Chapter 1: The Fourth Young Lady Is A Beauty

Spring in Hengtang always came with endless rain.

It was only the time of Jingzhe (the Awakening of Insects), yet muffled thunder was already rumbling within the thick clouds above. Occasionally, the heavens would clear their throat, and a deep roar would echo in all directions, rolling across the land in a sweeping surge.

Qingyuan sat in the passageway, decocting medicine. The liquid in the medicine pot bubbled and boiled, steam lifting the lid with a clatter. She turned her head to look outside—neat white lines of rain poured from the eaves, splashing onto the bluestone tiles below. The sound of the rain mingled with the bubbling of the medicine, forming a lively symphony of the human world.

A young maid stood nearby, flustered and anxious because Qingyuan had taken over her task. She pleaded repeatedly, “Fourth Miss, please go rest inside. When the medicine is ready, I’ll call you.”

Qingyuan fanned the flames with a palm-leaf fan, calm and unhurried, ignoring the maid’s words. Instead, she instructed Baoxian beside her to fetch the medicine bowl.

Baoxian acknowledged and turned to leave. She was tall, and once she moved, the smaller maid behind her was revealed. The girl crouched slightly, her eyes filled with a delicate admiration as she gazed at Qingyuan.

Qingyuan smiled and said, “I’m doing this out of filial piety. I trust everyone will understand. If anyone asks, I’ll explain myself—I won’t let you take the blame.”

The young maid fell silent, her face blank as she continued to stare. She was only about ten years old, too young to hide her admiration. From the very first day Qingyuan returned, she had thought the Fourth Miss was beautiful.

There are generally two kinds of beauty in women: one that flows and one that is still. The Fourth Miss belonged to the latter. She was like a piece of jade, polished to a flawless smoothness—just standing there, she carried her own natural patterns.

Even now, as she boiled medicine, the air still damp and chilly, the area around the stove was especially warm. The firelight from the hearth bathed her figure, casting a soft glow on her cheeks. A faint blush, serene and gentle, bloomed on her face, made even more delicate by the sheen of sweat—like satin.

It was a kind of beauty that never rushed, one that grew from the bones and could not be shaken off, even by hardship. Especially when she smiled—dimples appeared faintly at the corners of her lips, and her teeth were neat and white as snow.

The young maids often compared beauties among themselves—not themselves, of course, for those of low status had little to compare—but among the young ladies of similar rank.

With many sisters in the household, it was like a small world of its own. Each had her own territory, her own influence. Just like the servants, who belonged to different branches of the family. Except for those assigned to general chores by the stewardesses, most had their own affiliations. Serving someone meant knowing your mistress well and protecting her in every way—that was their duty.

Usually, the different branches didn’t give way to one another. But when it came to comparing the young ladies’ looks, few would speak against their conscience. The Xie family originally had three young ladies, with the Second Miss considered the most beautiful. But after the Fourth Miss arrived, the Second Miss became the second most beautiful.

“Seems like the Fourth Miss is just a little prettier,” said Nanny Jiang, who had the sharpest eyes and the most critical taste. Though called a nanny, she was only thirty-seven or thirty-eight—the youngest among them. She was neat and stylish, her hair slicked with oil and tied into a glossy bun so smooth that, as the southern saying went, even a fly would slip off it. A lover of beauty herself, her judgment was considered top-tier. For her to say such a thing meant the Fourth Miss was truly beautiful.

But heaven is always fair—where there is abundance, there is also lack. The Fourth Miss had not grown up in the household. In fact, she had been lost for fourteen years and only returned to the Xie family last month.

Without a solid foundation, she was inevitably looked down upon. In such a case, beauty became a burden—something external that could bring trouble. Someone even sneered, “The Fourth Miss and Concubine Jin look like they were carved from the same mold.”

A beautiful face usually meant one of two things: either she would bring misfortune to others, or she would suffer misfortune herself.

It was said that years ago, a major scandal rocked the household. The Fourth Miss’s birth mother, Concubine Jin, had poisoned and killed another favored concubine of the master. The master dealt with it behind closed doors. The crime was enough for a death sentence, but in the end, it was the Madam who pleaded for her life. Concubine Jin was expelled from the household instead.

