Madam Qin seemed persuaded by the elders, slowly rising to change her attire and prepare to enter the palace to seek justice for her daughter.
Such a scene was beyond the Imperial Uncle Tian’s expectations. He was unsettled, quickly rising to persuade the elders to calm down, insisting this was a family matter best settled privately—how could they trouble the Emperor and Empress with it?
If it were only Sheng Xuanhe, he could be handled—benefits could be offered, and face preserved. Matters could be discussed slowly, each side protecting its dignity.
But now Madam Qin had gathered a band of stubborn old men to make a scene. These elders, leaning on their seniority, were not easy to deal with. If they truly went to the palace, the Emperor and Empress might be forced into a corner, compelled to punish the Tian family severely.
For Tian Xianzhong and Cheng Peinian, both officials at court, such disgrace would be unbearable.
In his frustration, Tian Xianzhong turned his shame and anger on the Cheng brothers—why had they let a matter solvable with money escalate to the throne?
Cheng Peinian, realizing the danger, tried to persuade Sheng Guiniang to reconsider. After more than ten years of marriage, why tear their faces apart with divorce?
So he urged the Tian family to compromise, allowing Tian Peirong to enter as a concubine for now. But Tian Xianzhong, unwilling to let his daughter be demeaned, still insisted she must enter as co‑wife. Though he had listened to his daughter’s whispered plea earlier, he had his own calculations. The Chengs were wealthy, but merchants’ fortunes were limited. Even if they compensated the Shengs, they could earn more later. Cheng Peinian had his official salary, and the Tian family would support their daughter—she would not starve.
But for the Imperial Uncle’s daughter to become a concubine? That would be a joke too great to bear.
Thus, the three sides held firm, none yielding, leaving Cheng Peinian trapped in the middle, sweating with anxiety.
Sheng Xuanhe, head of the Sheng household, found himself powerless. He had never imagined his mother would secretly summon these elders. Fearing the chaos to come, he feigned chest pain and withdrew, chewing his medicine pills.
At last, the clan elders lost patience. They shoved aside those blocking them, strode out, and ordered a carriage to take them to the palace to beat the drum of petition.
Tian Xianzhong pulled the Cheng brothers aside, using threats and promises—whatever he said, Cheng Peifeng finally relented.
But Cheng Peifeng made it clear: before compensating Sheng Guiniang’s children, the estates of the elder and younger branches must be divided. His younger brother’s sins could not be paid for with the elder branch’s share.
Madam Qin, looking tireless, immediately ordered the Chengs to summon their accountants, bring the ledgers, and divide the property, calculating the children’s portions as well.
Cheng Peifeng found this distasteful and snapped: “Our Cheng family has a reputation. Do you think we would default on debts?”
The clan elders retorted: “I see little honor in your Cheng household. While we old men are still here, hurry and settle this matter! Spare our eldest girl from wasting words with you little whelps!”
The two Cheng brothers, faces flushed with shame, had no choice but to summon the accountants to work through the night.
When the accountants arrived, it didn’t take long to tally everything. The second branch of the Cheng family had considerable assets, but nothing beyond what was typical for a wealthy household in the capital.
Dividing Second Master Cheng’s estate into three parts yielded far less than expected.
At that moment, Cheng Tianfu, who had been silent, suddenly pulled up a chair beside the accountants.
A talent fit for the top scholar’s rank was not only gifted in literature—his arithmetic was also exceptional. With a sweep of his long sleeves, he took up a brush, circled figures, and calmly pointed out the accountants’ mistakes.
The second branch had never managed its own affairs; all shops and properties were overseen by the elder branch. But since the age of twelve, Cheng Tianfu had often visited the accountants, claiming he wished to learn bookkeeping.
Cheng Peifeng had thought of him as just a child with a fleeting interest and let him be. Who would have guessed that he had quietly studied for years, diligently, without ever exposing the accountants’ errors—until now.
