Chapter 140: Blame It on Cheng Zhao
When the First Madam asked about Huan Qingtang, Cheng Zhao said nothing.
There was no need for her to lower herself by telling the First Madam that Huan Qingtang had gone to the Shou’an Courtyard.
The First Madam would find out easily enough on her own.
If it came from Cheng Zhao’s mouth, it would only seem like she was tattling, and if word got back to the stewards, it would hurt Cheng Zhao’s reputation and authority.
“Go back now,” said the First Madam. “Next time, don’t be so late. Don’t let pleasure keep you away.”
Cheng Zhao acknowledged the order.
As she stepped out of the Chengming Hall, she saw Suyue and Qiubai waiting at the entrance.
The three of them hadn’t returned together. Cheng Zhao had accompanied Zhou Yuanshen to the residence of General Pingxi, leaving the maids behind.
“We arrived first and waited at the Chenhui Courtyard. The Lord Duke said you were in the Chengming Hall,” Suyue said.
Then she added, “The Lord Duke has already returned to the Nonghua Courtyard.”
Cheng Zhao remained silent.
Suyue and Qiubai exchanged a glance, then quietly followed behind her. The walk back was somewhat long, and Suyue cautiously ventured, “Did the First Madam scold you?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why do you seem unhappy?” Suyue pressed. “Did the Lord Duke upset you?”
Aside from the Lord Duke or the First Madam, Suyue couldn’t think of anyone else.
Qiubai, on the other hand, asked, “Or was it the Fourth Young Master who annoyed you back at home?”
Cheng Zhao was speechless.
Her anger rarely lasted long—she would fume for a while, then think, “It’s not worth tormenting myself over this.”
Having grown up surrounded by family who treated her well, she had never truly suffered deep grievance. So her temper flared up easily but faded just as fast.
She broke into a smile.
Suyue and Qiubai breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“...To be honest, Fourth Brother really overstepped. How can he bear to be apart from Helian Xuan?” Cheng Zhao remarked.
Suyue and Qiubai murmured words of comfort.
Meanwhile, as the mistress and her maids returned to the Nonghua Courtyard, Huan Qingtang finally arrived at the Chengming Hall.
The First Madam Song now treated her with a kind of reckless contempt, demanding in the presence of maids and servants why she had come back so late.
When Huan Qingtang tried to explain, the First Madam Song cut her off: “Don’t make excuses for me. Go to the small shrine and copy Buddhist scriptures!”
She had been punished.
The small shrine in the Chengming Hall was set up in a side chamber, rarely used except for incense offerings on the first and fifteenth of the month—similar to the east side room in Cheng Zhao’s residence, which housed a statue of the Goddess of Fertility.
Spending a whole night copying scriptures in such a chamber was grueling.
Huan Qingtang respectfully acknowledged the order: “As Mother commands.”
One of her maids slipped out unnoticed.
Soon, Nanny Sun, sent by the Dowager Madame, arrived at the Chengming Hall and summoned the First Madam Song to the Shou’an Courtyard.
When Song returned, her face was sallow and livid, yet she forced a smile for Huan Qingtang: “Your filial devotion is enough. Go on back now.”
Huan Qingtang replied, “It’s late. Mother should rest early.”
She turned and left.
Her senior maid couldn’t help but complain on her behalf: “The First Madam grows more overbearing by the day! But judging by her expression, she’ll calm down for a few days at least.”
Huan Qingtang smiled bitterly. “Even if she calms down, it won’t last. Just a temporary lull.”
Then she asked, “What set her off so suddenly this time?”
The maid thought for a moment. “Cheng Shi went to the Chengming Hall earlier. It was probably her stirring the pot. She excels at that.”
Huan Qingtang nodded faintly. “That would make sense. From the moment Cheng Shi set foot in this household, she’s been provoking and causing trouble.”
She added, “Every problem in this house traces back to her. She might be fated to clash with the Duke of Chen’s household.”
“Of course she’s not compatible with it,” the maid said. “When the marriage was arranged, they never even calculated her and the Zhou family’s birth charts—it was the Empress herself who commanded the match.”
She went on, “She’s a troublemaker. Every incident bears her mark! When will the First Madam realize that? If Cheng Shi isn’t removed, the First Madam will never have peace. But she’s shortsighted—instead, she focuses on you, because you’re easier to bully.”
