Chapter 125: Prince Rui the Neighbor

Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan returned to the capital with fanfare. Shen Miao had shone before the whole court at tribute—while gossip flew, eyes also turned to the old Great General's mansion.
The Great General was gone. The old gate plaque had been taken down and replaced with "Shen Residence." When Shen Xin was demoted and exiled, the Shen family had not helped in crisis—they had pressed to divide the household and cut ties at the crucial moment. Now Shen Xin was favored again by Wenhui—whatever the emperor's true aim, outsiders watched with schadenfreude; inside the Shen house, they swallowed bitter fruit.
In Glory Hall, Old Madam Shen sat on the main couch. The fur was wolf skin Shen Xin had brought from the northwest hunt while he still served—years had worn the edges smooth. Each year he returned he brought beast pelts Ding could not buy. No more gifts—she used old stock.
Glory Hall was no longer as fine as before; fewer ornaments on the screens. When Shen Xin lived well on imperial rewards, the whole mansion prospered. Without his support, Chen Ruoqiu ran accounts—and purse grew tight.
"Third branch grows more outrageous every day." Old Madam Shen sipped ginseng tea, face wrinkling. "Winter near—yesterday I asked her to send a tailor for a fur cloak—push and delay. Running the house—silver all into her pocket."
Behind her a maid rubbed her shoulders, head down, silent. Old Madam Shen's temper grew erratic since a year ago when Shen Yuanbai died of smallpox—she often raged.
Shen Yuanbai's death was pain the Shen house could not speak aloud. A year ago smallpox had appeared in Ding in scattered cases—controlled at last, epidemic contained—yet some died. Shen Yuanbai was among them.
Second branch: Shen Gui once had two sons. Shen Yuan was executed. Shen Yuanbai remained—then died. Shen Gui went half mad. Ren Wanyun hanged herself with her belt in the courtyard after Yuanbai's death. After her death Shen Gui madly took concubines—no child in a year and a half. Old Madam Shen sensed wrong, called a doctor—Shen Gui had taken infertility drug—root of succession ruined—no heirs ever.
Old Madam Shen fainted hearing it. Shen Gui went blank. Investigation pointed to dead Ren Wanyun—she had drugged him to secure Yuanbai as sole heir—yet fate had other plans. With Ren Wanyun dead, Shen Gui could not punish her. Second branch's male line was only Shen Dongling. Concubine Wan rose—only woman credited with bearing for Shen Gui.
Knowing he would have no posterity, Shen Gui lost heart for office—what use mountains of gold without heir? He drowned in pleasure daily.
Second branch could bear no more sons—Old Madam Shen turned to third branch Shen Wan. Shen Wan had not been drugged—but Chen Ruoqiu held his heart tight. Even the two concubines the old lady had forced on him years ago were ornaments in third branch.
"Housekeeping is a wreck—and jealous!" Old Madam Shen said. "Raised as a great house's daughter—where did she learn petty ways? No thought for heirs—only fox tricks. Third branch has no legitimate son—what is she plotting!"
Madam Zhang smiled. "Why anger, Old Madam? Third Master doesn't yet know other girls' worth. He's still handsome. In a few days the new Yangzhou girls arrive—Old Madam send two to him—young as flowers—he'll learn their charm."
Old Madam Shen had bought Yangzhou "thin horses." For Shen Wan, beauty alone might not bind him. Chen Ruoqiu had won him with poetry and painting—those girls were trained from childhood in zither, chess, calligraphy, painting—top looks—what man did not love? Old Madam Shen did not believe Shen Wan, being a man, could refuse fresh taste. Chen Ruoqiu was good—but aging.
"Every one angers me." Old Madam Shen snapped. "Even Yue girl learned pride from her mother—so many rich matches offered—none she likes—does she dream of marrying a prince?"
Madam Zhang frowned—Old Madam's careless tongue unchanged. She smiled. "Second Miss is fair—Third Master likely plans to keep her for a fine house."
"Keep too long becomes hate." Old Madam Shen snorted. "We'll see what match Third branch finds for Yue girl."
In Autumn Water Court, Chen Ruoqiu pressed her temples.
Her maid Shiqing said: "Madam—I inquired at Glory Hall—Old Madam truly bought Yangzhou girls for Third Master—they arrive in days. Madam—she's slapping your face!"
Chen Ruoqiu closed her eyes and swept every book from the table—crash—maids held breath.
Before Shen Wan she still played gentle and thoughtful—but servants felt third madam Chen growing fiercer these two years. Running public accounts, balancing silver between branches, Old Madam loved luxury—Chen had poured her own coin in. Once she lived above worldly dust—now chores tangled every day.
Most of all—no child.
She said coldly: "That old hag—buying girls for her son—shameless beyond words!"
If Shen Wan heard, his jaw would drop. The woman of gentle rain voice now spoke foul.
