The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches of the crabapple trees in the Marquis’s garden, scattering tiny golden patches on the ground.
The early spring breeze still carried a chill, but it had already awakened the forsythia in the corner of the wall. Tender yellow petals dotted the branches, glistening with morning dew, contrasting with the red lanterns still hanging under the corridor, creating a subtle feeling of old and new merging—just like the Marquis’s estate at this moment. After Wen Yinyue had reclaimed her dowry, the old power structure was loosening, while new undercurrents quietly began to stir.
Wen Yinyue held Wen Lingxi’s hand as they walked along the cobblestone path.
She wore a pale moon-white brocade dress with subtle patterns, the hem embroidered with a few pale green orchids, and over it, a sheer gray cloak, as thin as cicada wings. The mutton-fat jade pendant at her waist was mostly hidden by the cloak, only occasionally catching the light when she moved.
After three days of settling accounts, fatigue lingered in her brow, but it added to a serene strength. Even her steps were steadier than when she first returned to the Marquis’s estate.
“Mommy, look!” Lingxi suddenly stopped, pointing at a crabapple tree nearby.
At five years old, she wore a pink jacketed skirt embroidered with tiny dandelions. Her two braids were tied with matching pom-poms that swayed lightly as she ran and jumped.
In her hand, she held a freshly picked forsythia, its petals still moist. “The crabapple tree is about to bloom! Aunt Zhang Ping said when the crabapple flowers bloom, the ice-skin grass in the valley will sprout too!”
Wen Yinyue bent to touch her daughter’s head and smiled. “Yes. In a few days, we’ll go back to the valley to check. I’ll ask Junye to make you a mechanism box shaped like a crabapple flower, okay?”
“Yes, yes!” Lingxi clapped happily and turned to find Wen Junye following behind. “Brother! Mommy said she’ll make me a mechanism box!”
Junye wore a sapphire-blue cotton robe, holding a small wooden toy—a miniature slingshot he had just made for shooting sparrows in the garden.
Hearing his sister, he slowed his steps. When Lingxi ran up to him, he gently nodded. “Yes, I’ll make one with petals. It won’t poke your hand.”
His face showed little expression, but his gaze softened. He brushed the grass off her skirt, protecting his sister like a little adult.
Wen Yinyue watched their interaction, a smile just forming on her lips, when she heard the faint clinking of hairpins behind her, accompanied by deliberately light footsteps—the sound of Wen Wanru.
Turning, she saw Wen Wanru wearing a lotus-colored silk gown, the hem embroidered with intricate intertwined lotus patterns. Silver thread lined the collar and cuffs, and a golden hairpin with jade decorations jingled in her hair, the pearls swaying with each step, dizzying to the eyes.
Two maids in blue cloth uniforms followed, holding a tea tray and a food box, the display even grander than when Wen Yinyue first returned to the estate.
Clearly, Wen Wanru already knew about the dowry being reclaimed but still wanted to show off in front of Wen Yinyue using her “Second Miss of the Marquis’s Estate” status.
“What a good mood, taking two children for a walk in the garden.”
Wen Wanru approached Wen Yinyue, her gaze falling on Lingxi. A faint, almost imperceptible envy flashed in her eyes—Lingxi’s delicate features and lively aura were even more endearing than Wen Wanru’s own childhood. And such a lovely child happened to belong to Wen Yinyue.
She deliberately raised her voice so that the gardener trimming branches nearby could hear. “This child is truly adorable, skin so tender, like a little dumpling. But I wonder… who is the child’s father?”
She feigned regret. “After Wen Yinyue ‘disappeared’ five years ago, she never had any other connections. Suddenly this child appears—if others outside find out, they’ll gossip, saying…”
“Shut up!”
Lingxi’s face instantly flushed red, tears forming in her eyes, and the forsythia in her hand fell to the ground with a soft “plop.”
Though only five, she understood that “without a father” was an insult. In the valley, the elders of Xiaoyao Pavilion had always treated her with care, and no one had ever spoken like that.
