The Old Madam paused, then recalled another matter: “I have already spoken with your Third Aunt. The Liu family is too reckless in their dealings. Our Duke’s mansion must never be dragged into such muddy waters.”
She herself had no objection to the Liu family’s daughter. Until recently, aside from her eldest grandson, she had paid little attention to the marriages of the younger generation, trusting their parents to manage.
But after Xiao Mo mentioned that Liu Qingwan’s father seemed to be secretly associating with a prince, she began to take notice. Since her third daughter‑in‑law was considering strengthening ties with the Liu family, she felt compelled to warn them.
Xiao Mo acknowledged softly, then spoke with her a while longer before leaving.
Thinking of her third son, the Old Madam sighed.
The Xiao family’s three branches: the eldest inherited the title and must guard the frontier. His children were capable—the eldest grandson had returned to take command of the Imperial Guards, proving his own merit. With the emperor’s favor on the eldest branch, the second and third would not be given substantial posts.
The second branch, though born of a concubine, was steady. Xiao Xiaoping held a minor seventh‑rank position in the Garrison Office, living quietly.
The third son, a legitimate younger son, could not inherit. From childhood, the Old Madam had been lenient with him, hoping he would simply live peacefully under the mansion’s protection. But he was ambitious.
She frowned, uncertain whether he knew of the Liu family’s dealings.
So she asked her maid: “Has Xiaolian not returned yet?”
Xiao Xiaolian, the third son, currently served in the Ministry of Revenue as a *Geishizhong* (a seventh‑rank post). Though low in rank, such positions demanded diligence, unlike the idle posts reserved for noble scions. He worked alongside officials who had risen through the examinations, where negligence was unacceptable.
Madam Liu went out to check, then returned: “Third Master has come back. He is eating supper now and will come shortly to see you.”
The Old Madam nodded, closed her eyes, and leaned back as a maid fanned her.
By the time night had fully fallen, the third master entered Songhe Hall, lifting the curtain and greeting his mother.
A stool was brought. Xiao Xiaolian wiped the sweat from his brow: “It’s hot. Why hasn’t ice been used in your room, Mother?”
“It’s fine. During the day, yes, but at night I had it removed.”
A maid came forward to fan him. The lamps flickered.
“Mother…”
The Old Madam waved away the attendants, then asked directly: “What do you know of the Liu family’s affairs?”
She fixed her gaze on him. His hesitant expression showed he was not ignorant. Her face hardened.
Sweat broke on his forehead. He said earnestly: “Mother, though the emperor favors our family now, he is already past sixty. In the future, who can say?”
What he did not say aloud was this: even if his elder brother inherited the title, his children would have to start from the lowest ranks, perhaps not even securing a seventh‑rank post. He had no daughters to enter the palace, but since the Second Prince had extended an olive branch, why not seize the chance to share in the glory of a dragon’s rise?
At present, the Crown Prince was the eldest, but not born of the Empress, nor favored by the emperor, and his abilities were mediocre. Only the Second Prince was the true legitimate son of the Empress, his status exalted. Though barely twenty, he already showed the bearing of an emperor and was widely admired by officials and commoners alike. Even the emperor’s tutor, Grand Preceptor Shen, praised his intelligence.
In Xiao Xiaolian’s eyes, the Second Prince was almost unquestionably the heir apparent. If the Xiao family rejected his overtures now, what favor could they expect once he became emperor? His ambition was personal, but he also believed he was acting in the best interests of the entire family. He knew well that the Xiao family had never aligned with any prince. Neither his elder brother nor his mother would allow it. Yet he came with the hope of persuading his mother. Times had changed—who could ignore such obvious advantages? But before he could frame his argument, his intentions were already exposed.
With a sharp *crash*, a teacup shattered at his feet.
Startled, he dropped to his knees: “Mother!”
“Whom do you back? And how do you know you’re not mistaken? Foolish boy!” The Old Madam pointed at him, her voice trembling with anger.
Seeing he still wished to speak, she continued: “The emperor is alive and well! Do you know how I learned of this? The emperor himself asked Mo’er whether the Liu family was kin to us.”
She looked coldly at her son: “Do you think these petty schemes escape the emperor’s notice? He is the Son of Heaven—his words are never idle. Do you understand?”
Xiao Xiaolian turned pale, stammering: “Mother… I have not… I have not agreed.”
He thought of the meeting arranged through his brother‑in‑law with a eunuch from the Empress’s palace, and sweat poured down his face, his body trembling.
“Mo’er did not tell me at once. He investigated the Liu family’s current dealings, and only then understood why the emperor mentioned them. Since Madam Liu married into our mansion and bore two children, she is part of our family. But as for that Liu girl—she may live here if she wishes, but marriage is out of the question. Do you understand?”
The Old Madam laid out her reasoning clearly.
Xiao Xiaolian listened, grateful. He could never cast off his wife, nor deprive his sons of their mother. His mother’s meaning was that the Duke’s mansion would protect Madam Liu, but she must sever ties with the Liu family.
“I understand,” he said, bowing his head to the floor with a heavy thud, before rising in dismay.
“Enough. Go now.”
His steps were heavy as he returned to Madam Liu’s quarters. She hurried to meet him. She knew the Old Madam had summoned him, and now, seeing his expression, she thought of the earlier instruction to bring her niece out into society. Could it be…?
She did not ask directly, but said with concern: “Has something happened in the mansion?”
He waved his hand, dismissed the servants, and sat her down solemnly: “I must tell you something. Listen carefully.”
He repeated his mother’s words, slightly altered. Madam Liu, though deeply attached to her brother, was now a wife of the Duke’s mansion and mother of two children. She knew where her duty lay. Yet she could do nothing. Since the emperor himself had raised the matter, it was a warning. She resolved to send a letter back home, discreetly advising her brother.
As for the outcome—she could only leave it to fate.