part 7
"Shen Tanxiang," he spoke my name slowly and firmly, as if carving these three characters deep into his bones. "From this day forth, you are the mistress of the General’s Manor. Whoever dares to wrong you shall stand against me, Gu Lin."
Winds howled outside, rattling the window frames. The vast manor lay quiet and desolate, lacking even a proper number of maids and servants. Yet in this simple bridal chamber, I felt warmer than in any luxurious suite back at the Shen residence.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the capital, Shen Mudan sat on an ornate bed draped in bright red silk quilts in the young lord’s mansion. Her wedding veil had been lifted, yet the smile on her face faded little by little.
The wedding night was supposed to be the sweetest moment in life.
But after lifting her veil, Zhao Ming did not even exchange polite words before heading straight to the outer room to drink wine. After waiting for half an hour with no sign of his return, Shen Mudan sent her maid Chunxing to check.
Chunxing soon came back with a dreadful look.
"Miss... no, Madam Young Lord, the young lord is in his study. He said... he intends to rest there tonight."
Shen Mudan’s smile froze completely.
"The study? On our wedding night, he chooses to sleep in the study?"
"He said..." Chunxing hesitated nervously, "he still has books to finish reading and told you to rest early."
Shen Mudan stood up abruptly and pushed open the study door herself. There sat Zhao Ming poring over books in dim candlelight, his expression utterly indifferent.
"My lord, this is our wedding night..."
"I know," Zhao Ming replied without lifting his head. "Go rest first. I still have studies to attend to."
"Are your studies more important than me?"
Zhao Ming finally looked up at her with a gaze so calm it bordered on coldness. "Miss Shen, this betrothal was never my wish. You need not force yourself, nor will I compel you. We may each live our own lives."
Anger and grievance welled up in Shen Mudan’s throat, leaving her speechless.
She had dreamed of tender affection and marital bliss on their wedding night, but reality brought nothing but cold distance and rejection from Zhao Ming.
What shocked her even more was the true state of the mansion when she woke up in her so-called main courtyard the next morning.
The walls were faded and chipped, doors and windows worn-out, and all furniture looked like second-hand goods. Including maids, servants and personal attendants, there were merely seven or eight people in total, far fewer than half the staff of the Shen family.
Breakfast was served: plain steamed buns, pickled vegetables and plain congee.
Staring at the simple meal, Shen Mudan could hardly believe her eyes. "What... what is this?"
"This is breakfast, Madam Young Lord," the maid answered timidly with her head bowed.
"As the young lord’s wife, am I only meant to eat such plain food?"
The maid dared not utter a word. Just then Zhao Ming walked out of the study and said plainly, "The prince’s mansion is poor and cannot compare with the prosperous Shen household. If you cannot get used to it, you may ask the kitchen to prepare separate meals for you." He spoke casually without the slightest trace of shame, as if such humble living was perfectly normal.
Shen Mudan bit her lip and forced herself to finish half a bowl of congee before she could eat no more.
She suddenly recalled her mother’s vague words before her wedding: "Though the prince retains his title by imperial grace, the mansion is no longer as prosperous as before. You must learn to endure hardship. When the young lord gains power in the future, life will surely improve."
She had paid no heed to those words back then. In her mind, even a fallen imperial clansman was far superior to an ordinary general.
Yet sitting in this draughty shabby room eating stale steamed buns, she finally understood that noble titles alone could not fill one’s stomach.
She comforted herself silently: things would get better once Zhao Ming secured an official position.
Little did she know that the emperor had kept him idle for three whole years. Without official rank or powerful connections, the young lord of Prince Rong ranked even lower than minor officials in the capital.
At that very moment, I was enjoying warm jujube and longan congee in the General’s Manor.
Gu Lin sat opposite me, eating swiftly with the decisive manner formed from years of military life on the frontier.
"There are few servants here, and our kitchen is rather simple. If the meals do not suit your taste, I shall hire more chefs at once." He set down his bowl, looking slightly awkward. "I spend most of my time in the military camp and seldom manage household affairs. From now on, you may take full charge."
"No need for extra chefs," I said gently. "I know how to cook myself."
Gu Lin looked up at me in surprise.
I smiled softly. "As a concubine-born daughter, I have long learned to do everything by myself."
He said nothing, yet I noticed his eyelashes flutter and his fingers tighten slightly around his chopsticks.
After the meal, I sent Qinghe to explore the entire manor and soon got a clear picture of everything.
Though spacious with three rows of courtyards, most of the manor stood empty and neglected. Weeds ran wild all over the yards, paint peeled off the corridors, and even the pond had dried up. There were less than twenty servants in total, most of whom were veteran soldiers who had followed Gu Lin from the borderlands. Brave and skilled in warfare, they were far from adept at household management.
"Madam," Qinghe sighed, "this manor is far too desolate. We lack experienced housekeepers. How can such a huge residence be properly maintained with so few people?"
"Small staff has its own advantages," I replied. "At least we have no intrigues and petty conflicts to deal with."
Qinghe pouted and said no more.
I spent the whole day touring every corner of the manor and made careful plans. Though worn and run-down, the manor had a solid foundation and could easily regain its grandeur with simple renovations. Loyal and honest as they were, the veteran servants could be well organized to take on their respective duties.
I asked Qinghe to bring over the account books and soon found out the truth. Despite his generous military salary, Gu Lin gave most of his income to support his retired wounded subordinates. He looked mighty and prestigious on the surface, yet his own home was almost bare without even decent decorations.
My heart ached for him.
He had stepped onto the battlefield at fourteen, devoting his youth to defending the northern borders and safeguarding the empire’s territory. In return, he could not even afford fine furnishings for his own residence. All the rewards he earned with his life were shared with his brothers who had fought side by side with him.
"Qinghe," I said firmly, "take out those two thousand taels of silver."
"Are you going to use the money, Madam?"
"Renovate the manor," I said. "Now that I am married here, I will not allow outsiders to mock the General’s Manor for being shabby and impoverished."
Qinghe hesitated. "But Madam, were you not saving this sum for emergencies?"
"My husband guards the frontier fighting for our country. How can I be a worthy general’s wife if I cannot even run our own home well?" I smiled calmly. "Money can always be earned again, but the dignity of the General’s Manor must never be lost."