Shen Qingyin lifted her teacup, took a sip, and looked expressionlessly at the group of managers standing before the table, saying word by word: "In that case—"
"If you gentlemen truly cannot produce the silver, then I shall have no choice but to follow procedure and present each of your account books directly to the Old Madam."
The Old Madam?
At these words, the private room instantly fell silent.
The managers, who moments before had been brazen and self-assured, all paled at once, their smiles freezing on their faces. They exchanged glances, and in the instant their panicked eyes met, their faces were filled with unconcealable dread and guilt.
Liang Wanyou had managed the Pei household's affairs for decades and had always been strict, tolerating not a single grain of sand in her sight. Of all the estate's businesses, farms, and shops, anyone who dared to fudge the accounts or skim off the top was, at the lightest, dismissed from their post and docked wages, and at the worst, sent straight to the authorities for prosecution—there was never any leniency.
The Young Madam was young and gentle, and these past few months, dealing with her, they had been able to stall and prevaricate somewhat. But they would never dare play tricks in front of the Old Madam.
Their negligence vanished in an instant, replaced by utter unease.
But there were still plenty of rotten entries in their account books. If they truly submitted them like this, then…
"Gentlemen, why must you be like this?"
Just as they were hesitating, the female manager of the Yingluo Pleasure Boat spoke up first, saying forthrightly: "The Young Madam is merely checking the accounts according to the rules. Submitting our accounts on time is our duty. Let us quickly bring out the account books and not trouble the Old Madam with this."
Manager Wang's lips moved, about to offer another excuse to stall, when he heard the three servants standing at Shen Qingyin's side suddenly step forward half a pace, slamming the scabbards in their hands heavily against the floor.
"Thud—thud—thud—"
The three heavy sounds seemed as if they might smash through the floorboards, making their hearts tremble.
The managers all shuddered violently, their last vestiges of wishful thinking shattered completely. No longer daring to delay, they reluctantly took out their account books one by one, stacked them neatly, and gently placed them on the table beside Shen Qingyin.
After everyone had dispersed, Zhuling leaned in and whispered: "Madam, I hear this Yingluo Pleasure Boat is a business the Eldest Young Master personally established when he was sixteen. Who would have thought its manager would speak up on your behalf."
After all, in the past few months, the manager of the Yingluo Pleasure Boat hadn't come at all—she had merely sent someone to deliver the accounts directly to the residence.
Surely the Eldest Young Master must hold the Madam in his heart, and had specially instructed the manager to come today to help her.
Shen Qingyin seemed not to have heard, but Nanny Qing counseled her: "Eldest Madam, it is true that invoking the Old Madam's name can cow them, but in the future you will have to manage the household yourself. Carrying on like this in the long run is no solution…"
The Madam had been married into the Pei family for three years before the Old Madam was finally willing to grant her a little authority. She ought to seize this opportunity to properly establish her authority.
"What comes later can be dealt with later." Shen Qingyin cut her off, still wearing that same air of indifference to everything.
Nanny Qing sighed.
Before long, the door of the private room was gently pushed open. A woman lifted the curtain and entered, removing her veiled hat to reveal features that bore a three-part resemblance to Shen Qingyin's.
It was her birth mother, Madam Shen, Mrs. Chen.
Mrs. Chen handed the veiled hat and the brocade box of tea leaves to Nanny Qing, then seated herself beside Shen Qingyin of her own accord.
Shen Qingyin nodded to her and called out: "Mother."
On the eighth day of every month, she had to leave the residence to collect the account books from all the shops on Liang Wanyou's behalf, and by coincidence, her mother would also bring her younger sister Shen Qingniang to the west of the city on this same day to collect the accounts from the Shen family's medicine shop.
Taking advantage of this occasion, the mother and daughters would gather for a short while each month in a private room at Qingfeng Restaurant.
Mrs. Chen glanced over the dishes on the table, and her gaze finally settled on the plate of fiery red spicy stir-fried diced chicken. Her brow furrowed, and she said with displeasure, "You've loved heavily spiced food since you were little. Three years after marrying into the Pei household, and you still haven't broken this habit?"
Of all the dishes on the table, every one was light and refined except the spicy diced chicken, which glared a piercing red.
