Feng Jinyao shook her head, her gaze piercing. “I suspect every soul in this courtyard, Mu-qin, except for Mama Bai.”
Madam Feng remained silent, her mind racing through recent memories, yet she could find no obvious crack in the loyalty of her staff. Seeing her mother’s hesitation, Jinyao produced three small, red porcelain bottles from the lacquered box. She drew out a single pill, dissolving it in warm water for her mother to drink, before secreting the remaining bottles within the folds of her inner robes.
The effect was instantaneous. As the liquid passed her lips, the raw, burning itch in Madam Feng’s throat was replaced by a soothing, ethereal coolness.
“This medicine is wondrous,” she whispered, her breath hitching in relief. “It lacks the usual bitterness; it feels like a spring breeze.”
“The Ren family’s reputation is well-earned,” Jinyao said, tucking the blankets around her mother. “One dose brings comfort; three shall bring the cure. You will recover soon, Mu-qin. I will ensure it.”
“And what of the viper in our nest?” Madam Feng asked, her eyes searching her daughter’s face. “What do you intend to do?”
“You must focus only on your health. Leave the storm to me.”
For the first time, Madam Feng looked at her daughter and saw not the pampered Xiao-jie [Young Miss] of the Feng lineage, but a woman forged in shadow, ready to shield her clan. She nodded, a flicker of pride warming her weary heart.
“Coordinate with Mama Bai. She has a ‘sharp eye for bones’ [an idiom for judging character]. If there is a scent of rot, she will find the source.”
As they spoke, Hupo returned with a basin of steaming water. She paused, watching as Madam Feng wiped her mouth with a silk handkerchief, having just finished her “medicine.”
“Bring some of the candied fruit,” Jinyao commanded smoothly, not missing the way Hupo’s eyes darted to the empty bowl. “The bitterness of the draught lingers; Mu-qin needs something sweet to take away the taste.”
The two women played their parts perfectly, engaging in the mundane task of oiling their hair as Hupo gathered the empty porcelain and withdrew. Jinyao’s eyes followed the maid’s retreating figure like a hawk tracking a mouse. Hupo was the Yi-deng Yahuan [First-class Maid] of this courtyard; she held the keys to the medicinal cabinet. If the wells were poisoned, it began with her.
Was she bribed? Or threatened? Jinyao wondered. Either way, she is the thread I will pull to unravel this tapestry of lies.
Soon after Madam Feng drifted into a peaceful, medicated sleep, Jinyao stepped into the courtyard. The winter sun was a pale, heatless coin in the sky at this time she was met by Xiuqiu, who bowed low.
“Xiao-jie, a messenger from the front gates reports that Wen Xiao-jie [Miss Wen] requests an audience.”
“Why has she darkened our door?” Jinyao asked, her voice turning to ice.
“She claims to have found your lost jade pendant and wishes to return it personally.”
“The same tiresome ruse,” Jinyao sneered.
Wen Yuwei was the niece of the Vice Minister of Personnel. She had been sent to the Eastern Capital with a singular purpose: to worm her way into the Feng family through marriage. In her past life, Jinyao had been deceived by her “gentle” nature. Yuwei had called her Jie-jie [Elder Sister] with such sweetness, only to reveal the fangs of a wolf once the Feng family fell from grace.
She used these “lost items” as excuses to bridge the gap between their families, paving a road of corpses for her cousin, Wen Mengsheng.
At the mention of that name, Jinyao’s aura darkened. A malevolent coldness radiated from her, so intense that Xiuqiu shivered, wondering if an E-gui [evil spirit] had possessed her miss. But in a heartbeat, the darkness vanished, replaced by the serene, noble mask of a high-born lady.
“Invite Wen Xiao-jie to wait for me at the Tayue [Treading the Moon] Pavilion,” Jinyao whispered. “I shall join her momentarily.”
Xiuqiu stared after her mistress, bewildered. The Tayue Pavilion was built atop the lotus pond, open to the elements. In the height of summer, it was a paradise; in the depth of winter, it was a frozen tomb.
Meanwhile, Wen Yuwei stood in the covered walkway of the second gate. She maintained a perfect, upright posture—a result of a year’s worth of grueling lessons from a retired Gong-nü [Palace Maid]. Every tilt of her head was calculated to mimic the elegance of the capital’s elite, hiding her humble Jiangnan roots. To the world, she was the “Legitimate Daughter of the Wen house,” a title she wore like stolen silk.
When Xiuqiu arrived to lead her away, Yuwei greeted her with a practiced, sisterly smile.
“Wen Xiao-jie, forgive the delay,” Xiuqiu said, her voice humble but her eyes observant. “Xiao-jie is currently attending to the Fu-ren’s medicine. She has requested you wait in the Tayue Pavilion.”
“We are sisters of the heart; there is no need for such ceremony,” Yuwei chirped, her tone dripping with feigned intimacy. “Tell Sister Feng to put her mother’s health above all else.”
However, as soon as they reached the pavilion, Yuwei’s smile faltered. The pond was a sheet of jagged, thin ice. The wind whistled through the open pillars, biting through her cloak. Unless one intended to go Dong-diao [winter fishing], no sane person would linger here.
Xiuqiu ordered a small brazier of Tan [charcoal] to be brought, but the heat was a pittance against the vast, frozen air of the lake.
