“Qier, do you know how much wheat one mu of land can produce these days?”
Xie Lanqi found her father’s expression very strange — proud yet astonished — and the question itself was odd. In her previous life, when she was young, her family had land, and she remembered that even an ordinary mu could easily yield over a thousand jin. In this life, she managed the sixty qing left to her by Great-aunt and oversaw the account books, so she knew the figures well.
“Ordinary fields yield four shi; the better ones reach five shi.”
Compared to the yields she remembered from her previous life, this was more than half less. A faint sigh unconsciously slipped into her tone.
Xie Lanqi was still puzzled, but Madam Liang understood immediately — even more clearly than Jing’an Earl, who usually paid little attention to worldly affairs.
“Husband, did Zhao Jin present those account books to His Majesty?”
“Madam, how did you know?”
Madam Liang looked at this father and daughter pair and sighed. The family was already so wealthy, and she had always felt she owed Qier something, so she never interfered in anything Great-aunt had left to her daughter.
Only the last time Qier brought out the account books had Madam Liang learned that the wheat yields were astonishingly high. But at that time, everyone was in such panic that she hadn’t paid much attention to it.
“In our manor, even the best land yields three shi per mu at most, and that’s already considered high — yet it’s still a full shi short. His Majesty places great importance on agriculture and sericulture; no wonder!” Madam Liang had grasped the key point. The way she now looked at Xie Lanqi was exactly the same as Jing’an Earl’s gaze.
“But Mother, I don’t know how to farm at all. I just left everything to the steward.” Xie Lanqi was dumbfounded. She really had never farmed herself. Selecting high-yield seeds, clever methods for pest control and weeding — she knew nothing about any of it. Even if the wheat harvest was abundant, it had nothing to do with her.
“Choosing a good steward is also your merit,” Madam Liang said firmly.
Jing’an Earl took over, unable to hide the pride in his voice. “Zhao Jin brought your estate’s steward with him. That steward said that, following your instructions, during the slack season he hired tenants to dig canals and sink wells to guard against floods and droughts. As long as there wasn’t a major flood or severe drought, the harvest was guaranteed. He even spent money to hire literate people to read agricultural books to the tenants and distributed farm tools for free. He even made sure that old farmers who couldn’t read a single character but were exceptionally skilled at tending crops were willing to share their experience openly. Zhao Jin compiled all of this into a memorial and presented it to His Majesty. When the Emperor read it, he praised our daughter for being well brought up.”
“I… Father, why didn’t you stop him?” Xie Lanqi felt deeply wronged. In her previous life she had tasted the bitterness of poverty; in this life she had money with nowhere to spend it. Since she couldn’t take it with her anyway, and she had chosen a capable steward, she had simply spent generously.
But she never imagined it would lead to praise from the Emperor — and of the “perfect match” variety. Could she refuse?
The proud expressions on Jing’an Earl and Madam Liang’s faces froze. Yes — compared to the honor they felt, the most important thing now was that they had no choice but to marry off their daughter.
Zhao Jin! It was his doing again. Xie Lanqi secretly ground her teeth.
……
At Marquis Anyuan’s residence, Zhao Jin’s nose suddenly itched, and he couldn’t hold back a sneeze.
Madam Luo had been crying and fussing for a long time. Her eyes were dry, her throat sore, and she still hadn’t received a single word of comfort from her son. Her breath caught painfully in her chest. Glancing over, she saw his distracted gaze and careless expression — he clearly hadn’t listened to a word she said. The anger made her heart ache sharply.
“You blind, lame-hearted thing!” Madam Luo pointed at Zhao Jin and cursed loudly. “That dead girl from the Xie family is rude, overbearing, and completely without manners. Poor Zhenling — such a good child — was publicly humiliated by her and fell seriously ill. She’s still lying in bed unable to get up. Instead of standing up for Zhenling, you actually helped that dead girl save face in front of His Majesty. You’re utterly shameless!”
“Mother, watch your words.” Zhao Jin’s face darkened. He looked straight at Madam Luo, his gaze heavy and oppressive. “His Majesty personally praised Second Miss Xie for her kind nature and commended Jing’an Earl for raising her well. To avoid disaster from careless speech, from now on, not one more word of that kind.”
Zhao Jin could let Madam Luo scold him freely, but he would not tolerate her insulting Xie Lanqi. In his previous life, when the two families were at odds, the Jing’an Earl Manor had no one in court to support them and could not compare to the powerful Marquis Anyuan household. No matter how low-profile they kept, they couldn’t escape the slander from opportunistic villains. Even Xie Lanqi, who hid away in a separate courtyard and almost never went out, was still dragged through the mud with baseless accusations of extravagance, incompetence, cruelty, and more.
Madam Luo had often cursed Xie Lanqi in his ear back then. At the time he had found it annoying but never stopped her — he had even felt a faint satisfaction.
