Chapter 99: Feminine Wiles

The Shen banquet scandal never spread among common folk—or so they said. Among great clans, threads connected everywhere; one madam's joke to another—in private it had long circled the capital. Old Madam Shen's clever words had cornered herself. Refuse her own pledge—bare slap in the face. Obey—lose her finest grandson—hard to swallow.
Because of it, first branch and Old Madam were thoroughly broken. Before, only second and third branches had grown distant; Old Madam's subtle favor at the banquet stuck in Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan's throats—they were not swallowers of insult—arms crossed, they watched the play.
Yuan and Chuchu woke—Chuchu wept again, said Yuan dragged her in. Yuan raged—no memory, woke beside Chuchu—perhaps she was still intact.
Whether Chuchu was intact did not matter. Before so many great ladies—that fragrant scene—her life was finished.
Perhaps shocked, perhaps for other reasons—the Jing siblings dropped gentle meekness, pressed hard, demanded Yuan answer. Old Madam had said—if Qiu, great-house eldest daughter-in-law; now Yuan—naturally Chuchu should be second-branch mistress.
Old Madam's abacus was fine—how allow this? Yuan was her brightest grandson—marry a humble girl? Excuses at once. Guansheng looked refined, bone-deep clever—without word threatened court, sent letter to Suzhou—kin furious at Old Madam's two-faced ways, marched on Dingjing to settle scores—prepared to wear the Shen house down.
The alliance shattered overnight. Old Madam cursed the Jing pair ingrate wolves daily; they mocked her publicly—respect your elders—the mansion reeked. Yuan was furious too—but scandal too large—could not simply kill Chuchu—so many ladies watching—if Chuchu died, suspicion would fall on him. Jing kin were no soft touches either.
However loud outside, West Court shut its gate—harmony within. Qiu had not been drunk that day—Shen Miao told him to feign it; why Yuan and Chuchu ended tangled—Qiu did not know. Shen Miao would not tell him—forbade telling Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan—yet Qiu guessed something; returning, he would not step into Rongjing Hall.
Indoors Shen Miao sat writing recipes for the kitchen. Chuchu could not fawn on first branch now—no need to watch the practice yard daily. Shen Xin and the soldiers still craved Shen Miao's pastries and soup—she would not cook herself—wrote recipes for the kitchen. Daily praise—the soldiers almost revered her more than Qiu.
Luo Xueyan asked: "Jiaojiao—when did you learn so many recipes? Interest in cooking?"
Shen Miao answered vaguely. She was no gentle woman content to wash hands and make soup—last life to please many she had humbled herself before palace chefs. However well she cooked, those pleased never moved. Now Shen Miao shook her head—pleasing people differs from pleasing beasts; some know gratitude, some repay kindness with betrayal.
Bailu took Shen Miao's papers to dry, headed to the small kitchen. West Court no longer ate with East—opened its own kitchen—clear distrust of East Court.
"Heard Cousin boy quarreled with Old Madam again today." Jingzhe tidied ink while speaking. "Jing kin are on the road—Old Madam can't stall—getting anxious?"
"All that needed saying—said." Shen Miao sipped tea. "Cousin is clever—won't be cheated for nothing."
"Cousin boy is ruthless too." Gu Yu said. "Daily threatening court—knowing Second Young Master just returned—report and his path is ruined. This time Second Young Master must marry Cousin Miss—thanks to Old Madam's strict obedience to Grandfather's teaching." Tail of her voice floated up—joy barely suppressed.
Old Madam's ways turned stomachs—stone lifted, dropped on own foot—who would not rejoice?
"But—" Jingzhe asked, "what good for Cousin Miss scheming to marry Second Young Master? Old Madam turned on her—Second Young Master dislikes her—married in, no love. Isn't she suffering?"
Shen Miao smiled faintly. "Chuchu marries not a man but silver. Likes, dislikes, affection—what difference?" Last life Chuchu married Qiu—Qiu treated her well—yet she destroyed him. For Chuchu—climb—who mattered little.
"Speaking of which," Gu Yu curled her lip, "Cousin Miss schemed against Young Master—yet marries in fine—unpleasant. All this because of her—why no punishment for the wicked?"
Shen Miao opened the window. "You think this is over?"
Gu Yu's eyes lit. "Miss still has a move?" With Shen Miao long enough—methods familiar—no surprise. Once she'd have been shocked at cold cruelty—event after event—no fondness for other branches—sympathy and pity flown away.
"Making them swallow bitter fruit is only the start," Shen Miao said. "Chuchu schemed against Elder Brother first—did she think she'd escape?"
Jingzhe and Gu Yu watched bright-eyed. Shen Miao waved. "Go settle silver for Fu'er."
Old Madam busy with Chuchu and Guansheng—no leisure to learn why the banquet swap happened. Fu'er would marry the steward's one-eyed son anyway—more silver—help her flee the Shen house.
Gu Yu took the silver, smiled. "Understood—Cousin Miss's maid too?"
Shen Miao nodded, satisfied. "Correct."
The sharpest bite—from the dog at your side. Like last life's Xiao Li.
