Nanny Kong’s words about the “Princess’s bones scarcely cold” were a bit exaggerated—after all, Princess Fuzhuang had died when He Fangting was only nine years old.
But her remark reminded Jiang Zhixiu that, though the emperor disliked Princess Fuzhuang, He Fangting still carried imperial blood. As a county princess, she possessed all the privileges of her rank. This matter could not be forced. It would be best if she herself agreed.
Suppressing his anger, he said grudgingly, “Fangting, though you are of the royal clan, you are also a wife of the Jiang family. Think it over carefully.”
With a flick of his sleeve, he left Chunming Court.
As soon as he was gone, Nanny Kong wept again: “What shall we do? The Jiang family bullies us too much! The Prince Consort won’t intervene; the Marquis is away from the capital—my lady, let us go to the palace and lodge a complaint!”
He Fangting closed her eyes briefly, then said gently, “Nanny, the weather is hot. I’d like some of your honey‑melon iced pastries.”
Startled, Nanny Kong stammered, “Ah? Oh—yes, this old servant will make them at once. Please wait a moment, my lady.”
She had made such treats for He Fangting since childhood, and her mistress still loved them.
Once the nanny left, the maid Qing Hao leaned close and whispered,
“My lady, let me kill Xie Meiying—make her vanish completely!”
The name *Meiying* itself sounded ominous, and now it seemed fitting.
He Fangting sighed: “…Kill her? For what?”
Qing Hao’s eyes hardened. “Cut off the problem at its root! If she’s dead, how can she enter the Jiang family?”
The quieter maid Bai Wei added tersely, “Exactly.”
Qing Hao fumed, “To anger our lady—she must be tired of living!”
He Fangting felt warmed by their loyalty, yet also helpless. Those around her either wept endlessly, like Nanny Kong, or shouted for blood, like Qing Hao and Bai Wei. None were particularly clever.
But then, clever people would never remain loyal to a fallen princess.
She laughed softly: “Kill her? Hardly necessary.”
Her anger was not truly at Xie Meiying, but at Jiang Zhixiu. If he had not entertained the idea, how would Xie Meiying have had the chance to step into the Jiang household?
In the end, Jiang Zhixiu was the root cause. Without Xie Meiying, there would be a Zhang Meiying or a Li Meiying.
Qing Hao protested, “So we do nothing, and just wait for her to marry in?”**
He Fangting sneered: “Impossible. Without my consent, this cannot happen.”
She had been mistress of the Jiang household for more than ten years—she was no mere ornament. If Jiang Zhixiu only wished to take Xie Meiying as a concubine, she would not object. She would even host the banquet herself, making the occasion lively. But he went too far. He did not want a concubine—he wanted to marry her through *jiantiao* (lineage continuation).
A concubine’s status was low, but Jiang Zhixiu loved Xie Meiying too much to demean her.
If the lineage marriage succeeded, Xie Meiying would not only be his principal wife but also the Jiang family’s eldest daughter‑in‑law. He Fangting would be reduced to a secondary wife.
Then, by the order of seniority and family rites, Xie Meiying would outrank her. He Fangting would have to address her as “sister‑in‑law.”
And if Xie Meiying bore a child, that child would be the legitimate eldest grandson, receiving Jiang Zhixiu’s full support—while He Fangting’s children would be pushed aside. She would never allow it.
One thing puzzled her: “lineage continuation” sounded respectable, but in essence, it was still one man with two wives—contrary to proper rites. Among commoners, it might occur, but never within the court. How dare Jiang Zhixiu set such a precedent? Was he not afraid of being censured for violating propriety? Or perhaps he had received some subtle hint from the emperor and was deliberately grinding her down?
No, unlikely. Her imperial uncle had far more pressing matters than this.
But then again, who could say for certain?
As she pondered, Nanny Kong returned carrying a crystal plate of chilled melon pastries.
He Fangting asked, “Have Yu’er and Ying’er been served as well?”
Her son, Jiang Jiayu, was seventeen this year. He had passed the county exam last year and is now a budding scholar. Her daughter, Jiang Jiaying, had just turned 15 and held her coming‑of‑age ceremony only last month. Both were of marriageable age. For their sake, she could not permit Jiang Zhixiu to take a second wife by lineage.
Nanny Kong smiled, “Did I need reminding? I already sent some to them. My lady, please enjoy yours!”
Qing Hao and Bai Wei also shared in the treat, and mistress and maids ate happily together.
Suddenly, a servant from Songrong Hall arrived, bowing respectfully: “My lady, the Old Master and Madam request your presence. They have matters to discuss.”
He Fang Ting knew it must concern the lineage marriage. She adjusted her attire, changing into a pomegranate‑red pleated gown with dark cloud patterns, and went with Qing Hao and Bai Wei to meet her in‑laws.
At Songrong Hall, she found not only her father‑in‑law, Jiang Chengzong, and his wife, Madam Pan, but also her younger brother‑in‑law, Jiang Linxiu, with his wife, Li Xixiang, and her married sister‑in‑law, Jiang Furong.
By national rite, all of them should bow to her. But in daily family life, she had long waived such formalities, disliking the distance they created. Thus, they observed only household etiquette.
“Elder Sister‑in‑law!” Li Xixiang and Jiang Furong greeted her with smiles, though their eyes betrayed undisguised glee at her misfortune.
He Fangting sighed inwardly. All those delicacies and fine silks she had bestowed on them over the years—better she had given them to beggars in the street.
No sooner had she sat down than Old Master Jiang Chengzong declared impatiently: “Daughter‑in‑law He, it was my idea that Zhixiu take a second wife for lineage. Quickly choose an auspicious date and arrange the ceremony.”
She was not surprised he supported his son. In his eyes, no matter how much a daughter‑in‑law gave, she was still an outsider; sons were true family.
Calmly, she replied, “Father, to select an auspicious date, one must know the birth characters. May I ask—what was my brother‑in‑law’s birth date?”
Jiang Chengzong froze, unable to answer.
Jiang Zhixiu had told him that He Fangting opposed the plan, so he thought to use his authority as father‑in‑law to force her compliance. He expected her to flare up, and had already prepared a scolding. But instead, she asked about the birth date of the child who had died young.
How could he know? That boy had died too early, before even being given a formal name, and his birth date was never recorded.
Instinctively, he turned to his wife, Madam Pan, the child’s mother—perhaps she would remember.