow estranged from you?”
Gu Qingzhao asked softly, “And what about Grandmother—will she think Mother is too forceful?”
In her previous life, she had seen countless noblewomen of the capital. When speaking with their husbands, they always calculated every word, balancing purpose with reputation and grace. Each embodied her own set of survival rules within the inner courtyard.
Xiao Tingyun chuckled lightly, then reached out to stroke Qingzhao’s head. “If I were the daughter of an ordinary family, living only by my husband’s favor, perhaps I would be afraid. But I am not. Even if I leave the Gu family, even if I leave Gu Yuande, I can still live well. I have confidence,” she sighed, “though most women do not.”
Gu Qingzhao pressed further: “Mother’s confidence—does it come from Grandfather, Uncle, and Prince Liao’s household?”
She remembered that many of the noblewomen she had known in her past life came from families even more powerful than Prince Liao’s.
Xiao Tingyun shook her head. “It comes from myself. In the end, remember this: a person’s greatest strength always lies within themselves.”
Gu Qingzhao naturally agreed. In her past life, she had thought the Duke’s manor was the heavens, that the Prince was the heavens—until those heavens crushed her. She had intended to urge her mother to seize control of household management, but now she realized it was unnecessary. Mother would rather move out than entangle herself in the petty affairs of the inner courtyard.
As for how Mother would react upon learning the truth, Gu Qingzhao no longer worried. A woman who could speak such words would never lose herself or seek death over a man’s betrayal. Yet she did not speak of it today, for she saw the weariness on her mother’s face.
“Mother, you’ve traveled far. Rest well—I’ll take my leave.”
Xiao Tingyun’s expression showed clear reluctance. “Why not stay here? Let the three of us live together. Meals and conversation would be livelier.”
Gu Qingzhao was tempted, but remembering the tasks she had yet to accomplish, she shook her head. “I’ll come every day, but I’ll still return to my own quarters. If I stay, Yannian will romp with me and disturb your rest.”
Meanwhile, in the west wing of the Gu family’s third branch: Xiao Hongshuang wore a jade-green embroidered underbodice with paired mandarin ducks, moon-white satin trousers, and a sheer pink gauze robe that left her bosom half exposed. She bent over her table, mixing costly spices she had procured—legitimate incense, but laced with a trace of aphrodisiac. Harmless to the body, yet enough to deepen indulgence in carnal pleasure.
Suddenly, Gu Yuande, sipping tea at the table, asked: “Concubine Wan’s miscarriage—did it have anything to do with you?”