Zhao Changting had spent seven years in Mobei, achieving numerous military merits both great and small. However, when he was younger, his uncle Tang Shinian had suppressed his promotions, preventing him from advancing as quickly as others. Thus, it was only at the age of fifteen that he was given the same opportunities as his peers. Yet, in just two short years, he rose from an ordinary soldier to a Deputy Battalion Commander of the fifth rank.
Such a rapid promotion demonstrated his courage and strategic mind. Therefore, it was no surprise that he played a significant role in the recent decisive victory over the Xiongnu, forcing them to kneel and beg for mercy, willing to submit and sue for peace.
During the stalemate of the great battle, when further progress seemed difficult, it was he who proposed to General Tang that he lead seven hundred soldiers on a flanking maneuver to strike directly at the Xiongnu’s stronghold. There, he killed nearly two thousand Xiongnu warriors and took the head of their leader, Wurigeng. Coordinating with General Tang’s forces in a pincer attack, they achieved a complete victory.
General Tang, being an upright man and Zhao Changting’s maternal uncle, naturally reported this military achievement early on. Along with the victory dispatch, it was rushed eight hundred li by express courier to the desk of Emperor Mingde of Daliang.
Emperor Mingde was overjoyed. Upon Zhao Changting’s return, given that he already held the status of heir apparent and was destined to inherit the title of Marquis Changping, the emperor not only rewarded him with one thousand taels of gold, three thousand taels of silver, silks, jewels, and other treasures but also directly promoted him to the position of Vice Commander of the Imperial Guard, a substantive third-rank official position.
A third-rank position with real authority, allowing him to frequently attend the emperor—such an honor was indeed extraordinary.
Thus, when Zhao Changting returned to the manor at noon, accompanied by the imperial rewards, Marquis Changping Zhao Chengping was also granted permission to return together.
However, Zhao Changting was a military officer, while Marquis Changping was a civil official. Therefore, one rode a horse while the other traveled by carriage. Though they journeyed together, there was not a single word exchanged between them.
The Changping Marquisate soon came into view. Zhao Changting reined in his horse and dismounted, striding ahead toward the main gate.
Old Madam and Zhuang Mingxiang, along with others, had long received the news. Now, the entire family, young and old, waited at the main gate. Seeing the young boy of twelve from years past now grown into a nineteen-year-old youth—tall, handsome, and dignified—Old Madam trembled as she hurried forward, embracing him and weeping: “Ting Ge’er! My Ting Ge’er, you have finally returned!”
“Grandmother.” Zhao Changting supported Old Madam, kneeling with a choked voice, “Your unfilial grandson has returned.”
Old Madam cried while lightly pounding his chest with her fist: “You still know to come back! You still know to come back!”
One shed tears uncontrollably, while the other could not hold back the redness in his eyes.
Marquis Changping stepped down from the carriage a moment later, witnessing this scene.
Seven years. Seven years ago, they had quarreled fiercely as father and son. Now, seven years later, his son had returned, yet still refused to acknowledge him.
Not only that, but for these seven years, his mother had also held a grudge against him in her heart.
Knowing that his presence would displease both of them, Marquis Changping raised his eyes and looked toward Zhuang Mingxiang, who stood behind Old Madam, his gaze pleading.
Unable to bear the man’s expression, Zhuang Mingxiang sighed softly in her heart and stepped forward to persuade: “Mother, let us speak inside. Ting Ge’er has just returned after a long journey. Allow him to rest indoors.”
Old Madam heeded the advice, wiped her tears, and helped Zhao Changting to his feet.
After a slight hesitation, she gently took Zhao Changting’s hand and introduced Zhuang Mingxiang to him: “Ting Ge’er, this is… your mother…”
When she uttered the word “mother,” her voice inevitably softened.
Yet this matter had to be addressed. Not only would silence wound Zhuang Mingxiang’s heart, but she had already been married into the household for seven years, had given birth to Rui Ge’er, and was now carrying another child in her womb. She was firmly established as the marquise.
Everyone in Jingcheng knew of this. If Ting Ge’er refused to accept it, what would others say about him?
After all, Zhuang Mingxiang had only met her son after the passing of his former wife, Lady Tang, and married into the household the following year. She had done nothing wrong and had never mistreated Ting Ge’er.
Even Old Madam felt apprehensive about this, let alone Marquis Changping, Zhuang Mingxiang, and Zhuang Hui, who was hiding behind Zhuang Mingxiang. Seven years ago, Zhao Changting had stormed out of the house in anger. Would he now turn hostile in a fit of rage?
Thus, Zhuang Mingxiang quickly interjected, “Alright, alright, the autumn heat is still intense. Let’s head inside first!”
