Zhao Mingyan politely nodded to Uncle Chen, then turned and obediently followed Nan Yan into the inner courtyard.
The Nan residence was not large—first, a front yard where the servants lived, and a reception hall, then, through a carved flower gate, into the inner quarters.
The closer they drew to the inner courtyard, the more anxious Zhao Mingyan felt.
Heaven and Earth, how had her fate entangled her with Nan Yan, a man notorious for having a fierce wife?
Just recalling the tales of Madam Wang made her heart pound like a drum, rising and falling in panic. She feared she might not even live out the lifespan she had in her previous life—perhaps she would lose her pitiful little life on the very first day she entered this household.
At that moment, a brisk middle-aged woman’s voice rang out, “Nan Yan, you’re back.”
No sooner had the words fallen than the clucking of a chicken echoed.
From the kitchen burst a large hen, its neck half-severed, head lolling grotesquely, blood spraying as it flapped toward them. Each beat of its wings sent another spurt of crimson from the torn flesh, its dangling head swinging wildly from chest to side, shrieking in ghastly rhythm.
Zhao Mingyan had never seen such a sight. She froze, horrified, as the bloodied bird hurtled toward her—until someone pulled her into a protective embrace just in time. A familiar scent of pine wrapped her in safety.
All she could see was Nan Yan’s face, his brows drawn tight with a trace of tension.
The hen gave a final squawk before being seized.
“Frightened you, didn’t it? Don’t be afraid—I’ll finish it off right now.” The hearty voice sounded again.
Zhao Mingyan turned to see a woman of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, in the prime of her beauty, holding the chicken in one hand and a cleaver in the other. Right before their eyes, she raised the blade and, with two swift chops, severed the head completely.
“There, it won’t scare you anymore. Later I’ll stew it for you—eat your fill and calm your nerves!”
Zhao Mingyan swallowed hard at the sight.
The woman turned back toward the kitchen, but halfway she paused, as if suddenly remembering something. She glanced at Zhao Mingyan, still sheltered in Nan Yan’s arms, and her gaze fixed in surprise.
“Wait—who are you?” she asked, suspicion clouding her eyes.
At last, the question from the legitimate wife. Zhao Mingyan’s already unsettled heart thudded wildly. Yet she knew this moment was inevitable. Drawing a deep breath, she prepared to kneel before Madam Wang, to show her stance clearly: she was only a concubine brought in from outside, and from now on, she would never defy Madam Wang, always yielding to her authority, no matter the rules.
She was no noble lady, no future wife of a marquis’s heir. She was the daughter of a disgraced official, a courtesan from the Pleasure Bureau. She had no right to cling to lofty ideals of virtue or propriety.
A person must recognize their station. To act beyond one’s place, whether in stubborn pride or misplaced righteousness, led only to ruin.
Zhao Mingyan’s greatest strength was her ability to accept her circumstances swiftly—never posturing like the rest of the Zhao family.
It must be said—the first few days after the Zhao women were sent to the Pleasure Bureau were their best chance of escape. During that time, enemies of the Zhao family or former acquaintances would inevitably come to gawk or mock, sometimes to amuse themselves. Yet it was precisely then that the women had the greatest chance of meeting a benefactor who might take them out.
Once they had stayed longer, once they had lived as official courtesans for some time, the novelty wore off. By then, hoping for a man to rescue them became nearly impossible.
But that digression aside—at this moment, Zhao Mingyan had already steadied her heart. She was determined to leave a good impression on her future mistress. She meant to kneel, bow, and knock her head to the ground in respect. Before she could act, however, a voice spoke first:
“Shuangniang, her name is Mingyan. From now on, she will serve at my side. She is gentle and timid—you must not allow anyone to bully her.”
The words made Zhao Mingyan’s heart leap into her throat. Good heavens! This old man truly dared to speak so boldly!
To say such a thing in front of his own wife—either he did not care if she lived, or he did not care if he himself lived. Wasn’t Madam Wang known for her jealousy and fiery temper? How could Nan Yan dare to speak like this?
Zhao Mingyan’s legs nearly gave way.
At that moment, Madam Wang’s voice drifted across, layered with meaning. First came a long, drawn-out “Oh…”
Then she studied Zhao Mingyan closely. “My, my. What a delicate little beauty.”
