After the Mid-Autumn Festival, the wind in the estate outside Yanjing City turned cool.
Through the small window lattice, one could still see wild geese returning south during the day, but by night, only scattered stars adorned the window frame.
Occasionally, glow-worms entangled outside with fragmented light, or crickets chirped intermittently, all seeming rather listless.
Even more dispirited than the crickets was the maid A Chi, who stood holding a lamp. Guarding the candle flame, she sighed once again.
The woman sitting by the window, holding a grinding stone, suddenly laughed:
“The cricket outside sounds weak because it failed to find a mate. What sorrow brings you such sighs?”
A Chi wanted to sigh again but stifled it halfway: “Miss, I heard from the people in the mansion that the young master is returning.”
Looking around, A Chi walked to the window and closed it, then glanced at another maid stationed in the outer room and said:
“Go fetch hot water for the Second Young Mistress to wash up.”
After the other maid left, A Chi turned around and saw her mistress still sitting by the window, calmly dipping her fingers in water to continue grinding the blue paste. She couldn’t help but sigh again:
“Oh, my dear miss, it’s not that A Chi wants to speak out of turn, but the Xie family didn’t even mention letting you return for Mid-Autumn Festival. This time when the young master returns, I’m afraid he’ll bring that Miss Feng back with him.”
After saying this, A Chi nearly shed tears of grievance for her mistress. Her mistress was Shen Shiqing, the only daughter of the late Grand Secretary Shen Shao, who had been treasured like pearls since childhood. To be precise, if not for the sudden passing of the master, the mistress falling gravely ill, unreliable uncles, and the maternal uncle being far away, she wouldn’t have been betrothed to the Xie family’s second young master, Xie Feng’an, before even reaching adulthood, hastily marrying into the family within the hundred-day mourning period while still wearing mourning garments.
Who could have imagined that the Marquis of Ning’an, despite his fine words—promising to treat her mistress as his own daughter since he had received her father’s care, and vowing to comfort her parents’ spirits during the New Year—was merely seeking a good reputation.
From the moment she married, the young mistress carried double mourning for both parents. By the time the mourning period ended, she had barely met her husband twice. For seven whole years, from age fifteen to twenty-two, A Chi had accompanied her mistress in the deep chambers of the Marquis of Ning’an’s residence, watching her grow into her full height and shed the innocence in her eyes, while also witnessing her live each day with the detachment of a nun. In contrast, Xie Feng’an took concubine after concubine under the pretext of needing heirs.
While her mistress slept alone in her bed every night, there were already five or six children outside her courtyard calling him father!
The prestigious House of Ning’an boasted of being a family of scholars—what kind of principle was it to leave the principal wife neglected like this? What kind of household was this? And what kind of scholarly tradition did they follow?
Even if all this could barely be endured, this year in Jinyang, a Miss Feng suddenly appeared. After careful inquiry, A Chi learned that Xie Feng’an and his maternal cousin, Miss Feng, had been childhood sweethearts. Their families were about to arrange a marriage when the Marquis of Ning’an suddenly made him marry their Shen family daughter.
Miss Feng had previously married a fifth-rank military officer. Last year, the officer was dismissed for failing in his defense duties and passed away a few months later. Widowed, Miss Feng had now captured the heart of the Xie young master again. A Chi had always felt that the concubines bore some resemblance—it turned out they all looked like that Miss Feng.
Her young mistress had been living quite peacefully in the manor. Though she rarely exchanged words with the Xie Family’s second young master, she never missed her morning and evening respects to both her mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law. The Xie Family’s madam often scolded her own son for not knowing how to cherish his wife. Yet when her son caused a scandal with her sister’s daughter, the first thing this usually rule-bound, chaste-mouthed Lady of the Manor did was to make her young mistress claim illness and retreat to the estate, not even allowing her to return for the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Calculating it all, the Xie Family had essentially deceived their girl into living a widow’s life while her husband still lived!
“A father without virtue, a son without shame—they’ve utterly wasted our young lady’s entire life!” Furious beyond measure, A Chi cursed these words.
