Chapter 2: Madam Tu’s Intentions

Outside the wedding tent, two women sat.

One was the bride’s dowry matron, Madam Tu—a shriveled, gaunt old woman; the other, Suo Chanzhi’s personal maid, Little Qingmei, her face plump and radiant with youth. The pair, one elderly and one young, sat side by side at the entrance to the tent. Across Qingmei’s knees lay a sword, while Madam Tu’s hands were empty.

This wedding tent was pitched at the highest point of the barren land, overlooking the entire encampment. In the distance, a few wild camels still grazed along the horizon. Down the slope, bonfires cast silhouettes upon the wasteland, as if imprinting an ancient parchment painting. The people below were busy assembling coffins from wagon boards, the faint clatter of hammering drifting up, accentuating the night’s tranquility.

Qingmei’s eyes sparkled with mischievous innocence. Sitting cross-legged, she slid closer to Madam Tu, not using her hands or moving her legs, but simply shifting her hips: “Hey! Madam Tu, is our lady… just going to consummate the marriage with some random man?”

Madam Tu replied coolly, “What else? Would you rather see your mistress burdened with the title of Young Mistress of the Yu family, never to rise above her station?”

“Well, of course I wouldn’t want that, but… this kind of thing… will it work?”

“What wouldn’t work? The only people who know Young Master Yu hasn’t consummated with Lady Chanzhi are you, me, and Yang Can. If you don’t speak, I don’t speak, and Yang Can doesn’t speak, then should Lady Chanzhi fall pregnant… that child will naturally be recognized as the eldest grandson of the Yu family.”

Qingmei asked anxiously, “But what if the Young Mistress bears a girl?”

Madam Tu’s reply was cold: “We can’t worry about such details now. First, let her conceive. Once she’s with child, we’ll have ten months—enough time to do many things. If it turns out to be a girl, we’ll have another chance for a ‘dragon swap’.”

Qingmei said, conflicted, “But that Yang fellow is Young Master Yu’s retainer. Will he agree?”

Madam Tu scoffed, “If he doesn’t, he’ll die at once. If he does, even if he doubts our promises, at least he’ll enjoy a beauty before death, and his offspring might leap into nobility after. Tell me, wouldn’t he agree?”

Qingmei thought hard but hadn’t arrived at an answer when she heard one.

The answer came from inside the wedding tent—a startled cry.

“Eh~~~”

Both shocked and shy, like a maiden pricked by a thorn while arranging flowers, the gasp held a hint of pain.

In the distance, wild camels still wandered under the moon. Flickering bonfires stamped shadows onto the desert.

The faint sounds of coffin assembly drifted, creating an uncanny scene. Yet from within the wedding tent, suppressed moans began to emerge—painful, resigned, winding endlessly.

An old woman and a young maiden sat quietly outside, listening.

Whenever the murmurs grew soft, Qingmei’s ears would perk up unconsciously. At the sudden crack, her body would shudder in fright.

Gradually, her cheeks grew redder and hotter, nearly warm enough to cook a pancake. Though still untouched by men, as Suo Chanzhi’s maid, she had accompanied her mistress in viewing the “bottom-of-the-chest” book before the wedding.

The “bottom-of-the-chest” was a pictorial guide, prepared by the bride’s family before marriage to educate daughters about intimacy.

Now, the images from those books, once half-understood, seemed to come alive in Qingmei’s mind, swirling into a muddled mess. The sounds from the tent matched the actions in her imagination perfectly.

Restless, Qingmei felt as if ants were crawling over her. Suddenly, feeling weak, she scrambled to her feet, blushing and mumbling, “Madam Tu, I… I’m going to fetch some water.”

She hurried away with the sword, her urgency betrayed by tightly closed thighs and a pigeon-toed walk.

Madam Tu remained seated, her wrinkled face full of disdain. So the little girl couldn’t handle it? Hmph!

Madam Tu had been sold into the Suo household at twelve. From a rough servant to a maid, then to a senior maid, matron, and finally steward matron—it had taken thirty-nine years.

Now past fifty, she had never known a man, never married. In her youth, she blushed at tales of her mistresses’ bedroom affairs, listening to older maids recount their stories and longing for such things in quiet nights.

Yet, at some point, Madam Tu lost interest in matters between men and women, even feeling revulsion. Now, her sole pursuit was power.

But within the household, her path had reached its limit—no further advancement possible. So she set her sights on the position of external steward.

In ordinary wealthy families, a steward or housekeeper managed affairs. In the great clans, however, the external steward was a wholly different office—charged with administering the clan’s territories, a governor of sorts, overseeing all local matters. Their authority rivaled or even surpassed that of imperial governors, especially since frontier management was lax, granting these stewards more power than high ministers of the empire.

The external steward was a retainer, while Madam Tu—even as steward matron—was but a slave. One character, worlds apart.

What Madam Tu wanted now was to cross that boundary, to become a retainer of the Suo clan of Golden City.

Thus, she secured the role of dowry matron for the Yu family marriage.

“Heh, Chanzhi is so easy to fool,” Madam Tu thought smugly. “A few words and she was taken in. But it’s not really deceit—if this succeeds, it’s truly advantageous for her and her branch. Still, most of the benefit will be mine…”

Her face lit with satisfaction.

In this world, the Central Plains were divided by the Shichuan River—the south ruled by the Chen Empire, the north by the Mu Empire, two empires splitting the realm.

The frontier was governed by eight great clans, each autonomous. Of these, the strongest were the Suo, Yuan, and Murong clans—the Upper Three. The weaker were the Yuwen, Li, Dugu, Zhao, and Yu clans—the Lower Five.

Now, the Upper Three were restless, all aiming to unite the clans, found a new dynasty, and rival the two empires.

In this context, the Tianshui Yu clan became crucial. Though ranked last among the eight, their lands were famed as the “granary of the right frontier.”

So, when the Yu clan proposed an alliance through marriage, the Suo clan agreed readily.

In grand families, a steward matron always accompanied the bride, helping her manage household affairs, servants, finances, etiquette, and relations.

But the true purpose of the Suo family’s dowry matron was to control the Yu clan’s main branch through Suo Chanzhi, ultimately seizing the “granary of the right frontier” for the Suo clan.

This might take years, but for ambitions that could span generations, such a wait was nothing.

Yet, the death of Yu Chengye disrupted Suo’s plans, and dashed Madam Tu’s hopes of becoming external steward.

Luckily, in her desperation, she devised this “borrowed seed” scheme—a resurrection plan—and managed to persuade Suo Chanzhi.

If the plan succeeded, the Suo clan’s plot could continue, and with Chanzhi’s secret in her grasp…

Listening to the pained moans from the tent, Madam Tu’s smile grew ever more delighted.