Hearing this, Zhao Mingyan’s knees went weak entirely. She had to kowtow—indeed, she did. Pushing Nan Yan aside, she dropped to her knees before Madam Wang. That old man was unreliable; for all his calm and mature appearance, he was leading her straight to ruin!
He had no idea that a concubine must live quietly and cautiously if she wished to survive. Had this been the Marquis Xuanping’s household, if Chen Xingwei dared speak so recklessly, she would have been dead by nightfall—without even knowing whose hand had struck the blow.
She staggered, about to kneel, but a soft embrace caught her first.
Madam Wang, still clutching a chicken in one hand and a cleaver in the other, was quick enough to steady her. “You really are timid and frail—delicate as a willow branch. Looks like you’ve never eaten your fill since childhood, collapsing at the slightest touch! Later, I’ll stew this chicken. You must eat plenty and nourish yourself properly!”
Zhao Mingyan: “…”
Madam Wang then turned to Nan Yan and spat, “Shameless man! She’s young enough to be your daughter, and yet you dare lay hands on her! Don’t expect to eat the chicken I stew tonight!”
Nan Yan: “…”
Zhao Mingyan glanced at him and saw, to her surprise, a flicker of embarrassment in the eyes of this usually composed, solemn man. It seemed Madam Wang’s words had struck home, leaving him truly ashamed.
With a look, Madam Wang signaled Nan Yan to help Zhao Mingyan stand. “Enough. You two go inside first. I’ll call you when the meal is ready.”
Watching Madam Wang carry the chicken back toward the kitchen, Zhao Mingyan quickly said, “Madam, let me go with you.”
Madam Wang paused, eyeing her. “Do you know how to kill a chicken or cook?”
A trace of unease crossed Zhao Mingyan’s face, but she answered firmly, “I don’t—but I can learn. Even if I can’t do it well, I can still help Madam with the chores.”
For a concubine, survival depended on the mistress of the household, not the master.
Her elder sister, Zhao Mingzhu, had been foolish. After entering the Marquis of Xuanping’s household, she clung desperately to Chen Xingwei, believing his favor would let her challenge the authority of the legitimate wife, Madam Cai. In her past life, it had seemed she succeeded—but in truth, Zhao Mingyan had borne the brunt of every confrontation.
Zhao Mingzhu enjoyed romance and indulgence, while the family’s resentment was vented upon Zhao Mingyan. Without her, Zhao Mingzhu would never have lasted.
As for Zhao Mingyan herself—had she not once been Chen Xingwei’s betrothed, had she been only an ordinary concubine—she might have found a way to survive under Madam Cai.
Madam Cai had even said more than once, “Zhao Mingyan is sensible. I don’t wish to punish her. But she bears the Zhao name—she is still that wretch’s sister.”
Yes, she was a Zhao. She had once been engaged to Chen Xingwei, nearly the rightful wife of Marquis Xuanping’s heir. That alone meant Madam Cai could never tolerate her. And with Zhao Mingzhu constantly scheming to rival her, Zhao Mingyan had no path to survival, no matter how well she behaved.
Fortunately, in this life, she had chosen a different road.
Now, as Madam Wang headed to the kitchen, Nan Yan wanted to take her back to rest.
But that would never do. She had to go. How could the mistress of the house be left to care for the two of them? That would be turning the order of heaven upside down!
Zhao Mingyan was determined—she had to go into the kitchen to help.
Seeing her resolve, Madam Wang let her.
In the kitchen, Zhao Mingyan threw herself into the work. Madam Wang first told her to pluck the chicken’s feathers. This task, however, Zhao Mingyan had never done before. In two lifetimes, she had never once plucked a chicken. Even during her days of suffering in the Marquis Xuanping’s household, she had never been made to do such menial labor.
Yet she neither complained nor hesitated. She bent her head and clumsily followed Madam Wang’s instructions, plucking feather after feather. She worked diligently for a long while, but the progress was slow, and her hands were soon pricked and bloodied by the stiff feathers.
Madam Wang turned and saw her, struggling with only a handful of feathers removed, her delicate hands injured. “Oh heavens, my little lady! Don’t tell me you’ve never killed a chicken or plucked feathers in your life?”
Shame flooded Zhao Mingyan; she wished she could bury her head in the ground. “I’ve never done it before.”
Madam Wang took her soft, pale hand in her own. “Truly a pampered young miss whose fingers have never touched spring water!”
