Chapter 102: Making a Grand Entrance in Costume

On the carriage, Cheng Zhao turned her head away.

So, Zhou Yuanshen really liked being called “Third Brother” by others.

To him, Cheng Zhao and Mu Jiang were no different.

Mu Jiang’s repeated calls of “Third Brother” made Cheng Zhao feel as if the entire front gate of the Duke’s residence were their bedchamber, as if she had blundered into a private space meant for just the two of them.

They seemed oblivious, but in that instant, Cheng Zhao felt acutely awkward.

Yet she quickly composed herself.

Mu Jiang had always been Zhou Yuanshen’s woman—this was not something that had only just happened today. And her own hopes for bearing an heir still depended on him.

She decided to pretend she had gone deaf for a moment and heard nothing.

There were many pressing matters today; these trivial annoyances could wait.

“...Isn’t that young lady in the crimson dress Hu Zhiwei, Eldest Aunt’s niece?” Cheng Zhao asked.

Zhou Yuanshen’s face was expressionless. “Yes.”

Cheng Zhao thought to herself, That is the future secondary concubine.

If the Dowager Madame had brought her along to the temple service, it meant she already had intentions. Without her approval, First Madam, née Song, would never have dared to bring Hu Zhiwei.

Cheng Zhao said nothing more.

Zhou Yuanshen also remained silent, even closing his eyes to doze off, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

Soon, their carriage arrived at the Chongyang Temple.

The rain seemed to have stopped, yet not quite; it lingered in the air like a thin mist, threatening to fall but never quite doing so.

Zhou Yuanshen jumped off the carriage. Without waiting for the driver to set down the mounting stool, he called out to Cheng Zhao, “Come down.”

As soon as Cheng Zhao leaned out, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her down.

Cheng Zhao: “...”

The Chongyang Temple was not on a mountain, but still had over a hundred stone steps leading up to the vermilion platform before its gate.

The weather and the path were both damp. Zhou Yuanshen extended his hand toward Cheng Zhao. “Come.”

Their carriage was at the very front, followed by those of the Dowager Madame and the others; the maids’ carriages were at the rear.

The Dowager Madame’s carriage had not yet arrived, let alone the maids’.

Only a few guards were nearby; there was no one to assist Cheng Zhao.

The steps were indeed slippery, making it easy to lose one’s footing.

A few young Daoist priests had already come down to pay their respects.

The entire Chongyang Temple was solemn and orderly. No idlers loitered at the gate, and the steps had been scrubbed clean, not a single fallen leaf in sight.

The deferential attitude of everyone toward the Zhou family spoke volumes about their elevated status.

“It’s not proper,” Cheng Zhao hesitated.

She was the Duchess.

Under the watchful eyes of so many, how could she behave like a young girl and let him hold her hand up the steps? She was hardly a maiden just past her coming-of-age ceremony.

As she thought this, Zhou Yuanshen had already taken firm hold of her hand.

He had just lifted her down from the carriage in front of the young priests and the guards. Cheng Zhao kept reminding herself: Focus on the important matters; do not let your attention waver.

She did not pull her hand back but ascended the steps alongside Zhou Yuanshen.

Greeting them at the entrance was none other than the temple’s master, Grandmaster Yang.

“Old Immortal,”

the young couple addressed him respectfully, performing the customary greeting.

Grandmaster Yang smiled. “Lord Duke, Duchess, you are too kind. My Daoist name is Zhichang. Merely calling me Zhichang would be more than I deserve.”

“Old Immortal, you are far too modest,” Cheng Zhao replied with a smile. “Grandmother should be arriving soon. We’ll go inside first and check that everything is in perfect order.”

Grandmaster Yang nodded in agreement.

He instructed his two senior disciples to wait properly and report immediately when the Dowager Madame arrived. Then he accompanied Cheng Zhao and Zhou Yuanshen to inspect the venue where the ritual would be held today.

The entire temple was impeccably clean. Everything that could be washed had been washed; everything that could be repainted had been given a fresh coat of paint.

Even if the Empress Dowager herself were holding a Daoist service here, the standard of preparation could hardly have been better, Cheng Zhao mused.

She felt she had gained a new layer of understanding about the Dowager Madame.

The aristocratic clans treated the Dowager Madame with respect, but nowhere near as keenly as these temples and monasteries, which were truly masters at reading the minds of the powerful.