As soon as she spoke, Zhao Changting’s tense expression softened slightly.
Relieved that he did not have to address her with a title he was unwilling to use, he nodded and responded with a measure of courtesy, “Yes.”
Even this small gesture left the others stunned. Old Madam held his hand, her own trembling with emotion, while Marquis Changping incredulously rubbed his ears, wondering if he had misheard.
Being a stepmother was never easy. Zhuang Mingxiang had never expected Zhao Changting to call her “mother.” For him to respond to her without showing displeasure was, in her eyes, a form of acceptance—and that was enough!
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she quickly turned away, leading the way inside while urging the others to follow.
Zhuang Hui was also surprised. Although the book had only briefly mentioned it without going into detail, Zhao Changting deeply despised his stepmother, Zhuang Mingxiang. He had ruined two marriage proposals for his stepsister and kept her confined by his side—clear evidence of his animosity.
Yet, just now, he had not lost his temper.
Was there a discrepancy between the book’s plot and reality, or… was he pretending?
Afraid of drawing Zhao Changting’s attention, Zhuang Hui dared not scrutinize his expression too closely and could only ponder this in her mind.
Lunch was served in the flower hall of Old Madam’s Fushou Hall.
Currently, only the eldest and fourth branches of the Changping Marquisate resided in the estate. Since Marquis Changping Zhao Chengping had no concubines, the eldest branch consisted of him and his wife Zhuang Mingxiang, his children with his late wife Lady Tang—Zhao Changting and Zhao Jingzhi—and Zhao Changrui, the five-year-old son he had with his second wife Zhuang Mingxiang, as well as Zhuang Hui, whom Zhuang Mingxiang had brought into the household.
Influenced by his elder brother, Fourth Master Zhao Chengjian also had no concubines. Thus, the fourth branch included only him, his wife Lady Min, and their two sons—thirteen-year-old Zhao Changyun and eleven-year-old Zhao Chang’an.
With such a small household, only one table was set for lunch.
Old Madam naturally took the seat of honor. To her left sat Marquis Changping, followed by Fourth Master, then Zhao Changting, Zhao Changyun, Zhao Chang’an, and Zhao Changrui.
To her right sat Zhuang Mingxiang, then Fourth Madame, and next should have been Zhuang Hui.
However, sitting there would place her directly opposite Zhao Changting. So, Zhuang Hui pulled Zhao Jingzhi over and had her sit in front instead.
Zhao Jingzhi found this odd and was about to ask why when she looked up and saw Zhao Changting already seated across from her.
Immediately, she flashed her elder brother a bright smile, forgetting her question, and happily took her seat.
From the main gate to Fushou Hall, the siblings had already reunited along the way. In Zhao Jingzhi’s heart, her elder brother was not only handsome and capable but also affectionate and kind toward her. At this moment, she adored him more than ever.
During lunch, Zhao Changting wasn’t particularly warm, but he didn’t show a cold face either. Whether it was the Old Madam speaking to him, Fourth Master and Fourth Madame, or even later when Marquis Changping spoke to him, he responded—though his tone remained somewhat aloof.
The dishes served for lunch, especially those placed directly in front of him, were all his favorites from when he lived at home. As a result, the atmosphere during the meal remained relatively harmonious.
This was what Zhuang Hui sensed, for even after changing seats, she was still sitting diagonally across from Zhao Changting. Whenever he looked up, he could see her directly, so she kept her head lowered throughout the entire meal, not daring to raise it.
Even so, over the course of the meal, she noticed from the corner of her eye that Zhao Changting glanced at her several times.
It truly made her heart flutter with anxiety. She feared that Zhao Changting, already deeply in love with Wang Li, might take one look at her and decide to keep her by his side as a substitute.
But even as she thought this, she couldn’t help but despise him.
If he had the courage, why not strive to make Wang Li fall in love with him?
What kind of love is seeking a substitute? That isn’t love—it’s an insult to the very word!
Frightened and angry, Zhuang Hui channeled her frustration into her appetite. While everyone else at the table was preoccupied with their own thoughts, she kept eating, to the point where she ended up feeling a bit overstuffed.
Finally, when lunch was over, Zhao Jingzhi insisted on personally escorting Zhao Changting to his quarters. Seizing the opportunity, Zhuang Hui slipped back to her own Lanyuan. However, feeling rather full, she took a leisurely stroll along the veranda in the courtyard to aid her digestion.
At the same time, she pondered how she could best avoid Zhao Changting going forward.