The boy’s calculations were clear and precise. He even unearthed old accounts buried in the ledgers, exposing deficits in the elder branch’s public funds. He recited details of shipping vessels, monthly revenues, and household expenditures as if they were second nature.
With this reckoning, the previous division was shown to be gravely inaccurate.
The clan elders erupted, cursing the Chengs as a family of unscrupulous merchants, and demanded that Madam Qin change into her formal robes and petition the Emperor at once.
Cheng Peinian, enraged, grabbed his elder brother’s collar—how could he still be fiddling with false accounts at such a time? Was he trying to destroy both him and the Cheng family’s foundation?
So the accounts had to be recalculated. All through the night, the estate was sorted and the compensations clarified.
Several elders, exhausted, lay down on couches brought by servants. The rest endured with tea, watching the boy work line by line with the accountants.
Tian Xianzhong, staring at the growing list, felt his face lengthen. He had not realized the Chengs’ wealth was so vast—their lands, shops, shipping rights, and salt licenses were countless, enough to make anyone’s eyes burn with envy.
Tian Peirong’s face turned ashen with anger. These assets, which she believed should belong to her and her future children, were being divided before her eyes, and she could not utter a word of protest. How could she swallow such humiliation?
Cheng Peinian, watching his son calmly tally accounts, cursed him inwardly as a wretched child—was this a debt‑collector reborn? His father was not even dead, yet here he was dividing the estate like a greedy beast, swallowing everything without giving back.
When the second branch’s shops and lands were finally apportioned, two‑thirds of the deeds under the siblings’ names filled an entire wooden chest. Banknotes and gold had to be packed separately. Tian Xianzhong dearly wished that the matter concerned just the Shengs, Chengs, and Tians.
When the accounts were finally tallied, it became clear: the Cheng family’s wealth was vast, rivaling that of a small state. Tian Xianzhong suddenly regretted—he had been careless, and now half of this “kingdom” had been divided away. Once his daughter entered the household, what would remain for her?
But the clan elders kept a watchful eye, sharp and unyielding. They were blunt men, and if word spread, it could tarnish the Empress’s reputation. The Emperor, who valued virtue, might summon him for rebuke. Now the only way forward was to use wealth to avert disaster, yielding to the Shengs’ demands.
By dawn, under the elders’ supervision, the two families drafted formal documents, and the divorce was finalized.
Madam Qin had not slept all night, yet as she looked over the stack of land deeds, her spirit was refreshed.
The Chengs had been too arrogant, never taking the Shengs seriously. Did they think her daughter was some cast‑off village woman? A Sheng daughter, even divorced three or four times, would never lack suitors. But before she remarried, she would strip the Chengs of a layer of their skin.
As her grandson had said, the Chengs prized profit over honor. Since that was so, they must bleed heavily.
As for troubling the Emperor, though it would feel satisfying, His Majesty would never depose the Empress over her niece’s misconduct. If the Shengs forced the Emperor to punish the Tian family, it would seem ungracious and leave them open to gossip.
Her daughter’s marriage was finished, but she had to think of her son’s and grandson’s future careers.
Cheng Tianfu, with such integrity, would rather defer the exam than accept the Tian family’s favors. A man of such spirit, even if he never became an official, would surely achieve greatness.
Cheng Deqing, with her dowry secured, would leave with Sheng Guiniang, spared from the disgrace of living under that scandalous widow. She would surely find a good household in time.
Tian Xianzhong, seeing matters settled, forced a smile and bid farewell with his resentful daughter. Though the Shengs had stripped the Chengs’ wealth, they had yielded the position of principal wife, preserving the Empress’s dignity. Outwardly, the Tian family had to show gratitude.
Cheng Peifeng, however, was sick with anger, blaming Tian Peirong—if she had agreed to be a concubine, the Chengs would not have lost half their fortune. With this gilded troublemaker entering, he thought bitterly that the Sheng wife had been better.
Cheng Peinian felt as if in a dream. Before he could grasp it, his wife and children were leaving the household. But wealth could be earned again. His son, after all, was still his heir. How could he side so openly with his maternal family?