“Lord Duke, Duchess, there is something this old Daoist must report: Half an hour ago, a eunuch arrived from the palace, saying that Consort Dou will also be attending today to show her support. Is your esteemed household already aware of this?” Grandmaster Yang asked with a smile.

Zhou Yuanshen remained impassive.

Cheng Zhao glanced at him, then answered honestly, “We were in such a rush this morning, afraid of missing the auspicious hour, that we did not hear Grandmother mention it.”

She added with a smile to Grandmaster Yang, “Thank you, Old Immortal, for telling us. Now we are prepared.”

Grandmaster Yang chuckled. “You are too kind, Duchess. The Consort is most gracious and deeply favored by His Majesty.”

Of course she was favored.

Being able to leave the palace so freely to attend the Dowager Madame’s service was a clear sign of immense imperial grace—it was a rare privilege for any palace consort to leave the palace, often recorded by court historians.

“Consort Dou assists the Empress in managing the Six Palaces and is indeed deeply trusted by Their Majesties. Her presence today is also a mark of Their Majesties’ respect for Grandmother,” Zhou Yuanshen said.

Then Zhou Yuanshen and Grandmaster Yang engaged in idle conversation.

Behind them, Cheng Zhao thought to herself: Three variables.

There were three unexpected factors in today’s ritual.

First, Grandmaster Yang was probing their relationship with the Dowager Madame. By deliberately mentioning Consort Dou, he wanted to confirm whether Cheng Zhao and Zhou Yuanshen had known about her arrival.

Second, Consort Dou’s attendance was the biggest variable, completely catching Cheng Zhao off guard. She had expected other noble ladies to send gifts, but never an imperial consort.

This even bent the rules of propriety.

Mu Jiang was far from being treated like a princess; it was the Dowager Madame who truly seemed like an “Empress Dowager in all but name.”

The third variable was Hu Zhiwei. Having her come along to the temple was also surprising.

Cheng Zhao wondered, Which of these three is putting on a performance, and which are merely innocent bystanders being used by the Dowager Madame to divert attention? Surely not all three are going to perform on the same stage?

By now, she firmly believed that the Dowager Madame planned to make an example of her today.

At the birthday banquet, Cheng Zhao had bested the eldest branch’s matriarch and daughter-in-law, and she held a noble title in her own right. In the Dowager Madame’s eyes, that was a complete imbalance of power.

Anyone who slipped out of control and threatened the Dowager Madame’s “rule” was guilty of a capital offense. If the household were compared to a court, Cheng Zhao was the rebellious minister plotting a coup.

She would either die or at least suffer grievously.

Cheng Zhao was reminded of her sea voyage.

She had always heard tales of great waves powerful enough to shatter a ship, and she had worried and feared.

But when the great wave truly came, the deathly dread and danger had instead stirred something in her—she even felt eager to see where fate would push her.

She had faced the great wave.

And she had won; she had survived.

Every crisis, she felt, was a trial before a great burden.

Just like now.

She was curious to see what the Dowager Madame would do to her.

While Cheng Zhao was lost in thought, a young Daoist priest came hurrying to report that the Dowager Madame’s carriage was approaching and would soon arrive.

They had actually sent someone ahead to wait halfway along the road.

Grandmaster Yang smiled and said to Cheng Zhao and Zhou Yuanshen, “Lord Duke, Duchess, please wait here a moment. This old Daoist will go greet our guest.”

“We’ll go together,” Zhou Yuanshen said.

The three of them returned to the main gate of Chongyang Temple.

No sooner had they arrived than the Dowager Madame’s carriage pulled up just in front.

This time, Grandmaster Yang did not wait on the vermilion platform. Instead, he personally descended the steps to help the Dowager Madame down from her carriage, as dutifully as one of her own household servants.

Zhou Yuanshen and Cheng Zhao also descended the steps. He still held her hand, afraid she might slip.

Everyone who alighted from their carriages—including the Dowager Madame herself—looked at their clasped hands.

Mu Jiang’s expression turned sour again in an instant.

As for Huan Qingtang, her gaze flickered over them briefly and then quickly withdrew.

Second Madam couldn’t help but laugh; Zhou Yuanqi muttered under his breath, “How improper, a brute with no manners.”

“Stop your nonsense. It’s you who has no manners. If you keep being so disrespectful, I’ll have to hit you,” Second Madam said through clenched teeth.

“You’re taking his side,” Zhou Yuanqi criticized both sides at once, scolding his elder brother and then his mother, not letting anyone silence him.

Second Madam: “...”