As they were leaving, Madam Chen held Xu Shuyao’s hand and spoke for quite some time. She mentioned Jiyun Hall: “Is there anything lacking in that courtyard? Don’t hesitate to ask. Don’t let shyness make you uncomfortable in your own lodgings.”
Xu Shuyao quickly shook her head, saying everything was fine.
Madam Chen patted her hand warmly, though with a trace of regret: “It’s just a little far from here. Otherwise, we could talk more often. You came at an unlucky time—there used to be an empty courtyard near Jinshan, but it was given to Miss Liu earlier this year.”
At the thought of Liu Qingwan, Madam Chen frowned. She had heard her stepson was fond of that girl. Liu Qingwan was excellent in every way, but Madam Chen disliked her. Whether or not they suited each other, she would never approve of such a match.
The eldest and third branches were legitimate; the second branch, being born of a concubine, already had a precarious position in the Duke’s mansion. And Madam Chen, childless, was even more vulnerable. If her stepson married the third branch’s niece, she herself would become irrelevant. Still, she suspected Liu Qingwan’s pride might prevent her from accepting Xiao Jinrong. Yet Madam Chen could not ignore the possibility.
Xu Shuyao, hearing her aunt’s tone, realized she did not favor Miss Liu. As an outsider who had never met Liu, she could not comment. But she noted that Liu Qingwan’s name had already come up twice in one day—once when Nanny Wu compared her looks to Liu Qingwan’s, and now from her aunt’s lips. To be mentioned so often meant Liu Qingwan was no ordinary girl.
Xu Shuyao raised her brows slightly, but spoke with obedient sweetness:
“My brother and I are already deeply grateful for Aunt’s care. As for distance—could it be farther than the journey from Huzhou to the capital? Since we now live here, this short walk is nothing. If Aunt does not mind, I will come every day to trouble you, only hoping you won’t grow weary of me.”
Madam Chen’s expression froze for a moment. She looked at the girl in surprise, seeing her eyes slightly red, her manner seemingly moved. She laughed at herself for being suspicious. The words were too perfect, reminding her of the “heartfelt” phrases exchanged among noble ladies, hard to tell true from false. But Xu Shuyao was only fourteen—surely genuine.
Madam Chen sighed, thinking her own heart had grown too guarded. She clasped Xu Shuyao’s hand with emotion: “Good child! You’ve suffered. From now on, treat this as your home. Whatever troubles you, tell Aunt.”
Then, seeing the late hour, she said: “Enough, go back now. Tomorrow, rise early with your brother—I’ll take you to pay respects to the Dowager Madam.”
Xu Shuyao agreed obediently, and she and her brother left Jinhua Hall.
By then, lanterns were lit across the mansion, glowing like stars. Walking along the stone path, Xu Shuyao felt the summer night breeze on her face and hair, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees. Her lips curved in a faint smile.
A motherless child grows up early. Since the age of eight, Xu Shuyao had not known true childhood joy. She remembered clearly that summer. Her father went to visit her gravely ill mother, while she was sent to another room to watch her one‑year‑old brother.
That day, Xu Shuheng cried endlessly. Unable to soothe him, she thought to ask her mother. Approaching the door, she overheard her parents speaking softly: “If I pass away, raising the children alone will be hard. Shuyao is so well‑behaved—I’ve long treated her as my own daughter. Only after becoming a mother myself did I understand a mother’s love. The jade pendant found on her—clearly no ordinary item. How did she fall into the hands of traffickers? For years, we’ve been consumed by worldly affairs, never properly searching for her true parents. When she grows older, tell her the truth. Even if we cannot help, perhaps one day she can find them herself…”
She could no longer hear what her father said afterward.
For a long time, Xu Shuyao stood outside the door, tears streaming down her face. Only then did she understand why her dreams so often showed a lantern festival bright as day, and why she always heard someone behind her calling out: “Taotao! Taotao…”
She had never asked her parents how old she was when she came to the Xu family. Perhaps out of fear, her memory had erased that part. Or maybe she had been too young when she was lost, unable to remember anything.
Not long after, her mother passed away. Xu Shuyao cried until her heart broke, kneeling before the coffin and vowing again and again to care for her younger brother. In the years that followed, she grew up quickly, taking on all the responsibilities of a little adult after her mother’s death.
Six years later, her father also died. Before his passing, he called her to his bedside and spoke of the past. He said that when they found her, she looked about one or two years old. Her birth date and zodiac were only estimated. They had met her on the ninth day of the eighth month, so that day was set as her birthday. He remembered only that the trafficker claimed the child had come from the capital. Nothing more was known.
Her father urged her to stay well within the Xu family. Searching for her true parents would be like finding a needle in the sea—hopeless. Worse, without knowing the circumstances of her disappearance, revealing her origins might attract ill‑intentioned people and bring danger. He told her not to cling to the matter.
But he never imagined she would one day be unable to remain in the Xu household, and that she would rely on her mother’s tenuous connection to the Duke’s mansion to reach the capital.
Thinking of all the hardships she had endured, and of her brother soon to enter the Shen clan school, Xu Shuyao’s mood gradually lifted.
The Shen family was renowned for producing scholars and officials. Their ancestors had aided several emperors in ascending the throne. Today, Grand Tutor Shen, mentor to the emperor, was the head of this illustrious line. To study at the Shen clan school was an honor sought by the sons of noble families throughout the capital.
Xu Shuyao had met her uncle for the first time that day. Though he spoke only a few words, she could tell he was a good man. That gave her some comfort about her future in the Duke’s mansion.
The night breeze was pleasant. Xu Shuyao walked slowly when, suddenly, her skirt hem lifted in a gust. Looking up, she saw a tall, commanding man in black, followed by guards, striding past toward the main road. She stopped, startled.
Qiaowei whispered: “Miss! That is the Eldest Young Master!”
“The Eldest Young Master?”
“Yes, it’s him,” Qiaowei confirmed.
Xu Shuyao’s mind turned. She had thought it was thanks to Marquis Qingyuan’s son that she reached the capital. But in truth, the one behind it all was the Duke’s own heir. He had traveled through Huzhou under his cousin’s name.
No wonder she had sensed such deadly sharpness in the man’s eyes at the city gate. If he was indeed Xiao Mo, the famed heir of Duke Cheng, commander of the Imperial Guards, then it all made sense.
She watched the dark figure disappear into the distance, then lowered her gaze, smoothing the folds of her skirt. Turning to her brother and maids, she smiled lightly: “Let’s go back too.”