Chapter 717

The Earl's Mansion, Jia Cong's Courtyard.

It was just as the moon neared its zenith, the night cool as water; Qingwen pulled Zhen Ying Lady Lian to eavesdrop, the two whispering about who would spend the night with him.

Unnoticed, Jia Cong, with his keen hearing and sight, sensed them and smiled as he pushed open the window to call them out.

That line—"Who's going to spend the night?"—made Zhen Ying Lady Lian, who had started the topic, flush crimson with shame, let out a shriek, and bolt away in panic.

Qingwen, embarrassed before Jia Cong, felt her cheeks burn; she followed Zhen Ying Lady Lian in flight, and the corridor fell silent once more.

Jia Cong closed the window again, watching Ping'er, her face flushed red from being teased, laughing softly.

He said: "It must have been Qingwen who stirred this up—she's finally woken up this past year, and her curiosity is insatiable."

Ping'er thought of Qingwen's questions about spending the night; her heart raced, her cheeks flushed, and in the quiet of the deep-night chamber, an indescribable intimacy hung in the air.

Yet this absurd interruption gradually softened the awkwardness of their first night sharing a room…

Jia Cong said: "Wu'er worried you'd find the bed unfamiliar and uneasy, so she replaced all the bedding on the side couch—Sister Ping'er will sleep more soundly now."

Hearing this, Ping'er finally let go of her last nerves; a quiet sigh of relief escaped her, though a strange sense of loss lingered—though she dared not dwell on it.

Jia Cong walked to the robe rack and began undressing himself for bed.

This task normally fell to the night maid, but since Ping'er was spending her first night with him, he guessed she'd be unfamiliar with many things, so he simply did it himself.

Ping'er saw Jia Cong raise his arm, his other hand fumbling awkwardly with the clasps beneath his ribs.

She bit her soft lips, gathered courage, stepped behind him, and said: "Cong Sanye, let me help you."

Jia Cong watched as Ping'er reached under his armpit, deftly unfastened the buttons, and helped him off with his outer robe.

She then took his nightgown and trousers from the rack, blushing as she handed them to him, hesitated, turned her back—and heard the rustling sounds, her heart leaping again.

After Jia Cong changed into his nightclothes, Ping'er helped him tidy the bed, fluffed the silk pillow, and spread the brocade quilt.

The awkwardness of her first visit, the fluttering of her heartbeat—gradually dissolved into nothingness amid these small, strangely intimate acts.

Only when Jia Cong climbed onto the bed did Ping'er draw the canopy shut, then go to the dressing table to remove her hairpins and ornaments.

She undid her hair bun, combed her long tresses lightly, and finally, with boldness, unfastened her robe.

Through the semi-transparent gauze canopy, Jia Cong saw Ping'er shed her pale-yellow satin jacket with chrysanthemum embroidery, then her light-blue pleated skirt…

In the flickering candlelight, her snow-white silk undergarments revealed a slender waist, graceful curves, and tender, upright contours—exquisitely alluring.

In the candlelit bedroom, her delicate form glowed with life, like a brimming wine cup—intoxicating, intoxicating even before a sip.

He recalled that time she came to deliver gifts, when they'd collided in haste—the soft, yielding, slippery touch.

And her shy, pitiful expression—his heart stirred with an unfamiliar feeling…

Then he saw her take small steps to the dressing table, blow out the candle, plunging the room into darkness, save for the clear moonlight streaming through the window lattice.

As Ping'er passed his canopy, she turned her head to glance inside.

Through the gauze canopy, lit by the moonlight, Jia Cong faintly saw Ping'er's glowing cheeks, flushed with tender shame.

He watched her walk to the side couch, unfold the brocade quilt, curl up beneath it—and only then turned over, smiled faintly, and closed his eyes.

Ping'er lay on the couch, tossing and turning several times; she remembered her mistress's words were spot-on—Cong Sanye truly was like this; her body flushed involuntarily.

Yet her heart felt calmer, happier; she began to look forward to the days ahead, the new bedding soft and comforting—soon she drifted into sweet sleep.

…

At dawn, the window glowed with faint morning light; Ping'er rose from the side couch, dressed quietly.

Jia Cong was known throughout both mansions for his discipline and diligence—whether studying for exams in the past or now serving in court, he rose early every day.

Ping'er paid close attention to him; she knew this well. Seeing the main bed's canopy still calmly lowered, she smiled faintly.

She dared not light a candle, fearing she'd disturb his dream; quietly, she sat before the dressing table, using the dim morning light to comb her hair, tie it up, and tidy her appearance.

Then she heard the canopy stir—he revealed himself; she hurried forward to draw it back. Jia Cong smiled: "Sister Ping'er, did you sleep well last night?"