It was true. Only seven days ago, Zhao Mingyan had still been the Zhao family’s cherished daughter. Even after entering the Pleasure Bureau, she had eagerly entertained guests without suffering rough treatment. No wonder her hands remained so tender.
Madam Wang took the chicken from her, dipped it back into hot water, and with a few firm strokes stripped away most of the feathers in no time.
As she worked, she mused aloud, “So, a young lady whose fingers never touched spring water—how did that old fox Nan Yan trick you into coming here?”
Zhao Mingyan: “Madam, my lord did not trick me. He saved me.”
“Stop right there. Don’t call me Madam—it sounds too distant. Just call me Sister Shuang.” Madam Wang looked up at her.
“How could I…”
“Call me Sister Shuang,” Madam Wang said, cheerful but firm.
Zhao Mingyan opened her mouth. “Sister Shuang.”
“That’s better!” Madam Wang broke into a broad smile. “My daughter is only two or three years younger than you. But since Nan Yan brought you here, you must have a place in the family. From now on, we’ll be sisters!”
Zhao Mingyan was stunned. She gazed at the woman deftly handling the chicken, her expression warm and natural. She had always been a keen judge of character, able to sense sincerity or falsehood at once. And she could feel clearly—Madam Wang truly meant what she said. She was nothing like the jealous, shrewish wife of rumor. What was going on?
“By the way, silly girl,” Madam Wang continued, “you said Nan Yan saved you. How did he do it? Tell me the story to pass the time.”
Because of Madam Wang’s earlier words, Zhao Mingyan had already lowered much of her guard. She opened her mouth and told her everything—the truth of her identity, how she had fallen into the Pleasure Bureau, and how Nan Yan had intervened. Of course, she left out the details of how she had entangled herself with him.
Madam Wang listened, sighed deeply, and when she turned back her eyes were full of pity. “Ah, so you’re a fallen young lady. Well, that old fox Nan Yan did a good deed, pulling you out of that pit of fire and water.”
Zhao Mingyan nodded earnestly.
Nan Yan had saved her, and she was sincerely grateful—even if she had paid a price in the process. After all, most men treated women from the Pleasure Bureau as nothing more than playthings.
“My lord is a good man,” Zhao Mingyan said from the heart.
Just then, a voice floated down from above her head. “Nan Yan truly is a good man—the very best sort. Since you’ve spoken honestly, let me share a secret with you.”
Zhao Mingyan looked up and met Madam Wang’s bright eyes.
“What secret?”
Madam Wang smiled, raising her brows. “I was saved by Nan Yan as well!”
Zhao Mingyan was taken aback.
Madam Wang was a forthright woman, but not one to share everything with just anyone. Only because Zhao Mingyan suited her taste—she had watched her carefully, seen that she was neither pretentious nor spoiled, willing to work even at tasks she had never done, and honest in her answers. She was Nan Yan’s chosen, yet showed no arrogance or desire to lord it over others.
Madam Wang might seem rough, but her heart was keen. She could sense goodness at once. And in this girl Nan Yan had brought home today, she saw it clearly: pure-hearted, without malice. She liked her.
Seeing Zhao Mingyan’s surprise, Madam Wang said slowly, “Did you know I was married before?”
Zhao Mingyan nodded truthfully. “I heard of it at home.”
“What did they say about me?”
Zhao Mingyan frowned slightly, then answered tactfully, “My stepmother said you were a country woman, remarried with a daughter, surely bad-tempered and cast off by your husband.”
Then she added earnestly, “But today I see that rumors are only rumors, not to be trusted. Sister Shuang, you are a fine person—frank and upright. To the eyes of the virtuous, you are virtuous; to the eyes of the petty, you are petty. Those who call your frankness ‘rustic’ and your uprightness ‘shrewish’—they are the ones truly at fault.”
Madam Wang burst out laughing. “You little girl really know how to flatter! All that talk of Buddhas and demons—I’ve never even heard such things! No wonder you’re a well-read young lady, even your sweet words sound refined!”
“I’m not flattering you,” Zhao Mingyan replied earnestly, her eyes serious. “I truly mean it. Too many people in this world judge only by appearances, only by the moment, without ever seeking the truth. They criticize others based on their own likes and dislikes. Sister Shuang, you remarried—there must have been reasons. And I believe you must have suffered greatly.”
