Chapter Seven

The stage was set up in the rear courtyard of the Marquis’s residence, built beside the water. As a few people approached, the faint sounds of opera singing could be heard, mingled with a touch of liveliness. It was still early; they had only come out after finishing their midday meal. A gentle breeze brushed past, rippling the water, and sunlight shimmered faintly across the surface.

Madam Gu was already seated there waiting for them. Seeing their arrival, she rose to greet them.

“The sisters-in-law have finally arrived.”

She had only expected members of the Jiang family, but to her surprise, Gu Huai Sheng had come along as well.

She was slightly taken aback and couldn’t help but ask, “Fu Yan, why did you come with your aunts?”

Before Gu Huai Sheng could explain, Madam Jiang’s second wife, Mrs. Lin, spoke up eagerly, “I happened to see Fu Yan returning from outside, so he came along with us.”

Madam Gu nodded, understanding the situation. She turned to her younger son, Gu Huai Lang, who was playing with a puzzle beside her, and said, “Xiao Lang, come and pay your respects.”

Madam Gu had two children: Gu Huai Sheng, now twenty-one, and Gu Huai Lang, only six years old. The age gap between them was more than a full cycle. Recently, Gu Huai Lang had caught a cold, and to avoid infecting the old madam, he had not accompanied them to the Jiang family. Now that he had recovered, he was back by Madam Gu’s side, so there was no harm in facing outsiders.

Since Gu Huai Lang was too young to understand the opera, he sat quietly on the side, fiddling with a wooden puzzle.

He bore no resemblance to Madam Gu nor to his father, Marquis Gu, but oddly resembled his elder brother, with whom he was not close. The elder and younger brothers seemed carved from the same mold.

Hearing Madam Gu’s words, Gu Huai Lang obediently stepped forward to bow before the others, politely addressing them as “Aunts” and “Cousins.” When he came to Gu Huai Sheng, however, he hesitated, reluctant to speak. Only after Madam Gu’s stern glance did he reluctantly approach and call him “Elder Brother.”

Gu Huai Sheng glanced at him but showed no intention of making a fuss. He merely muttered “Hmm” and looked away.

Madam Gu then beckoned everyone to take their seats.

Though the two Jiang family ladies present were family, they were still considered guests. They sat to Madam Gu’s left and right, while Jiang Jing Chun and Jiang Jing Fang sat beside their mother. Gu Huai Lang sat on a small stool in front of Madam Gu.

Seeing the empty seat near Jiang Jing Fang, Gu Huai Sheng moved to sit there. Just as he was about to lift his robe and take the seat, a voice rang out, “Cousin, sit here with me.”

The voice carried a trace of urgency, as if fearing someone might snatch something away. It was loud enough to drown out the faint opera singing, reaching Gu Huai Sheng’s ears clearly.

Everyone turned to look at the speaker, Jiang Jing Chun.

There was no avoiding it; Jiang Jing Chun simply couldn’t bear to see Gu Huai Sheng sitting alongside Jiang Jing Fang. She had made the arduous trip to the Gu family just to catch more glimpses of him.

If he sat too far from her, how could she see him?

Noticing the puzzled looks around her and Gu Huai Sheng’s slightly furrowed brow, Jiang Jing Chun realized how odd her behavior appeared. Though she had often indulged in such unorthodox actions before—like insisting Gu Huai Sheng accompany her—now she wanted to behave more properly in his presence.

Mrs. Lin inwardly sneered. Earlier, at the gate, she had still been able to maintain her act, but in just a short while, her true colors had been revealed.

Jiang Jing Fang, disliking her sister’s shameless behavior as if Gu Huai Sheng belonged solely to her, bluntly said, “Cousin can sit wherever he pleases. What business is it of yours?”

Jiang Jing Chun ignored her sister’s retort, fearing Gu Huai Sheng would refuse her invitation. Hastily, she explained, “I’ve been learning a bit about tea ceremonies at Grandmother’s lately. I heard Cousin is quite skilled in tea arts too, so I wanted you to try some. I mean no other intent…”

Her tone carried a hint of urgency, afraid he might misunderstand her.

Her true intentions were written all over her face, yet she still claimed otherwise.

What a little liar.

In the end, he agreed. A faint curve appeared at the corners of his lips—so slight it was almost imperceptible—before he turned to the servant and ordered, “Bring a tea set.”

Then he sat beside Jiang Jing Chun, his eyes impassive and spotless, fixed on the opera stage as if utterly absorbed in the performance.

They sat rather close, separated only by a small square table. Jiang Jing Chun wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she thought she caught a faint scent of blood.

She dismissed it as a misperception and didn’t dwell on it. When the tea set arrived, she quietly began preparing the tea.

At first, everyone thought she was joking, but watching her skillfully grind the tea powder, it became clear she had learned much during her time with the old madam.

Jiang Jing Chun busied herself dutifully. From Mrs. Li’s direction, one could only see her focused profile. Mrs. Li remained silent, watching her without a word, thoughts unknown.

Her child seemed to have truly grown up.

Perhaps she had done so long ago.

Yet the feeling didn’t bring much comfort; she still preferred her as she once was—naive and helpless, always by her side.

Lost in thought, Madam Gu’s voice beside her broke the silence, “Sisters-in-law, how do you find today’s opera?”

Mrs. Li returned to listening, but soon sensed something unusual. “Aruo, where did you find this troupe? They’re quite impressive.”

Mrs. Li came from a noble family, accustomed to refined entertainments, so she immediately understood why Madam Gu asked.

In earlier years, most people enjoyed Kunshan opera. Later, a remarkable figure reformed the style, making it softer, more melodious, and captivating. This new style, called “Ink Wash Tone,” became wildly popular, spreading across the land and favored by the nobility.

