Chapter One

The hour of the Tiger had passed, and sunlight filtered gently through the thin window gauze into the room.

It was early summer now, the heat gradually intensifying. Though it was morning, there was already a hint of sultriness in the air.

Li Lanxin awoke drowsily, opening her eyes. The thin quilt had somehow slipped to the foot of the bed, leaving her with only a small piece of cloth wrapped around her abdomen. Her soft gauze nightgown had been discarded entirely, lying lonely on the edge of the bed. If not for the faint barrier of the canopy, it might have already fallen to the floor.

She stared blankly at the canopy above for a moment, then raised her hand to wipe the thin sweat from her brow before propping herself up to sit.

Looking around at the disarray of the bed, she sighed with a slight headache.

Unlike the light and ethereal beauty so coveted by women nowadays, she was full-figured. No matter how much she tried to diet, she never seemed to lose weight.

In the past, she once attempted to go without food or drink, but usually fell ill before losing a single pound. Eventually, she stopped forcing herself and simply ate and drank as needed, nourishing her soft flesh until it grew even more delicate.

Perhaps for this reason, she was especially sensitive to heat. Whenever the hot season came, her sleep would be restless, and every early morning felt as if she had been tossing and wrestling on the bed all night.

She reached under her pillow for a long wooden hairpin, skillfully coiling her waist-length black hair into a bun, then slipped her nightgown back on and neatly tidied the bedding.

Many years ago, when Xu Yu was still alive and she lived with him in the General’s mansion, these tasks were done by maids and servants. After Xu Yu passed away and she moved to Qingluo Alley, she no longer kept up such formalities. Besides, she was never a noble lady to begin with. Before marrying Xu Yu, she did not even have her own bed.

The small two-courtyard house at the end of the alley was modest. Li Lanxin lived there with her two personal maids. The neighboring courtyard, separated by a wall, was also property of the General’s mansion and housed servants sent by the estate.

These coarse servants were responsible for cleaning and laundry in her courtyard and, every seven days, reported her comings and goings in detail to her mother-in-law.

Looking at the hour outside, the neighboring courtyard was probably beginning to stir.

In the heat of summer, there was no need for hot water in the morning. After washing in the washroom, Li Lanxin opened her wardrobe. The first few dresses that caught her eye were elegant and exquisite, made of silk or brocade with subtle embroidery of impeccable craftsmanship and considerable value.

She paused briefly, then skipped over them and took out a tea-colored inner skirt and a camel-yellow shawl, their dull colors and plain designs reflecting what she wore most often.

The fine garments hanging there had been bought for her by Xu Yu years ago, but now she rarely wore them.

Since widowhood, the gossip among her mother-in-law, sisters-in-law, and other relatives had never ceased.

The most common accusations were that she was heartless and unfeeling, showing no sorrow over her husband’s death. Other women who lost their husbands young were said to waste away in grief, but she remained well-nourished and even more alluring, clearly restless and improper.

They also claimed her motives were impure. With her husband’s health so poor near the end, she had urged him to arrange another residence so she wouldn’t have to serve the in-laws in the mansion, allowing her to roam freely outside. They whispered that any day now some rogue could sneak in.

Li Lanxin remained silent in response. Living under the same roof, she had no means to fight back against the powerful family women. Besides, outside of festive gatherings, she seldom had to hear their words, and endured them as best she could.

Though her mother-in-law, Madam Zhang, never openly sided with those slanders, she gradually increased the number of servants next door and sent her ever plainer clothes and jewelry, almost dull in color. Makeup was limited to eyebrow pencils and concealers, often preaching that widows should be plain-faced.

Li Lanxin accepted it all without complaint. After all, it was far better than the days when she had wandered from relative’s house to house in hemp clothes and straw sandals, exposed to sun and rain, begging for food.

Dressed, she heard the maid’s voice outside: “Madam, are you awake? The tea is ready, but the porridge and dishes will take a little longer.”

Li Lanxin opened the door and saw the head maid, Limián, half-leaning out from the second courtyard’s gate.

“Is Xing’er awake?”

Limián’s face was full of helplessness as she complained, “You don’t know her, madam. That lazy little thing would rather stay in bed forever. She’s still asleep.”

In the courtyard were two maids: Limián, assigned to Li Lanxin by Xu Yu when they married, who had stayed with her all these years; and Xing’er, a younger maid Li Lanxin had purchased from a street vendor after leaving the mansion. Xing’er was barely ten years old.

Five years ago, Xing’er’s family had been wiped out by famine. She had followed the vendor to the capital, but as a tiny child, she had no clothes, and her feet were bleeding and muddy. Innocently clutching the hemp rope used to sell her, she wandered about until Li Lanxin passed by, took pity on her, and bought her.

Xing’er was good in every way, except sometimes slow-witted and honest to a fault. She was especially dependent on Li Lanxin and Limián, fond of fussing and staying in bed. Her earnest, serious demeanor was often endearing and softened hearts.

Li Lanxin smiled and shook her head. “She’s still young; wanting to stay in bed is natural. Wait a little and try waking her again. I’ll come over soon.”

“Alright,” Limián replied.