Xia Lu, Wen Yuwei’s maid, could no longer contain her indignation. “Miss! What is the meaning of this? Is the Feng family so unlearned in the rites of hospitality? To entertain a guest by the lotus pond in the dead of winter… it is a blatant insult!””Xia Lu, do not speak such nonsense. Sister Feng is known for her kindness; there must be a righteous reason for this arrangement,” Wen Yuwei chided, though her voice was calculated.
She was using her maid’s bluntness to indirectly slap Feng Jinyao’s face, testing the waters. Xiuqiu, an experienced observer of the capital’s hypocrisies, saw through the ruse instantly. She maintained a mask of respectful humility as she bowed.
“Since the arrival of winter, the Fu-ren [Madam] has been plagued by illness,” Xiuqiu explained, her voice smooth. “Though her cough is not contagious, my mistress has issued a Jin-ling [strict order] to keep all outsiders from the inner courtyard to prevent the spread of Bing-qi [illness energy]. The Xiao-jie shares this concern. Aside from the Tayue [Treading the Moon] Pavilion, all warm areas of the mansion are too close to the sickroom.”
“Indeed, I knew Sister Feng’s heart was thoughtful,” Yuwei replied, her smile tightening as the wind whipped through the pavilion. “We must thank her properly when she arrives.”
Xiuqiu looked at her with feigned flattery, but inwardly she felt only contempt. She had seen many social climbers in the Eastern Capital, but rarely one so shameless as to claim “sisterhood” while shivering in an ice-bound pavilion.
At this time a maid brought a pot of hot tea and a few plates of Gao-dian [pastries] to serve. Xia Lu poured a cup for her mistress, whispering in confusion, “Miss, why did we come in such bitterness? You could simply return this jade pendant at the Bai family’s banquet tomorrow.”
“You are still so naive,”Wen Yuwei whispered back, sipping the tea for warmth. “If I return it today, we establish a private debt of gratitude—a bond of friendship. Tomorrow, the Bai matriarch’s banquet will be teeming with distinguished guests. If I can use Feng Jinyao’s connections to be introduced to a few eligible gentlemen, my future is secured.”
“But Miss, the Young Lady of the Duke of Wei is like a sister to you. Why not ask her?”
“Hmph. Do you truly think Wei Lanxuan is so generous?” Wen Yuwei’s eyes flashed with a cold realism. To the Wei family, she was a mere accessory—a follower to make the high-born lady look more luminous. She knew she had to invest her own capital. Only by marrying into a prestigious house like the Fengs could she finally hold her head high.
While Wen Yuwei shivered by the pond, Xiuqiu hurried back to the Ning’an Courtyard. She found Yunxu supervising the arrangement of red sandalwood plum blossoms into a white porcelain vase to “brighten the room.”
“Where is the Xiao-jie?” Xiuqiu asked.
“She is resting. She was at the Fu-ren’s side since dawn; she is catching up on the sleep she lost last night.”
Xiuqiu chuckled softly. “It seems our Miss truly has no taste for this Miss Wen.”
Inside the room, the Di-long [underfloor heating] made the air pleasantly warm. Feng Jinyao was reclined on a plush cushion by the window, bathed in the winter sun. She was not sleeping. Instead, she was engrossed in the Illustrated Treatise on Waterways, a scholarly text on flood control gifted by her brother years ago.
In her previous life, she had ignored such “dull” things. But reborn, she knew that knowledge was the only armor against the coming storms.
When Xiuqiu entered, Feng Jinyao didn’t look up immediately. She placed a bamboo slip between the pages to mark her place before fixing a mocking gaze on her maid.
“Have the arrangements been made?”
“Yes, Xiao-jie. But… when do you intend to see her?”
Feng Jinyao’s lips curled into a chilling smile. “My mother’s condition is fragile. How can a filial daughter leave her side? Have someone keep a sharp eye on our ‘guest’ to ensure she does not wander, then send her away in two or three hours.”
Xiuqiu bowed and withdrew, realizing that her miss had finally seen through the Wen family’s veneer.
Left alone, Feng Jinyao leaned back, her mind drifting to her past life. That day, she had been touched by Wen Yuwei’s “honesty” in returning the white jade double-fish pendant. She had welcomed the girl as a soul-sister and, through her, met Wen Mengsheng—a man who appeared refined but carried a heart of ash.
The Wen family had used that jade pendant to manufacture a “mutual affection,” feigning a noble lineage they did not possess to propose a marriage. Her parents, charmed by their humble posture, had walked straight into the wolf’s den.
Hupo and the poison in the medicine, the “kindness” of the Wen cousins… it was all part of the same web.
Trying to harm the Feng family again? Feng Jinyao thought, her fingers tightening on the book. Never.
Let her stand in the biting wind for a few hours. Let the frost clear her head and teach her that some gates are not meant to be forced.
Back in the Tayue Pavilion, the tea had grown cold long time ago as Wen Yuwei felt the damp chill of the pond seeping into her very bones. Apart from the two silent servants, she had seen no one till now.
Her suspicion began to grow. Was Feng Jinyao truly so occupied? No noble lady of the Eastern Capital would risk her reputation by being so flagrantly disrespectful to a guest—unless the disrespect was the point.
Is she not afraid of the rumors? Yuwei wondered, her teeth beginning to chatter. Or has she truly changed?