Chapter 2: Those Who Tend To Worry Are Often The Honest Ones

The wife of the prefect has just arranged a major marriage proposal for the Second Master. This time, she must be bringing back good news,” Baoxian said, supporting Qingyuan as they returned to Danyue Pavilion.

Danyue Pavilion was the courtyard where Concubine Jin used to live. Fourteen years ago, two concubines died in quick succession, which greatly affected the master of the house. Since then, he never took in another woman. The small courtyard had remained empty—until today. A house left uninhabited for too long easily breeds ghosts. Now that Qingyuan was brought back to live there, if Concubine Jin wanted to harm someone, she would only be harming her own daughter.

Qingyuan had lived in this courtyard for a while and had hoped her mother might come to see her, but that hope was never fulfilled. According to her grandmother, her mother died of tuberculosis not long after giving birth to her. In Qingyuan’s memory, her mother was just a name, without any real substance. But life is a long journey—who doesn’t have a beginning? She looked at the moon gate, at the newly tended flowerbeds. The first time she stepped into the Xie family, the courtyard assigned to her was overgrown and desolate—hardly a place fit for living. Yet here, she found a faint connection to her mother. The courtyard was cleaned up, the lamps lit, and she could almost imagine a silhouette cast on the gauze window—fourteen years ago, before being driven out of the Xie family, her mother had sat there doing needlework.

Qingyuan once asked her grandmother what her mother looked like. Her grandmother gazed into the distance and gestured with her hand, “She was about this tall, with fine brows and delicate eyes—just like you.”

Her mother had only stayed with the Chen family for eight months. Years later, the Chen family’s grandmother recalled her only as a woman who sat under the wisteria trellis, always looking sorrowful.

“Wicked people are usually clever. When one livelihood ends, they find another—they don’t hang themselves on a single tree. Your mother’s illness came from worry. Those who worry are often the honest ones.” That’s why the Chen family’s grandmother never believed the accusation that her mother had poisoned someone.

Murder is no small matter—one could easily be caught. Would someone like her mother really have had the courage to kill? At first, Qingyuan carried the burden of her mother’s alleged crime, feeling ashamed and unable to lift her head. But gradually, she began to doubt it. Too many things didn’t add up. She shouldn’t have accepted her mother’s guilt so easily. So when the Xie family came for her, she returned. They gave the Chen family elders a generous sum of silver as compensation for raising her over the past fourteen years. She saw the tears on her grandparents’ faces. The Xie family didn’t understand—feelings built over more than a decade couldn’t be settled with money.

She had secretly made up her mind: once she accomplished what she set out to do, she would return and honor the two elders. In this world, the only people who had truly treated her well were her grandparents from the Chen family. The Xie family had come to ask for her again and again, but only to borrow her fortune to bring peace to their household. They had never truly cared for her. Even after bringing her back, they left her to the side. She had never even met her father. Even the name Qingyuan was something the old matriarch had casually chosen.

Qingyuan—“Qing” followed the generational naming order, and “Yuan” meant completeness. The old lady had said only one thing: “It’s good that you’ve come back.” Qingyuan accepted the name. After all, she carried the Xie family’s blood. She never fought with herself over it, nor did she resent being a child of the Xie family. But before stepping into this mansion, she had another name that had followed her for fourteen years—Yunya. Her grandparents in the Chen family had called her that. Like two tender leaves sprouting from soft, white clouds—it was a name full of affection and charm.

While she was lost in thought, Baoxian was pondering the prefect’s wife’s intentions. “She’s probably here to arrange a marriage for one of the girls in the household. I wonder who it’ll be this time,” she said, glancing at Qingyuan. “Fourth Miss, we should start preparing too.”

Qingyuan didn’t react. She just leaned over the basket, searching through it. “Where did that floral pattern from this morning go?” she asked.

Baoxian grew anxious at her indifference. The Xie family was never meant to be a permanent home. If Qingyuan could find a good match, it would be a way out. She pushed the basket farther away. “My lady, did you hear what I said?”

Qingyuan couldn’t reach it anymore. She gave a small sound of protest, stood up, and pulled the basket back toward her. “I’m still young. What’s the rush? My three older sisters aren’t even engaged yet—how could it be my turn?”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Baoxian replied. “Shengzhou is a big place, and customs vary. Some places follow seniority when arranging marriages, but not Hengtang. In families like ours, with several girls of similar age, it doesn’t matter who gets engaged first. Especially in official households—it’s hard to find a good match. As long as the proposal is suitable, it’s better to secure it early, no matter who it is.”

Qingyuan smiled faintly. She understood all too well—if there were any good matches, they would never be for her. The Xie family didn’t bring her back to arrange a marriage. Her role was to bring stability to the household, and if necessary, to be used as a sacrifice in exchange for peace.

Of course, her maid was loyal to her—that was only natural. But she also knew how the other branches of the family talked about her. Some believed she had returned just to cling to the status of a noble-born girl. They laughed behind their hands, mocking her for being shallow and unaware of the danger she was in. But what they didn’t know was that she hadn’t come back to acknowledge Xie Xu as her father. She came back for her mother. A woman who had died long ago, still burdened with the accusation of murder. Qingyuan wanted to uncover the truth. No matter what the outcome, it had to be made clear.

“For now, I just want to stay in the Xie household—I’m not going anywhere,” she said slowly, her fingers gently stroking the bronze scissors. “If I left now, wouldn’t that betray my original purpose?” Over the past month, she had endured so many hardships—what reason was there to retreat now?

