Zhao Qingyun’s sudden appearance caught Yun Shuyue off guard, stirring in her—for the first time—uncertainty about the future.
So many things had already diverged from the original story: on the second day of marriage, Jiang Chengyuan had unexpectedly run into her bathing when he returned to Qinglan Courtyard for documents; during the return visit to her family, they had stayed an extra day; and now, unlike the original plot, Jiang Chengyuan had brought her along to Rong County for disaster relief.
When the inn servant delivered breakfast, both Jiang Chengyuan and Yun Shuyue had already washed and dressed. Zhao Qingyun was invited inside. Though her face showed clear reluctance, she still offered a formal greeting: “Qingyun greets Miss Yun.”
Yun Shuyue’s eyes flickered. She had called her Miss Yun instead of *sister‑in‑law*. Such a deliberate choice revealed her hidden intentions.
Yun Shuyue, however, pretended not to notice: “Cousin, no need for formality. You must not have eaten yet—come, join us.”
Zhao Qingyun had meant to provoke her, but seeing no reaction, she sat down sulkily. Picking up her chopsticks, she placed a piece of pastry into Jiang Chengyuan’s bowl: “Cousin, I made this myself before leaving home. It’s your favorite—red bean filling. Try it.”
Jiang Chengyuan replied evenly: “You should eat some too.”
Yun Shuyue caught the tender look in Zhao Qingyun’s eyes, then glanced at Jiang Chengyuan. His expression seemed unchanged, but he was skilled at concealing emotions—perhaps his heart was already wavering?
After finishing a bowl of porridge, Yun Shuyue decided to give them time alone. She picked up a boiled egg and excused herself, stepping out of the room.
Watching her cheerful figure disappear through the doorway, Jiang Chengyuan’s eyes flashed with a faint, almost imperceptible irritation. Now left alone with Zhao Qingyun, he felt a headache coming on.
Sure enough, as soon as Yun Shuyue left, Zhao Qingyun slid into her seat: “Cousin, I had wanted to attend your wedding, but I fell ill. You don’t blame me, do you?”
“It’s fine.”
Zhao Qingyun pressed on: “Cousin, I think your wife is cold and distant. You must not like her much, do you?”
Jiang Chengyuan: “She’s fine.”
“Cousin, you don’t know… When I heard you were to be married, I was heartbroken for a long time. You know I’ve always…”
Jiang Chengyuan glanced at the hand‑warmer on the table and rose: “Qingyun, I’ll have the post station staff escort you back to the city shortly. Right now, disaster relief is the top priority, and no outsiders are permitted inside.”
Zhao Qingyun hadn’t expected him to dismiss her so quickly. Panicked, she rushed forward and clutched his arm: “Cousin, I only heard you’d be passing through Sucheng. That’s why I rose before dawn to come here, just to see you. How can you bear to send me away like this?”
Outside the door, Yun Shuyue, returning for her hand‑warmer, froze at the words. She breathed into her palms to warm them, realizing this was hardly the right moment to appear. She turned to leave quietly.
But before she had taken two steps, Jiang Chengyuan’s voice called from behind: “Madam, you forgot your hand‑warmer.”
Her reappearance seemed, to Zhao Qingyun, full of calculation. Realizing Yun Shuyue must have overheard her earlier words, Zhao Qingyun flushed with anger and shame: “Miss Yun, you’re truly scheming. It rained yesterday—how could you not know the morning would be cold? Clearly, you’re just petty, unwilling to trust me with my cousin.”
Yun Shuyue laughed in disbelief. To the officials passing by, her smile looked gracious and tolerant, and they thought to themselves: *The Prime Minister’s wife truly understands propriety and knows how to weigh matters.*
But in truth, Yun Shuyue was angry. She hadn’t cared much for Zhao Qingyun’s arrogance before, but failing to restrain herself and going too far—that was unacceptable.
In her past life, whenever someone crossed her bottom line, Yun Shuyue had only one response: repay them in kind.
