That voice belonged to Qian Liniang. Qian Jiaoniang’s brows furrowed at once. She had not seen her for a long time—what new play was she acting now?
“Madam, from the sound, it seems to be Second Madam,” Yanluo said hesitantly, glancing at Qian Jiaoniang. She did not know why Qian Liniang had angered Qian Jiaoniang before, such that she had been swiftly expelled from the Marquis’s residence and never granted another audience.
“Mm.” Qian Jiaoniang’s expression was unreadable. She could not fathom how Qian Liniang dared to do something as outrageous as stopping her carriage. Did she truly think herself justified? Qian Jiaoniang did not want to deal with her, but in broad daylight on the street, if she left coldly, gossip would surely spread through every alley.
Outside, Qian Liniang, hearing no reply, once again broke into sobs: “Third Sister, Third Sister, I beg you, show mercy and meet Second Sister! Second Sister truly has urgent matters to seek you for, or I would not dare block your carriage!”
Yanluo grew angry hearing this. Second Madam’s words sounded pitiable, but in fact they were meant to force Madam into embarrassment under the public gaze!
Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes grew colder. She said to Yanluo, “You go down and take a look.”
Chunwu lifted the curtain so Yanluo could step out. At once the scene outside came into view. Qian Jiaoniang cast a glance at the pitiful figure clinging to the carriage’s side—it was indeed Qian Liniang. But what caught her eye next, behind Qian Liniang, was the pushcart. At that instant, her ears roared as though thunder had struck.
On the cart lay an old woman clothed in patched garments. Her hair was dry and yellow, her face gaunt and aged. On that sallow face, her lips were pale and deathlike. In the blazing summer heat, her arms were drawn up into her sleeves, trembling with cold. Qian Jiaoniang tried to look more closely, but Yanluo’s figure as she stepped down from the carriage blocked her view.
Waves of turmoil surged through the calm sea of her heart. That woman’s appearance was far from the one in Qian Jiaoniang’s memories. But she could still recognize her. That was her mother.
She froze in place. Chunwu lowered the curtain and noticed her strangeness. She asked uneasily, “Madam, what is it?”
Qian Jiaoniang did not answer. She pressed her lips together and lifted the gauze curtain again. Behind the cart stood an old man, dark-skinned, his face lined with years, and beside him a slightly plump, fair-faced youth shifting uneasily. That was her father—and her younger brother.
Qian Jiaoniang gripped the curtain tightly.
Since acknowledging Qian Liniang, she had never once asked about her parents’ situation. Toward them, Qian Jiaoniang bore little hatred, but her heart could not be at peace. Every child hopes to be their parents’ treasure, yet her parents abandoned her for the sake of her brother. That wound was carved forever into her heart.
She had imagined one day seeing her parents again, but never in such a way.
Yanluo soon returned. Qian Jiaoniang withdrew her gaze. Seeing the faint hesitation in Yanluo’s eyes, she softly called, “Madam.”
Qian Jiaoniang closed her eyes briefly. “First take the sick one to the rear carriage. Whatever needs to be said, we’ll speak of it back at the residence.”
“Yes.”
On the way, Qian Jiaoniang learned from Yanluo the reason behind Qian Liniang’s interception.
Mother Qian had fallen gravely ill for reasons unknown. Father Qian had no silver to treat her, and so he and his son decided to push her cart all the way to Yuzhou. They thought to ask Qian Liniang, who had become a concubine to a wealthy household, for money. But Qian Liniang said that the Sun family, knowing of her enmity with Qian Jiaoniang, had already cold-shouldered her; her private savings were nearly gone. She had sent people to the Marquis’s residence to seek an audience, but never gained entrance. Fearing her mother’s condition worsening, she had no choice but to block the carriage.
Qian Jiaoniang said little. She ordered that Mother Qian be taken into the Marquis’s residence and summoned Doctor Bai to treat her.
Father Qian, Qian Dafu, and his son Qian Baogui cowered timidly in the guest hall. In all their lives, they had never entered such a grand household. They had thought the village head was already a great official, the county magistrate even more so. Never had they imagined they would step into a general’s residence. Even if invited as hired laborers, they would have felt unworthy. As they walked in, they did not dare lift their heads, hardly dared to breathe. Any servant boy or maid they saw, they mistook for young masters or mistresses, bowing and scraping.
Now seated in the hall, the father and son nearly forgot about Mother Qian inside. Though they dared not move recklessly, their eyes wandered everywhere, dazzled by the grandeur, the scent of incense. It felt like an immortal realm. Never could they have imagined—the mistress of this Marquis’s household was none other than Old Qian’s third daughter.
Qian Baogui stared at the gold, silver, and jade displayed on the treasure shelves by the wall, his voice trembling as he whispered: “Dad, we’re not dreaming, are we?”
