According to the customs of the Great Qing, a newly married bride would return to her natal home to pay respects three days after entering her husband’s household.
Ning Nuannuan felt no particular attachment to this so-called “natal home.” From the fragmented memories of the original owner, the Dong’e family’s emotional investment in her was about the same as a financial investment—raise her until adulthood, marry her into a prince’s residence, and recover the principal along with the added prestige of imperial relations.
A profitable deal.
As for whether this “commodity” lived well in the prince’s residence, that was not within the Dong’e family’s concern.
Early in the morning, Yinzhen was already pacing around the courtyard. He had changed into a dark blue casual robe, wore a warm hat, and had a piece of mutton-fat white jade tied at his waist. He looked much more put together than the ghostly state he had been in a couple of days ago—at least now he resembled a normal person.
“Madam, it’s time to depart.” He stood at the main room entrance, his tone noticeably more polite.
The past two days of interaction had taught him a rule for survival—don’t provoke Ning Nuannuan, and she wouldn’t act.
Simple. Effective.
Ning Nuannuan stepped out from the room. Today she wore a lotus-colored qipao. Her hair was styled by a skillful maid, adorned with two simple silver hairpins instead of the heavy kingfisher-feather ornaments.
Yinzhen gave her a once-over.
“You’re going like this? You’re the Ninth Prince’s primary wife. Dressing like this when returning home—people will laugh.”
“Who will laugh?”
“Your family—”
“Will they laugh at me for dressing simply, or for marrying poorly?”
Yinzhen was left speechless.
He mulled over the meaning of that sentence: marrying poorly meant marrying him. This woman insulted people without using a single curse word.
“Let’s go.” Ning Nuannuan stepped out of the courtyard first.
The carriage was waiting at the residence gate. Two sedan chairs and four mounted guards made for a modest but respectable entourage. Ning Nuannuan boarded the sedan chair, while Yinzhen rode alongside on horseback.
They left the alley of the Ninth Prince’s residence and turned onto West Chang’an Street.
Autumn in Beijing was dry and biting cold, with few pedestrians on the streets. The wind slipping through the gaps of the sedan curtain carried a dusty scent. Ning Nuannuan shrank her neck slightly—the body she now occupied was not resistant to the cold at all; even her nose had turned red.
After about half an hour, the sedan stopped in front of a three-courtyard residence.
Above the gate hung a plaque reading “Dong’e Residence,” its paint old and peeling at the edges. Two stone lions crouched at the entrance; one on the left had a chipped ear.
The house wasn’t large, incomparable to the Ninth Prince’s residence. But in the capital, for a civil official to live in a three-courtyard home was already quite decent.
The sedan curtain lifted, and Ning Nuannuan stepped out.
Yinzhen dismounted, straightened his collar, and put on the bearing of a prince. Regardless of his thoughts, appearances had to be maintained.
The gates of the Dong’e Residence were wide open. The steward stood at the entrance with a group of servants waiting to receive them. There were quite a few people, but the scene felt somewhat shabby. The servants’ clothes were neither new nor old, and their formation was disorganized, loosely arranged on both sides—clearly lacking discipline.
The steward, an elderly man with graying hair surnamed Liu, bent forward as he approached.
“Greetings, Ninth Master! Greetings, Madam! The Master and the Lady are waiting in the front hall, please—”
Before he could finish speaking, two figures rushed out from inside.
Two young women, dressed far more flamboyantly than Ning Nuannuan. The one in front wore a pomegranate-red jacket and skirt, with a full set of gold ornaments on her head that clinked as she walked. The one behind was shorter, round-faced, wearing a goose-yellow top, her eyes darting back and forth between Ning Nuannuan and Yinzhen.
“Second Sister has returned!” The one in red greeted her with a bright, sweet voice.
Ning Nuannuan searched through the original owner’s memories.
Dong’e Ningxin, ranked third, born of a concubine. Her mother was Su, a favored concubine of Lord Dong’e. Even at home, she had never been easy to deal with—sweet-tongued but sharp-hearted, most adept at stirring conflict between legitimate and illegitimate lines.
