Whispers floated through the corridor like smoke.
“It seems the old lady has long been disappointed in the young master. Imagine marrying him off to a blind woman.”
“The wedding was conducted by a servant in his place, and the bride spent her wedding night alone. Clearly, the young master doesn’t take her seriously. She’s bound to have a miserable time ahead.”
“Should we go over and greet her?”
“Are you stupid? You know how unpredictable the young master is. He might replace this ‘young madam’ in a few days. Why bother?”
Still gossiping!
Jiang Fusheng glared sharply at the murmuring servants, her face turning red with anger. She then turned to comfort Lu Zhiling, her voice trembling slightly.
“Madam, please don’t mind their nonsense. You are the eldest grandson’s wife, personally chosen by the old madam herself. Your days will only get better.”
When she turned back, Jiang Fusheng froze in surprise.
Lu Zhiling walked forward with graceful composure—her steps neither hurried nor timid, her posture dignified, her face serene. The cruel whispers that lingered behind her seemed to dissolve before they could touch her.
This madam… was remarkably calm.
Like a beam of moonlight—soft, clear, and untouchable.
Lu Zhiling gave a faint smile. “Can you tell me about the layout of the Bo residence?”
Even after such ridicule, she still had the mind to ask about her surroundings. Jiang Fusheng couldn’t see through her.
She began explaining hesitantly, “Last year, the old master was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. The old madam thought the main mansion was too noisy, so the two elders moved to a smaller Western-style villa (in China, a “Western-style building” or xiyanglou refers to modernized or European-influenced architecture, often separate from the traditional family estate) on the east side.”
Lu Zhiling nodded lightly, her expression calm.
“As for the main residence—it has six floors,” Jiang Fusheng continued. “The first floor is the public area and guest rooms. The second floor is the master’s office. The third floor is where you and the eldest young master will live. The fourth floor belongs to Madam Yu, the second young master, and the third young lady. The fifth floor is empty for now. The sixth floor is where Madam Xia and the youngest young master stay.”
She paused for a moment, then added quietly, “If you wish to take walks or relax, Madam, it’s better to go toward the back gardens. There are sports courts, an archery range, a ski slope, a small stage and theater, a botanical garden, and even a taming valley (a private training ground often used for horses or falcons).”
Her tone carried an unspoken reminder: The Bo family’s inner circle is complicated. It’s safer to avoid wandering through the main building.
During those sleepless nights before the wedding, Lu Zhiling had read countless reports about the Bo family.
The Bo clan had been a powerful house for nearly two centuries. But it was Bo Zhengrong—Bo Wang’s father—who expanded it into an empire. Under his leadership, the Bo Consortium flourished, becoming one of the most influential conglomerates in Country K, with control over real estate, banking, oil, transportation, and manufacturing.
Not long after the Lu family’s bankruptcy, the Bo family had risen to absolute dominance.
Bo Zhengrong, now in his fifties, had never remarried since the disappearance of his first wife and eldest son, Bo Wang. Yet he was no stranger to scandal.
The former actress Yu Yunfei had once been his lover, giving birth to a son and daughter who now lived openly within the Bo estate. Later, his personal secretary, Xia Meiqing, also bore him a son—who, too, was brought into the family.
Though Bo Zhengrong publicly declared that both women were part of the family and his “trusted companions,” he refused to marry either.
Society whispered that Yu Yunfei had the stronger claim—after all, her son, Bo Tang, was her pride, a gifted heir currently studying overseas.
But Xia Meiqing was only thirty-two—young, beautiful, and charming enough to keep Bo Zhengrong’s interest. The future was uncertain.
From such stories alone, Lu Zhiling could tell—the Bo family’s internal relations were far from simple.
And now, with Bo Wang—a man as dangerous and unpredictable as a coiled serpent—this mansion truly was what people called a den of dragons and tigers (a Chinese idiom meaning a place full of powerful, dangerous figures).
Yet, as the light returned to her once-blind eyes, something else had returned as well—her fighting spirit.
She was no longer afraid. She knew exactly how she would walk this path.
“We’ve arrived at Chunchu Hall (a poetic name often used for dining rooms or banquet halls, literally meaning ‘Hall of Spring and Autumn’),” Jiang Fusheng said softly.
The grand dining hall was elegantly decorated, with crystal chandeliers hanging above and sunlight spilling across the long tables. The guests who had stayed after last night’s wedding banquet were now seated for breakfast, murmuring over porcelain teacups.
When Lu Zhiling appeared at the doorway, the room fell silent for a few heartbeats before resuming its chatter. No one greeted her. No one even looked at her twice.
But from the far end of the hall, a boy—dressed in fine clothes and holding a basketball—glared at her.
His delicate features twisted in fury, his bright eyes filled with indignation.
He looked at Lu Zhiling as though she had stolen something precious.