“Shang Ji! Du Jingyi!”
Madam Wei’s voice trembled with hatred, her eyes filled with venom so fierce it seemed she wished to gnaw their bones and drink their blood. The East Garden might have belonged to the Duke’s Mansion, but if it burned, their own lives would hardly fare better. Furious yet frightened, she and her son, Shang Silang, hastily ordered the servants to rally everyone in the residence to fight the fire.
The fire raged through the night. Only when the sky began to pale with dawn did the flames finally die out, leaving behind smoldering ruins and acrid smoke that clung to the air. Standing before the charred wreckage, Madam Wei and Shang Silang were so enraged that they nearly fainted.
Such a fine residence—gone, reduced to ashes! Even if it were rebuilt, the cost would exceed hundreds of thousands of taels of silver. Yet everyone in the Duke’s Mansion knew the state of their finances. Without funds to restore it, the East Garden [the residential compound of the Duke’s eldest branch] would remain a ruin. Who would live willingly beside such desolation? For a time, both mother and son could only stare helplessly, their faces twisting with anger.
“I truly underestimated that wolf cub raised by the Gu family,” Madam Wei spat bitterly. “They’re capable of such cruelty!”
“Mother is right,” Shang Silang replied darkly. “This move is nothing short of cutting ties with our Duke’s Mansion!”
Madam Wei’s expression hardened. Her original plan had been simple: even if Shang Ji and Du Jingyi left, she would keep the three members of the Liu family as hostages—both to preserve her reputation and to restrain the East Garden’s descendants. As the Duke’s second wife [the furen of the secondary branch], she could not let outsiders say she had squeezed out the original wife’s bloodline. Keeping those three close also gave her leverage; with them under her thumb, she could deal with Shang Ji and his wife at any time.
Who would have thought they would strike first? The East Garden was now burned beyond recognition, leaving those three with no place to return to. They certainly could not move to the North Garden and join the other wives’ quarters.
As Madam Wei gazed at the ruins, a poisonous thought crept into her heart. “Hmph,” she hissed under her breath. “Don’t think setting fire to the East Garden means you can live comfortably in the General’s Mansion. I’ll make them pay for this!”
But even before she could act on her rage, word came that the people of the East Garden had already reported the matter to the palace.
Madam Xing, accompanied by a household of “ailing women and children,” had personally entered the palace to plead before Empress Guo [the Empress of Daxing Dynasty, noble consort of the reigning emperor]. They all knelt before the empress’s dais, sobbing pitifully.
“Please, Your Majesty,” Madam Xing cried, tears streaming down her face, “have mercy on them. If these two return to the Duke’s Mansion, I fear not even their bones will remain.”
Behind her stood Du Jingyi, her eldest sister-in-law Madam Liu, and her eighth sister, Xueniang. Each of them looked frail and pale, their complexions bloodless, their bodies thin as if carved by suffering. They exuded a faint medicinal scent, the trace of long illness and suppressed fear.
Empress Guo’s heart softened as she looked at them. Memories of the past flickered before her eyes—especially when she noticed Xueniang’s face. The girl bore an uncanny resemblance to the late Madam Gu, whose gentle nature had lingered in her memory even after her passing. The Empress recalled how that poor woman had once come to the palace, frail and trembling, and sighed deeply.
Before the Empress could speak, Madam Xing bowed again and said tearfully, “Everything else can be endured, Your Majesty, but Madam Du is with child—Liu Lang’s child. She dares not speak of it and can only pretend to be ill and hide it. If Madam Wei were to discover her condition, who knows what fate would await her?”
“Pregnant?” Empress Guo’s brows lifted in shock.
Madam Xing nodded fervently. “Yes, she is over two months along.”
The Empress’s expression changed at once. Turning to Nanny An [the senior palace attendant serving Empress Guo], she ordered urgently, “Go, summon the imperial physician to examine Madam Du immediately.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
While Nanny An hurried away, Madam Xing continued her lament. Her cries filled the quiet palace hall, the sound of despair and grievance echoing through the high beams.