The round-faced one behind her was the fourth, Dong’e Ningwan, also born of a concubine and Ningxin’s full younger sister. She followed her sister’s lead, the type to flock wherever there was excitement.
“Third Sister. Fourth Sister.” Ning Nuannuan greeted them, her expression unchanged.
Ningxin’s gaze swept over Ning Nuannuan from head to toe.
The scrutiny in her eyes was unmistakable.
“Second Sister’s outfit is far too plain,” Ningxin said with a smile, though her words carried a sting. “Doesn’t the Ninth Prince’s residence have fine things? How could you return home without even a proper set of ornaments?”
Ningwan chimed in from the side, “Exactly, Second Sister. As a married daughter of this family, you should at least bring some face to Father.”
Yinzhen’s brows furrowed slightly at their words.
The items granted by the Imperial Household Department were far from shabby. What Ning Nuannuan chose to wear was her own decision—it wasn’t for two illegitimate girls to criticize.
Besides—he glanced at Ning Nuannuan’s hands—these two probably had no idea that their sister’s strength could snap zitan wood.
“Let’s go. No need to stand around at the entrance.” Ning Nuannuan couldn’t be bothered with such low-level provocation and walked straight inside.
Ningxin was left standing there, her smile stiffening for a moment. She shot Ningwan a look, and the two hurried after her.
The front hall was arranged in a proper, conventional manner. An Eight Immortals table stood in the center, with dried fruits and tea snacks placed on it. Lord Dong’e sat in the main seat, with the primary wife, Lady Hesheli, beside him.
Lord Dong’e was over fifty, thin in build, with a graying beard. He served in the Censorate as a Supervisory Censor of the fifth rank, relying on his writings and seniority—his position wasn’t high, but his airs were not small.
Lady Hesheli was in her early forties, dignified in appearance, sitting upright—clearly a proper matron from a well-disciplined household.
On the other side sat a woman in her thirties, wearing a light purple satin jacket and skirt, her features soft and charming, a faint smile at her lips.
Concubine Su—mother of Ningxin and Ningwan.
The moment Ning Nuannuan entered, she took in the entire lineup clearly.
The primary wife sat on the left, her expression neutral, with little warmth in her gaze. Concubine Su sat on the right, smiling brightly—but her seat was placed half a foot ahead of the primary wife’s, a subtle overstep.
When the original owner had lived here, though she was born legitimate, her biological mother had passed away early. Lady Hesheli was a second wife with no blood relation to her, offering only minimal courtesy. Meanwhile, Concubine Su, relying on favor, had openly exerted control over the original owner in the inner household.
“Greetings, Father. Greetings, Madam.” Ning Nuannuan performed a proper salute.
Neither humble nor overbearing. Flawless.
Yin Jiu also cupped his hands in greeting. Though he looked down on the Dong’e family’s status, he still had to give his father-in-law face.
“Sit,” Lord Dong’e cleared his throat, his gaze lingering on Ning Nuannuan’s face.
The room fell silent for a few breaths.
Lord Dong’e spoke first. “You’ve been married for two days—have you adjusted well? The rules in the Ninth Prince’s residence are strict. You were always rather carefree at home; you must be more careful now that you’re in a prince’s household.”
Carefree.
When the original host was bullied by Concubine Su and ostracized by her illegitimate sisters, where was this father? And now he had the nerve to say “carefree.”
Ning Nuannuan didn’t respond to that. “Thank you for your concern, Father. Everything is well.”
Lady Hesheli held her teacup and spoke, “Ninth Prince, you’ve worked hard. Nuannuan is straightforward by nature—if there’s anything she’s lacking, please be patient with her.”
Yin Jiu was about to offer some polite words like “The consort is virtuous, everything is fine,” but as he opened his mouth, his mind filled with nightmares from the past two days—
The sound of the zitan bed shattering.
The weightless sensation of being thrown over the shoulder onto a couch.
Wanyan’s cries echoing from the rooftop.
The image of the bronze paperweight deforming in her palm.
