Before long, fresh dishes arrived—chicken, duck, fish, and meat. The rice, though not the fine *bijing* grain He Fangting favored, still gleamed with fragrance. A pot of *Yulou Spring* wine accompanied it.
Only then did Jiang Zhixiu smile, rejoining Xie Meiying at the table. They drank and ate, reminiscing about their days in Huainan, and felt thoroughly content.
Meanwhile, Li Xixiang—whom he regarded as a mire—was venting her fury elsewhere.
“You little slut, cheap wench! Don’t think that crawling into the Master’s bed makes you some lofty branch! Give you a scrap of color and you open a whole dyehouse! Hmph! A slut is a slut—pauper’s face, dreaming of riches? Keep dreaming!”
The bedmaid Jin’er knelt respectfully, head bowed, listening. She felt no stir of emotion, for everyone in the room knew: Second Madam’s curses were not aimed at her, but at the pampered guest of Luomei Pavilion.
Li Xixiang raged for the length of a tea cup before her anger cooled. She had been married into the Jiang family for years, and Jiang Zhixiu had always treated her politely. Never had he shown such disregard as today. All thanks to that pretentious wretch, Xie Meiying!
She had supported Jiang Zhixiu’s plan to take two wives—marrying Meiying alongside Fangting—partly to flatter her elder brother-in-law, partly to see Fangting humiliated.
But now, it seemed her flattery was unappreciated, and Fangting neither wept nor raged, but carried herself with calm composure. No one laughed at her.
Instead, the Jiang household itself seemed to collapse overnight.
She had managed the household accounts with painstaking effort, yet gained little benefit.
Of the three thousand taels Jiang Zhixiu had given her, she had planned to keep two thousand. But her husband Jiang Linxiu claimed an urgent need and seized two thousand five hundred.
Only five hundred remained. She spent a hundred on jewelry, leaving four hundred. Not enough to last till New Year—barely enough for a month. To avoid exposure too soon, she had to find another way. She gathered her trusted matrons and decided to sell ice.
The Jiang estate had two great ice cellars—blocks stored in winter, used in summer. This year’s heat was extreme, and ice prices soared. Ice merchants made fortunes, but supply was scarce.
The Jiang family, having stored much, still had half remaining.
Li Xixiang calculated the household’s needs, then secretly sold one cellar’s worth to the largest ice merchant in the capital, earning eighteen hundred taels. Delighted, she sold two-thirds of the rest.
Thus, the estate’s ice supply dwindled.
To prevent Jiang Zhixiu from finding fault, she hardened her heart and reduced her own branch’s share as well. Her children sweltered, crying from the heat.
Jiang Chengzong and his wife, Madam Pan, were the first to suffer, scolding Li Xixiang bitterly. She wept, lamenting the hardship of managing the household, and finally appeased them with fifty taels.
But the heat remained. Without ice basins to cool them, the old couple could neither eat nor sleep, and soon lost several pounds.
Only then did Jiang Zhixiu truly realize the shamelessness of his brother’s wife.
She dared not confront him openly, but employed countless petty tricks behind the scenes.
Of course, he could threaten her with dividing the household, but long-term life could not be sustained on threats alone. Too many words of menace would only damage brotherly ties. Besides, as an official and magistrate, how could he spare the time to wrangle with her daily over such trifles?
The most reliable solution was to marry Meiying quickly and let her take charge of the household. But to marry Meiying, he first had to persuade He Fangting—and that was where the difficulty lay.
With no good plan at hand, he gave silver to his attendant Jiang Fu, instructing him to buy ice daily and deliver it to his study, Songrong Hall, and Luomei Pavilion, just to endure the blazing summer for now.
As for Yu’er and Ying’er, he need not worry—He Fangting would never let them suffer from the heat.
Having arranged these matters, Jiang Zhixiu felt at ease and returned to court from leave. Yet he overlooked one thing: this year’s ice price was more than five times that of previous years. In other words, the same amount of silver bought only one-fifth the ice it once did. The ice he added to Songrong Hall and Luomei Pavilion was but a drop in the bucket.
He Fangting, however, was delighted. The icehouse that had purchased Li Xixiang’s stock belonged to her. Reselling it brought her easy profit.
The icehouse where Jiang Fu bought ice was also hers. Though the earnings were less than from Li Xixiang’s sale, it was still income—and she could secretly laugh at Jiang Zhixiu.
Li Xixiang sold the estate’s ice at a high price, and he bought it back at an even higher one.
“Mother!”
He Fangting was laughing with her maids when her son Jiang Jiayu suddenly arrived.
He had inherited the fine looks of both parents—tall and graceful, with refined brows and eyes—a handsome young man much admired by the maidens of the capital.
“Yu’er! In this sweltering heat, you could have sent word through your page or maid. Why come yourself?”
She had not seen her son for several days, and her heart leapt with joy. She beckoned him to sit beside her.
At the moment, she reclined on a wide, soft couch embroidered with peonies on a pale green ground. It could seat two or three people, and when her children were small, they loved to crowd onto it with her to enjoy the cool.
But Jiang Jiayu frowned slightly and did not sit beside her. Instead, he chose the huanghuali chair at her lower side. His eyes swept the room and fell on a finely wrought redwood ice chest in the corner. Cool mist drifted from its vents, banishing the summer heat.
Outside, one broke into sweat with the slightest movement. Inside, it was cool and pleasant, a world apart.
On the top tier of the ice chest lay chilled melons, grapes, fragrant pears, and osmanthus plum soup—just the sight of them made the mouth water.
His mother had always known how to enjoy herself.
Jiang Jiayu’s brows furrowed even tighter.