Sister-in-law Liu had received the imperial news, and the joy in her heart could hardly be contained. Other than those present, the first person she wished to share the good tidings with was her son, Shang Zhiping, so she immediately volunteered to write him a letter herself.
Du Jingyi and Madam Xing exchanged a quiet smile. Seeing Sister-in-law Liu’s long-held worries finally lifted brought them relief as well. The bright laughter that echoed through the General’s Mansion seemed to carry warmth even into the cold of early winter.
Yet, where one place bloomed with joy, another darkened with bitterness.
In the stately halls of the Duke’s Mansion, the mood was anything but cheerful.
“What? She’s been granted the title of First Rank Consort? How could she possibly deserve that?”
Madam Wei, draped in a layered robe of deep indigo silk [(a color traditionally reserved for noble ladies of the upper fourth rank and above)], slammed her teacup down so hard that porcelain fragments scattered across the floor. Rage now twisted on her elegant face andher teeth grinding audibly.
She herself had lived long enough to have never received such an honor — yet those two women, of all people, had gotten it first!
Du Jingyi was fine as her husband Shang Ji’s battlefield merits had won him favor with the Emperor. That much could be explained.
But that Liu woman? She was nothing more than a housekeeper’s wife elevated by luck! And now, to be named a Second Rank Consort [(“Erpin Furen” — an honor bestowed to the wives of meritorious nobles, below only first rank titles in the imperial hierarchy)]? It was absurd beyond measure.
Madam Wei’s anger burned until her chest ached. She looked ready to explode, but Mama Jiao, her long-serving personal attendant, quickly stepped forward with soft words.
“Madam, please don’t distress yourself. An imperial edict doesn’t mean much in the long run. Would anyone truly abandon the Duke’s Mansion just to curry favor with the wife of the eldest young master?”
Her tone was oily and soothing — yet every word slid perfectly into Madam Wei’s wounded pride.
Madam Wei’s tightly drawn lips curled into a cold sneer.
“Hmph. True enough. But I still can’t stomach it! Liu shi—that woman—receiving an imperial decree that praises her as a ‘meritorious wife’?” Her voice trembled with rage. “Isn’t that a slap in my face? As though to say I, the stepmother of this household, have been cruel and unkind, and she has had to endure so much hardship to confer the title of meritorious wife!”
In truth, her carefully maintained reputation — the image of a wise and virtuous matron — had been crumbling for some time.
The scandals had come one after another: the fifth branch embroiled in disgrace, her grandson’s leg broken by her maternal grandson, and the third branch is even accused of hiring assassins all under her reign.
The walls of the Duke’s Mansion, once thick with prestige, could no longer muffle the whispers outside. As rumors always spread like wildfire.
After all, what could be more delightful for idle townsfolk than tales of noble intrigue?
And so, Madam Wei’s name was now a coin tossed between two camps — half praised, half despised.
Those sympathetic to her said she was an unfortunate stepmother burdened with troublesome relatives.
Those who scorned her whispered she was heartless, a poor mistress who had lost control of her household.
Meanwhile, those who had moved to Dongyuan — the former eastern estate — had been spared the worst of public opinion.
They were pitied, even admired for enduring so much.
This, more than anything, made Madam Wei’s blood boil more. All her resentment — every drop of humiliation — was now directed squarely at the people of Dongyuan, especially Du Jingyi.
Before, she had merely wanted to keep them from rising again.
Now? She wanted them ruined.
“Hmph,” she scoffed, voice sharp as broken glass. “Dongyuan may bask in imperial favor for now — but this is no different from the Gu family’s fleeting glory all those years ago. Just wait. I’ll live to see their downfall.”
Aunt Jiao nodded quickly, lowering her voice.
“Madam is right. Military generals have always drawn suspicion from the throne — especially one as powerful as the Sixth Young Master. Just wait. Retribution will come soon enough for them .”
While the mistress and servant whispered venom in the inner chamber, a sudden commotion broke out outside the screen.
The servant on duty burst in breathlessly.
“Madam — the Duke! The Duke is awake!”
