“Miss, you’ve been copying for half the day already. Please rest your hand.”
Before dawn, Xie Lanqi had risen and begun copying the Nanhua Sutra. She ate breakfast and lunch hastily, then continued copying without pause. Die Meng didn’t understand why her young mistress was so restless and quietly urged her to stop.
By the time the sun began to set in the west — dinnertime — Xie Lanqi still hadn’t lifted her head. Die Meng grew secretly anxious.
A young maid waiting outside called softly. Die Meng hurried out. A clever little page boy greeted her with a beaming bow. He was the personal attendant of Second Young Master Xie Yunzhi.
“Sister Die Meng, Second Young Master went to the temple fair with the master today. He picked out some little trinkets and asked me to bring them to Second Miss.”
Die Meng smiled, accepted the items, and gave the boy a handful of pine-nut candy. The boy hopped away happily.
“Miss, these are from Second Young Master.”
Xie Lanqi finally set down her brush. “Yunzhi? Why didn’t he come himself this time?”
Her younger brother always rushed over personally to show off any fun thing he found, calling her “Sister” this and “Sister” that. Xie Lanqi felt a little surprised but didn’t dwell on it. She casually opened the wooden box — then her gaze froze.
Inside lay a letter.
A guess rose in Xie Lanqi’s heart. She opened the envelope and looked first at the signature. As expected, it was from Zhao Jin.
Was he coming to question her on behalf of Third Miss Xia? By now he should have heard about the humiliation Xia Zhenling suffered. Surely he must realize by now that marrying her would bring endless trouble.
Her mood brightened. She eagerly read the contents — and her smile instantly froze.
“…My lady’s insight into people far surpasses mine. I am inferior and deeply ashamed…”
Not only did Zhao Jin not reproach her, he actually praised her for seeing through Xia Zhenling’s true nature at a glance. His words were sincere and fervent, yet the lines between them dripped with cold contempt for Third Miss Xia — so harsh it was hard to believe this was how he described a girl he supposedly loved.
“How terrifying…” Xie Lanqi murmured to herself, filled with dread. “What exactly does he want from me?”
Her hope that Zhao Jin would resist the marriage had shattered. At the same time, she suddenly realized he might be a deeply calculating and ruthless man. Xie Lanqi felt a wave of sorrow.
On the sixteenth day of the ninth month — an auspicious day — Marquis Anyuan Zhao Su arrived at the manor with matchmakers.
Jing’an Earl had once used the excuse that Xie Lanqi had offended a guest star and it was inauspicious for her to marry, thus delaying the wedding date. Marquis Anyuan tactfully avoided mentioning it and simply said they would choose another auspicious day.
Jing’an Earl refused twice more, citing the winter cold. By the third time, he had no more excuses and had to agree.
The wedding was set for the third month of the coming year — early spring, neither too cold nor too hot, with green grass and blooming flowers. It was a perfect day.
No matter what they did now, neither family could back out of the marriage. Xie Lanqi felt utterly defeated.
Although the main dowry items — fields, houses, furniture, gold, silver, and jewelry — had long been prepared and would not change, Jing’an Earl Xie Hao still wanted everything to be perfect down to the smallest, most elegant details. He busied himself with these matters every day.
Meanwhile, Madam Liang carefully selected the accompanying maids and servants. She felt that although her Qier had become much more sensible and considerate lately, there was still something indefinably strange about her deep down. Madam Liang worried secretly and insisted on choosing only reliable, trustworthy people to accompany her daughter so she could feel at ease.
With the earl and his wife occupied with dowry preparations, and Xie Yunqian and Xie Yunzhi busy with studies and martial training, the idlest person in the entire manor turned out to be Xie Lanqi.
More than a month passed this way. Finally, Madam Liang noticed something was wrong.
“Mother, please don’t be angry. It’s not that I refuse to embroider the wedding dress — I simply don’t have the skill.” Xie Lanqi quickly admitted fault and held out both hands, palms up. Her fair, tender fingertips were dotted with many tiny red puncture marks from needle pricks.
Madam Liang felt both heartache and exasperation. She had never expected her daughter to embroider the entire dress — just a few flowers as a token gesture would have been enough. She hadn’t realized the girl was this clumsy with needlework.
