Before Hesheli’s maid even reached the study door, Lord Dong’e had already stepped out himself.
Moments ago, he had been inside drinking tea with Yintang, discussing court affairs. Yintang was highly skilled at handling such situations—his words were flawless, revealing nothing about the Eighth Prince’s faction while also not making his father-in-law feel slighted. Just as the conversation was flowing, a dull crack sounded from outside the window.
Lord Dong’e served in the Censorate; his hearing was sharp. The sound was off—it wasn’t chopping wood, nor was it something falling.
He set down his teacup and pushed the window open to take a look. The angle wasn’t good, and he couldn’t see clearly. Leaning out further, he vaguely noticed a few people gathered near the courtyard gate.
Yintang had heard it too. His reaction was completely different—his body stiffened first, then he quickly glanced toward the source of the sound.
That direction.
That sound.
He knew it too well.
Over the past two days, every crack, bang, and creak had come from Ning Nuannuan. Every noise was accompanied by the demise of something.
“Ninth Prince, there seems to be some commotion outside,” Lord Dong’e said, rising.
Yintang didn’t move from his chair. He lifted his teacup, took a sip, and swallowed hard.
“It’s probably just the servants working. Father-in-law needn’t concern himself.”
He didn’t want to go out.
Going out meant facing a scene—one he had already seen too many times, each time making him question reality.
Lord Dong’e ignored him and pushed the door open. After hesitating for two seconds, Yintang stood and followed. He had no choice—if Ning Nuannuan caused trouble outside, someone had to handle it.
Although, based on recent experience, she never needed anyone to handle things for her.
They passed through the moon gate, turned along the corridor, and as the view opened up, the scene at the courtyard entrance came into sight.
Lord Dong’e stopped in his tracks.
The stone lion on the left… had lost its head.
The entire lion head, along with half its neck, lay on the ground beside the base. The break was rough and uneven, revealing the inner grain of the stone.
This wasn’t chiseled. It wasn’t smashed.
The fracture was irregular, as if torn apart.
Ning Nuannuan stood beside the stone lion, dusting off stone powder from her hands. Ning Xin stood trembling, while Ning Wan sat on the ground. Several servants lingered at a distance, each wearing different expressions.
“What… happened here?” Lord Dong’e’s voice wavered.
Ning Xin snapped back to her senses and grabbed the steps, as if finding support upon seeing her father.
“Father! Second Sister—she… she snapped the stone lion’s head off!”
Lord Dong’e didn’t respond immediately. His gaze shifted from Ning Xin to the broken stone, then to Ning Nuannuan.
“Snapped?”
“Yes! With one hand! I saw it myself!” Ning Xin’s voice trembled like a leaf, pointing at the lion. “She walked over, pressed on its head, and then—just like that—snapped it!”
Ning Wan, still sitting on the ground, nodded frantically, her lips trembling too much to form words.
Lord Dong’e stared at the stone lion’s head.
These two lions had been placed there in his grandfather’s generation. Each carved from a single block of bluestone, they had stood guard at the courtyard entrance for at least fifty years. He had climbed on them as a child—he knew how solid they were.
Snapped off with one hand?
He turned to look at Yintang.
Yintang’s expression was… complicated. Not shock—he had already passed that stage. It was closer to the weary numbness of a long-term patient walking into a hospital.
“Ninth Prince, this—”
“Father-in-law,” Yintang said, his voice dry, “the Consort… has rather good physical strength.”
Rather good physical strength.
Tearing off a four- to five-hundred-pound stone lion’s head with bare hands—and that was called “rather good”?
Lord Dong’e’s mind spun several times before settling on one crucial point: this daughter of his… he had never paid much attention to her growing up. In his memory, she had always been managed by Hesheli, squeezed out by Concubine Su—a quiet, overlooked child.
When had she gained such strength?
“Nuannuan,” Lord Dong’e called.
Ning Nuannuan turned around.
“Father.”
“You… this stone lion…”
“I accidentally broke it. I’ll replace it with a new pair later.”
Accidentally?
Lord Dong’e swallowed. He had spent years in the Censorate, impeaching corrupt officials and confronting military men—he had seen all kinds of situations. But seeing his own daughter standing beside a headless stone lion, calmly saying she had “accidentally broken it”… this was new.
“You… when you were at home, were you also like this…?”
“Father rarely visited the inner courtyard before, so naturally you wouldn’t know.”
The words were neither harsh nor loud—but they struck deep.
Lord Dong’e’s expression shifted. What she said was true. As a father, he had not devoted much attention to his legitimate second daughter. His first wife had died early, his second wife Hesheli was not her birth mother, and Concubine Su was favored. Ning Nuannuan had never been treated well in that household.
“Father,” Ning Nuannuan’s voice pulled him back, “about what we didn’t finish discussing in the front hall—I’ll bring it up again.”
Lord Dong’e stiffened his face. “What matter?”
“The deed for the three hundred mu of paddy fields in my dowry—I’ll be taking it today.”
“This—”
“Concubine Su said the income from that land would be used as dowries for Third Sister and Fourth Sister.” Ning Nuannuan glanced at Ning Xin, who was still trembling on the steps. “But that was left to me by my mother. Do you think it’s appropriate to use my mother’s property to support concubine-born daughters?”
This was no longer a discussion—it was a declaration.
Lord Dong’e’s face flushed red. With his son-in-law, the Ninth Prince, standing nearby and servants watching, having this exposed made him lose face as the head of the household.