He shuddered, swallowing back the word “virtuous.”
“…It’s fine,” he said stiffly.
His expression was extremely unnatural.
Lady Hesheli noticed, her brow twitching slightly, but she said nothing.
Concubine Su smiled and interjected, “The Ninth Prince looks a bit tired. Could it be that Nuannuan doesn’t know how to serve her husband? Our second daughter has always been a bit rough around the edges—not as considerate as other young ladies.”
The words were cleverly phrased.
On the surface, they sounded like concern, but underneath, they were throwing dirt at Ning Nuannuan—you don’t know how to serve your husband, so the Ninth Prince looks unwell.
Yin Jiu’s mouth twitched.
He looked unwell because he hadn’t slept properly for three days straight. It had nothing to do with “serving.” If anything, he wished Ning Nuannuan would stay as far away from him as possible.
Ning Xin, seated below, covered her mouth with a handkerchief and laughed. Ning Wan was even more direct, letting out a snicker.
Ning Nuannuan picked up her teacup and took a sip.
“Concubine Su seems to worry about quite a lot,” she said, setting the cup down. “Father and Madam are sitting right here, yet you’ve already started worrying on the prince’s behalf?”
Her words were soft but laced with barbs.
Though favored, Concubine Su was still only a concubine by status. With neither the master nor the mistress speaking, her stepping forward to lecture the legitimate daughter was already overstepping.
Ning Nuannuan didn’t scold her—she simply laid out the rules.
Concubine Su’s smile faded slightly but quickly returned. “I’ve spoken out of turn. Second Miss, please don’t take offense.”
Ning Xin couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Second Sister, Aunt Su means well. You’ve married into a prince’s household—our whole family benefits. Can’t she even say a few words of concern?”
Ning Nuannuan glanced at her.
“The whole family benefits?”
“Of course!” Ning Xin said confidently. “You married the Ninth Prince. From now on, the Dong’e family is practically imperial relatives. Father even speaks more boldly in court.”
Ning Nuannuan said nothing.
She rolled her eyes inwardly.
The original host’s marriage into the Ninth Prince’s residence wasn’t something the Dong’e family sought—it was an imperial decree from the Kangxi Emperor. The purpose of the match was to use her as a pawn to counterbalance the Eighth Prince’s faction. From beginning to end, the Dong’e family were merely tools—what was there to be proud of?
“Don’t talk about benefiting,” Ning Nuannuan said, looking at Lord Dong’e. “Father, I have something to discuss with you on this visit.”
Lord Dong’e set down his teacup. “What is it?”
“In my dowry list, there’s income from an estate. The three hundred mu of paddy fields you prepared for me—I want the land deeds transferred into my name.”
As soon as she said this, both Lady Hesheli and Concubine Su changed expressions.
There were indeed three hundred mu of farmland listed in the original host’s dowry, but the deeds had always remained in the Dong’e family’s hands, and the annual income was collected by them. In truth, the land listed in the dowry was just a number on paper.
“This…” Lord Dong’e’s expression darkened slightly.
Concubine Su spoke softly beside him, “The income from those three hundred mu is meant to be used this year as dowries for Xin’er and Wan’er.”
Ning Nuannuan heard it.
She turned to look at Concubine Su, her gaze calm.
“My dowry land… used as someone else’s dowry?”
Concubine Su shrank back slightly under her gaze. This look was completely different from before. The former Ning Nuannuan would redden her eyes after a few sharp words, but now—there was something in those eyes she couldn’t read, something that made her spine turn cold.
Lord Dong’e coughed. “We’ll discuss this matter later. Today is a good day for your return—let’s not spoil it with such topics.”
Ning Nuannuan didn’t press further.
She lifted her teacup and took another sip.
No rush. If she couldn’t get the land deeds today, she would get them tomorrow. This visit wasn’t just for formality—she intended to understand the Dong’e family thoroughly.
On the surface, the atmosphere in the main hall returned to calm.
But everyone knew—
The second daughter sitting there was no longer the same person she had been before her marriage.