Ping'er smiled: "I fell asleep right away—slept as soundly as in Madam's courtyard, woke just as dawn broke."

Though they'd shared only one night in the same room, the awkward distance between them had already largely vanished, replaced by quiet familiarity.

As Ping'er finished dressing Jia Cong, the door tapped twice; Wu'er entered with a copper basin of hot water, then Zhi Shao came to comb his hair.

They both knew Ping'er was spending her first night on duty and likely unfamiliar with things, so they came early to help.

Soft laughter drifted through the room, warm with the scent of home.

Ping'er had been Wang Wang Xifeng's personal maid since childhood—naturally skilled and dexterous.

But serving Wang Wang Xifeng and serving Jia Cong were vastly different—male and female, distinct in duty; with Zhi Shao and Wu'er demonstrating, she understood at a glance.

…

After they finished washing and had just entered the main hall for breakfast, Juan'er arrived to report: a woman from Second Mistress's quarters had come to deliver a message.

Ping'er hurried out, returned shortly, and said: "Yesterday, when I returned early with Wu'er, I didn't know Bao Er Ye had caused another scene."

Jia Cong frowned slightly: "What now? What did he do?"

Ping'er detailed how Bao'yu had stormed into Rongqing Hall yesterday, and how the woman had come to report that Bao'yu had smashed several antiques in his room.

Jia Cong thought briefly—he understood why Wang Wang Xifeng had sent word so early: she'd calculated he hadn't yet left the mansion for court.

She sent the woman to Ping'er not to inform Ping'er, but to reach him.

If she'd waited until his return in the evening, a full day would have passed—much could have happened.

Though Bao'yu was now an adopted son, due to his ties with Jia Mu and Jia Zheng, disciplining him was no small matter—Wang Wang Xifeng needed him to know.

This was her shrewd management: to ensure he was prepared, so no later family turmoil caught him off guard.

…

Jia Cong's face darkened: "Master is concerned with family propriety and insisted on moving to the eastern courtyard. Logically, Bao'yu should reside under his care."

But he's lingered in the western mansion; I've spared Grandmother's face, and since our sisters have already moved to the eastern mansion, I didn't want outsiders gossiping about internal affairs."

So I let him wander freely, refusing to waste energy on such trivialities.

But he's my age—and does nothing, yet grows ever more absurd in his conduct.

These antiques aren't mere objects—they're priceless, and not dead things: they were painstakingly gathered by two generations of Dukes through blood and battle.

To destroy ancestral heirlooms without cause isn't just damaging property—it's a grave act of filial impiety.

Had Jia Family not been a house of leniency, never harsh with servants, Second Sister's punishment was already too lenient.

This must be announced to every soul in the mansion: anyone who destroys ancestral property without cause will be punished severely!

Sister Ping'er, deliver my words to Second Sister: if anyone objects to her punishment, let them come to me with my words."

Ping'er smiled: "Only Cong Sanye has the authority—now, with your words, this matter stands upright, and no one will dare object."

Jia Cong sighed: "Master is also struggling—he longs for his son to rise, yet everything turns against him."

I don't want Master humiliated. But Bao'yu will marry by year's end—soon enough, the western mansion will grow quiet."

Ping'er and Wu'er both understood: Bao Er Ye's repeated absurdities had finally stirred Cong Sanye's true anger; only his regard for Bao Er Ye's dignity had kept him silent until now.

…

Lady Rongguo Mansion, Rongqing Hall.

Bao'yu smashed ancestral antiques; Wang Wang Xifeng confiscated four months' stipend from his serving maids—news spread quickly through the western mansion.

Jia Mu heard the rumors and grew uneasy, sitting in the hall, frowning. Soon, Sister Yuanyang entered from outside.

She asked: "Sister Yuanyang, have you learned the full story?"

Sister Yuanyang replied: "All is clear. Yesterday, Bao Er Ye smashed six antiques—all fine pieces."

These were placed in his room by Madam Er during her tenure, or gifted to him by Grandmother in past years."

One was even something he'd begged from Grandmother two years ago—the pair of pink agate trays inscribed with Fu, Lu, and Shou. What a pity."

I heard Grandmother say they were a birthday gift from the Duke to her."

Jia Mu had seen countless treasures in her lifetime; losing a few wouldn't trouble her much.

But hearing Sister Yuanyang's words, her face darkened: "This Bao'yu is too impulsive—anger is anger."

Why smash only the most precious items? Once gone, these things can never be replaced…"

Sister Yuanyang continued: "Lin Lin Meimei inquired at antique shops—the six items are worth at least 3,600 taels."

If kept longer, like Grandmother's agate trays, they'd be worth even more."

