First Madam Cheng knelt beside the couch.
“Shi’qi, what are you talking about?” she asked worriedly, reaching out to touch the medicinal plaster on Seventeenth Young Master’s face. Then she turned to the maid and asked, “How did he suddenly fall ill? What did the doctor say?”
The maid looked embarrassed, as if unsure how to respond.
At the side, Cheng Liu-niang giggled.
“Mother, the doctor said Seventeenth Brother has lovesickness!” she said, covering her mouth with her fan as she looked over at the young master lying on the couch. “Brother, did you also pass by the lotus pond and see something?”
Her words made the faces of the maids in the room change drastically.
The strange illness and sudden recovery of Cheng Si-lang had already become an unsolved mystery in the household. Although the doctor had offered a vague explanation mixing truth and fiction, to the women of the family, possession by a ghost was the only real answer.
A soul lost at first sight, and scared back into place.
In the summer heat, the temperature inside the room suddenly dropped.
“I don’t want to stay by the lotus pond anymore!” Cheng Qi-niang screamed, turned around, lifted her skirt, and ran out.
Cheng Liu-niang giggled and swayed with laughter.
“Liu-niang!” First Madam Cheng scolded sharply.
Cheng Liu-niang quickly stifled her laughter.
First Madam Cheng glanced around the room. Several of the maids had strange expressions on their faces, and when they saw her look their way, they hurriedly averted their eyes in fear. This only fueled her anger.
That fool had already been sent away, but the misfortune and bad luck she had brought with her still lingered in the household.
Truly, once touched by bad luck, it lasts three years!
“All of you, out!” she barked.
The maids in the room quickly withdrew, leaving only the ones attending Seventeenth Young Master to help him take his medicine.
“Aunt, I don’t want to take this medicine. This isn’t my medicine,” said Seventeenth Young Master, waving off the maid who was trying to feed him the decoction.
First Madam Cheng sighed, her tone turning coaxing.
“My dear child, take this medicine first, and I will find the other one for you,” she said.
“Then bring me the medicine I want first,” Seventeenth Young Master replied.
“What is it?” First Madam Cheng asked helplessly.
“A painting,” he said, sitting up in bed, his eyes shining. “A portrait of Jiao Jiao.”
“Jiao Jiao?” First Madam Cheng frowned. “Who is Jiao Jiao?”
“Aunt, the one Fourth Brother painted. His second uncle’s eldest daughter— Jiao-niang’s portrait,” Seventeenth Young Master said.
First Madam Cheng was stunned on the spot.
What?
“What did you say?” she sat bolt upright, shouting.
Jiao-niang’s portrait! That fool’s portrait!
In Cheng Si-lang’s study, the two of them were pacing in circles.
“No, no, even hiding it here won’t do,” Cheng Si-lang said anxiously, taking the scroll down from above the moon gate and speaking with a worried expression.
“Young Master, just burn it,” Chun Lan said, her voice choked with tears.
Yes, burning it would be safest. No matter what anyone said, there would be no evidence.
But…
Cheng Si-lang lowered his head to look at the scroll in his hands.
“She’s still alive. It was already disrespectful of me to paint her—how could I burn it too? Wouldn’t that be like cursing her?” he said, raising his head again, gripping the scroll tightly.
Chun Lan stomped her foot.
“Young Master, this isn’t the time to worry about that,” she said.
She’s just a fool, after all.
Cheng Si-lang said nothing as he clutched the scroll, then suddenly shoved it into Chun Lan’s hands.
“Take it. Send it to Changming. Tell him to keep it safe for me,” he said. “Tell him he’s not allowed to look at it—if he does, we’re finished, no more friendship.”
Chun Lan looked hesitant.
“Hurry,” Cheng Si-lang urged.
Chun Lan answered quickly and turned to leave with the scroll in her arms.
Cheng Si-lang let out a slight sigh of relief and was just about to turn around when he saw Chun Lan backing into the room again.
“You…” he began with a frown, but stopped halfway, his eyes also turning toward the doorway.
Two stewardesses entered the room step by step. One of them extended her hand and took the scroll from Chun Lan’s arms, whose face had gone pale.
