The trace of displeasure was swiftly smoothed over by Du Jingyi, her expression calm and unruffled.
With a polite smile, Shang Ji spoke first.
“It is better to show care when handling gifts bestowed by the Son of Heaven.”
At these words, the two elders immediately brightened, nodding eagerly.
For the moment, they set aside all unpleasantness and placed themselves firmly on Du Jingyi’s side. After all, the emperor had rewarded the General with ten thousand taels of gold—if just a little of that wealth trickled their way, it would be enough to feed their families for days.
The Third Old Master’s attitude shifted at once, his tone unusually courteous.
Sūn Xífu (My dear granddaughter-in-law), you must allow us to see it later. Ten thousand taels of gold! I imagine it would take more than ten men to carry the chest.”
His greedy expression was almost laughable in Du Jingyi’s eyes.
Moments ago, in Yunjin Courtyard, these same people had been disparaging her and her husband; now, with faces thick as city walls, they behaved as though nothing had happened before .
Feigning ignorance, she teased deliberately, her smile unfaltering.
“More than ten men? Certainly not enough. It would take at least a hundred. Only then could the Heavenly Family’s grace truly be displayed, don’t you think?”
At this, not only the Third Old Master, but all the uncles, aunts, nephews, and nieces alike were sent into a frenzy of speculation.
Their two branches had no true livelihood of their own. For years, they had relied entirely on the Duke’s Mansion, scraping by on the household’s allowance and skimming off tributes from outsiders.
Ten thousand taels of gold!
The mere thought of it set their hearts racing, and all eyes gleamed with greedy anticipation.
Madam Wei and her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren stood off to the side with forced smiles. Unlike the Third and Fifth branches, she had schemes deeper than mere coin, and thus did not look quite so eager.
Her grandchildren, however, betrayed their feelings easily.
Though no more than eight or nine years old, they already carried themselves with a sly air. Whenever they looked at others, despite being small in stature, their gaze brimmed with scorn. It was a most distasteful sight.
Madam Gu’s children and grandchildren loathed them.
Madam Wei might pretend to be warm and gracious, but those children—emboldened by someone’s whispers—already acted as though their own father the step brother of ShangJi were the rightful heir to the Duke’s Mansion.
As a result, they showed little respect toward their Sixth Uncle, who had spent three years at war, and looked down even more upon the uncles, aunts, and grandparents now standing by their Sixth Aunt from the extended branch.
If not for the solemnity of the occasion, the sharp-tongued children would likely have spoken out.
Especially Shang Zhiyin, who had just turned nine. She had always taken pride in being a legitimate daughter of nobility and held only contempt for those who debased themselves for silver.
Beside her, her elder Aunt Liu remained quiet.
Widowed for ten years, with no strong family to back her, Madam Liu had learned to tread carefully. If she wished to raise her son within the inner courtyard without a proper support, she had no choice but to endure and live modestly.
Fortunately, before her death, Madam Gu had entrusted most of her dowry to Madam Liu, sparing her household from destitution.
She herself could endure hardship, but she feared for her son and unmarried sister-in-law. Thus, whenever family disputes arose, she chose silence, keeping herself and her children apart from the fray.
Not long after, Shang Ji returned, having seen off the guests.
The Third Old Lady bustled forward at once, craning her neck eagerly, her wrinkled face lit with forced laughter.
“Sixth Brother, why hasn’t anyone brought the chest in ?”
Everyone present understood what she meant.
But her scheming was quickly dashed.
Shang Ji cast her a cold glance before speaking with deliberate provocation.
“The storeroom at Xitang Courtyard is far too small. It cannot even contain Madam Du’s dowry, let alone the emperor’s gifts. I have already ordered Luo Yuan to send everything to the General’s Mansion. The storerooms there are larger. Even if I should win more victories and be granted further rewards, there will be space enough.”
His words struck like a slap.
Ten thousand taels of gold—most of those present had never so much as seen such a fortune, and now it was to pass entirely beyond their grasp. Their teeth ground in frustration.
“You!”
The Fifth Old Master, round as a barrel, burst forward from behind, nearly knocking the Third Old Lady over. He bellowed in outrage.
“What do you mean by this? You would really move away? What of us, left behind in the Duke’s Mansion? You don’t care whether we live or die?”
That scoundrelly expression was the same one he had worn for decades.
Shang Ji, tall and broad-shouldered, stood over him like a temple Arhat, looking down from a great height. The sight alone made hearts tremble.
“What a farce,” he said coldly. “My father is still the master of the Duke’s Mansion, alive and well. How could it fall to me to support you in your old age or to see you to your graves?”
At the words “see you to your graves,” the elders of the Third and Fifth branches flushed with shame.
They dared not challenge Shang Ji head-on, so instead they turned to Shang Yukuan, the soft-hearted one.
He immediately crumpled to the ground, pounding the floor in feigned despair.
“Brother, open your eyes and see! Without you, your two younger brothers will be bullied to death! Goudan, will you stand by and watch?”
The name “Goudan” did not surprise Du Jingyi, but it made Shang Yukuan’s face redden.
That had been his rustic nickname in their village days. After following his father to the capital, he had paid a teacher to rename him Yukuan—a name more fitting for a noble household. Yet the late Duke Shang had often teased him with the old name, and thus the elders of the Third and Fifth branches had adopted it as a weapon.
Whenever they wished to throw a tantrum, they would call out “Goudan, Goudan!” forcing him to recall their shared past and guilting him into concessions.
Du Jingyi watched quietly, unruffled as the scene unfold .
These people were forever staging dramas of death and despair.
In the three years she had been married, she had often heard amusing tales of Beiyuan, but witnessing such a spectacle firsthand was something else entirely.
Sure enough, the Fifth Old Master soon broke into sobs and curses.
“We lived through the years of famine, of corpses on every roadside! We endured until this age, and thought at last we might enjoy peace. Who could have guessed? Look at your unfilial son—he would drive us into the grave!”
The man wailed endlessly.
The Third Old Master, not to be outdone, clutched his chest and gasped, as though ready to breathe his last breath.
“He’s cursing us to death!” he cried, staggering as though collapse were imminent.
As if on cue, the Third and Fifth Madams joined in, their hair disheveled, beating their chests and wailing in grief.