Once Xiao Jinrong left Jinhua Hall, Madam Chen’s smile vanished. She lazily tossed aside the paper listing the young ladies’ names, then instructed Nanny Wu: “When Second Young Master goes out, have someone summon Yingluo.”
Nanny Wu’s eyes flashed, and she bowed her head in assent.
At Jiyun Hall, perhaps because of Madam Chen’s earlier words, Xu Shuyao had felt uneasy these past days. Xiao Jinwei’s marriage had already been settled, and she heard her aunt was now seeking matches for her second cousin.
Xu Shuyao was surprised—only days before, Madam Chen had hinted at keeping her in the household.
Xu Shuyao did not believe her aunt intended to make her Xiao Jinrong’s concubine; concubines offered too little room for maneuver.
Meanwhile, the young lady in Qiangwei Courtyard had fallen ill again. Shuyao’s ties with her were shallow, and after the incident at Songhe Hall, she did not visit personally. Instead, she sent her maid with some homemade food as a token gesture.
Over the past two years, Xu Shuyao’s greatest improvement had been her cooking. When she first arrived in the capital, her skills were only passable. But in the Duke’s household, to keep her purse from running dry, she had worked hard at it. Thus, when visiting the sick, she could simply spend a little effort and ingredients.
That day, returning from Jinhua Hall, Xu Shuyao noticed her chest of books and letters seemed disturbed. At first, she thought a maid had knocked it while cleaning and paid no mind.
But as she sat reading, she caught Qiaowei glancing repeatedly at the chest. Their eyes met, and Xu Shuyao sensed something was wrong.
She set down her book, frowned, and said nothing.
Qiaowei had served her for over two years; she was usually calm and steady.
Xu Shuyao rose, opened the chest, and checked its contents one by one. Suddenly, an unsigned letter appeared. Her heart jolted. Reading it, her face turned pale. It was a love letter from a man to a woman—signed by a certain “Young Master Qiu.”
But Xu Shuyao knew no such person. Who was trying to harm her?
She turned to Qiaowei, who looked equally shocked.
“Do you know this Young Master Qiu? Or how this letter came here?” xu Shuyao’s voice was sharp as she fixed her gaze on the maid.
Qiaowei shook her head, then dropped to her knees in fright. “Mistress! Isn’t it from Second Young Master?”
Xu Shuyao closed her eyes. “So you put the letter here, thinking it was his?” She looked again at the maid, nodding frantically, and suddenly everything became clear.
“Mistress! What should we do with the letter?” Qiaowei asked anxiously.
Expressionless, Xu Shuyao took out the paper, replaced it with another sheet, and wrote something upon it. Then she slipped it back inside, calmly restored the chest to its place, and composed herself.
Qiaowei had watched everything unfold. Her panic was momentarily stunned into silence by her mistress’s calm actions.
After a while, Xu Shuyao lifted her head and looked straight at her. “From now on, you must pretend to know nothing. Do you understand?”
Their gazes met, and soon Qiaowei’s eyes brimmed with tears. Xu Shuyao watched her wipe them away with her sleeve, forcing herself to hold them back.
One seated, one standing—the room quickly returned to its earlier quiet, as though nothing had happened.
As expected, before long, noise rose outside.
Nanny Zheng, busy in the outer quarters, rushed in. “Mistress! Many people have come!”
Xu Shuyao curved her lips into a faint smile, closed her book, and said, “Come, let’s go see.”
At the gate of Jiyun Hall stood Madam Chen, with Second Master Xiao at her side.
Looking back, Xu Shuyao met Xiao Jinrong’s cold gaze. Yet when their eyes met, he curved his lips slightly. “This is the first time Jinrong has come to Cousin Shuyao’s courtyard. It is not that I deliberately intrude, but Mother commanded me. I had no choice. I hope Cousin will not take offense.”
He bowed formally, his manners impeccable.
Xu Shuyao turned her eyes away, just as Madam Chen ordered: “Search inside!”
Then she looked at her niece with a seemingly comforting smile. “Do not worry. Your aunt will see justice done for you.”
Xu Shuyao lowered her head slightly, as though in greeting, though she felt no mood for it.
Second Master Xiao was bewildered. He had barely returned home when Madam Chen hurried to meet him: “My lord, you’re finally back! I have urgent news.”
She wept as she spoke: “I have been arranging Jinrong’s marriage, choosing only the finest young ladies, and even summoned him to look. He agreed on the surface, but behind our backs, he has been entangled with my niece. Shuyao is the quietest of girls—you know her yourself—how could she dare refuse him?”
Through her sobbing, the Second Master finally pieced together the story. Though displeased at his wife’s protectiveness toward her niece, he recalled the girl’s appearance—rarely beautiful, as he had once noticed. Could his son truly harbor such thoughts?
He asked for proof, and thus began the search of Jiyun Hall.
Several servants apologized before filing in. They did not go straight to the chest but carefully examined every corner.
Not far away, Xiao Jinrong looked relaxed, even smiling faintly.
Madam Chen glanced at him, her brows knitting slightly. For the first time, doubt stirred in her heart. She had instructed Yingluo to give Qiaowei the letter Xiao Jinrong once wrote to Liu Qingwan. It bore no name, only the usual words of a man’s admiration for a woman.
But could there have been a mistake?
She had been confident—such a scandal would tarnish her niece’s reputation, and in the end, the Second Master would insist his son marry Xu Shuyao.
Yet in this moment, though Xu Shuyao felt anger and sorrow, she did not feel shame. Her eyes were lowered, but she stood tall, listening to the bustle that did not belong to her quiet courtyard. Already, she was thinking of what words to say next.