When Xia He was a child, she had followed her mother to work at the Chu household, so she naturally remembered: “You mean that madwoman? My mother even chatted with her. Don’t be fooled by her madness—when she wasn’t having an episode, she spoke gently, with the bearing of a noble lady, and she was quite beautiful. She said her husband was a high official at court, ennobled as some kind of marquis. But out of jealousy, when he took a concubine, she actually drew a sword and wounded him. Because it was a family scandal, her husband’s clan sent her away to Jiangkou. The woman brooded over her grief, and overnight she went mad.”
Chu Linlang already knew some of this, but she asked again: “Then… what post did that madwoman’s husband hold at court?”
Xia He thought for a moment, then shook her head: “That I don’t know. She only said that on her wedding day, the bridal procession stretched ten li, lavish and grand. He must have been a very high-ranking official. Madam, why do you suddenly ask about her?”
Chu Linlang could not say that she suspected she had met the madwoman’s son—who was now the Sixth Prince’s tutor. After all, the two matters seemed entirely unrelated. She had only stumbled upon a subtle connection.
Just then, Zhou Sui’an returned from inspecting the riverworks. Though his duties had been tiring these days, his spirits were high. Back in Lianzhou, he had been unable to secure proper assignments and had buried himself in studying hydraulics. Who would have thought that here in Jizhou, he would achieve such success?
In his good mood, he could not help but think of his wife. Ever since Madam Hu had entered the household, his mother had sent people daily to watch him, forbidding him from visiting Chu Linlang’s chambers. In Lianzhou, he had scarcely spent nights with her.
Later, after moving to Jizhou, he hardly stayed in Madam Hu’s rooms either, being busy outside all day.
At last, he returned late this evening. His mother and her attendants were already asleep, so no one could force him to fulfill his duty of producing heirs. He thought to spend the night with Chu Linlang instead.
But Chu Linlang had no mind to entertain him. She only said: “I’ve already had hot water sent to Madam Hu’s room. You’ve been busy all day and must be tired—better to go rest there early.”
Zhou Sui’an’s face fell at once.
Affection between husband and wife requires spontaneity and a touch of serendipity. But Madam Hu had been forced upon him by his mother, like a field to be plowed under duress. How could there be any tender intimacy?
And now, so late at night, Chu Linlang was actually driving him off to “plow the fields,” as though he were some ox with endless strength?
Looking at her face, Zhou Sui’an suddenly realized he could not remember the last time she had smiled sweetly at him. Thinking of this, he sat stubbornly on the bed and said petulantly: “I won’t go. I’ll sleep here with you!”
Chu Linlang sighed, took her quilt, and started to leave—apparently, she would also taste the bitterness of sleeping in the study tonight.
But after only a few steps, Zhou Sui’an grabbed her hand: “Chu Linlang, what do you mean! When I took a concubine, it was with your consent!”
If he still could not see that his wife was deliberately cold to him, then he truly was as foolish as a goose.
Chu Linlang looked up at her husband’s boyish, sulky face, her heart a tangle of emotions. She pressed her lips together, then finally spoke her true feelings: “The one who permitted you to take a concubine was the daughter-in-law of the Zhou family, the virtuous wife of the Magistrate—not Linlang herself…”
The words were awkward, and Zhou Sui’an was baffled. What difference was there? She was the Zhou family’s daughter-in-law, his wife!
He protested, aggrieved: “If you didn’t want it, why didn’t you tell Mother at the time? Now, Madam Hu has been here so long, and you put all the blame on me, without reason!”
Chu Linlang drew a deep breath. She wanted to say: Why should it have been her, and not him, to speak? He knew well the rumors outside that painted her as jealous and shrewish, and his mother’s discontent with her. If she had refused, he would have lost face among his colleagues. What standing did she have to oppose the concubine?