Shen Qingyin said indifferently, "Mother, there's no need to say this every month. I've explained many times—I never eat such things in the Pei residence. Whatever the kitchen makes, that's what I eat. Only when I'm with you and Qingniang do I indulge myself a little."
"Even in front of your own family, I can't let you have your way." Mrs. Chen picked up her chopsticks and took a bite of plain greens, her tone carrying a hint of lecturing.
"In the past, only soldiers and peddlers loved such heavily seasoned food. You are now the principal wife of the Pei family. If your in-laws were to learn that you love spicy food, I'm afraid they would criticize the Shen family for failing to teach you proper manners."
Shen Qingyin frowned, not wanting to listen to more nagging, and changed the subject. "Mother, why didn't Qingniang come with you today?"
"Don't even get me started!" Mrs. Chen pursed her lips, her tone growing ever more dissatisfied.
"It's all because of that 'Yongxu' academy run by your so-called friend. You insisted I take Qingniang there to study every day. I said it would be fine to hire a tutor to teach her at home, but you refused! You have no idea how expensive your friend's academy is. If it weren't for the medicine shop your father left behind, which barely supports me and your two younger siblings—"
Mrs. Chen grew more and more agitated. "If you ask me, Qingniang is just like Conglang—studying at home is perfectly fine. Why must she go out and show her face in public!"
"Mother, why must you put things so unpleasantly?" Shen Qingyin had only just picked up her chopsticks. She had already had a poor appetite lately, and hearing these words made her appetite vanish almost entirely.
"Qingniang is merely going to an academy to study. How does that become 'showing her face in public' in your mouth? Conglang is a man. This world has always been lenient toward men—whether he takes the imperial examinations or becomes a teacher in the future, he'll do well. But Qingniang is a woman—"
"That's enough!" Mrs. Chen cut her off. "Say no more."
"You're the principal wife of the Pei family now, the wife of the Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review. When I, your own mother, say a couple of words to you, you don't like hearing them. Fine, I'll say nothing then."
Those words again.
Shen Qingyin felt a tightness in her chest, choked by these words. A surge of pent-up frustration welled up inside her, and even the anger she had barely suppressed earlier began to rise. Her appetite vanished entirely, and she slammed her chopsticks against the rim of her celadon bowl with a "clank," producing a sharp, crisp sound.
Mrs. Chen was startled by the sound and paused, casting a sideways glance at her daughter. "What is the matter with you? We're having a perfectly good meal, and you're slamming your chopsticks?"
With that, she pulled a book out of the bundle she carried and tossed it, not too lightly and not too heavily, in front of Shen Qingyin, snapping:
"And to think I actually remembered your instructions from when we met last month, and went to great pains to find this book for you. And this is how you treat me—making faces at your own mother. I wonder if you'd dare be so defiant in your husband's household."
Shen Qingyin ignored her and simply reached out to take the book, but before she could even make out the cover, she heard Mrs. Chen muttering beside her:
"How strange. In the past, getting you to study was like forcing a duck onto a perch—you only loved riding horses and practicing archery with your father and elder brother. How is it that after marrying, you've started seeking out books on your own? I flipped through it, and I don't see anything special about it at all."
Shen Qingyin still ignored her and began leafing through the book.
Seeing this, Mrs. Chen gave up on eating altogether and launched into another topic.
"Ever since you married into the Pei family, I've written letters to your mother-in-law, but she's never once replied. Only a few days ago did she send word through someone, asking if I had any prescriptions to aid conception, and telling me to find a few doses to send to you. I had them delivered first thing this morning."
Only then did Shen Qingyin understand why Liang Wanyou had suddenly mentioned delivering medicine to her that morning.
Mrs. Chen continued, "That's a prescription I specially prepared at our own apothecary. As long as you take it on schedule, I guarantee it will help you bear a son! Your parents-in-law are eager for a legitimate grandson—you ought to put some effort into it too."
Shen Qingyin gave an "mm" in response, but then Mrs. Chen lowered her voice, leaned in close, and admonished her, "Remember this, just as I told you when you got married—after the deed, don't rush off to the privy. Place a pillow under your hips; it makes it easier to conceive."