As they prepared to leave, Cheng Peinian called Cheng Tianfu aside in the garden, scolding him sternly: “You are a fool. You must remember you are a Cheng. If you follow your mother, you will be rootless, living under the Shengs’ roof. Is that truly what you want?”
Cheng Tianfu looked silently at his father. Only after the tirade ended did he speak: “When I was young, I thought my parents were loving, unlike my uncle’s household with its swarm of concubines. But at five years old, I accompanied you to a banquet and saw you meeting a courtesan in secret in the back chambers. Then I knew I had misunderstood you…”
Cheng Peinian never expected his son to suddenly bring up a scandal from years ago—something he himself had nearly forgotten. He stared at his son, dumbfounded.
Cheng Tianfu said calmly: “Father, have you forgotten? It was the time I set fire to the pavilion at Prince Xian’s residence. I was young then, and thought you were merely drunk and out of control. I believed that if a fire broke out, it might sober you up.”
At this, Cheng Peinian finally remembered. That fire had indeed disrupted one of his fleeting affairs. At the time, he thought the boy was simply mischievous and punished him by making him kneel in the ancestral hall. He never realized Cheng Tianfu had done it because he had caught him secretly meeting a courtesan.
“Did you ever tell your mother?” Cheng Peinian asked in a low voice, unable to deny it.
Cheng Tianfu gave a cold laugh: “I always hoped for harmony at home. I didn’t want Mother to suffer from Father’s disgrace, so of course I said nothing. But later, I discovered Father had many women. Fires and hornet nests could not stop the endless rain of your affairs.”
Cheng Peinian’s face collapsed entirely. He muttered: “A true man does not fuss over trifles. Having three or four concubines is natural. Besides, I never brought those women into the household…”
Cheng Tianfu suddenly interrupted, his voice sharp: “Father, that is not because you cherished Mother’s feelings! It was because, when you sought to marry into the Shengs, you promised my grandmother you would never take concubines. Mother begged you, and only then did Grandmother agree to let her marry you. When the Shengs were strong, you respected her dignity and kept your affairs outside. But now that the Shengs have declined, you cling to the Tian family’s tree, and immediately want to bring in another principal wife! You—”
Before he could finish, there was a sharp *slap*.
Cheng Peinian, face dark with rage, struck his son hard. Being confronted so directly, he could not bear the shame.
Cheng Tianfu turned his head slightly from the blow, then looked back at his father with indifference: “Father need not be angry. I am no longer under the Cheng household’s tutelage, so you need not trouble yourself to raise your hand. But you should know—I was never as unruly as you thought. All these years, I have exhausted myself covering for you. Now that you are determined to marry again, I will not stand in your way. Please rest assured that, from now on, Mother and my sister will be cared for by me. I even congratulate Father on his new marriage, and wish you early joy in sons.”
His tone remained calm, but every word pierced Cheng Peinian’s heart, leaving him utterly humiliated. He realized then—his son must have revealed all his years of debauchery to Sheng Guiniang, which had driven her to the painful decision to divorce. And he remembered: Cheng Tianfu had indeed grown unruly from the age of five. But who would have thought that at such a young age, he had already carried such heavy secrets?
But once a father’s authority could no longer stand before his son, Cheng Peinian left in haste, almost as if fleeing in defeat.
Cheng Tianfu stood beneath the tree, watching his father’s figure recede. Then he turned toward a nearby rockery, picked up an embroidered shoe wedged in the stones, and called up toward the thick branches: “If you’ve heard enough, come down now.”
Hidden among the leaves, Sheng Xiangqiao shrank her neck. She hadn’t expected Cheng Tianfu’s sharp eyes to notice the shoe she had dropped.
The situation was awkward. Yet she could hardly be blamed—she had arrived first, climbing the tree to pick fruit for her grandmother’s tea, not to eavesdrop on father and son.
