Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Chen Wenyao hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction from the woman before him. Caught off guard, he instinctively drew her into his arms to soothe her. "Confucius spoke not of spirits and strange powers. These are merely folk customs, passed down by word of mouth. I’ve never heard of anyone truly suffering because of them. I didn’t mean to frighten you."

Ya Yun leaned into his embrace, murmuring softly, "I only wish for the child’s safety."

The atmosphere instantly softened, yet Chen Wenyao had already caught another crucial detail in Ya Yun’s words. "You mentioned earlier that Mother gave you a canopy—why have I never heard of this?"

Ya Yun gently pulled away from his embrace, slipped on her shoes, and carefully took Chen Wenyao’s hand. Seeing no objection from him, she felt a slight ease and led him to her bed.

"It’s this one," she said, tenderly caressing the embroidery with evident fondness. "I heard it was originally given to the young mistress by the madam. Since the young mistress didn’t take it with her, the madam gifted it to me."

She looked up at Chen Wenyao with admiration. "The madam raised such an accomplished gentleman as yourself; she must be truly blessed. Since receiving it, I’ve treasured it dearly, hoping our child might partake of the madam’s and your good fortune, perhaps even becoming a Tanhua Scholar one day."

As Chen Wenyao watched her, the image of Ming Tang seemed to materialize before his eyes. They had been married for only a year then. His mother, concerned by Ming Tang’s lack of conception, had summoned her one day and ceremoniously presented her with this very canopy.

Ming Tang had not refused. In front of Shu Ma, she had ordered the old canopy replaced with this one—only to take it down and store it in the deepest part of a chest the very next day.

When Chen Wenyao’s mother eventually learned of this, she was naturally displeased. Chen Wenyao had even tried to mediate between them. Ultimately, Ming Tang had established new rules for their eastern courtyard, ensuring that nothing happening within its walls reached Chen Wenyao’s mother unless Ming Tang herself chose to reveal it.

Two years had passed, and Chen Wenyao had all but forgotten about the canopy—until now, seeing it resurface.

Ya Yun’s words were tactful. If Ming Tang had merely left it behind, how would it have ended up in the main house? Most likely, she had deliberately sent it back—another silent expression of her disdain for the item.

Seeing Ya Yun cherish something another had discarded, Chen Wenyao felt a surge of pity. She was a woman of humble origins, and the Chen family was not an aristocratic household obsessed with primogeniture. A second son, if he studied well, could still forge his own path.

If he lacked scholarly talent, he could always manage household affairs and assist his younger brothers—there were still options available.

Moreover, rumors were already circulating that he had forced his wife to divorce for the sake of an heir. If news now spread that his concubine had miscarried, the gossip would only become more malicious.

With this in mind, Chen Wenyao gently tucked a stray wisp of hair behind Ya Yun’s ear and reassured her, "Don’t worry. Once the child is born, we’ll speak to Mother about moving you to the eastern courtyard’s side rooms. Staying with her isn’t convenient."

Relocate once the child arrives! Ya Yun’s heart settled. It seemed her master had abandoned the idea of disposing of her child to make way for a new wife.

As for whether Chen Wenyao’s marriage prospects with the Bai family would succeed, Ya Yun cared not a whit. She had already disclosed the matter to the Ming family. If they chose to interfere, all the better.

If the Ming family chose not to get involved, Ya Yun would not regret it. After all, there would always be a new young mistress eventually—her only goal was to ensure her child’s safety.

Silently, she offered hundreds of prayers, even thanking the former young mistress, whether intentionally or not, for sending her this canopy. Ya Yun’s smile grew even sweeter.

Yet as Chen Wenyao spoke, he was momentarily lost in thought—the eastern courtyard hadn’t been touched since Ming Tang left.

The Ming family was a prominent clan, and when they prepared their daughter’s dowry, they followed all the grand traditions. Every piece of furniture in the eastern courtyard had been part of Ming Tang’s bridal dowry.

The day the Ming family sent dozens of people to retrieve her belongings, Chen Wenyao had avoided them. When he later inspected the courtyard, it was stripped bare—only a few unwanted items remained scattered on the floor, looking forlornly discarded.

Since then, Chen Wenyao had taken residence in the front courtyard’s study. His mother had no intention of refurbishing the eastern courtyard, and without his orders, the servants wouldn’t dare take initiative. The thought of that empty space weighed heavily on his mind.

The next day, as soon as he returned from his duties, Chen Wenyao sent for Shu Ma and instructed, "The eastern courtyard is quite unsightly after the young mistress took her things. Over the next few days, find someone to make new furniture. The wood doesn’t matter, just make the place presentable."

Shu Ma nodded. "I’ll need a written note from you, young master." Without it, how could she withdraw funds from the accounts?