“Nuannuan! You’re already married, yet you come back and start demanding this and that from your father—”
Before he could finish, Ning Nuannuan bent down and reached out. The stone lion’s head, weighing dozens of pounds, was lifted effortlessly with one hand.
She carried it a few steps and placed it on the top stair. The dull thud of stone hitting the ground sent fine cracks spreading across the tiles below.
No one in the courtyard made a sound.
Ning Xin directly crouched behind the stone lion’s pedestal, only her eyes visible. Ning Wan was even more decisive—she turned and ran, losing one of her shoes in the process.
Lord Dong’e stared at the lion’s head that had just been casually lifted and set down. Sixty to seventy pounds—done with one hand.
He was a civil official, yes, but he knew the difference between light and heavy. Even the strongmen in the military might not be able to do such a thing.
His daughter had done it. And without even blushing or panting, as if she had merely moved a brick.
“Father,” Ning Nuannuan dusted off her hands and walked back in front of him, “let’s not make things ugly over the land deed. Give it to me, and later the Ninth Prince’s residence will send ten bolts of fine Hangzhou silk as dowries for Third Sister and Fourth Sister. That way, both face and benefit are preserved.”
Hearing “ten bolts of Hangzhou silk from the Ninth Prince’s residence,” Yin Jiu’s mouth twitched.
His silk.
Using his things to do favors.
But he didn’t dare object.
Lord Dong’e fell silent for quite a while.
At some point, Concubine Su had also come out, standing beneath the corridor, witnessing the scene in the courtyard. Her gaze moved back and forth between the stone lion head and Ning Nuannuan, the smile on her face fading little by little.
“The land deed… is in the cabinet in the study,” Lord Dong’e said in a muffled voice.
“Please trouble Father to have Steward Liu fetch it.”
Lord Dong’e gestured behind him. Steward Liu understood immediately and hurried off toward the study.
Concubine Su stood in the corridor for a moment, opening her mouth as if to say something. But when her eyes met Ning Nuannuan’s gaze, she closed it again.
That gaze was calm, without hostility, yet her legs inexplicably weakened.
She held onto a pillar and retreated.
Steward Liu was extremely efficient. In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, he returned with the land deed—three hundred mu of prime paddy fields. The official red seal was stamped on it, and at the bottom was the name of the original wife.
Ning Nuannuan took the deed, unfolded it, and glanced over it. No problems. She folded it again and tucked it into her sleeve.
“Father, thank you. We’ve disturbed you today—we’ll be leaving now.”
Lord Dong’e responded with a simple “Mm,” saying nothing more.
Yin Jiu had stood there the entire time without managing to speak a word. He gave a salute and followed Ning Nuannuan out. As they passed the headless stone lion, he glanced down at the fracture.
On the broken surface of the stone, five faint finger indentations could be seen.
Yin Jiu quickened his pace.
They boarded the sedan chair, the curtain lowered, and the carriage set off.
Riding alongside, Yin Jiu kept turning one thought over in his mind: ten bolts of Hangzhou silk.
With just a few words, she had given away his inventory.
But on second thought, three hundred mu of farmland would yield at least two to three hundred taels of silver a year. If those ten bolts of silk were procured through internal channels, they would cost at most forty to fifty taels.
Two to three hundred taels in exchange for forty to fifty.
This woman’s business sense was sharper than even the shop managers under him.
Inside the sedan, Ning Nuannuan leaned against the cushion with her eyes closed.
This return visit had clarified three things.
First, the Dong’e family was unreliable. The legal mother was distant, the biological father cold, and the concubine and half-sisters were watching like predators. The original host had been bullied at home, and after marriage had been treated as a source of money.
Second, the three hundred mu of farmland was now hers. This was her first “liquid asset” in this era.
Third, Ning Xin had intentions. That girl’s interest in Yin Jiu was not new. If this hidden danger wasn’t removed, it would explode sooner or later.
However, after today’s display in the courtyard, things should quiet down for a while.
Snapping off a stone lion’s head—any normal person who witnessed that would have nightmares for years.
By the time they returned to the Ninth Prince’s residence, it was already afternoon.
As Ning Nuannuan stepped down from the sedan, He Yuzhu came forward.
“Madam, Steward Zhang has delivered the first batch of recovered silver to the east wing—one thousand two hundred taels in total. He says the rest is still being gathered and asks Madam to grant a few more days.”
“Understood.”
Ning Nuannuan walked toward the main courtyard. When she reached the moon gate, she glanced back at Yin Jiu.
He was handing the reins to the stablehand. Sensing her gaze, he straightened instinctively.
“Little Ninth.”
“Don’t call me—” He stopped midway and corrected himself, “…what is it?”
“You did well today at my family home.”
Yin Jiu froze.
“You didn’t speak up for me, but you also didn’t undermine me. You handled that balance quite well.”
With that, she turned and left.
Yin Jiu stood there, his mind short-circuiting.
What was that? Praise?
She praised him?
Since she entered his life, this woman had either beaten him, scared him, or used his money to do favors. This was the first time she had said something pleasant.
He realized his mood felt just a tiny bit… not exactly happy, but less irritated.
He stood there thinking for a moment, then shook his head.
No, that wasn’t right. How could he be swayed by something like that?
He was the dignified Ninth Prince.
He straightened his collar and strode toward his own courtyard.
After a few steps, he stopped again.
About the Hangzhou silk… he’d better have He Yuzhu inform the Imperial Household Department. Ten bolts it is—after all, it’s wholesale price.