Jiang Shijin’s heart skipped a beat; she silently cursed her luck.
If it weren’t for the fact that Big Sister was frail and rarely left the house, how could she have ever assumed her identity to begin this romance with the Heir?
Jiang Shijin had always known that in terms of family background, she was inferior to her elder sister—and the same was true regarding beauty.
Therefore, until she had firmly established her own position, she was determined never to let the Heir meet her elder sister. She feared he would feel regret, which would then turn into resentment toward her. Thus, she concealed her anxiety and feigned a curious glance outside, asking with confusion:
“The Heir must have seen incorrectly. Where is this person you speak of?”
The Heir of Prince Chun lifted the curtain to look closely. Aside from the hurried pedestrians on the road, there truly was no one. For a moment, his brow furrowed slightly, and he became uncertain himself.
He had seen almost all the daughters of noble families in the Western Capital, yet he had no memory of the one he had just glimpsed. Perhaps he really had seen wrong. His brow relaxed, and a smile played on his lips. Thinking of the two Zhao sisters who had practically thrown themselves into his arms today, he couldn’t help but feel a stir of desire.
Jiang Shijin watched her husband’s enamored expression with cold eyes; her heart felt more bitter than if she had swallowed gall.
She had taken the risk of impersonating her sister to meet the Heir precisely because she no longer wanted to live a dull and mediocre life.
In her previous life, under her uncle’s arrangement, she had married a timid scholar and borne several children of average talent. Although her maternal family helped, it was only in the form of money; in the end, her husband never climbed to a high position.
Any modicum of respect she received from others was entirely because her elder sister had married into Prince Chun’s estate. Her sister was the noble Consort of the Heir in a prestigious house, while she was so pathetic that even the gatekeepers mocked her when she visited her own relatives. She never wanted to live like that again. Having woken up back in the time before she was married, she was determined to live with glory in this life.
The wealth and splendor of Prince Chun’s estate were hers to enjoy.
A man as noble and handsome as the Heir was hers to marry.
Most importantly, she was fertile!
In her past life, she had given birth to three sons and two daughters. If she could manage to get pregnant before the side concubines even entered the household, she wouldn’t have to worry about her future.
Thinking of this, the rumors about “stealing her sister’s marriage” or being “bullied by her mother-in-law” seemed like trifles. Since she couldn’t rely on her husband’s singular devotion, she had to ensure her position as the Consort of the Heir was secure no matter what.
Slowly smoothing out the silk handkerchief in her hand, she pinched a corner to dab at the powder near the corners of her eyes. Suddenly, life didn’t seem so unbearable.
As May arrived, the weather in the Western Capital began to turn relentlessly hot.
Waves of heat rolled through the city without even a hint of a breeze. If it weren’t for the blocks of ice kept in the room, Jiang Shiyuan likely would have fallen ill again.
Whenever her heat-related symptoms flared up, she suffered from her old troubles: heart palpitations and coughing. Consequently, most of the objects she used were made of cooling jade.
Especially during the scorching summer, her bed was covered with ice-silk blankets, and she held a piece of cold jade in her hand. While most women feared “cold-body syndrome,” she had no such worries. She often didn’t even notice when her monthly cycle arrived; if it weren’t for her skirts being stained, she would likely still be greedily eating ice to stay cool.
When the maid Liuhua entered the room, she saw Jiang Shiyuan reclining on the heated brick bed by the window. She was propped up by an ice-silk pillow and wore a long camisole dress made of “moon-washed” gauze, embroidered with large, striking peonies.
“Miss, the cantaloupes have been delivered.”
“Mm, leave them there.”
Jiang Shiyuan had a “hot” constitution, so she couldn’t eat “heaty” fruits and vegetables as she pleased. However, her courtyard was always well-supplied with them because she couldn’t stand the smell of incense; she could only use the natural fragrance of fruits and vegetables to scent her room.
Liuhua placed the arranged plate of cantaloupe on a small red sandalwood table carved with floral patterns. She then tidied the novels on the desk and took a small white porcelain bottle from the cabinet. Shaking out a single red pill, she handed it over.
This was the Condensation Pill that Jiang Shiyuan had to take once every three days.
Using water brewed with phellodendron, she dissolved the pill. Seeing it melt quickly into the liquid, Jiang Shiyuan drank it in one go. The taste was slightly fishy, but she had been taking this medicine without fail for so many years that she no longer minded.
Liuhua handed her a handkerchief, and Jiang Shiyuan lightly wiped the corners of her mouth.
“Is Father back?”
“The page at the inner gate hasn’t shown his face yet, so most likely the Master hasn’t returned. Don’t worry, Miss; the family banquet at the Marquis’s estate isn’t until the afternoon. There are still two or three hours to go.”
Lady Xiang had mentioned before that the family would host a banquet to welcome Cousin Pei. Sure enough, a message had been sent yesterday.
Jiang Shiyuan wanted to go early to spend time with her grandmother, so she was feeling a bit restless.
As she was thinking, a maid lifted the curtain and entered. She had a round face and almond eyes, looking as cute as a little steamed bun. The maid, Lvluo, walked quickly to Jiang Shiyuan and said excitedly:
“Miss, the Master is here.”
She had already sent word to the page at the inner gate. Thus, as soon as her father returned home, he was led straight to her courtyard. Shiyuan stood up and put on her shoes, preparing to meet him at the door, only to see Jiang Huaishan striding in with a look of urgency on his face.
He was now over forty years old. Although he dealt with people in the official world daily, he didn’t have a hint of sycophancy. Instead, with age, he had gained the proud air of a scholar. He wore a stone-blue round-collar robe, the collar slightly damp with sweat from his hurried arrival.
Upon seeing Jiang Shiyuan, Jiang Huaishan’s brow furrowed into a deep frown. He walked up and immediately asked with concern:
“The gatekeeper said you had urgent business with me. What is it? Are you feeling unwell? Should I have someone take my card to invite an imperial physician to check on you?”
His anxious tone warmed Jiang Shiyuan’s heart.
Having been away from home for ten years, she had worried that her father might not be very close to her anymore. When she first returned, she had been strictly formal, speaking with such caution that it felt as if she were a guest in someone else’s house. But in an instant, looking at the streaks of white in his hair and the redness in his eyes, she understood that blood is thicker than water.
Paternal love, after all, would not be eroded by time; instead, the guilt and longing caused by distance only made it deeper. Jiang Shiyuan stepped forward to salute and said with a bright smile:
“I am fine. I had someone wait for you at the gate because I wanted to go to the Marquis’s estate for dinner today. I missed Grandmother, but I feared Father would worry if I went alone, so I said I would wait for you to return so we could go immediately.”
Jiang Huaishan looked his daughter up and down. Seeing that she was only a bit pale but otherwise seemed fine, the weight on his heart finally lifted. He then spoke with a mix of indulgence and helplessness:
“Fine. Wait for me to go back and change my clothes, then we shall set out.”
“Whatever Father says goes.”