Madam Wang’s laughter froze on her face. She looked at Zhao Mingyan, her gaze trembling, and after a long pause, sighed. “No wonder, after all these years, Nan Yan has only ever brought one woman home—you.”
Zhao Mingyan was startled and listened as Madam Wang continued.
“You’re right. My second marriage had its reasons. My first husband was a soldier. After he enlisted, I managed the household, served my in-laws, raised his younger siblings, and cared for our daughter. My family had been prosperous merchants, and they gave me a generous dowry. I spent it all supporting his family. Fortunately, that useless man did well in the army—I heard he rose to the rank of commander of a thousand. I thought if he returned, I’d finally see better days.”
Her eyes flared with anger. “But instead of coming home, that scoundrel got himself entangled in a peach-blossom debt. They say he saved some official’s daughter, and she fell for him at first sight, insisting on marrying him. She even sent people to my house demanding I divorce him. My heartless in-laws, seeing his bright future, cast me aside without a second thought.”
“They were too ungrateful!” Zhao Mingyan’s heart burned with indignation at the tale.
How bitter was a woman’s fate—enduring hardship for loyalty and chastity, only to gain nothing in return. What justice was there in that?
“Ha! No need to be angry,” Madam Wang said, finishing plucking the chicken and chopping it into eight neat pieces. “That scoundrel died before he could enjoy his good days—an accident, a sudden death. Heaven has eyes! It wouldn’t let villains prosper.”
Zhao Mingyan: “…”
It was unexpected indeed. Heaven had opened its eyes.
“And they didn’t try to drag you back afterward?”
“Of course they did! Shameless as ever, they wanted me to keep his memory, saying I carried his only bloodline and mustn’t wander outside. Bah! When they threw me and my daughter out, why didn’t they say that then? Too late now!”
“I refused to go back, no matter what. They even tried to snatch us away, claiming no one would want a widow with a child. And then—I met Nan Yan. He needed someone to help raise his children, and we agreed at once. Drove those ingrates mad!”
Zhao Mingyan: “…”
So that was how it was. And indeed, the old man seemed the type to do such a thing.
Madam Wang looked at Zhao Mingyan’s dazed expression and chuckled. “Enough, little sister. You’re still young. In time, you’ll see—Heaven has eyes. Villains can’t dance forever. Good people will always find good days.”
Hearing her words, Zhao Mingyan suddenly felt the world open wide. Yes. She had never done evil in either life. Though her past life was bitter, Heaven had granted her another chance. This time, she would live well. If she worked hard and treated others sincerely, the future would surely brighten.
“Come, help me fetch the cooking wine.”
“All right!” Zhao Mingyan hurried forward to assist.
The two cooked together. Others in the kitchen lent a hand, but Madam Wang explained that she was especially skilled at stir-frying. Since she had taken charge, the kitchen was hers entirely. She promised Zhao Mingyan a taste of her cooking later.
Zhao Mingyan nodded eagerly. When they finally carried the dishes to the table, Nan Yan saw the two women chatting and laughing together.
Madam Wang held onto Zhao Mingyan, talking nonstop, as though she hadn’t spoken to anyone in years. She poured out her words like beans from a bamboo tube, growing more animated with every bite. And indeed, she hadn’t had anyone to talk to for years.
In Nan Yan’s household, aside from her, there were only two maids and an old servant woman. The young were too young, the old too old—none could truly converse with her. As for Nan Yan—well, there was no talking with him. Madam Wang simply couldn’t understand a word he said!
Today, at last, someone had come who matched her in status, who was clever, gentle, and endearing. Madam Wang liked Zhao Mingyan immensely.
“Mingyan, you’re far too thin. Eat more.”
Zhao Mingyan ate slowly, her manners refined, praising as she went. “Mm, Sister Shuang, your roast chicken is truly delicious—the best I’ve ever tasted. You’re amazing.”
“This is nothing!”
“No, really. And you can even kill a chicken. The way you did it just now—so bold and dashing—you looked like a general on the battlefield.”
Madam Wang laughed until she couldn’t close her mouth. “That sweet tongue of yours! If I’m a general, then I’ll make you a top scholar.”
Zhao Mingyan smiled brightly. “I could never be a scholar. If you must grant me a title, then make me your little strategist, following you onto the battlefield.”
