Chapter 4

Qin Xiangyi’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly at the corners. As she walked along the long, seemingly endless palace path leading outward, her peripheral vision quietly settled on He Yanzhou’s figure. He was indeed a dependable man; his arrival had immediately resolved her predicament. The only pity was that she could not yet become his aunt, and whether the marriage alliance between him and the Qin family would come to fruition remained uncertain.

While subtly observing him, she remarked, “Among so many edible flowers, the hibiscus is by far the most beautiful.”

Legend held that washing one’s hair with hibiscus leaves on the Qixi Festival would earn the Weaver Girl’s blessing, helping unmarried women quickly find their destined partners.

At this thought, Qin Xiangyi’s mind drifted along the faint, fragrant strands of hair, and her gaze began to scrutinize him more deliberately.

He Yanzhou’s features were long and elegant, his eyes like polished jade—stern but without a trace of hostility. Or rather, he displayed no aggression in her presence; there was even a hint of shyness.

Sniffing the faint scent of smoke drifting behind them, He Yanzhou’s lips curved into a subtle smile. “There is a line in the Book of Songs: ‘A maiden rides with him, her face like the hibiscus flower.’ The hibiscus is used to describe a woman’s beauty, so of course it is lovely.”

In this context, “Shun” symbolized the hibiscus flower.

Seeing him thus, Qin Xiangyi said, “Lord He, it seems your spirits are high. With Yongning Hall suddenly ablaze and black smoke spreading, the rumors among the people are bound to intensify.”

Qin Xiangyi rarely spoke of politics, but this time she took the initiative to mention it. Qian Song lowered his eyes, understanding the lady’s intentions. She slowed her pace, putting some distance between herself and the two men.

He Yanzhou glanced at her but, out of respect, dared not look longer. “Aunt, with Yongning Hall on fire, I am but a humble servant unable to ease His Majesty’s worries. I am anxious beyond measure but dare not say I am in ‘good spirits.’”

Their words ended, and both lowered their gazes, faint smiles playing on their lips, each understanding the meaning behind the other’s words.

Though it was their first meeting, He Yanzhou suddenly felt a kinship rising in his heart.

The escalation of rumors pressured the emperor further, making many matters easier for him to handle. He often pondered how the heavens’ punishments only fell upon the common folk and wished the emperor might one day taste the sting of divine retribution himself.

This fire was a welcome relief.

Their smiles faded almost simultaneously as they lifted their heads, once more assuming solemn, impeccable composure.

Their footsteps matched perfectly, the swish of their garments tracing identical arcs—precise and decisive.

Her intuition was correct: He Yanzhou was indeed somewhat reserved and shy before such a distinguished elder female.

Before a woman of such extraordinary grace, flawless in every detail, he dared only a cursory glance. Her enchanting eyes held an innate aloofness, and the sacred crimson mole between her brows lent an aura of sanctity. The setting sun bathed her in a gentle, warm glow, resembling a luminous moon goddess.

He Yanzhou dared not presume or offend; thus, he restrained himself further, meticulously matching her stride and the sway of his robes.

Raised from childhood under the strictest aristocratic etiquette, He Yanzhou believed society was divided into ranks. People naturally belonged to different classes.

Yet in his dealings, he saw no rank superiority—only that some manners were superficial, while others came from the heart.

Undoubtedly, Qin Xiangyi belonged to the highest echelon in his eyes—perhaps even beyond it—requiring the utmost respect and ceremony.

—

Before long, they reached the palace gate. Qin Xiangyi did not usually use this entrance, and as she had predicted, imperial guards now heavily manned the gate, strictly controlling access.

He Yanzhou escorted her to the gate, exchanged a few words with the guard, and a path was opened for her.

She glanced back at him, standing silhouetted against the light within the gate. “The fire broke out suddenly. I must return to Yongning Hall to handle matters. Apologies, Aunt, you must return to the General’s residence alone.”

With such a major incident in the palace, he could not feign ignorance; he needed to be by the emperor’s side to provide protection.

He felt deeply apologetic for not attending to proper etiquette.

Just moments ago they had walked side by side, but now separated by a gate, the atmosphere shifted entirely.

The thick plume of black smoke rose into view, and the previously silent, deserted path seemed but a distant memory.

She said, “The situation is grave, Lord He, please hurry.”

He was eager to leave but kept his eyes fixed on her until she boarded the sedan chair, then reluctantly turned away. Not wanting to delay him, Qin Xiangyi, accompanied by Qian Song, promptly returned to her carriage.

This eldest grandson of the He family was impeccably proper. Qin Xiangyi almost felt sorry for her niece—such a fine gentleman, yet she would not marry him and instead became entangled with the second son of the Minister of Revenue’s household.

But this was no fault of Ling’er’s; who could have predicted the Qin family would have the chance to ally with the He family? Before Lord He’s arrival, the Minister of Revenue’s son was already the best catch Ling’er could hope for.

They had kept this affair secret; currently only Qin Xiangyi knew. Yet, by the time she discovered it, the two had already begun sharing their hearts.