But it was late, and she was too weary to quarrel. The words turned on her tongue, then softened. She smiled faintly, coaxing him: “Enough, I was teasing you. You take everything so seriously. You know how closely Mother watches you. Madam Hu has been here so long, yet still has no child. If she learns you spent the night with me, she’ll think I’m deliberately keeping you from her, and tomorrow she’ll scold me again. If you care for me, then go quickly.”
Thus, with gentle persuasion, Chu Linlang finally sent Zhou Sui’an away.
Xia He, watching, sighed and could not help but advise her mistress, “Madam, by doing this, aren’t you only pushing the master further away?”
Chu Linlang said nothing. What troubled her most was not her husband’s absence from her chambers, but that mysterious man from her past—carrying secrets upon his back.
She had more or less figured it out now: most likely his father’s clan had taken him back, changed his identity, and given him a new name. After all, his mother’s scandal was a disgrace, and he must have deeply resented having a madwoman for a mother—one who had tried to stab her own husband.
If that was the case, then Situ Sheng was bold indeed, daring to deceive the throne and falsify his background. Well, let him change it as he pleased.
As for her, Chu Linlang had no intention of foolishly exposing another’s shameful past. Nor would she ever openly acknowledge him, risking being implicated in the crime of concealing the truth from the emperor.
With this settled, her heart felt a little calmer. She only wondered how long Lord Situ intended to remain here. Word was that he had been visiting the son of the injured gentleman these past few days, with no hurry to leave. Was his post at the Ministry of Personnel truly so leisurely?
Meanwhile, Zhou Sui’an, after hearing Chu Linlang’s half-truths, finally realized the grievances his virtuous wife had suffered under his mother’s watch. Taking advantage of a break in the riverworks project, he requested a few days’ leave to accompany Chu Linlang around Jizhou—shopping for household goods, sampling local snacks, and easing her mood.
As the couple strolled through the streets, Second Miss Xie happened to be seated in a teahouse above, watching this harmony between husband and wife.
Seeing Zhou Sui’an at a food stall, gently holding a piece of rice cake to his wife’s lips, Xie Youran sneered: “Sister, the Sixth Prince truly has a talent for choosing loyal men. He even lets his wife act as his superior! I wonder which noble family this Madam Zhou comes from, to be treated with such tender care?”
Princess Consort Xie followed her gaze, realized who her sister meant, and smiled: “Lord Zhou is indeed famous for loving his wife. But what does Madam Chu’s background matter? Her family was a salt merchant family, and she was a concubine-born daughter; her status was rather low. Yet when a couple is truly affectionate, birth hardly matters.”
Xie Youran was surprised. She had not expected the clever, polished Madam Chu to come from such humble origins. Looking again at Zhou Sui’an, now holding an oil-paper umbrella to shield his wife from the sun, she found him even more refined and gentle. Curiosity stirred: “But wait—I’ve heard other ladies speak of him. If he loves his wife so much, why did he take a concubine? Madam Chu is still in her prime, beautiful and elegant. Surely he hasn’t grown tired of her already?”
Princess Consort Xie, recalling what she had heard from Lord Zhou’s mother and piecing it together with Chu Linlang’s vague words, guessed the truth: “No matter how deep the affection, if there is no legitimate heir, what can be done? That concubine was chosen by the Zhou matriarch. As a son, could he defy his mother?”
By then, the couple below had walked out of sight. Xie Youran, curiosity satisfied, idly poked at the jujube cake on her plate.
Princess Consort Xie remembered her purpose in bringing her sister out—to ease her mood—and gently advised: “Father only wishes the best for you. After careful consideration, he chose the Wang family. Censor Wang is upright, a pillar of integrity, and his third son is well-read, much like his father. A true gentleman should not be judged by looks alone. Young Master Wang has already seen you in secret and fallen in love at first sight. Your birth charts match perfectly—it is a heaven-sent union. If you marry into such a family, Father and Mother will be at peace.”