Nan Yan: “…”
Then who was he? And where did he fit in?
Watching this scene of perfect harmony, Nan Yan couldn’t help but feel like the extra one. Was this concubine of his actually brought home for Madam Wang?
Night soon fell.
This was Zhao Mingyan’s first day at the Nan residence. During the day, she had been assigned a room—Nan Yan’s study.
The Nan residence was not large. In the inner courtyard, there were only four rooms: a main hall facing south, two side rooms to the left, which belonged to Madam Wang’s daughter, Jiang Hua, and Nan Yan’s daughter, Nan Shu.
The two young ladies were sent to study at a great scholar’s academy and only returned once every ten days or half a month.
On the right side was Nan Yan’s study.
Originally, Madam Wang had suggested that Zhao Mingyan stay in Jiang Hua’s room, and when Jiang Hua returned, she could share the room with her sister Nan Shu.
But how could Zhao Mingyan allow that? She already knew that Wang Shuang was a genuinely kind mistress of the household, treating her like a younger sister. Precisely because of that, she could not impose herself in such a way. So she insisted on staying in Nan Yan’s study instead.
“But that’s Nan Yan’s study,” Wang Shuang said, her expression somewhat complicated.
“A study is still a room. I’ll stay there,” Zhao Mingyan said firmly.
Seeing her determination, Wang Shuang could not refuse and let her arrange it.
Wang Shuang cast a disdainful glance at Nan Yan, only to see him watching Zhao Mingyan’s resolute face, the stern lines of his features softening into a faint smile.
With regret, Wang Shuang sighed. “Ah, truly an old cow eating tender grass. Shameless!”
Nan Yan: “…… She insisted on staying in my study. I didn’t say anything.”
Wang Shuang spat, “Shameless!”
Nan Yan: “……”
That night, Zhao Mingyan tidied up the study for herself.
She said she was tidying up, but in truth, there wasn’t much to do—because Zhao Mingyan discovered that the study was arranged no worse than the main bedroom. Several large rows of bookshelves filled the hall, and on the east side was a small sleeping chamber with a spacious bed, clearly meant for Nan Yan to rest in when he worked late.
At the southern end of the hall, a screen partitioned off a small room with a large bath tub and a night pot for convenience.
Zhao Mingyan looked around and thought Nan Yan’s study was quite well equipped. She added only a small couch in the corner of the sleeping chamber.
After all, it was a study, not a place Nan Yan lived in regularly. She would sleep on the small couch, leaving his bed untouched, so as not to disturb his rest.
That afternoon, Nan Yan had been summoned to the palace. Even after dinner, he hadn’t returned. Wang Shuang told her that if he didn’t come back by then, she needn’t worry—no one knew when he would return, and the palace surely provided him food.
With Nan Yan absent, Zhao Mingyan felt more at ease. She boiled water and bathed thoroughly in the room. After all, she had only just come out of the filthy Pleasure Bureau.
Though the Pleasure Bureau had ample hot water for bathing, and she had washed daily while there, the place itself was so degrading that she always felt unclean. Now, at last, she had escaped that sea of suffering.
She was fortunate to have entered a good household, avoiding the fate of her previous life—being sent to the Marquis Xuanping’s residence, where she had been tormented for years.
After bathing comfortably, she carried out the buckets of water, finished her chores, and, exhausted, climbed onto the small couch and fell asleep at once.
The couch was narrow, but lying there gave Zhao Mingyan a sense of safety. Curling herself into a ball under the quilt, small and tight, she quickly drifted into a deep sleep.
Half‑dreaming, she caught the scent of familiar pine, like being embraced as a child, warm and secure. As she sank deeper into that comforting embrace, her curled limbs gradually relaxed.
Like a child who, once assured of safety, dares to stretch out and explore the wider world, she extended her arms and legs, stretching bit by bit until she touched the edge of the couch and the wall beyond.
Yes, it was a small couch, not wide at all. With that subconscious thought, she continued sleeping soundly.
At dawn, when the chickens Wang Shuang raised in the courtyard began to crow, Zhao Mingyan instinctively opened her eyes. She couldn’t help it—her last life in the Marquis’s household had trained her for ten years to rise at the sound of chickens, ready to serve the mistress.
Though the household had many servants, Chen Xingwei’s wife, Madam Cai, had insisted that Zhao Mingyan attend her personally.
