The next day.
Before dawn had broken, Jiang Zhiyu made her way alone to Minghui Tang, carrying a solitary lantern.
A maid was already waiting for Jiang Zhiyu and led her to a side room of the small prayer hall.
“Old Madame has not yet awakened. Please wait here, Young Mistress. If you have time, you may also copy some Buddhist scriptures,” the maid said softly.
“Thank you.”
The maid smiled in response and withdrew without another word.
Only a single oil lamp illuminated the side room, barely enough to light the area around the long table.
On the table were scripture paper and three Buddhist texts:
The Diamond Sutra, the Heart Sutra, and the Śūraṅgama Sūtra.
After a moment’s thought, Jiang Zhiyu selected the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, prepared the ink, and began copying.
Though born into a family of officials and nobles, during her time at Qianling Shan, she had often helped her senior brothers and sisters transcribe medical prescriptions. Her master detested foolishness above all, believing that poor handwriting equated to stupidity. Thus, while her calligraphy lacked the refined elegance of a master, it was still considered quite respectable.
Moreover, though she did not believe in Buddhism, copying sutras helped calm her mind, allowing the surreal feeling of rebirth to gradually settle into reality.
Unnoticed, daylight had fully broken.
Jiang Zhiyu paid no attention to the time until the door to the side room was pushed open, prompting her to look up.
Standing outside was an elderly woman with hair streaked with gray yet meticulously combed. Her eyes were clear and bright, and she wore a black jacket embroidered with golden swastika patterns. She held sandalwood prayer beads in her hand, and her posture was upright and dignified.
Jiang Zhiyu set down her brush, stepped away from the table, and curtsied. “Grandmother, may you be at peace.”
Old Madame did not bid Jiang Zhiyu to rise. Instead, she walked to the table and observed the still-wet ink on the scripture. “Your handwriting is good.”
“It is merely passable,” Jiang Zhiyu replied modestly.
Old Madame circled around the long table and took a seat in the black lacquered armchair behind it. “Your patience is also quite commendable. Were you pretending before?”
“I would not dare,” Jiang Zhiyu immediately turned and knelt. “Your granddaughter-in-law would never dare deceive you, Grandmother. In recent days, I indeed struggled to accept the circumstances. But in all matters of this world, only one or two things go as we wish. Resisting is like an ant trying to shake a tree—it only leads to self-destruction.”
Old Madame did not respond, merely watching Jiang Zhiyu, though it was unclear what she was looking for.
As if completely unaware, Jiang Zhiyu continued, “Since I have married into the Marquis’s household, my fate is now intertwined with it. A woman’s life seeks nothing more than stability. Only if the Marquis’s household is stable can I find stability.”
“So, you do not admit your wrongdoing?”
“Your granddaughter-in-law admits her fault. I should not have used you, Grandmother. But if given the chance again, I would still do the same,” Jiang Zhiyu answered frankly.
“For the sake of the Marquis’s household?”
“And for my own selfish reasons,” Jiang Zhiyu lifted her head and met Old Madame’s gaze. “Marchioness clings to hope and harbors greed. Without your pressure, she would never have agreed so easily, leaving a hidden danger for the Marquis’s household. I, too, would be like a severed limb. Since I am to live with the eldest branch, I must plan for myself.”
“You dare speak of your mother-in-law in such a manner?”
“Marchioness is not my mother-in-law, but my second aunt,” Jiang Zhiyu replied smoothly, as if this had always been the relationship.
“Once something is given away, it is not so easy to take back,” Old Madame said meaningfully.
“Having troubled you, Grandmother, I will handle this matter properly,” Jiang Zhiyu lowered her head once more.
Old Madame pondered for a moment before speaking earnestly, “Very well. Since you have decided to live with the eldest branch, live well.”
“Yes, your granddaughter-in-law will remember your teachings.”
Old Madame waved her hand, signaling for Jiang Zhiyu to withdraw.
This time, it was Nanny Huang who escorted Jiang Zhiyu out of the courtyard gate, then returned with a cup of Ginseng Tea and handed it to Old Madame.
