Chapter 7

Chapter 7

That night, in the Moon-Store Pavilion.

Though the Ruan estate was vast, not every master’s concubine was granted a private courtyard. Only Wei Shi enjoyed such a privilege, residing there with her daughters.

Wei Shi had already bathed and changed, her hair unbound as she sat by the bed, lost in quiet contemplation.

Approaching thirty-five, she was no longer in the bloom of youth, yet her innate beauty still radiated. Even in her modest attire, the simple indigo-blue garments and unadorned silver ornaments were enough to highlight her grace.

Tonight, however, Wei Shi appeared somewhat dejected, her thoughts incessantly returning to the day’s events in the Madam’s chambers.

She had taught Little Sixteenth well.

She had told Little Sixteenth countless times: she was a young lady, with her own father and mother. Her mother was a woman she had never met, so she could not call Wei Shi "Mother," even though Wei Shi had indeed given birth to her.

She had corrected this many times, until Little Sixteenth no longer used the term in front of others. Only at night, nestled in her arms before sleep, would she whisper it once or twice. Just that.

Was even that not allowed? Wei Shi recalled the afternoon in the Madam’s room, where the Madam had playfully offered the child a pellet drum, but Miss Sixteenth had repeatedly hidden behind Wei Shi, then suddenly blurted out, "Mother, I’m scared."

Miss Sixteenth rarely showed fear. She was always outgoing, lively, and well-mannered. Wei Shi searched her conscience—she had truly taught her with great care. She had done nothing wrong, and neither had Little Sixteenth.

Yet her cheek still burned, the pain lingering. Wei Shi glanced in the mirror—one side of her face remained swollen, as if she had something in her mouth. Earlier, she had to meet with the household managers, so she had covered the red handprint with powder. Now, after washing her face, it was visible again.

Wei Shi never imagined she would be struck. After the Madam had Miss Sixteenth taken away, she had knelt. She was flustered but spoke clearly, explaining how she usually instructed Miss Sixteenth and that the child was still young, perhaps unfamiliar with the Madam. But the Madam seemed uninterested in listening—she simply walked over and slapped her.

Several of the Madam’s maids stood rigidly by, watching as she was struck and then loudly reprimanded.

Now, recalling the scene in the Madam’s room, Wei Shi felt an odd sense of unreality. It was a peculiar, indescribable sensation. Her mind was a jumble, and suddenly, a vision of the Second Young Master as a child surfaced.

Back then, he must have been five or six, just old enough to understand. Raised in the Madam’s quarters, he had barely seen Wei Shi since birth. But one day in the garden, when no one was around, he had suddenly run over, tugged at the hem of her robe, and whispered, "Mother, when I grow up, I’ll protect you."

Ruan Heng had then darted away.

Even now, Wei Shi found that memory unsettling. And indeed, when he was ten, he had kept his word and protected her. But…

Lost in these thoughts, Wei Shi gazed vacantly at the candlelight.

After some time, a soft voice announced, "The Master has arrived."

Wei Shi hurriedly stood, instinctively wanting to cover her face. But Ruan Zhengye had already strode into the chamber, leaving her no time. She could only quickly bow in greeting, then turn slightly to keep the injured side of her face hidden from the candlelight.

Yet Ruan Zhengye walked directly to her, reaching out to adjust her chin. "Let me see."

Wei Shi lowered her eyes, allowing him to inspect the injury. The candlelight illuminated the swollen cheek, which flushed even redder with shame.

Fortunately, Ruan Zhengye soon released her. Wei Shi dared not make a fuss by covering herself with a fan or handkerchief, so she simply kept her head bowed, turning her face to the shadows as she called for tea.

"Would the Master like some evening refreshments?" she asked routinely, hoping to steer clear of the morning’s incident.

"No need," Ruan Zhengye replied. "I was informed of the Madam striking you."

Wei Shi listened silently as he continued, "She didn’t mean to trouble you. You had previously offered to have Miss Sixteenth raised in her quarters, but I forgot to tell her, leading to this misunderstanding. Ultimately, the fault lies with me."

It seemed Ruan Zhengye was here to mediate. Wei Shi dared not accept such a gesture from the Master and quickly replied, "It’s not the Master’s fault. Since my arrival, the Madam has never struck or scolded me—this is already a great kindness. Today, I angered her. I dare not complain."

"Good," Ruan Zhengye said, his expression noticeably softening. "I’ve asked her to send you some healing plasters."

"There’s no need to trouble the Madam. I have medicine, and it’s not serious," Wei Shi protested hurriedly.

Ruan Zhengye nodded, seemingly pleased with her attitude. Then, unexpectedly, he shifted the topic.

"Heng’er is a good child. You bore him—that’s your blessing," he observed while sipping his tea.

The words struck Wei Shi like a bolt from the blue, stirring old memories. She immediately knelt.

"If the Second Young Master offended the Madam because of this, it’s all my fault. He’s still young. Please, Master, for the sake of—"

Ruan Zhengye chuckled, pulling her up by the arm. "Why this anxiety?"

