Song Da was used to his wife’s sharp temper and hurried to explain. “My cousin has given his word: whatever dowry our family prepares, he shall match it in full. We lose nothing and we uphold our sister’s honor.”
Song Da’s wife frowned suspiciously. “What sort of custom is that? Always the dowry follows the betrothal gifts never the reverse! Done this way, it looks as though we seek to take advantage of the Marquis Manor!”
Song Da shook his head. “That matters not to me. My sister shall not be shamed. She is the only sister I have. She shall not suffer and our parents wish it so.”
His wife swallowed her resentment. In fairness, the Song family was wealthy and powerful, bound by kinship to the Marquis Manor; their fortunes had flourished under that protection. Her parents‑in‑Law were kind, and relations among the sisters‑in‑Law were otherwise peaceful. As the eldest brother’s wife, she stood to inherit the largest share in due time her future was secure.
What she could not bear was the blind, foolish spoiling of Song Qingqing. Born late in her parents’ lives, the youngest daughter had been declared precious from the moment of her birth. Five brothers bowed to her every wish; if she asked for the moon, none dared give her a star. Even now, after all these years, none of the wives stood as high in their husbands’ eyes as this pampered little sister. She had endured it longest of all and now, on the very eve of her marriage, Qingqing still found ways to gall her.
“Enough!” Song Da snapped. “This is a joyous occasion why wear such a face? Do you not love Qingqing too? Or has silver unveiled your true nature?”
Love her? She dared not offend her! Qingqing was the idol of this household who would dare cross her?
“Qingqing weds the Heir of Yong Ning, a noble concubine by imperial decree,” Song Da reasoned. “Our family’s future rests upon her. With such a promising sister‑in‑Law, what heights may our own children not reach? Fail her now and you shall regret it deeply.”
There was truth enough in his words. She had endured years already; a few days more would not break her. “You are right,” she said at last. “Speak not of this to Qingqing. I spoke in haste.”
At the Marquis Manor, the stewards sat huddled in the courtyard, pale and sweating, wiping beads of cold perspiration from their foreheads. Every moment stretched like an hour.
“Lady Lian Hong… does the Heir’s Wife summon us for some grave matter?” one ventured at last.
Lian Hong glanced at him askance. “She summons you because she has need of you. Wait patiently.”
“She honors you with seats and tea out of concern for your labors. Why fidget so? Do you repay her kindness with unease?”
“N‑no, not at all!” the steward stammered, terrified. “Madam Heir is gracious beyond measure we are unworthy of such favor!”
“She is doubtless detained by the weight of affairs,” he added hastily. “Such diligence… such devotion… we merely wondered… that is all…”
Lian Hong smiled inwardly. Smooth words indeed.
“Thank you for waiting.”
Zhou Du entered the courtyard attended by servants, followed by a dozen porters carrying sealed wooden chests.
“Be seated, all of you. Pray do not stand on ceremony.” She smiled gently, serene and noble as a bodhisattva yet not a single steward dared relax.
This was a woman who exposed family shame openly. The men sent to the courts faced ruin: their estates confiscated, their kin exiled to servitude for a thousand li. A fate worse than being sold outright. Word had reached them even before the summons and they had been left to shiver in the courtyard’s chill for half an hour, hearts turned to ice.
Zhou Du observed them perched precariously on the edges of their stools, scarcely daring to sit fully. They had been thoroughly frightened.
“Madam… your tea.” Lian Qing poured.
Zhou Du lifted the cup, skimming the leaves with deliberate, unhurried grace. The soft, rhythmic clink of porcelain rang through the silence sharp, clear, and ominous.
Thud.
A steward slumped forward and fell to the ground, face turning blue.
Zhou Du set down her cup in genuine surprise. “Why what has happened? Fetch a physician at once! If one is unwell, why not say so? I am not a harsh mistress.”
The unconscious man was carried away. Zhou Du surveyed the remaining faces. “Does anyone else feel unwell? If not let us speak of business.”
“We are all in perfect health!” came the hurried reply. “That man… he was weak‑minded and unworthy. We beg Madam’s pardon for the disturbance.” To claim illness now was to admit guilt. They were not fools.
Zhou Du smiled. “Nonsense. All who eat fall ill sometimes. It is no shame.”
“Y‑yes… Madam.” Heads nodded in unison.
“Yet some among you,” Zhou Du said, her tone turning sharp and cold, “have grown remarkably strong. You deceive your superiors. You take bribes. You line your pockets so handsomely that even I, your mistress, am struck with envy at your wealth!”
The courtyard fell dead silent. Men who had been fidgeting fell still as stones, throats gripped tight.
“You are well informed,” Zhou Du said evenly. “You know where those who were summoned last time have gone.”
Silence.
Lian Hong stepped forward, brows drawn in fury. “When Madam speaks you answer! Have you all lost your tongues? Or shall we cut them out!”
Zhou Du bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud.
“We know! We know!” voices cried out. “Madam is wise! Corruption rooted out with perfect justice!”
“Truly the daughter of the House of Zhou of Qinghe justice, grace, and authority!”
“We pledge our lives! Our service! We shall go wherever Madam points never daring to turn aside!”
One voice broke the silence and then all scrambled to flatter and fawn, each striving to outdo the other, terrified of being singled out next.
Zhou Du watched them amused, yet sad. It was plain enough: few here were entirely innocent. But water too clear holds no fish. She would keep those who remained, watch them, and judge them in time.
She gave Lian Qing a signal. Lian Qing stepped forward, raising a hand for silence.
“Quiet, all of you. Madam has instructions.”