Biqing’s hand paused mid-motion. “Miss, have you forgotten? These were bestowed by the palace just before the new year—three in total.”
Not just the new year’s gift—every festival and annual offering, the palace’s bestowal list never omitted the two mansions. Whenever gifts arrived, the Marchioness would always send them over for Ye Su to pick first.
Thus, compared to her other sisters’ cherishing of such items, her attitude was rather indifferent.
At this moment, she rolled her eyes. “Of course I remember these were bestowed by the palace, but didn’t I tell you to put them away? Why have you taken them out again?”
Everything on the dressing table was her usual items—this hadn’t been placed there before.
Thinking of that sickly little Jiang Zhaoyi sitting in her aunt’s palace, smiling at her from the seat of honor and saying, “Third Cousin has always taken great care of me since childhood, so of course I must bestow many fine things upon Third Cousin,” Ye Su secretly rolled her eyes again.
She didn’t want to use anything bestowed by that sickly little brat.
Biqing hurriedly said, “This was the Marchioness’s instruction a few days ago. She said your usual items are too plain, and today you must be properly adorned… you must not… must not be looked down upon.”
Because of Ye Su’s reputation as a husband-killer, though her name was never omitted from invitation lists at various gatherings, how could the strange looks from others be stopped? The Marchioness couldn’t swallow this either.
Needless to say, with imperial gifts worn on one’s person, who wouldn’t regard her with greater respect?
Ye Su wanted to tell her to switch back to her usual white jade hairpin, but Biqing kept persuading her otherwise. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Ye Su said impatiently, “Fine, fine, fine—this one it is.”
Jiang Zhaoyi had only recently come of age and had been busy wresting power from the ministers these past few years. He would probably do as before—send gifts but not come in person. Even if she wore it, he wouldn’t see it, so she might as well borrow his authority for a while.
With that thought, she let Biqing pin the plum-blossom hairpin into her hair.
Finally, Biqing added a few pearl-tasseled step-hairpins beside it.
Once certain nothing was missing, Ye Su rose from before the mirror. “Let’s go. Hongyu, remember to bring the birthday gift I prepared for Grandmother.”
Ye Su’s Fanxiang Courtyard was at the westernmost side of the mansion, some distance from the main courtyard. One had to pass through a small garden and two smaller courtyards in between, so by the time she reached the main courtyard, a quarter of an hour had passed.
Entering the room, she saw her parents. Her father, Marquis Anle, was forty-five this year—a handsome, refined-looking middle-aged man.
The Marchioness Anle was only a year younger than her husband, with an oval face and a slightly fuller figure. Since Ye Su was fifteen or sixteen, one could see she had inherited her mother’s build—tall and shapely, far more so than the willowy, delicate women of the capital.
“You’re here.” The Marchioness, who had been speaking in low tones with her two daughters-in-law, quickly looked up. Seeing the magnificent, precious plum-blossom hairpin in her daughter’s hair, she nodded with satisfaction.
“Greetings to Father, greetings to Mother.” In the room were not only her parents, but also her elder legitimate brother Ye Jiyu and his wife, her elder half-brother Ye Jichang and his wife, and her younger half-sister Ye Mo.
Except on important days, everyone usually came at staggered times to pay their respects—it was rare for everyone to be present today.
After greeting her parents, Ye Su then acknowledged the others before walking over to the seat deliberately left empty at her mother’s lower side and sitting down.
Seeing his youngest daughter’s lazy, listless manner, Marquis Anle sighed, pressed a hand to his forehead, and said, “Let’s eat.”
Outside the courtyard, the morning mist had yet to fully disperse, but a faint sweetness was already drifting through the main courtyard’s flower hall.
A plain Hangzhou silk tablecloth covered the long rosewood table. At the center sat a silver hotpot engraved with interlocking lotus patterns, the silver-thread charcoal beneath burning brightly, warming the surrounding celadon dishes and dispelling the early autumn chill from everyone.
The Marchioness Anle wore a gold-and-kingfisher step-hairpin at her temple and was gently stirring the rice-and-lily-porridge in her bowl with a silver spoon.
A few crimson goji berries floated on the porridge’s surface, and beside it, small dishes held finely sliced pickled cucumber and fermented bean curd—both made by the back kitchen’s secret recipes.
Ye Su, meanwhile, ordered a bowl of almond custard and ate it slowly—the milky-white custard sprinkled with a fine layer of osmanthus petals.
Before her also sat her favorite crab-roe soup dumplings. Ye Su didn’t stand on ceremony—three bites per dumpling, and with impeccable table manners, she quickly polished off the entire basket.
Seeing how heartily she ate, Ye Jiyu, the eldest son of Marquis Anle, exchanged a glance with his wife, née Yuan.
Then Yuan Qing cleared her throat. “So today, the two younger sisters will join the two younger cousins from the East Manor in hosting the young ladies of the various families?”
Normally, such matters needed no explanation—when a host family held a banquet, the men entertained in the front courtyard while the women socialized in the rear. Married and unmarried women usually kept to their own circles, and it was perfectly reasonable for the host family to divide the hosting duties accordingly.
But Ye Su was a variable. She didn’t get along with the other women, and her age was awkward—the noble ladies she’d grown up with had all long since married and had children, moving into the sphere of household socializing.
Those who remained unmarried were too young, and Ye Su sitting among them would seem out of place—not being of the same generation, they’d have nothing to talk about.
So in the past, at such gatherings, Ye Su went to neither side and entertained herself. But today, she was also part of the host family, so she couldn’t very well hide away.
“The three younger sisters are more than enough to handle the hosting. If anything’s needed, just call for me,” Ye Su said.
Ye Mo, who had been mentioned by Ye Su, looked up, her gaze sweeping briefly over the plum blossom hairpin in Ye Su’s hair before she hurriedly lowered her head again.
As a concubine-born daughter of the household, she naturally had no room to voice her opinion in front of the entire room. Yuan Shi didn’t even glance at her, only nodding and continuing with her meal. The table fell silent once more.
The Marchioness Anle set down her small bowl, and a maid handed her a handkerchief to dab at the corners of her mouth before she spoke unhurriedly: “Today, Su’er, you will stay by my side.”
Ye Su keenly caught her mother’s meaning—she was preparing to find her a husband again.
She knew that unless she shaved her head and became a nun, a daughter of a family like theirs could not avoid marriage.
As long as she remained unmarried, her younger sister Ye Mo could not properly discuss marriage prospects either. Ye Su had heard that Ye Mo’s birth mother had gone to their father crying about it several times already.
Given the fuss she had made when Marquis Jinheng’s son died, the fact that she had managed to drag things out this long was already beyond her expectations.
“Whose family?” she asked directly.
“Ahem.” Caught off guard by their daughter’s bluntness, the Marchioness Anle gave a light cough and reached under the table to poke her husband’s waist.
Marquis Anle’s brows shot up: “A young lady like you should just let your parents arrange your marriage properly—” Then his tone softened. “General Jingyuan’s mother will be coming today. Make sure you present yourself well.”
His tone was firm at first, but when he met his daughter’s expressionless face, Marquis Anle’s straightened back gradually slumped, and his voice shifted from stern to weak.
There was nothing he could do. The previous two marriage arrangements had been decided by them after careful consideration, and both had failed. They bore much of the responsibility for the delay, and it had even saddled their daughter with the reputation of being a husband-killer.
If not for the Ye family’s backing from the current Emperor and Empress Dowager, given the Guogong family’s standing, Ye Su might have been forced to marry into that household as a virgin widow back then.
Ye Su lowered her eyes, pondering over this man, General Jingyuan.