Chapter 867

Rongguo Mansion, Rongqing Hall.

The incense burner in the hall was warm, as if spring had arrived; the air carried the sweet, lingering fragrance of lily petals, soothing and refreshing.

But when Wang Xifeng brought up the old matter, Baoyu turned pale—his body no longer felt the warmth, his heart turned icy, and a chill ran through him.

That time, he had merely spoken a few casual words about betrothal in the inner chamber, words spoken from the heart, with no blame on anyone else.

Yet somehow the rumor spread, drawing a reprimand from the Imperial Clan Court, a nightmare he could never erase.

That time, not only was he beaten half-dead by his father, but the precious Tongling Jade, his pride, was confiscated and locked away forever.

He remembered how, in those days, his furious smashing of the jade had made Grandmother Jia heartbroken, his mother tenderly protective, and all his sisters trembling with awe—how glorious it had been.

But those Imperial Clan Court officials, those corrupt parasites, had destroyed this very source of his strength; every time Baoyu thought of it, his heart ached as if torn apart.

…

Thus, the words “Imperial Clan Court” held immense power to wound Baoyu.

In his mind, the Imperial Clan Court officials were all ignorant country bumpkins, unable to understand the refined, untainted pleasures of human life, only capable of crude, joy-killing interference.

Moreover, Wang Xifeng raising it now clearly carried ill intent—as if she wished the Imperial Clan Court would come knocking.

Baoyu felt his legs go weak, his face turn pale, and an urge to flee seized him—to escape this world of sorrow and rage forever.

Jia Mu, hearing Wang Xifeng’s words, also grew grave, saying: “Xifeng’s words have merit. Baoyu, if you must vent, say whatever you like.

But you must never involve court affairs—if rumors spread and things get twisted, the family will suffer. Never speak of such things again.”

Baoyu had already turned pale from Wang Xifeng’s few words; his earlier bravado vanished. He fell silent as a frozen cicada, daring not to speak again.

Wang Lady’s expression grew awkward; she felt Wang Xifeng’s tongue was cruel, deliberately humiliating Baoyu again—picking the one topic guaranteed to wound him, leaving him terrified.

Wang Xifeng saw that with just a few words, Baoyu had revealed his true colors—a cowardly, spineless fool—and she felt a flicker of satisfaction, determined to press further.

…

She said: “Grandmother, the Lunar New Year is nearly here, and this year’s harvest from the hereditary estate won’t come in until late March or early April.

Due to holiday expenses, we’ve already spent heavily; in March, Baoyu’s wedding will require another large outlay from the household treasury.

So from late January to the end of April—three full months—the household finances will be extremely tight.

Since everyone here is present and knows our situation, I won’t shy from speaking plainly: until the harvest arrives in early April, the household will face a severe shortage.

In past years, I’d pawn my personal gold necklaces or a few pieces of my dowry jewelry, then quietly redeem them once the harvest came in.

To use my own savings to cover the shortfall isn’t much to me, but now Cong brother is in the spotlight, and the West Mansion draws everyone’s attention.

So many eyes are watching—how can I carry out my duties discreetly? If word leaks out, Cong brother’s face will be lost.

Since she’s entrusted me with managing the household, I can’t just idle until spring’s end; I must find ways to cut and rearrange expenses, so we don’t rob Peter to pay Paul.

Otherwise, with monthly deficits, managing this household becomes impossible. The most practical solution now is to follow family law and ancestral rites.

We must trim back all past expenditures and allowances according to established rules.

Since Second Madam is here today, it’s perfect to discuss this together—I seek your guidance, Grandmother.”

Hearing Wang Xifeng’s words, Jia Mu felt a sudden headache—she could not escape it; the First and Second Branches were at it again…

But this wasn’t new—Wang Xifeng had raised it several times before the New Year; Jia Mu had feared spoiling the festive mood, patched things over repeatedly, and delayed the matter.

To appease the First Branch, when Wang Xifeng wanted to take Yu Chuan as a personal maid for Jia Cong, Jia Mu had turned a blind eye.

Letting her grandson have his way, the girl now followed him everywhere—satisfying him perfectly.

Wang Xifeng had calmed down slightly, postponing the awkward issue until after the New Year.

But now Baoyu had spoken foolishly again, and Yun Niang had exposed it on the spot; Wang Xifeng understood the implication and naturally felt displeased.

She had openly raised it now—and yet, she couldn’t be faulted; the Lantern Festival was near, and wasn’t this precisely “after the New Year”?

…

Hearing Wang Xifeng’s words, Wang Lady’s heart lurched—rumors had already spread before the New Year that the Second Branch’s allowances would be cut, starting with her monthly stipend.

If her own monthly allowance as the household mistress were stripped away, her face would be utterly lost.

Though the rumor had circulated, no one had pressed it further; Wang Lady had clung to hope, believing that Wang Xifeng dared not act, out of respect for her husband’s dignity.

Yet today, before Grandmother Jia’s very eyes, she had boldly raised it again.

Moreover, with Yingchun, Daiyu, and other juniors present, it was clearly meant to strip her dignity before them—to humiliate her in front of the younger generation. Her intent was truly vicious.

Wang Lady saw Jia Mu’s expression—marked by awkwardness and hesitation, without any firm rebuke—and her heart turned cold.

Now that Grandmother Jia depended on the First Branch for support, and Wang Xifeng was so cunning, every expense in Rongqing Hall had not only remained unchanged, but had even improved.