In families like theirs, girls were not required to be highly skilled in embroidery. But to not lift a single needle at all was another matter entirely. Dismissing the maids, Madam Liang decided to teach her daughter properly.
“Never mind. The wedding dress will be given to the embroiderers.” Madam Liang spoke calmly. “You concentrate on making a pouch. Finish it before the twenty-seventh.”
“A pouch?”
“The twenty-seventh of the tenth month is Zhao Jin’s birthday. Don’t you even know that?” Madam Liang rubbed her forehead, suddenly realizing how serious the situation was. “Qier, next March you two will be married. You must show him some care.”
“No matter how things were before, when our family was in trouble, he stepped forward to help. Mother can see that he has changed from the way he used to be. Once you marry him, he will protect you.” Madam Liang spoke earnestly. “A person’s heart is made of flesh. He can feel whether you put your heart into it or not. Remember, he is your husband. You must lower your pride a little. You cannot treat him coldly — you must let him remember your kindness. Even if in the future he has many concubines and illegitimate children, you will still be the principal wife.”
Madam Liang lectured at length on the gentle, graceful ways a wife should behave. Then her tone shifted, and she earnestly cautioned, “But in your heart, you must stay clear-headed. No matter how important he is, you yourself are more important. Never lightly believe sweet words or let yourself be deceived.”
Madam Liang was convinced that since Xie Lanqi could not bear children, Zhao Jin would certainly take concubines — and there was nothing the Jing’an Earl Manor could say about it. Moreover, in this world, men like Jing’an Earl Xie Hao — who took neither concubines nor favored maids — were rare as phoenix feathers. In her eyes, taking concubines and having illegitimate sons was not a world-shattering calamity. What mattered was how to balance the concubines, secure the position of principal wife, and live comfortably.
Xie Lanqi’s porcelain-pale face remained expressionless. She understood the logic Madam Liang spoke, but she could not do it. To treat him intimately as a husband while simultaneously treating him like an employer — caring for his concubines and their children — would drive her to a nervous breakdown. She could not do it, and she refused to try.
“…I’ve carefully selected four maids to serve as chamber maids. Two of them are pretty and quick-witted — the kind who easily win people’s affection. The other two come from large families with many brothers — you can tell at a glance they’re likely to be fertile and bear children easily. But we’re still short one who is loyal, capable, and able to assist you in managing the household affairs. That one cannot be bought from outside. Mother thinks Die Meng is very suitable.”
“Mother!” Xie Lanqi couldn’t help crying out softly. “I will never use a maid I brought with me from home as a chamber maid.”
“You’re being stubborn.” Madam Liang grew a little angry too. “How can outsiders ever be as trustworthy as our own people? Even if you hold their indenture papers, things may be fine for three or five years — but what about ten or twenty years from now? People’s hearts change. Only maids you’ve raised yourself can be truly relied upon. Their entire families are in our manor. If you do well, they do well. As long as you don’t mistreat them out of foolishness, they won’t betray you easily.”
Madam Liang was truly worried sick and had thought everything through far into the future. She wished she could arrange Xie Lanqi’s entire life perfectly. A beam of sunlight slanted through the window and fell on Madam Liang’s temple, highlighting a single stark silver hair.
Xie Lanqi suddenly felt a pang in her heart. She had been born with memories of her previous life and feared deep attachments — afraid they would hurt others and herself. Except for Great-aunt, she had drawn a quiet barrier in her heart against everyone else, keeping her emotions restrained and distant.
Only in these last two or three months, when everything spiraled out of control and the Jing’an Earl Manor faced one crisis after another, had she unconsciously let go of her restraint. Her feelings toward her parents and younger brothers had become genuine.
Xie Lanqi swallowed the ache in her chest. Madam Liang’s plans were thorough and thoughtful, but she herself was only twenty-four and would soon leave this life — there was no need to plan twenty or thirty years ahead.
“Mother, what kind of person do you think Zhao Jin is?” Xie Lanqi softened her tone, set aside her sharp edges, and gently wrapped her arms around Madam Liang. Her voice came out soft and gentle.