“Fortunately, the Marquis still favors the young lady,” said Nanny Bai.
She looked at the girl who ate and slept as usual, her heart aching. Outsiders thought the young lady was heartless—unloved by her own mother yet always cheerful, finishing every meal sent from the main kitchen. Only Nanny Bai knew that whenever the little maid mentioned her parents, the young lady’s eyes held envy.
Nanny Bai’s words drew a cold laugh from Shen Qingluo. “My father is driven only by profit. He comes to see me because there’s something in me he values.”
She murmured to herself: “But what exactly is the profit he sees in me?”
For Shen Zheng, a daughter was merely a rung on the ladder of his ambition. He had staked his hopes on Shen Qiyi.
In her previous life, Shen Qiyi married into the illustrious Ye family, a union of dazzling wealth. On her wedding day, the bridal procession alone filled an entire street, the spectacle grand beyond compare. Shen Zheng wept as he sent his daughter off.
Unnoticed in the crowd, Shen Qingluo watched her sister with envy. When she turned her head, she caught her own husband staring at her sister, his eyes brimming with reluctance and regret.
“What’s wrong with you?” Shen Qingluo asked.
He quickly masked his expression. “Nothing. Seeing your sister marry reminded me of the day I wed you.”
He said, “Your father and mother sat high upon the dais and spoke only two words: ‘Go on.’”
He did not realize how deeply this pierced Shen Qingluo’s heart—or perhaps he did, but simply did not care.
Just as thoughts of Lu Yan surfaced, Suyue entered carrying a visiting card. “From Young Master Lu,” she said.
Unfolding the fine paper, the handwriting flowed with effortless grace, like a startled swan skimming water. Lu Yan’s calligraphy was exquisite. In later years, his characters would be worth a fortune.
Shen Qingluo discarded it as if it were refuse, tossing it into the lotus pond’s water jar. “Tell him I have no time.”
The maidservants knew well enough that their young mistress disliked Young Master Lu. Suyue, unsurprised, went to deliver the message.
After the reply was sent, Lu Yan waited day after day. When he came to the Marquis’s residence, the gatekeepers treated him politely, yet their words never changed: “The young lady says she has no leisure to see you.”
“Is there any reply?” Lu Yan pressed, unwilling to give up. The porter shook his head.
Lu Yan left in disappointment. Just as he stepped out through the Marquis’s gate, a carriage approached from afar. The driver was familiar to him—his heart began to race. Could it be her?
The carriage slowed with a rhythmic *clop-clop-clop* and came to a halt before Lu Yan. From behind the lifted curtain, a face as radiant as a flower appeared.
Lu Yan’s breath faltered, his hands and feet suddenly clumsy. A nervous laugh escaped him just as he heard the voice he had longed for day and night: “Are you here to see my elder sister?”
“Yes…” Lu Yan managed to recover his voice. “Ah Luo is busy; she has no time to meet me.”
“How could elder sister be busy? She must be shy,” Shen Qiyi teased with a playful smile. “Why don’t I arrange for her to meet you?”
Lu Yan raised his head, afraid his obsession might show, then quickly lowered it again. “If Ah Yi can help me, that would be best.”
“Rest assured, Brother Lu,” Shen Qiyi said earnestly. “You and I knew each other first. Even if elder sister weren’t here, if you ever needed help, I would certainly assist you.”
The carriage rolled through the Marquis’s gates, while Lu Yan lingered, savoring her words.
The servant Manzi remarked, “It is Second Miss Shen who truly matches you, young master.”
The comment struck like a spark to dry tinder, igniting all of Lu Yan’s suppressed resentment. His gaze burned toward the Marquis’s gate.
“Too bad I have nothing now. If she followed me, she would suffer.”
But once he married Shen Qingluo, with silver in hand, he would climb step by step. And when that day came, he swore he would reach out and pluck the moon itself.
Meanwhile, in the main hall, the eldest son, Shen Chang’an, and the second son, Shen Changlin, came to pay respects to their mother, only to encounter Shen Qiyi returning to the residence. From her lips they learned of their parents’ quarrel.