Huayi said: "Madam is too soft. At this rate Old Madam will stuff his room with women."
Chen Ruoqiu breathed, looked at Shiqing and Huayi—promoted personal maids, eighteen or nineteen, ripe as honey. Such beauty… she curved her lips. "Old Madam is muddled. If she must add women to our yard—why seek dirty outsiders of unknown origin—ruin the house name? Better pick clean, obedient ones nearby—trustworthy, comfortable. You two are not bad either."
Words gentle—eyes sharp. Both maids dropped kneeling. "We dare not—we only serve Madam wholeheartedly—no other thought."
Chen Ruoqiu looked down. They trembled. At last: "Rise. If you refuse, I never force."
"Thank you, Madam." They rose, shaking inside, relieved. Chen looked gentle and kind—but as personal maids they had seen her methods. Pretty maids had climbed toward Shen Wan—he showed little interest but did not refuse harshly. Chen found excuses to dispose of them—ruined themselves and families. Shiqing and Huayi knew—jealous, ruthless. Tie to Shen Wan meant death without bone left.
Chen Ruoqiu sighed. "Blame my failure—no son for Master. If I had a son, we would not be here."
They dared not answer—children were her wound. Chen murmured: "Shen house fallen—among young, not one son. Second branch had one—now extinct… I envy Luo Xueyan—children below, no parents above. Shen Xin treasures her—no concubine—jealous indeed."
Yesterday at tribute Shen Miao had shone. Shen Yue—looks and talent above Shen Miao—yet Shen decline meant no good match—let alone Prince Ding she yearned for.
Resentment rose—she had competed all her life—now trampled by a rough general's daughter she despised.
A servant entered. "Madam—someone at the gate seeks Old Madam—stopped by your man. Says… come to rely on Shen family."
Chen frowned—thought another distant relative begging. Jing clan gone—yet these people. Face cold: "If begging—two ingots and send away. House cannot feed idle mouths—no cats and dogs."
"Not that." The boy scratched his head. "Doesn't look like begging—says old general's comrade's daughter—family trouble—nowhere else to turn."
Old General Shen?
Chen thought, stood. "Receive her in side hall. I'll see her."
……
Shen Miao returned from Fengxian early. She locked herself in her room—thought unknown. Near evening Luo Tan returned with jewelry—gave Shen Miao some generously. "Little Cousin—we went to jewelers today—Ding shops are huge. Feng girl and I picked a little for you—don't know if you like—keep them—when you want to go out we'll go again."
Still hungry for more.
Shen Miao agreed. After Luo Tan left she looked at the half box—wondering pawn value.
Shen Xin's party returned soon after. They ate together. Court affairs seemed smooth—Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan in good spirits. Only Shen Miao seemed weary. Luo Ling noticed. "Cousin looks unwell—something wrong?"
Shen Qiu stopped eating. "Sister—what is it?"
She paused—everyone watching—smiled. "Nothing—just back from Xiaochun—not used to it yet. A few days will do."
Shen Qiu laughed. "What's not to get used to. When free I'll take you east to west, south to north—walk more and you'll settle."
"Take me too!" Luo Tan hurried. "I can protect Little Cousin."
"Nonsense." Luo Xueyan glared at Shen Xin for support. "If you drag your sisters round all Ding she'll collapse. And if trouble?"
Shen Xin chuckled. "Children happy is fine. Stinking boy—if you take the girls out—bring a squad of my men—anyone makes trouble—beat them dead—don't fear!"
Luo Xueyan twisted his arm.
The couple's play showed deep affection. Shen Xin fierce outside—home he obeyed Luo Xueyan. Shen Miao smiled watching—then cloud passed—she lowered head lest they see. Luo Ling, watching her, paused thoughtfully.
After supper and talk in the hall, all retired. Shen Miao to her yard—Luo Tan's before hers—skipped ahead. At Shen Miao's gate Luo Ling called her.
"Cousin—wait."
She turned. "Cousin Ling—what is it?"
He hesitated, drew from his sleeve something folded square. "Today with Cousin Qiu I saw a shop selling these—many buyers—I bought one. Hear Cousin has troubled dreams—this is scented for calm. If not disliked—please accept."
She paused—looked at the young man.
Luo Ling was handsome—less bold than Shen Qiu, less dazzling than Xie Jingxing, even less pretty-cute than Ji Yushu—yet warmth from the heart soothed. Among Luo youth he was finest—not only steady—he could carry a clan and was sincere.
In night she seemed to see his faint blush. "If Cousin dislikes…"
She took it lightly. "Cousin's kindness—how could I refuse. Thank you, Cousin."
Luo Ling smiled. "Glad you like it."
Gentle brows, caring tone—comfortable—ordinary girl might favor him. Shen Miao stepped back. "If nothing else—I return to my room."
