The lotus flowers in the small courtyard were in full bloom. Beneath the blazing midsummer sun, the heat seemed capable of melting a person alive.
Song Zhiwei stood beside a large water vat filled with lotus blooms, a round silk fan clasped in one hand. A trace of confusion lingered in her expression.
Today was her fourth day after transmigrating into this world. For the first two days, she had been bedridden with a high fever brought on by nearly drowning. Yesterday, she spent most of her time sorting through the memories she had inherited. By this morning, however, she felt much better. After having a light lunch, her personal maid hurriedly ushered her over to her grandmother’s courtyard to pay her respects.
Because of the dry summer heat, her grandmother had ordered water vats placed throughout the courtyard and planted with lotus flowers. The arrangement not only cooled the air but also provided a pleasant view.
After standing so long, Song Zhiwei’s legs began to ache. Concealed by the folds of her skirt, she quietly shifted her weight and stretched them a little. As for how she had died in her previous life, she could no longer remember clearly.
Her last memory was finishing an exhausting week at the hospital and finally enjoying a rare vacation. She had pulled an all-nighter, listening to birdsong in the early morning while catching up on a serialized novel she had been following. And now, her name was still Song Zhiwei. She was a young lady related through the maternal line, a cousin who had journeyed thousands of miles from the remote prefecture of Qingzhou to seek shelter in the Marquis’s estate. She had fallen for the household’s eldest young master. So she made decorative knotwork for him, embroidered sachets for him, and even prepared homemade treats with her own hands. Using a chance encounter as an excuse, she had once confessed her feelings to him beside the estate’s pond, pouring out her heart.
Who would have thought that not only would her cousin, who had deliberately kept his distance from her, coldly reject her confession, but a cousin from her eldest aunt’s branch would also overhear it? In a fit of anger, the girl had shoved her straight into the pond.
The summer heat had been oppressive, and the original Song Zhiwei had already been suffering from mild heatstroke that day, leaving her weak and vulnerable. Caught completely off guard when she fell into the water, she developed a high fever that lasted for several days. And then she died.
When she opened her eyes again, the soul inside was someone else entirely.
“Miss Wei, the Old Madam is asking you to come in.” The elderly servant stationed by the door wore a kindly smile, her manner exceptionally gentle.
Song Zhiwei nodded and stepped inside. She wore a simple-colored skirt and blouse. Still growing into her figure, she was slender and graceful. Her small oval face held delicate, refined features. Though her beauty wasn’t the breathtaking sort that turned heads at first glance, the phrase “a modest jade among common folk” suited her perfectly.
Slightly nervous, Song Zhiwei bent her waist and ducked beneath the heavy curtain.
Spotless white paper covered the windows, softening the sunlight that filtered into the room. The polished wooden furnishings gleamed, filling the air with the pleasant fragrance of fine timber.
Passing through an eight-panel sandalwood folding screen inlaid with precious ornaments, Song Zhiwei entered the inner reception hall and felt her eyes brighten at once.
Aside from the antique display shelf to one side, the most striking sights before her were the elderly lady seated in the place of honor and the imposing Eight Immortals table beside her.
The old madam, Madam Xu, leaned against the table. Though advanced in age, she remained bright-eyed and vigorous. She wore a light brown cross-collared summer robe. Outside, the heat was stifling, but servants had placed four basins of ice throughout the room and gently waved fans nearby. No trace of perspiration showed on her body, though her mood seemed somewhat irritable. Hearing movement at the doorway, she lifted her eyes. The moment she saw the young figure entering, her gaze froze. For an instant, memories of her second daughter resurfaced.
Over her life, Madam Xu had borne eight children. The first three were daughters, and the rest were sons. Among them, the third and fifth children had died in infancy. The fourth and seventh had fallen on the battlefield. Of all her children, only three remained alive today.
Song Zhiwei’s birth mother was Gu Fangruo, Madam Xu’s second daughter. In Madam Xu’s memory, she was a woman who never fought for attention or advantage, someone with the gentlest, most considerate temperament.