Every morning, Madam Cai required a tonic soup, and Zhao Mingyan had to prepare it herself, ensuring it was ready before she rose and cooled to the perfect temperature. If it were too early or too late, spoiling the taste, Zhao Mingyan’s day would be ruined.
Most of the time, she managed the timing perfectly, even warming the soup against her own body to keep it ready. Yet often Madam Cai would merely sip it to rinse her mouth—or toss it aside without drinking.
Zhao Mingyan knew this was simply a way to torment her—just another method of making her suffer. But what could she do? She was only a concubine and not even favored by Chen Xingwei. In the Marquis Xuanping’s household, not a single person was willing to protect her.
No need to dwell on it further. Out of habit, Zhao Mingyan rose early. But when she got up, she froze for a moment—because she realized she had slept on the large bed in the small chamber.
Hm? Had she been so muddled last night that she climbed onto Nan Yan’s bed to rest?
Looking around the room, she saw no one else. Nan Yan wasn’t there.
She supposed she must have been confused in her sleep. Not bothering about it, she got up, tidied herself, and went out.
By the time Madam Wang awoke, the courtyard had already been swept, the water carried in, and the kitchen was alive with the crackling sounds of cooking.
Madam Wang was startled. Just then, the household’s only working servant woman arrived late.
The Nan residence’s inner courtyard had only three servants: two young girls who attended the daughters, and one old maid who remained at home. Since Madam Wang cooked herself, the old maid was usually only tasked with laundry, carrying water, and cleaning.
But today—
“Madam, you’ve already finished all the chores so early!” The old maid stared wide‑eyed at the spotless courtyard.
Madam Wang widened her eyes even more. “You didn’t do this?”
“Of course not. Yesterday, the master came home late, so I got up to serve him a midnight snack. Today I overslept a little,” the old maid explained hastily.
Madam Wang let out a cry and hurried into the kitchen. Sure enough, inside, she saw Zhao Mingyan tending the fire.
“My goodness! I thought that lazy maid had suddenly grown diligent and finished the chores early. So it was you!”
Madam Wang looked around the spotless kitchen—the stove clean, pots and bowls neatly arranged, everything in perfect order. She remembered that the old maid had just said she got up at midnight to prepare a snack for Nan Yan.
Knowing that lazy maid, if she cooked so late, she certainly wouldn’t have washed the pots afterward. But now the kitchen was sparkling clean. Clearly, Zhao Mingyan had tidied everything early that morning.
“When did you get up?”
“Not too early, just a little before you,” Zhao Mingyan replied with a smile.
“Don’t try to fool me! You swept the whole courtyard, carried water to the big vat, and cleaned the kitchen inside and out. Without rising at the crow of the rooster, that’s impossible!” Madam Wang said.
She knew from experience—back when she lived with her first husband, she had to rise at dawn every day to have everything ready before the family woke.
Zhao Mingyan wanted to be modest and hide it, but she couldn’t deceive Madam Wang.
Seeing herself exposed, Zhao Mingyan smiled lightly. “Sister Shuang, I’m just used to rising early.”
“Enough of that. We don’t need you doing all this here.” Madam Wang pulled her up. “Go back to your room and get some more sleep! Rest awhile. When I finish cooking, you can get up to eat.”
“Sister Shuang…”
“Go on!” Madam Wang, for once, used her authority as mistress of the household.
Zhao Mingyan nodded meekly, like a little quail.
As she left, Madam Wang added, From now on, you don’t need to rise so early. We don’t have much work here. Your only duty is to eat and sleep. Besides, Nan Yan already told me I mustn’t bully you!”
“Sister Shuang, you haven’t bullied me—it’s just that I…”
“Enough! I forbid you to do these chores again!”
Zhao Mingyan: “……”
Madam Wang chased her out of the kitchen, insisting she rest. But Zhao Mingyan couldn’t possibly sleep again. Just then, Uncle Chen hurried in from the front courtyard.
“Madam! Madam!”
“Someone’s here!”
Hearing the voice, Zhao Mingyan stepped out. “Uncle Chen, what’s the matter?”
Uncle Chen saw her. “Miss Mingyan, someone outside has come to deliver something to the master. I came to ask Madam for instructions.”
As he spoke, Wang Shuang poked her head out from the kitchen. “What is it?”
