Speaking of Sister Lan, she was truly a pitiful girl.
Shortly after giving birth to her, Madam Ning fell ill with a lung disease and was bedridden, unable to care for her daughter herself. That harsh winter, when Madam Ning passed away, Sister Lan was barely over four years old.
After Madam Ning’s death, Sister Lan was raised by her grandmother.
By then, Sister Lian was just turning ten. She had grown sensible and mature, fully aware that their mother was gone, and she doted all the more on her younger sister, Sister Lan.
When Sister Lan fell ill at six, coughing for months without relief, Sister Lian was deeply worried. Afraid her sister might succumb just like their mother, Lian stayed by her side day and night, feeding her medicine, coaxing her to sleep, adding layers of clothing to keep her warm.
By the time Sister Lan recovered, Sister Lian had grown gaunt and thin—a visible testament to the depth of her care and sisterly devotion.
The elder sister became like a mother to her, and Sister Lan always looked to Lian as her only support in the count’s household.
Thinking of all this, Sister Lan cried even harder, hidden away in her room.
Outside the door, maids and attendants tried to comfort and advise her, but it was no use.
In the courtyard, guests celebrating the wedding drank, laughed, and reveled—yet this side wing of the household felt lonely and cold in stark contrast.
The slanting rays of the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting light across Sister Lan’s tear-streaked face, her eyes swollen from crying. She murmured, “From now on, if I fall ill, no one will care whether I live or die…” She hugged her quilt tightly, curling into a corner of the bed like a wounded kitten.
The attending maid could not soothe her, so she went to find someone for help.
She encountered Madam Lin and reported the situation: “Madam, the Second Miss is crying in her room, refusing to come out.” She described the scene in detail.
“This girl is unlike her elder sister; she cannot keep a single thought to herself,” Madam Lin said, understanding her stepdaughter’s feelings. “If I go there now, seeing me might make her angrier, crying even harder… You should go report this to the matriarch; perhaps she can persuade her.”
Being a stepmother was no easy task.
“Yes, Madam.”
After a moment, Madam Lin added: “Sister Lan often visits the Feng Yu Pavilion. After you speak to the matriarch, go there once more. Ask Aunt Shen and Bamboo Girl to accompany you and try to coax her.”
“Yes, Madam.”
After the maid left, Madam Lin still felt uneasy. She thought a moment, then instructed Nurse Shen: “Go to the kitchen and have some warm food prepared, ready to send immediately when Sister Lan opens the door. Also, prepare a medicinal bath to soothe her; we cannot have her crying herself into illness.”
Once everything was arranged, she returned to entertain the visiting noblewomen.
Meanwhile, young Master Pei Shaohuai had returned from the wedding procession. Upon hearing about his second sister, he sighed deeply.
He knew that losing her support left Sister Lan heartbroken, which was inevitable. If others’ advice couldn’t help her, the one who could had just married and would not return for three days even for a visit.
So, the only option was to let her cry freely and process her emotions until she calmed down on her own.
In the original story, Sister Lan was often described as “stubborn and capricious,” spoiled with all the habits of a young noble lady—quick to show joy or anger, always acting without thinking.
Whether this was due to her lack of upbringing, her environment, or her innate temperament, she never learned to hide her emotions like Sister Lian. Instead, she wore her heart on her sleeve, speaking and acting without restraint—thus “stubborn.” She followed her own sense of right, doing as she pleased—thus “capricious.” She pursued what she liked blindly, as if drawn by instinct, heedless of consequences.
Such a temperament, in the story, naturally led to a poor outcome.
After her elder sister’s marriage, Sister Lan felt emptier and lonelier than ever, constantly scanning the household for anyone who cared for her, but finding none. She was alone and desolate. She loved reading romantic tales, envying the tragic love stories of scholar-girls, and as she grew older, her heart stirred with desires. She longed to meet a gentle, talented scholar who would treasure her, a lifelong partner.
These desires left her vulnerable to exploitation.
Later, Sister Lan secretly met a scholar from a humble family. The scholar was unscrupulous and cunning, scheming to attach himself to the noble household. He anticipated that the family might try to silence him. On one hand, Sister Lan cried and demanded to marry him, promising to share hardship; on the other, the scholar threatened with his reputation, leaving no room for refusal. In the end, the count’s household reluctantly put together a dowry and quietly married her off.
As with all walls, news spread. The Count Jingchuan’s household became the laughingstock of the capital once more.
Initially, her grandmother cared for her, and with help from her maternal family, Sister Lan lived a few relatively peaceful years, even giving birth to a daughter.
Eventually, the count’s household declined: their title was revoked, property depleted, security gone. Without her original support, Sister Lan’s hardships began in earnest.
Her husband repeatedly failed exams, wasted money on drinking and gambling, and vented his frustrations on her with beatings and insults, calling her a jinx. Her mother-in-law despised her for not bearing a son, constantly persecuted her, and made her and her daughter act as servants. The household concubines saw her low status and took advantage, humiliating her.
Previously, Sister Lan had been fierce in her own household, but among farmers’ wives and concubines, she lacked the cunning to survive. If not for her daughter, she might have given up entirely.
