Zhao Qing was the only woman Shangguan Xuan acknowledged as his rightful wife.
As for Sun Qingmei, considering her diligent efforts in managing household affairs, Shangguan Xuan was willing to grant her the status of a noble concubine. With ample food, clothing, and a life of luxury, he believed he wasn’t entirely failing her.
The carriage rolled steadily until it arrived at the gates of the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion. A crowd had already gathered at the entrance—the elderly matriarch, Sun Qingmei, and various uncles, aunts, and relatives stood waiting.
Zhao Qing lifted the carriage curtain and gazed at the grand, solemn mansion, its entrance adorned with meticulously trimmed flowers and trees. Her heart swelled with excitement.
Such a wealthy and noble household!
If she could become its mistress, she would enjoy endless riches and splendor for the rest of her life.
Shangguan Xuan stepped out of the carriage first, extending his hand to help Zhao Qing down. She stood demurely by his side as he exchanged greetings with his mother and younger sister.
Meanwhile, Zhao Qing discreetly scanned the crowd at the entrance, curious about the appearance of the much-talked-about Sun Qingmei.
Her eyes swept the gathering until they froze.
Beneath the eaves stood an exceptionally beautiful young woman. Her hair was styled in an elegant updo, adorned with a blue-and-gold silk flower and two gold-and-jade hairpins. Her face was as fair as a silver platter, her eyes round and dark like polished black stones. She seemed sensitive to the cold, wrapped in a thick fox-fur cloak over her ruqun dress, clutching a hand warmer.
Every detail of her attire exuded opulence and grace.
Zhao Qing felt a pang of inadequacy and lowered her head.
Was this Sun Qingmei?
From Shangguan Xan’s sparse descriptions back in Liangzhou City, Zhao Qing had imagined Sun Qingmei as an ordinary-looking official’s wife. But now, seeing her in person, Sun Qingmei radiated beauty like a peony blooming in early winter.
Zhao Qing had always prided herself on her looks, yet in the presence of this woman beneath the eaves, she paled in comparison.
Just as bitterness gnawed at her heart, a gentle voice called out from inside the mansion, "Husband!"
Zhao Qing looked up in surprise to see another young woman in a flowing dress step out. Her features were delicate, her demeanor refined, exuding warmth and virtuous grace.
This was the real Sun Qingmei.
Relief washed over Zhao Qing—she had mistaken someone else.
Studying Sun Qingmei, she noted her modest, unassuming beauty. Her confidence swiftly returned, and the corners of her lips curled slightly.
Sun Qingmei approached Shangguan Xuan, her eyes brimming with tenderness. "Husband, it’s cold outside. Come inside and warm yourself with some tea."
Shangguan Xuan frowned.
Gazing at this gentle, virtuous woman, he felt nothing. Her excessive propriety lacked any spark—how could she compare to Zhao Qing in the slightest?
But with so many people watching, he held back his displeasure. With a mere nod, he allowed himself to be ushered into the mansion by the crowd.
In the inner courtyard, Shangguan Xuan noticed an unfamiliar woman. "And who is this?" he asked curiously.
Sun Qingmei introduced her promptly. "This is Lady Shen Wei, Prince Yan's secondary consort. Knowing of Mother’s birthday tomorrow, she personally came to deliver two pots of longevity chrysanthemums."
Zhao Qing understood now—this was a noble consort from the prince’s household, which explained her stunning beauty and exquisite attire. She couldn’t help but envy the gold-inlaid jade hairpin in Shen Wei’s hair. If only she could own one like it...
Shen Wei inclined her head politely. "With the South Garrison Marquis’s return, I, an outsider, should not intrude. The prince’s household has many affairs to attend to—I shall take my leave."
She boarded Prince Yan's Mansion’s carriage for the journey back.
Pregnant, she traveled at a leisurely pace. Leaning against the soft embroidered cushions, Shen Wei replayed the image of Zhao Qing in her mind.
Zhao Qing was slender, with large eyes and red lips. Though her hair was tied in a man’s topknot, a closer look revealed her true gender.
The somewhat renowned Military Advisor Zhao was, in fact, a woman.
Their brief encounter left Shen Wei unable to discern Zhao Qing’s true temperament.
She lifted the carriage curtain and instructed Cai Lian outside, "In the coming days, gather detailed information about Military Advisor Zhao Qing."
Cai Lian nodded eagerly. "Understood, my lady."
Though the winter sun shone, Shen Wei still felt the chill. Upon returning to the Glazed Pavilion’s warm chamber, she reclined on a cushioned divan, reviewing account books and calculating the prince’s household’s winter expenses.
The chamber’s floor was covered in thick woolen rugs. Ten-month-old Little Leyou, under the care of her maids, wobbled on unsteady legs, learning to walk amidst occasional giggles.
After a while of studying the accounts, Shen Wei glanced up at her daughter’s antics and smiled. "Let her crawl a while longer. There’s no need to rush her into walking."
The maid hesitated. "My lady, wouldn’t it be better for the young mistress to learn walking sooner?"
Shen Wei shook her head. "Children must crawl enough first."
Those who didn’t crawl sufficiently as infants risked sensory imbalances. Early walkers often developed poor vestibular systems, leading to motion sickness, disorientation, and clumsiness later in life.
Raising a child required patience: three months to roll over, six to sit, eight to crawl, and twelve before walking.
The maid didn’t grasp the reasoning but dared not disobey. She guided Little Leyou back to crawling on the rug.
Shen Wei resumed her accounts, planning the prince’s household’s winter expenditures. This year’s cold demanded ample charcoal for the secondary consorts and concubines. Since Shen Wei took charge, their lives had improved significantly.
Secondary consorts with children were permitted three visits per month, plus additional meetings during festivals and birthdays.
Even the lowest-ranking concubines saw their courtyard walls repaired. Impressed by their embroidery skills, Shen Wei arranged for a cloth merchant to purchase their work at fair prices, providing them a steady income.
Through selling their needlework, these women could save silver, bringing a glimmer of hope to their secluded lives in Prince Yan's Mansion.
As Shen Wei scrutinized the winter expenses, her gaze sharpened at an accounting error.
Frowning, she ordered, "Summon De Shun."
Moments later, the young eunuch De Shun hurried in, kowtowing in apology.
Shen Wei instructed the maids to take Little Leyou for her nap. Behind a beaded curtain, she questioned him, "You’ve made another mistake in recording the farmland revenues. If you’re unwilling to work diligently, you need not remain in the Glazed Pavilion."
Ji Xiang and De Shun had served Shen Wei the longest—one clever, the other steady.
Both were efficient and loyal, but lately, De Shun had been slipping.
De Shun knelt, his thin face etched with fear. "Please forgive me, my lady. I swear it won’t happen again."
Shen Wei studied him.
He had grown even thinner, dark circles shadowing his eyes. She withheld further reprimand and dismissed him.
When Nanny Rong entered with more account books, Shen Wei inquired about De Shun’s situation.
Nanny Rong sighed. "My lady, De Shun’s family is poor. His elderly mother has been ill for some time. To afford her medicine, he entered the prince’s service at ten. Last month, her condition worsened—the physician prescribed rare herbs. Though you’ve been generous with his wages..."
Even his monthly earnings couldn’t cover the cost.
Watching his mother’s health decline, De Shun grew increasingly distracted, leading to his mistakes.
Shen Wei didn’t hesitate and instructed Nanny Rong, "The Empress has gifted me many precious medicinal herbs. Go check the storeroom—if there are any that can treat De Shun’s mother’s illness, send them to him."
