Shen Qingluo nodded.
The Marchioness’s expression softened, her tone gentler: “Qingluo, Mother only wants the best for you. You’re not short of silver—spend a little so the household will remember your kindness.” She added, “The honor of the Marquis’s household is also your honor.”
“I understand, Mother,” Shen Qingluo replied, lowering her gaze.
There were more people at Baique Temple than expected. The young novice who received them explained: “The peach blossoms on the back mountain are in full bloom. Many patrons have come to admire them.” He led them toward the Great Buddha Hall.
On the way, they overheard the Marchioness say she wished to donate incense money. The novice responded calmly: “Benefactor, please follow me.”
Shen Qingluo turned to her mother: “Mother, I’ll go with the little monk. You and Qingyi should go ahead and accompany Madam Wei.”
T/n: Shen Qingluo called Madam Wei “Yiniang,” a title for concubines, but for consistency, I translate it as “Madam.”
At the sound of that unfamiliar “Madam Wei,” the Marchioness forced herself to suppress the frown tugging at her brow and merely said, “Very well.”
“Don’t be upset, Mother,” Shen Qingyi soothed, holding her arm. “Elder Sister has been away at the old estate for seven years. It’s natural she feels distant from the Marquis’s household.”
The Marchioness said, “Since she’s being obedient today, I won’t bother to argue with her.”
Inside the Great Buddha Hall, the Marchioness donned another face—gentle and virtuous—exchanging greetings with familiar ladies one by one.
Madam Wei noticed one person missing behind her and whispered: “Where is Shen Qingluo?”
“She went to Gongde Hall,” the Marchioness replied.
Madam Wei’s eyes flickered, a smile spreading across her face as she praised: “You handle matters most properly.”
Shen Qingluo came out from Gongde Hall and noticed Douzi glancing about restlessly. She smiled: “If I’d known you wanted to come here, I would have let you go earlier. The little monk said the peach blossoms on the back mountain are in full bloom—go and see for yourself.”
Catching sight of another eager gaze beside her, she waved her hand:
“Xiao Ya, you go too.”
Xiao Ya cheered, while Douzi tried to suppress his grin.
Worried the two children might bump into some distinguished guests, Shen Qingluo instructed Chunlan: “Take good care of them.”
Having spent much time in Banyue Courtyard, Chunlan knew Shen Qingluo treated the servants of the old estate differently. Because she often gave out rewards, Chunlan was especially attentive: “Rest assured, Miss.”
When the chanting began, Shen Qingluo returned. She listened to Master Yuantong recite the sutras, and when the ceremony ended, she rose.
The Shen family’s seats were in the middle of the left side of the hall. In the very front row knelt only one elderly lady, adorned with few ornaments, yet each piece was a rare treasure. She fingered her prayer beads and raised her hand with quiet grace—every movement steeped in the dignity and refinement of long years of ritual. This was Madam Ye of the Ye family, surnamed Cui, born of the direct line of one of the Ten Great Houses.
When Madam Ye rose, the others followed suit. After exchanging a few words with those close to her, her gaze fell upon Madam Wei.
Madam Wei immediately straightened her robes and bowed respectfully. Madam Ye gave a faint invitation: “We are about to proceed to the Palace Hall. Would Madam Shen care to join us?”
Madam Wei, flattered beyond measure, quickly agreed.
In Shengjing, many people did not even know Marquis Zhongyong had another wife; they all assumed Madam Wei was the principal consort.
Though Madam Ye knew Wei-shi was but a concubine, because she came from an official family and conducted herself well, Madam Ye would occasionally exchange a few words with her at grand occasions.
Just those two sentences were enough to stir envy in many hearts.
Following behind, Shen Qingluo caught sight of Madam Wei’s face and was reminded of how her grandmother had once been forced to leave the Marquis’s household. Her father was not particularly clever, yet neither was he foolish. Had he not been so deeply poisoned by others’ whispers from childhood, he would never have abandoned his own mother. Her grandmother’s nature was fierce. When betrayed by her closest kin, she would never bow her head or speak soft words. Her pride forbade her from venting her grievances in any unseemly way. But does silence mean there is no sorrow?
Could the veil Madam Wei had so carefully woven truly conceal the shame?
Inside Gongde Hall lay the register of donations. The names of these patrons and their households would be carved onto the Merit Stele.
Madam Ye turned to the young novice and said: “My eyesight is not what it once was. Please, little master, read it aloud for me.”
At this, everyone’s attention sharpened.
Those who donated generously had no fear. But those from great houses who gave too little risked losing face. Since Madam Ye herself had taken the lead, to donate sparingly was to slight the Lu family. Fortunately, only one or two proved miserly and ignorant of propriety. The rest gave in a manner befitting their noble lineage.
The young novice read aloud: “Lady Li of Shanyang County donates nine hundred taels of silver.”
Immediately after came Madam Ye’s donation of one thousand taels.