Shen Qingyin's ears flushed hot, and she kept reading.
Mrs. Chen went on, "The Pei family is a prestigious house of several hundred years, not like our Shen family with our humble origins. Look at Second Branch's Madam Wei and Madam Zhang—they only got their names into the family genealogy by bearing sons. You must bear a son too, preferably several, so that when you pass on a hundred years from now, your name will be in the Pei family genealogy."
"Otherwise, you'll simply be a nameless Pei family wife, without even a proper title left behind."
Shen Qingyin lowered her eyes, twirling a page between her fingertips, and said calmly, "Even if I bore a son, my name wouldn't be in the genealogy—at most it would say 'Madam Shen,' two characters. The Madam Wei and Madam Zhang you mentioned have been married into the Pei family for so long and have borne sons, yet even I don't know their given names to this day. They only know my surname is Shen. Who would remember my name?"
She saw it clearly. "Sons are the same. In the future, he will only be a son of the Pei family—he won't even remember who his mother was, let alone understand the suffering she endured carrying him for ten months. Whether or not I bear a son, whether or not my name is in the genealogy—what does it matter?"
Having Tang-jie'er was enough for her.
These words were like a basin of cold water dumped over Mrs. Chen's head. She was so angry she could barely catch her breath, glaring at Shen Qingyin, feeling that her daughter was utterly impervious to reason and would listen to no advice no matter what. She could only glare resentfully, sweeping her gaze over her daughter from head to toe, growing more displeased the longer she looked.
Mrs. Chen first complained that Shen Qingyin's hair wasn't combed neatly, then criticized her for wearing small-toed shoes while collecting accounts, calling her brainless—until her gaze landed on the jade pendant at her waist, and her tone grew even heavier.
"And another thing—why are you still wearing this jade pendant? Every time we meet, I remind you to stop wearing this thing. If your husband finds out—"
"Mother." Shen Qingyin set down the book and turned her head, her gaze fixed directly on her.
"If you keep prattling on like this, I don't think we need to meet again next month."
Mrs. Chen was choked into silence by her daughter's sudden cold, hard tone. Her lips moved twice, but in the end she dared not utter another word, and sulkily shut her mouth.
Her daughter Yinniang, before marriage, had been bold and unrestrained, yet endlessly considerate toward her as a mother. Whatever troubles weighed on her heart, she could pour them all out to Yinniang, and Yinniang would always stand up for her.
How was it that now, after marrying, she seemed like a completely different person…
Mother and daughter sat in silence for a while. Then Shen Qingyin reminded Mrs. Chen to keep a close eye on Qingniang's marriage prospects—if any gentleman's family came forward to propose, Mrs. Chen was to send word to her at once.
Only after Mrs. Chen readily agreed did Shen Qingyin put away her books, stack the account ledgers neatly, and depart with Nanny Qing and Zhuling.
The mistress and her two servants, accompanied by household servants, went in turn to the east, north, and south of the city, checking the monthly accounts of each shop one by one. After all that rushing about, Shen Qingyin was utterly exhausted in body and mind.
Fortunately, no problems were found in the ledgers.
On the return journey, she boarded the carriage back to the residence. The wheels rumbled over the road, jostling and swaying gently, lulling one toward drowsiness. Leaning against the soft brocade cushions, Shen Qingyin's eyelids slowly drooped, and before she knew it, she had fallen into a deep sleep.
A hazy dream came over her once more—again it was that boundless green plain, with mighty winds sweeping across, the grass stretching to meet the sky.
Her younger self rode the little pony that man had given her, the cool wind rushing against her face, whipping the pony's mane into the air.
Beside her, Luo Yu urged her horse alongside. The two fine steeds galloped neck and neck, wild and free, their hooves splashing up mud and grass.
Not far away, beneath a crabapple tree, Lin Shu stood quietly in a veiled hat, watching them play and chase from afar, cheering them on in a gentle voice.
Amid the whistling wind and neighing horses, Shen Qingyin turned her head and called out loudly to Lin Shu, who stood stiffly in place: "Lin Niang! Don't be so proper—why not race with us?"
