As the copper clock ticked to three in the morning, Jiang Shu dug her fingertips into the lotus pattern on the armrest of the rosewood chair. The candlelight cast a ghostly shadow on the pearl hairpin by her temples, much like the white banner that fluttered before Yuan's coffin that day.
"Mother, look!" Jiang Songyi shook out the copied pulse record, "The medicine that Miss Yuan took to maintain her pregnancy had half a penny of safflower added to each dose." On the yellowed rice paper, the cinnabar seal with the words "Exclusively for the Mei Mansion" hurt people's eyes.
Jiang Qinghe's half-finished embroidery of "Hundreds of Sons and Thousands of Grandchildren" was suddenly torn apart, the golden thread snaking across the blue bricks like blood. She thought of the sour plums Mrs. Mei had sent her last month, and the suspicious brown stain at the bottom of the porcelain jar. "My aunt said the Mei family's kitchen was unclean, and it turned out to be true."
"It's not just dirty!" Jiang Shu threw the lotus teacup, "That pick has a vicious heart and wants to eat people!" The broken porcelain splashed on Jiang Songyi's skirt, and the pomegranate red material was stained with dark spots, just like the blood that spread under Yuan's body in the previous life.
Jiang Songyi stroked the back of her aunt's trembling hand. "If Yuan Tong could find something strange, our Jiang family might be able to find it too." She pulled out a business card from her sleeve, and the words "Lin, Junior Secretary of the Dali Temple" on the gold-dusted paper shook. "Lord Lin owes father a favor."
The five-watch gong sounded twice, and a servant slipped out from the corner gate of the Yuan residence. As the Jiang clan's secret guards climbed over the ridge, they saw Madam Mei's maid pouring medicine residue into the well. Fragments of conversation drifted through the morning mist: "Miss Wu vomited again yesterday. Madam asked for more."
"Increase the dosage?" Jiang Songyi crushed the sour plum pit in his palm, "No wonder Wu Zihan couldn't keep the baby." "That stupid woman in the previous life was just like that. She even dared to drink a few more sips of abortion pills just to win favor."
Jiang Shu suddenly grabbed her daughter's wrist and said, "Qing He's engagement letter is still at the Mei family!" The gilded bracelet shone coldly in the morning light. "Quick, prepare a car and go to Huguo Temple! Tell them I want to light a perpetual lantern for Qing He!"
The sound of the carriage rolling over the bluestone pavement startled the crows from the trees. Jiang Songyi lifted the curtain and looked back. Yuan Tong was squatting in front of a candy painting stall on the street corner, his round face still stained with sugar. Who could have imagined that this greedy little fat boy would one day wield a blood-drenched sword and force Madam Mei to sign?
The incense from the Huguo Temple was so thick it blinded everyone. Jiang Shu knelt on the mat and kowtowed deeply. In the secret compartment behind the shrine, the marriage certificate between the Jingkang Marquis's Mansion and the Yuan family was turning to ash. Jiang Songyi watched the curling smoke and suddenly remembered that when Mei Weixing came to propose, he had worn the lotus sachet embroidered by Wu Zihan around his waist.
"What fortune did you ask for, donor?" the old monk handed over the bamboo tube.
Jiang Shu's veins bulged as she clutched the fortune stick—a bad one, the hexagram reading "Civet Cat Steals Fortune." Jiang Songyi suddenly chuckled and tossed the stick into the incense burner. "Master, please interpret another one, and then I'll ask..." She stared at the Mei Mansion's housekeeper, who had hurried over. "When will the jackal reveal its true form?"
As the sun crept over the eaves, Lin Shaoqing's attendants, carrying a box, knocked on the gate of the Jiang Mansion. The account book at the top of the page read "Mei Mansion Pharmacy Income and Out." The wet ink noted the amount of musk Wu Zihan took each month—exactly three times the amount Yuan had taken on the day of her miscarriage.
Jiang Qinghe finished the last stitch of her quilt, and with a snap of her golden scissors, she severed the thread. The smiling face of the chubby child on the brocade gradually twisted into a paper figurine standing before Yuan's coffin. She suddenly threw the embroidery booth out the window: "Mother, cancel the engagement."
Amid the chirping of cicadas, Jiang Shu caressed her daughter's pale face. At this time in her previous life, Qing He was drinking a bowl of safflower-laced abortion-preserving medicine at the Mei Mansion, while she, as a mother, was smiling as she sewed tiger-head shoes for her unborn grandson.
…
Outside the window, cicadas chirped noisily. Jiang Shu's hand, clutching the Mei family's betrothal gift list, trembled slightly. She looked at her second daughter, seated on an embroidered stool. The halo of light filtering through the crimson screen shrouded Jiang Qinghe's moon-white skirt, making her look like the Jade Guanyin in a temple, her gaze cast downward.