She certainly wasn’t about to spend her own money on family matters.

Chen Wenyao agreed, wrote a note authorizing Shu Ma to withdraw funds for the furniture, stamped it with his personal seal, and then turned to the day’s correspondence.

Craftsmen in the capital were plentiful, and materials were readily available. The Chen family’s request wasn’t complicated, and with little rain, the varnish dried quickly. In just ten days, the carpenters delivered and assembled the furniture Shu Ma had ordered.

The pieces, made of an unspecified wood and uniformly coated in black lacquer, looked neat and possessed an inexplicable elegance. After inspecting the quality, Shu Ma took the note to the accounts office to withdraw the silver.

But while the funds were released without issue, she returned with troubling news.

After seeing off the carpenters, Shu Ma hurried to the main house with a worried expression. "Madam, Steward Liu just informed me that the household funds are running low. He asked me to remind you to cut expenses."

Chen Wenyao’s mother, who had once sold family property to move to the capital a decade ago, was not ignorant of finances. She immediately sensed something amiss. "Wenyao has his salary, and the accounts still hold a decent sum. We hardly spend extravagantly—what is there to cut?"

Back when Chen Wenyao was still studying, she had managed on less than two taels a month—including servants’ wages.

Now that her son was an official with a monthly salary of twelve taels, plus occasional bonuses and property income, why would she need to tighten the purse strings?

Shu Ma sighed inwardly but pressed on. "Madam, have you forgotten? After the young mistress married in, the household added over ten servants—their wages alone are a significant expense. Then there’s daily food, supplies, seasonal clothing—all things the young mistress used to cover. And... we used to get discounts at the young mistress’s shops, saving quite a bit yearly. Now that’s gone. With the young master’s salary and household income fixed, the funds naturally deplete faster."

"Enough!" Chen Wenyao’s mother flushed with anger, her face alternating between pale and red. Even facing her most trusted confidante, Shu Ma, she felt a sting of humiliation.

How could she not notice the difference between her current life and the past? She had simply chosen to "forget." If she constantly reminded herself that her comforts had come from her daughter-in-law, how could she have justified blaming her for failing to conceive?

Strangely, when she tried to recall her life before Ming Tang’s marriage to her son, the memories felt hazy—as if those years hadn’t been real, just a dream upon waking, leaving only an impression of hardship.

If the day Ming Tang’s dowry was reclaimed had felt like having her heart gouged out, the thought of returning to that frugal existence now was akin to being slowly flayed alive—each day another slice of flesh taken.

Yet there was no one left to blame for her predicament—only Shu Ma, waiting for instructions to relay to the accounts office.

A throbbing pain pulsed at Chen Wenyao’s mother’s temples. "There are two maids in the eastern courtyard—call a broker and sell them. The kitchen doesn’t need three cooks either—dismiss two, and transfer one from the main house to assist. Also..."

The more she spoke, the smoother her thoughts flowed, and her headache gradually eased. An odd sense of pride even welled up within her.

Was managing a household truly as difficult as her former daughter-in-law had made it seem? She was the mistress—her word was law. Assign people where they belonged, pay their wages, and everything would run smoothly.

Hadn’t she raised her son to adulthood before that daughter-in-law arrived? And he’d even placed as Tanhua, a scholar blessed by the stars!

If only her son hadn’t agreed to that marriage. Operas often sang of emperors bestowing princesses upon young top scholars. Her son wasn’t the top candidate, but as the more handsome Tanhua, couldn’t he have married a nobleman’s daughter at least?

Lost in regret over the imagined noble daughter-in-law she’d missed, she noticed Shu Ma still standing there. "Why are you still here?"

Shu Ma gaped, disbelief rising within her. Was this truly the same woman who had once meticulously calculated every expense for a decade after their long journey to the capital? How had her reasoning become so simplistic?

But her fate was tied to Chen Wenyao’s mother. With no further orders, Shu Ma could only swallow her bitterness and set about executing commands that would undoubtedly alienate many.

With the Dragon Boat Festival approaching, memories of last year surfaced—the house scrubbed clean, the scent of mugwort everywhere, the kitchen bustling with zongzi-making. The cooks had crafted zongzi that were both beautiful and sturdy, ensuring everyone received a string by the festival.

This year, however, zongzi were off the table, jobs were at risk, and even the water carriers had lost their chance to boast about the Chen family’s prosperity to vendors. A listless air hung over the household.

Because of this, the once-admired "star scholar" young master privately earned growing resentment. Some older servants even whispered that he’d been "haunted," secretly acquiring talismans in hopes he’d soon reconcile with the young mistress.

None of them had ever heard of this "separation" business—maybe it wasn’t even valid?

If the young mistress returned, their good days would return too.