She had not finished when Xie Youran’s face darkened. She slammed her teacup onto the table: “Careful selection? Any pond is full of croaking toads! For my good? I think Father only wants to marry me off quickly, to rid himself of me—the daughter who brings misfortune to parents and kin alike!”
She realized then why her mother had brought her to Jizhou under the pretense of visiting relatives—it was to have her sister persuade her to marry Wang the Toad. After all, in this household, only her sister’s words could reach her.
Her eyes grew wet with anger: “Heaven-sent union, nonsense! Just because of some fortune-teller’s words, Father and Mother abandoned me in the countryside, leaving only you to visit me now and then, so I’d know I still had kin in this world. If they truly didn’t care, then let them not care at all! Why now pretend to be loving parents, using me as a bargaining chip?”
Princess Consort Xie was exasperated at her sister’s temper. She had brought her out precisely to prevent her from making a scene at home and embarrassing the newlywed Sixth Prince. She squeezed Xie Youran’s hand, urging her to lower her voice. Though they were in a private room, the walls were thin.
“What nonsense you speak! What do you mean by being used? If Father were such a schemer, would he have married me to the unfavored Sixth Prince? At the time, all the noble ladies of the capital avoided this match, lining up instead for the Fourth Prince. Father believed the Sixth Prince to be gentle and kind, worth marrying. Parents always act for their children’s sake—why can’t you understand?”
But Xie Youran would not listen. She said coldly: “I will not marry! If Father insists on a scholar, then Situ Sheng would be better. His career may be modest, but he has served as tutor to His Highness, and his learning and appearance are not lacking!”
Princess Consort Xie blushed at her sister’s boldness, scolding in a low voice: “You may admire him, but he must also agree! Do you think I haven’t already humbled myself to speak on your behalf? He used his mourning as an excuse—that was a gentle refusal.”
Princess Consort Xie had not spoken her thoughts aloud: if Situ Sheng truly favored her younger sister, how could he have leapt from the boat in full view of everyone? That was practically a declaration of refusal—an oath to cut ties with the Xie family’s daughter.
Fortunately, this was the remote countryside of Jizhou, far from the capital. Situ, as the Sixth Prince’s tutor, was upright and discreet; he would never spread gossip about her sister. Otherwise, if word reached the capital, even the toad-faced Young Master Wang might scorn her as improper.
Xie Youran had suffered repeated rebuffs from Situ Sheng in recent days—how could she not understand his meaning?
She had grown up apart from her parents, raised by maternal relatives. Though pampered, she was still a guest under another’s roof, and so her temperament was sensitive. Thus, when Situ Sheng treated her coldly, no matter how much she liked him, she would not shamelessly persist. Yet hearing her elder sister bluntly say that a mere impoverished scholar-official looked down on her wounded her pride.
She sprang up: “In any case, tell Mother—if she keeps pressing me, I’ll cut my hair and become a nun, so they won’t have to see this ill-starred daughter every day!”
With that, she led her maids out of the teahouse without looking back.
The street outside was crowded, carriages unable to pass. Xie Youran walked forward with her attendants, buying small things to ease her mood. But after being jostled by the crowd, when it came time to pay, the servant’s face paled—her purse had been stolen.
Xie Youran’s face collapsed entirely. Just as she scolded the servant for incompetence, a large hand reached out, paying the bill on her behalf. Turning, she saw Lord Zhou, elegant in scholar’s robes and white scarf, smiling as he bowed politely.
It turned out that Chu Linlang and Zhou Sui’an had forgotten a few purchases and returned, just in time to witness Xie Youran berating her servant.
Chu Linlang immediately handed silver to Dongxue, instructing Zhou Sui’an to step forward and resolve the matter. She had done so deliberately, to let her husband gain face before the Sixth Prince’s in-laws. As for herself, she sensed that Miss Xie disliked her—perhaps because she had once witnessed her at the docks—and so she kept her distance.
Indeed, Xie Youran was ungrateful. She thanked Zhou Sui’an perfunctorily, then glanced coldly at Chu Linlang across the street, snorted, and swept away.