She had lost on that once—the lesson could serve on others.
……
Five days later—Yuan and Chuchu's betrothal news spread through Dingjing.
Yuan—finest young master after Qiu—years abroad, just returned to office—bright future awaited. Capital had girls of family and face—a helpful wife was not hard to find.
Yet he chose—a plain girl from Suzhou. Even Old Madam's kin—no proper mistress would accept such empty purse for high gate daughter-in-law.
Strange deeds hide demons—capital gossip knew all. Yuan married Jing girl because drunk he slept with her. Jing kin were fierce—court or marry—better humble bride than censor memorial and lost cap. Yuan cornered—bad choice.
Joke among the great—days on end—Shen Gui faced colleagues' mocking eyes at court—Yuan worse.
Their names damaged—Chuchu unaffected. She sat indoors, bored, tasting pastries.
After breaking with Old Madam—Chuchu's meek gentleness vanished—true nature exposed. She gripped Yuan's weakness—ate and used Shen goods—life comfortable.
Beside her, tidying—her personal maid Taoyuan. Chuchu trusted no Shen servant—everything to Taoyuan alone. Taoyuan said: "Master and Mistress arrive soon—your wedding will be grand—back in Suzhou, glory."
Chuchu smiled. "Worth my trouble."
"But—" Taoyuan worried, "Second Young Master and Old Madam treat Miss so badly—after marriage, if they bully Miss?"
"Fear what?" Chuchu opened rouge, studied it. "I checked. Second Cousin dead—Second Aunt mad—cannot run the house. Second branch has only a concubine—a concubine cannot meddle in legitimate son's inner rooms. Cousin isn't home daily. Alone in second branch—I do as I please—freer than great branch. Better, really."
"Still," Taoyuan shook head, "if Second Young Master takes concubines to spite Miss—"
"That's on you." Chuchu looked at Taoyuan, condescending. "Years at my side—I see loyalty, pretty face—if that day comes—I let Second Cousin take you—you hold him for me—reward for loyalty." Satisfied smile. "Not every maid gets fortune to become a great house's concubine."
Taoyuan bowed head. "This maid… obeys Miss."
Chuchu closed rouge—eyes on a bracelet on the dressing table—picked it up, dazed. Taoyuan wondered. "Isn't that… Sir Sun's gift to Miss?"
"Sir Sun…" Chuchu murmured, distant.
"Sir Sun treats Miss so well," Taoyuan smiled, "hearing betrothal news—how heartbroken."
"Nonsense!" Chuchu snapped. Taoyuan muttered: "Not wrong. Sir Sun and Miss met few times—instant bond—gifts with care—heart on heart. If not Second Young Master—Sir Sun would marry Miss!"
Chuchu paused—flush rose—shook head. "Minister's great house—how marry plain girl like me?"
"But Sir Sun truly loves Miss." Taoyuan reckless—Chuchu not angry—almost pleased. Taoyuan continued: "If Sir Sun were Jing son-in-law—better than Second Young Master—treasures Miss—marry him, he'd hold you in his palm."
"Enough." Chuchu cut her—yet sentimental. "I chose Shen house—Sun Cainan means nothing now."
Yuan and Chuchu were cold—enemies after the affair. Contrast sharpened—Sun Cainan's good points—handsome, generous, tender—some feeling, false to deny. What one cannot have lingers—Taoyuan's words like ants on Chuchu's heart—ticklish itch.
"Miss—" Taoyuan hesitated, "meet Sir Sun once. He knows betrothal—not the inside—might misunderstand you. Explain—he'll pity your plight. Life rarely gives such a man—Miss hurts him. Sir Sun said he'd send that dragonfly gem hairpin."
Chuchu's eyes moved. Sun Cainan's charm—endless gifts. For Chuchu—enough. Marry Yuan—keep Sun Cainan longing—vanity fed full.
After long thought Chuchu decided. "You have a point—I should explain."
"But betrothed to Second Young Master—mustn't be seen." Taoyuan said. "Leave it to this maid—I'll find a secluded place—Miss and Sir Sun speak clear—not fail him."
Chuchu nodded.
……
Yuan strode into the courtyard—veins jumping on his brow.
Daily under strange eyes. Others saw he was calculated—drunk and slept with whose daughter—common in Dingjing—intent or accident—seen often. What they cared for—a promising talent—fallen to rear-court women's crude direct tricks?
Especially—this time tied to Shen house's rough legitimate daughter.
Fu Xiuyi did not scold—but these days his warmth thinned. Yuan was Fu Xiuyi's hidden confidant—one day he must stand in light. This stain stained Fu Xiuyi too—for one who pursued perfection, Yuan's slip was irritating.
Yuan suffocated— laughed at, must marry hollow Chuchu—silver-eyed vulgar small-house girl. Even if some official daughter favored him later—would not marry in to be mocked.
Deep breath—eyes locked on the approaching figure.
Shen Miao and two maids from the garden—these days West Court only—second branch chaos below—unmoved—refreshed.
Seeing Yuan she stopped. "Second Brother."