"He'er." Jiang Shu crumpled the list into a ball. "Can mother find a wealthy family for you?"
Jiang Qinghe was serving tea. Her wrists were steady as a rock when she heard this. Lotus patterns formed on the tea foam in the celadon cup. Her voice was lighter than the tea smoke: "The Mei family is not at fault."
"Can."
"Aunt!" Jiang Songyi came in after lifting the curtain, her temples still stained with willow catkins from outside, "Is my second cousin's Biluochun ready?" She deliberately knocked over the fruit plate on the table, and the candied fruit rolled to the edge of Jiang Shu's skirt - this was the secret signal agreed upon by the aunt and niece.
Jiang Shu understood and covered her red eyes with a handkerchief: "The painting 'Spring Mountain' by the Mei family."
"Tear it up." Jiang Songyi brushed off the icing on her fingertips. "The painting is inscribed with 'To Miss Hongyu', and the ink is very fresh." She glanced at the plum-patterned sachet worn on Jiang Qinghe's waist. The twin lotus flowers embroidered with gold thread were missing a petal.
Jiang Qinghe finally looked up. She remembered that day when Mei Weixing handed her the sachet, there was ochre pigment between her fingernails. It turned out that Hongyu wasn't the name of rouge, but Zhangtai Liu.
"Call off the engagement." she said suddenly.
The round fan in Jiang Shu's hand fell to the ground with a "clatter": "You just said."
"My daughter is Xin Songyi." Jiang Qinghe poured cold tea into the flowerpot. The dead orchid roots were still wrapped with the red silk from last year's broken engagement. "What excuse did my elder sister use to break off the engagement?"
Jiang Songyi was stuffing osmanthus cake into her mouth when she choked and her face turned red. In her previous life, her cousin broke off the engagement because she caught her fiancé having an affair with a maid, but in this life...
"They say I have a tough life." Jiang Qinghe stroked the Buddhist beads on his wrist. "Didn't Master Yuantong read my fortune the other day?"
Jiang Shu was so anxious that she tore off her necklace: "Nonsense! How can a girl be herself?"
"Aunt." Jiang Songyi suddenly pressed the back of her hand. "The Yuan family in the west of the city is looking for a son-in-law recently." She dipped her fingertips in tea and wrote the word "heir" on the table. "Mei Weixing is the beloved wife of Marquis Jingkang."
Jiang Shu's pupils suddenly constricted. She finally remembered the tragedy in her previous life—the eldest daughter of the Yuan family had died suddenly six months after marrying into the Mei family. When the coffin was carried out, her wrists and ankles were covered in bruises.
"We can't retreat!" She stood up suddenly, "We have to let the Mei family retreat on their own!"
Jiang Qinghe looked at her mother in surprise at her sudden change of heart. Jiang Shu pulled out a yellowed deed from the bottom of her dressing table. "The Mei family pawnshop received a batch of government silver last year."
Jiang Songyi's eyes suddenly lit up. In his previous life, the Mei family's downfall was due to the illegal minting of coins. He had never expected that evidence would be revealed so early.
"Songyi, go check the pawnshop." Jiang Shu put the deed into her hand. "He'er, come with me to Daxiangguo Temple to burn incense tomorrow."
“Prayer?”
"Mrs. Mei believes in gods and Buddhas the most." Jiang Shu sneered, "If she knew that her future daughter-in-law was born under the Seven Killings."
As dusk deepened, Jiang Songyi crouched at the base of the Yuan family's wall. Little chubby boy Yuan Tong was being chased and beaten by his eldest sister. A hydrangea fell at her feet, and half a silver ingot engraved with the word "plum" fell out of it.
"Sister, spare my life!" Yuan Tong rushed over, holding his head. "This is what Mei Weixing lost to me."
Jiang Songyi picked up the silver ingot and examined it against the setting sun. She was surprised to find that a corner of the official seal inside was missing. Suddenly, she burst out laughing, startling the sparrows in the treetops and sending them flying.
Three days later, amidst the ringing of the bells at Daxiangguo Temple, the bamboo stick holder in Madam Mei's hand suddenly exploded. The bamboo sticks scattered to the ground, with the one on top bearing the inscription "White Tiger at the Gate."
"Donor." The abbot clasped his hands together, "This sign indicates unrest in the family. Be careful of your illegitimate son."
Madam Mei stumbled back, knocking over the eternal lamp on the altar. As the flames shot up Jiang Qinghe's skirt, Mei Weixing suddenly rushed in from outside the hall—heading straight for the gilded Bodhisattva statue.
"My painting!" He put out the flames, leaving most of the scroll in his arms burnt. Jiang Qinghe caught a glimpse of the remaining corner, which was the inscription "Hongyu".
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