After the New Year, before the fifteenth day of the first month, Jiang Su was betrothed to Chen Zhun—the eldest son of Grand Commandant Chen—following the same path as her previous life. For now, she remained in seclusion, preparing for her wedding.
Grand Commandant Chen’s late father had been a founding hero alongside the late emperor. By his generation, he still held immense power and prestige, with many disciples and followers in the court. In his old age, he had only one son—who had been struck with a fever in childhood and left with the mind of a simpleton. At twenty-nine, he remained unmarried. Marrying Jiang Su to him was both a gesture of alliance and a means of appeasement.
The Empress remained still, likely intending to use this marriage to win Chen’s support for Jiang Xian.
In her past life, Jiang Nong had assumed Jiang Su was being forced into this. Only in this life did she realize that Jiang Su had deliberately sought out Chen Zhun. Jiang Su had always been decisive and refused to be a mere pawn—so she had walked into the game herself, taking control.
Jiang Nong chose to stay silent on this matter. Based on her experience from her past life, all her brothers combined couldn’t match Jiang Su’s breadth of vision and skill.
Jiang Ying was rash, Jiang Biao cowardly, Jiang Qi venomous, Jiang Xian foolish, Jiang Tiao jealous—and the younger ones were even less worth mentioning, none of them appearing fit to rule.
With Jiang Su occupied with wedding preparations and Jiang Miao with no one else to turn to, she followed Jiang Nong around like a shadow. Jiang Nong acted as a bridge, drawing Jiang Miao and Jiang Yuan together. Mediating between them, she brought these two who had rarely interacted into a gradual familiarity. Jiang Miao even discovered that Jiang Yuan wasn’t as terrifying as she had imagined, and occasionally they exchanged a few lighthearted words.
Jiang Nong also brought Yu Lingxin into the fold. To keep him from being the odd man out among her sisters, she deliberately pulled Jiang Xian in as well.
Though Jiang Xian still looked down on Yu Lingxin, he had no one else in the entire Xi royal palace who would help him with his studies. His mother, the Empress, had high expectations for him, hoping he would inherit the throne, and often struck his palms for poor performance. So he reluctantly followed Jiang Nong.
Under Jiang Nong’s care, this little group surprisingly grew warm and harmonious.
She had done it all for Yu Lingxin’s sake—this whole platter of dumplings was for him.
She was trying to change Yu Lingxin’s situation in the palace, help him integrate into the group, stop him from being ostracized, and help him experience genuine human connection—goodness, kindness, beauty—so he might feel something, be inspired toward the good.
Jiang Nong believed that only those who received kindness would think to return it. If all one ever received was malice, even a good person would become twisted.
At least for now, the progress was remarkably visible. Jiang Nong had even made a little notebook to track his progress. This month alone, Yu Lingxin had fed stray cats in Yong Lane thirteen times, greeted others first ten times, and tutored Jiang Xian six times…
Most people were bullies who feared the strong. With Yu Lingxin now close to Jiang Yuan, Jiang Nong, and Jiang Xian—the emperor’s favorite daughter, the Empress Dowager’s favorite granddaughter, and the Empress’s own son, the most likely heir—his standing had naturally risen. No one at the academy dared bully him as openly as before.
Wen Zuhuan rolled his eyes so hard they nearly disappeared, but he no longer dared to curse or strike as he once had. He could only sneer: “A mangy dog remains a mangy dog—lucky enough to win someone’s pity for a moment, but that doesn’t make him a tiger, nor fit to stand alongside men.”
Yu Lingxin simply endured it with good temper. Jiang Nong rolled up a bamboo scroll and raised it as if to strike Wen Zuhuan: “Then I’d say nothing good ever comes out of a dog’s mouth either.”
Furious, Wen Zuhuan’s face reddened with rage: “My mother is your uncle’s cousin! We’ve known each other since we were kids! Why do you always hit me for him? Can’t I say one word about him?”
Jiang Nong’s ears were calloused from that line. She grabbed Yu Lingxin and swept away: “Then I truly wish my aunt and uncle would divorce soon.”
At that, Wen Zuhuan kicked over a row of nearby desks in a fury.
Jiang Su had accepted her marriage with composure. Her ladies-in-waiting, however, couldn’t help feeling dissatisfied—Jiang Nong had always been close with Jiang Su, yet now that Jiang Su was being married to a fool for Jiang Xian’s sake, Jiang Nong had turned around and become friendly with Jiang Xian instead.
Jiang Su quietly inventoried her dowry list, her cool, handsome face betraying no emotion. A single glance from her was enough to make her attendants retreat, swallowing their complaints.
Jiang Xian was too stupid to amount to anything. Jiang Nong’s willingness to include him was only to elevate Yu Lingxin.
Whatever Jiang Nong did, Jiang Su couldn’t quite understand it—yet it always seemed to make a certain kind of sense. The two of them had always been complete opposites in temperament.
At least Jiang Su’s every action was rooted in careful, rational calculation aimed at maximum gain. Unless necessary, she wouldn’t waste time on those beneath her. Jiang Nong, on the other hand, was too easily swayed by emotion, too indecisive, constantly missing opportunities. Jiang Su didn’t know where she got such an abundance of feeling to sustain her compassion for the poor and weak.
In short, Jiang Su didn’t understand—but she knew Yu Lingxin had struck it lucky, earning the pity of her foolish, compassionate little sister, who was going to such lengths to build him such a grand stage.