Everyone in the household still remembered that scene. Concubine Jin was only allowed to take two sets of clothes; all her jewelry and valuables were confiscated. Two nannies dragged her to the main street and slammed the gate shut behind her. Her family had fallen into ruin, and she had nowhere to go. She clung to the gate, crying out her grievances in a shrill voice that sounded eerie in the dead of night.

Later, it was said that an elderly couple without children took her in. A few months later, she gave birth to a daughter—now the Fourth Miss. Concubine Jin’s fate was tragic; she died not long after. As for why the child wasn’t brought back to the Xie family, the masters had their reasons.

The Xie family was a prestigious household, with generations of high-ranking officials. At the time, the master was serving as the Military Commissioner of Jiannan Circuit, and his career was flourishing. He didn’t want any unnecessary trouble. As Concubine Lian put it, “Who knows if the child is even the master’s?” After all, the child was born outside the household. Even if the timing matched, if there was any mistake, the Xie family would become a laughingstock in all of Shengzhou. So they chose to keep things vague and left the matter unspoken.

Why bring her back now? Because the household had fallen into unrest.

The old master, who had been practicing Daoism and seeking immortality, suddenly passed away. Two months later, the eldest young master fell from a horse and lost consciousness for a full day and night. Not long after, the old madam fell ill—coughing, headaches, and no improvement for three months.

Some said they heard crying from the courtyard where Concubine Jin used to live. Most likely, her spirit was unwilling to rest and wanted the Fourth Miss to be acknowledged by her family.

The old madam believed in such things. She had the Fourth Miss’s birth chart read, and the fortune-teller said her destiny would greatly benefit the household’s prosperity. Only then did they send people to bring her back.

The elderly couple who raised her weren’t of high status, but they were good people. At first, they were reluctant to let her go. The Xie family had to pull many strings and nearly involved the authorities before the couple finally gave her up with great sorrow.

The young maids were fascinated by that dramatic past and eagerly asked, “Was it really Concubine Jin who poisoned that poor concubine?”

After a moment of silence, Nanny Shang came out of the kitchen, coughing loudly and spitting with force. She shouted fiercely at Shuangxi, “What time do you think it is? Still haven’t rinsed the rice? Want a whipping?”

Startled, everyone quickly scattered. The question about the past remained unanswered and was never brought up again. But as for the Fourth Miss, the young maids remained captivated by her beauty. Whenever they had the chance, they would sneak a few more glances.

The Fourth Miss had a gentle temperament. When she noticed, she would half-close her eyes and ask, “What are you looking at?”

The little maid stammered, then suddenly had a flash of inspiration. “The velvet flower in your hair, Miss—it’s so pretty.”

She responded with a soft “Oh,” and said, “I’ll teach you how to make one later.” She blinked, her eyes and brows full of warmth.

That single blink made even the roughest, clumsiest maid feel a flutter of joy. When Baoxian came over carrying the medicine bowl, the maid quickly offered, “Careful not to burn your hand, Miss—let me do it.”

Qingyuan declined. The medicine pot was heavy, and it was too much for a half-grown child to carry. She set down her fan, rolled up her sleeves, and poured a bowl herself. Steam rose in thick clouds along the rim of the bowl, the bitter fragrance enveloping her face.

On the tray beside it was a palm-sized enamel box. She lifted the lid to check, then closed it again. Turning, she headed toward the main house. In the south, houses were built in continuous rows, connected by elegant covered walkways. On rainy days, the bluestone bricks underfoot soaked up the water, turning a deep, dark hue.

Like all noble families, the Xie household placed great importance on hierarchy and seniority. The old madam’s residence was the grandest in the entire estate. But a house, being lifeless, reflected the fortune of its occupant. As the person was, so was the house.

The old madam’s quarters had green-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls, with a deep courtyard. Looking up from below, one felt as if they were at the bottom of a well. Coupled with the weather and the dark rosewood furniture, the room felt even deeper and darker. A musty, decaying scent twisted out from every corner, wrapping around people like a net.

