She wanted to hate, but what good would it do? Her heart churned with disgust, as though she had swallowed live maggots.
“Madam, please don’t feel despair,” Aunt Jiao whispered gently. “There are countless renowned physicians in the world. Even if the imperial physician cannot cure Young Master He’er’s leg, there may yet be miracle doctors among the people. Once you regain your health, we can begin asking discreetly. Perhaps Heaven still holds a chance for him.”
Aunt Jiao’s words were like a clear spring seeping into Madam Wei’s parched heart.
The dimness in her eyes lifted slightly, and she murmured to herself:
“Yes… there must be miracle doctors. I cannot collapse. If I falter at such a small hurdle, will I not become the laughingstock infront of the East Courtyard? Dongyuan is nearly in his grave, and yet they still manage to live in comfort. I, too, must not show weakness.”
With this thought, she closed her eyes, forcing her heart to settle, then instructed Aunt Jiao firmly:
“Send word to my Father and to Auntie. Ask them to search for the finest doctors outside. We can afford any price. As long as He’er’s leg is healed—even if it required human flesh—I would endure it.”
Aunt Jiao nodded solemnly. She had served Madam Wei for decades and knew well her mistress’s iron resolve.
But in her agitation, Madam Wei’s breath caught in her chest ; she fell into a fit of coughing. Only after struggling to draw air did she rasp, “What is up with Dongyuan? How has it been these past days?”
“I have not heard much,” Aunt Jiao replied, “but it seems they all went out today.”
“They all left together?”
“Yes, Madam. Three carriages in total—I imagine the whole family went.”
Madam Wei fell silent, her mind working. So many people moving at once, at this time—it could only be related to the General’s Mansion.
She clenched her jaw. Here she was, drowning in troubles, while the East Courtyard busied themselves with securing a brighter future. How could she endure such a contrast?
“If He’er’s leg remains crippled, his future will be destroyed. Only the title of Young Master can safeguard him. Silang is as useless as his father—so we must make preparations in advance.”
Aunt Jiao agreed gravely. “Yes, Madam. Your words are sound.”
Madam Wei’s eyes grew cold. “They want to move out, do they? Very well. I will prepare them a generous farewell gift. Let us see if their good fortune remains intact once their elders are no longer there to shield them.”
At these words, she cast a meaningful glance at Aunt Jiao. Decades as mistress and maid had forged a tacit bond; with a single look, they could share intent.
Poor Duke—still blissfully unaware of what storms were about to fall upon him—sat quietly in his study, leafing through his beloved poetry and paintings, as though nothing in the world had changed.
At the gates of the General’s Mansion (a vast estate bestowed upon military officials of high merit), three carriages came to a halt.
“Young Madam, we have arrived,” the driver called.
“Okay,” replied Du Jingyi calmly, stepping down.
Her eldest sister-in-law, Madam Liu, followed with equal composure. Eighth Miss Xueniang, however, kept her face veiled—an unmarried girl of good family must be cautious about showing herself in public [in traditional society, young women of marriageable age were expected to avoid exposure outside].
Standing nearby, young Shang Zhiping’s eyes lit with excitement when he beheld the plaque inscribed with the bold characters “General’s Mansion.” Yet beneath his excitement ran nervousness—an unease mirrored in both Madam Liu and Eighth Miss Xueniang.
Du Jingyi noticed their apprehension and smiled.
“When I first accompanied the General to inspect this mansion, I too felt nervous. I feared it was too vast, too grand—beyond my ability to manage. But once you move in, the courtyards will come alive with your presence. And with Eldest Sister-in-law here, even little ghosts would not dare cause mischief.”
Her lighthearted words brought laughter to their faces.
Madam Liu, usually reserved, even teased for the first time:
“So I am a favorite in the Palace of the King of Hell now? Even the little ghosts dare not offend me.”
Du Jingyi laughed. “No, Eldest Sister-in-law—you are surely a Bodhisattva descended from Heaven. The little ghosts will scatter at your sight.”
The jest lifted their spirits, sweeping away earlier tension.
“Come,” said Du Jingyi warmly, “let us go in and see what our new home will be like.”
Xueniang and Zhiping followed eagerly at her word.
Once they crossed the threshold, all were struck dumb by the sight.
The masons, carefully chosen by Mama Dou, had worked with both speed and precision, and new servants were already taking their posts. With its renovations nearly complete, the mansion shone more magnificent than ever before.
The front hall stood grand and imposing, furnished entirely with heavy rosewood. On either side of the courtyard, rare trees—selected by a feng shui master [feng shui being the art of harmonizing structures and natural elements for fortune]—grew with stubborn greenery. Even in winter, the leaves remained vivid, exuding a spirit of tenacious life.
From there, they passed through winding corridors into the inner courtyards, a vast expanse designed for the family’s private living. If the front hall spoke of majesty for guests, the inner quarters spoke of comfort and refinement.
The Gu family—renowned for its ancient lineage and refined tastes—had lent its influence. The style was even more elegant than the Gu estate back in Jinling City [Jinling being the old name of Nanjing, a cultural and political hub].
Every detail was lavish yet tasteful, dazzling the eyes without tipping into ostentation.
So enchanting was the view that Xueniang, forgetful of propriety, tore off her veil and handed it to her maid Chun Ning. Her face glowed as she exclaimed:
“This mansion is truly splendid! Sixth Sister-in-law, are you certain we may live here as well?”
Du Jingyi chuckled. “Of course, Eighth Sister. Come—let us see your courtyard. I wager you will be most pleased.”
At this, Xueniang’s eyes shone brighter.
“Quickly, quickly, I must see it too!” she urged.
Smiling, Du Jingyi gestured for Mama Dou to lead the way.
It took less than half an incense stick of time to reach the East Courtyard, yet by the end, Madam Liu and Xueniang were both slightly breathless.
“I expected the General’s Mansion to be large,” Madam Liu said between breaths, “but not this immense. Even walking only within the East Garden, one can go back and forth and still not feel it small.”
Mama Dou smiled knowingly. “That is true, Eldest Madam. But this is but the East Courtyard. The estate also includes the West Courtyard, the main hall in the north, the guards’ barracks, the martial training grounds, and the back gardens. To tour the entire estate in one go—why, we might not leave before sundown.”
Xueniang’s smile faltered, her bright face tinged with dismay. Then she sighed.
“Then I must make a habit of walking often. Otherwise, once I move in, if I wish to visit Eldest Sister-in-law or Sixth Sister-in-law, I fear my legs will swell before I arrive!”
Her words made everyone laugh again.
So talking and laughing, they entered the East Courtyard.
The renovations had transformed it into something wholly new. Where before it was only lovely scenery, now it gleamed with refined detail.
Every item had been replaced with fresh furnishings—even the embroidery rack that Ba Niang usually used was now carved of golden pear wood [huanghuali, a rare and elegant timber prized in Ming and Qing furniture].
The effect was exquisite.