Lady Xiao Lin was a concubine-born daughter of the Lin family and had always been at odds with Ji Chan’s mother, though they maintained some contact over the years.
Ji Chan had once overheard the maids gossiping that, in her youth, Lady Xiao Lin had been infatuated with her then-future brother-in-law, the Jinyang Marquis, and caused quite a stir over it. However, she was soon married off to Zhao Ming, a second-rank scholar from that year’s imperial exams.
The maids believed she kept ties with the Marquis Estate because she still harbored feelings for the Marquis.
After marriage, Lady Xiao Lin lived well, with a son and a daughter, and a husband who doted on her.
Her husband had leveraged the Lin family’s connections to stay in the capital, rising to the rank of Left Deputy Censor-in-Chief at the Censorate, a fourth-rank official.
Ji Chan only saw her aunt during holidays, exchanging few words, their relationship distant. She hadn’t expected that, after being expelled from the Marquis Estate, her aunt would still be willing to associate with her.
Hearing Sun Mama’s words, Achan replied, “Thank you for Aunt’s concern. I’m fine now.”
“You’re safe, and that’s what matters.” Sun Mama patted her chest, as if greatly relieved. Being taken by the Mirror Division and returning alive was already fortunate.
Yet she found it surprising that the young lady’s speech seemed slightly different, somehow more pleasant to the ear.
Achan smiled gently and asked, “Sun Mama, you must be tired from waiting so long. Would you like to rest inside?”
She pulled a key from a hidden pocket to open the door, but Sun Mama quickly declined, “No need for me to rest. I’m just here to pass on Madam’s message. She hasn’t seen you in a while and would like to invite you over for a chat. Are you free tomorrow?”
“Since Aunt invites me, I’ll make time.”
“Very well. Rest well tonight, Miss. I’ll come to fetch you tomorrow.”
Having delivered her mistress’s message, Sun Mama didn’t linger. She returned to the carriage, and the driver soon set off.
Achan stood by the door, watching the carriage depart, before turning to unlock it. As expected, a cloud of dust greeted her, and the cold inside was biting.
Originally a general store, the shop had two floors. After being reclaimed, the shelves had been removed, leaving the first floor empty, without even a stool.
She closed the door and went upstairs. It was just as cold, but there were a few more items.
A simple wooden bed held neatly folded bedding. A wooden cabinet by the wall contained undergarments and a new set of winter clothes. In a corner of the cabinet was a wooden box with about ten taels of scattered silver.
A brazier under the bed was filled with ash and unburned charcoal.
With the brazier, she wouldn’t freeze tonight.
Achan went downstairs to the back courtyard. Though the shop’s location wasn’t ideal, it had one advantage: a well in the courtyard, along with a storage room, a kitchen, and an outhouse.
Without the well, the shop’s price would have been lower, and it might have sold long ago. Fortunately, it hadn’t, giving her a place to stay.
The storage room held previously bought charcoal and four loads of firewood, while the kitchen had rice and flour, sparing her a trip to the market.
Feeling unwell, Achan didn’t want to move, but after seven days in prison, she needed to clean up. She heated a pot of water in the kitchen, closed the door, and quickly bathed by the stove’s warmth.
While wiping her body with a cloth and hot water, Achan carefully avoided the whip wound. The physician in prison had given her ointment to stop the bleeding, and the wound had scabbed over, nearly healed.
As she wiped her waist, she was surprised to find a thin black line emerging under the hot water.
It looked as if it had always been there, but Ji Chan’s memories held no trace of such a mark from past baths.
Then she noticed similar black lines on her knees and elbows, marks that had clearly appeared in the last few days.
Perhaps… She touched her neck. If her limbs had these marks, there might be one there too.
Were these marks the cause of her weakness? Achan wasn’t sure.
They were likely related to the possession, but she had no clues or solutions, so she could only take things one step at a time.
Fortunately, the marks faded after she finished cleaning.
That night, with the brazier lit, the room warmed slightly, and Achan managed a decent sleep. But by the end of the yín hour (3 AM to 5 AM), she was awakened by the cold, the brazier’s charcoal burned out, and her stomach growled with hunger.
Wrapped in her blanket, she lay motionless on the bed, radiating despair. Being human was miserable—needing three meals a day, easily freezing to death. The more she thought, the bleaker it seemed.
Her will battled her instincts, but her resolve won over hunger. It wasn’t until the start of the sì hour (9 AM to 11 AM), when Sun Mama came to fetch her, that she ate a few chestnut cakes in the carriage to quell her hunger.
Sun Mama watched Achan elegantly finish an entire plate of cakes, sighing inwardly. What a pity, a fine Marquis’s daughter reduced to this, seemingly without even a morning meal.
After Achan finished and drank a cup of hot tea, the carriage stopped at the Zhao residence.
