At dawn in Beijing, the city was still shrouded in mist. At a rice shop in the northern market, the clerks had already removed the door panels and stacked burlap sacks of rough rice at the entrance.
The shop manager, Wang San, usually lively and shouting orders, was now quiet, huddled behind the counter, repeatedly flipping through the ledger. Last night, he had heard that Liu Hao of Jin Xiu Cloth Shop had been kicked out and that Wen Yinyue had returned to reclaim all the dowry shops.
“Good morning, Manager Wang.”
A crisp voice with an unmistakable pressure reached him. Wen Yinyue stepped through the morning mist, wearing a dark brocade dress with a black cloak. The lamb-white jade pendant at her waist gleamed softly in the sunlight.
Lin Feng followed her, flanked by two Shadow members, all in black martial attire with pale silver “Xiao” patterns on the cuffs. Their tall, straight postures and sharp gazes swept across the rice shop, instantly freezing the air.
Wang San’s heart skipped. He hurriedly forced a smile: “M-Miss… What brings you here? Do you want rice? I can pack it for you right now…”
“I didn’t come for rice.”
Wen Yinyue cut him off, walking to the counter and placing a property deed on the table. “This rice shop was part of my mother’s dowry. Five years ago, Lady Liu handed it over to you to manage. Now, I am reclaiming it.”
Wang San’s smile stiffened. His hands tightened on the ledger. “Miss… you must be joking. Lady Liu had me manage this shop. I’m just an employee—I can’t decide anything myself.”
He tried to feign ignorance, but he knew Lady Liu could no longer protect him.
Lin Feng stepped forward, placing a stack of papers in front of Wang San—evidence collected by Xiaoyao Pavilion. “Manager Wang, last year you embezzled 300 taels from the rice shop and mixed moldy rice with the good stock to sell to customers. Do you think no one knows?”
His voice was low, carrying undeniable authority. “You have two choices: hand over the shop keys and work under Miss Wen, with past mistakes forgiven and double pay, or we submit this evidence to the authorities, and you can reflect on it in prison.”
Wang San’s face turned pale. Seeing the clear records showing exactly how much he had embezzled each day, he no longer dared argue.
Trembling, he took the keys from the drawer and handed them to Wen Yinyue. “Miss… I will follow you! I swear I won’t make such mistakes again!”
Wen Yinyue took the keys and handed them to the Shadow members behind her. “Continue managing the rice shop for now. Xiaoyao Pavilion will assign someone to oversee the ledgers. If you embezzle again, the consequences are yours.”
“Yes! Yes! I understand!” Wang San nodded repeatedly, sweat streaming down his face.
By noon that same day, another confrontation unfolded at Ningxiang Pavilion in Rouge Alley.
The manager, Mrs. Liu, a distant cousin of Lady Liu, wore a peach-red satin jacket and gold hair ornaments, hands on her hips, shouting at Wen Yinyue: “I’m telling you, Wen Yinyue! Lady Liu entrusted this Ningxiang Pavilion to me. You want it back? No way! I’ll go to Lady Liu for justice!”
Wen Yinyue stayed calm. She picked up a box of rouge from the counter and opened it gently—inside, the rouge contained fine talc, a low-quality mix. She handed it to Mrs. Liu. “Manager Liu, the rouge you’re selling is mixed with talc. Using it can harm the skin. If word gets out, do you think customers will still buy it?”
Mrs. Liu’s face changed, but she still tried to argue: “I… I didn’t mean it! Besides, this is my business. You don’t need to interfere!”
“You’re right, I don’t need to interfere,” Wen Yinyue smiled. She turned to Lin Feng: “Deliver the evidence that Mrs. Liu sold substandard rouge to Mrs. Zhang and Miss Li to their residences.”
“Yes,” Lin Feng replied, moving to leave.
Now Mrs. Liu panicked. Mrs. Zhang and Miss Li were prominent noblewomen in Beijing. If they discovered they’d been deceived, Ningxiang Pavilion would collapse, and she would be ostracized among the noblewomen.
She grabbed Lin Feng, voice softening. “Don’t… don’t deliver it! Miss, I was wrong! I’ll give Ningxiang Pavilion back to you. Please don’t send the evidence!”
Wen Yinyue looked at her calmly. “Then let’s save time. If you want to stay, manage the shop properly and use genuine rouge—I’ll raise your salary by 20%. If not, you can leave now.”
Mrs. Liu gritted her teeth but ultimately chose to stay. Ningxiang Pavilion was her only foothold in Beijing. Without it, she’d have nowhere to live. “I’ll stay! I’ll do my best!”
The next day, Wen Yinyue and Lin Feng went to the farmland outside the city.