This was ancient times, and they were in a marquis’s household. Both she and Zhao Changting were of age, and with the strict separation between men and women, avoiding him shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, Zhao Changting likely wouldn’t come to pay respects to her mother every day, nor would they share meals together regularly.
As for the Old Madam, Zhao Changting had been appointed to an official position and would surely be occupied with his duties. She could simply adjust the timing of her visits to avoid him.
Usually, it was Zhao Jingzhi who came to find her. As long as she didn’t seek out Zhao Jingzhi, she wouldn’t run into him there.
Then there was the family meal held every ten days at the Old Madam’s residence. This was unavoidable. If she consistently skipped it, not only would the Old Madam and Marquis Changping likely take issue, but her mother would also struggle to understand why she was being so unreasonable.
But during these family gatherings, she could simply leave immediately after the meal with her mother, which should help her avoid him.
So unless Zhao Changting went completely mad and attempted to kidnap her by sneaking into her Lanyuan at night, she should be safe as long as she avoided him diligently and found a way to marry early.
Thinking this, Zhuang Hui finally felt a bit more at ease.
Nevertheless, she resolved to find a way to ask Zhuang Mingxiang to assign her two maids or older women skilled in martial arts. She didn’t expect them to defeat Zhao Changting—just to ensure he couldn’t abduct her without anyone noticing.
After all, Zhao Changting was the heir to the marquisate, with a bright future ahead of him. Surely he wouldn’t be so utterly deranged.
…
When Zhao Changting left home years ago, he was already twelve years old. However, his mother, Lady Tang, had passed away when he was ten, so he hadn’t yet moved to the outer courtyard at that time. Instead, he lived in a separate courtyard in the rear courtyard—Jingyuan.
Now that he had returned, he was well past the age when he should have moved to the outer courtyard. But since no one knew his preferences, and neither the Old Madam nor Marquis Changping had mentioned it, Zhuang Mingxiang, as his stepmother, felt it wasn’t her place to decide. Thus, Jingyuan was prepared for him once again.
Zhao Jingzhi led Zhao Changting into Jingyuan. Seeing the flowers, plants, and trees in the courtyard, all clean and tidy, she instinctively spoke up for Zhuang Mingxiang: “Mother knew you were coming back and had the servants clean and tidy up long ago. Look, Big Brother—isn’t the courtyard just like when you lived here before? All these years, Mother has had the servants keep it this way.”
Apart from the cherry tree he and his mother had planted together, which had grown much larger, the other flowers and plants seemed about the same size as he remembered. The courtyard was also spotless, as if someone had been living there all along.
His stepmother had indeed put in effort.
But was it perhaps too much effort?
“What did you call her?” he asked Zhao Jingzhi.
His tone wasn’t particularly stern, but perhaps his expression was unpleasant, or maybe Zhao Jingzhi thought of something, because her smile immediately froze. She whispered, “I called her… Mother.”
Zhao Changting was displeased—they only had one mother.
But seeing his sister’s visibly frightened expression, what came out of his mouth was: “Has she treated you well all these years?”
Zhao Jingzhi knew Zhuang Mingxiang wasn’t her birth mother; no one in the family had hidden that from her.
But she had lost her mother when she was two. When she was four, Marquis Changping married Zhuang Mingxiang, who brought along Zhuang Hui, five years older than her. Hearing Zhuang Hui call Zhuang Mingxiang “Mother,” and thinking of how her two cousins from the fourth branch also had mothers, she felt envious.
Zhuang Mingxiang was beautiful, gentle, and smelled lovely. She really wanted a mother like that too.
So she asked her grandmother if she could also call Zhuang Mingxiang “Mother.”
She still remembered how her grandmother had sighed first, then smiled and said, “Of course you can.”
And so she called Zhuang Mingxiang “Mother” and Zhuang Hui “Sister,” and had been doing so for seven years.
“She treated me very well—in every aspect of life, clothing, food, shelter, and travel. When I was eight, I once had a high fever that lasted three days and nights without subsiding. Grandmother was too old to endure it, so she was afraid the servants wouldn’t be attentive enough and personally watched over me for three days and nights. After I recovered, she collapsed.” Even Grandmother said that her stepmother treated her no differently than a birth mother would.
But Zhao Jingzhi didn’t dare say this to her big brother.
Zhao Changting, however, thought: His stepmother had married his father when his sister A Zhi was four.
By the time his sister was eight, she had been in the Zhao family for four years. By then, she had already given birth to Zhao Changrui and firmly established herself in the Zhao household. She no longer needed to put on an act.
Or even if she was acting, to have acted for so long and so well was already… admirable.
Zhao Changting fell silent for a moment, then forced a smile for his sister: “That’s good.”