Qin Xiangyi felt her niece’s tender affections had been entrusted too hastily. But ultimately, these were not her concerns. If she intervened and the marriage faltered, her sister-in-law would surely blame her.

So Qin Xiangyi resolved to keep silent and stay uninvolved.

Qian Song asked, “Miss, why did you make a point to speak with Lord He?”

Normally taciturn, Qin Xiangyi rarely engaged with others beyond necessity. Though others might not notice, Qian Song understood that any topic she chose to broach was deliberately picked to forge connections; there was no one she could not befriend if she wished.

In the midst of rising smoke, her remark, “Lord He seems in good spirits,” was enough to kindle a sense of camaraderie in He Yanzhou.

Qin Xiangyi replied, “Lord He helped me today, which is most fortunate. I was struggling and fearful in the palace. If I can borrow the brief breeze of this short-lived engagement with Ling’er and receive Lord He’s protection for a time, why not?”

Leaning on her auntly role, Qin Xiangyi decided to make full use of this advantage.

Even knowing the marriage between the two families might ultimately fail, it was no concern of hers. She trusted He Yanzhou would not blame her for playing the part of aunt in vain.

Back at the residence, Qin Xiangyi arrived just in time for the family dinner. She usually excused herself by claiming she had already eaten or was fasting, to avoid the awkwardness of sitting at the table with everyone. Her sister-in-law, however, held a grudge against her and was always critical.

She knew the complaints well: “The whole family depends on your brother’s salary,” or “The old general left little inheritance,” or “Since you returned to your natal home, your dowry should be returned to the family after the divorce.”

She understood the household’s difficulties—after their father’s passing, maintaining the large estate was no easy task. But her dowry wasn’t impossible to return; she simply asked, “Sister-in-law, if I return my dowry to the family, will you and my brother support me for life? When you have passed, please remember to instruct Sheng to continue caring for me.”

Qi, holding their youngest son, trembled with anger. “You expect our Sheng to look after you forever? What a fantasy. Keep your dowry for yourself, I think mother should hurry to find you a new husband and marry you off properly.”

Qin Xiangyi lowered her gaze. Her sister-in-law was sharp-tongued and calculating but not clever enough to coax her into handing over the dowry first. Otherwise, after their mother’s passing, her brother and sister-in-law might have driven her away, leaving her helpless. At least now she was not a burden; she paid a substantial monthly contribution for her upkeep, far beyond her personal expenses.

—

“Mother, brother, sister-in-law,” she greeted them one by one before calmly taking her seat at the table, making clear her intention to join the meal.

Grandmother Jiang naturally refrained from admonishing her own daughter, but Qi’s disdainful eye rolls began anew.

Qin Tianzhu added, “Didn’t that He family lad give you two double-sided rhombus mirrors? He said they were for Xiangyi. Remember to take them out later.”

Qi’s displeasure deepened, as if suggesting she was deliberately coveting her sister-in-law’s belongings.

“I know. I was always going to give them to her.”

The dishes were modest—each person had a bowl of plain congee, a few plates of greens, some pickles, and a platter of assorted braised meats.

Yet it was enough to fill everyone’s stomach.

Qin Xiangyi picked up a piece of soft, braised pig’s liver. Qi immediately said, “Sister, you’ve seen the family’s situation. I count every penny for our meals. This is all I can manage for dinner. Don’t disdain it for being humble.”

Qin Xiangyi paused, then gracefully ate the liver, her every movement refined and elegant.

Qi could not stand her demeanor. After all, Qin Xiangyi was a divorced woman, looked down upon by many, yet she insisted on maintaining an air of nobility—as if she were once the general’s daughter.

After finishing, Qin Xiangyi deftly flipped her finger, placing a silver ingot on the table. Her income from the Imperial Treasury barely exceeded her brother’s salary at the Hanlin Academy, and with bonuses from the concubines, she was not short of money—but she would not give more than this.

“Sister-in-law, I know your calculations are hard. The adults are fine, but these silver coins are for the nieces—they are growing and need nourishment. Use it to buy them something good. It’s the children’s welfare that matters most.”

The three nieces looked at the silver eagerly, though not truly lacking food. Qi generally did not mistreat her daughters, but at that age, girls always longed for trinkets—cosmetics, clothes, jewelry—and with money, those desires could be fulfilled.

Qin Xiangyi observed that the eldest niece did not look overly eager, suggesting the Minister of Revenue’s son was generous in this regard.

Understandably so, as the Ministry of Revenue was the largest source of wealth in the court. The minister’s sons were known for their lavish spending, especially on women easily won over by little gifts.

Seeing Qi’s stinginess, it was no wonder Ling’er succumbed to temptation. Qi likely had no idea Ling’er’s hairpin was the latest model from the Ninghui Pavilion—though not expensive, costing only a dozen or twenty taels of silver, it was equivalent to the Qin household’s entire monthly expenses.

With the three girls’ longing gazes upon her, Qi grudgingly accepted the silver. “As an aunt, you should show some affection to your nieces now and then.”

Qin Xiangyi smiled faintly. “Yes. They say the eldest brother is like a father, the eldest sister-in-law like a mother. They care for me, and I care for my nieces—it’s only right.”