Out of face, Jia Mu, unwilling to offend the son-in-law’s side, had grown soft toward Wang Xifeng’s reckless behavior—now she merely let things slide…

Wang Lady suddenly regretted coming to Rongqing Hall today—this was no less than being cornered, bound hand and foot, and humiliated.

…

Just as Wang Xifeng was about to press her advantage and strike, the warm curtain at the hall’s entrance was lifted, and Lin Zhixiao’s wife entered.

She said: “Grandmother, Third Master’s personal attendant Jiang Liu has returned with news. Since the young ladies have come to the West Mansion, he asked the maids to deliver the message here.

He says that after Third Master entered the palace, His Majesty appointed him as Assistant Regional Commander, commanding six thousand Divine Mechanism Troops, and he will soon depart for Tongzhou to defend against the southern Mongol Tartars.”

Hearing the news, Yingchun, Daiyu, and the other sisters all felt their hearts tighten—so it was finally happening…

Jia Mu asked: “Did he say when he departs? Why did the attendant return alone? Hasn’t Cong-ge returned?”

Lin Zhixiao’s wife replied: “Jiang Liu said Third Master went to the city’s firearms workshop; with many duties before departure, he’ll return home later today.

As for the exact departure date, he gave no specifics, only saying it will be within these days—likely before the Lantern Festival. Military matters are rarely announced openly.

Also, Second Lord Shi has been appointed to a military post as Deputy Commander, responsible for guarding the capital.”

Jia Mu sighed and said to Xiangyun: “Your second uncle fares better—he remains in the capital to guard it, avoiding much risk.”

Hearing this, Xiangyun’s mood grew heavy; so did Yingchun’s, Daiyu’s, Tanchun’s, and Baochai’s.

…

Yingchun said: “Grandmother, Third Brother’s departure is settled. For the Lantern Festival, the East Mansion will cancel all fireworks and entertainment to pray for his good fortune.”

Jia Mu sighed: “In past years, when the old Duke went to war, we did the same. Xifeng, the West Mansion must also cancel fireworks and entertainment.

Scale back the Lantern Eve banquet too—don’t invite the seven distant branches of the family; explain the reason and send them simple New Year gifts instead.”

Wang Xifeng said: “Grandmother’s wisdom is unmatched. I’ll see to it immediately. In truth, Third Brother’s departure is a good thing.

When he led troops in Liaodong, it was his extraordinary battlefield achievements that earned us the hereditary title.

This campaign will surely bring victory; perhaps he’ll win more glory—then we can celebrate joyfully in both mansions.”

Jia Mu smiled: “You always know how to speak auspiciously. Of course, winning glory is best—but I only hope he returns safe and sound.”

Daiyu said: “Grandmother speaks with true clarity. Third Brother is only fifteen—he’s already been granted a title and office, his accomplishments complete. Longevity and peace matter most.”

Wang Xifeng said: “Grandmother and Lin Meimei are both right. Our family’s present dignity rests entirely on Cong brother’s shoulders.

All our wealth and honor depend on him.”

…

Hearing that Jia Cong was departing and the family would not even celebrate the Lantern Festival, Baoyu felt deeply gloomy—he had always looked forward to the fireworks and entertainment, and now even that was gone.

He had suffered through his life in the Eastern Courtyard; now even this small joy was taken away. Jia Cong’s own antics were one thing, but dragging the whole family into unrest?

Even Grandmother now catered to him—when had she ever treated him so well? Clearly, human hearts shift easily, cold and warm, turning in an instant—how tragic.

Even Lin Meimei, this lofty, refined girl, who had always stood above the vulgar world—among all the sisters, she alone had once shared his pure, untainted sentiments.

Yet now she too had changed her tune, speaking of Jia Cong’s title and office, his accomplishments—words fit for corrupt parasites. How could such words come from Lin Meimei’s mouth?

Thinking of this, Baoyu’s heart ached as if torn apart; his round face twitched, his gaze fixed on Lin Meimei with deep, silent longing.

But Daiyu’s brows were furrowed, her face heavy with thought—she seemed lost in her own mind, giving him not even a glance—and his heart ached again, sharp and bitter.

…

Earlier, he had boasted, thinking his words lofty and refined—only to be savagely rebuked by Shi Xiangyun, his face stripped bare, humiliated and ashamed.

Even Second Sister and Baochai had comforted Xiangyun—clearly, they were as confused as she was. He had nothing left to say, only lamenting how few sensible souls remained in the family.

Seeing Daiyu’s gloomy expression and sorrowful face, he knew it was tied to Jia Cong; he had wanted to speak, to awaken her.

But after being so sharply rebuked by Xiangyun, Baoyu was still shaken; if he spoke again and faced another retort, he, too, had pride—he could only hold his tongue for now.

…

With Jia Cong’s departure confirmed, everyone in the hall felt differently, and conversation died.

Wang Xifeng, who had been stirring trouble, now dropped the subject—Jia Cong’s departure was a major matter; now was no time to restructure the Second Branch.

Seeing Wang Xifeng fall silent for a moment, Wang Lady seized the opening: “I still have household duties in the Eastern Courtyard,” she said, and took her leave from Jia Mu.

As she left, she held Baoyu’s hand, reluctant to let go—her haste resembled a desperate escape.

Wang Xifeng watched their retreating backs, deeply regretful—but today was not the right moment; she would have to wait to humiliate them again.