Yuan's fist tightened. Since Chuchu—he and Shen Miao had not met. Only Shen Miao could do this in Shen mansion—Old Madam's people ran the affair—he could not intervene. Now more urgent—appease difficult Jing kin.
Yet this wretched state—all from the girl before him—he wanted to choke her dead.
Yuan silent—Shen Miao laughed herself. "Second Brother and Cousin betrothed—I haven't congratulated—congratulations, Second Brother—beauty in your arms."
Mockery plain in every ear.
Yuan cold. "Thank you, Fifth Sister." Pause—look at her. "Fifth Sister—fine skill."
Shen Miao accepted with grace—that pleased face maddened most. Yuan laughed cold. "Fifth Sister—tall trees catch wind—learn early."
"I never thought myself taller than the forest—everyone knows I'm a rough block." Shen Miao pondered. "Second Brother was always excellent—wind will blow—not at me."
"Is that so?" Yuan asked slowly. "Fifth Sister thinks victory in hand? Think I marry Chuchu—so I lose?"
"How could I?" Shen Miao humble. "Second Brother is stubborn, resilient—setbacks mean nothing—small tricks beneath notice. Game far from over."
"Perhaps not as far as you think." Yuan smiled oddly. "Maybe ends soon." That smile on his face—dark and grim. Jingzhe and Gu Yu frowned. Shen Miao raised brow. "Second Brother scheming again?"
"Afraid?"
Shen Miao nodded. "I fear no schemes—only that no one schemes against me." Eyes clear as a child's—innocent smile. "If no one schemes—where's my chance?"
"Then pray for luck." Yuan cold. "See if you smile so happily that day." Stride away.
After he left Shen Miao's smile vanished—Jingzhe and Gu Yu startled. Gu Yu: "Miss—is Second Young Master wrong somehow?"
Shen Miao shook head. Yuan without certainty would not speak so. What made him think she had no chance to turn? Unease flickered—quickly pressed down. Watching Yuan's back she whispered: "Game far from over—but game ends soon too."
……
Baoxiang Tower, Dingjing—music and laughter, women's scent and mirth best aphrodisiac—passersby looked in—envy, empty purse—no throwing gold for beauty.
In a pavilion tea-room—tea cold overnight. The guard dozed—nearly overturned the pot—sleep fled—toe flick—the falling pot stopped on his boot—set back on table.
Mo Qing breathed relief—Baoxiang's humblest cup was fine craft—break it, pay silver. Shen Miao gave notes—for girls, not breakage.
Applause—on the couch the beauty watched coldly, bland praise. "Fine skill, fine martial art—truly eye-opening."
Mo Qing looked away from bare shoulder—sun outside—night survived—three easy days ahead—relief rose—about to leave.
His joy froze Liuying's face. Before he stood, she plopped opposite. "Young Master Mo."
Mo Qing looked at her blankly.
Liuying sized him up. Mo Qing had ordered Liuying over a month—every three days—silver prompt—yet did nothing—leaned at window all night. At first Liuying thought a game—years in pleasure trade, trained young—some patrons had quirks—Mo Qing perhaps one. Often enough—strange.
She tried teasing—if truly impotent, unmoved. Mo Qing flushed each time yet played calm—clearly virgin. But Mo Qing's skill was high—Liuying could not close—always men fawned on her—this pursuit was first—felt cheap—later stopped.
Yet each dawn his relieved joy angered her. Was she flood and beast—must he hide so?
"Young Master Mo finds Liuying filthy—take another girl." Liuying's face cold, petulant. "New girls daily—clean, virgins plenty—don't waste silver here—misleading people."
Mo Qing awkward—would not look at Liuying. Shen Miao's task was torment—he'd rather guard Shen gate than linger in brothels.
Mo Qing silent—Liuying angrier. "Don't come next time—Liuying can't carry your silver—pay without service—don't ruin my hard-built name!" Turned away.
Mo Qing rubbed nose—words useless—every few days this folly—even he felt fool—Baoxiang wasn't for tea—in Liuying's eyes, incomprehensible. Said nothing—left a silver ingot—out the door.
After Mo Qing left Liuying's maid swept, comforted: "Don't anger, Miss—Young Master Mo always pays." The ingot extra—no split with madam—Liuying angrier. "Who wants it!" Yet eyes followed the figure outside—Mo Qing awkwardly pushing girls at the door—walked down the street.
"Young Master Mo seems a good man." The little maid murmured.
"Who knows." Liuying would withdraw gaze—accidentally caught street corner—a man in shadow, head up—as if watching her.
She paused—too far for face—green robe, spare—even shadow had bearing.
"Hm." Liuying fanned lightly. "Have I grown prettier? One after another—satisfied just looking?"
"Miss is beautiful—many want to look." Sweet tongue.
Liuying curled lip. "All oddballs." Shut the window.
Down the street Mo Qing stopped—frowned at green robe in the corner.
He looked at Liuying's pavilion—but… Mo Qing's eyes moved—green man familiar—once escorting Shen Miao's carriage home, met him—Jingzhe said—Shen Miao's Guangwen Hall teacher.
Called Pei Lang.