His mother had been right about one thing: back then he really had been blind and lame-hearted, mistaking a bright pearl for broken tiles.
Whenever he thought of the foolish things he had done in his previous life and the humiliations Xie Lanqi had suffered because of him, Zhao Jin was filled with guilt and regret. He would never let her endure such wrongs again — no matter who the person was, not even his own mother.
“Are you threatening me?” Madam Luo could hardly believe her son would humiliate her like this for an outsider. It took her a long moment to speak.
“The Emperor’s command cannot be defied, Mother. Take care of yourself.” Zhao Jin’s voice was cold. Before leaving, he swept his gaze over the people around Madam Luo. “All of you — serve Madam properly. Anyone who dares gossip, stir trouble, or spread rumors will have their entire family sold off. No mercy.”
Madam Luo’s trusted maids and old servants were all terrified, bowing their heads even lower.
Especially Nanny Ping — she didn’t dare breathe loudly. She had a strong feeling the Heir’s words were directed at her.
Even after Zhao Jin had walked far away, the room remained deathly silent. When Madam Luo finally snapped out of her daze, her face was pale and her lips blue. Her voice trembled as she cursed, “That wretched thing! Does he even remember I’m his mother? He came from my womb!”
“Heir, you can’t go any farther. The Jing’an Earl Manor is just ahead.” Shang Xian grabbed Zhao Jin and spoke in a low voice. It wasn’t a festival or special occasion; showing up empty-handed like this would be far too discourteous.
Zhao Jin stopped abruptly. “I came here?”
Shang Xian looked at him and saw him staring straight ahead, brows tightly furrowed, jaw clenched. His expression was indescribably dejected — as though he were in deep pain but couldn’t voice it.
Just watching him made Shang Xian feel uncomfortable too.
Zhao Jin felt as though he had fallen into a nightmare.
The new emperor ascended the throne, set things right, and issued an edict restoring the Marquis Anyuan title. Zhao Jin entered the palace to express gratitude. The new emperor’s birth mother had been of humble origin — merely a palace maid. Emperor Zhaowu, in a drunken moment, favored her, and she became pregnant with a son. The emperor had never placed much importance on this child. Before ascending the throne, the new emperor had been unremarkable among the many princes, and Zhao Jin had no personal connection with him.
Unexpectedly, when the new emperor saw him, he seemed delighted and kept him for a long time. Zhao Jin accompanied the emperor in light conversation, but something felt off. By all reason, since the Marquis Anyuan title had been restored, his original principal wife, Xie Lanqi, should naturally receive the title and honors of Marchioness.
That day happened to be Xie Lanqi’s twenty-fourth birthday. Zhao Jin was eager to return home quickly, bringing with him the imperial decree granting her the proper rank.
Yet the new emperor seemed to have forgotten entirely — he never mentioned it and refused to let him leave. What Zhao Jin could never have anticipated was that the emperor ordered a woman to be brought in. It was none other than Xia Zhenling.
After the Marquis Anyuan household fell into ruin, Xia Zhenling had quickly entered Prince Lu’s residence as a concubine. When Prince Lu ascended the throne, she was granted the title of Consort Chong. After Prince Lu died without an heir, the throne passed to the new emperor.
Smiling, the new emperor said he could not bear to separate lovers and bestowed Xia Zhenling upon Zhao Jin.
Zhao Jin firmly refused. The emperor grew angry and left him kneeling all night.
The new emperor had ascended with the support of the Empress Dowager and the court ministers; his position was still insecure. He did not want the matter to become a public scandal, so even though Zhao Jin defied the decree, as soon as the palace gates opened at dawn, he was simply expelled from the palace.
Zhao Jin rushed back to the residence in frantic anxiety, only to be met with a bolt from the blue: his virtuous wife Xie Lanqi had left behind only a cold, lifeless body.
“Overwhelmed by grief, her heart became blocked, leading to heart failure and death.”
Died of a broken heart!
Some villains — no one knew how — had learned of the events in the palace. Rumors spread that he had accepted the beauty bestowed by the new emperor — and that beauty was none other than the Third Miss Xia he had always favored. The pitiful star-crossed lovers could finally be together. These rumors were deliberately spread until they reached Xie Lanqi’s ears.
At first, Zhao Jin refused to believe that someone of Xie Lanqi’s temperament would die of heartbreak. But doctor after doctor gave the same verdict, and he had no choice but to accept it. Holding her body, refusing to let go, he repeated over and over that he had long stopped caring for Xia Zhenling — that apart from her, he wanted no one else.
The pain of losing Xie Lanqi had been too deep, too hopeless. In this lifetime, Zhao Jin had never dared to recall that day — until his mother Madam Luo’s curses dragged those memories back to the surface, filling him with an urgent need to bare his true feelings to Xie Lanqi.
The desperation drove him almost out of his mind.
Zhao Jin gave a bitter smile. He could not frighten her — he had to take it slowly.
“Let’s go back.”