“Madam, a few men outside say they’re from the Marquis Guangping’s household. They’ve brought some items for the master and ask whether Madam will accept them.” Uncle Chen repeated.
Wang Shuang waved her hand without hesitation. “Just tell them to leave it.”
Uncle Chen nodded. “Alright, I’ll go reply.”
But Zhao Mingyan frowned. “Wait, Uncle Chen.”
“Miss Mingyan, is there something else?”
“What exactly did they say? What are they delivering? And why did they insist Sister Shuang must give the word to accept it?” Zhao Mingyan asked sharply.
Uncle Chen paused. “It’s a few small chests, looks like gifts. They said they had already spoken with the master, that he knows about it.”
Zhao Mingyan’s eyes narrowed. “If they already spoke with him, why do they need Sister Shuang’s approval?”
Uncle Chen froze. Even with his slow, aging mind, he realized something was off.
If the Marquis Guangping’s men claimed the master knew, then they could simply leave the items. Why insist on Madam’s explicit consent?
“Perhaps the items are especially valuable,” Uncle Chen said uncertainly.
But Zhao Mingyan pressed further. “And how close are the Marquis Guangping’s household and ours?”
Uncle Chen thought for a moment. “They’ve had occasional dealings in the past.”
Zhao Mingyan turned directly to Wang Shuang. “Sister Shuang, let’s go see for ourselves.”
Wang Shuang had already been puzzled. She handed her spatula to the old maid. “Come on, let’s take a look!”
She untied her apron and strode out with Zhao Mingyan. Passing through the decorative gate, they reached the outer courtyard. In the reception hall sat several servant‑looking men and one steward, dressed neatly enough to mark him as a household manager.
When the steward saw Wang Shuang herself appear, his face changed, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes.
“Who are you people? What are you bringing for Nan Yan?” Wang Shuang demanded loudly. Her commanding tone unsettled the steward, who quickly forced a smile.
But Zhao Mingyan caught the momentary unease.
“Madam Nan, what a surprise to see you,” the steward said with a grin.
“Weren’t you the ones who asked me to come? And now that I’m here, you seem displeased?” Wang Shuang retorted, realizing something was amiss.
The steward hurried to cover. “Yes, yes. I was sent by my master to deliver some items to Lord Nan.”
“What items?” Wang Shuang asked, moving to inspect them.
The steward quickly interjected. “Madam, these are confidential things our master said Lord Nan requested. No one else should open them.”
He spoke with such gravity that Wang Shuang froze. If they were Nan Yan’s belongings, she truly couldn’t touch them. She was a straightforward woman, not versed in such matters. What if she damaged something important?
For a moment, Wang Shuang hesitated, thinking perhaps she should just leave the items until Nan Yan returned. At that instant, a hand reached out and pulled her back.
Zhao Mingyan’s face was calm as she said to Wang Shuang, “Sister Shuang, we cannot accept this.”
“Why not?”
“Think about it. If this truly were something important agreed upon directly with the master, then it should be handed to him personally. How could you simply accept it? And notice—they’ve asked you several times to give your approval, yet they won’t let you know what’s inside. If there’s trickery hidden within, wouldn’t you end up taking the blame?”
Born into a great family, Zhao Mingyan had seen countless schemes and intrigues. These men had deliberately come while Nan Yan was away, bringing supposedly important items and insisting that Wang Shuang accept them. Clearly, they were exploiting her straightforward nature to set her up.
Wang Shuang’s eyes lit up at Zhao Mingyan’s analysis. “You’re right. So what should I do?”
“Tell them to wait until the master returns and hand it to him directly. Otherwise, they should take it back. As a woman, it’s not proper for you to accept such things.”
“You’re absolutely right!” Wang Shuang turned to the men. “I cannot accept this. Since it’s for Nan Yan, you’ll have to wait until he returns and give it to him personally.”
At her words, the steward’s face changed instantly. His eyes darted nervously. “Madam, this is very important. Our master said it must be delivered quickly and returned at once, lest some busybodies outside take notice and harm Lord Nan’s future prospects!”
He invoked Nan Yan’s career as a heavy pressure, leaving Wang Shuang bewildered. She wasn’t skilled in such twists and turns and didn’t know how to respond.
Just then, a clear, bright female voice rang out: “Is your master the Marquis Guangping? Did the Marquis himself tell you that what you’re delivering could affect our lord’s future prospects?”