“This eldest young mistress has finally come to her senses. Though she was confused in the past few days, now she seems to carry a bit of the demeanor you had in your youth, Old Madame,” Nanny Huang said with a smile.
“In my youth, I didn’t have such striking looks as hers.” Old Madame took a sip of the Ginseng Tea, glanced at the copied Buddhist scriptures on the table, and after a pause, added, “Have someone keep an eye on her.”
After leaving Minghui Ge, Jiang Zhiyu did not rush back to Ruanyan Ge. Instead, she walked along the western corridor through the back garden.
Before she could step off the corridor, a figure emerged from the shadows.
“A-Yu.”
The voice was so familiar it made her sick to her stomach.
Jiang Zhiyu took a quiet breath and lifted her head expressionlessly. “Second Brother.”
The joy on Gu Jin’s face instantly faded, replaced by a wounded look in his moist eyes.
He was handsome, with a pair of sentimental eyes that made him appear grievously wronged whenever he grew despondent.
In her past life, Jiang Zhiyu had been deceived by those eyes too many times. But now, all she remembered was the ruthlessness beneath his facade.
One day, she would gouge out those eyes, crush them, and feed them to the dogs!
“A-Yu, why are you calling me that?”
As he spoke, Gu Jin reached out to take Jiang Zhiyu’s hand. She took a step back to avoid him and asked, “Then how should I address you?”
“Naturally…” Gu Jin faltered, his eyes reddening with guilt. “A-Yu, I’ve wronged you. But during my year on the battlefield, I gave my all, dreaming every day of earning military merit and returning home to see you. Yet when Princess Royal was appointed to oversee the army, she only had to say I was at fault, and I was stripped of my armor and thrown into prison.”
“I… my death would be of little consequence, but one person’s crime implicates the whole family. I couldn’t bear to have the entire marquis’ household suffer with me, and I would never wish for you and the general’s household to be dragged down because of me.”
“A-Yu, Princess Royal holds immense power. I had no other choice.”
With that, two tears fell. Gu Jin looked utterly defeated and powerless, a stark contrast to his radiant appearance the day before.
In her past life, Jiang Zhiyu had listened to such words, believed them, and felt immense pity for him.
Now, she realized his acting skills were merely passable.
His tears, his urgency—they weren’t born of love for her, but for the medical prescriptions in her mind and his own future.
It had been the same in her past life. On the surface, he severed ties with her after replacing her as his wife, but behind the scenes, he coaxed her into believing it was all unavoidable, only temporary. As long as she stood by him and helped him leverage his status as Imperial Consort to break into officialdom, he would set everything right once he gained power.
Thus, she remained trapped in the marquis’ household, stripped of all her connections, slowly used up like a frog boiled in warm water.
It wasn’t until her dying moments that she understood: there was no unavoidable circumstance, no lack of choice. It was simply that Gu Jin couldn’t bear to give up Princess Royal’s power, nor could he relinquish the prescriptions that could propel his career.
He wanted it all.
“A-Yu, don’t worry. Everything is only temporary. You don’t have to suffer in the main household. Stay by my side. Once this storm passes, I’ll find a way to make things right. Believe me.”
Jiang Zhiyu shook her head firmly. “There’s no need to wait. I think things are fine as they are now.”
Her calmness unsettled Gu Jin, as if something was beginning to slip beyond his control.
“A-Yu, you’re still angry with me, aren’t you?”
Jiang Zhiyu did not answer.
Before Gu Jin could press further, hurried footsteps approached.
“Young Master, Princess Royal has sent someone to summon you.”
Gu Jin hesitated for a moment and said to Jiang Zhiyu, “I’ll be right back, A-Yu. Wait for me.”
Without waiting for Jiang Zhiyu’s reply, Gu Jin hurried away.
Wait for him?
Pah!
Jiang Zhiyu spat inwardly as she walked around the spot where Gu Jin had just been standing.
Just hearing his nonsense made her feel tainted all over.
If it weren’t necessary, she really wouldn’t have taken this detour just to suffer this disgust.
She’d have to wash herself thoroughly with pomelo leaves when she got back.