Lady Zhu masked her internal judgment perfectly, playing the part of the warm, welcoming hostess so convincingly that Xie Yuechan truly believed she was a woman of exceptional heart.
After all, Xie Yuechan had only skimmed through the original novel. She remembered the main romance and the tragic “death-by-stupidity” path of her own namesake, but the book hadn’t wasted much ink on the mundane details of the first and second branches of the family.
Touched by the hospitality, Xie Yuechan didn’t lose sight of her objective. Once settled, she broached the subject: “Eldest Sister-in-law, I’ve decided to clean up the small kitchen in our courtyard. I’ll likely be cooking there quite often, so I thought it best to handle things ourselves rather than constantly troubling the main kitchen.”
Lady Zhu’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Her mind raced through several possibilities before she offered a teasing, knowing look. “Is my Third Sister-in-law planning to nourish my brother’s health?”
She assumed Xie Yuechan was trying to win over Gu Jing’an—perhaps by simmering restorative soups or preparing late-night snacks to send to his study. It was a common enough tactic. When Gu Jun was buried in work, Lady Zhu herself would often send a tray to his rooms to remind him to rest, all for the sake of maintaining their marital bond.
Still, opening a private kitchen was an unnecessary expense. Lady Zhu knew full well this marriage wouldn’t last more than a few years; why bother with the hassle?
“Er… something like that?” Xie Yuechan replied. “For lunches, dinners, and so on.”
She could hardly admit the truth: that she was simply a glutton who missed good food. Gu Jing’an was a convenient excuse, and since she had shared lunch with him today, it wasn’t a total lie.
“Is the food from the main kitchen not to your liking?” Lady Zhu asked softly. “It’s not difficult to open a private kitchen, but there is no precedent for it in either my or the Second Sister-in-law’s quarters. I’m not quite sure how to handle the monthly allowance for it. I’ll have to report this to Mother and discuss it with her before we can make a final decision.”
Lady Zhu thought the main kitchen’s food was perfectly fine. Gu Jing’an had never complained before; surely Xie Yuechan was just being difficult. By deferring to the Old Matriarch, Lady Zhu ensured that even if the request was denied, she wouldn’t have to play the villain.
Unaware of Lady Zhu’s internal calculations, Xie Yuechan saw her hesitation and assumed she was simply stressed. She once had a friend in finance who spent her days caught in a tug-of-war between her boss and persistent applicants; it was a miserable position to be in.
She felt a wave of sympathy for Lady Zhu. So young, yet tasked with managing an entire manor and keeping everyone in line, all while under the thumb of a formidable mother-in-law. To Xie Yuechan, Lady Zhu seemed like a hardworking “Big Sister” who remained kind despite the pressure.
Xie Yuechan stuffed the last half of her pastry into her mouth, swallowed hard, and spoke up with a sense of chivalry: “Sister-in-law, please don’t worry yourself. I’ll cover all the expenses for the kitchen personally—we don’t need to use the communal funds. I really just came to ask for a permission pass so I can do things properly. That way, when my maids need to go out for ingredients, they won’t have to bother you every single time.”
Oh.
Lady Zhu had almost forgotten. Xie Yuechan had come with a dowry prepared by the Grand Princess herself. Years ago, the Grand Princess’s wedding had been legendary—ten miles of red silk and enough wealth to last several lifetimes. Since the Marchioness of Heyang had no legitimate sons, that vast fortune had trickled down to Xie Yuechan.
Lady Zhu’s prepared excuses stuck in her throat. She swallowed them down. If the family funds weren’t being touched, there was no reason to object.
Still, she felt a pang of stifled resentment. While she looked down on Xie Yuechan’s lack of decorum, she couldn’t help but envy that massive dowry. She certainly didn’t have that kind of financial freedom.
She picked up a pastry with elegant, slender fingers and took a tiny bite—perhaps a tenth of the cake. “Well, if that is your wish. However, for daily shopping, your maids need only inform the main kitchen staff. The people by your side should stay focused on serving you, after all.”
