The next morning, Wen Ning rose early. She glanced at her reflection in the bronze mirror—eighteen years old, in the prime of her beauty.
In her previous life, after marrying Song Yan, she had devoted herself entirely to keeping the Song household afloat, pinching every coin until it split in two. She had neither the time nor the heart to adorn herself. But now, reborn, she was determined to treat herself better. She called for Xiao Tao to help with her toilette. “Choose the goose‑yellow dress.”
Wen Ning had always been charming by nature. In her past life, for convenience in work, she wore only drab, gray clothing. Now, she naturally chose whatever was most beautiful.
Xiao Tao’s hands were deft. Though she styled her mistress’s hair in a matron’s bun, the high, airy coiffure framed Wen Ning’s luminous oval face, lending her an air of refinement and nobility.
“Miss, you look stunning!” Xiao Tao couldn’t help but exclaim. “It’s a pity that young heir is blind to it…”
Wen Ning turned to her with rare seriousness. “Xiao Tao, we are now in the Duke’s household. This is not the Wen family. You must be cautious with your words. If trouble arises, I won’t be able to protect you.”
Xiao Tao understood her mistress spoke for her sake. Remembering how Wen Ning herself tread on thin ice here, she immediately curbed her expression and silently warned herself to be a clever maid, never a burden.
Wen Ning then took Xiao Tao to pay respects to the Duke and Duchess. On the second day of marriage, she should have gone together with Shen Zhou. But ever since hearing the news last night of Qiao Yanxin slitting her wrist, Shen Zhou had rushed out and had yet to return.
Wen Ning vaguely recalled that in her previous life it had been the same. Only then, Wen Qing had made a scene all night, and the next day appeared before the Duke and Duchess with a haggard face to lodge complaints.
The Duchess, knowing her son had wronged the girl, had comforted Wen Qing profusely and even gifted her two shops to appease her.
Now, Wen Ning looked at her own radiant complexion and suddenly worried—was her appearance today perhaps *too* good?
When she entered the main hall, the Duke and Duchess had just risen. They already knew of Shen Zhou’s disgraceful behavior the night before.
Facing Wen Ning now, they felt somewhat guilty. Seeing the young girl stand quietly with lowered head, they grew even more remorseful.
Wen Ning stepped forward to offer the proper greetings, but halfway through the ritual, Duchess Xu Wanru hurried to support her.
“Good child, we are all family here. No need for such empty formalities.”
Wen Ning froze. She had thought that a noble household like the Duke’s would be strict about ceremony, yet they proved unexpectedly warm and approachable.
“Yes, Madam,” she replied.
Seeing the young girl’s gentle obedience, Duchess Xu felt all the more ashamed of her son. Softly, she said to Wen Ning: “Good child, just call me Mother.”
T/n: Madam Xu from the Wen household and the Duchess have the surname Xu, though it is written with a different character and pronounced differently. To avoid confusion, I will refer to her as Duchess Xu throughout.
Duchess Xu slipped a white jade bracelet from her wrist. The stone gleamed like frosted snow, translucent and lustrous, warm against the skin—its quality far surpassing the one Madam Xu had given before.
Wen Ning answered sweetly, “Thank you, Mother.”
Duchess Xu had struggled to bear children; after all these years, she had only Shen Zhou. Whenever she saw daughters in other families, she envied them deeply. Now, looking at this sensible, well‑mannered Wen Ning, she thought: *Isn’t this the daughter I’ve always longed for?*
The more she looked, the more she adored her. Suddenly, she felt her son wasn’t entirely useless—at least he had brought her such a lovable daughter‑in‑law.
Halfway through the tea ceremony, Shen Zhou finally rushed in, his face weary, as though he hadn’t slept all night.
The Duke, Shen Shen, glared at him furiously. “You wretch—kneel!”
Without a word, Shen Zhou lifted his robe and knelt.
Still unsatisfied, Shen Shen barked, “Is this how you act as a husband? Abandoning your wife to go carousing—shameful!”
Before he could continue, Wen Ning knelt beside Shen Zhou, her voice trembling: “Father, please calm your anger. It is my fault—I was greedy and asked the heir to fetch me milk tea from Lanting Residence this morning. Please punish me instead.”
Shen Zhou was stunned. Did Wen Ning know what she was saying? He had expected her to cry and complain after last night’s behavior, and had already braced himself for punishment. But this delicate girl had shielded him instead—how loyal!
The Duke, who had already summoned the family rod, hesitated. His son was indeed reckless, but he was also his wife’s darling. If he truly punished him, Duchess Xu would resent him, and he’d end up sleeping in the study again. So Shen Shen relented, muttering with biting irony: “A man must treat his wife properly. Do not let her suffer grievances.”
Shen Zhou’s voice was low. “I understand, Father.”
Duchess Xu was overjoyed. She had thought her son would surely be beaten today, but her daughter‑in‑law proved wise and considerate. On the spot, she ordered servants to bring in a chest filled with silver notes and land deeds. Wen Ning glanced at it and gasped—this was far more than Wen Qing had received in her past life!
After a few final words, the Duke and Duchess dismissed the couple.
On the way back, Shen Zhou’s gaze darkened as he fixed on her. “Why did you lie?”
Wen Ning faltered, caught off guard by his sudden challenge. Just as she was searching for an excuse, voices drifted from behind a rockery—two maids gossiping:
“I heard the heir didn’t return all night, yet the young madam didn’t make a fuss?”
“Perhaps she’s simple‑minded?”
“You’re the fool. She’s only a concubine’s daughter. If she caused a scene and got divorced, what future would she have? She’d end up marrying some old man as a concubine.”
“That’s true. To marry the heir at all is already fortune shining on her ancestors’ graves…”
Shen Zhou instinctively turned to look at Wen Ning. She lowered her head, staring at her embroidered shoes, and whispered: “They’re right, my lord.”
Then she lifted her gaze, her dark eyes glistening, and gave a bitter, self‑mocking smile. “I truly am afraid—afraid you’ll cast me aside.”
Shen Zhou froze. He had told himself not to be swayed by her. Her shielding him before his father must have been cunning, proof of a calculating nature. But now, she laid everything bare: she endured humiliation and protected him only because she feared being discarded.
Looking into her misty eyes, Shen Zhou suddenly felt restless. “If you don’t want to smile, then don’t. It looks awful.”
Wen Ning: “…”