The old madam’s maid, Yuejian, came out to greet her, politely saying, “Sorry to trouble you again, Fourth Miss.” Then she added with a hint of reproach, “The maid in charge of the medicine is getting lazier by the day.”

Qingyuan replied, “It wasn’t her fault. I wanted to do it myself. The physician recently changed the prescription and instructed that fritillaria be added halfway through the decoction. I was afraid the maid might get the timing wrong, so I thought it best to watch over it myself.” As she spoke, she walked into the inner room. “Is Grandmother awake now?”

Yuejian replied that the old madam had just woken up. She lifted the green bamboo curtain high, and a maid standing inside took the tray and softly announced, “Old Madam, the Fourth Miss has brought your medicine.”

A cough came from the large bed, and the gauze canopy stirred slightly. The old madam lay slanted against the headboard, only a faint silhouette visible.

Qingyuan stepped forward and signaled the maid to present the medicine. She spoke gently, “Grandmother, the physician said that after being ill all winter, now that the weather is warming up, your health should improve. He prescribed a new formula today, with a few different herbs. After two more doses, we’ll see how it works.”

With that, she personally took the medicine bowl, stepped up onto the footstool, and handed it to the old madam. She pulled out a handkerchief to place on the quilt and then picked up the enamel box.

Madam Xie was a woman of great authority. The old master had never concerned himself with household matters, so the entire family relied on her decisions. In her youth, she had been strong-willed; though age had mellowed her temper somewhat, her presence still commanded respect. The daughters-in-law and grandchildren all feared her a little. Unless it was for formal greetings, few dared to visit her courtyard. When she was healthy, she preferred solitude. But now that she was ill, a sense of melancholy had crept in.

Only this granddaughter, brought back midway through life, seemed to show genuine care. The old madam lowered her eyelids in thought. The medicine was bitter and astringent, cutting down the throat like the disappointments of life. Her maids were all proper and disciplined—too proper, lacking creativity. They only knew not to let her drink water after the medicine, lest it dilute the effect, leaving the sour bitterness to spread across her tongue before she swallowed.

The old madam was proud and never complained. But ever since Qingyuan arrived, she always brought a preserved plum she had made herself—just the right touch of sweetness to soothe the sting on the tongue.

As she set down the empty bowl, the old madam already felt a sense of anticipation, watching Qingyuan lift the lid of the enamel box and offer her the plum.

The sky was dim, and corner lamps glowed in the four corners of the room. A pair of delicate hands, a graceful face—she stood in the shimmering light, looking especially refined and lovely.

The old madam, seeing that face, was reminded of her mother. Concubine Jin had never been one to seek attention. As Xie Xu’s official rank rose, his household filled with more and more concubines. After his marriage, the old madam no longer involved herself in his private affairs. She only knew that, in the end, some died and some were driven away, leaving just one wife and two concubines.

Qingyuan’s mother had been a loser in the battle for favor—a concubine who left with a stain on her name. With such a mother, it was clear this child’s fate was also a bitter one.

The old madam looked away. “You don’t need to do this kind of work yourself anymore. Just focus on taking care of yourself. A proper young lady should carry herself with the dignity of her station.”

Qingyuan acknowledged this, then paused and added, “I wasn’t raised at Grandmother’s side and haven’t had the chance to show my filial piety. Now that I’ve returned, it’s only right that I serve you personally. I may be clumsy, but I hope to earn your favor. Since Grandmother has spoken, I’ll be more mindful in the future.”

She gave a slight bow and withdrew from the room. Such cold treatment was nothing new—she had long since learned to endure it in silence.

Baoxian came forward to meet her. Qingyuan smiled and said, “Let’s go.”

Just as they rounded the floor screen, a stewardess entered in haste. She gave Qingyuan a quick curtsy and hurried inside.

The stewardess had a loud voice, and her words carried all the way to the doorway. She announced that the wife of the prefect had arrived and requested an audience with the old madam and the lady of the house—there was an urgent matter to discuss.

Baoxian glanced at her mistress. Qingyuan’s expression remained calm, her steps steady as she lifted her skirt and stepped over the threshold.

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**Jingzhe—literally means “Awakening of Insects.” It symbolizes the time of year when the weather warms and hibernating insects awaken due to spring thunder.

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