At dusk, Madam Ruan of the Shen family’s second branch had just finished supper when she heard that her eldest daughter, Shen Jingshu, had returned.
“Mother!” The girl’s voice came softly through the curtain, sounding as though she had suffered a great grievance.
Madam Ruan was startled. She quickly ordered a maid to help Shen Jingshu inside and another to fetch water. “Jingshu, come here. What has happened?” Her tone was gentle, but her concern could not be hidden.
The room fell into a flurry of activity.
Shen Jingshu wiped her tears, sobbing. Madam Ruan guessed at once—her daughter had gone to the Duke’s mansion that day, and she could imagine what had transpired.
Shen Jingshu was betrothed to the heir of the Xiao family since childhood. Yet so many years had passed, and though both were now of marriageable age, the Duke’s mansion had made no move. Who would not feel hurt?
Madam Ruan asked cautiously: “Did you see the heir today?”
The girl clung to her, refusing to lift her head. After a long silence, she muttered resentfully: “Mother, don’t speak of it! If he won’t marry me, then I won’t marry him. The betrothal was originally my younger sister’s. I only took her place to fulfill it. If they don’t want it, why should our Shen family force it?”
At the mention of the lost child, Madam Ruan’s heart ached. But what could be done? So many years had passed, and there was still no news. If not for Jingshu’s words, Madam Ruan rarely thought of the daughter she had carried for ten months and lost during the Lantern Festival. Her husband had said they must look forward. They all had to. And Yu’er—he had taken all the blame upon himself, already burdened enough.
Madam Ruan lowered her gaze to the girl before her, only half a year older than her own daughter.
After the child was lost, the Shen family, wishing to preserve the marriage alliance with the Duke’s mansion, placed Shen Jingshu of the eldest branch under Madam Ruan’s care. Outwardly, they concealed the disappearance so that if the girl were ever found, her reputation would remain intact.
At first, Madam Ruan had struggled to accept it. But for the sake of the alliance and her own daughter, she agreed.
Years passed. Shen Jingshu had been dutiful, always calling her “Mother,” softening her heart. Madam Ruan was no stone—she had come to regard Shen Jingshu as her own. And the girl was truly exceptional: her calligraphy had dazzled at court, and her conduct, speech, and manners were flawless.
Madam Ruan was proud. Though Shen Jingshu was fostered under her name, she never forbade her from seeing her birth parents. Yet perhaps because she had grown up in the second branch, Shen Jingshu was not close to the eldest branch.
Whenever she suffered outside, she came first to Madam Ruan—like now, nestling in her arms.
“Enough, Jingshu. You’ve been wronged, but you mustn’t speak such reckless words again.” Madam Ruan stroked her hair gently.
Shen Jingshu pouted: “But it’s true! They simply don’t want to honor the betrothal set by Great‑Grandfather.”
Madam Ruan sighed. This daughter, outwardly poised and gracious, was in private clingy and willful, spilling her complaints without restraint.
After a moment’s thought, Madam Ruan said: “In a few days, I will visit the Duke’s mansion to see the Duchess. Will you come with me?”
She and the Duchess had once been close friends. In her youth, Madam Ruan often visited the Marquis of Qingyuan’s household. Even now, her natal home stood just across the lane from theirs.
Shen Jingshu understood the matter. Though her eyes were brimming with tears, she watched Madam Ruan closely, and when she heard her words, a faint joy appeared on her face.
Madam Ruan, seeing this, pinched her nose playfully: “Look at you—who was it just now saying the marriage should be abandoned?”
Shen Jingshu pouted: “Your daughter only feels wronged, taking her sister’s place and bearing the burden for our Shen family.”
Shen Shaoyu had already arrived some time before. He did not let the maid announce him, but stood outside listening to their conversation. His chest felt tight, as though something was blocking it. When the maid moved to lift the curtain, he quickly gestured for her to stop and withdrew alone.
Later, when Shen Jingshu left the courtyard satisfied, the maid told Madam Ruan that the eldest young master had been there.
Madam Ruan sighed. She considered sending for her son again, but then waved her hand: “Forget it. Let him be.”
Her eldest son had never accepted Shen Jingshu as his sister. In his heart, she had taken the place of his lost younger sister. He stubbornly believed that the girl could still be found and remained trapped in the guilt of losing her when he was five. No matter how she tried to comfort him, it was useless.
At Jiyun Hall, Xu Shuyao returned to find her younger brother diligently studying, and her heart ached.
Two years had passed, and Xu Shuheng was now only nine.
Nine—an age when the sons of noble families in the capital were still at play. Yet Xu Shuheng, aside from attending the Shen clan school each day, spent his time in their small studio reading.
Even Xiao Jinwen had remarked more than once that he was too tense, that such discipline was unhealthy for a child, and that he should balance work and rest.
Xu Shuyao knew this well. She had told him several times, and he always agreed politely. But once alone, he picked up his books again. She no longer pressed him. She understood—her brother wanted to shoulder more, to become her support.
Though they lived in the Duke’s mansion, with no lack of food or clothing, they were still dependents, living at the mercy of others.
Xu Shuyao could only care for him in daily life, making sure he was never cold or hungry. As for matters at the clan school, she was powerless.
Xiao Jinwen had stopped attending since last year, so only Fifth Young Master Xiao Jinli accompanied Xu Shuheng.
Thinking of that boisterous boy, Xu Shuyao worried. But Xu Shuheng said the teacher valued him, and the Shen clan school was strict. Even if some boys were mischievous, with the Duke’s mansion name behind him, no one dared bully him.
As she pondered these things, Nanny Zheng entered quietly. Seeing Xu Shuyao inside, she hesitated.
“What is it, Nanny Zheng? Speak freely.”
The old servant glanced outside—Huixiang had gone to fetch supper and had not returned. She stepped closer and whispered: “Miss, Qiaowei and Yuzhu have been summoned again by Second Madam.”
Xu Shuyao knew her aunt often called those two maids for questioning. She had noticed. But what could she say? Their contracts were in her aunt’s hands. They were first servants of the Duke’s mansion, only secondarily hers.
Nanny Zheng waited, worried, but Xu Shuyao’s face remained calm.
“It’s fine. Go on with your work.” She spoke softly after a pause.