So when she scrambled down, she quickly spoke before her cousin could scold her: “My ears aren’t good, and the tree was too high. I didn’t hear a thing. Please don’t worry, Cousin. Even if you don’t give me silver to keep quiet, I won’t spread it around.”
Such a scene of father and son breaking ties was not fit for listening behind walls. If she had known, she would have stayed in bed that morning.
The previous night, the hall had been filled with elders dividing property. Madam Qin had led them through the night, drinking much tea. The Sheng household’s kitchens had burned fires all night long.
Sheng Xiangqiao thought everyone would be resting by morning. She hadn’t expected father and son, after a sleepless night, to still have the strength to quarrel in the garden. Her cousin’s mood was clearly dark. He looked coldly at his false cousin, said nothing, and walked away, his long robe flowing.
Sheng Xiangqiao watched his back and sighed softly—what a pitiful child, forced to clean up his father’s messes since the age of five.
That morning, the Sheng household sent servants to the Chengs to retrieve Sheng Guiniang’s dowry. Compared to the Chengs’ wealth, her dowry was insignificant. But bringing it back symbolized that the marriage tie between the Shengs and Chengs was severed.
Cheng Tianfu also brought his attendants to escort his sister home.
Cheng Deqing emerged from the Cheng household with eyes swollen like peaches from crying. She had never managed affairs, unaware of the undercurrents. To her, it felt like she had gone to sleep only to wake and find her parents divorced, and herself leaving the Chengs. It was a thunderbolt, leaving the young girl overwhelmed.
By dinnertime, Sheng Xiangqiao finally learned that her aunt and uncle had divorced the night before. Her half‑sister Sheng Xianglan was the first to gasp, then scolded in shame and anger, as if her own parents had divorced: “Aunt, you are too foolish! How could you divorce like this? And even bring Cousin out with you!”
No wonder Sheng Xianglan was angry. The cousin she had once admired most had suddenly lost his worth—reduced to a young master living with a divorced mother outside the Cheng household. His birth and reputation now bore a stain, and with his exam deferred, his future prospects were uncertain. From any angle, he no longer seemed a suitable match.
Sheng Xuanhe, seeing her second daughter fussing so rudely, set down his chopsticks heavily and said: “Are matters of your elders for you to command and criticize? This divorce was overseen by your grandmother, settled by the elders of the Sheng and Qin families. Even if there is regret, it is not your place!”
Sheng Xuanhe felt her daughter had a point. Was his younger sister’s situation truly so dire? And since his sister had done no wrong, wasn’t this divorce a bitter loss? He dared not call her mother muddle-headed, but his words carried faint dissatisfaction.
Sheng Guiniang, sitting nearby, kept her head down over her meal. Hearing her niece’s words, she lost all appetite. By nature indecisive, she had first concealed her husband’s disgrace by allowing him to take a co-wife, then returned to her natal home and, under her mother’s persuasion, agreed to divorce. Now, hearing her niece, she could not help but feel heated regret—was the divorce too hasty?
At that moment, Cheng Deqing spoke up: “What is there to regret? When I left, my aunt was already busy buying red cloth and lanterns. Once the old is sent away, the Chengs will welcome the new. Why cling on? Should my mother weep day after day instead?”
Having learned from her brother the reasons behind their mother’s divorce, Cheng Deqing was even more resolute than Sheng Guiniang, believing Madam Qin had done right. Otherwise, once that Tian widow entered the household, who knew how many children she might bear? Wouldn’t her brother’s and her inheritance be divided? Better to settle accounts now, while the Chengs were at fault, and separate cleanly. The Cheng family’s gate was nothing to boast of in the capital, save for its stench of money. In her eyes, her mother’s natal family’s standing was far higher.
Cheng Tianfu said nothing, only quietly serving his mother and sister their favorite dishes. The Sheng family’s frugality showed clearly at the table—the slivers of meat in the stir-fry were cut so fine that one had to pick diligently to taste them.
Sheng Xiangqiao, mindful of being an outsider, kept silent throughout the meal. Only afterward, as they walked through the hall, she whispered to her cousin: “Since Aunt has returned home, and you and your sister are now lodging here, shouldn’t you contribute some money for meals?”
