After gaining Zhou Yu’s support, Zhao E acted arrogantly and with the domineering air of a spoiled noble. Add to that the embellishments of Jiang Qingrou and her daughter, and all sorts of slanderous rumors about her circulated in the streets.
She rarely attended banquets and never defended herself. Over time, her reputation became somewhat difficult to describe.
Meng Ziqi was the legitimate son of Meng Jianyuan, sworn to follow in his father’s footsteps. He always spoke out for justice and hated evil as if it were his enemy.
He was a rigid and upright man. Now serving in the Ministry of Revenue, he was most particular about etiquette and rules, so naturally he could not tolerate the existence of a woman like Zhao E in the world.
Therefore, Meng Ziqi once angrily composed a poem to belittle and condemn Zhao E, which for a time was praised as a fine tale.
Zhao E had heard that poem several times when Zhao Ruxiu mocked her, but she never took it to heart, merely laughing it off.
Empty fame was like dust to her. She did not care at all what others said about her.
“Dare I, dare I ask…” Meng Ziqi took out an object. “This, this tassel—did the young lady drop it?”
He kept his head lowered, holding the eye-catching crimson tassel as if it were scalding to the touch, trembling slightly.
Zhao E looked down and saw that indeed one of the tassels on her jade pendant had fallen off.
“It’s mine. Thank you.” She reached out to take it and gave him a brilliant smile.
Meng Ziqi was dazed again.
Only after Zhao E and Ye Ruoling had walked away together did he blankly open his mouth: “You’re… welcome…”
In a corner of the great hall, five or six matrons were gathered around Jiang Chen-niang chatting.
Jiang Chen-niang seemed to enjoy being the center of attention, speaking with great relish.
“Wait a moment, I have something to do.” Zhao E let go of Ye Ruoling’s hand.
Ye Ruoling casually found a seat, propped her chin on her hand, and watched the excitement with a grin.
“Auntie, so you’re here.” Zhao E walked into the crowd and took Jiang Chen-niang’s arm, speaking with great intimacy.
“Look, here comes the wronged party.” As soon as Jiang Chen-niang saw her, her face filled with distress. She took Zhao E’s hand and patted it repeatedly.
“Oh, so this is your eldest branch’s newly added daughter-in-law?”
“She’s so striking in appearance, and looks so obedient too—different from the rumors…”
“That child of your eldest branch, his health should be fine, right? Didn’t he already take a concubine before? Surely you haven’t made a mistake…”
Those ladies, idle in their inner chambers day after day, finally found Jiang Chen-niang willing to talk—and about such an important private matter as Jiang Huaifu being useless, no less. Naturally they seized on it, sizing up Zhao E and speaking one after another.
“Oh my!” Jiang Chen-niang furrowed her brows. “This is a matter of continuing the family line—how could I be mistaken? If you don’t believe me, let this wronged party speak for herself!”
As she spoke, she patted Zhao E’s hand again.
“Auntie…” Zhao E’s eyes reddened, looking utterly aggrieved. “This kind of thing—how do you expect me to say it…”
“Just tell the truth!” Jiang Chen-niang glanced at her sideways.
She had come today specifically to spread this matter. The more useless Jiang Huaifu was, the more likely she could take over as the matriarch of the Fuguo Duke’s Residence.
Zhao E said nothing, only leaning against her arm, sobbing and raising her hand to wipe her tears.
“Look at her—still a virgin girl, she can’t bring herself to say it.” Jiang Chen-niang immediately said.
“It’s been nearly a month since the wedding. Surely she isn’t still intact?”
One of the ladies spoke up and asked.
Zhao E merely nodded gently, weeping without stop.
The ladies immediately began to discuss it among themselves.
Before long, Jiang Chen-niang’s words seemed to grow wings, spreading to every corner of the great hall.
Previously, it was merely rumors circulating among the common folk, but now the second madam of the Fuguo Duke’s Residence had spoken of it personally, and Zhao E had admitted it too—this was truly extraordinary.
Jiang Huaifu entered the great hall and headed toward where the young men were gathered.
He was a fellow student with them, and they all knew each other well.
Meng Ziqi was gathered with several former classmates, listening to them chatting and laughing, but his mind was elsewhere the entire time.
“He’s here.”
Someone gave a warning, and the laughter and chatter immediately stopped.
“You all looked like you were having such a good time from a distance—why did you stop talking the moment I arrived?” Jiang Huaifu’s expression was somewhat ugly.
Ever since he’d heard such talk at the teahouse yesterday, whenever he saw anyone gathered together, it seemed like they were talking about him.
“Brother Jiang, don’t misunderstand—we weren’t talking about you…”
Someone spoke up to explain, while others burst out laughing.
