Among everyone in the mansion, Shang Qilang looked up to his elder brother Shang Ji the most. More than ten years his senior, Shang Ji was someone he admired deeply—though always with a touch of fear. Shang Qilang also personally believed that his mother had been wrong to allow their uncles and grandparents from the third and fifth households to stir up such chaos in the back house.
But she was still his mother—and before her, even his earnest pleas held little weight.
Having chosen the path of a civil official, Shang Qilang understood the crucial role family unity played in maintaining influence at court. If old grudges tore the Shang family apart, their collective strength would inevitably crumble. That concern—heavy and suffocating—was what gave him the courage to come here today.
But to his dismay, his words fell on deaf ears.
He watched as his Sixth Brother regarded him—not with warmth, but with mockery—before finally speaking.
“Seventh Brother,” Shang Ji said coldly, “perhaps your life has been too smooth, leading you to believe that everyone else should be as pure and noble as you? When my Gu family died serving this country, how did the people in this courtyard honor their sacrifices? When my elder brother and mother passed away, how did Madam Wei, a concubine, rise to power in this household?
“My widowed sister-in-law has become as fragile as a falling leaf, and my only nephew as timid as a mouse. My wife was left to manage her courtyard alone, with no power or support. And our Eighth Sister? Ignored to the point of becoming ignorant. Tell me, do you know how they’ve lived all these years in this so-called family?”
His voice grew colder with each word.
“And now, you come here expecting me to act like some Bodhisattva? Humph! I am not your father—and I am not someone who can tolerate even a grain of sand in my eye. Don’t let me hear another word like what you said today. Or you’ll regret it.”
He turned his back, his parting words as sharp as a blade.
“Luo Yuan, see him out.”
With that, Shang Ji strode away, offering neither warmth nor recognition of their brotherhood.
Luo Yuan, fiercely loyal to the Gu family, wasted no time. With a somber expression, he stepped forward, his voice as firm as his military bearing.
“Seventh Young Master, please leave at your own pace—I will not be escorting you further.”
Defeated by the icy rejection of both master and servant, Shang Qilang could only rise to his feet and leave. Disappointment was etched across his young face, the sting of rejection fresh in his heart.
Before stepping out, he paused and glanced one last time at Luo Yuan’s stern expression. Words formed in his throat but remained unspoken.
Yet faced with the servant’s unyielding indifference, he swallowed them back—realizing there was no space left for them to be heard.
As Butler He escorted him out, Shang Qilang anxiously tried to explain himself.
“Steward He, you know me. I didn’t mean it like that. Sixth Brother definitely misunderstood me.”
Frustration flickered in his eyes, betraying his deep concern over having inadvertently angered Shang Ji—and possibly damaging their already fragile bond further.
Butler He, a senior steward who had served in the back house for many years, possessed a gentler temperament than Luo Yuan. A faint, knowing smile played at his lips, and his gaze held the calm wisdom of experience. Seeing Shang Qilang’s distress, he offered a few comforting words.
“Young Master Qi, don’t worry. The General has just returned and is troubled by all that has happened here. Naturally, he needs to vent his anger somewhere. He’ll calm down in a few days.”
“Do you think Sixth Brother will speak to me again in the future?” Shang Qilang asked, clearly seeking reassurance.
“You worry too much, Young Master. With time, you’ll mend your relationship,” Butler He replied. His words were gentle, but beneath them lay a deeper truth: while acquaintances could settle for polite exchanges, family required something more enduring.
This realization hung heavily over Shang Qilang. Before he could say more, Butler He bowed slightly and excused himself.
“This old servant must now attend to Madam’s courtyard and cannot delay further. Please watch your step on your way back.”
Understanding the futility of continuing the conversation, Shang Qilang sighed and turned to leave. As he stepped out of the courtyard, he cast one last glance at the silent, stern-faced guards. Words formed in his throat, but they remained unspoken. The indifference he met left no room for further protest.
Once Shang Qilang was out of sight, Butler He turned to the two men standing by the courtyard gate.
“These are turbulent days. Keep a close eye on every door, understood?”
“Yes, we understand,” they replied in unison.
Having given his orders, Butler He made his way toward Fuqiu Courtyard, where the eldest sister-in-law resided. He hadn’t lied—preparing for the General and the young madam’s homecoming was indeed his top priority.
In Fuqiu Courtyard, Madam Liu had just composed herself after a long, bitter crying session. Her tears were gone now, her face once again calm as she carefully reviewed the list of gifts brought by Yingtao for the homecoming visit.
Everything on the list adhered strictly to tradition and etiquette. Three years ago, such a list would have been perfectly adequate. But three years ago was a different era. Now that her brother-in-law, Shang Ji, had been elevated to a second-rank official, the current offerings felt far too modest.
She considered the list thoughtfully, then gave a decisive command.
“Add thirty percent more to the gifts. And include the Taihu Mountain stone screen that my mother left for Sixth Brother and his wife. The Du family used to be mere merchants—such a gift would have been unthinkable before. But now that Sixth Brother has been awarded the title of Jin, and his wife is likely to receive a title soon as well, that screen will be perfectly suited to their main room.”
The Taihu Mountain stone screen had been part of Madam Gu’s dowry. While not especially valuable, it was rare and symbolic, always intended for the couple. Its inclusion was timely and meaningful.
Butler He nodded in agreement, clearly approving of Madam Liu’s decision. Once the revised list was recorded, he immediately sent it to Xitang Courtyard.
By coincidence, Du Jingyi had just awakened from a short nap. When she received the updated gift list, she studied it with surprise.
Her family, after all, was a simple merchant household—neither aristocratic nor politically influential. The generosity of the gifts felt almost excessive.
After a brief pause, she spoke hesitantly.
“Sister-in-law is very generous, but… isn’t this list a bit too extravagant?”
Butler He smiled gently.
“Young Lady, you need not worry. All of this is in accordance with proper etiquette. Now that the General’s status has risen, you too will rise with the tide. This isn’t only about this visit—it applies to future trips to your family and when hosting guests as well.”
Du Jingyi nodded.
“In that case, I thank the steward for all your efforts.”
Her courteous tone wasn’t lost on Butler He. He bowed respectfully, then took his leave.
Now, only three people remained in the main room: the young madam and her two maids.
Li Zhu busied herself choosing clothes and hairpins for the next day’s visit to the Du family, while Yingtao carefully organized the financial ledgers.
A thick stack of account books sat on the table—each one detailing the vast assets included in Du Jingyi’s dowry: 194 shops and tens of thousands of acres of fertile farmland leased to tenant farmers. The profits grew year by year, and so did the ledgers. Keeping them in order required care and skill and Yingtao handled this task with ease.
As she worked, her voice brimmed with joy.
“I’m so happy, Young Lady. You’ve done so well these past three years!”
She didn’t understand every complex figure in the ledgers, but one thing was clear: the thicker the stack, the wealthier her mistress’s private treasury. When it first arrived, the entire dowry barely filled half of the camphor wood chest. Now, it was more than sixty percent full.
Given more time, she mused, this box wouldn’t be enough. She would have to prepare a larger one.
Hearing Yingtao speak so cheerfully about her growing wealth, Du Jingyi’s mind drifted—filled with a tangle of thoughts she didn’t speak aloud.