After all, Cheng Zhao was not the First Madam’s daughter-in-law; she was a titled lady of the highest rank, holding power that outstripped the First Madam on both counts—family hierarchy and official honor.
Only Huan Qingtang was vulnerable.
The maid added, “Once your own titled lady status is granted, the First Madam will treat you differently. You’re perfect in every way—just a little unlucky in this one thing.”
Huan Qingtang, too, felt that Cheng Zhao had caused her no small amount of trouble.
For a family to flourish, the inner household must be harmonious and stable, yet Cheng Zhao spent her days stirring up unrest.
The Dowager Madame really should make an early decision and deal with Cheng Zhao—remove the source of chaos once and for all.
Back at the Nonghua Courtyard, Cheng Zhao changed her clothes and washed her hands.
The red flower-stain on her right hand wouldn’t come off easily.
“This garment is ruined,” Nanny Li said. “What did you stain it with?”
Cheng Zhao told her the truth.
“It probably won’t wash out,” Nanny Li said. “This fabric is especially prone to staining.”
“If it can’t be washed, put it at the bottom of the trunk. I’ll have the same fabric made into another one later, so Second Sister-in-Law won’t ask. She complimented this short jacket just today,” Cheng Zhao replied.
As they spoke, Zhou Yuanshen, who had also changed and washed his hands, walked in. He reached out a hand. “Let me see.”
Nanny Li handed him the garment.
“What is this fabric called?” he asked.
Nanny Li answered, “A textile workshop in Wu Commandery produced it—their best batch last year. It doesn’t have a specific name. To get more, we’ll have to wait until this year’s harvest.”
“When will it be available this year?” he inquired.
“Soon. The new silk cocoons are about to come to market," Nanny Li replied.
Zhou Yuanshen said nothing more.
They had dinner on the large kang by the window in the inner chamber, eating in silence. Cheng Zhao was no longer angry, but she wasn’t in the mood to engage with him either.
After the meal, Zhou Yuanshen washed up, changed into his underclothes, and lay down on the bed with a book.
Cheng Zhao wanted to comb her hair. She sat at the dressing table and asked Nanny Li to use a fine-toothed comb to ease out the tangles—it always felt soothing.
The couple spoke not a word to each other. Instead, it was Nanny Li and Cheng Zhao who exchanged quiet remarks now and then.
“...I hear she was ordered to copy Buddhist scriptures as punishment,” Nanny Li murmured.
The Nonghua Courtyard had already secured some ears and eyes of its own, and as long as the events at the Chengming Hall weren’t deliberately hidden, Cheng Zhao could keep herself informed.
Cheng Zhao glanced at Zhou Yuanshen from the corner of her eye.
His gaze was still fixed on his book.
“Let them bicker and squabble if they have the energy for it. It has nothing to do with us,” Cheng Zhao said.
Nanny Li sighed. “I have a feeling this year won’t be peaceful either.”
Even without Mu Jiang present in the household.
The problem at the Chengming Hall could no longer be concealed.
It was the Dowager Madame’s fault. But with her power and authority, who dared speak ill of her? So that “fault” needed a scapegoat.
Inevitably, it would fall to one of three: Cheng Zhao, First Madam Song, or Huan Qingtang.
Second Madam, because she had no standing at the Chengming Hall, escaped unscathed—which made one think that sometimes simplicity was a blessing.
“I’m young. Even if there’s no peace, I’ll still live well. Back on the boat, I never had a moment when the wooden planks beneath my feet were steady,” Cheng Zhao said.
Nanny Li was speechless.
Still, not yet twenty, vigorous and full of spirit—she had the capital to win.
That thought comforted Nanny Li considerably.
Zhou Yuanshen seemed to raise his head casually in their direction, as if deliberately glancing at Cheng Zhao. Though the mistress and her nanny spoke softly, he must have overheard them talking.
Cheng Zhao didn’t look at him.
Nanny Li studied her expression in the mirror, then turned to watch Zhou Yuanshen reading so intently. She fought back a smile, guessing the young couple had fallen out again.
Carefully finishing combing Cheng Zhao’s hair, she said, “Rest early, young madam.”
And with that, she left.
It was late. Cheng Zhao got into bed.
Zhou Yuanshen graciously moved his legs aside to let her pass.
The two of them remained silent.