Nanny Zhao recognized the youth—he was the heir’s closest friend, and more importantly, the young man favored by Prince Cining. Her stern face softened into a smile as she dropped the cane. “Fourth Young Master Cheng, what brings you here?”
Cheng Tianfu entered, hand resting on his sword. “I am staying with my maternal grandmother for a time, and at the heir’s request, I came to see… how Cousin Sheng fares.”
Years ago, Cheng Peinian had been the most handsome man in the capital, admired by countless maidens. Now his only son had surpassed him—taller, more striking, with an air even more commanding than his gentle father. Though still young, he already radiated a forceful presence.
Even Nanny Zhao, hardened by years of service, felt unsettled under his dark, penetrating gaze, her words loosening. “Since the heir entrusted you, it is right that you should come. But Fourth Young Master, you do not know how unruly this girl is. Without strict discipline, she cannot be taught.”
Cheng Tianfu lowered his eyes to the girl who kept her head bowed. “Nanny, has no one told you? If you want her to resemble the real one, you need not burden her with endless rules. You need only let her temper grow bold.”
Nanny Zhao blinked, turning toward Ning Yan.
Ning Yan, still shaken by the grisly sight of severed heads, usually kept silent before Nanny Zhao’s harshness. But now, pressed by Cheng Tianfu’s words, she spoke: “Fourth Young Master is right. My lady was spoiled by the late Madam. Though she learned music, chess, and dance, none of it was polished. She even drove away three governesses with her temper.”
Nanny Zhao had only seen Miss Sheng at tea gatherings, never knowing her true behavior at home. Hearing this, she frowned. “No wonder she dared such scandalous deeds…”
But then she caught Cheng Tianfu’s cold glance and quickly bit back her words.
He stepped forward, picked up the discarded cane, and examined it. “From the moment she entered the Sheng household, there is only one Sheng Xiangqiao. If you want her to be convincing, you must treat her as real. Beatings will only make her timid, unfit to face the world. From now on, if anyone strikes her, they will be punished according to household law.”
His tone was calm, but the cane snapped into pieces in his hands, revealing strength far beyond that of a frail scholar.
Nanny Zhao’s heart jolted. She remembered his reckless deeds as a child and knew he meant what he said. Though she was a veteran of the princely household, she now ate the Sheng family’s rice and could not afford to offend him. She forced a smile and nodded repeatedly.
Tianfu then turned to the girl, still bowing her head. “The Sheng garden has just been planted with green chrysanthemums. Would Cousin care to join me for a stroll?”
Following Nanny Zhao’s earlier lessons, the girl replied timidly: “The paths are unfamiliar. I must ask Fourth Young Master to lead the way.”
It was a bright, sunny day, and walking with her cousin in the garden was perfectly natural. Cheng Tianfu led ahead, the girl following three steps behind, head lowered. Servants and maids trailed at a distance under Nanny Zhao’s watch.
At the lotus pond, Cheng Tianfu paused, gazing at the fading leaves. After a moment of silence, he turned to her. “If you have questions, ask them freely.”
The girl looked at the elegant youth before her, recalling vividly the day she had first seen him—on a country road, astride his horse, entangled in Wang Qiao’s schemes.
Though young, she had endured much hardship, her mind sharp and perceptive. Remembering his startled expression when he first saw her, she now understood everything. So it turns out everything began with that fainting spell under the sun—her fall was the root of all misfortune.
When the youth spoke, Sheng Xiangqiao thought for a moment and whispered: “Will I… one day end up like the Xue couple, with my head locked inside a chest?”
Though twelve years old, she was so thin she looked like a bean sprout, unable to fill her clothes, fragile as if the wind might topple her. To have such a girl impersonate the spoiled fourteen‑year‑old heiress Sheng Xiangqiao was indeed a heavy burden.
Cheng Tianfu had heard rumors of the Prince’s ruthless methods, but only now realized that the household had used the severed heads of the Xue couple to terrify this child. He looked at her—delicate as grass—and fell silent, not answering. He did not approve of such bloody tactics, yet he himself had set the chain of events in motion. Had he not told his uncle that this girl resembled his cousin, the Xue family would not have met such a fate. He would not pretend to be a saint before her; even if time turned back, he would have made the same choice.
Cheng Tianfu was fiercely protective of his kin. With the Shengs and Chengs caught between imperial power and princely ambition, they walked on thin ice. For the sake of his mother and grandmother’s family, there was nothing he would not do.
