The teacup slammed heavily on the table. Jiang Shu's biggest pain was this: the young master of the Zhang family was clearly a homosexual, yet he falsely accused her daughter, Hao Qingmo, of having an affair with a guard. Now the rumor was spreading throughout the capital, and the girls of the Duke of Huguo's mansion were likely to be sent to a nunnery.
"She can't compare to the old lady's great blessings." Jiang Shu's red nail polish traced Cui's pale face. "Although her own flesh and blood died young, she raised a house full of filial sons and grandchildren." She deliberately glanced at the Crown Prince's wife, Wang, who was bowing her head in the corner. "I heard that the young master got a peach wood sword during his one-year-old celebration the other day?"
The hall was instantly silent. Chen Ruyi's Buddhist beads snapped, their sandalwood beads tumbling to the floor. On that snowy night twelve years ago, she'd knelt before the Imperial Medical Office, clutching her feverish young son, only to receive a white banner from the abbot. After that, the Duke of Dingguo's mansion had half the servants executed with canings, and even the parrots under the eaves had been replaced three times.
Cui suddenly began to cough violently. Her youngest son had grabbed his rouge box during his one-year-old celebration, and Chen Ruyi still holds this against her. Listening to the two ladies' heated exchange, she felt a bitter taste in her throat.
"Madam Jiang!" Chen Ruyi stood up suddenly, the nine-tree phoenix hairpins and beads clashing together to create a golden and jade-like sound. "If you're here today just to show off your eloquence..."
"Mother, please calm down." The prince of Dingguo hurried across the threshold, his dark formal attire stained with snow seeds. He saluted Chen Ruyi without looking away. "The Ministry of Revenue has just delivered the autumn tax ledgers. Please review them, mother." A mountain of ledgers lay on a golden tray, and on top lay the key to the treasury.
Jiang Shu's pupils shrank slightly. She had heard that Chen Ruyi had controlled the Duke of Dingguo's mansion for twenty years, but she hadn't expected that even the Crown Prince, after inheriting the title, still needed to visit him morning and night. She watched Chen Ruyi's withered fingers brushing across the account books, and suddenly remembered the saying of "beautiful beauty, withered bones" that had spread throughout the capital when the old Duke of Dingguo died suddenly.
"I'm sorry to have embarrassed you, Madam Jiang." Chen Ruyi sat down leisurely and changed her Buddhist beads to ones made of Hetian jade. "My children are so filial that they have made me lazy." She took the ginseng soup handed to her by Cui, and the oriental pearls on the spoon handle were dazzling.
Suddenly, the sound of a young monk chanting sutras could be heard outside the window. Jiang Shu then noticed the golden statue of the Buddha in the hall, and the incense smoke curling from the incense table. The Buddhist hall had been converted into a reception area. A chill suddenly ran down her spine—this old woman was actually engaging in a magic battle in front of her son's memorial tablet.
"The old lady has a devout heart in worshipping Buddha." Jiang Shu stood up and smoothed the folds of her skirt. "I just hope that the Bodhisattva will open his eyes and not let certain people pollute the pure land of Buddhism." She deliberately threw the handkerchief on the cushion. The corner of the handkerchief was embroidered with the Zhang family emblem.
Chen Ruyi stared at the pomegranate-red figure with a handkerchief moving away, and suddenly grabbed the incense burner and threw it at Cui: "Idiot! Who allowed you to let her into the west wing?" The incense ash fell all over the newly cut brocade skirt, leaving holes in it.
Cui knelt on the ground, picking up her Buddhist beads, her tears falling into the scorching incense ash. The iron horses from the eaves clattered again, this time mixed with the fading sounds of wooden fish in the distance, like the sobbing of wronged souls.
A sudden gust of wind swept the dewdrops from the peony petals, and the white jade hairpin in Jiang Shu's hair gleamed coldly in the sunlight. Chen Ruyi's nail-dyed fingertips brushed against her gold-inlaid jade hair, and the jade bracelet on her wrist jingled. "I heard Madam Jiang has been visiting the Charity Bureau a lot lately. Could she still be thinking about the child who was eaten by a stray dog?"
The round fan in Jiang Qingmo's hand snapped. She remembered wandering into her mother's Buddhist temple at the age of five and seeing the palm-sized golden statue of a baby on the altar. Later, her nanny explained that it was the eternal lamp her mother had lit for her younger brother, who had died young.