Second Mistress was furious—because Sister Xi Ren claimed the maids provoked Bao'yu into smashing them."

So she confiscated four months' stipend from every maid in his quarters. Qiūwén, defiant, spoke out—

Second Mistress had her dragged out and beaten twenty times with the household rod; she couldn't walk, and was carried back to his courtyard."

…

Jia Mu's face changed; she muttered: "Even if the things are broken, why make such a fuss? More trouble is sure to follow."

A family must live in harmony. Bao'yu is no peace. If this continues, he won't last long in the western mansion."

Sister Yuanyang paused, then said: "This morning, Cong Sanye learned of it—and sent word to Second Mistress."

Jia Mu grew anxious: "What did Cong'er say?"

Now that Jia Cong inherited both mansions, Jia Mu, though grandmother, had grown cautious—her status and filial piety no longer gave her free rein.

Though she favored Bao'yu privately, ancestral law was merciless—he was, after all, a collateral branch.

As the matriarch of Lady Rongguo Mansion, by family rites and bloodline, Jia Cong and Bao'yu were not equals.

Even if Jia Mu refused to accept it, the ancestral law could not be changed.

If Jia Cong used family law to punish Bao'yu for destroying ancestral property, Jia Mu would be deeply troubled.

When Jia Zheng beat Bao'yu, Jia Mu could scold and curse without restraint—but she could not do so to Jia Cong.

Not only because Jia Cong inherited his position by imperial decree—where sovereign authority outweighs family rites—but because she could no longer sway him.

More so because Jia Cong's wit far surpassed Jia Zheng's: cunning, strategic, sharp-tongued—if he punished Bao'yu, he'd have flawless justification.

Even if Jia Mu cursed and resisted, his eloquence would leave her humiliated and defeated.

Over the years, had there not been enough such incidents? Jia Mu had long been left with lingering fear, and naturally paid close attention to Jia Cong's stance.

Sister Yuanyang said: "Cong Sanye said the antiques Jia Baoyu smashed were family heirlooms won through blood and steel by our ancestors; to destroy them without cause is great filial impiety.

He also said Second Mistress's punishment was too lenient—had Jia Family not always been lenient with servants, they ought to have been punished more severely.

Cong Sanye also instructed Second Mistress to issue a decree: from now on, anyone in the household who dares damage ancestral property shall be punished without mercy."

Upon hearing this, Jia Mu's expression subtly changed; she had not expected Jia Cong to care so deeply about this matter, or to think Wang Wang Xifeng's punishment too light.

If the punishment were any harsher, it wouldn't be just confiscating the maids' monthly silver—it would mean applying family discipline to my Jia Baoyu…

…

Sister Yuanyang saw Jia Mu's displeasure and said: "Old Madam, technically I shouldn't speak out of turn, but I feel Cong Sanye's words are entirely reasonable.

He's grieving for the treasures left by our ancestors, and Second Mistress's handling leaves no flaw to be found.

Moreover, the punishment falls only on Xi Ren and the other maids, without shaming Jia Baoyu too much; Second Mistress also showed respect for you, preserving Jia Baoyu's dignity.

If we let this matter pass quietly, it would be fine—just instruct Jia Baoyu privately to prevent future mistakes."

After hearing Sister Yuanyang's reasoning, Jia Mu's expression softened. "Your words make sense. After all, this is Jia Baoyu's recklessness.

I heard Jia Cong's estate in Liaodong brings in only five thousand taels a year—he's naturally furious to see three thousand lost at once.

Although Wang Xifeng was strict, she still spared Jia Baoyu some face; only Xi Ren and the others suffered injustice—I won't let them go unrewarded in the future.

Let this matter be dropped entirely. Let it pass smoothly. Tomorrow, go call Jia Baoyu here—I'll speak to him properly. He mustn't be so foolish again."

Sister Yuanyang said: "Old Madam sees this clearly, as if with a mirror in her heart. But Second Mistress of the Eastern Courtyard will likely think too much upon hearing of it."

Jia Mu understood Sister Yuanyang's implication at once and sighed: "You think very carefully."

She felt a headache coming—this second daughter-in-law, ever since moving to the Eastern Courtyard, had grown ever more narrow-minded, prone to obsession, fixated on one side while ignoring the other, stubbornly clinging to pride.

If she learned of this, she'd only feel the Second Branch had lost great face, and come to stir trouble with me, making the matter worse.

Neither Jia Cong nor Wang Xifeng are easy to manage. We've barely quelled the fire—let everyone pretend ignorance and move on. Don't let it be reignited.

If the First and Second Branches truly come to blows, what hope remains for my Jia Baoyu?"