She rushed into Wen Yinyue’s arms, clutching her mother’s cloak tightly, yet stubbornly lifting her chin and staring at Wen Wanru, her voice trembling with tears but clear: “I have a father! My dad is a great hero! Mommy said he will come back for us!”
Junye stepped forward, standing beside Lingxi. His small fists clenched tightly, his gaze coldly fixed on Wen Wanru like a protective little beast. Though he didn’t know his father, he wouldn’t allow anyone to bully his sister or mother.
Wen Yinyue hugged Lingxi, gently patting her back to comfort her. Then she looked at Wen Wanru with eyes cold as ice.
She didn’t call her “sister” or mince words. She struck at Wen Wanru’s sore spot: “Wen Wanru, who my daughter’s father is is none of your business. But I can tell you this: he is a hundred times stronger than the prince you pine for. Though the prince is a royal, he allows his subordinates to embezzle and even withhold grain from the people. My daughter’s father is a man with a heart for the world, never abusing his strength. You have no right to judge him.”
Her voice wasn’t loud but carried clearly to everyone nearby.
Wen Wanru’s face instantly paled, then flushed purple—her greatest reliance, the prince, and her confidence in the elite circles of Beijing, had just been insulted publicly. Wen Yinyue dared to say that the prince was no match for an “unknown man.” It was a slap in her face.
“You… you’re lying!”
Wen Wanru trembled with anger, pointing at Wen Yinyue, but no words came to mind. “The prince is the future heir! How dare you slander him! I’ll tell my father. He will punish you!”
“You can go tell him.” Wen Yinyue spoke calmly, full of disdain. “Tell your father that I not only ‘slandered’ the prince, but also know that five years ago, you slipped poison into the ‘calming medicine’ meant for me. I also know that your mother secretly transferred Marquis estate property to her family. Tell me, will your father help you, or me?”
Wen Wanru froze, her color draining instantly. She hadn’t expected Wen Yinyue to know about the “calming medicine.” That matter had been extremely secret, known only to her and her mother. How could Wen Yinyue have found out?
Seeing Wen Yinyue’s calm gaze, she suddenly recalled the recent rumors in Beijing about Xiaoyao Pavilion—if Wen Yinyue could bring down even corrupt officials like Magistrate Li, she likely already had evidence from five years ago. Her confidence collapsed, and she no longer dared to act arrogantly.
“You… just wait!” Wen Wanru spat a weak threat, glaring at Wen Yinyue before turning and leaving. The pearls on her hairpin shook even more violently, as if to hide her panic.
Her two maids hurried after her, forgetting even to pick up the food box that had fallen.
Watching Wen Wanru’s embarrassed retreat, Lingxi peeked from Wen Yinyue’s arms and softly asked, “Mommy, she was lying, right? I really have a father, right?”
Wen Yinyue bent down, picking up her daughter and kissing her cheek. Her gaze was gentle but firm. “Yes, Lingxi has a father, and Junye has one too. He is a very capable man. He just has important matters to attend to now. When he’s done, he will come back to us.”
She didn’t know who the man in the dark brocade robe was, or if he remembered her, but she didn’t want her children to grow up lacking the thought of a “father”—it gave them confidence to face gossip and slander.
Junye walked over, picking up the fallen forsythia and handing it to Lingxi. “Sister, the flower’s fine. Don’t be sad. If she bullies you again, I’ll use the slingshot on her hairpin.”
His expression remained calm, but his tone carried undeniable protectiveness.
Lingxi took the flower, wiping away her tears and smiling. She pinned it onto Wen Yinyue’s cloak. “Mommy, this is for you. Isn’t it pretty?”
Wen Yinyue smiled, nodded, and held the hands of her two children as they continued deeper into the garden. The late afternoon sunlight had grown warmer, falling over them and stretching their shadows long.
New buds on the crabapple branches tinged with pink, the forsythia bloomed brighter, and the breeze carried a faint floral scent. The earlier conflict had passed quickly, like a brief gust of wind.