At Chunming Courtyard, He Fangting had risen not long ago and was taking breakfast with the help of her maids. What the Jiang family had quarreled about last night had already been whispered to her by informants—she treated it as a bit of entertainment to whet her appetite.
On the table lay an array of delicacies: *silken tofu, imperial pigeon eggs, goose breast in rose sauce, crystal shrimp, crispy squab, mushroom-and-minced-pork dumplings, seven-treasure soup, honey date cakes, lily-lotus pastries, rose-yam cakes, polished rice porridge, silver-thread rolls, nourishing tonic soup,* and more.
It was enough to feed not just her, but ten others as well. Yet Nanny Kong still felt it insufficient, lamenting that her beloved princess had been slighted.
Seeing He Fangting taste only a little before setting down her chopsticks, Nanny Kong muttered, “They never put their hearts into it. Always the same dishes, no novelty at all.”
He Fangting was long accustomed to her nurse’s complaints and said nothing. She was about to order the dishes cleared when a maid outside announced loudly, “Master, you’ve come!”
Jiang Zhixiu strode in so quickly that the words were barely finished before he entered. The first thing he saw was the table full of exquisite food—worth at least ten taels of silver. And this was only a simple breakfast. Add lunch, dinner, and snacks, and the daily cost of food alone reached a hundred taels!
During festivals, the expense would be even greater. Yet the household accounts held only one hundred and three taels. The contrast was staggering.
He recalled his father’s words: that Madam He had fostered extravagance in the household. It seemed she had not been wrongly accused.
As the saying goes: *easy to go from frugality to luxury, hard to return from luxury to frugality.* Once such habits are formed, they are difficult to change.
But he did not consider that before marriage, He Fangting had always lived this way. Why should she now cut back simply because she married him? Moreover, many of these expenses were borne from her own dowry, not the Jiang family’s coffers.
He Fangting, seeing him staring at the dishes in silence, thought he wished to eat. She said gently, “Husband, if you have not yet taken breakfast, why not share some of this?”
Jiang Zhixiu glanced around at the maids and attendants, then frowned.
“Leave us.”
The servants did not move, all looking to He Fangting.
She gave a slight nod, and only then did Madam Kong lead them out with bows.
Jiang Zhixiu noticed their hesitation and grew even more irritated. He was He Fangting’s husband, yet these people showed him no respect. In their eyes, she was the true master, not him.
If even the servants treated him so, surely He Fangting herself looked down on him. But what did she have to be proud of?
Her mother, Princess Fuzhuang, and her doting grandparents, the Marquis He couple, were long deceased. Her father, He Ziming, though alive, was distant, remarried, and had children with his new wife—he had long set aside his eldest daughter.
Her uncle, the new Marquis Changning, was stationed in the southwest and barely knew her.
The Emperor, though her maternal uncle, disliked her because of Princess Fuzhuang’s past, treating her with cold disdain. And the rest of the imperial clan, following the Emperor’s attitude, did not regard her as kin either.
She had only one person she could rely on—Jiang Zhixiu. Yet he treated her as though she were nothing. Truly, it was intolerable!
He said nothing, and He Fangting did not press him. She quietly sipped her almond-and-goat’s-milk tea, her fingers holding the crimson porcelain cup as flawless as white jade.
Jiang Zhixiu remembered the feel of those hands in his own. His anger, so full a moment ago, suddenly gave way to weariness. He sat down with a heavy sigh. “As you wish, I now understand your efforts and see your hardships. I will not treat you lightly again. Take back the household accounts—the family must be managed by you.”
He Fangting replied calmly, “I have already made myself clear. I have no desire for the authority of managing the household. Husband, please choose another worthy person.”
Jiang Zhixiu said impatiently, “Fangting, stop making trouble!”
The Emperor had granted him five days’ leave for his disaster-relief service and long absence from home. Only two days remained. If the household was not put in order, how could he return to court with peace of mind?
But He Fangting, with an air of detachment, said slowly, “Husband misunderstands. I am not making trouble. These years of managing the household have been unsatisfactory, and I feel weary of it. I am taking this chance to reflect.”
Jiang Zhixiu’s voice turned cold. “You are doing this on purpose!”
Reflect? Hardly. She was deliberately letting the household fall into chaos, deliberately showing her importance, and deliberately manipulating him.
He Fangting looked innocent. “If Husband insists on thinking this way, I can do nothing.”
Of course, she was doing it deliberately. Her marriage to Jiang Zhixiu had been carefully arranged by her grandparents, but she herself had chosen him as her husband, determined to be a good wife of the Jiang family. For that reason, she often did things silently, believing that speaking too much would harm their bond.
Her grandmother had once advised: in marriage, sincerity is most precious. Never rely on one’s noble birth to look down on one’s husband or act imperiously. At times, it is even wise to show weakness.
She had believed this advice and followed it.
But because she did not speak, they truly thought they knew nothing.
If not for marrying her, how could the Jiang family have established itself in the capital? How could Jiang Zhixiu have maintained his incorruptible reputation and won the Emperor’s favor?
Other officials worried endlessly about household affairs. Jiang Zhixiu did not—he only needed to focus on his career.
She had fulfilled every duty of a virtuous wife and mother, ensuring he had no worries at home.
Among his peers—the top scholar, the second, the third—none had risen as quickly or attained as high a post as he. Did he really think this was solely his own achievement, unrelated to her? It was laughable. In talent and ability, those three surpassed him. His only advantage was marrying her. She did not need Jiang Zhixiu’s gratitude—only his basic respect. But he had openly humiliated her by favoring Xie Meiying. Then let him see what the Jiang family would be without He Fangting.