The Marquis of Jing’an received the news and hurried back to the residence from the Taoist temple outside the city that very night.
“Madam, don’t cry, don’t cry.”
The Marquis was at a complete loss. His wife had a strong personality and rarely cried so bitterly. He quickly comforted her in a gentle voice.
Lady Liang’s eyes were swollen huge. Seeing him still in his Taoist robes and holding a horsetail whisk, she grew even angrier and complained, “You might as well become a monk and cultivate the Dao, and let us mother and daughters be bullied by anyone who wants to!”
“It’s my fault, Madam—please don’t be upset.” The Marquis did not enjoy fame, power, or women; he only loved discussing metaphysics and the Dao. He had originally planned to stay at the Xuanmiao Temple for a full forty-nine days, but because of this incident, he cut it short and rushed home.
The Marquis was deeply immersed in the mysteries of the Dao. All household affairs and matters concerning the children had been handled entirely by Lady Liang for so many years. She had never complained, and he felt genuine gratitude in his heart.
Knowing she was furious beyond measure, he quickly set the whisk aside.
The more Lady Liang thought about it, the angrier she became. She burst into loud sobs again. “You don’t like taking official posts, you don’t like socializing—your title is just an empty marquis rank with no real power. No wonder Lady Luo dares to bully us like this.”
The Marquis listened silently, showing no anger on his face.
After crying herself out, Lady Liang calmed down and regretted speaking so harshly.
“Madam, put this warm cloth on your eyes. Crying so hard will make them hurt.” The Marquis handed her a warm handkerchief.
Though the Marquis was already past forty, he still had a tall, slender figure and a clear, refined face. Perhaps because he never worried about worldly troubles, his eyes remained as clear and bright as ever.
Lady Liang’s eyes stung with tears. When she married this husband, she already knew his temperament. He had no interest in official career, yet he never took concubines and treated her wholeheartedly. How could she take her anger out on him?
“Husband, I’m sorry.”
The Marquis sighed. “Madam, you’re not wrong. At this point, the blame does fall on me.”
“It was my selfishness—I wanted to borrow the power of the An Yuan Marquis household, so I hid the truth about Qi girl.” The Marquis felt bitter. “We should have broken off this engagement long ago. Qi girl’s fate has always been full of hardships. As her parents, we should cherish and protect her even more.”
Mentioning Qi girl made Lady Liang cover her face with the handkerchief and weep again. “I always blamed her for being heartless and carefree. Only now do I realize I was wrong. She swallowed all her bitterness and acted like nothing was wrong in front of us—just so we wouldn’t worry.”
“How could I blame her? Back then, when I was pregnant with her, everyone said it was a boy. But when she was born, she was a girl.”
Lady Liang had a difficult labor with Xie Lanqi and her body was damaged. The doctors said she would likely never conceive again. Her mother-in-law started arranging for concubines. In her anger and resentment, Lady Liang took it all out on Xie Lanqi.
“At just two years old, the little thing was sent to live with her aunt at the old residence in Huizhou Prefecture. When she came back to the capital for her coming-of-age ceremony, she fell gravely ill. The illness was cured, but she could never have children again. Now the whole capital’s high families know about it. My poor Qi girl—how can she be so unfortunate?”
The Marquis felt the same heartache. He and Lady Liang had two daughters and two sons. The eldest daughter Xie Lanjin, eldest son Xie Yunqian, and second son Xie Yunzhi had all grown up under their care and were deeply loved. Only their second daughter Xie Lanqi—they had truly owed her so much.
“Break off the engagement. The marquis household will support her for life. When we’re gone, Yunqian will take care of his sister.” The Marquis’s eyes also reddened. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll return the betrothal contract and gift list to the An Yuan Marquis household. We’re breaking it off!”
At first light, before the Marquis could even leave the residence, a page boy came running to report, “My lord Marquis, the Heir of the An Yuan household has arrived.”
Zhao Jin gave a deep bow. “Father-in-law, this son-in-law has come to apologize and accept any beating, scolding, or punishment you see fit.”
The Marquis looked at the young man before him—handsome, upright, with firm and resolute features. He was completely different from the arrogant and wild youth in his memory. The Marquis felt curious about how the boy had suddenly become so steady, but then he remembered: once the engagement was broken, the two families would have no further connection. He lost interest in Zhao Jin.
“Don’t call me father-in-law. I won’t beat or scold you. You and my second girl are not fated. Since you’re here, take back the betrothal contract, the gift list, complete the inventory, and haul away all the betrothal gifts.”
Zhao Jin felt bitter and speechless. This father-in-law had a gentle, innocent nature. Hiding the fact that Lanqi could not bear children was probably the most extreme thing he had ever done in his life.
“Father-in—”
A cough came from behind the curtain—Lady Liang. The Marquis’s tone immediately hardened. “This marriage is canceled for good. Stop nagging. Take the betrothal gifts away right now.”