But when he met the girl’s clear gaze, the cold words on his lips softened. After a pause, he said: “If you ignore Nanny Zhao and forget what you must do, the outcome will not be good.”
The girl watched the fish in the pond and murmured: “Yet I feel that if I obey her, my life will be even shorter…”
Cheng Tianfu had come today because his uncle complained the girl could not be taught, perhaps was unfit for the role. But hearing her now, he realized it was not that she could not—it was that she would not.
He raised his brows slightly. “Then whose guidance do you think will keep you alive?”
She turned, her eyes bright as autumn water, fixed on him. Softly she said: “What do you think I should do, so that both sides are satisfied? I was stolen away when I was small. I only want to live, and when I grow up, to find my mother again…”
No longer the ragged child of the countryside, her washed face shone with spirit, though her eyes carried a maturity far beyond her years.
Cheng Tianfu could not help but wonder what hardships she had endured. Though humble, her gaze held the vitality of wild grass. Still, he spoke coolly: “You think me soft‑hearted, easy to sway, and so you try to draw words from me?”
The girl smiled faintly, biting her lips, and answered with sincerity: “I think you understand Sheng Xiangqiao better than Nanny Zhao. Ning Yan is too frightened to teach me anything. You, as my cousin, should help me. After all, I am about to face the Emperor. You and the Sheng family are kin, in the same boat, are you not?”
Cheng Tianfu narrowed his eyes. He had thought she was pleading for help to escape, but now it sounded like a quiet threat—just like the tricks she had played on the country road.
“You… are you threatening me?”
Had it been the real Sheng Xiangqiao, she would have been struck dumb with fear. No one in the Sheng or Cheng households had ever dared to threaten Fourth Young Master Cheng.
The girl clearly did not understand Cheng Tianfu’s temperament. She spoke softly: “You said yourself—only if I am treated as real will I seem real. Then, you are my cousin, you wouldn’t just stand by and ignore me, would you?”
Cheng Tianfu gave a cold laugh. His first impression had been right—she was a sly little village girl. Yet her words were not without truth. Following Nanny Zhao’s methods, this child could never pass the tests of Tian Peirong or the Empress.
He lowered his gaze, thought for a moment, and asked: “Have you ever seen southern opera?”
The girl quickly nodded. “I was once sold to a troupe for a few days. I watched them practice but the master thought me clumsy and used me to settle debts.”
Cheng Tianfu replied: “From now on, after lunch each day, you may walk in the garden. I will wait in the pavilion.”
The girl let out a slow breath of relief, bowed deeply, and said: “Thank you, cousin, for your great kindness… But since I am here in the Sheng household to serve, should I not also receive monthly pay?”
This time, Cheng Tianfu truly smiled. So even two severed heads had not frightened away her love of money. Of course—this was the same girl who had once thrown herself in front of a horse to extort compensation. To ask about wages only now was almost modest.
Feeling he had already spent too much time on her, he said: “Sheng family daughters all receive monthly allowances for rouge and powder. If you fulfill your duties, your father will give you yours.”
“How much?” she pressed.
Cheng Tianfu frowned, uncertain. “Perhaps three taels.”
The Shengs, unlike the merchant Chengs, prized frugality. His cousins received only two taels a month, with extra expenses carefully recorded to prevent them from wasting money in brothels. But his uncle doted on his daughter, so perhaps she would be given more.
The girl’s eyes drooped in disappointment. “Such a grand household, with gardens and courtyards so fine—only that little? I like to buy snacks and clothes. That would not be enough…”
Cheng Tianfu laughed coldly. She was bargaining again. But considering her situation and the likelihood that her good days might not last long, he chose not to argue.
“Whatever the Shengs give you, I will add five taels each month.”
She counted on her fingers, finally satisfied, and bowed her head. “If there is nothing else, I will return to my lessons. I hear I must attend the palace banquet, so I must study my bows carefully. Cousin, we will meet tomorrow!”
Without waiting for his reply, she turned and walked away along the garden path.
Nanny Zhao noticed that after her time in the garden with Fourth Young Master, the girl seemed transformed—no longer stubborn and dull, but suddenly receptive. Her posture, her way of serving tea, even her manner of sipping—all began to resemble true refinement.
Even Ning Yan had to admit: when this little girl applied herself, her bearing was more graceful than the real young lady’s had ever been.