chapter 3

To my surprise, the man dodged aside and dropped to his knees in front of me.

“Please don’t, eldest young lady!”

“This servant is only the household steward!”

The room went silent.

The steward and I knelt face-to-face, staring into each other’s eyes. It was, by any measure, extremely awkward.

I scratched my head for tactical purposes, sprang upright, and cleared my throat.

“Of course I knew you were the steward. This was a rehearsal.”

My provisional mother’s beautiful eyes curved like crescents.

“Of course, of course. Our treasure is so thoughtful. Your father went to the barracks today. When he returns, he can make your saddle himself.”

At that moment, a bright jingling sounded outside, like a peddler walking through the streets.

I craned my neck.

Good heavens. Had this living bodhisattva put an entire jewelry shop on her body?

Gold flashed from head to toe. How many roast chickens could all of it buy?

My provisional brother instantly transformed into a devoted lapdog.

“You’re unwell. Didn’t I tell you to rest?”

The bejeweled lady gave my provisional mother a delicate bow and called her Mother.

“Today is a joyous occasion, with Sister returning home. Naturally, I had to come see her.”

My provisional mother nodded. “Quite right. Sit down quickly, before the heat makes you ill.”

Just as I had expected. This had to be the foster daughter: beautiful, educated, and frail. Standard equipment for a scheming white-lotus maiden.

She must have grown so tall and curvaceous after years of eating the manor’s fine white buns.

She smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but I struck first.

“So this is the overdeveloped foster daughter raised on white-flour buns!”

“Enough!” my provisional brother snapped.

There it was. Once the heroine appeared, everyone automatically took the villainess’s side.

Today I would expose their scheme. If they truly meant to use me as a substitute bride, I would pry down the pearl curtain tonight and run. With those pearls, I would never lack buns again.

I shot to my feet, my presence growing from six feet to twenty. I tipped my head back to look at the foster daughter, who stood a whole head taller than me.

“Now that I’m home, I demand that you leave at once and—”

“She’s your sister-in-law,” my provisional brother said flatly.

“What?”

“And she’s carrying your nephew.”

My expression cycled through shock, horror, and blank incomprehension.

“That can’t be right,” I muttered. “This isn’t how Blind Wang told it.”

“Who is Blind Wang?”

“A storyteller under the bridge,” I admitted guiltily. “I used to drum up audiences for him. He paid me one copper coin, enough for a flatbread.”

My brother looked heartbroken. “You would rather trust a wandering fraud than your own brother?”

My sister-in-law burst out laughing.

“Sister is even more entertaining than the heroines in storybooks.”

I wanted to die of shame. My toes were already excavating a three-courtyard estate beneath the floor.

My provisional mother hugged me. “Silly child, you’re the only daughter in the Marquis Anding household. We cannot spoil you enough.”

“Then…” I raised a timid hand. “The pearl curtain by the door?”

“Take it down! She can use the pearls as marbles!”

My provisional father’s voice came from the doorway.

“But, Daughter, next time you acknowledge your father, look carefully before you kneel!”

I had nothing to say.