Madam Wei froze mid-motion.
Awake?
After all this time — now, when everything was over — now he woke up?
She and Mama Jiao exchanged a long glance, both catching the same flicker of distaste in the other’s eyes. They conveniently forgot that, had it not been for their scheming, Shang Yukuan, the Duke himself, would never have suffered this injury at all.
But pretense had to be maintained.
Drawing a deep breath, Madam Wei composed her expression into one of anxious devotion. Her eyes reddened, and she hurried toward the inner room, her voice choked with sobs.
“Master! Master—”
Her cries echoed through the chamber as she entered.
Shang Yukuan, the Duke of the household, lay pale and weakened upon the carved sandalwood bed. He had only just regained consciousness. His head spun, his memory a blur.
The sharp sting of medicine clung to the air, and his entire body was swathed in bandages. His left arm, bound tightly and soaked through with ointment, pulsed with unbearable pain. He groaned involuntarily.
When Madam Wei saw him, her eyes overflowed with seemingly heartfelt sorrow.
“Master, you’re finally awake?” Her voice trembled between disbelief and relief. “Heavens above knows … I was so frightened. If you hadn’t woken up , I truly wouldn’t have wanted to live.”
Seeing her weep so sincerely, Shang Yukuan’s heart softened despite his confusion. His own eyes grew wet.
“It’s all right… Hui Niang, don’t cry.”
“Hui Niang” — her maiden name Minghui — was what he used to call her back in their younger, tender years. The sound of it now made Madam Wei’s heart stir faintly.
Memories surfaced — sweet ones, of days long gone. But that was all they were now: memories.
Wiping her tears with a silk handkerchief embroidered with magnolias [(a flower symbolizing feminine dignity and perseverance)], she turned to Mama
Jiao and spoke in a steady tone.
“Quickly, go tell Si Lang the good news. He’s been so worried these past few days. If it weren’t forhim to care for He’er, I’m sure he’d have stayed here day and night at your bedside.”
Shang Yukuan was visibly moved.
He had always held affection for Shang Silang — perhaps because the boy resembled him most in both face and temper.
But that didn’t mean he favored him exclusively.
“And also,” he added after a pause, “send word to Liu Lang. He must be worried too.”
Madam Wei’s expression shifted slightly at the mention of Liu Lang. Sadness — real or feigned — clouded her face.
Shang Yukuan noticed and frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
Mama Jiao, ever quick to interject, stepped forward with a hurried explanation.
“Master, many things happened while you were unconscious. The family from Dongyuan… they’ve already moved out. If we wish to inform the General that you’ve awoken, someone will have to go all the way to the General’s Mansion.”
“Mama Jiao, that’s enough.”
Madam Wei shot her a warning glance, then sighed, as though pained by the tension between father and son.
When Shang Yukuan heard this, disbelief flashed across his face — followed by anger.
“They moved… while I was unconscious?”
His voice rose, the tone sharp with accusation. Were it not for his injuries, he would have gone down himself to question them.
Madam Wei quickly dismissed the attendants and took his hand gently.
“Master, please don’t be angry. They did move, but there was reason behind it. You’ve just woken — you mustn’t upset yourself. Focus on healing. I’ll explain everything later.”
In truth, she had no intention of clarifying anything soon.
Why should she? Let her husband’s resentment simmer for a while. Let him “hate” those in Dongyuan — just for a few more days.
As for Shang Yukuan, he merely sighed inwardly. Some bitterness inevitably took root in his heart.
His recovery was long and miserable. The wound on his arm pained him day and night; sleep came rarely, and his appetite dwindled. He grew gaunt and hollow-eyed.
For a man like Shang Ji, such an injury would have been minor — nothing more than a scar.
But for Shang Yukuan, the wound had nearly cost his life. He required the most precious medicinal herbs, and even so, the pain made him groan daily.
Madam Wei tended to him diligently, though irritation occasionally flickered behind her soft demeanor. Still, she continued to feed him, change his dressings, and play the role of the devoted wife with patience and care.