Madam Gu said, “This troupe was personally arranged by Mr. Wei, who spent a fortune bringing them all the way from Taicang. No other performers compare.”

Mrs. Lin, having listened for some time without noticing anything amiss, now understood. She forced a laugh and chimed in, “Madam has exquisite taste. Only the best troupes for you.”

Though meant as praise, her tone carried a hint of bitterness.

Sure enough, Madam Gu’s expression darkened slightly. Mrs. Li sipped her tea calmly and remarked, “If everyone were like you, that would be a disaster.”

Mrs. Lin’s face turned pale with anger, about to retort, but Madam Gu cut her off quietly.

“In a few days, it will be Mother’s sixtieth birthday. This troupe was intended as a gift for her. Today I invited the sisters-in-law to see if they find it suitable. If not, I will ask Fu Yan to find another. Since you all approve, I will arrange for them to perform at the Jiang residence.”

So that was the reason.

No wonder Gu Huai Sheng had come along; otherwise, given his temperament, he would hardly enjoy such music and theatrics.

Grand Madam Jiang’s sixtieth birthday fell on the eighteenth day of the fourth month—a significant milestone requiring grand celebration. Mrs. Li had been busy arranging everything.

Jiang Jing Chun paid no attention to the conversation, nor could she focus on the delicate “Ink Wash Tone” opera. Her expression was intent as she worked on the tea. When focused, her round eyes sparkled softly, as if engaged in a momentous task.

Having finally mastered these skills, she naturally wished to show off in front of her cousin.

Halfway through the performance, she pushed the tea cup toward him and called out, “Cousin, I’m done. Please taste it.”

Hearing her voice, Gu Huai Sheng shifted his gaze from the stage to the cup before him.

He fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.

Jiang Jing Chun could no longer hear the surrounding sounds. The opera’s melodies entered one ear and escaped the other. Nervously, she watched him.

She saw him gather his sleeve, then lift the cup.

His long, straight fingers looked even more graceful against the cup’s backdrop, like polished white jade. The pale skin revealed faint blue veins beneath, their tautness brimming with energy.

Jiang Jing Chun was about to ask how he liked the tea, but her gaze was drawn to a splash of red on his sleeve. Her words caught in her throat.

On Gu Huai Sheng’s sleeve was a glaring red stain. Specks of blood were conspicuous against his pristine white robe. She had not noticed until he raised the cup to drink.

Thus, the strong scent of blood she’d sensed earlier was not her imagination—it came from him.

Gu Huai Sheng noticed her startled look but paid it no mind.

He slowly lowered the cup; the tea left a faint, pleasant aftertaste.

His skill had indeed improved since before.

In the past, the Jiang household had caretakers who tutored the young ladies in virtues and arts, with tea ceremonies among the essentials.

But when Jiang Jing Chun was twelve or thirteen, spoiled by Mrs. Li, she was restless and inattentive, unable to sit still. Always running about, she learned nothing properly. The caretakers, out of respect for Mrs. Li, dared not discipline her and could only watch her waste her time.

Once, during a tea ceremony lesson in the rear garden, Jiang Run Chu and Gu Huai Sheng happened to pass by. Jiang Jing Fang insisted they try the teas made by the young ladies to judge which was best.

Bored, Jiang Run Chu stayed and tasted several, except Jiang Jing Chun’s. He refused hers outright.

He knew well what she was like. Her tea was so bad it might as well have been dishwater; no one could drink it.

Seeing Jiang Run Chu’s stubborn refusal, Jiang Jing Chun brought the tea to Gu Huai Sheng, blinking pitifully. “Cousin Gu, Brother refuses my tea. Will you drink it?”

Gu Huai Sheng guessed why Jiang Run Chu refused, but perhaps moved by her pitiful expression, he drank the cup of dubious tea.

He was prepared, but evidently not enough.

It was dry, harsh, and difficult to swallow.

Gu Huai Sheng was particular about food and drink. Taken by surprise, his brow furrowed tightly. Back then, he was still a youth, brimming with vigor, and almost wanted to turn away and spit out the dishwater.

But seeing Jiang Jing Chun’s earnest, hopeful eyes—her amber pupils sparkling in sunlight—he swallowed it down.

If not for her sincere gaze, he would have thought she was teasing him.

After all, mischievous children often liked to play pranks.

That tea upset him for a whole day, and Jiang Run Chu teased him mercilessly for three days after.

The voice in front of him brought Gu Huai Sheng back to the present.

Jiang Jing Chun did not ask about the tea’s taste. Instead, her voice was hoarse as she asked, “Cousin, why is there blood on your sleeve...?”

Gu Huai Sheng glanced at his sleeve, seeing several dried bloodstains, rusty in color.

Jiang Jing Chun looked uneasy, but he seemed indifferent.

“I just returned from the metropolitan censorate’s jail.”

Returned from jail? And with blood on him?

“Were you conducting an interrogation?” Jiang Jing Chun was surprised that Gu Huai Sheng still used torture instruments.

Perhaps his radiant, virtuous appearance made it hard to imagine him involved in such grim affairs.

Gu Huai Sheng looked at Jiang Jing Chun, his dark eyes carrying a faint smile.

He said, “Yes, it was an interrogation. There are always some uncooperative people at the censorate who refuse to speak the truth. Without force, their mouths won’t open. I was there barely a short incense stick’s time before he started talking. I used a bit too much strength and got some blood on me.”

So the blood was that of the prisoner.

This seemed the first time he had spoken so frankly to her, his tone so casual, as though describing the most ordinary thing.

Jiang Jing Chun was momentarily speechless, staring unblinking at his face, bathed in gentle spring light. She could just make out his long eyelashes.

After a long pause, she finally found her voice. She looked at him and asked, “Cousin, are you trying to scare me?”