At those words, Lin Shu's fingers clutched tightly at the brocade handkerchief in her sleeve. She lowered her head slightly and said timidly, "My mother says a young lady shouldn't show her face in public… Besides, I… I'd really be too embarrassed."
Shen Qingyin knew she had always been thin-skinned and shy, so she didn't press her further and galloped on with Luo Yu.
The girl's bright, carefree laughter still lingered in the air when, just as she was enjoying herself to the fullest, a soft voice suddenly called in her ear, gently pulling her back from the dream.
"Madam? Madam, wake up—we've arrived."
Zhuling gently shook Shen Qingyin, and her ladyship's lashes fluttered as she slowly awoke, the faint trace of a smile still lingering at the corners of her lips.
Nanny Qing, seated beside her, smiled warmly at the sight: "It must have been a wonderful dream you were having, Madam."
Shen Qingyin looked at Nanny Qing somewhat blankly. After a long moment, she raised a hand to press her brow, a fleeting wistfulness passing through her heart.
The carriage came to a steady stop at the main gate of the Pei residence, and Shen Qingyin was helped down and into the manor.
As the mistress and her servants passed through the winding corridors and gardens, they had just reached the central courtyard when they ran into Nan Feng hurrying along.
His steps were rushed, as if he were rushing off to deliver a report.
Shen Qingyin raised her voice and called out to him. Nan Feng stopped at the sound, quickly bowed with lowered head, then looked up with a smile: "Madam."
"Where is your master at the moment?" Shen Qingyin asked.
Nan Feng scratched his head and answered truthfully, "To answer Madam, the young master returned from court a short while ago. He should be in his study attending to official business just now. If Madam has business with him, shall this servant go in first and announce you?"
"No need." Shen Qingyin waved her hand, then ordered the household servants who had accompanied them to deliver the checked ledgers to Xueqing Pavilion at once, before turning and walking slowly toward the study herself.
She was surprised that Pei Yu hadn't gone to Changle Ward for amusement today.
Walking through quiet flower beds along the way, Shen Qingyin arrived at Pei Yu's study, only to find the nanmu door left ajar, a narrow gap remaining.
She raised her hand and knocked lightly on the door panel. Inside there was only silence; no one answered.
After a moment of hesitation, Shen Qingyin raised her hand anyway and slowly pushed the door open.
Pei Yu's study was tranquil and serene. At first glance the furnishings seemed simple and refined, but on closer look one could see that the desk, the curio shelves, and the armchairs were all crafted of golden-thread nanmu, and the rare ornaments displayed on the shelves, along with the brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, were all palace tribute items—every piece of considerable value.
On the wall behind the central armchair hung an image of Zhong Kui painted by Pei Yu's own hand.
Looking around, she found the entire study empty and immaculate, the windows bright and the furniture dust-free, yet Pei Yu was nowhere to be seen.
Shen Qingyin walked slowly into the room. Since their marriage, this was only her second time setting foot here.
Early in the marriage, not knowing any better, she had come to bring him some mung bean soup, but the moment she pushed open the door, he coldly shouted at her and drove her out.
Pei Yu seemed to dislike anyone entering his study—or perhaps he simply disliked her.
Having learned her lesson from that time, Shen Qingyin had stopped coming here.
But today, she truly had important matters to discuss with him.
She took a few steps forward, intending to find a seat and wait a while, but as she turned, the jade pendant at her waist accidentally knocked against a stack of memorials piled at the edge of the desk. The memorials crashed down and scattered across the floor.
Startled, she hurriedly bent down to gather the fallen pages. As her fingers flew over them, she saw an unadorned letter, tucked beneath the very bottom of the stack, lying quietly spread on the floor.
The woman's gaze happened to sweep over the envelope, and a few sparse characters suddenly struck her eyes—
"For Ying Niang, to be opened in person."
The handwriting was elegant and vigorous, so very beautiful—yet it made Shen Qingyin freeze, her fingertips suspended in midair.
Ying Niang. Yingluo. Luo Ying.
The name rushed up from the depths of her memory. Unable to spare a moment for shock, Shen Qingyin hurried to continue tidying up—but at that very moment, a deep, cold male voice suddenly sounded behind her.
"Shen-shi, what are you doing?"