Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The first light of dawn was just breaking.

It had drizzled all night, only ceasing near daybreak. Puddles dotted the bluestone courtyard, and a careless step would send up a tiny splash.

Zhe Liu, in an apricot top and emerald skirt, a silk ribbon cinching her slender waist, moved with the lightness of a willow branch. She deftly avoided every puddle as she walked, then casually called to a young maid wiping window frames nearby: "Remember to clear these puddles later. The young mistress will walk off her meal in the courtyard after breakfast."

"Yes."

Zhe Liu nodded approvingly and lifted the curtain to enter the inner chamber.

By the dressing table near the window sat a young woman in her early twenties, lazily filling in her brows in the mirror. She instructed Wen He, who was combing her hair behind her: "No need for anything elaborate today—I won’t be going out."

Her fair skin and delicate features, paired with the bloom of youth, lent her a natural charm even without makeup. Her lightly penciled brows only enhanced her allure, making her glow like a luminous pearl in the dimly lit room.

This was Ming Tang, the young mistress Zhe Liu had referred to.

Even accustomed to Ming Tang’s demeanor, Zhe Liu couldn’t suppress a flicker of resentment, silently cursing that blind fool of a husband. But her voice remained cheerful as she spoke: "After last night’s rain, the shepherd’s purse is especially tender today. I had them make shepherd’s purse dumplings—you’re in luck."

Ming Tang’s interest was immediately piqued. "Then just bring me two bowls of dumplings for breakfast, nothing else."

This was the only time of year to enjoy fresh shepherd’s purse.

Wen He rummaged through the jewelry box and picked out a honey-colored camellia hairpin the size of a wine cup, securing it in Ming Tang’s hair. She grinned. "Zhe Liu’s just run around for you, young mistress. Don’t send her off again. If you’re only after those cheap wild greens, why not leave the good meat and fish from your allotted portion to us?"

Ming Tang propped her chin on her hand, leaning against the dressing table, her tone unhurried. "That’s fine by me. But if you’re taking my share, what will you give me in return?"

Wen He, in her usual carefree manner, replied: "Everything I have is yours—even this person of mine. What else could I possibly offer?"

Then her tone shifted. "Since even I belong to you, I’d give my life to help you with anything. That’s the least I owe for growing up with you!"

Her gaze, unusually resolute, met Ming Tang’s.

The household was in turbulent times, and Wen He’s words carried an unspoken meaning. All three present understood, and the mood grew heavy.

Ming Tang sighed inwardly but put on a stern face, speaking gravely: "Don’t say such things."

Under their earnest gazes, she continued: "You two are my right and left hands. This is a time of peace—it’s not like I’m plotting rebellion. What could possibly require your lives? The matter at hand is trivial. If you keep acting like it’s life-or-death, you’ll turn into little old ladies before long."

After a brief silence, the atmosphere lightened. Ming Tang added: "We’ll take it step by step. No matter what, do you really think I’d let myself be wronged?"

Zhe Liu’s lips twitched imperceptibly. Remembering her mistress’s nature, she felt an odd sense of relief.

Wen He’s reaction was more overt. Hearing what sounded like reassurance, her worries vanished, and she beamed as she went to set the table.

How could she forget? Their young mistress never let herself suffer!

This damned Chen family was only just showing signs of rising—did they really think they could control her?

After polishing off two bowls of dumplings, broth and all, Ming Tang was thoroughly stuffed, despite the modest bowl size.

She changed into wooden clogs and headed straight to the courtyard to walk off the meal.

The courtyard wasn’t large—originally laid out with three main halls and two side wings, it now felt slightly cramped after two small additions.

But the bluestone paving and lush bamboo clusters in one corner kept it tidy and pleasant, far from oppressive.

Ming Tang strolled leisurely while the maids went about their tasks, a harmonious rhythm forming between them.

So when Shu Ma stepped into the courtyard, she instinctively softened her footsteps, moving with extra caution and deference.

Considering the young mistress’s background and methods, Shu Ma’s curtsy was more solemn than usual, her earlier secret amusement at the situation long forgotten.

"Greetings, young mistress."

"Please rise, Shu Ma." Ming Tang, ever impeccable in front of outsiders, was a model of propriety. "What brings you here so early? Does Mother need me for something?"

"Madam wishes for you to join her for conversation this morning."

"Conversation, hm?" Ming Tang drew out the words. Ever since her mother-in-law had found her "new favorite," she’d rarely bothered to summon Ming Tang for "conversation."

After so long, why the sudden recall? Whatever it was, Ming Tang had no curiosity—it would surely be unpleasant, best left unheard.

Shu Ma hovered, waiting for a response, but Ming Tang only said after a pause: "What a shame. I have matters to attend to this morning and won’t be able to join her."

As Shu Ma opened her mouth to protest, Ming Tang continued airily: "Did Mother enjoy the chicken soup I sent over this morning?"

Shu Ma’s mind flashed to the sight of her mistress reluctantly yet eagerly sipping the soup. "Madam liked it very much," she hedged.

"Did she? Then I’ll have more sent tonight." Ming Tang sounded delighted.

