Xing Zhao, upon seeing this, teased Shang Zhiping with the mischievous air of a scoundrel eyeing a well-bred girl.
“Hey, sweetheart, are you acting like this because you know I’ve brought your favorite walnut shortbread?”
At the mention of “walnut shortbread” (a traditional northern-style pastry, crisp and buttery, often served at festivals or given as gifts), Shang Zhiping’s smile widened.
Few in the world truly noticed him, and even fewer remembered his likes and dislikes. So, even a small box of shortbread filled him with extraordinary happiness.
“Thank you, Uncle Zhao! I won’t waste a single one—I’ll eat them all.”
Seeing this, Xing Zhao’s expression softened, and he ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately.
“Don’t worry. I’ll bring more later for you to keep. Eat them whenever you wish.”
“Okay!”
Shang Ji watched his nephew, feeling both touched and sorrowful. This child had endured so much neglect, yet even a modest box of pastries could bring him such delight.
“Where’s my aunt? Why hasn’t she come?” Shang Ji asked.
Xing Zhao smiled wryly. “My cousin, this is the front hall (traditionally the main receiving area for male guests and formal gatherings). It would be odd for my mother to appear here. But… I heard you rushes home from the barracks every few days—or sometimes even more often. What’s the matter?”
Though his tone was teasing, his eyes held a trace of seriousness. As he was well aware of the undercurrents in the Shang Guogong Mansion and suspected that, since Shang Ji’s return, the women of the household had been in some disarray, requiring his frequent presence.
Shang Ji did not answer. He could not admit that he simply longed for his wife’s warmth and had no desire to remain a bachelor in the barracks. He only shook his head in silence.
Sensing his mood, Xing Zhao refrained from further questioning. His mother had already gone to the flower hall (the mansion’s ladies’ gathering space, often adorned with elaborate floral displays and silk screens). To pry would only have exposed too much. Setting his thoughts aside, he turned his attention to introducing his younger brothers to Shang Ji.
Being a river transport envoy (a prestigious post overseeing trade and logistics along waterways) made Xing Zhao well-known and admired among the young masters of Sui’an City. His lively, playful personality endeared him further, attracting the company of generous, uninhibited young nobles.
With him present, Shang Ji and Shang Zhiping no longer seemed dull. Their laughter and playful antics brought joy to the hall, drawing sideways glances from onlookers.
Wei Taiwei observed with a flicker of disdain. Yet the Xing family was not one to provoke, and he did not wish to offend them. With Xing Zhao at their side, Shang Ji and his nephew were no longer alone.
Meanwhile, In the flower hall, several courtyards away, was brimming with guests. Madam Wei, skilled in the long-sleeve dance (a classical performance where flowing sleeves accentuate graceful movement), and Silang’s wife, of noble birth, complemented each other perfectly. The courtyard was thus filled with the wealthiest families of Sui’an City.
In contrast, the eldest sister-in-law, Liu, felt uneasy. She had not appeared publicly for ten years. Former acquaintances had drifted away, leaving polite but fleeting interactions before hastily departing. Truly, the old saying held: “When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter.”
The women of the East Garden seemed somewhat out of place amidst this sea of flowers. They hesitated to join the dominant social circle, aware that the virtue of condescension spread swiftly among such gatherings.
Even Du Jingyi, though the general’s wife, remained obscure in the eyes of outsiders. Besides, she was already the fourth of Liu Lang’s wives, following the prior three. Whether she would survive to the next banquet remained uncertain, making few eager to form bonds with her.
Her background—a mere merchant’s daughter—further reduced her social appeal. Du Jingyi, however, did not mind. Noticing her sister-in-law Liu’s discomfort, she spoke with tact.
“Sister-in-law, please teach me how to recognize these ladies, so I won’t be confused when we meet them later.”
Liu recognized the gesture of kindness and put aside her annoyance, patiently pointing out each guest.
Du Jingyi, intelligent and well-prepared, had already read the accompanying social booklet and memorized most names. Matching faces to names proved easy.
Soon, their attention fell on the beautiful woman seated beside Madam Wei.
“She’s Wei Jialian,” Liu shi explained.
As her name suggested, Wei Jialian was indeed strikingly pretty. Her robe, embroidered with lotus motifs (a symbol of purity and nobility in traditional Chinese culture), was made from exquisite silk, clearly worth hundreds of taels of silver.
Her hairpins were inlaid with precious gems, matching the value of her garments. The Wei family, not an ancient aristocratic clan, evidently spared no expense on appearances.
Du Jingyi smiled knowingly, like a leopard spotting its prey. Wei Jialian, coquettish and graceful, sat like the moon among stars, while Xueniang appeared slightly melancholic.
Though of similar age and approaching marriage, the grandeur of life favored the strong. Xueniang, eldest daughter of a duke, lacked maternal affection and perhaps a present father, which diminished the radiance of her presence in comparison. She looked at Wei Jialian with a mixture of envy and subdued resentment.
Du Jingyi conversed with her eldest sister-in-law while remaining attentive to Xueniang’s feelings. Seeing Wei Jialian interact effortlessly, Du Jingyi reassured her gently.
“I remember the general mentioning that your coming-of-age ceremony will be at the end of February next year. Don’t worry. With Sixth Brother and Sixth Sister-in-law here, you will be treated fairly.”
Xueniang nodded, comforted. Her brother had spoken of this before, and she had also heard how Sixth Sister-in-law had managed the Fifth branch with ease. The latter’s easygoing nature, unlike Ping’er’s stubbornness, made Xueniang feel at ease.
“Don’t worry, Sixth Sister-in-law. I’m not prone to melancholy. Though a little discomforting, I can handle it myself,” she said.
“That’s good,” Du Jingyi whispered.
Their conversation paused as a woman approached them , roughly the same age as Madam Wei. His garments and jewelry, however, surpassed all others in elegance. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that every item was of the most fashionable Jiangnan material and style—a visible sign of immense wealth and status.