When Marquis Jinyang had married Lady Xue and introduced her and her children to everyone, he had been just like Zhao Ming today. There was a restrained pride in his eyes, likely because he believed his own son was exceptional in every way.
Back then, Ji Chan hadn’t understood it.
But today, sitting here, Achan saw it clearly.
The difference was that Marquis Jinyang had boldly brought his children into the household, heedless of gossip, his status and power enough to suppress any rumors.
Zhao Ming, however, was a censor. If his character were found lacking and someone seized on it, he might lose his position. Hence, this charade.
Old Lady Zhao’s words today were likely premeditated, intended to cement Zhao Wenqi’s status.
At Lady Xiao Lin’s funeral, they eagerly had her “adopt” a son, and others would still praise Lord Zhao for his deep devotion to his late wife.
What surprised Achan was that Zhao Wenyue didn’t seize the chance to cause a scene. Given her personality, Achan didn’t think she’d be so considerate of her father. She must have been offered enough benefits to agree to this adoption.
With the only potential troublemaker in the household dealt with, and Zhao Wenqi’s adoption publicly acknowledged among relatives, it would be hard to change now.
Watching the radiant Zhao Wenqi being praised by all, Achan thought of Lady Xiao Lin, just days ago cradling her belly with hopeful anticipation. Humans were indeed fickle.
She kept her eyes on Zhao Wenqi, noticing that he occasionally glanced her way, as if looking at someone.
Achan looked around and spotted a young woman in her thirties among the Zhao relatives. The woman was dressed plainly but with meticulous care. The jade ornaments she wore looked particularly valuable.
Seated not far from Achan, the woman smiled reassuringly at Zhao Wenqi whenever he looked her way, as if comforting him.
“The household has prepared a banquet. Please proceed to the dining area,” Zhao Ming announced after the relatives’ curiosity was satisfied, instructing servants to guide everyone to their seats.
Achan deliberately sat next to the young woman but didn’t strike up a conversation. From the others at the table, she learned the woman’s identity.
Her surname was Su, a distant relative of Old Lady Zhao.
It was said she had married a traveling merchant years ago and lived elsewhere for less than two years before her husband died in an accident, leaving her alone. She returned to the capital to make a living.
A young, beautiful widow with considerable wealth naturally drew attention. As soon as they sat down, someone tentatively asked if she had considered remarrying, offering to make introductions.
Madam Su politely but firmly declined the offer.
After the meal, the guests left in small groups, planning to return for Lady Xiao Lin’s funeral procession the next day.
Achan lingered behind, and surprisingly, Madam Su didn’t rush to leave either.
When Old Lady Zhao finished eating and was escorted out by her family, Madam Su finally stood and approached them.
Old Lady Zhao’s face lit up with a smile upon seeing her. “Isn’t this A-Yao? You came to the residence and didn’t even let me know. Are we growing distant?”
Madam Su smiled and explained, “How could you say that, Aunt? I’m here to see you now.”
Old Lady Zhao grabbed her hand. “It’s good you’re here. I’ll have a courtyard prepared. You must stay a few days this time and keep me company.”
“Well…” Madam Su looked hesitant.
Zhao Ming, standing beside Old Lady Zhao, spoke up. “Mother hasn’t been well lately. If it’s convenient, Cousin, please stay and keep her company.”
“Then I’ll respectfully accept,” Madam Su said, glancing at Zhao Ming before quickly looking away.
Zhao Wenqi’s excitement was unmistakable when he heard Madam Su would stay. He hovered around her, and she gently touched his face, her gaze tender.
To others, it was an ordinary scene, but to Achan, it was the key to unraveling all her doubts.
As the Zhao family left with Madam Su, Zhao Wenqi bounced along beside them, finally showing the innocence of a child. The scene looked warm and harmonious, as if they were the true family.
They seemed to have forgotten the original mistress of this household lying in the coffin in the memorial hall.
At night, in the memorial hall.
On the altar, arm-thick white candles burned brightly, illuminating the hall. Zhao Wenyue knelt on a cushion, her expression restless.
It was already the hài hour (9 PM to 11 PM), and Zhao Wenqi had been taken away by Old Lady Zhao to sleep early, citing his young age. But Zhao Wenyue had to stay to keep vigil.
She didn’t want to be here. The thought of her mother’s body in the coffin made her uneasy, as if her mother were watching her.
After enduring another quarter-hour, footsteps sounded outside the hall, startling Zhao Wenyue so much that her face paled.
When the figure entered and she saw who it was, she let out a long breath. “Father, why are you here?”
Zhao Ming stepped forward, helping her up from the cushion. He spoke gently, “You’ve had a long day. Rest tonight. I’ll keep watch over your mother.”
“Thank you, Father.” Zhao Wenyue stood eagerly, stumbling slightly as her legs were numb from kneeling.
“Careful,” Zhao Ming said, steadying her with a firm grip. “You’re a grown woman now. In three months, the Xue family will come to propose. You need to be more composed.”
“I know. Father’s the best to me,” Zhao Wenyue said, meaning it.
Only her father cared for her, knowing what she wanted. Unlike her mother, who claimed it was for her good but was really just selfish.