Lady Zhu wasn’t about to let just anyone wander in and out of the manor gates; it made her management look lax. Had it been anyone else, she might have agreed, but she didn’t trust Xie Yuechan’s people.
Having achieved her goal, Xie Yuechan was over the moon. She bid her farewells, and though Lady Zhu politely insisted she stay longer, Xie Yuechan was tactful enough not to linger.
As she watched her sister-in-law leave the courtyard, Lady Zhu let out a long, weary sigh. She turned to her eldest daughter, Gu Yuanhui. “Where is your young uncle?”
“He left just a moment ago,” the girl replied.
By “Young Uncle,” Lady Zhu meant Gu Changsheng. He had been given the name—meaning “Long Life”—because the Old Matriarch had conceived him at an advanced age. Her health had been fragile, and a sudden shock at eight months pregnant had triggered a premature birth. The boy had entered the world as tiny and weak as a newborn kitten.
Miraculously, he had clung to life. Grand Preceptor Gu gave him his name in the hope that he would simply remain healthy and live a long, peaceful life, without the pressure of achieving great things. Even now, both the Matriarch and Changsheng took medicinal tonics twice a week to bolster their constitutions.
As Xie Yuechan walked back with her maids, she heard a rustle behind her. She spun around to find a pair of bright, dark eyes staring at her from above. It was Gu Changsheng.
He was perched precariously on a tree branch, his attendants nowhere in sight. Xie Yuechan’s heart skipped a beat. Given how frail the boy was, the Matriarch guarded him like a precious treasure; he was rarely allowed out except for his studies, let alone permitted to climb trees.
Seeing her stop, Changsheng peeked through the leaves and spoke politely. “Greetings, Third Sister-in-law.”
Unlike the others, he harbored no grudge against her. Cooped up in the manor his whole life with only his young nieces and nephews for company, he had no outside friends and knew nothing of Xie Yuechan’s past reputation. He only knew that his parents and third brother didn’t seem to like her very much.
If they don’t like her, why did they get married? he wondered.
In his eyes, his new sister-in-law was a pitiful figure—disliked by her husband, shunned by her in-laws, and even whispered about by the servants. He thought she looked perfectly nice, and he had even forbidden his own attendants from gossiping about her.
“Why aren’t you playing with the fish anymore, Little Uncle?” Xie Yuechan asked. The term “Fourth Brother” sounded phonetically unlucky to the Old Matriarch, so Xie Yuechan followed Lady Zhu’s lead in using his family title.
“Boring,” Changsheng replied with a shrug. He couldn’t understand the appeal of watching two fish circle a tub; weren’t there plenty more in the garden ponds?
Xie Yuechan let out a soft laugh. “Well then, would you like to come back with me to see your third brother?”
“…Third Brother is even more boring,” Changsheng sighed, shaking his head. Among all his siblings, his third brother was the champion of dullness—his entire world consisted of books, calligraphy, and official documents.
“Pfft…”
Xie Yuechan clapped her hands, genuinely charmed by the boy’s bluntness. She couldn’t help but agree with him. “Fair enough. Well, if you’re just going to be by yourself… Oh! I had some milk delivered this morning. I was planning to make a dessert, but I suspect your brother doesn’t care much for sweets. Why don’t you come wait in our courtyard for a bit? I’ll bring some out once it’s ready, and you can be my official taste-tester.”
It was a white lie. She could easily have finished the portion herself, but the “Little Uncle” looked so lonely and isolated that she felt a tug at her heartstrings. She just wanted to make him something that might cheer him up.
I really am far too kind, she thought to herself.
“I… Alright,” Changsheng agreed. He had intended to say that he hated milk—it was always so gamey—but he found himself softening under her expectant gaze.
Fine, fine, he thought. Who else in this manor is willing to talk to this poor lady? I really am far too kind.
The two of them, one large and one small, made their way back to Falling Snow Residence.
“Changsheng?”
Gu Jing’an, who had spent the afternoon in a drowsy fog without absorbing a single page of text, had stepped outside for some fresh air while his wife was away. Seeing her return with his notoriously introverted younger brother in tow, he was utterly stunned.