Madam Liu and Xueniang knelt beside her, trembling. They were terrified—afraid of deceiving the Empress, yet too frightened to contradict Madam Xing’s plea. But their meekness only deepened the Empress’s sympathy.
To her eyes, their fear and hesitation were not deceit, but proof of how oppressed they had been under Madam Wei’s household. After all, one was the wife of the Duke’s eldest son, and the other the Duke’s own daughter. How could such noble-born women appear so timid and downtrodden unless they had truly been mistreated?
Her suspicion toward Madam Wei grew stronger.
“I heard that the East Garden burned down?” Empress Guo asked, her tone turning grave. “What happened?”
Du Jingyi lowered her eyes, her voice faint and weary. “Your Majesty… the buildings in the East Garden have not been repaired for over ten years. The paint peeled and the beams were weak. Half a year ago, I mentioned to my father-in-law that much of the fireproof lacquer had decayed and should be renewed. But the household’s accounts are managed by Madam Wei, and she said that with mansion’s expenses so high, there were no funds to spare for us right now.”
Her lips trembled faintly as she continued. “Yet when my father-in-law’s birthday came a few days ago, the entire Yunjin Courtyard [the grand residence of the Duke’s primary branch] was freshly renovated. Later, when my fifth grandfather’s family caused trouble and joined hands with my third grandfather’s branch to smash the courtyard furnishings, everything was repaired again in only a few days. If not for Your Majesty’s gracious reward to the General’s Mansion, I fear we of the East Garden would have long been forced to move into the North Garden, into the ruined quarters once used by my fifth uncle’s family.”
Her words were soft, her tone respectful, yet every sentence carried a quiet sting.
Du Jingyi bowed low and said nothing more. Madam Xing also knelt, silent but attentive. Together, they seemed merely to explain a household mishap—but beneath their calm words lay a story of long neglect and hidden grievance.
The Empress’s eyes darkened. These were the Duke’s legitimate descendants, yet they had been left to suffer in decay while others enjoyed luxury. She could not help but speak with restrained anger.
“All the children of the East Garden are Yunhe’s bloodline,” she said coldly. “How could they live in such misery?”
At these words, Madam Liu and Xueniang could no longer suppress their tears. Years of humiliation welled up all at once.
“Your Majesty, please understand,” Madam Liu sobbed. “Dalang is gone, my mother-in-law is gone, my grandfather’s family is gone… what status do we have left—an orphan, a widow, and a weak sister—in that mansion?”
Her cry pierced the Empress’s heart. Yes—legitimate descendants, yet powerless. After Madam Wei’s rise, her children too were deemed legitimate. The balance had long shifted.
If not for Shang Ji’s return in glory, those in the East Garden would still be living in shadows, their dignity crushed beneath others’ heels.
Empress Guo’s gaze softened. In their plight, she saw reflections of her own—favored once, forgotten now. A faint, bitter smile touched her lips.
The beauty of her youth had faded, and though she remained the mother of the Crown Prince, the warmth of imperial favor had long grown cold. Yet unlike Du Jingyi and her sisters, she could not surrender to despair. She was not Gu Yunhe’s wife; she was the Empress of Daxing, the pillar of the inner court, and the daughter of the Prime Minister’s Mansion. Behind her stood the empire’s power.
Her tone grew solemn. “No matter how this fire began, it has burned away what bound you to that household. Take it as Heaven’s will. Whether you choose to remain in the General’s Mansion or not, I hope you begin anew and live without fear.”
With Empress Guo’s decree, their hearts finally steadied. No matter how formidable Madam Wei might be within the Duke’s Mansion, she could never surpass the authority of the reigning Empress.
“Your Majesty’s benevolence is boundless,” Madam Xing and the others said in unison, bowing deeply.
Just then, Nanny An returned, leading the imperial physician into the hall. The one who came was Doctor Wang [the Empress’s personal physician, an elderly court doctor renowned for his skill]. His long white beard framed a face calm and wise, and his bearing carried the quiet grace of an immortal.
Empress Guo gestured toward Du Jingyi. “Doctor Wang, please examine the pulse of the General’s wife.”