"He’s nearly eighteen. Is he still young?" he added. "Besides, I haven’t said anything about him yet."

Wei Shi, still shaken, could only stand aside as Ruan Zhengye continued, "Today, he mentioned that Qingming Festival is approaching, and he wishes to visit his uncle’s grave again this year."

"What?" Wei Shi was stunned.

Ruan Heng had brought it up during dinner with Ruan Zhengye and the Madam.

Ruan Zhengye’s younger brother, Ruan Zhengxing, had died young without heirs. For years, Ruan Zhengye had sent Ruan Heng to make offerings at his gravesite.

The Ruan family’s ancestral tombs were in their hometown of Yangzhou, but Ruan Zhengxing was buried in the outskirts of Jinling—a minor taboo in the family. The Ruans were a noble lineage, and while there were inevitably a few wayward descendants, few were as disgraceful as Ruan Zhengxing.

From childhood, Ruan Zhengxing had been idle and dissolute. In his teens, he became obsessed with opera and acrobatics, eventually running off with an opera troupe. A young master of a noble house, mingling with actors, performing on stage, and even frequenting brothels—he contracted some illness and died before turning thirty.

The old Master Ruan, furious, disowned him and forbade his burial in the family plot. He was interred on the outskirts of Hangzhou, on the family’s estate.

This matter had little to do with the main branch, but with the old Master long gone and Ruan Zhengxing being Ruan Zhengye’s own brother—childless and unremembered—someone had to tend his grave. The clan elders had suggested several times that the main branch adopt a son for the second branch. Though Ruan Zhengye had refused, every Qingming, he sent Ruan Heng to offer incense at his uncle’s tomb.

Originally, such an inauspicious task wouldn’t fall to Ruan Heng. Everyone knew he was the family’s only illegitimate son. Assigning him to this duty hinted at the possibility of him being adopted into the second branch. Whether out of genuine virtue or for reputation, the Madam would never openly marginalize him. But after Ruan Heng’s plea for Wei Shi, her stance had changed entirely.

Now, however, the situation was vastly different. Though no one spoke of it openly, since Ruan Cheng and Ruan Heng had come of age, most in the household quietly acknowledged the family’s title and wealth would eventually go to Ruan Heng. As the heir, he might even become the next duke. Naturally, there was no reason for him to continue tending his uncle’s grave. This year’s Qingming arrangements couldn’t be the same as before.

Yet Ruan Heng had brought it up casually, making his stance clear: he would rather forfeit his claim to the title, even if it meant being adopted by Ruan Zhengxing.

The Madam’s sensitivity over Miss Sixteenth stemmed from these very concerns. In her eyes, if the family’s future didn’t belong to the Eldest Young Master, it had to be the Third Young Master’s.

To spare Wei Shi from the Madam’s wrath, Ruan Heng was willing to give up his inheritance.

As Ruan Zhengye finished speaking, Wei Shi went deathly pale, reeling and at a loss. "Master, the Second Young Master is still young. He doesn’t understand—"

"Don’t worry," Ruan Zhengye reassured her. "I won’t let Heng’er visit Zhengxing’s grave again. Before returning this spring, I discussed with the clan—we’ll select a worthy nephew to be recorded under Zhengxing’s name. Then, on an auspicious day, we’ll move his remains back to the ancestral tomb."

Wei Shi relaxed slightly and nodded. "The Master’s decision is most proper. No matter what, the Young Master is still the son of the Master and Madam..."

Ruan Zhengye nodded in agreement. "You’ve always been dutiful—that’s good. From now on, I think Miss Sixteenth should be raised in the Madam’s quarters."

Wei Shi’s eyes widened. "What?" the word escaped her lips. "But—"

Ruan Zhengye had explicitly said—that very night—that Little Sixteenth could stay with her.

On his first night back, Ruan Zhengye had come to the Moon-Store Pavilion. Wei Yuerong had been prepared to send the child to the Madam’s quarters once she returned, but Ruan Zhengye had told her to raise Little Sixteenth herself.

Wei Yuerong wasn’t incapable of accepting her child being taken away. This wasn’t the first time, and a child raised by the Madam would have a more prestigious future. Even if unwilling, she would consent for the child’s sake. But this sudden reversal left her deeply shaken.

"Don’t send her tomorrow," Ruan Zhengye cut in, his tone indifferent. "Let her spend more time in the main courtyard first, then gradually move her there. After being with you for so long, a sudden change would be hard. She can return to stay with you occasionally."

Wei Shi felt as if a deluge of icy water had been poured over her. Her entire body trembled—this hurt more than a hundred slaps. She wanted to protest, but then she thought of Ruan Heng...

Tears rolled down her cheeks, but all she said was, "Yes, I understand."

Ruan Zhengye seemed satisfied that he had set the household in order. Convinced he had done the only right thing, he showed no concern for Wei Shi’s distress and soon stood to leave.

Behind him, the candlelit room was soon filled with muffled, suppressed sobs.