“This is the one, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically, and without waiting for a response, turned to Cheng Si-lang with a faint smile. “Fourth Young Master, Madam requests your presence.”
The scroll was slowly unrolled by maids.
In front of First Madam Cheng appeared the image of a young lady—at once unfamiliar yet strangely familiar. Her thoughts involuntarily drifted back to that night when she had followed First Master Cheng the Second Master Cheng toward the gates and saw the lady standing under the lantern light, gradually lifting her veiled hat.
In the flickering glow of the lanterns, the lady’s face was ghostly pale, her eyes vacant, dressed in somber black—a sight so chilling that First Madam Cheng had immediately turned her gaze away and had refused to look again.
However, certain memories are not so easily erased. Long ago, she had been close to this lady. It was in First Madam Cheng’s arms that the lady had cried her first cry; she had been the first to hold her.
Now, amid the disordered sound of approaching footsteps, the woman’s faint yet increasingly anguished voice grew clearer—cutting through both time and pretense.
“Wu-niang, push, push! The child is about to come out…” she gripped the hand of the woman lying on the bed, urging her anxiously.
The young woman on the bed was deathly pale, her whole body drenched as if pulled from water.
“I… I can’t do it anymore…” the young woman cried weakly.
“Don’t talk nonsense! Don’t forget—you’re Ge-niang! A name of weapons and blades—how can you say you can’t? Push!” she shouted, gripping the woman’s hand tightly.
“It’s out!”
With that cry, the young woman fainted, completely drained.
“Madam, Madam—the baby isn’t crying!”
The room descended into chaos. Some rushed to tend to the unconscious woman, while others hovered anxiously around the newborn.
She reached out and took the baby into her arms—without wiping it clean. The child, smeared with blood and grime, was hastily wrapped in a single cloth. Its skin was wrinkled, slick, and mottled with bluish and pale patches.
“Madam—hit it!” the midwife shouted.
Her hand trembled. She grabbed the baby by the feet, held it upside down, and gave it a firm slap.
A thin, cat-like wail pierced the air.
In the blink of an eye, the room had become quiet and warm. Because the woman was in her postpartum confinement, the curtains were drawn around the bed, shielding the doors and windows, letting in only soft, dim light.
“Let me see,” the young woman lying on the bed said weakly, though her smile could not be hidden.
The other woman turned, holding a swaddled infant in her arms.
“She’s very well-behaved,” she said with a smile, kneeling by the bedside and placing the bundle on the bed.
Both women leaned in.
Inside the swaddling cloth, the tiny baby slept soundly with her eyes closed, her little fist—no bigger than a walnut—resting near her ear.
“She’s really ugly,” the young mother said.
“What are you saying! She isn’t ugly at all!” the other woman replied, a bit displeased, though her face was full of affection. She reached out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek. “She is the prettiest.”
The infant’s skin was soft and smooth, and she slept so sweetly that looking at her filled the woman’s heart with joy.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered softly to the young mother. “Now that you have a daughter, a son will come too, won’t he? Father is so happy—he’s been holed up in his study for days, trying to come up with a name for the little girl…”
The young mother smiled, her expression full of both happiness and gratitude.
Incense burned gently in the room. Outside the bed curtains, maids occasionally passed by. The two sisters-in-law leaned close, whispering softly. The infant slept peacefully. Everything was so quiet, so serene—until…
She lowered her head to look at the swaddled baby, and the infant slowly opened its eyes—eyes in which barely any black pupils could be seen.
First Madam Cheng let out a sharp scream.
The two maids before her flinched in fright, their scrolls rustling loudly in their hands.
“Aunt, what’s wrong?”
A young man’s voice asked.
First Madam Cheng clutched her chest, sweeping her gaze around the room.
The doors and windows were wide open, hot summer wind sweeping through. Maids knelt on either side, while two young men sat on either side of her, both looking at her with complex expressions.
“Madam?” a maid asked softly. “This painting…”
First Madam Cheng raised her hand and struck at the painting.
That wretched, cursed creature—why must she continue to haunt the Cheng family?