Seeing her fourth cousin cast her a cold sideways glance, Sheng Xiangqiao pressed on: “We’re all family. If you hand over money, it feels distant. Better that you buy some meat, eggs, chickens, and ducks, pile them in the kitchen, and let the cook prepare them.”
She had heard that Fourth Cousin Cheng had received quite a generous share of wealth; setting aside some money for meat each month would be no problem. But the Sheng family was frugal to the extreme—if he handed over cash for meals, it would surely be economized away. Better to buy fresh meat and produce directly; if not cooked, it would spoil.
After saying this, she saw her cousin still glaring coldly at her. Without a blush or a skipped heartbeat, she added: “Ning Yan says I’m too thin, that I don’t look quite right. But if I eat only vegetables every day, how could I ever put on flesh. Cousin, isn’t that reasonable?”
Cheng Tianfu said nothing, simply turned and walked away.
Yet the next day at noon, when Sheng Xiangqiao found a dish of pig’s trotters braised in yellow wine on the table, she knew her cousin had listened after all.
Nibbling the soft, glutinous trotters, with a side of savory braised fish, Sheng Xiangqiao thought to herself—her cousin lodging at the Sheng household was really not bad at all!
A Sheng daughter’s divorce was no small matter. In the following days, Madam Bai tactfully kept Sheng Guiniang and her children company, and without seeming to pry, learned that although the siblings no longer lived under Cheng family discipline, they had been given a substantial share of the estate. Both brother and sister were well provided for!
At once, Sheng Xianglan’s frustration eased.
Sheng Xiangqiao did not join Madam Bai and her daughters in their socializing. She knew her aunt and cousin did not favor her, so she avoided seeking awkward company. Moreover, Madam Qin had engaged a female tutor who was on her way to the capital. Though not yet arrived, she had sent through an old pupil a scroll of practice questions, saying she would test them upon arrival.
Opening it, Sheng Xiangqiao was startled. The scroll was not the moral precepts she had expected, but a reading list from *The Mirror of Conduct*.
The passages she was to memorize were all maxims of self-preservation and restraint: “Flexibility is wisdom, restraint is intelligence; endurance is essential, generosity brings success.”
Sheng Xiangqiao was no longer the sensitive, self-doubting young lady she once had been. Reading the tutor’s selections, she immediately understood they must be Madam Qin’s intention—her concern that Sheng Xiangqiao, once married into the Prince’s household, might fail to grasp proper limits and offend others unknowingly.
Madam Qin’s painstaking effort in hiring a renowned teacher was not to mold a virtuous daughter-in-law for the Prince’s family, but to ensure her granddaughter could protect herself wisely.
Though she knew all this care was meant for Madam Qin’s own bloodline, Sheng Xiangqiao still felt moved. It had been so long since anyone had thought of her in such a way. With the reading list in hand, she needed to fetch the books from her cousin’s study.
After breakfast that day, she set out with Ning Yan and a few maids toward the study, just as her cousin and the heir apparent came walking in from outside. The two tall young men side by side were dazzling to behold.
The heir had only recently learned of the Cheng family’s affairs.
The scandal between the Shengs and Chengs could not be kept secret; word had spread noisily through the capital. Prince Cining himself had praised Madam Sheng’s integrity, saying she would rather divorce than share a household with a Tian woman.
Though the Sheng and Cheng families had tried to settle matters behind closed doors, the clan elders’ tongues were not tight. The details of that night became fodder for dinner-table gossip across the city.
And who did not know Madam Qi’s temper?
The Chengs had truly overreached—a mere minor official in the Ministry of Revenue, yet daring to take a co-wife? Relying on ancestral merit and a few coins, they had lost all sense.
Still, the Shengs were too honest and upright. They had yielded the place to the Tian daughter, plainly to spare the Empress embarrassment. Better their own daughter suffer than cause a scene before His Majesty.