At this thought, Jia Mu's head throbbed. "Sister Yuanyang, I'm tired. Help me to the inner chamber to rest…"

…

Lady Rongguo Mansion, Jia Baoyu's Courtyard.

Yesterday's incident in Jia Baoyu's quarters had spread like wildfire through the Western Mansion by mid-afternoon.

By sunset, the news reached the Eastern Courtyard. When Wang Lady learned of the humiliation inflicted upon Jia Baoyu, her fury burned like fire.

But night had fallen; she could not enter the Western Mansion to confront them. She could only endure the night, gnawing at her heart, waiting for dawn to act.

Yet Wang Wang Xifeng's actions had stirred such a commotion that Jia Zheng's personal servant learned of it and came to inform his master.

Jia Zheng, startled and enraged, questioned Wang Lady. She said nothing of her son's fault, only accused Wang Wang Xifeng of arrogance—how she had emptied Jia Baoyu's chambers, violating all propriety and decorum.

As the saying goes, no one knows a son better than his father. Jia Zheng did not indulge his son as Wang Lady did; Jia Baoyu's conduct had long disappointed him.

The servant only said Jia Baoyu had smashed antiques, sparking the uproar—but could not specify which antiques or their value.

Jia Zheng knew Wang Wang Xifeng had managed the household for years. Though her methods were harsh, she never acted without reason within the inner quarters.

He was certain Jia Baoyu had committed a grave offense; otherwise, Wang Wang Xifeng would never have disregarded Old Madam's face and taken such drastic action.

But he had to go to court the next morning and had no time to deal with this disobedient son. He ordered Jia Baoyu to return to the Eastern Courtyard and await his return to punish him.

Wang Lady, seeing her husband take no side for their son but instead rage as if to condemn Jia Baoyu, felt even more wronged and terrified.

As soon as Jia Zheng left for court, she hurried out of the Eastern Courtyard and entered the Western Mansion through the western side gate.

…

Her first stop was Jia Baoyu's room. Xi Ren, embarrassed, had not displayed the cheap trinkets Wang Wang Xifeng had given.

Wang Lady saw Jia Baoyu's chambers empty and bare, as if looted by thieves.

Even the hanging vases embedded in the walls had been pried out, leaving ugly hollows. She trembled with rage.

The antiques and ornaments in Jia Baoyu's room were only a small fraction of what Jia Mu had bestowed.

Most items were chosen by Wang Lady herself, as the household mistress, using her authority to select fine antiques from the storehouse and place them in her son's room.

These were precious objects. When Wang Lady and Jia Zheng moved to the Eastern Courtyard, Jia Baoyu remained in the Western Mansion, so this collection of rare antiques was left behind.

Wang Lady seethed with anger and regret. Had she known Wang Xifeng would seize this chance to plunder, she should have moved everything to the Eastern Courtyard long ago—but that would have cost a fortune.

She pointed at Xi Ren and screamed: "Are you all dead? So many of you guarding Jia Baoyu, and yet you let them act so brazenly in his room—what good are you?"

Xi Ren knelt immediately and pleaded: "Yesterday, Lin Lin Zhixiao's wife arrived with six old maids, sent by Second Mistress, full of menace.

We tried to stop them, but we couldn't hold them back. Lin Lin Zhixiao's wife probably hoped we'd resist.

We're mere servants. We dared not act too boldly—if we'd truly struggled, we'd have torn the veil with Second Mistress.

Our lives don't matter—but if we caused a major incident, Young Master couldn't stay in the Western Mansion."

Wang Lady was chilled by this. She hadn't realized Wang Xifeng was so ruthless—she'd brought so many to raid the room.

Xi Ren's words held truth. Had the maids resisted fiercely, the situation might have spiraled beyond control.

Though the Second Branch had moved to the Eastern Courtyard, they had not formally split from Lady Rongguo Mansion—they still drew daily provisions from the main household.

The bond papers of Xi Ren and the other maids remained in the hands of the Western Mansion's central office—they were still private property of the Western Mansion.

If they openly defied Wang Wang Xifeng, the household mistress of the Western Mansion, they violated the gravest taboo of a great family—even Old Madam could not protect them.

Given Wang Xifeng's usual cruelty, the ringleaders among the seven maids—Xi Ren, Shuyue, and others—would likely be beaten to death by family discipline.

If it reached that point, the First and Second Branches would be irreparably broken.

Even Old Madam would hesitate, unable to fully support the Second Branch.

Wang Lady felt deep frustration and helplessness. In this light, Xi Ren's retreat seemed almost wise.

Yet even so, the First Branch's arrogance and brutality—Wang Lady could not swallow this humiliation inflicted upon her son…

(End of Chapter)