Once He Fangting’s figure disappeared, He Ziming and Madam Lu were still staring at each other in dismay.
After a long pause, Madam Lu hesitated. “Master… could it be that we’ve fallen into Jiang Zhixiu’s trap?”
He Ziming slammed his palm on the table, his face dark with fury. “That wretch is sly indeed!”
Now he only prayed his elder brother would never learn of this matter—otherwise, he would be in serious trouble. Surely he wouldn’t know? The eldest daughter had never been one to complain.
Just as He Fangting approached the second gate, her younger sister Fangyan appeared with a maid at her side, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Elder Sister, you’re leaving already?”
He Fangting kept walking, smiling. “What, reluctant to part with me?”
He Fangyan huffed. “…You’re not a pile of gold ingots. Why should I be reluctant!”
Seeing her sister continue forward, she tugged at He Fangting’s sleeve, puffing with indignation. “Listen to me—don’t agree to this *jiantiao* nonsense! They’re bullying you!”
She had often wished to see He Fangting stumble, but the thought of her lofty sister being humiliated left her strangely unsettled. If one had to describe it: as fellow daughters of the He family, He Fangting’s disgrace was her own disgrace too.
He Fangting was surprised by her words and paused. “But Father and your mother both told me to agree.”
He Fangyan cried out, “They’re muddle-headed! Don’t listen to them!”
He Fangting sighed. “Filial piety outweighs all else…”
He Fangyan stamped her foot in frustration. “Oh come on! Aren’t you usually so formidable? Why shrink back now? The Emperor is your uncle! If you refuse, what can they do? What’s there to fear!”
He Fangting had only meant to tease her, but hearing this, she broke into a smile and nodded solemnly. “Very well. I’ll listen to my little sister—I will never agree!”
Only then did He Fangyan release her sleeve, warning, “If you can’t win against them, send word home. My brothers and I will storm the Jiang household ourselves!”
Her two elder brothers had also condemned the Jiang family’s scheme, but under pressure from their parents, they dared not speak out for their sister.
He Fangting clasped He Fangyan’s hand and patted it, laughing. “Rest assured—I can win.”
Seated in the carriage back to the Jiang estate, He Fangting felt unexpectedly cheerful. She had thought her father’s branch despised her utterly, yet her younger sister Fangyan still held a trace of sisterly affection.
As for her father and stepmother—their coldness was nothing new. She no longer cared.
On impulse, she ordered the coachman to stop at Liu’s Confectionery, buying boxes of freshly baked peach blossom pastries and chestnut cakes. Two were sent to He Fangyan; the rest were divided between her children, Yu’er and Ying’er.
In the past, she would have sent gifts to her grandfather, grandmother, and the second branch as well. Now, no longer. If they wanted treats, they could buy them themselves. Heartless people could never nurture true affection—she would waste no more coin on them.
Meanwhile, Jiang Zhixiu had spent the entire day waiting for word from the He family. When none arrived even after He Fangting returned home, he knew the plan had failed. He cursed He Ziming and Madam Lu as useless—unable to manage even this trifling matter.
He knew they lacked wit and were no match for He Fangting. Yet they held the natural authority of parents. By rites and law, none could suppress He Fangting more than they.
He had even hinted that they could confine her and force her to agree. As long as he, the husband, did not object, no one would interfere. He had spelled it out so clearly, yet they still failed to grasp it. Truly, rotten wood beyond repair.
As he brooded, Jiang Zhixiu suddenly remembered something crucial—the deed!
Jiang Zhixiu immediately ordered someone to demand the deed back from the He family.
His father-in-law—foolish as he was—sometimes showed a bit of streetwise cunning. Fearing Jiang Zhixiu might later deny it, he had forced him to write the deed.
That document was a ready-made handle. If the plan succeeded, they would be grasshoppers tied to the same rope, neither able to threaten the other. He would not need to worry about He Ziming leaking it. But since the plan had failed, who knew what He Ziming might do with the deed? It had to be retrieved.
Over an hour later, the attendant reported: the deed had been taken away by He Fangting.
“Such stupidity!” Jiang Zhixiu cursed aloud.
It was bad enough that they had failed—but to sell him out as well?
The thought that He Fangting now knew what he had done behind her back made his face burn hot. Yet deep down, he felt a strange relief.
In her hands, he had little to fear. He was the father of her two children. No matter how much she hated him, for their sake, she would not harm him.
That was what people called *throwing stones at rats, fearing to break the vessel*.
No, wrong word—he was no rat!
Jiang Zhixiu shook his head violently, as if to fling the word “rat” away.
Just then, a servant asked where to set the meal. Only then did he realize it was already dinnertime. He straightened his robes and went to Luomei Pavilion to dine with Xie Meiying.
He longed to be with her every moment, but since they were not yet married, he restrained himself.
Xie Meiying greeted him joyfully, light as a butterfly. “My Jiang-lang!”
Her bright, pure smile softened his heart. He took her hand and sat with her at the table.
Then his face darkened. “Where did this food come from?”
The maidservant answered cautiously, “From the main kitchen.”
The question was odd—where else could the household meals come from?
Jiang Zhixiu’s voice turned cold. “Clear it away. Have them remake it!”
The rice was clearly from last year’s stock—loose, dull, without fragrance.
The dishes numbered only three: steamed radish, salted green beans, and lotus root rib soup. The last counted as meat, but there was only a single rib and three slices of lotus root.
Meiying was the treasure of his heart—how dared they serve her such fare!
The maid agreed, but did not move.
Jiang Zhixiu barked, “Why haven’t you gone yet?”
The maid dropped to her knees, trembling. “Second Madam has ordered that any food beyond the allotted portion must be paid for with silver.”
Jiang Zhixiu grew even angrier. “So this is the portion she set for Luomei Pavilion? How does Li Xixiang manage the household! Did I waste those three thousand taels for nothing?”