Though she hadn’t known Zhao Qingyun long, she saw little threat in her.
Yun Shuyue had never truly cared about being the Prime Minister’s wife, and Zhao Qingyun struck her as nothing more than a shallow troublemaker—loud but lacking substance.
Jiang Chengyuan’s voice turned cold: “Qingyun, mind your manners.”
Zhao Qingyun pouted: “But cousin, it’s true!”
Jiang Chengyuan brushed her hand away, walked to Yun Shuyue, and handed her the hand‑warmer.
Early morning, the coals inside had not yet been replaced. Yun Shuyue touched it briefly, then withdrew her hand. With brows like distant mountains and eyes like the moon, she smiled sweetly: “Husband, the coals haven’t been changed yet.”
Zhao Qingyun immediately seized the chance: “Miss Yun, my cousin is the Prime Minister! How could he do such trivial chores for you? As his wife, your conduct is improper. When I visit Aunt later, I’ll be sure to tell her you lack decorum.”
It was clear she had come spoiling for a fight, her face brimming with envy and resentment.
Yun Shuyue said nothing, only looked steadily at Jiang Chengyuan. His gaze, deep as a bottomless pool, lingered on her before he reclaimed the warmer, took her cold hand, and led her downstairs.
Behind them, Zhao Qingyun watched in disbelief as they left hand in hand. She hadn’t imagined her cousin would personally change the coals for Yun Shuyue. Anger and grievance welled up inside her.
Once they were farther away, Yun Shuyue stopped: “I must have embarrassed you just now. I was indeed discourteous—please forgive me.”
She withdrew her hand from his, took the warmer, and headed toward the kitchen. At the doorway, she turned back, her voice clear: “My lord, I have no interest in your past with your cousin. But if it affects my mood, that’s another matter. I’m selfish by nature, and I don’t endure things quietly.”
Normally, with someone like Zhao Qingyun—arrogant and disrespectful—Yun Shuyue would never let it slide. But here and now, she had to consider Jiang Chengyuan’s reputation, so she swallowed her anger.
With fresh coals, the warmer glowed hot, comforting in her hands.
Outside, the convoy was ready to depart. By the Prime Minister’s carriage stood Zhao Qingyun, tear‑stained and pitiful. The nearby officials quickly boarded their own carriages, unwilling to linger and witness the Prime Minister’s private drama.
Yun Shuyue tilted her head: “Husband, I won’t disturb you and your cousin’s conversation.” With that, she climbed into the carriage.
She knew perfectly well what Zhao Qingyun wanted—simply to stay close to Jiang Chengyuan, to follow him all the way to Rong County.
In the original story, Yun Shuyue hadn’t accompanied Jiang Chengyuan on this relief mission, so she didn’t know whether he had taken Zhao Qingyun along. But she didn’t care. After all, Zhao Qingyun was his “white moonlight”; bringing her along would hardly be surprising.
Zhao Qingyun pressed her case: “Cousin, my parents said the disaster in Rong County is severe. We’ve raised funds here in Sucheng. They want me to go with you, so I too can help the victims.”
Jiang Chengyuan’s tone was firm: “Qingyun, this journey is full of danger. The convoy is made up of officials and soldiers. Bringing a young woman would be inconvenient. The road to Rong County is treacherous—if anything happened to you, how could I explain to Aunt?”
Zhao Qingyun protested: “It won’t happen! With so many soldiers, nothing can go wrong.”
But Jiang Chengyuan’s patience had reached its limit. He shot a glance at Chen Ping, who quickly stepped forward, pulling Zhao Qingyun toward another carriage: “Miss, the road is perilous. You mustn’t take it lightly. Better to wait in Sucheng. Once my lord finishes his duties, he’ll return to the capital.”
Zhao Qingyun struggled: “If it’s so dangerous, why is cousin bringing *her*?”
Still, she couldn’t break free of Chen Ping’s grip and was forced into the carriage. By then, the relief convoy had already set off. Watching them depart, Zhao Qingyun burst into tears, crying loudly in frustration.