Jiang Huaifu’s expression grew even uglier. Wasn’t this just protesting too much?
“Those rumors are all false. Don’t believe them.” Jiang Huaifu’s face was ashen as he flicked his robe and sat down.
This matter concerned his masculine dignity—he would never admit it.
“Brother Jiang, I heard from the courtesan that you couldn’t even get it in while holding it up—is that true?”
Du Zhenqing, the legitimate eldest son of Grand Tutor Du, had been on bad terms with Jiang Huaifu since their school days, and asked under the pretense of joking.
The crowd immediately roared with laughter.
“A wife of such stunning beauty, and she’ll have to live as a widow the moment she marries in—alas!”
“Brother Jiang, if you don’t mind, I could send you a hat to wear…”
Naturally, some chimed in with jokes.
“Get lost!”
Jiang Huaifu kicked over the small table in front of him and stormed off in a rage.
“Flying into a rage out of humiliation!”
“Hit a nerve, didn’t it!”
The young men burst into laughter again.
“Say, is that one in the crimson dress Jiang Huaifu’s wife?” Meng Ziqi looked in Zhao E’s direction.
“Who else would it be?” Du Zhenqing glanced over too.
“What’s her name?” Meng Ziqi clenched his hands tightly.
“Zhao E,” Du Zhenqing said. “Brother Meng doesn’t recognize her? This is the very Zhao E you once wrote poems to mock.”
Hearing this, Meng Ziqi sat there dumbfounded for a long while, and suddenly had a strong urge to slap himself twice.
After Princess Le Tao arrived, everyone took their seats and the banquet began.
Zhao E and Ye Ruoling sat together, and from their position, they could just see Zhou Yu and Zhao Yuehua seated adjacent to each other.
Zhou Yu was as expressionless as ever, his face like still water without a ripple, while Zhao Yuehua wore a sweet, shy expression—they looked very well-matched.
“You’re just going to let them carry on like this?” Ye Ruoling leaned in and asked her in a low voice.
“We’ve agreed,” Zhao E took a sip of fruit wine, her red lips glistening. “Non-interference.”
“Tsk, you’re really generous.” Ye Ruoling took a bite of food. “If it were me, with such a handsome young man, I wouldn’t let anyone else touch him until I’d had my fill of playing with him.”
“When he gets married, it’ll be over.” Zhao E glanced toward Zhou Yu.
“What?” Ye Ruoling paused her chopsticks. “You don’t have even a little attachment?”
“Once it’s dirty, you throw it away. What’s there to be attached to?” Zhao E set down her wine cup.
Over there, Zhao Yuehua had already risen and, along with a group of noble ladies, stood in the center of the great hall, preparing to present the “Shixin Wu.”
This was a dance to give thanks to the gods, expressing appreciation for rice and grain and repaying the bounty of heaven and earth.
Zhao E had no interest in it whatsoever, and chatted with Ye Ruoling while drinking quite a bit of fruit wine.
When the banquet dispersed, Ling Feng helped Zhao E out of Taiyi Dian and headed toward the horse-hitching area.
“Miss Zhao.” Meng Ziqi followed all the way, mustered his courage, and called out.
Zhao E glanced back, her apricot eyes hazy as she looked at him and smiled. “It’s you, Young Master Meng. Is something the matter?”
Under the moonlight, a faint blush crept over her fair cheeks, like thin clouds veiling the moon—a beauty beyond words.
Because of the fruit wine, her smile carried a hint of charming innocence she rarely showed on ordinary days.
“I came to apologize to you, miss.” Meng Ziqi’s heart began to pound again. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and bowed to her with solemn respect. “I was rash before. You are by no means what the rumors in the streets claim.
I truly should not have followed the crowd and joined in slandering you. I am willing to apologize to you publicly.”
“There is no need for that, Lord Meng.” Zhao E waved her hand with a smile. “What you said wasn’t entirely wrong.”
“You don’t blame me?” Meng Ziqi was stunned.
He had assumed that Zhao E remained calm because she didn’t know his identity—didn’t know he was the one who had written the poem insulting her.
So she had known all along?
And she truly didn’t mind at all?
“Everything you said was right, so why would I blame you?” Zhao E let out a soft laugh. “It’s getting late, Lord Meng. You should return and rest.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
Meng Ziqi stood rooted to the spot, unable to snap out of it for a long while.
“Young Prince.”
Ling Feng caught sight of the figure ahead and quickly knelt in salute.
Zhou Yu said nothing as he stepped forward, bent down, and scooped Zhao E into his arms, then slipped sideways into the cave of a nearby rockery.