Shen Shiqing sat upright by the window, quietly watching the blue stone powder being ground finer and finer on her water-milled stone plate. Her hand moved the ceramic pestle in steady, circular motions.
She wore a furnace-red silver short jacket with a white horse-face skirt patterned with flowering branches. Aside from a white jade bead hairpin on a silver stem in her hair, she had no other adornments. Sitting there, she resembled a tranquil, elegant painting of a noble lady.
The brilliant blue gradually spread evenly before her, as if borrowed from the clear azure of an autumn sky.
“Rather than spending time angry, go fetch the urn. This pigment needs another round of purification. Huiyi Workshop’s product is truly unclean—I always have to soak off the glue and regrind it. After the First Blue dries again tomorrow, we can remix it with glue for use.”
A Chi wanted to say more but went to retrieve the fine porcelain urn. Passing through the outer chamber, she saw a young maid bringing in water. Stealing a moment to wipe her eyes away from others, she returned to the inner room after a while.
Shen Shiqing stood up, carefully poured the stone blue she had ground all night into the urn, and added clear water. After stirring, the water grew murkier. She poured out the slightly whitish, darkish water, leaving only the vibrant blue settled at the bottom—this was the most dazzling First Blue in stone blue pigment making. As for the suspended particles in the water, those were the Second Blue and Third Blue.
Inspecting it carefully against the light, she nodded in satisfaction.
“From now on, let’s buy pigments from Lengjia Studio. Their stone blue and cinnabar are much more pleasant to use, sparing us this cleanup.”
A Chi’s eyes reddened again.
Everyone in Ning’an Lord Manor knew the second young mistress was like a celestial being—aloof, unversed in worldly affairs, spending her days solely on poetry and painting, like a lantern hung high under the eaves.
She had also overheard gossip in the manor: how could a delicate flower like her young mistress understand marital harmony? No wonder the second young master refused to even enter Reed Catkin Courtyard.
As the daughter of a Grand Secretary and the second young mistress of Ning’an Lord Manor, should she really learn the seductive arts to captivate a man?
But now, circumstances might force her hand.
Already sent away from the manor to this estate, if things continued and that Feng family girl were to officially enter the household, there might soon be no place left for her young mistress in the vast Lord Manor.
Having washed her hands and face, Shen Shiqing sat in her carved chair rinsing her mouth when she saw A Chi carefully kneel before her.
“Miss, perhaps… perhaps we should return to the Lord Manor and seek out the Xie Family’s Madam. Tell her you’re willing to accept that Feng family cousin into the household—settling her as a concubine with proper status would be better than the current situation… I don’t think the young master is particularly steadfast anyway. Once his passion for Miss Feng fades, we can reconsider our approach. As the saying goes, without proper status comes improper conduct. If you’re willing to compromise slightly and firmly secure your position, everything else can be handled gradually.”
“Fades?” Shen Shiqing lowered her gaze, her tone light yet carrying the cool clarity of a mountain spring. “And what then? There will always be new women who capture his passionate attention. Should I keep welcoming them in one after another? That sounds rather splendid—I’d make an excellent matchmaker indeed.”
Clutching her mistress’s legs, A Chi pleaded urgently: “Please don’t be angry, Miss.”
“Why would I be angry with you? I know you mean well. You, Chui Yun, Tu Nan, and Pei Feng—all four of you accompanied me when I married into this Ning’an Lord Manor, naturally planning everything for my benefit. But I, Shen Shiqing, refuse to live a life of forced smiles, competing for favor while watching a man’s moods. What I refused in the past, I shall refuse in the future.”
With a composed expression, Shen Shiqing reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“The Xie Family married me, the last descendant of the Shen household. Even if they divorce me, they wouldn’t dare treat me poorly openly, if only for appearances’ sake. That’s enough for me.”
Shen Shiqing possessed remarkably pure white skin, with long, dark eyebrows and profound pupils that often carried a subtle melancholy when she looked at others, as if concealing countless unspoken sorrows and quiet resentments.
