“Mother just claimed that the servants from my courtyard cannot testify because they obey my orders. But before I arrived, I had no idea that Third Sister and Fourth Sister’s clothes had been mixed up—I had no time to instruct them.”
Shen Qingluo continued calmly: “I am no prophet. If the words on paper can be dismissed as my mistake, then summon my servants here and question them directly. Compare their answers, and the truth will be clear.”
The Marchioness’s smile faltered. Indeed, when she had sent for Qingluo, she had not explained the matter at all—intending to catch her off guard. Yet this tiny flaw had been seized upon by her daughter. When did this girl become so sharp?
Shen Zheng ordered the maids from Shen Qingluo’s quarters to be called for questioning. The hall fell silent.
After half a stick of incense had burned, the witnesses arrived.
Nanny Bai, being advanced in years, could not recall clearly. But Xiao Ya recited Feicui’s words from that day as fluently as if she were listing medicinal herbs.
Shen Zheng examined the testimony: “It matches exactly with what Ah Luo wrote.” He turned to Feicui: “Did you truly not deliver the message wrongly?”
For a moment, Feicui’s eyes flickered evasively—just enough for Shen Zheng to notice. His voice hardened: “Speak the truth.”
With a thud, Feicui dropped to her knees. She knew she had been exposed; stubborn denial would only worsen her fate. To implicate the Marchioness was unthinkable. So she wept and confessed: “It was this servant who misremembered.”
The welts from her last beating had barely healed, and now another round of punishment was decreed.
The Marchioness was implicated and received a sharp glare from Shen Zheng.
Though Shen Qingluo’s grievance was cleared, the wrongly delivered dresses still lay there, and the two “sparring hens” continued their quarrel.
With a gentle smile, Shen Qingluo called out: “Third Sister, Fourth Sister—I’ve prepared a gift for you both.” She clapped her hands, and Suyue entered carrying a tray. It was two sets of gowns made from Fuguang brocade—one in pale green, the other in tender pink—fashioned in the latest capital style.
Shen Qingtíng and Shen Qingyu’s eyes lit up at once. Fuguang brocade was rarer than Shu brocade, equal in value to cloud brocade, an exceptionally precious fabric. Even Shen Qingyi, accustomed to fine things, was momentarily stunned. She glanced around—there were only two sets, no more.
“Third Sister, Fourth Sister,” Shen Qingluo said warmly, “take these as my apology gift.” She beckoned Suyue forward.
Suyue then set down a carved red-lacquered wooden box.
The entire room gasped. Inside lay a box brimming with Eastern pearls.
Shen Qingluo, utterly unconcerned, said: “I have little else to give my sisters. Please, divide these pearls among yourselves.”
For a moment, Mingde Hall fell silent.
Then a soft laugh broke the hush—Madam Chen spoke first: “Since Ah Luo is so generous, we shall accept these gifts.”
Madam Wei shot her a glare, but Madam Chen ignored it entirely.
As the pearls were about to be divided, Madam Ji of the Third Branch, her eyes gleaming with envy, disregarded Madam Wei’s warning and took her share. Once she had accepted the gifts, she felt obliged to show Shen Qingluo some favor.
Madam Chen began speaking to Qingluo warmly, no longer treating her as an outsider.
Shen Qingyi stared at the now-empty red-lacquered box, her eyes burning with resentment. Her own full-blooded sister had received nothing at all!
Seeing Shen Qingluo’s deft handling of the situation, Shen Zheng’s lingering doubts were momentarily suppressed. After all, his daughter was his own flesh and blood—the treasures remained within his household.
He turned to the Marchioness: “Ah Luo has done well. From now on, entrust her with more of the household matters.”
Delegating was also sharing power.
Shen Zheng did not understand the labyrinth of the inner chambers; he did not realize his wife was seething to the point of spitting blood.
The warmth between husband and wife, only just rekindled, froze over again. The Marchioness clenched her teeth and agreed.
Seizing the moment, Shen Qingluo said: “Father, I would like a key to the back gate.”
The Marchioness’s face hardened: “You are a maiden. Do you mean to go out parading yourself every day?”
