The Eldest Daughter-in-Law [Reborn] - Chapter 123

Xia An was reluctant—this lantern, crafted from purple sandalwood, had eight embroidered panels. Pressing a small mechanism on the handle caused the panels to rotate, the tassels swaying in unison. The cascading embroidery unfurled like a celestial river spilling forth five-colored light.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

But since Xie Yunchu had spoken, Xia An dared not disobey. She took the lantern outside and handed it to a servant, instructing him to throw it into the river.

The servant, awestruck by the lantern’s exquisite craftsmanship, suspected that his mistress was merely upset with the Young Master and hesitated to truly dispose of it. So, he took it to the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper, assuming it was indeed a gift from Wang Shuhuai, offered his own advice.

“Wait a bit. Young couples quarrel at the head of the bed and reconcile at the foot. This must be a small spat. If the mistress is feeling upset, let her be for now. But she might ask for this lantern again later. Just store it in the warehouse and tell her it’s been thrown away. If she never asks for it in a month, then you can get rid of it.”

The servant found the shopkeeper’s words quite reasonable.

It wasn’t until a month later that Wang Shuhuai learned of the incident.

On the day he left the capital, he had unfinished business to tend to, so he had instructed his guard, Qi Wei, to stay behind. It was only a month later that Qi Wei finally arrived in Jinling.

During that time, Wang Shuhuai had been overwhelmingly busy.

Upon his arrival, he did not immediately initiate sweeping reforms but instead spent his days tirelessly socializing with Jiangnan officials, gradually familiarizing himself with the various channels of power. The Jin Dynasty operated under a dual-capital system, and Jinling also housed six government ministries. The land survey and population census were jointly overseen by the Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, Liu Qiliang, and the Nanjing Minister of Revenue.

Liu Qiliang held the true authority, while the Nanjing Minister of Revenue was merely a figurehead.

Though his position was nominal, the minister was highly esteemed—a seventy-year-old veteran official known for his unwavering idealism. He was determined to reform the government’s laxity and corruption and was widely regarded as a just and noble official.

Wang Shuhuai laid out his entire vision before the minister, who readily gave his full support.

In the days that followed, Wang Shuhuai split his time between attending banquets with Liu Qiliang in Nanjing’s political circles and accompanying the old minister on inspections of Suzhou and Hangzhou. By then, he had gained a comprehensive understanding of Jiangnan’s situation.

He had worked himself to the brink, with barely a moment to rest.

On the night of August 14th, after yet another banquet, Wang Shuhuai returned home.

The dim lantern light barely illuminated the corner of the stone path.

Having drunk quite a bit, Wang Shuhuai stood by the path to cool off, supported by his attendant, Ming Gui.

The residence belonged to the Grand Princess—a modest three-courtyard estate in Jiangnan. It was usually cared for by an elderly couple who handled cooking and cleaning. Wang Shuhuai resided in the study at the front courtyard.

To the southwest of the study stood a bamboo grove. Now, in the autumn chill, the leaves had fallen, and the bamboo stood withered. As Wang Shuhuai stepped onto the scattered leaves, they crunched softly beneath his feet, the only sound in the silent night.

That grove bore an uncanny resemblance to the one outside Chunjing Hall in the capital.

Wang Shuhuai paused on the stone path, momentarily lost in thought.

Suddenly, the clouds broke, revealing the moon in all its brilliance. The vast moonlight poured down, casting an icy sheen over his figure, making his presence even more imposing.

He could not remember how long it had been since he last thought of her—only that, on rare occasions, fleeting images of her surfaced in his dreams. But when he awoke, he had no time to dwell on them before hurrying to court.

That night, however, whether due to the alcohol or the sudden flood of moonlight, something stirred in his memory. Wang Shuhuai’s eyes remained fixed on the depths of the stone path as he softly asked Ming Gui, “Any news from the capital?”

Ming Gui was puzzled. “Are you asking about the Duke? The Duke sends reports every three days to keep you informed of court affairs. Oh, and the Madam and Master miss you dearly. They sent a few letters, which are in the study. You’ve been too busy to read them. Would you like me to fetch them?”

Wang Shuhuai felt as though a thin thread had wrapped around his heart, tugging at it gently—slowly, painfully.

He shook his head and, leaning on Ming Gui’s arm, crossed the stone path toward the study.

Upon reaching the moon gate, he saw a familiar figure leaning against the threshold, a sword in his arms. It was Qi Wei, who had finally arrived from the capital.

Ming Gui brightened at the sight of him. “Qi Wei! You’re finally here! Oh, by the way, did  my wife send anything with you?”

Qi Wei tossed a bundle to him without much expression. “Your wife said that if you dare act up in Jiangnan, you’ll be coming home to kneel on the washboard.”

Ming Gui clutched the bundle, his eyes misting. He inhaled the familiar scent and choked up.

“That foolish woman… As if I’d ever go looking for other women. Would I even have the time?”

By the end of his sentence, his voice carried a tinge of grievance, his heart full of bittersweet affection.

Qi Wei paid his respects to Wang Shuhuai with a bow.

“Young Master, I have carried out your orders without fail.”

Under the cold, clear moonlight, the young man stood tall in his cyan official robes, exuding a noble and dignified air. His arms hung loosely at his sides, his face devoid of emotion as he regarded Qi Wei. After a moment, he uttered a single low, husky word—”Good.”

Then, his sharp gaze swept past the bundle in Ming Gui’s hands and landed on Qi Wei.

“Nothing else?”

Qi Wei was momentarily baffled. “What?”

Wang Shuhuai’s brows furrowed slightly, his patience wearing thin. “Did my wife leave any message?”

Qi Wei recalled that before he left the capital, he had sought out Xie Yunchu, asking if she had any clothing or other items to send to Wang Shuhuai. Xie Yunchu had smiled gently and said, “I’ve already prepared dozens of sets of clothing for him beforehand. He has more than enough to wear. The Grand Duke also personally gave him five thousand taels in silver notes. He will not lack food or clothing, so I have no worries.”

Qi Wei shook his head.

“Madam said you have everything you need, and there is nothing she must prepare.”

Wang Shuhuai did not ask further. He turned and stepped into his cold, empty study, sitting alone in the dim room. Ming Gui, still grinning, followed him in, preparing to light the lamps. But Wang Shuhuai, sitting in the shadows, spoke softly, “There’s no need.”

Ming Gui hesitated. It was rare for him to read Wang Shuhuai’s emotions, but he did not press the matter. He glanced at the bundle in his arms and chuckled.

“Second Young Master, I’d like to step out for a moment to put this away.”

In truth, he was eager to check whether his wife had included a letter or some other token for him.

Even though he couldn’t see Ming Gui’s expression, the lightness in his voice—his quiet joy and anticipation—was unmistakable.