He Fangting did not notice her son’s unease. She busied herself telling Qing Hao to bring him fruit and juice, smiling as she said, “Eat some fruit to cool off—but not too much, lest it upset your stomach.”
Jiang Jiayu spoke in a low, heavy voice. “Mother… how could you bear it?”
She blinked, not understanding. “What?”
His chest rose and fell. “Today I went to Songrong Hall to pay respects. Grandfather and Grandmother are suffering terribly from the heat—unable to eat or sleep, their faces already showing illness. Yet here… Mother, how could you bear it!”
He Fangting stared at her own son for several breaths, her expression darkening. “Yu’er… are you accusing me?”
Jiang Jiayu dared not bear the charge of accusing his mother. He swept aside his robe and knelt.
“Your son would never! Only—when I first began my studies, Mother taught me: *Respect the elders of others as you would your own; cherish the children of others as you would your own.* If even strangers deserve such care, how could our own kin be neglected? Mother, because of your quarrel with Father, you ignore Grandfather and Grandmother. I believe this violates filial duty. I beg you to repent and set an example!”
He Fangting gazed at him, her mind ringing, with only one thought: Is this truly the child I bore in ten months of hardship? He could feel compassion for his grandparents—why not for his own mother?
Jiang Jiayu shuffled forward on his knees, pleading earnestly. “Mother, the whole family is watching you! You must not take a wrong step and ruin the good name you’ve built over the years!”
He Fangting asked slowly, “In Yu’er’s view… what should your mother do?”
Thinking she had yielded, he brightened. “Nothing more than before—resume managing the household, so Father may devote himself to court affairs without distraction.”
She drew a deep breath. “Do you know why I no longer manage the household?”
He hesitated. “…I know.”
“Since you know, why do you press me?”
“I do not press you, only wish to reason with you!”
“Then take your reasoning to your father!”
The words tumbled out of him: “Father has committed no great wrong!”
At that, everyone in the room froze, staring at him.
After a long silence, He Fangting spoke, each word heavy. “You believe… your father is blameless?”
So that was it.
He believed his father innocent—therefore he disregarded her feelings, befriended Xie Rongmo as if they were brothers.
Having let slip his true heart, Jiang Jiayu pressed on boldly. “Yes! My father is not wrong! In principle, marrying two wives under *jiantiao* is to continue the incense for my uncle who died young. Mother has no reason to oppose it. In affection, Father and Aunt Xie understand each other deeply, their hearts and minds aligned. Why can’t you be generous and fulfill their peerless love?”
He Fangting had countless words of rebuttal and reproach, but they stuck in her throat, unspeakable. Had anyone else dared utter such outrageous words before her, she would never have tolerated it. She would have made them weep bitterly—or else, she was no daughter of the He family.
But this was her son—the child she had watched grow day by day!
When he was first born, he was smaller than her arm, a bundle of jade-like innocence. When he learned to walk, tottering step by step, holding him in her arms felt like life’s fulfillment, pure joy. She would rather hurt herself than harm him in the slightest.
Qing Hao, unable to endure further, rashly spoke out in anger. “Young Master, how can you say such things? If Her Ladyship does not yield, does that make her a bad person? And besides—Her Ladyship is neither your father nor your mother. Why must she be forced to sacrifice herself for them?”
Jiang Jiayu had long thought his mother’s maids too insolent, too sharp-tongued, and that her poor judgment was much influenced by their meddling. He said coldly, “I am speaking with my mother. How dare you interrupt? What kind of propriety is this?”
Qing Hao quickly knelt to beg forgiveness.
He Fangting rubbed her temples, weary. “My maidservants are not yours to discipline.” She raised her hand, signaling Qing Hao to rise.
After a pause, she said, “Yu’er, you should go back now.”
She needed to think carefully—where had things gone wrong? Why was her son, who ought to defend her, standing wholly on Jiang Zhixiu’s side?
But Jiang Jiayu, without a clear answer, refused to leave. “Mother, Father has always respected you. His affection for Aunt Xie does not diminish your place in this household. Aunt Xie is different from you—she is like a blade of grass, clinging beneath Father’s wings, unable to harm anyone. Why, why can’t you tolerate her?”
He Fangting turned her head slightly, hiding the tears in her eyes.
This was her son—her own flesh and blood! Bone of her bone, flesh of her flesh—yet he had grown into a blade that pierced her. Did he think his mother could not feel pain?
“Attend! Escort the Young Master back!”
Two sturdy maids stepped forward to support Jiang Jiayu.
“No need—I’ll go myself!” He rose angrily, bowed, and said, “Your son hopes Mother will soon think it through!”
At the doorway, he turned back, casting a complicated glance at her.
In truth, he was not surprised that she refused to bless Father and Aunt Xie. For his mother, after all, did not understand true love. Her heart was filled only with power, status, and calculation—cold and hard. After so many years with her, Father must have grown weary. That was why he turned to the gentle, tender Aunt Xie.