Madam Zhao snorted coldly: “You actually believe her nonsense? Our Zhou family already has a daughter‑in‑law who knows no proper rules—do you think she would choose a good match for you? She would only pick some coarse, foolish girl who won’t compete with her for attention! Madam Liu is my close friend. She has long regretted not helping our family back then. By rights, even as a widow, Yin Xuefang—with her family’s wealth and her beauty and virtue—could easily be remarried as a principal wife. Yet she admires you so deeply that she is willing to enter our Zhou family as a concubine. Shouldn’t you feel proud?”
Hearing this, Zhou Sui’an’s resentment eased somewhat. Especially when he recalled Yin Xuefang’s vow, after their reunion, that she would marry no one but him. His heart swelled with a trace of vanity.
But having spoken harshly earlier, he could not easily retract his words: “I thought you would inform Linlang first, so I invited the Yin family. Who knew you would keep her in the dark? She has already declared she will not allow it… I think we should forget it.”
Madam Zhao snorted again. She did not tell her son that she had deliberately concealed her plan from Chu Linlang. She knew her daughter‑in‑law’s cunning nature. If Linlang had known early that she intended to bring in a learned concubine superior to her, she would surely have schemed against it. Madam Zhao’s plan was to wait until the Yin family was formally entered into the clan register, then reveal it to Chu Linlang, when it would be too late to oppose.
But her daughter had let slip the secret at the dinner table, and Chu Linlang discovered it early. In one night, her son had changed his mind.
This defeat in her long rivalry with Chu Linlang left Madam Zhao even more frustrated.
In the past, she had tolerated Chu Linlang’s jealousy, since the Zhou family’s finances were improving. But now her son was a magistrate, no longer a fallen scholar. How could a woman like Chu Linlang—unlettered, mercantile—be worthy?
Seeing Chu Linlang obstruct her, Madam Zhao resolved firmly: Yin Xuefang must enter the family. She wanted a cultured concubine to bear children, raise them with learning, and counterbalance Chu Linlang’s influence, lest her son remain ensnared by a salt‑merchant’s daughter.
Zhou Sui’an, hearing that Yin Xuefang could have been remarried as a principal wife but chose instead to be his concubine out of devotion, softened further. Seeing his mother’s persistence, he said no more and fled the house like a hunted dog.
Official Zhou had once found his duties burdensome, longing to return home for peace. But now he realized that compared to household strife, official work was easier. He resolved to stay at the office for several days, leaving his mother and wife to quarrel as they pleased. Whatever the outcome, he would accept it.
After sending her son away, Madam Zhao brooded, then decided to summon Chu Linlang for a lecture. How could a barren woman dare oppose her husband taking a concubine?
But when she sent a servant, she learned that Chu Linlang had gone out early with Yin Xuefang to shop and drink tea.
Alarmed, Madam Zhao thought: This is trouble—what scheme is Chu Linlang plotting now?
In truth, she wronged her daughter‑in‑law. Chu Linlang had risen early to deliver fashionable cloth samples from the capital to the prefect’s wife, and to inquire about purchasing a wine shop. At the gate, she happened upon Yin Xuefang, who had been waiting. The young lady asked to accompany her, and Chu Linlang could not refuse.
They were joined by Yuan’er, the little girl raised under Chu Linlang’s care. Once a frail, skeletal child, Yuan’er was now plump and fair, her bright eyes increasingly resembling Chu Linlang’s. The Zhou family claimed her as Chu Linlang’s own daughter, so Yin Xuefang believed it.
In the carriage, Yin Xuefang gave Yuan’er an orange. The child peeled it and offered half to Chu Linlang first. Yin Xuefang praised warmly: “Elder sister has raised such a filial daughter—truly delightful.”
Chu Linlang smiled, stroking the girl’s hair. She remembered how Yuan’er had once been filthy, lice‑ridden, biting strangers in fear. Only after Chu Linlang bathed her, braided her hair, and gave her a white kitten did she begin to trust.
Chu Linlang recalled returning from a trip to find a moldy pig’s trotter hidden in her drawer—the child had saved her own portion after ancestral rites, hoping to give it to Chu Linlang. When she saw it spoiled, she had wept bitterly. Chu Linlang understood. She herself had longed for kindness as a child, but her parents were weak and cold, her siblings disdainful. She had vowed that if anyone treated her well, she would repay with all her heart. That vow had only been fulfilled when she married Zhou Sui’an.
Though Yuan’er was not her blood, Chu Linlang cared for her more than Zhou Sui’an did. She did not reveal the truth to Yin Xuefang, but only smiled.
Later, while shopping, Yin Xuefang wished to buy Yuan’er fine clothes and ornaments, but Chu Linlang refused. The girl was already enrolled in a girls’ academy at six, where the teacher forbade ostentation. Clean and proper was enough.