All of this came from her earlier defiance—it was her own doing. She had no one to confide in but her elder sister, so she endured in silence, trying to keep up appearances whenever Lian visited.
By the time Brother Jin returned from his studies and, with their elder sister, rescued her, Sister Lan had long lost hope. The spark that once shone in her eyes was gone.
Alas—
Little Master Pei Shaohuai sighed again. Orchids, elegant and serene, require careful tending to thrive.
They rely entirely on the care of their gardeners.
Such delicate flowers cannot withstand the harshness and filth of the world.
Shaohuai felt pity for Sister Lan and frustration at her recklessness and lack of self-respect.
If he could go back, he couldn’t promise to give her the perfect match, but he could promise to do his utmost to prevent her from repeating the mistakes of the original story, marrying the wrong man.
Shaohuai did not deny that for Sister Lian, he had selfish motives—he knew the Xu family had potential, and future brother-in-law Xu Zhan had great prospects, which might be useful in the future.
But he decided to help Sister Lan out of compassion—not because he liked her temperament, but because he couldn’t bear it. He had been cherished by his own parents and lived happily; Sister Lan had lost her mother early and lacked love.
He could not bear to see her suffer.
Counting with his small hands, he calculated: Elder sister Lian was seventeen at marriage; Sister Lan was eleven. In a few years, that worthless scholar would appear. He needed to watch closely.
Meanwhile, in the back wing, with persuasion from the grandmother and Aunt Shen, Sister Lan finally cried herself out and opened the door at nightfall.
The subsequent trivial matters need not be described.
Three days later, Xu Zhan and Pei Ruo Lian returned to visit.
Ruo Lian’s hair was neatly coiled into a woman’s style, her cheeks flushed, a touch of maturity added to her face.
Sister Lan saw her elder sister again and almost leapt into her arms, beaming. Though only three days had passed, it felt as if three years had gone by.
The family recalled the wedding day and the “bridal block” incident with the two younger brothers. When Xu Zhan learned that the congratulatory riddle had been created by the two little brothers themselves, he was astonished. For their age, he asked, “These two young brothers can already read?”
“Besides reading, they’ve memorized some stories and poems,” Pei Bingyuan proudly answered. “Both love books, so we and their father taught them some basics.”
Xu Zhan exclaimed, “Born scholars indeed. In ten or so years, these two young brothers will surely achieve great things.”
The Pei family rejoiced.
After the midday feast, Ruo Lian and Ruo Lan visited Chaolu Courtyard to speak with Madam Lin.
Ruo Lian bowed, saying, “Your daughter sends her regards, Mother.”
Sister Lan followed half-heartedly, squatting briefly. Ruo Lian tugged her sleeve, and only then did she look down and reluctantly say, “I send my regards, Mother.”
Madam Lin, aware of Sister Lan’s peculiar temper, smiled and said, “Alright, both good children.”
Ruo Lian came to thank Madam Lin for arranging her coming-of-age ceremony, dowry, and wedding, to discuss her life as a new wife, and seek advice.
At the end, a maid brought a finely carved sandalwood box. Ruo Lian said, “Mother, this is a Taohe inkstone from the northwest, brought by my husband. Since my brother has begun learning to read, he asked me to bring it for him.”
Madam Lin, from a merchant family, knew the reputation of Taozhou green stone and recognized its value. Such gifts from a scholarly household were meaningful, showing sincere respect.
“Young Master hasn’t even started writing yet. Why give him this?” she demurred. “Even when he does write, he shouldn’t damage such a precious object.”
“Brother will need it in the future,” Ruo Lian said. “This is from my husband. Among scholars, gifts like this carry deep meaning. You must accept it.”
It related to scholarly fortune. Madam Lin received it with joy.
Leaving Chaolu Courtyard, the sisters walked together.
Ruo Lian scolded her sister: “You’re not a child anymore. You should know better. You should behave properly, yet you still act like a little girl.”
“I don’t see why I should,” Sister Lan muttered. “She didn’t give birth to me or raise me. Why should I call her Mother? My mother is gone.”
Tears welled up again.
Ruo Lian softened her tone: “It’s just a title, not that you truly consider her mother. Our mother’s fortune was limited; she had no hand in this. Why should she bear your anger? Everything she has done since marrying into this household, through my marriage, has been beyond proper duty. Lan’er, no one in this world owes you goodness. She treats us well, so we should be grateful and think how to repay her.”
“I didn’t ask her to treat me well,” Sister Lan said stubbornly. “Jiao Jiao said no stepmother in the world is good.”
Ruo Lian’s words could not persuade her.
“I want nothing from her. It’s not a dowry I care for, only someone to treat me sincerely, to keep me close to heart. Who cares about the dowry?”
Ruo Lian stopped, looking at her sister with a stern expression: “You won’t even listen to me now? I once thought you were merely headstrong, but now your words and actions are completely thoughtless. If you refuse to heed me, then don’t call me your elder sister anymore.”
Sister Lan, having never seen her sister so angry, dared not speak back.