Jiang Nong occasionally wrote to Chao Ning, updating him on her progress.
Her words could only be described as brimming with optimism.
Chao Ning was the type to blossom with the slightest encouragement—boundlessly confident. Naturally, his replies were even more jubilant, practically beating drums and gongs in celebration as he envisioned a bright future. Receiving such letters only boosted Jiang Nong’s confidence further.
And so, spurring each other on, encouraging—even fooling—each other, they passed through winter and into early spring. The willows sprouted tender shoots, early orioles sang on the branches, Jiang Su was married off with much fanfare—and Jiang Nong’s seventeenth birthday arrived.
Jiang Nong had not bowed to Lady Jieyu or made the first move toward reconciliation, and Lady Jieyu did not believe parents should have to bow to their children. Besides, her daughter had always been filial and considerate, not the ruthless type who would abandon her mother. So for this birthday, she did not go out of her way—though she did carefully select a gift from her private treasury.
Jiang Nong could tell the gift was thoughtfully chosen, but she had no intention of being the one to bridge the gap.
The Empress Dowager had granted her a special favor. Jiang Nong used it to petition on Jiang Yuan’s behalf: to have Xifeng released from palace service and sent to join the Fu family army to seek military distinction.
The Fu clan had risen through military merit in earlier days, but in recent years their numbers had dwindled, with no promising talent among the younger generation. Xifeng needed a launching pad; the Fu family needed a good prospect to cultivate. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
With military merit and the Fu family’s backing, and as long as Lady Li had not yet fallen from favor, Jiang Yuan’s marriage could be delayed another two years—avoiding the fate of her previous life.
The Empress Dowager summoned Xifeng for an inspection and was greatly pleased after several rounds of assessment.
Jiang Yuan had stubbornly tagged along, twisting her handkerchief in the corner, radiating the reluctant reluctance of a young girl parting from her beloved. The Empress Dowager’s gaze shifted; she seemed to grasp the situation. After everyone had left, she took Jiang Nong’s hand, patted it with a sigh, and tears rolled from her clouded eyes like broken strings. She held Jiang Nong close, stroking her with affection and tenderness.
“My good child.”
Jiang Nong knew the Empress Dowager was seeing Jiang Niao in her again.
The older the Empress Dowager grew, the deeper her longing for her daughter became—to the point of obsession. She withdrew to pray and seek peace with ever-increasing frequency. Since Jiang Nong had gained so much from the Empress Dowager, she naturally had to play her part well, to comfort the grieving heart of a mother who had lost her child.
Jiang Nong hugged the Empress Dowager back, patting her back gently, offering silent comfort.
Before long, the Empress Dowager fell asleep in her arms. Eunuch Wei carefully led the attendants to help her to the couch, signaling to Jiang Nong that she could leave quietly—lest she wake and be stirred to more sorrow.
Jiang Nong’s birthday banquet was held at Penglai Pavilion. No one in the palace truly had a grudge against her. All her brothers and sisters who could come, along with the noble children who studied at the academy, attended. The area around Penglai Pavilion was a stretch of lush green meadow. The feast included games of pitch-pot, archery, and riddle-guessing. At the Empress Dowager’s request, the Court of the Imperial Treasury had even brought in court entertainers. The event was packed with guests and brimming with liveliness.
Even Wen Zuhuan showed up. He looked as if he had deliberately dressed up—tall hat, heavily embroidered robes. In the third month of spring, he was as elaborately attired as if attending the New Year’s banquet, with a black jade thumb ring on his thumb, hands clasped behind his back. Stand there like that, he did cut a rather handsome figure.
He adjusted his hat with both hands, looked around, and spotted Yu Lingxin in a corner—being pestered by Jiang Xian to accompany him in archery. He swept his gaze from bottom to top and revealed a smug, satisfied smile. The other was still as shabby as ever.
Carrying his gift box, Wen Zuhuan strode over to Jiang Nong and handed it to her: “Happy birthday.”
Jiang Nong found it remarkable—for once, a dog’s mouth had produced ivory.
Wen Zuhuan flexed his arms, straightened his sleeves, adjusted his sword, flicked his jade pendants, and puffed out his chest: “How do I look?”
Jiang Nong’s expression was hard to read. A foppish scion suddenly acting proper looked to her like a dog trying to wear sheepskin. She tugged at the corner of her mouth and threw him a bone: “Passable. Heroic and striking.”
Wen Zuhuan could barely contain himself—his grin nearly split his face. See? He, the sole grandson of the Marquis of Huaiyin, could not possibly lose to some mongrel from the countryside. Just look—he had only dressed up a little today, and Jiang Nong was already so impressed. Clearly, his charm was irresistible.
“I knew it!” Wen Zuhuan said smugly, raising his hand to stop Jiang Nong, as if he had more to say.
A sharp whistle cut through the air from afar—a white-feathered arrow shot straight through Wen Zuhuan’s ostentatious tall hat, sending it askew. He yelped and fell flat on his backside, trembling, his face the color of a withered vegetable—utterly humiliated, all his bravado gone.
In the distance, Jiang Xian ripped off the blindfold over his eyes and shouted: “Did I shoot? Did I hit something?”
Yu Lingxin twirled a white-feathered arrow lightly between his index and middle fingers. He tilted his chin slightly in Wen Zuhuan’s direction and said, his tone full of pity, his brows furrowed with concern: “Your Highness, shooting blindfolded is far too dangerous—you nearly harmed Young Master Wen.”
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