Nine hundred taels—second only to Madam Ye’s sum, surpassing all others, yet not so much as to overshadow her. A shrewd move indeed.
But who was this Lady Li of Shanyang County?
Madam Wei, who understood, turned ashen. The Marchioness glared daggers at Shen Qingluo, while the rest of the Shen family looked uneasy.
Madam Ye voiced the question on everyone’s mind: “Shanyang County lies a thousand miles away. How could they be donating incense money here at Baique Temple? Is the donor present?”
The Marchioness seized Shen Qingluo’s hand, warning her in a low voice:
“Do not cause trouble!”
Madam Wei’s eyes bulged, cold venom gleaming within.
Under the devouring stares of the two women, Shen Qingluo pulled free of the Marchioness’s grasp and stepped forward. She first lowered her skirts in a proper curtsey, then announced her lineage: “Lady Li of Shanyang County is my grandmother.”
Hearing that she was the Shen family’s eldest daughter, raised in Shanyang due to illness, Madam Ye showed a flicker of surprise. Yet seeing her poised manners and graceful bearing, her expression softened:
“So you are the Shen family’s eldest girl. I know your grandmother’s household was quite prosperous. How fares the old lady?”
Shen Qingluo lowered her eyes: “My grandmother passed away four months ago.”
Madam Ye looked her over, sighing with regret: “No wonder you are dressed so plainly. A filial child indeed.” She asked again: “And the nine hundred taels of incense money—was that donated on your grandmother’s behalf?”
Shen Qingluo nodded: “My grandmother was devout. If she were still alive, knowing Baique Temple shelters orphans after great disasters, and that a lady as compassionate as Madam Ye leads the effort, she would surely have done the same.”
As she spoke, Shen Qingluo adjusted her sleeve. Madam Ye’s eyes caught the prayer beads on her wrist, and she exclaimed in surprise: “You wear beads of Canaan fragrant wood?”
“Yes.” Shen Qingluo slipped them into her hand—one hundred and eight beads, each smooth and lustrous. She explained: “These were obtained by my grandmother from Master Yuan Kong, long ago, before she conceived.”
At those words, Madam Wei felt a chill of foreboding.
Sure enough, Shen Qingluo’s next sentence was: “Together with these Canaan fragrant wood beads, my grandmother also obtained a white jade Guanyin statue.”
Madam Ye turned her gaze upon Madam Wei. She understood at once, her eyes darkening.
Madam Wei’s legs went weak. She longed to explain, yet with so many people present she dared not speak openly of the gift she had given. She held it in, her face flushed crimson.
“Your grandmother was a good woman, with a heart for Buddha,” Madam Ye said, turning back to Shen Qingluo. “It is rare indeed that you do not forget her kindness in raising you.”
Shen Qingluo thanked Madam Ye for her praise. Holding the beads in her hands, she said: “I have heard that Lord Ye is fond of prayer beads. Why not borrow flowers to offer to the Buddha, and present these to Lord Ye?”
Ye Huaijin’s inability to bear children was Madam Ye’s deepest sorrow. Ordinary objects meant little—but these beads, like the white jade Guanyin, had been consecrated by Master Yuan Kong himself. What if they proved efficacious?
The temptation was too great. Madam Ye instructed her old nurse to accept them, and her smile toward Shen Qingluo grew more genuine:
“Today I shamelessly accept your gift. In days to come, I shall certainly send a return present to the Marquis’s household.”
Shen Qingluo replied: “These beads are offered to Madam Ye on behalf of my grandmother. Since both you and she were devoted to Buddha, before the Blessed One I wish only that all your heart’s desires may be fulfilled.”
Those few words struck directly at Madam Ye’s heart—measured, neither servile nor arrogant. Madam Ye praised her repeatedly, finally saying:
“Your grandmother raised you well. In the future, come visit the Ye household and meet some of the young ladies there.”
It was polite courtesy.
Shen Qingluo replied: “I will certainly go.”
Their exchange left the onlookers stunned. Those unaware of the truth began whispering among themselves, while the older ones explained.
Word spread quickly, and before long, everyone in the hall knew that Madam Wei was not the principal wife.
“How could she presume to act as the main wife? The Marchioness calls her ‘Mother’ at every turn—I truly thought she was Marquis Shen’s birth mother.”
“Not at all. Back then there were already rumors that the old Marquis favored concubines over his wife. The household kept it tightly covered, and since the legitimate wife left the capital under the pretext of illness, the gossip gradually died away.”
Another added: “When the old Marquis’s wife, Lady Li, left the capital, people said she was jealous, that she harmed concubines, that as a merchant’s daughter she was calculating. I believed it at the time.”
“Where there’s smoke, there must be fire. Likely someone spread those tales deliberately, to build a reputation for virtue and seize the place of the principal wife.”
The wives of the Minister of Rites and the Minister of Revenue exchanged words one after another, while Madam Zhong of the Court of Judicial Review, listening nearby, turned pale.