In the past, it had always been Du Jingyi who arranged everything for Yingtao, but today, the situation was reversed.
After taking a thorough bath, Du Jingyi sat down just as the breakfast box arrived. When she lifted the lid, a wave of delicate fragrance drifted out — wontons, their thin wrappers glistening with steam. The sight alone stirred her appetite.
“Danruo is truly amazing!” Du Jingyi said, her eyes bright with delight. “I was just dreaming about wontons a few days ago, and today they’re right here on my table. She must be a worm in my stomach — knowing exactly what I’m craving!”
Yingtao smiled and exchanged a brief glance with Shang Ji, who stood quietly nearby in his dark military robe [(a typical court uniform for generals, symbolizing both power and restraint)]. Then she explained softly, “It was the General’s idea. He said the Young Lady loved wontons and might be wanting them again. Food from outside might not be safe, so he asked Danruo to prepare them herself. She even went to Liu Ji’s place three times to learn the recipe properly. Young Lady, please try them and see if they taste the same?”
Hearing this, Du Jingyi’s curiosity was instantly piqued. She picked up her chopsticks and took a small bite. The savory broth burst with familiar flavor — rich, clean, comforting. As expected, Danruo’s skills never disappointed her. In fact, this time, it felt as though the disciple had even surpassed her master.
Du Jingyi’s satisfaction was plain to see. Beaming, she immediately pushed a bowl toward Shang Ji. “General, please try this. To me, it tastes even better than Liu Ji’s.”
Her eyes shimmered with excitement, and Shang Ji couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through his chest. All the effort — sending his personal attendant with a blade and paying that couple a hefty sum to teach Danruo — was completely worth it. The process didn’t matter as long as she enjoyed it.
However, once he began eating, he found he couldn’t stop.
Bowl after bowl — three in total — disappeared before he finally set down his spoon, thoroughly full. Du Jingyi, sitting beside him, had also finished her portion and leaned back with a contented sigh.
“A life like this is priceless,” she murmured blissfully. “I must find a good husband for Danruo one day, someone within the household, so she can stay here and cook for me all my life.”
Shang Ji smiled faintly. “You think well.”
And he truly agreed. A cook could be hired anywhere, but one with Danruo’s skill — delicate, precise, and full of heart — was not someone they could easily let go of.
While warmth and laughter filled the Xitangyuan [(the Courtyard, traditionally where honored female members of the household reside)], in contrast, the atmosphere within the third branch of the Beiyuan family had grown bleak.
Shang Sanlang and his wife sat facing each other, both weariness and frustration written across their faces.
“Since winter came,” Madam Sanlang said bitterly, “not to mention us, even the maids who serve us haven’t received new winter clothes. I’ve tried several times to see Madam Wei, but every time I’m stopped outside. Husband, at this rate, I fear we won’t last long in this Duke’s Mansion.”
Although their monthly allowance — their regular silver [(a standard stipend provided to branch households in noble families)] — was still being paid, there was nothing else beyond it.
In the past, she could rely on various excuses to draw a few extra taels from the main household, or even go crying to Madam Wei, who would discreetly offer some through a servant.
But now, Yunjinyuan [(the luxurious courtyard where the main wife, Madam Wei, resides)] clearly had no intention of helping.
The silver notes that Liuniang had sent earlier were still held tightly by Erlang’s wife. Even if Madam Sanlang dared to ask for them, she didn’t have the courage anymore — years of living with her sister-in-law had taught her exactly what kind of person that woman was.
At a time like this, everyone sought to protect themselves first.
She sighed softly, her voice filled with helplessness. “It’s like we’re completely cut off.”
Shang Sanlang frowned and finally said, “If the household funds aren’t enough, just deduct it from my own expenses. Most of what I eat and drink outside is paid by others anyway. I can manage by being a little frugal.”
Madam Sanlang quickly shook her head. “Nonsense, husband! Now is precisely the time for you to make friends with influential people. How can you save on such expenses? Fortunately, I’ve saved a little over the years. It’s enough to last us half a year — maybe even a full one — but after spring… it’ll be difficult.”
Her gaze dimmed as she thought aloud, “The children’s tuition, their study materials, the needles and silks for embroidery… all must be prepared.”
She had borne four children — two sons and two daughters — a blessing most women would envy. Yet that blessing now felt like a heavy burden.
Though she had a dowry, it was meant for her children’s futures, and using it now seemed improper. Her expression darkened with distress.
Shang Sanlang pondered for a while, then spoke gently. “I’ve been idle lately. I’ll ask around to see if there’s any business opportunity I can join. The New Year’s coming — if we find the right venture, perhaps we can make a small profit and won’t have to worry about next year’s expenses.”
He wasn’t as hopeless as his older brother, Shang Erlang. Hearing his plan, Madam Sanlang’s eyes softened with relief, though she added cautiously, “The East Garden will soon be vacated. I’m sure a lot of furniture will be left behind. I’ll visit my Sixth Sister-in-law in the next few days. With her wealth, even the casual things she discards are worth something. I can pawn a few to get some money.”
Though Shang Sanlang still had some pride, it wasn’t enough to resist practical solutions. So when he heard this, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll follow your arrangements.”
While the couple schemed in quiet desperation, Madam Wei — who had long been residing in the Yunjin Courtyard — awoke uneasy that same morning.
She sat on the edge of her bed, feeling a dull pressure in her chest that wouldn’t go away. Across from her, her husband, Shang Yukuan [(the Duke, head of the family)], was already dressed in his formal court attire [(a dark robe embroidered with golden cranes, symbolizing high rank among nobles)], having breakfast calmly.
Watching him stirred a faint ache in her heart.
“Did you not sleep well, Madam?” Shang Yukuan asked, noticing her pallor. “You don’t look very energetic today.”
Madam Wei forced a gentle smile. “Thank you for your concern, Master. I’ve just been feeling unwell these past few days — nothing serious. I’ll recover once this winter passes.”
Her tone was light, but there was a trace of sorrow in her eyes that her husband failed to notice.
He lingered only a short while longer before glancing toward the window. “I left later than usual today. If I don’t go now, I’ll be late for court.”
He rose, adjusting his jade belt [(a sign of official dignity worn by high-ranking nobles)], and after taking a few final sips of porridge, he said, “When I return, I’ll stop by Tianxiang Tower. Doesn’t Madam love their four-color crispy candies? I’ll buy some for you.”
Those words pierced straight into Madam Wei’s heart. For a brief moment, she wanted to ask him to stay — to tell him what was truly weighing on her mind — but when she remembered her grandson’s situation, she swallowed the words back.
His safety came first.
So she smiled, hiding her sorrow. “Thank you, Master.”
Satisfied with her reply, Shang Yukuan straightened his collar and strode out. The snow had lightened today, yet the servant still held an umbrella above him, shielding him from the flakes falling off the tree branches.
When he finally disappeared beyond the gate, the brightness in Madam Wei’s eyes dimmed again. She turned to the window, gazing at the snow drifting softly from the gray sky.
Outside, the streets of Pingle were already coming alive with morning bustle.
And within that flurry of quiet snow and faint chatter, Shang Yukuan had no idea — as he lifted the carriage curtain to look out — that he was already stepping straight into a snare