Mr. Xin seemed to be telling Cheng Tianfu about his medical practice. As he spoke, Cheng Tianfu subtly drew out the fact that he had recently visited the Tian family’s suburban estate.
Startled, Mr. Xin asked how his young friend knew of such a private trip.
Cheng Tianfu only smiled without answering, then asked which lady of the Tian household was unwell. Mr. Xin frowned, clearly reluctant to reveal the patient’s condition.
But Cheng Tianfu persisted quietly and somehow persuaded him.
Tongue‑tied and unable to outargue the young man, Mr. Xin seemed cornered. After weighing the matter, he sighed and suddenly recited the prescription he had written. He spoke quickly—too quickly for anyone to remember clearly. When he finished, he said: “That was the formula. As for the illness it treats, you must judge for yourself…”
Then, as if afraid of further questioning, Mr. Xin refused even the food and drink, rose with his daughter, and hurried away.
Cheng Tianfu ignored his fleeing chess partner. He dipped his finger in wine and swiftly wrote the names of the herbs on the table.
As the saying goes, “different trades are like different mountains.” Cheng Tianfu was no physician, and the names of the herbs were unfamiliar. Even with his sharp memory, he faltered after the fourth ingredient, unable to recall the rest.
At that moment, a clear voice beside him spoke: “Scutellaria, amomum, ramie root…”
He turned to see his cousin Sheng Xiangqiao, nibbling almonds while fluently reciting the entire prescription—ten‑plus herbs, not missing a single one.
Cheng Tianfu ordered Qing Yan to fetch a paper and a pen, and quickly wrote down the formula. Then he looked deeply at Sheng Xiangqiao: “You remembered all those herbs at once?”
Sheng Xiangqiao smiled shyly: “In the countryside, my foster mother often took me to dig herbs to sell. I had to know which ones were valuable, so I memorized the names from the apothecaries. When Mr. Xin spoke, they sounded familiar, so I remembered them quickly.”
Cheng Tianfu realized that such memory came not only from training but also from natural intelligence. This little girl wasn’t just clever in small ways. She often surprised him.
Seeing her cousin’s steady gaze, Sheng Xiangqiao tried to please him. “Cousin treats me kindly—giving me allowance, teaching me to write. I only wish to use what little talent I have to help you.”
As she spoke, she smiled sweetly, showing her small white teeth, her eyes curved like a blooming lotus.
Her hometown had fertile soil, rich in medicinal plants. Many villagers lived by gathering herbs.
Perhaps moved by her words, Cheng Tianfu’s cold gaze softened slightly. He asked calmly: “Then do you know what illness this prescription treats?”
The girl shook her head regretfully: “That I don’t know. Perhaps in a few years, once I’ve studied more and read medical texts, I can tell you then.”
Cheng Tianfu said no more, only instructing Qing Yan to fetch a carriage. Second Miss Sheng Xianglan had met some young ladies from allied households and was drinking tea with them, so she did not return with them.
When the carriage arrived, Sheng Xiangqiao boarded and headed back to the Sheng residence, while Cheng Tianfu rode alongside on horseback, escorting her.
Because the carriage moved slowly along the boardwalk to avoid colliding with other festivalgoers, Sheng Xiangqiao could gaze out the window at the lake. There she saw her fiancé standing proudly on a painted pleasure barge, eyebrows relaxed, laughing and drinking with a beautiful woman at the prow.
The bright colors of the barge and the music drifting from it revealed the woman’s identity—clearly not a respectable lady, but one from the pleasure quarters. It seemed the heir was generous with his affections, treating all equally—whether noble daughters or courtesans. Only toward his imperial‑bestowed fiancée did he lack patience.
Sheng Xiangqiao glanced again at her cousin on horseback. His eyes remained fixed ahead, utterly unmoved by the admiring glances of the young women along the path.
Lowering the curtain, Sheng Xiangqiao sighed softly. She had lied to her cousin earlier—she did know what the prescription was for. It was a formula to preserve pregnancy.
Combining this with Mr. Xin’s words, she boldly guessed that a lady of the Tian family was with child.
But according to their conversation, Mr. Xin had been summoned late at night to a secluded suburban estate. If the patient were a legitimate wife, why such secrecy? Why call upon a physician from outside the capital, one about to leave, instead of the imperial doctors?
If the pregnancy were illegitimate, it would have to be hidden. Yet Mr. Xin had prescribed a formula to protect the child, not to end it.
Though young, Sheng Xiangqiao’s worldly experience far surpassed that of pampered noble girls. Thinking it over, and seeing her cousin’s furrowed brow, she guessed the truth: the pregnant woman was likely the widow Tian Peirong.
She recalled that at the incense‑donation ceremony at Qianlong Temple, Tian Peirong had been absent. Gossiping Shen Fangxie had said her aunt was ill and resting at a suburban estate.
But Lady Huishu, radiant at the Emperor’s birthday banquet, had suddenly fallen ill? And so urgently?
If the widow was truly pregnant, who was the child’s father? Thinking of the scandalous rumors about her uncle Cheng Peinian and Tian Peirong, Sheng Xiangqiao could piece together most of the truth.