“Why speak so harshly?” Shen Zheng rebuked his wife. To him, Shen Qingluo was still a young girl who had spent years in the small county of Shanyang, yearning for the bustle of Shengjing. “It is only the back gate. Even if she goes out, she will be accompanied by servants—what trouble could there be?”
The Marchioness was struck dumb.
That very evening, the key was delivered to Banyue Pavilion.
Meanwhile, Shen Zheng shifted his nightly rest from Concubine Mei’s quarters to Concubine Wu’s.
“Your father blames me,” the Marchioness confided to Shen Qingyi. “He suspects Feicui acted on my orders.” Her anger flared: “Feicui cannot be kept any longer.”
“Mother, Father still cares for Eldest Sister,” Shen Qingyi replied.
“Your father carries guilt toward her birth mother,” the Marchioness said bitterly, after decades of marriage seeing through his heart. “Otherwise, back then, Madam Li could never have taken Qingluo away.”
“And remember, last time that great figure from the Ye family personally sent her back—your father took it very seriously.”
The Marchioness was filled with regret: “Had I known Qingluo would have such fortune, I would never have abandoned her there.”
“I’ve grown up without ever meeting Ye family’s uncle,” Shen Qingyi said, her jealousy veiled in sweetness. “Eldest Sister is indeed blessed. But Ye family’s uncle is burdened with affairs of state—how could he remember her? Father’s hopes will surely come to nothing.”
The Marchioness nodded: “Exactly. And your sister thinks it’s her own ability.” Her heart ached at the thought of those two sets of Fuguang brocade and the box of Eastern pearls: “Such fine things—and she didn’t even think to leave some for her mother and sisters, letting outsiders profit for nothing!”
Shen Qingyi thought the same, though she was practiced at hiding her envy beneath a mask of dutiful affection. She fluttered her long lashes, her voice low and wistful: “I don’t care about the things themselves. It’s just, seeing Eldest Sister treat Third and Fourth Sister so kindly, I can’t help but feel envious…”
The Marchioness’s heart ached. She pulled her daughter into her arms:
“Silly child. She doesn’t value the bond of true sisters, yet you still defend her so eagerly.”
“Mother, at least I have your love,” Shen Qingyi murmured, wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist, smiling faintly in her embrace.
Meanwhile, in Banyue Pavilion, mistress and maids gathered together.
Shen Qingluo handed the back gate key to Nanny Bai, her bright eyes sparkling: “From now on, we can improve our meals.”
Nanny Bai’s grin stretched to her ears—finally, she could fatten her young lady back up again.
“Su Ji’s rose pastries, Xu Ji’s sugar crisps, Tianxiang Tower’s lotus-leaf roast chicken…” Shen Qingluo rattled off a long list of delicacies, leaving the entire courtyard wide-eyed.
“Is Eldest Miss planning to eat an entire street?” Suyue teased.
“Not all of them are my favorites,” Shen Qingluo replied unabashedly. “Some are for Xiao Ya and Ah Xu—they’re still growing.”
Of course, more than half were her own cravings.
That night, Shen Qingluo dreamed.
In the dream, she plunged into icy lake water, struggling and crying for help. On the shore, her brothers and sisters stood laughing, mouths wide open. Her eldest brother, second brother, younger brother, younger sisters… all watching. The water seeped into her nose and mouth, her body growing heavier, sinking deeper into the lake’s dark bottom. Not a single kin reached out to save her.
The suffocating sensation jolted Shen Qingluo awake in the middle of the night. She sat up, gasping for breath.
Hearing the commotion, Nanny Bai lit a lamp and lifted the curtain to enter: “Did Eldest Miss have a nightmare?”
Shen Qingluo threw herself into her nurse’s arms, slowly exhaling the suffocation lodged in her chest. Her rigid body gradually warmed.
“I dreamed I drowned.”
“It was only a dream. Dreams mean the opposite,” Nanny Bai said quickly—she could not bear to hear the word *death*. Her young lady must live a long, blessed life.
“Yes, just a dream,” Shen Qingluo whispered, her voice barely audible.
But the dream mirrored the past—for Shen Qingluo had truly nearly drowned once.