“Aunt!”
“Mother!”
Two cries rang out in the room, but only one person rushed forward.
“Aunt! Don’t ruin it!” Seventeenth Young Master snatched the painting from the servant’s hands as he shouted.
Cheng Si-lang let out a faint sigh of relief and sat back on his knees properly.
No matter what, as long as the painting was saved, that was enough.
“What are you doing? Tear it up for me!” First Madam Cheng shouted, her brows raised sharply.
But Seventeenth Young Master wasn’t afraid—he grinned mischievously, showing no sign of illness whatsoever.
“Aunt, it would be a real pity to tear up such a good painting,” he said. “Nephew wants it. It’s mine now—you can’t decide what to do with it anymore.”
First Madam Cheng glared in anger, shouting for the maids to take the painting away. The maids lowered their heads and stepped forward.
But Seventeenth Young Master had already rolled up the painting and hidden it away.
“I can’t do anything about you. I’ll have your mother take you back,” First Madam Cheng said, fuming.
Seventeenth Young Master let out a couple of “ow” sounds, holding his head and sitting down on the floor.
“I’m sick, my head hurts,” he said.
First Madam Cheng was startled and quickly rushed to check on him, urging the servants to help him back to his room. Seventeenth Young Master, satisfied, clutched the painting and was assisted out of the room.
First Madam Cheng stood at the door, watching him leave, her face filled with worry.
There were footsteps behind her, and First Madam Cheng turned around.
Cheng Si-lang quickly stopped and lowered his head.
“You’re going to enter the examination next year,” First Madam Cheng said slowly, glancing at Cheng Si-lang with a side look. “I’ll have your father find you a good school. You should go and study well.”
Cheng Si-lang nodded, responding with a quiet “yes.”
In the courtyard, Chun Lan stood, her face pale, and tears could not help but fall from her eyes.
“Why are you crying?” Cheng Si-lang said.
He returned to the study, his expression somewhat relaxed as he looked at Chun Lan, who was sobbing while covering her face.
“I suppose it’ll just be a few more days. You should hurry and pack up the things I’ll need to take,” he said with a smile.
“Young Master…” Chun Lan lowered her head, biting her lip and shedding tears. “It’s just a painting… why does it have to be like this?”
Cheng Si-lang smiled.
“The paintings are all from the heart,” he said, pausing for a moment. “The people raised to this point are also from the heart. Since it’s from the heart, I still hope everything can turn out well.”
Is that fool also from the heart?
Chun Lan’s face was sorrowful, filled with both confusion and sadness. Speaking of the fool, she now wondered how Jin Ge’er was doing.
“Young Master, Madam has always been fond of you, but this time she is truly angry,” she said, choking on her words.
“Mother won’t make things difficult for me. As for finding a school, the best one is naturally Master Jiang-zhou. I’m sure my uncle will write a letter of recommendation. I should be going to the capital,” Cheng Si-lang said, smiling at Chun Lan. “Don’t worry. Without the painting, maybe I’ll be able to see the real person.”
Chun Lan’s face couldn’t help but brighten. That would mean he could see her brother, but soon her expression turned melancholic.
Studying away from home couldn’t compare to being at home. It would be hard and simple; only a young servant could accompany him, not a maid.
“Young Master, please take good care of yourself while you’re away,” she said, choking on her words.
First Madam Cheng sat in the room, drinking tea, but her chest still felt heavy and stuffy.
“Why hasn’t the person come back yet?” she called out. “I have matters here. Have the Master and Second Master come here first. Don’t waste time talking nonsense with the Zhou family. Our own family’s affairs are more important.”
A servant hurriedly responded and went out to inquire. Not long after, she rushed back into the room.
“Madam, Madam, the Second Master and Second Madam have arranged the marriage!” she knelt and said urgently in a low voice.
First Madam Cheng scoffed and laughed.
“Agree to the Zhou family’s marriage arrangement? Even if they were fools, they wouldn’t do that,” she said with a hint of disdain.
“It’s not that,” the servant moved forward one step as she knelt. “The Second Master has arranged the marriage for… that fo… First Lady!”