Tian Peirong was not young, and she had never borne children. Since she had sought a prescription to protect the pregnancy, it seemed she intended to give birth.
But as a widow without status, how could she? With her cunning, she would surely try every means to secure a name for herself and her unborn child.
Recalling how Cheng Peinian had urgently pounded on the Sheng gates to see his wife Guiniang, Sheng Xiangqiao guessed it was because the widow’s belly could not wait. He needed to pacify Guiniang, then find a way to bring Tian Peirong into the household.
Lady Huishu’s earlier scheme to force the Cheng family into divorce had failed. Now, with the pregnancy pressing, she might have to yield and enter the household herself. Yet considering the Tian family’s arrogance, Sheng Xiangqiao doubted it would be so simple—how could the legitimate daughter of the Emperor’s brother agree to be a concubine?
Thus, her cousin Cheng Tianfu was another kind of pitiable soul. At an age when he should be focused solely on his studies, he was forced to worry about his father’s romantic entanglements, even spending the Daughters’ Festival trying to extract information from acquaintances.
Sheng Xiangqiao sighed inwardly at his burdens. She thought of her aunt Guiniang, just taken back to the Cheng household, only to face the thunderbolt of her husband’s affair with the widow’s pregnancy.
As for the Cheng family, they could not afford to break with the Shengs. Likely, they would persuade Guiniang to conceal the scandal for her husband.
If the disgrace leaked, Cheng Peinian’s reputation would collapse, his official post would be lost, and it would drag down Cheng Tianfu’s career and even ruin his sister Cheng Deqing’s marriage prospects.
The Cheng family’s main branch was steeped in petty scheming. They must have planned carefully before sending Second Master to fetch Guiniang back.
Sheng Xiangqiao thought for a while and concluded the Cheng household was riddled with troubles. If the girls who admired her cousin knew, they would surely avoid the family.
What a pity—her cousin was talented and handsome, yet saddled with a libertine father who constantly created problems. Who knew how his upcoming exam would turn out?
Along the way, Sheng Xiangqiao stole glances at Cheng Tianfu’s face. Though still a youth, his composure was too deep. He looked serene, like an immortal untouched by worldly concerns, showing no joy or anger, as if unaware his father’s household was in flames.
When the carriage reached the Sheng residence, Cheng Tianfu noticed the snack box Ning Yan carried. Its contents were few and plain.
Perhaps to thank her for remembering the prescription at the pavilion, Cheng Tianfu ordered Qing Yan to give her four taels of silver.
Sheng Xiangqiao accepted the silver, puzzled, and looked up at him. Cheng Tianfu said calmly: “Have the maids buy food from Dingxiang Pavilion. Don’t buy inferior things. And today’s matter—do not speak of it to anyone.”
Sheng Xiangqiao nodded quickly. She understood: this was silver to seal her lips. Her cousin was shrewd, and she would be sensible enough not to gossip.
She smiled faintly and reciprocated, saying, “Thank you, Cousin. I heard Second Master Cheng sent you persimmons from the old family estate. I’ll make persimmon cakes for you. Also, the books in my room aren’t very interesting—could I borrow some from you to copy and practice my handwriting?”
Cheng Tianfu glanced at her and replied, “I’ll have Qing Yan bring you some persimmons later. You can also go to my study and pick a few books from the shelves.”
With that, he took the servant Qing Yan and headed toward the pharmacy across the street, likely to ask about prescriptions.
The carriage at the front gate would soon return to fetch Second Miss Sheng. Sheng Xiangqiao had come back early, while Sheng Xianglan was still at the waterside pavilion, drinking tea with several young ladies from Prince Yun’s household—though that gathering should be ending soon. As for Sheng Xuanhe, he had not yet returned, and the Old Madam was napping in the afternoon.
After lunch, Sheng Xiangqiao prepared to go to the rear garden, planning to sit on a long bench and read. But when she returned to her room to change clothes, she discovered Nanny Zhao rummaging through her bed. The old woman had pulled out the small silver pouch hidden inside the hollow porcelain pillow and stuffed it into her own bosom—all the money Sheng Xiangqiao had painstakingly saved these past days.
Sheng Xiangqiao realized at once: Nanny Zhao must have seen her accept the four taels of silver from Cheng Tianfu before lunch. This woman’s appetite was truly insatiable; clearly, the offerings she had received before were never enough to satisfy her greed.
Nanny Zhao turned and saw the young girl leaning quietly against the screen, her gaze carrying a chill far beyond her years. Unfazed, the old woman glared back and barked, “What are you looking at! You’re just a country girl, yet now you live the life of a noble lady—that’s a blessing beyond measure. You ought to learn contentment. Besides, at your age, silver is of no use to you. Better I keep it safe for you. When the Prince no longer needs you, I’ll return it then!”
In Nanny Zhao’s eyes, Sheng Xiangqiao was merely an eleven- or twelve-year-old child, easy enough to fool with a few words. That Cheng Tianfu was far too generous, always giving the girl silver. Truly, coming to the Sheng household was a profitable post!
Listening to Nanny Zhao’s self-righteous speech, Sheng Xiangqiao lowered her gaze and smiled faintly. “Thank you, Nanny Zhao, for your trouble. With you keeping my silver safe, I can rest easy.”