As lamplight flickered, she comforted softly: “A Chi, I’m managing well enough for now.”
A Chi wept silently: “How can you say that? The Xie Family servants are all opportunists. Seeing you haven’t returned to the main residence, they’ve become completely unruly—no one even bothers with night patrol duties anymore. Tu Nan and Pei Feng have to organize the watches themselves. And this is only after little over a month! If this continues, I fear you’ll suffer even greater indignities. Had we known it would come to this, we should have just acknowledged the son born to Consort An back then…”
Shen Shiqing patted her shoulder, stopping her from continuing.
What use dwelling on the past? One must live in the present, not look backward.
“A Chi, perhaps I should arrange a marriage for you too.”
The kneeling maid nearly wrinkled her skirt in surprise: “Miss?”
“When Chui Yun married, her husband He Changxuan was still a common scholar. Now people call her ‘Madam Provincial Graduate.’ She was born in the year of the rat, four years your senior. We can’t delay your matter any longer.”
This wasn’t a sudden whim. Xie Feng’an had been staying in Jinyang for months under the pretext of scholarly travels, while the Xie Family Madam had abruptly changed her attitude—something must have happened. Last year, after the border victory, Miss Feng’s father was promoted to third-rank Guangwu Guard Commander. Why would he consent to his daughter being a concubine? Yet they hadn’t sent Xie Feng’an back to Yanjing promptly… likely because of some unspeakable circumstance. Perhaps that Feng girl was already pregnant. But if pregnant, why not urgently enter Ning’an Lord Manor? The Feng family was deliberately making the Xie Family wait, forcing them to offer the position of Second Young Madam.
And what of her? She had married into the Xie Family at fifteen—seven years now. The mere accusation of “failure to produce an heir” would leave her without defense.
While she still held the position of Second Young Madam in Ning’an Lord Manor, her maid could still marry respectably. Once she truly became the “discarded wife” confined to this estate, her maid would likely find it difficult to marry well.
Watching her stare fixedly at herself, tears finally rolled down A Chi’s cheeks:
“My lady, please, think more of yourself!”
By the afternoon of the next day, the freshly prepared First Blue pigment had just been mixed with oil glue when people from Ning’an Lord Manor arrived.
A cartload of burly matrons.
“Second Young Mistress, the Old Madam has been unwell these past few days and dreamed of the late Lord again at night. The Madam says all the women of the household must copy sutras to offer before the Buddha, praying for the Old Madam’s recovery.”
Seeing these people actually bring dozens of sutra scrolls for their lady to copy, the maids around Shen Shiqing turned ashen-faced.
Shen Shiqing remained unperturbed, then heard the steward add, “Second Young Mistress, the Madam also said that to show your sincerity to the Bodhisattva, you must kneel in the ancestral hall to chant and copy the sutras.”
This time, Shen Shiqing said nothing.
Several matrons lined up to “escort” her to the prayer hall. A few maids rushed forward to intervene but were stopped by her sharp glance.
Inside the prayer hall, there was only one cushion and an incense table, upon which sat a bronze Buddha statue.
Shen Shiqing knelt on the ground, her body seemingly soaked through with cold.
The matrons guarding her had slipped away somewhere to laze off. Slowly, she raised her head and saw incense ash drifting down from the table—another stick had burned out.
Outside the window, a few insect chirps and a distant star.
She stared blankly for a moment, then raised her hand and pulled out the hairpin from her bun. The jade bead at its tip was round and luminous, like another full moon cupped in her palm.
The pin’s shaft felt uneven—several characters were engraved upon it.
—“Virtue and Kindness Are Paramount.”
These four words were not just carved on the hairpin; they had long been etched into her heart.
“Virtue and kindness are paramount. I have followed this path to this point, only to realize with dread that there is no escape.”
From retreating from Ning’an Lord Manor to the estate, and now to this prayer hall—in all the vast world, she had nowhere left to retreat.
With a desolate smile, she aimed the hairpin’s tip at her shoulder and stabbed down fiercely.