Yin Xuefang was astonished. Girls’ academies were rare and costly, beyond the reach of ordinary families. Even her own family could not afford it; she had only learned poetry thanks to her noble cousin. That the Zhou family invested so much in a daughter impressed her deeply.
Her decision to accompany Chu Linlang had purpose. At dinner the previous night, she had realized that Zhou Sui’an valued not his mother’s will, but his wife’s acceptance. If Chu Linlang opposed her, the marriage might falter. She had suffered in her first marriage, abused by a cruel family. Zhou Sui’an, refined and scholarly, had been her childhood admiration. Their reunion felt like fate, rekindling her affection.
Seeing the Zhou household orderly and prosperous, she grew more determined to enter it. Though she would be a concubine, she would be a favored one. Zhou Sui’an’s career was bright, the Zhou and Yin families were connected, and the principal wife was of low birth with no sons. If she bore a son, he would be the sole heir. Far better than marrying into an unknown family as a second wife, burdened with stepchildren.
She only needed to reassure Chu Linlang that she was no schemer, that she would honor her as an elder sister, and that she would devote herself to harmony and the family’s future.
Expecting coldness, she had prepared explanations. But Chu Linlang spoke gently, asking about her relatives, leaving Yin Xuefang at a loss.
That morning, Chu Linlang had already gathered information from her sister‑in‑law. Now she subtly probed Yin Xuefang’s family background, then invited her to accompany her to the prefect’s wife.
During tea, Chu Linlang chatted with the prefect’s wife about Yin Xuefang’s uncle in the capital and the officials in his bureau. Yin Xuefang, unfamiliar with such matters, could only answer simply, enduring politely.
After only a short while, Chu Linlang rose to take her leave, bringing Miss Yin along to the wine shop she intended to purchase, to sample the dishes.
Earlier, because of her mother and Madam Zhao’s words, Yin Xuefang had harbored prejudice against this daughter‑in‑law of salt‑merchant birth. She secretly despised her, thinking that Zhou Sui’an, in his youth, had been bewitched by beauty and married beneath him, taking a lowly merchant’s illegitimate daughter.
But as she followed Chu Linlang, she saw her converse with the prefect’s wife with ease and intimacy, and observed her graceful manners, her lively wit. Compared to her own sheltered life, Yin Xuefang felt herself pale in contrast.
Later, overhearing casual talk with maids and servants, she learned that Chu Linlang managed two shops under her own name—not dowry properties, but businesses she had built after marriage. Yin Xuefang was astonished. Her own father was but a minor clerk, their family comfortable but not wealthy. As a proper young lady, she realized she was not as prosperous as this salt‑merchant’s daughter.
She had thought Chu Linlang’s rise was only due to marrying into the Zhou family. But now she saw that Chu Linlang was close with her husband’s superiors’ wives, like sisters, and was skilled in business, supporting the household. Such a capable wife was every man’s dream. Compared to these advantages, her humble origins seemed irrelevant.
At first, Yin Xuefang believed herself far superior to Chu Linlang and that marriage into the Zhou family would be easy if Chu Linlang did not oppose. Yet after spending time with her, she grew increasingly uneasy, fearing things would not go as smoothly as her mother and Madam Zhao imagined.
Upstairs at the wine shop, after ordering dishes, Yin Xuefang could no longer hold back. She softly explained the circumstances of her earlier outing with Zhou Sui’an—boating and composing poetry—hoping the principal wife would not misunderstand or resent her.
Chu Linlang listened to her timid, self‑effacing words, understanding that Yin Xuefang only wished for her tolerance, so that she would not obstruct the elders’ decision.
Chu Linlang did not expect Zhou Sui’an to clean up the mess. She guessed that his official duties would suddenly become “busy,” and he would avoid coming home for several days.
Looking at Yin Xuefang’s trembling, delicate figure, Chu Linlang had no patience for circling words. She picked up her chopsticks and said bluntly:
“Miss Yin, you should know I am of illegitimate birth. I grew up watching my mother beg for survival. I truly do not understand—why would you forsake the place of principal wife, only to run eagerly to be a concubine?”
Yin Xuefang had seen her earlier at the prefect’s wife’s tea, gentle and flattering. She never expected that in private, Chu Linlang would drop even the pretense of virtue and speak so directly, almost mocking.
Her face turned pale, tears welled, and she looked at Chu Linlang, voice trembling: “I truly admire both elder brother and elder sister’s character. I wish only to serve you both. Why will you not accept me?”
Chu Linlang had not meant to mock. She genuinely did not understand Yin Xuefang’s thinking and spoke from the heart. Yet her words brought Yin Xuefang to tears, as if she were cruelly blocking another’s path.
At that moment, Chu Linlang had no mood to deal with her husband’s childhood companion because as she turned to glance out the window, she suddenly caught sight of a tall figure at the street corner opposite.
The man was strikingly handsome, his stature commanding, drawing the gaze of passersby. It was none other than the Sixth Prince’s tutor—Situ Sheng!