"You're looking for death!" Jiang Shu's wide sleeves flipped the celadon fruit bowl, sending lychees tumbling across the golden brick floor. She lunged at Chen Ruyi so hastily that her waist tangled in the brocade of the table, revealing the trembling tips of her embroidered shoes beneath her skirt.
Chen Ruyi was already prepared, her jewel-studded armor tightly gripping Jiang Shu's wrist. "What's the rush? Everyone in Yanjing City knows about you chasing wild dogs with an eight-month-old belly." She suddenly lowered her voice, "I heard that the mad dog went crazy after eating drugged meat..."
The teacup in Jiang Songyi's hands clanged to the ground. She finally understood why her aunt's Buddhist temple always burned thick incense—the ash mingled with the unmistakable smell of a burnt baby's swaddling clothes.
"Let my mother go!" Jiang Qingmo pulled out his golden hairpin and was about to stab her, but was stopped by Chen Ruyi's daughter-in-law. The woman wore a nine-tailed phoenix hairpin bestowed by the emperor in her bun, the very same style that had been taken back when Jiang Shu divorced her last year.
Jiang Shu suddenly chuckled, and the coral bracelet on her wrist snapped. "Widow Chen has a good memory. She even remembers the dog food we had in our house twenty years ago." She grabbed Chen Ruyi's collar with her backhand, and the fabric embroidered with lotus flowers ripped apart. "Unlike some people who, when they were widowed by the old Duke Dingguo, didn't even dare to approach their husband's body for seven days!"
The noble ladies watching gasped. When the old Duke Dingguo died suddenly, Chen Ruyi, fearing the stench of his corpse, hid in the Buddhist temple, feigning illness and refusing to leave. This incident had long become a running joke among the aristocratic families.
"You!" Chen Ruyi's gold-studded armor scratched the back of Jiang Shu's hand, and blood splattered on the peony stamens. "It's better than you using your dowry to fill the bottomless pit of the Duke of Huguo's Mansion!" She tossed out a stack of yellowed account books from her sleeve. "Look at how many beauties your good husband has kept outside with your money!"
Jiang Songyi caught sight of the words "Zuiyuelou" on the account book and suddenly remembered the plot of the original novel. It was these very books that the Fourth Prince used as evidence to bring down the Duke of Huguo's residence three months later. She instinctively tried to grab them, but Jiang Qinghe held her tightly.
Jiang Shu's bloodstained fingertips traced the familiar handwriting on the account book. It was the small calligraphy with hairpin flowers that she had taught Hao Ren to write, but now it had become a knife piercing her heart. Her memory suddenly flashed back to their wedding night, when Hao Ren held her hand and said, "Ashu's handwriting is more beautiful than a peony."
“Bang!”
A slap echoed through the garden. Jiang Shu's left palm, still stained with peony pollen, left a bright red imprint on Chen Ruyi's face. "Even if this wife is divorced, she is still a first-rank imperial concubine bestowed by the emperor himself! It's not your turn to lecture me, a widow who earned her phoenix crown by killing her husband!"
Chen Ruyi's Nine-Di Crown was askew, revealing an old scar on her forehead. It was the result of the drunken Duke Ding hitting her with his inkstone, a scar usually carefully concealed with a flower ornament. Suddenly, she tugged at Jiang Shu's belt like a madman: "How can you be so good? Do you really think Hao Ren is innocent? He is clearly..."
"Old Madam Chen, be careful with your words!"
Princess Linchuan emerged from behind the rockery. The gold-embroidered peonies on her phoenix robe dazzled in the sunlight. She clutched a mutton-fat jade pendant, a personal belonging of the old Duke Dingguo. "I had no idea that the Duke Dingguo's family would even pawn a jade pendant bestowed by the late Emperor."
Chen Ruyi stumbled back, crushing the lychees on the ground. She recognized the jade pendant as the one she had secretly sent to the pawnshop last year when she was arranging an official position for her eldest grandson. How could a pawned item, which was supposed to be circulated in Jiangnan, end up here?
A sudden downpour dampened the ink on the account book. Jiang Shu stared at the blurred "eight thousand taels of silver" and burst into laughter. As she laughed, a sweet, fishy taste rose in her throat—it turned out that her years of deep affection and loyalty were nothing more than the most crude drama in the storybook.
Jiang Songyi supported her aunt, who was about to collapse, and felt a hard object in her sleeve. It was half a jade pendant engraved with the character "仁" (benevolence). The edges were rounded, as if they had been rubbed countless times. She suddenly understood why her aunt had insisted on getting a divorce and still kept the account books of the Duke of Huguo's mansion.
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