Chapter 20: A Bit Too Lively

"What does Mother mean?" Qian Fangguan asked, not quite following.

"If I had brought the child back quietly, no one outside would know you had added a daughter to your household. If we were to take the child in later, it would be without legitimate standing. We must establish the child's status and announce it to the world; that is the proper way," Old Madam Qian said with great insight.

"Mother is right," Qian Shijiang agreed readily.

"Then let it be as Mother says," Concubine Qian nodded, though she worried that Ba Yanhuan might be displeased. Yet, upon further reflection, she knew that if it were his mother proposing it, he would certainly not dare to object.

Three days later, the Ba household held a grand "Three-Day Ceremony" for their newest member, the ninth young lady, Ba Yunjiao. At the celebratory banquet, amidst the clinking of glasses and the merry chatter of guests, everyone wore a pleasant mask. Behind those polite veneers, no one could discern another's true thoughts.

Take, for instance, the mistress of the house, First Madam Lian Yanru, who sat in the seat of honor. She was poised, dignified, and restrained, her every movement showing the grace befitting the lady of the manor. Everyone praised her, saying that, as the granddaughter of a Grand Councilor, her upbringing was truly impeccable, and that Master Ba was indeed fortunate to have such a wife.

Lian Yanru wore a spring-breeze smile, appearing perfectly proper, while her heart seethed with bitter resentment. The zongzi that Qian Fangguan had eaten on the Dragon Boat Festival had indeed been tampered with. In fact, ever since Qian Fangguan had conceived the child now being celebrated, her daily meals had been laced with subtle toxins. The dosages were so minute that even the finest physicians would struggle to detect them.

Initially, when the pregnancy was early, Lian Yanru had hoped for a quiet miscarriage. After all, Qian Fangguan had always been frail; a miscarriage would hardly be considered unusual. But perhaps the dosage was insufficient, for the pregnancy had dragged on for over seven months, and yet there was still no movement from Pianxian Pavilion—the child remained safely tucked away in her womb.

Unable to wait any longer, Lian Yanru had simply added a large amount of "red sap" to the zongzi, masking it with the flavor of honey. If fate was so kind that the child had survived such prolonged poisoning, she would force a hemorrhage and ensure both mother and child perished. However, she did not do this herself. In this deep, hidden residence, there was no shortage of concubines, and fools were plentiful; any of them could be used as a tool. Lian Yanru was calculating and meticulous. She had even personally sent people to find a Taoist priest in advance, specifically to guard against the possibility that Qian Fangguan’s luck might hold and she would successfully give birth.

As it turned out, one must always look three steps ahead. Her foresight proved correct: the concubine surnamed Qian was indeed incredibly lucky. To have successfully birthed a living infant despite everything was enough to command a begrudging respect.

She had originally intended to send the sickly infant away. Without proper care, the child would surely have died within days. Concubine Qian was weak and had suffered injuries during childbirth; if the child had died, she would undoubtedly have been devastated, and one so overcome with grief would likely not live long either. This plan was perfect and, throughout the process, not a single step had gone wrong.

However, for all her calculations, she had failed to account for the Qian family. She had not anticipated that Old Madam Qian would take the child back. She had realized by now that as long as Old Madam Qian lived, Qian Fangguan could not die—at least, not by her design. Otherwise, the old hag might lose her mind and, in her madness, ruin Ba Yanhuan, and then everything would be lost.

After the banquet, Old Madam Qian took Yunjiao back with her. But less than half a year later, tragedy struck Qian Shijiang, and the Old Master Qian fell severely ill. The two elders were taken to Laizhou, and Yunjiao naturally went with them.

...

Lost in these memories, Yunjiao felt a heavy gloom and sighed softly.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Yunjiao looked up to see her second aunt, Madam Ding, lifting the curtain and stepping in, followed by a wet nurse. Madam Ding was over forty, dressed in a dark green quju robe with a sliver of white silk peeking from the hem. She wore pink square-toed embroidered shoes, and her hair was adorned with a golden coronet, with various brightly colored flowers tucked behind her temples. While she looked bedizened with jewels and silks, the overall effect was rather incongruous.

Yunjiao blinked, finding a perfectly fitting phrase to describe her second aunt's attire: "the sudden riches of the poor." Madam Ding came from a humble, impoverished background and was barely literate. At that time, the Qian family had not yet gone into business, and their circumstances were only slightly better than hers—naturally, not by much—so it was considered a marriage of social equals. Now that she was wealthy, she didn't know how to dress herself; she simply believed that wearing every piece of clothing and jewelry that caught her eye was the way to display her status.

Her left hand was different from others; she was missing a thumb. It was said that when she was a child, her older sister had failed to look after her, and she had wandered off to a pigsty where a pig had bitten it off. She had bled profusely, and her family had assumed she wouldn't survive. Unexpectedly, she was blessed with great luck and had escaped death. As the saying goes, "He who survives a great disaster is destined for future fortune." Her parents and elders, hoping she would grow up healthy and lively and suffer no more, gave her a nickname after the incident: "Qin Ji'er" (Chicken-Catcher).

When Yunjiao first heard her second aunt's nickname, she had laughed for half a day. Even now, she found it amusing; the name was a bit too "lively." If one were to be pedantic, Yunjiao had a small doubt: since it was a pig that had bitten her finger, she should be "Pig-Catcher" instead. The origin of the name was truly curious.

Seeing Madam Ding enter, Yunjiao resumed her usual obedient demeanor, smiling and bowing. "Greetings, Second Aunt."

Madam Ding did not bother to greet Old Madam Qian, but sat straight down on a chair nearby. Just as she was about to speak, she saw the mess on the floor and stood up again, making a scene. "My goodness! Such good food, why is it all on the floor? Wasting such fine meals, the God of Thunder will strike you down for this!"

Just as Yunjiao was about to speak, Nurse Li, fearing Yunjiao would be caught in the crossfire, stepped forward quickly and preempted her: "Second Madam, the Old Madam knocked it over by accident."

"Ah! What kind of madness has seized her now? We serve her big fish and meat, and she knocks over the table, spilling all these good things and breaking the dishes! Wasting things like this, she shouldn't be fed at all!" Madam Ding jumped up and started shouting: "Go out and ask around, whose house has these fine things to eat every day? She’s living in luxury and doesn't know it. If she wants to die, let her die properly, don't stir up trouble in the house..."

Yunjiao could not bear to listen anymore; at this rate, her aunt could keep ranting for at least half an hour. This was her second aunt: a master of throwing tantrums, turning even the most trivial matter into a public spectacle. It was no wonder that she ran the household; her second uncle was completely submissive to her. If anyone dared to oppose her, she would kick up such a fuss that no one could stand it. However, this second aunt did have one person she feared—she rarely dared to defy her son-in-law, Shen Changdong. Perhaps it was a case of "every substance has its master," and "evil is met by greater evil."

"Second Aunt," Yunjiao managed to interject during a brief pause while Madam Ding was drinking water, "perhaps Grandmother doesn't care for such greasy food. In the future, just send some soft porridge; there is no need for such extravagance."

"You little girl, what do you mean by that?" Madam Ding immediately took offense. "Are you saying that all my filial piety and the effort I put in every day has, instead, become my fault?"