Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mother and I dropped to our knees.

We were finished. We had caused a disaster. All those years spent learning household-intrigue tactics from storybooks had been for nothing.

Mother hit the floor before I did, landing with a loud thud. She clutched the Marchioness’s skirt.

“This concubine greets you, Madam. May peace and good fortune attend you.”

“Your son greets you, Mother. May you be blessed with every happiness.”

We rattled off the auspicious phrases we had rehearsed countless times, cold sweat streaming down our backs. Mother trembled most of all, terrified that the Marchioness would punish her.

She had not yet sampled the splendor and extravagance of life in a noble household. Her son had not become the heir yet, either.

We could not die now!

The hall fell so quiet that a falling needle would have sounded like thunder.

At last, a gentle voice came from above us.

“You may rise.”

I stole a glance at Mother. She remained kneeling, her eyes lowered meekly—a far cry from the red-faced woman who bellowed while beating me at home.

The Marchioness said nothing more. Two servants approached us carrying trays.

Mother and I exchanged a furtive look. What was this?

“This is our first meeting, and I had no idea what would suit you. Take these ten thousand taels in banknotes.”

Ten thousand taels.

Ten thousand!

She was far more generous than Father. The farm earned only four or five thousand taels in an entire year, and the steward took every last coin to him.

Yet the supposedly venomous Marchioness had given us ten thousand taels the moment we met.

Venomous, my foot.

She was a living bodhisattva!

I swore silently that if Mother ever spoke ill of the Marchioness again, I would argue with her myself.

Judging from Mother’s stunned face, she had never imagined the Marchioness would make such a move.

“Ruthless. The Marchioness is truly ruthless. She spent all this just to lull us into lowering our guard.”

Back in the West Court, Mother stroked the banknotes, her eyes gleaming.

“I think she’s rather nice,” I said. “Not nearly as awful as you claimed.”

Mother inhaled the scent of the money, then whirled on me with a ferocious look.

“What do you know? You can’t catch a wolf without baiting the trap. That woman is deeper than she looks.”

“Oh.” I nodded and surveyed the room.

The Marchioness lived in the East Court; Mother had been given the West Court. Our rooms were bright and spacious, every piece of furniture tasteful and finely made. Whoever arranged them had clearly taken pains.

There was fresh fruit on the table and a cabinet already filled with neatly folded clothes and shoes.

If this was the Marchioness’s scheme, I could only say that it was wonderful.

Mother insisted that we keep constant watch over our enemy and never give her a moment to breathe.

So every morning, without fail, we went to pay our respects—even after the Marchioness repeatedly said we need only come at noon on the first and fifteenth days of each month.

Absolutely not.

If we did not visit, how could we watch her?

And if we did not watch her, how could we eat all the pastries in her rooms?

Hawthorn cakes today, purple-sweet-potato dumplings tomorrow—the selection never repeated.

Did the wicked Marchioness think I enjoyed dragging myself out of bed at dawn to greet her? Of course not. The West Court kitchen simply could not make pastries that tasted this good.

After several days of Mother and me appearing at sunrise, the Marchioness grew visibly exhausted. Dark shadows bruised the skin beneath her eyes, too deep for powder to conceal.

“Son, slow down today,” Mother whispered. “Save two for me.”

I picked up a cream-and-matsutake roll and ate it in one bite. Then another. Soon only a few remained.

Mother did not dare eat openly, lest she reveal her appetite and greed. She claimed she was being cautious because the Marchioness might poison the food.

For the first few days, I ate while she watched longingly.

She had tried to stop me at first, but I reasoned with her. No one would be stupid enough to poison food in her own rooms.

When the Marchioness emerged, she gave us a faintly aggrieved look.

Mother noticed nothing. She pulled me down to kowtow in greeting.

The Marchioness looked exhausted. Her eyelids were swollen, and even her voice lacked strength.

“You have been here for several days but haven’t gone into the city, have you?”

She turned to the elderly maid. “Nanny Li, take them to the accounts office and give them a banknote for one thousand taels. Let them enjoy an outing.”

Mother promptly knocked her forehead against the floor.

“This concubine thanks Madam for her generosity.”

Before leaving, the Marchioness reminded us, “If you need anything, send a maid to tell me. And stop coming so early.”

She slanted a look at Mother, amusement playing around her lips.

“If you want to know where I am and what I am doing, you may simply ask.”

Oh no. She had seen through us.

As expected of a master of household warfare. Mother and I had lost this round.

Still, it was not a total defeat. I had devoured ten plates of pastries.

Mother had always taught me to pursue the things I wanted. I was a boy; I could not grow into a timid weakling.

So before leaving, I pointed at the cream-and-matsutake rolls left on the table and summoned my courage.

“Mother, may I take those with me?”

I swallowed and waited for her answer.

“Nanny Li, have the kitchen prepare one box of every pastry for the Second Young Master and send them to the West Court.”

The Marchioness did not even turn around for my grateful bow. She merely yawned and walked away.