Disappointment flashed—quickly hidden. "I won't delay Cousin." He left.
She watched his back a while. She was no green girl—years in palace without tenderness with Fu Xiuyi—yet she knew men and women. Luo Ling was good—to drag such a man into her life of schemes was too selfish. Luos had been kind—she could not repay with harm.
She entered her room. After washing Jingzhe and Guyu withdrew. She sat and opened Luo Ling's gift.
A handkerchief—double-sided embroidery—rarest in Ding now. He must have spent much silver. A white crane embroidered—fitting his calm nature—faint scent—soothing at first breath.
She studied long—the weave was Liuying's work—top craft in Ding—rare double stitch. Liuying lived well—the low mood from today's rain and that face in the crowd eased somewhat.
Tired—she removed outer robe, in inner only, sat on the bed to undress—and heard a soft laugh. "Wait."
Her hand stopped. Turning—rage she could not hide—she looked at the window intruder, word by word: "Xie. Jing. Xing."
He entered, closed the window, at ease as in his own backyard. No mask tonight—handsome face brazen in lamplight—bewitching—she wanted to drag him out and behead him.
"Under heaven only you may call my style name." He pulled a chair near her bed, smiled lightly. "The world's sole privilege."
Tall seated—still higher than her—giving no ground.
She eyed him coldly. "Prince Rui has leisure daily—knows the road from Yanqing Lane by heart."
"Simple." He propped his chin. "I bought every house from Yanqing Lane to here. The house next to yours—is mine too. Distant kin, close neighbors—so this prince pays a visit."
She drew cold breath. Yanqing Lane was near—but still a way. He bought all houses between—half the south city his yard? Next door too—money not spent like this—did he bring Liang's whole treasury? Spend so freely—did Yongle know?
Seeing his careless smile she burned again—shameless—who visits neighbors at midnight without card or invitation—Liang royalty so lawless?
"You look unhappy." He watched with interest. "Tell elder brother your trouble. Prince Rui can help—old acquaintance counts."
She rolled her eyes—less clear what he wanted. His words reminded her—Fengxian talk with Ji Yushu—she tested. "Xie Jingxing—what do you think of Fang Shi of Lin'an Marquis house?"
Fang Shi—mother of Xie Changwu and Xie Changchao—linked to Princess Yuqing's death—taboo for him—she named it.
He looked half-smiling. "Fishing?"
"Will you tell?"
"Why not." Lazy. "In my eyes—less than ants."
She watched. "Why not kill her for revenge?"
He narrowed eyes, stared, laughed—voice like peach wine buried in spring dug in winter—spring-warm, winter-clear. "Shen Miao—you fear Shen Xin becomes a second Xie Ding?"
She lowered eyes. "Yes." Pause. "In your place I'd revenge by any means—kill Fang Shi, kill her sons—that is revenge—not living in vain."
She spoke coldly—he did not startle—only laughed once, as at naivety. "Not killing Fang Shi—contempt—and trouble. Xie Ding and Princess Yuqing have no tie to me—why revenge?"
She paused.
Not father and son—she had heard—not surprised—but Princess Yuqing too unrelated? Whose blood ran in him—how was he legitimate heir?
Her heart stirred. "Then Princess Yuqing's son…"
"Dead." Flat. "Dead at birth."
Dead at birth—no rumor after—he had been swapped in—dragon for phoenix—undetected. Perhaps the princess never knew.
"If Xie Ding's son lived—dead before three." Careless. "Because of me Fang Shi dares not strike. Because…" wicked smile, "those sent simply vanish."
She understood—Fang Shi had forced the princess to ruin, ambitious—yet lived quiet, let him grow—because agents vanished—Fang Shi found it uncanny and retreated. With Prince Rui's men, a house woman was nothing.
Dark corners cleared—she forgot earlier vexation. He looked down. "Don't fear—Shen Xin is not Xie Ding."
She said: "And I am not you."
He paused. She went on: "You disdain—no need. I differ—if someone shook my house like Fang Shi, I'd make her eat her own fruit. If malice like hers—I tear her inside out, drag her to the paupers' pit for dogs." Head bowed—other tides surged in her eyes.
Weight on her head—his hand. "Tell me when such people appear. Distant kin, close neighbors—I kill for you—no loose ends."
She shook off his hand. He smiled. Casual words—joke tone—yet eyes seemed serious.
For him to kill—Fang Shi's level—was easy.
She said: "Killing—I can do myself."
"Self at the last move—not good chess." he said. "If you feel debt—give me something as fee."
She mocked: "Prince Rui is gold and jade—I cannot afford your hire."
He smiled. "Twenty percent off for you." He stood, walked to the table—Luo Ling's handkerchief square there—lifted to his nose, raised brow. "Scent is poor—but a dog of my house sleeps badly lately—will do." Before she spoke he pocketed it. "This is the fee."