Sun Mama led her through the inner courtyard, down a long corridor, to the main house.
Perhaps their timing was poor. As they entered the courtyard, Achan heard a sharp female voice from inside, “What’s wrong with being a second wife? I want to marry him!”
It was likely her cousin, Zhao Wenyue, whom she’d only met a few times in childhood.
Zhao Wenyue was clearly arguing with her mother about her marriage, though it was unclear who she wished to marry. The daughter of a Left Deputy Censor-in-Chief, willing to be a second wife?
Sun Mama evidently hadn’t anticipated this scene, her expression turning awkward. Seeing Achan act as if she heard nothing, she relaxed slightly.
She quickened her pace, pushed open the main house’s door, lifted the curtain, and announced loudly, “Madam, I’ve brought Miss Chan.”
Her voice interrupted the arguing mother and daughter. Lady Xiao Lin took a few deep breaths before saying, “Come in.”
Achan entered, a wave of warmth hitting her. Her aunt, Lady Xiao Lin, reclined on a luohan bed, looking much as she remembered, except for a visibly pregnant belly.
Zhao Wenyue, who had just been arguing, stood to the side. Upon seeing Achan, her gaze carried a hint of hostility.
Achan was puzzled. She had little interaction with this cousin; where did the hostility come from?
“Achan pays respects to Aunt.” Achan stepped forward to bow.
Her self-address didn’t raise suspicion, as the pronunciation of “Achan” and “Ji Chan” was similar, and her late mother had sometimes called her Achan.
“Come sit.” After greeting her niece, Lady Xiao Lin impatiently dismissed her daughter. “Enough, stop vexing me here. Go back to your room.”
Zhao Wenyue, still unsatisfied from the argument, refused to let it go. Pointing at Achan, she demanded, “Is Mother against my marrying Xue Lang because of her?”
Xue Lang? The surname made Achan’s eyes flicker. Which Xue?
Lady Xiao Lin’s face darkened. She slammed the low table, seething, “You could be a proper wife, yet you insist on being a second wife. You’ve only met that Xue Mingtang a few times, and you’re already so infatuated.”
Xue Mingtang. Achan knew the name—Lady Xue’s younger brother. On the night of the Lantern Festival, the phrase “Lord Xue” had seared itself into Ji Chan’s mind.
What a coincidence.
As a mother, Lady Xiao Lin believed she was acting in her daughter’s best interest, but Zhao Wenyue saw her as the villain tearing apart her love.
She had long known her mother opposed her marrying the promising Xue Mingtang because his sister had married her uncle as a second wife. For such a petty reason, her mother was obstructing her marriage!
Zhao Wenyue didn’t want to make a scene for Achan to witness, but she couldn’t let her off easily. Her words were venomous, “Mother needn’t speak so nobly. I know you’re loyal to the Lin family, but Aunt’s affair is the talk of the capital. Everyone’s curious who my cousin’s real father is.
The fault isn’t Uncle’s, nor is Xue Lang’s sister to blame. Mother, you don’t need to impose the Lin family’s grudges on me.”
Her words left even Lady Xiao Lin dizzy with anger. Before she could respond, a sharp pain gripped her belly. The maids rushed to her side, and Sun Mama ran to fetch a physician.
Realizing she’d caused trouble, Zhao Wenyue slipped away amid the chaos.
The physician arrived quickly, prescribing medicine to stabilize the pregnancy and urging Lady Xiao Lin to rest and avoid anger.
After he left, Sun Mama couldn’t help but advise, “Madam, you’re with child, finally expecting a young master. Please temper your anger and stop fighting with Second Miss.”
Lady Xiao Lin snorted. “Am I the one fighting? She’s trying to drive me to my grave. And my husband, what’s gotten into him? He actually thinks that Xue Mingtang is a good match. My daughter can’t just marry some sixth-rank official. Even if she can’t marry into a ducal or marquis house, she shouldn’t settle like this.”
Sun Mama sighed. Madam’s temper hadn’t changed in years, and no advice could sway her.
Though sharp-tongued, Lady Xiao Lin’s anger faded quickly. Once her pain subsided, she remembered Achan, who had been left waiting.
“I heard you encountered a demon calamity on Lantern Festival night. Are you alright now?”
Achan, seated, replied, “I’m fine. The Mirror Division officials found I wasn’t involved and released me.”
“That’s good. With your mother gone, I’m your only kin in the capital. Don’t drag me into trouble.”
Achan smiled. What could she say? That her aunt was blunt?
“You’re eighteen now, aren’t you? It’s your mother’s fault for keeping you without arranging a marriage. Now, finding a good match will be hard.”
Achan lowered her eyes, saying softly, “Achan will observe three years of mourning for Mother and has no heart for marriage.”
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