With that, he called for people to open the storehouse, harness the carts, and load everything up.
“Fa—Uncle, as a junior, I dare not accept this. Even if you are determined, please wait a few days until my father returns, then discuss it properly.” Zhao Jin forced himself to stay composed and kept persuading. “After all, this marriage was arranged by my late grandfather and your late father.”
Once his father finished his official duties and had an audience with the emperor, no one would dare break off this marriage.
In his previous life, he had been blind and foolish, treating a precious pearl like broken tiles. Even though the Jing’an Marquis household refused to marry their daughter to him, neither family dared to formally cancel the engagement—they could only drag it out day by day.
The Marquis thought it over. It did seem more proper to discuss it with the Marquis of An Yuan himself, and a few days’ delay wouldn’t hurt. He nodded and had someone escort Zhao Jin out.
Zhao Jin did not return to the marquis residence. Instead, he went to a small courtyard he had quietly purchased.
“Young Master, this servant found a coroner and a horse doctor. We dissected the mad horse and found mandrake root in its stomach,” Shang Xian reported.
“Mandrake root?”
“It’s a poisonous plant—grows on hillsides, roadsides, near houses. Easy to pick. Highly toxic. If cattle or horses eat it, they go mad. But the horse doctor said this plant has a strong, strange smell. Fresh, horses and cattle usually won’t eat it willingly. Most cases of poisoning happen when it’s mixed into fodder by mistake.”
A cold glint flashed in Zhao Jin’s dark eyes. The real target of the person behind this might not have been him. He had a close private friendship with Prince Zhou, who loved fine horses and kept a group of skilled horse handlers in his residence. That horse had originally been Prince Zhou’s mount.
That day, his own horse injured its hoof on the mountain climb, so Prince Zhou lent him this one.
In his previous life, troubled by the engagement scandal, he had no energy to investigate. Prince Zhou had his men check and found nothing, so they simply disposed of the mad horse.
The traitor was inside Prince Zhou’s own residence—no wonder nothing was discovered.
Zhao Jin felt a chill of horror. If this mad-horse incident had been deliberately planned, then two years later, when Prince Zhou suddenly developed a high fever that no medicine could cure, leading to his death—was that also not an accident, but murder?
The downfall of the An Yuan Marquis household began exactly after Prince Zhou’s death.
The An Yuan household had bet on the wrong prince in the succession struggle, while the Jing’an household, despite its great wealth, had no real power to protect itself and attracted greedy eyes. Both families suffered total ruin.
It was under those circumstances that Zhao Jin and Xie Lanqi finally married.
Thinking of how, after their marriage, Xie Lanqi stood by him to hold up the crumbling Zhao family, followed him into exile in Liaodong, and endured every hardship with him—only to die of heartbreak and despair from malicious schemes just as he finally returned to the capital and regained his title—Zhao Jin’s pain was unbearable.
He didn’t know which god or Buddha had given him this second chance at life. This time, he would marry her with grand ceremony, protect her in peace and safety for the rest of her days, and never let her suffer even the slightest hardship again.
Zhao Jin went to see Prince Zhou.
After hearing him out, Prince Zhou’s face turned ugly. He had always treated his subordinates generously—yet someone still betrayed him from within.
“Don’t let any word leak out—it might alert the snake in the grass.”
Zhao Jin nodded. “Your Highness, rest assured.”
“There’s one more thing: keep this from Deng Xiang. If he finds out, he’ll surely let something slip in front of the princess consort. She has just recovered from an illness—I don’t want her to worry.” Prince Zhou earnestly instructed him.
Deng Xiang was the younger brother of the Zhou Princess Consort, and the siblings were extremely close.
Zhao Jin smiled and nodded. Prince Zhou and his princess consort shared a very deep and loving bond.
It was strange, really. From the founding emperor Gaozu down to the current Emperor Zhao Wu, three generations of emperors had all been warrior-kings who rose on horseback. In the previous dynasty, they were decisive in battle and kept harems full of beauties. Yet the late Crown Prince Yide and Prince Zhou were both gentle, generous, and respectful toward their principal wives—completely unlike their fathers and grandfathers.
The late Crown Prince Yide had passed away from illness two years earlier. Emperor Zhao Wu, grieving the loss of his beloved son, fell seriously ill himself but refused to name another crown prince.
Among the princes, Prince Zhou’s temperament most resembled the late Crown Prince: refined, scholarly, magnanimous, and kind-hearted. As Prince Zhou’s close study companion, Zhao Jin shared an excellent private friendship with him. After weighing the options, the Marquis of An Yuan had placed his greatest bet on Prince Zhou.
The two discussed the matter for a while. Suddenly, the standing clock chimed with a clear “dong-dong.” Prince Zhou glanced at it and smiled. “The princess consort is coming.”
Sure enough, a short while later, the pull-bell in the study rang—this was the inner attendant at the door reporting something.
Prince Zhou pushed open the door and went out.