When Zhou Sui’an returned, he complained: “How could Lord Xie raise such an arrogant daughter? Her manners are lacking!”
Chu Linlang did not answer. She simply counted the pastries she had bought and handed them to Zhou Sui’an’s servant: “Tomorrow, when you go to the riverworks, don’t forget to bring these for your colleagues. The officials repairing the river are all elderly; eating cold food every day is not good. These chestnut cakes are gentle on the stomach.”
Zhou Sui’an’s work was going well. Among the officials in Jizhou, he had the most practical experience. Whenever he gave orders or arranged manpower, everyone trusted him.
In such a harmonious environment, his social skills grew. He became more approachable, gladly using pastries to smooth relations.
Chu Linlang watched her husband, no longer a rash youth, his work taking shape. She finally breathed a sigh of relief. She recalled Situ Sheng’s earlier divination: he had said that if Zhou Sui’an shifted his position, his career would prosper. Unexpectedly, the prediction seemed almost prophetic. Was Jizhou truly blessed with auspicious feng shui? But soon she understood the real reason.
After Zhou Sui’an left, turmoil erupted again in Lianzhou.
Old cases, long buried, were suddenly exposed with ironclad evidence. Many of those implicated were the very victims of the recent chain murders. It seemed someone had moved faster than the killers, extracting testimony from the dead before they were slain. Their deaths only confirmed that a hidden hand was behind the corruption.
Fortunately, the wealthy gentleman gravely injured in Lianzhou had survived. He became the sole living witness. Though he had remained silent, his son—now an official in Jizhou—persuaded him to testify.
The Emperor was enraged. He dispatched imperial censors once more, their swords unsparing, striking directly at Prince Tai’s faction. This time, not only were many officials who had already been transferred out of Lianzhou arrested, but even Zhang Xian, a newly appointed official for two years, was implicated. It was said he was dragged down by his brother-in-law, exposed for a string of filthy deeds. The once-proud Commander of Lianzhou was beaten in public court. More accusations followed, revealing his seizure of commoners’ land. In the end, he was convicted of corruption and deceit, his property confiscated, his sons exiled, his womenfolk enslaved as government servants.
Madam Lin, who had tried to protect herself by distancing herself from him, had not even finished drafting a divorce letter before soldiers dragged her out by the hair and threw her onto a cart.
Even the cautious Prefect, though not of Prince Tai’s faction, was punished—demoted for incompetence and sent to a remote county.
Zhou Sui’an, though he had disliked Zhang Xian, broke into a cold sweat. So many officials with powerful backers had been imprisoned overnight, their families enslaved.
Had Chu Linlang not persuaded him to leave Lianzhou, he might have begged the Prefect to keep him there—and then he too would have been swept away.
A man without roots could never have survived such a storm.
The upheaval in Lianzhou finally taught Zhou Sui’an the peril of officialdom. He sighed deeply, no longer the brash, triumphant youth of recent days, but subdued and sober.
That night, he impatiently dismissed the maid who urged him to spend the night in the concubine’s quarters, insisting instead that Chu Linlang drink with him and talk, to ease the lingering fear and shock.
Yet Chu Linlang’s own heart was no less shaken than Zhou Sui’an’s. Others she could set aside, but she felt sorrow for Madam He, the Prefect’s wife.
Madam He had once said that at her age, she no longer hoped for perfect harmony between husband and wife—she only wished her husband might achieve something, so they could return to the capital sooner, allowing her to fulfill her filial duty to her mother. But now the Prefect had been demoted, sent to a remote backwater even poorer than Lianzhou, forced to start over. For a woman of such high spirit, how could she endure it?
Still, beyond her sighs, Chu Linlang knew she owed gratitude to one man: Lord Situ, the one who seemed to foresee the future. Only now did she fully understand the meaning of his earlier words—that Zhou Sui’an should seize the moment and shift his position.