After some small talk, Shu Ma left in a daze, her original errand forgotten, her mind full of chicken soup as she headed back to the main house.

But Ming Tang hadn’t entirely lied—the small courtyard was indeed busy all morning.

She’d spotted a few pointed bamboo shoots peeking from the corner grove and spent an hour with the maids digging them up, adding a fresh dish to the noon meal.

After lunch, Ming Tang napped on the daybed as usual, her thoughts drifting in the haze between sleep and wakefulness.

She had married into the Chen family three years ago.

At the time, Chen Wenyao, the family’s only son, was just twenty—charming, refined, and newly honored as Tanhua (the third top candidate in the imperial examinations). Many in the capital had sought him as a son-in-law.

Yet this paragon was already betrothed—to Ming Tang, youngest daughter of his mentor, the Left Vice Minister of Rites.

A talented scholar from humble origins paired with a nobleman’s daughter was, by convention, an unlikely match.

Ming Tang still remembered that day: her parents seated at the head of the room, silent for a long moment before her mother finally spoke. "You Niang, we’ve found a match for you. Chen Wenyao of the Chen family—do you recall him?"

Her father had added: "He’s likely to place in the top three this spring. With his uncomplicated family, he’s an excellent match."

For official families, scholarly promise was paramount in marriage. As long as a man excelled in the exams, he was a worthy prospect—Ming Tang knew this well.

Chen Wenyao was no stranger to her.

The Ming family was influential, while the Chens had only him to rely on for advancement. If he aspired to higher office, he’d need the Mings’ support—and thus, he’d treat her with respect and affection.

Having died abruptly in her past life only to grow up again in this era, Ming Tang craved an easy life. She’d bet on this logic and agreed to the match.

And just as she’d expected, life had been leisurely.

The entire Chen household—masters and servants included—numbered barely over twenty.

Back at the Ming household, even her mother's courtyard alone had at least thirty servants.

Raised by the Ming family and with her knowledge from a past life, Ming Tang handled the Chen household affairs as easily as drinking water.

Chen Wenyao's widowed mother wasn't exactly hard to handle either—no matter how bad her temper, she restrained herself in Ming Tang’s presence. The occasional backhanded comments? Ming Tang simply ignored them.

After all, Chen Wenyao called the shots in this household, and Chen Wenyao, at least by her estimation, was a smart man.

Thus, her life was so comfortable that even her elder sister, married as the first wife of a prominent family, envied her.

But... half-asleep, Ming Tang’s brows furrowed slightly. These good days might soon come to an end...

*

Main Courtyard.

After lunch, Madam Chen, née You, remained fuming.

Despite the mild spring weather, she kept fluttering her folding fan nonstop, sending the loose strands of hair at her temples dancing.

"Tell me, have you ever seen such a daughter-in-law? Not only does she make excuses when asked to accompany her mother-in-law for a chat, but she even has the kitchen prepare extra dishes at noon just for herself! I bet she’d rather throw the leftovers away than save a bowl for her mother-in-law!"

Shu Ma, used to this routine, first dismissed the maidservants before pouring her mistress some fresh tea.

As for thoughts like, *"Last spring, the young mistress did send you bamboo shoots, but you spent days complaining to the young master—to his face and behind his back—that she was stingy, unwilling to share good food with her mother-in-law and only offering cheap leftovers,"* she kept them firmly to herself.

Madam Chen didn’t need much consoling anyway. Once she vented, her temper settled. Thinking of the person residing in the small courtyard just two streets away, her eyes brightened with delight, and her anger vanished entirely. "How is that girl today? What did the physician say?"

Knowing exactly what pleased her mistress, Shu Ma immediately beamed with exaggerated joy. "Miss Ya had a bowl of chicken congee and two side dishes this morning without vomiting. The physician said she’s in excellent health, and the child is thriving."

Still... recalling how the young mistress had the leisure to dig up bamboo shoots for lunch and how respectfully the young master behaved toward her, Shu Ma hesitated. "Shouldn’t we... seek the young mistress’s opinion on this matter? Just keeping her outside like this..."

Madam Chen’s brows shot up. "Ask *her* opinion? How dare I? With that arrogant attitude of hers, if we brought that girl into the household, she’d probably give the poor girl abortive medicine the moment Wenyao’s back is turned!"

"A barren hen who won’t even take the initiative to arrange a concubine for her husband. If she never bears a child, are we to let the Chen lineage die out? Should Wenyao have no descendants to honor him after his passing?"

As the widowed mother who raised Chen Wenyao, her devotion to him was understandable.

Moreover, she wasn’t without a plan.

Taking a sip of tea to soothe her dry throat, Madam Chen spoke with confidence. "Wenyao returns next month. By then, the child will be five months along—the pregnancy will be stable. No matter how powerful the Mings are, they can’t force us to abort a fully formed heir. I’ll just wait to hold my grandson."

"As for my dear daughter-in-law..." Madam Chen smirked. "A wife must submit to her husband. In the end, she can’t rely on her natal family forever. Once she entered the Chen household, whether she likes it or not, she’ll have to endure it."