Though she didn’t much like Old Lady Zhao, the old woman was right about one thing: her mother was selfish.
Without her mother, the household was much quieter, with no one meddling in everything.
As his daughter left, Zhao Ming bent down, picked up a stack of paper money, and crouched by the brazier, tossing sheets into the flames one by one.
The paper blackened in the fire, turning to ash. The flickering flames reflected on Zhao Ming’s face, shifting between light and shadow.
“When I married you, I was truly happy and wanted to treat you well for a lifetime, even though you married me because your reputation was ruined and you had no choice.”
His voice was low, revealing truths Lady Xiao Lin had never known.
“But you, relying on your family’s status, looked down on my parents and drove them away, heedless of my dignity. You refused to bear me another son and wouldn’t let me take a concubine. I went along with all of it.
You never should have killed the unborn child of me and my cousin. I never intended to bring her into the household; that child was an accident. Yet you couldn’t even tolerate that, secretly forcing her to abort a six-month-old boy.”
“All these years, you never mentioned it to me, and I pretended nothing happened. That night, when you heard a baby crying and were so terrified, was it because your guilty conscience haunted you?”
Zhao Ming seemed to be questioning Lady Xiao Lin, but she could no longer answer.
The candle flame flickered.
“Thankfully, heaven has eyes. My cousin bore me another child. I named him Wenqi. He’s been bright and diligent since he was small, far surpassing Wensheng, whom you spoiled into a failure.
Wensheng doesn’t resemble me at all, yet he held the title of legitimate son. How could my son be such a useless waste?
To let Wenqi stay in the household legitimately, someone had to be sacrificed. You understand, don’t you?”
“But rest assured, even in death, you’ll always be my principal wife, and Wenqi will call you Mother.”
At that moment, a faint noise came from outside. Zhao Ming turned toward the door, demanding sharply, “Who’s there? Show yourself.”
“Cousin, it’s me,” Su Yao’s figure appeared outside the hall. She wore a white cloak, but it didn’t hide the scarlet skirt hem beneath.
Zhao Ming was surprised. He stood and approached, taking her hand without hesitation. “It’s so cold. Why did you come?”
“I was worried about you.” She glanced at the spirit tablet on the altar. “And to offer Sister a stick of incense.”
“Why call her Sister?”
Zhao Ming led her into the hall. The two, who hadn’t even exchanged glances in public, were more intimate than an ordinary couple in private.
“Wenqi will be recorded under her name, so I should call her Sister,” Su Yao said, sighing with a hint of sadness. “If our first child had lived, he’d likely be as bright as Wenqi.”
“It’s in the past,” Zhao Ming comforted softly.
Su Yao stepped forward to light three sticks of incense, but before she could place them in the burner, Zhao Ming took them and tossed them into the brazier.
“Don’t offer incense. She doesn’t deserve your ‘Sister.’”
Su Yao sighed. “Though she killed our first child, Wenqi has now taken her son’s place. It’s karmic retribution.”
“It’s unfair to you that your relationship with Wenqi can’t be known yet,” Zhao Ming said with pity.
Su Yao smiled. “What are you saying, Cousin? As long as you and Wenqi are well, nothing else matters. I don’t care about titles. Seeing you as I always have is enough.”
Zhao Ming embraced her, and Su Yao rested her head on his shoulder.
As they poured out their hearts, Sun Mama stood outside, hand over her mouth, staring at the pair entwined.
She had come, worried that Zhao Wenyue wasn’t tending the vigil properly, risking the interruption of Madam’s incense. She never expected to hear this.
Seeing the two embracing in Madam’s memorial hall, Sun Mama slowly backed away. She could never have imagined that the master, once so devoted to Madam, was such a heartless man.
In the dark, Sun Mama didn’t notice a pebble underfoot. It skittered away, striking something with a thud.
Zhao Ming instantly released Su Yao, shouting, “Who’s there?”
He strode toward the door.
At that moment, a gust of wind slammed the door shut, nearly hitting Zhao Ming’s face.
Taking advantage of the moment, Sun Mama hurriedly fled.
Zhao Ming kicked the door open, but no one was outside.
Su Yao joined him, peering out. “It was probably the wind knocking something over.”
After a slight hesitation, she added, “Cousin, I’ve heard that those who die unjustly can haunt a household. That wind was strange. Could it be…?”
She glanced at the coffin in the hall.
“Don’t worry,” Zhao Ming reassured her. “I’ve already sent for Master Jingyun from Pingnan Temple. He’ll arrive tomorrow morning.”
“Master Jingyun? Is he coming to perform a ritual to guide Sister’s soul?”
“No,” Zhao Ming said coldly, staring at the flickering candlelight. “That master excels at sealing souls. Once her spirit is locked in the coffin, we won’t need to worry about ghosts causing trouble.”
Even if Lin Xiaoqiao became a ghost, he’d ensure she had no chance to resist.
Su Yao relaxed. “You’ve thought of everything, Cousin.”
Zhao Ming smiled. “Wenqi will live in the household, and in a few years, you will too. Of course, I’ll clear all obstacles for you both.”
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