What extraordinary talent did Zhou Sui’an possess that the Sixth Prince would remember him so fondly, even personally writing to summon him to Jizhou?
Surely it was Situ Sheng who had exerted effort, repaying the debt of gratitude for the time she had shielded him while he was wounded.
Thinking back, that quarrel in the rain-soaked tea shed had been her fault—her sharp tongue had offended him first.
Even if he was the son of her mad neighbor from childhood, even if they had clashed as children, the fact that he now supported her husband proved he was a man of broad-minded generosity.
And this purge of Lianzhou—could it truly have happened without Situ Sheng’s hand? Consider: the gravely injured gentleman who testified, his son just happened to serve under the Sixth Prince.
Someone had managed to gather evidence before the hidden hand could silence the victims. Clearly, great effort had been made to visit those men early.
Chu Linlang recalled the roster of officials she had once compiled and handed to Situ Sheng.
Which meant that when the Emperor rebuked the Sixth Prince and banished him to Jizhou, Situ Sheng must have acted under His Highness’s orders, seizing the moment when Prince Tai’s faction grew lax, laying the groundwork for that final, thunderous strike of irrefutable proof.
The struggle for power behind the scenes was far more terrifying than the scraps she had glimpsed. And how had Situ Sheng, a little-known tutor, managed to maneuver so calmly between princes and the Emperor, reaching the throne itself?
Chu Linlang sensed that he was far deeper and more unfathomable than she had imagined. Such a calculating man must also be one who repaid slights bitterly. Childhood quarrels were nothing, but she had once mocked him for his supposed infirmity—truly reckless of her. She realized she must repair her precarious relationship with Lord Situ. As for their shared past, since he did not mention it, she would pretend not to recognize it.
Thus resolved, Chu Linlang decided how she would treat him henceforth. When she next met Situ Sheng at the Sixth Prince’s residence, before his cold gaze could fall upon her, she greeted him brightly: “Lord Situ, it has been so long! My husband has spoken of you often these past days, wishing to invite you to our home for wine.”
Situ Sheng had just dismounted when he saw Madam Chu, who had parted from him in anger before, now smiling sweetly and inviting him to drink.
Madam Chu perhaps did not realize that when she sought favor, her smile was like watered wine—false and thin.
Though inwardly disdainful, Lord Situ replied coolly: “Oh? When shall I come?”
Ah—Chu Linlang had spoken out of habit, forgetting that this man did not understand polite words. So she answered directly: “No day like today. If it suits you, come tomorrow. We’ve just bought two fat chickens—I’ll have the cook prepare beggar’s chicken for you.”
At that moment, a hearty laugh rang out: “With such fine dishes, why not invite me as well?”
The Sixth Prince had appeared at the doorway.
Chu Linlang welcomed him with another smile: “If Your Highness would join us, it would be our greatest honor. Only, two chickens will not suffice—I’ll have to catch a river dragon tonight to stew for you!”
Her quick wit made the Prince laugh aloud, so much that the Princess Consort behind him asked what amused him.
Thus, when the banquet at the Zhou household was held, four honored guests arrived: Situ Sheng, the Sixth Prince, the Princess Consort, and her sister Xie Youran.
Never before had the Zhou family’s threshold been crossed by imperial kin.
Madam Zhao was flustered, losing all her usual severity toward her daughter-in-law. In front of nobles, she was all smiles, leaving Chu Linlang to arrange the feast and entertain the guests.
At the table, the Sixth Prince Liu Ling marveled: “Madam Chu, your cook is remarkable—so many dishes I have never seen before!”
Zhou Sui’an, seated beside him, explained with a smile: “These are all rustic specialties from my wife’s hometown of Jiangkou. She thought Your Highness might not have tasted such humble fare, so she dared to present them. Please forgive the roughness.”
After preparing several of her best dishes, Chu Linlang washed her hands and sat beside the Princess Consort. As she reached for food, she suddenly noticed a maid setting down a dish of braised preserved fish—right before Situ Sheng.