Li Lanxin returned to her room and went to the small side chamber. She opened the window, letting in the faint sunlight that fell on the shrine table bearing the inscription: “Spirit Tablet of the Late Husband Xu Yu.”

She propped the window open, deftly lit a thin incense stick, flicked away the sparks, bowed three times, and placed the incense in the burner.

All these motions were as smooth as flowing water, repeated every day for the past eight years.

As the smoke slowly curled upward, Li Lanxin stepped out of the room and descended the steps.

Under the dense banyan tree to the left of the courtyard, Limián had already set out breakfast. On hot days, they often ate at the stone table here, enjoying the cool breeze, which helped their appetites.

The porridge was still hot. Li Lanxin sat down but did not rush to eat. She stirred the rice water with her spoon to cool it faster. Limián sat beside her. For many years, only the three of them had relied on each other in this courtyard, so they rarely observed strict master-servant etiquette.

Li Lanxin looked up. “Yesterday, a message came asking me to visit today if I had time. You’ll come with me. Let Xing’er stay behind to watch over the others as they clean.”

Limián frowned. “There haven’t been any festivals lately. Mid-Autumn is still far off. I don’t know why Madam wants you to go.”

Yesterday, a servant from the General’s mansion came by to deliver a message from Madam Zhang, saying there was an important matter to discuss. The servant left with her chin raised, and they had no chance to pry further.

Li Lanxin sipped her porridge slowly. “It’s probably nothing serious.”

Most likely, it was about her mother-in-law’s grief over the early deaths of her two sons, her illness flaring up again, and her desire to gather the widowed and unmarried daughters-in-law to remember the deceased with tears.

Then she would compare the widow left in the mansion, chiding her in the process.

“But Madam is always finding ways to humiliate you when you go back,” Limián said, her voice low with anger. “You’re not their scapegoat, though. It was Second Master who cared for you, arranging for you to move out early. This wasn’t your fault. You’ve been faithful to him all these years. Why do they make things harder and harder for you? Look at Qi’s servant who came yesterday—she had such a nasty look in her eyes, like she wanted to trample you underfoot. Who knows how they’ll treat you this time.”

Li Lanxin smiled softly, swallowing her porridge. “It’s not so tragic. You make it sound like I’m imprisoned and awaiting punishment. In this world, I have food, clothes, and work. What else is there to be ungrateful for? Eat quickly; the porridge will be too watery soon.”

She gestured toward the courtyard wall.

Walls have ears; best to say little.

Limián glared at her as if she were iron that could not be forged, then angrily raised her bowl and drank, as if swallowing a heroic sorrow unknown to sparrows.

“Madam!”

The door of the west room slammed open, and hurried footsteps approached.

The little maid scrambled to fix her double buns and dashed from the door to the table like a gust of wind.

Li Lanxin watched her flustered movements, fearing she might trip and fall.

“Don’t rush. Slow down.”

Xing’er halted at the table, eyebrows drooping in regret. She did not dare sit, obediently admitting guilt: “I overslept again. Madam, I’m sorry. Punish me, please.”

Limián shot her a sharp glance but faithfully ladled porridge into the empty bowl on the table.

Li Lanxin waved her off, signaling her to sit. “It’s nothing. You’re still young. Come, sit and eat.”

Xing’er giggled and climbed onto the table.

Li Lanxin whispered: “Xing’er, Limián and I will visit the mansion. Later, the servants from next door will come to work. You watch over them and don’t let anyone enter the inner rooms, okay?”

She distrusted the servants sent by the General’s mansion to enter her quarters. For years, she had cleaned by herself. If the neighboring servants got in, they would likely ransack her room every time.

She trusted Xing’er to keep watch. Though young, the girl was methodical. The servants’ sweet words and threats had no effect on her. If ordered not to allow entry, she would not. If anyone dared force their way in, she would boil hot water and oil to defend the door.

The servants next door knew her temper and dared not act rashly.

Xing’er nodded vigorously. “Okay, I will watch them.”

After breakfast, Li Lanxin and Limián left the courtyard.

They did not take a carriage because Qingluo Alley and the General’s loyal mansion were separated by only three courtyard walls.

When Xu Yu first looked for a residence, he wanted her far from the mansion, but filial piety prevailed. After much negotiation with his parents, both sides compromised and finally settled on this house.

Following the familiar narrow path, turning two more corners, the back gate of the General’s mansion was already open.

“Second Madam,” Xiuer, Madam Zhang’s personal maid, greeted them with a smile at the gate. “The Old Madam has been waiting for you. First Madam and Third Miss are here too, just waiting for you.”

Li Lanxin nodded and stepped over the threshold, the maids following behind.

Limián smiled and discreetly slipped a silver coin to Xiuer. “How is the Old Madam’s health? Our mistress has been worried. Also, I heard Third Miss is about to be betrothed. Is today about that...?”

Xiuer took the silver with a beaming smile but interrupted, “Oh, the Old Madam is quite strong. Today’s visit is about joyful news.”

Li Lanxin stopped and looked back at her. “Joyful news?”

But Xiuer did not say more. “You’ll know when you get there. I wouldn’t dare talk too much, lest the Old Madam scold me for breaking etiquette.”

A flicker of light sparked in Li Lanxin’s eyes as she turned and continued toward Madam Zhang’s courtyard.