“Was it because of Shen Qingluo?” Shen Chang’an asked.
Shen Qiyi nodded. “Mother is wronged. The Marquis’s household has countless servants—how could she watch every single one?”
“For such a trivial matter, does Shen Qingluo cling to it endlessly?” Shen Changlin muttered as he followed.
“Elder sister has been away too long; she isn’t close to Mother,” Shen Qiyi explained. “Father has been staying in Concubine Mei’s quarters these past days, and Mother’s headaches have flared from anger.”
Shen Changlin grew indignant. “She is Mother’s own daughter—yet after staying away so long, she no longer knows closeness from distance?”
Shen Chang’an muttered under his breath, “She doesn’t know what’s good for her.”
When they entered the inner chamber, the Marchioness lay reclined on the couch by the window, a faint fragrance of calming incense drifting from the low table. Hearing footsteps, she opened her eyes, her breath weak. “Why have you all come?”
“Is your headache any better, Mother?” Shen Chang’an asked softly.
The Marchioness nodded. “Much better.”
Hot-tempered Shen Changlin dropped onto a stool. “Mother, you’ve spoiled Shen Qingluo too much. As a child she was obedient—just a few strikes on the palm and she wouldn’t dare make a sound. Now she’s returned with airs, arrogant and defiant.”
The Marchioness sighed. “She has been led astray.”
“Don’t worry, Mother. As elder brothers, it is our duty to guide our younger sister,” Shen Changlin declared.
The Marchioness felt comforted by her son’s sense of responsibility.
After a night of heavy rain, morning broke clear. Cicadas sang from the trees outside—it was summer now.
At Banyue Pavilion, short of servants, Shen Qingluo herself chose two clever girls from the slave market. They were sisters, whom she named Shancha and Shaoyao.
Sold because of poverty, the sisters had been passed from household to household, rejected as ugly. Shancha bore a bluish birthmark beneath her eye; Shaoyao had freckles around her nose.
“They’re birthmarks,” Xiao Ya explained. “And besides, they’re not ugly at all.” She spoke with frankness, and her words carried conviction. Shancha and Shaoyao, once tense and reserved, felt their spirits lift.
The two sisters knelt to give thanks. Shancha, the elder, said: “We thought our lives would be spent as mere drudges, never dreaming we might serve close to our mistress.”
Shen Qingluo raised her hand to bid them rise. “There are few rules in my courtyard. Loyalty is what matters most.”
The sisters listened intently. They did not know that their good fortune in this life was born of virtue accumulated in the last.
“Miss, the Marchioness asks you to come to Mingde Hall,” Suyue entered, her expression troubled. “The Third and Fourth Misses have quarreled again.”
Nanny Bai brought in pastries. “Eat a little first, young lady. No doubt it will drag on half the day.”
“You’re thoughtful as always, Nanny. Better to be full before going into battle.”
Shen Qingluo ate half a plate in quick succession and drank a bowl of clear tea.
The two new maids stared in astonishment. Does the young lady eat so much?
Nanny Bai, still dissatisfied, added: “Miss loves sweet rice dumplings best. The main kitchen always refuses, and the dishes they send are hardly fit to eat.”
Shen Qingluo was particular, fond of delicacies.
Banyue Pavilion had no private kitchen, and without the Marchioness’s order, they could not leave the Marquis’s estate. Occasionally, Madam Hu from the kitchen would bring back some snacks with silver discreetly spent, but too much risked giving the Marchioness cause to censure them.
In the two months since returning, Shen Qingluo had grown noticeably thinner.
“Don’t worry, Nanny. Though I’ve lost weight, I’ve grown taller too.” Shen Qingluo stood, her childishness fading, her figure slender like a willow shoot.
Nanny Bai gestured at her waistline and laughed. “When you first came to the old residence, you barely reached me. The Old Madam fretted you would never grow.”
“At that time I ate five meals a day. Grandmother nearly fattened me into a pig.”
Her words sent the whole room into laughter.