Zhao Jin heard light, quick footsteps fade away. Soon Prince Zhou returned, carrying a food box.
“Lately my spleen and stomach have been out of balance. The imperial physician advised eating smaller meals more frequently. Every day around shen hour (3–5 p.m.), the princess consort personally brings me some light snacks.” Prince Zhou’s tone was full of pride, though he gave an apologetic smile. “She had prepared an extra portion today, but when she heard it was you, she took it back.”
Zhao Jin also laughed. “I wonder what offense I committed against the princess consort?”
Prince Zhou set out the steaming hot porridge and snacks, then explained helplessly, “The princess consort has a straightforward nature. She feels indignant on behalf of the second miss of the Jing’an Marquis household.”
Zhao Jin clenched his fist. Pain flashed in his eyes and could not be hidden. Although things were not as disastrous as in his previous life, he had still failed to stop the news of Xie Lanqi’s inability to bear children from spreading.
Prince Zhou also pitied the second miss of the Jing’an household, but Zhao Jin was his own man. “Speaking of which, Youcheng, your wish has come true after all. The third miss of the Xia household is no longer young either.”
Zhao Jin’s courtesy name was Youcheng.
“Your Highness, please speak carefully.” Zhao Jin’s expression turned cold and serious. “I have absolutely no connection with the third miss of the Xia household.”
Prince Zhou blinked in confusion. What was going on? He was completely lost.
“There is one more thing I must beg Your Highness to help with.” Zhao Jin bowed deeply. In his previous life, when Xie Lanqi became a laughingstock, only the Zhou Princess Consort had extended a helping hand. Later, the two women became close and inseparable friends.
In this life, he wanted to marry her as soon as possible. To remove the barrier between Xie Lanqi and her parents, he would need the princess consort’s help.
After seeing Zhao Jin off and receiving a cold reception from his wife, Prince Zhou finally realized he had unknowingly accepted a very hot potato.
……
“Second Sister, I picked some lotus pods and water caltrops. Let’s make an ice bowl to eat!”
The second young master of the Jing’an Marquis household, Xie Yunzhi, was only seven years old—talkative and lively. Following his parents’ instructions, he stayed in the side courtyard to keep his second sister company, cheer her up, and keep her from thinking about upsetting things.
Xie Lanqi beckoned and teased him playfully.
This side courtyard of the Jing’an Marquis household was vast, with a large body of water planted with lotus roots, water caltrops, and similar plants. A long covered walkway and pavilions had been built over the water.
Light gauze curtains hung around the pavilion—enough to keep out mosquitoes and insects while letting the breeze pass through. Gusts of cool wind carrying the fragrance of lotus flowers blew in, refreshing and comfortable.
A贵妃 couch (a luxurious lounge bed) had been placed in the pavilion. Xie Lanqi lay on her side, casually flipping through a storybook, enjoying the cool breeze and admiring the red lotuses and green leaves. Her heart felt wonderfully content.
This was exactly the kind of leisurely life she wanted as a noble young lady of the marquis household.
While living with her grandaunt in Huizhou Prefecture, Xie Lanqi had been completely free. She disliked needlework, so she didn’t learn it. She loved poetry, books, rites, music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, so her grandaunt hired excellent teachers for her.
When she returned to the marquis household at her coming-of-age ceremony, all for the sake of that one betrothal agreement and becoming a proper, qualified wife of a marquis household, her mother Lady Liang taught her how to manage inner-court affairs: handling servants, social etiquette, household accounts, expenditures—even how to balance favor among favored concubines. Xie Lanqi had suffered terribly.
After the big scene at Youfu Temple, Xie Lanqi became the pitiful little victim in everyone’s eyes. But for herself, it was a dream come true—she had broken free from her chains and was finally living a relaxed, carefree vacation life.
With her little brother Xie Yunzhi, she peeled tender fresh lotus seeds and cracked open crisp young water caltrop flesh. They chatted and laughed happily together.
“Madam has arrived.”
Lady Liang’s face was dark and heavy. Looking at her second daughter who was “forcing a smile,” tears rolled down her cheeks. “My poor Qi girl… Even if it means displeasing His Majesty, Mother cannot let you enter that tiger’s den of the An Yuan Marquis household.”
The lotus seed Xie Lanqi had just peeled dropped with a soft “plop” to the ground. “Mother, didn’t we already break off the engagement?”
“I see now why that Zhao Jin boy was putting on such a pitiful act. He’s trying to curry favor with His Majesty. A man with such deep schemes—your simple nature—if you marry into that family, Mother is afraid I’ll lose my daughter forever.”
From Lady Liang’s long string of complaints, Xie Lanqi pieced together two key points:
1.The emperor had already expressed his stance—the marriage could not be broken off.
2.Her parents were now planning a strategy of passive resistance: they would keep her as an old maid at home and never let her marry.
The engagement would not be canceled, but she would not marry either.