Back when her third and fifth children died one after the other, Madam Xu had spent night after night unable to sleep. Painful sores erupted in her mouth, and she could neither eat nor drink. During that time, her second daughter stayed by her side, feeding her easily digestible rice porridge day after day and personally helping her wash and care for herself. Even after doing all that, she never boasted about her efforts or sought recognition. Whenever there was something good to be had, she would hang back and let her elder sister and younger siblings take it first.
Madam Xu loved her as well. It was just that the family had so many children that she was sometimes overlooked.
The eldest and second daughters were close in age, so when it came time to arrange marriages, Madam Xu looked for suitable matches for them at the same time.
The eldest daughter’s marriage was especially important. First, the groom’s family had to have sufficient status and prestige to support her younger brothers and sisters in the future.
Second, because the eldest daughter had a strong personality, her husband could not be overly domineering. Otherwise, the household would have no peace. After careful consideration, Madam Xu arranged a marriage between her eldest daughter and the Duke Cheng’s second legitimate son.
The second daughter’s marriage naturally could not surpass her elder sister’s. Moreover, the master of the household hoped to cultivate ties with the civil bureaucracy. Fortunately, his second daughter was gentle and virtuous, with a temperament that could endure hardship.
After asking her husband to keep an eye out, Madam Xu found a scholarly family of modest means. Though the second daughter’s life might not be as wealthy or prestigious as her elder sister’s, Madam Xu believed that the future son-in-law would inevitably rely on his father-in-law’s support. At the very least, her daughter ought to enjoy a stable marriage.
Whenever she met Song Qingya, her prospective second son-in-law, he carried himself as a humble and courteous gentleman. Madam Xu had been quite satisfied. She therefore constantly instructed her second daughter to be considerate of her husband and never to throw her family background around or act tyrannically in her marital home. Such behavior was unbecoming of a well-bred young lady from a distinguished family.
Who could have expected that the eldest daughter’s marriage would grow happier and happier? Husband and wife treated one another with mutual respect and affection and led a fulfilling life together.
Yet it was the second daughter, who by all rights should have caused no concern, who repeatedly sent letters home lamenting her circumstances. She complained that her mother-in-law constantly imposed rules upon her. Every morning she had to attend to her mother-in-law from dawn, assisting with washing, dressing, meals, and changing clothes and stockings. She stayed on her feet until nightfall and could only rest after putting her mother-in-law to bed. Her husband, too, treated her coldly. Nine out of ten nights, he spent them in his concubines’ quarters.
Madam Xu could only feel anger. She had taught her daughter so carefully before marriage, so why was she behaving like this now? Wasn’t serving one’s mother-in-law with filial devotion precisely what a daughter-in-law ought to do? How could she have the nerve to write home and complain?
She couldn’t even win her husband’s affection, yet she was jealous of the concubines? More than a year had passed since the wedding, and she still was not pregnant. What would her husband’s family think of her?
Furious, Madam Xu wrote a severe letter rebuking her daughter. She warned her not to continue acting spoiled and resentful. If she persisted and were eventually divorced, the family would refuse to acknowledge her as their daughter.
Even after sending the letter, Madam Xu remained uneasy. She carefully selected medicinal herbs, gold jewelry, and silver ornaments. She had them delivered over a long distance to her daughter’s household, along with apologies that her daughter had not been properly taught, and asked her in-laws and son-in-law not to take offense.
After that, her second daughter never sent letters home again. Even during holidays and festivals, only gifts arrived.
Madam Xu assumed her daughter was still sulking, but she considered herself broad-minded and did not take it to heart. Then came the news of her second daughter’s death. That day, she had been playing with her little grandson, smiling as she doted on him, when a servant suddenly reported that the Second Madam had passed away. For a moment, she could not even process the words.
The Second Madam? Which Second Madam?
Only then did she realize they meant her second daughter. Now that the family had grandchildren, her married daughters were naturally referred to as “Madams.”
It was broad daylight, yet a heavy weight settled suddenly in Madam Xu’s chest. By then, her second daughter had been married for more than ten years. Because her son-in-law was constantly relocating with his family to serve in official posts elsewhere, he rarely returned to the capital. As a result, Madam Xu had not seen her daughter even once since her marriage. In her memory, her second daughter was still a shy, delicate girl with twin hair buns, blooming like a flower. But too much time had passed. The image of that young girl had already blurred in Madam Xu’s memory.