In the western suburbs, on 150 acres of wheat fields, tenant farmers were weeding. Seeing Wen Yinyue and her group, they paused, wary. Lady Liu’s previous stewards often raised rent and beat tenants, so they feared the new owner would be equally harsh.
“Dear villagers,” Wen Yinyue called from a ridge, her voice carrying across the fields, “I am Wen Yinyue. These fields were my mother’s dowry. I’ve reclaimed them, and there is one rule: rent is 70% of previous years, and in case of natural disasters, rent is fully waived. Any steward who dares to beat you or raise rent illegally, come to me—I will handle it!”
The tenants froze, then erupted in cheers. An elderly farmer with white hair shakily approached and knelt: “Miss! You’re a living saint! Lady Liu’s stewards used to overcharge rent by 20% every year. We couldn’t hold on!”
Wen Yinyue quickly helped him up. “Grandfather, stand up. This is my duty. Work the land well, and life will improve.”
Lin Feng and his members found the steward Lady Liu had sent—a burly man extorting extra “management fees” under a tree.
Lin Feng didn’t waste words. He showed Wen Yinyue’s order, threw the steward’s belongings onto a cart, and said coldly: “You are dismissed. If you cause trouble in the fields again, don’t blame us.”
The steward looked at the Shadow members behind Lin Feng, all sharp-eyed, and slunk away without a word.
On the third day at dawn, in the marquis’s household accounts office, Wen Yinyue was reviewing the last deed—the 50 acres of irrigated land in the eastern suburbs. The name on the deed was finally changed from Lady Liu’s brother back to Wen Yinyue.
Lin Feng stood beside her, handing over a summary: “Master, all ten shops and 500 acres of farmland have been reclaimed. Seven former managers appointed by Lady Liu chose to stay, three were dismissed and replaced by trusted Xiaoyao Pavilion members. The tenant farmers are satisfied with the new rent policy and have begun paying accordingly.”
Wen Yinyue took the summary, examining it carefully, a faint smile of satisfaction on her lips.
Over these three days, she and Lin Feng split their tasks: visiting shops and farmland by day, returning to the marquis’s mansion to reconcile accounts by night. Exhausting, but fulfilling—the properties were her mother’s hard work and secured her and her children’s future. Now, they were restored to their rightful owner.
“Thank you, Lin Feng,” Wen Yinyue looked at him. “Without you and your team, I couldn’t have reclaimed all the properties so quickly.”
Lin Feng shook his head, tone firm: “Serving the Master is my duty. Now that the properties are back, shouldn’t we investigate your fall from the cliff five years ago?”
Wen Yinyue’s gaze turned cold, nodding: “Yes. Lady Liu and Wen Wanru owe me more than these properties—they owe me for a life lost five years ago. But for now, let Lady Liu ‘rest’ a few days.”
Inside the warm chamber of the marquis’s mansion, Lady Liu lay on her bed, pale as paper, lips cracked, a maid feeding her medicine.
Since learning on the first day that Ningxiang Pavilion had been reclaimed, then losing the rice shop and farmland, and having all her old managers dismissed, her spirit had collapsed. She was now gravely ill.
“Madam, please don’t get angry. If you worsen your health…” the maid whispered.
Lady Liu coughed, tears falling, voice hoarse: “How can I not be angry? That little wench Wen Yinyue returned and took all my properties! I’ve worked so hard for five years—is it all over?” She was frustrated but powerless—Wen Yinyue had undeniable evidence, and the Marquis of Anyuan no longer favored her.
“Madam, Miss said once you recover, she might ask the Crown Prince for help to reclaim the properties,” the maid added.
Lady Liu bitterly shook her head. Wen Wanru was focused on the Crown Prince and would never truly help her. Besides, the Crown Prince wouldn’t risk angering Wen Yinyue backed by Xiaoyao Pavilion for the sake of a marquis’s wife. Her good days were truly over.
That evening, Wen Yinyue stood under the begonia tree at Tingyu Pavilion, watching the sunset cast light over the courtyard.
After three days of work, Tingyu Pavilion had been transformed—weeds cleared, windows sparkling, new furniture and bedding inside, the begonia tree pruned and vibrant.
Lin Feng approached, handing her a report: “Master, Xiaoyao Pavilion found that after your fall five years ago, Lady Liu sent people to search the cliff, trying to confirm if you were dead. Heavy rains caused a flood, and the search ended. Also, Wen Wanru once gave you a bowl of ‘calming medicine,’ which may have contained something extra.”
Wen Yinyue took the report, clenching it tightly, eyes full of icy determination.
The truth of five years ago was finally about to surface. She looked toward the marquis’s mansion, silently thinking: Lady Liu, Wen Wanru—you wait. This reckoning is far from over.
The sun gradually set, stretching Tingyu Pavilion’s shadows long across the courtyard.