Baoxian understood her thoughts and said no more. She turned her head and looked out through the lattice window. The rain seemed to have eased a little, and a misty drizzle hung over the courtyard. On a day like this, with so few people around, Danyue Pavilion felt even more desolate and cold.

“We should find a way to get a few more people over here,” Baoxian said as she wiped the edge of the table. “In the other girls’ courtyards, there are always ten or so maids and older women. Even if we don’t ask for much, adding two more helpers would be good.”

Qingyuan already had a plan in mind. She replied slowly, “No rush. Sooner or later, we’ll get what we need.” After a pause, she asked, “Did you find out about the person I asked you to look into?”

Baoxian responded, “Just now, Nanny Xia sent word through Chuntai. She said all the servants who used to serve the concubine were reassigned to different places. Now, only one old maid is left doing odd jobs in the lower quarters.”

Qingyuan nodded. New people were never as useful as the old ones. That maid had been bullied into the lowest ranks—clearly, no one had cared about her mother all these years. She needed to find a way to bring that maid over. Someone who had once served her mother might still hold valuable memories.

“Keep an eye out,” she added, “and see who this Chengzi has been in contact with…”

Just as she was giving instructions, she heard faint voices outside and paused. Lifting the curtain, she saw a young maid standing at the door. Chuntai asked, “What are you here for?”

The little maid replied, “Please inform Fourth Miss that the old matriarch has asked her to come to the front.”

Chuntai acknowledged her. As the girl turned to leave, she called her back, “Is it just our young lady, or all four girls?”

“All of them,” the maid replied. “Please hurry—it wouldn’t be good to be late.”

Chuntai quickly came in, cheerfully fetching a comb and hairpins to help Qingyuan dress. “The old matriarch finally remembered to let you meet the guests. Let’s dress you up nicely and show everyone your elegance.”

Servants naturally hoped their mistress would do well—only then could they gain face. But for Qingyuan, this wasn’t necessarily a good thing. She would only be a backdrop, and likely end up entangled in trouble.

Still, since she had been summoned, she had to go. Chuntai tried to place a dangling hair ornament in her hair, but Qingyuan took it off and instead chose a delicate goldfish hairpin inlaid with enamel and gold. It was a subtle touch—just enough to show she was presentable.

To get from Danyue Pavilion to the front courtyard where guests were being received, one had to pass through a long, narrow corridor. In Hengtang, the buildings were lined with rows of horse-head walls, each with simple doors opening from them. At first glance, the corridor seemed empty, but one could never be sure—someone might suddenly appear around a corner.

And today, that’s exactly what happened. Halfway through, a side door opened, and out stepped a figure with sloping shoulders and a long neck, dressed in a robe embroidered with wild geese flying through clouds. She moved with grace, accompanied by a tall, slender maid holding a parasol high above her head—like a ceremonial canopy for an emperor.

Since they had run into each other, a greeting was necessary. Qingyuan called out, “Second Sister.” But her courtesy was not returned.

Including Qingyuan, the Xie family had three sons and four daughters. The eldest son Zhengze and second daughter Qingru were born of Lady Hu. The third daughter Qingrong, whose mother had been poisoned, was raised by Lady Hu as well. The eldest daughter Qinghe was born of Concubine Lian, while the second and third sons, Zhenglun and Zhengjun, were under Concubine Mei. These three branches each held their own power in the household. Only Qingyuan stood alone. When she first arrived at the Xie residence, everyone looked at her like a pitiful stray animal. After all, her mother had allegedly killed someone out of jealousy. For a prestigious family like the Xies to accept the daughter of a murderess—it was only due to the mercy of the old matriarch and the master’s wife.

As the legitimate daughter, Qingru looked down on Qingyuan from the bottom of her heart. Part of it was the usual rivalry among girls—resentment when one loses in beauty. Her gaze toward Qingyuan was always filled with disdain, her chin lifted high, her sharp jaw pointed directly at her. With a habitual snort, she said, “What, you’re going to the front too?”

Qingyuan knew how to be humble and deferential. She replied softly, “Someone came to my courtyard earlier with the message. It’s just a coincidence that I ran into you, Second Sister.”

Qingru couldn’t stand her sweet, gentle tone—it was the kind of voice made to be a concubine. She sneered again and turned her face away. “If I were you, I’d pretend to be sick and stay home. After all, showing your face in public is just awkward. If the prefect’s wife asks about you, the old matriarch might be put in a difficult position.”

With that, she turned and walked south. Her maid, Lüzhui, following her cue, suddenly tilted the umbrella sharply, knocking into Baoxian. Rainwater that had gathered along one rib of the umbrella poured down in a stream—soaking Qingyuan from head to toe.

Baoxian grew anxious at once. She stomped her foot and was about to confront Lüzhui. “Hey, you—”

But Qingyuan stopped her. She looked down. The fresh green satin of her dress had been soaked, and the wet areas were slowly spreading, darkening in color, clearly different from the dry parts.

Baoxian let out a long sigh, her voice filled with frustration. “You can’t go see anyone looking like this. Let’s hurry back and change—if we move quickly, we might still make it in time.”

Qingyuan shook her head. “I’ll go like this.”

Baoxian hesitated. “If you keep those wet clothes on, you’ll catch a chill. It’s been raining for days, and the weather’s turned cold again.”

Qingyuan raised her hand and touched the damp spot on her shoulder. She smiled and said, “Getting sick would be good. I’m just afraid I won’t.”

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