The Feng family’s farce quickly spread throughout Taohua Village.
Word was that Taoniang’s back wounds had split open again, bleeding profusely…
Old Master Bai was called to the Feng residence to prescribe medicine.
Huang Yaning, too, had been beaten until her cheeks were swollen and her backside bruised…
The Fengs paid no attention to Huang Yaning’s injuries. It was Auntie Zhao, fearing Taoniang might finish the girl off once she recovered her senses, who carried Huang Yaning back to the Zhao household.
She also summoned Old Master Bai to treat Huang Yaning, after which Uncle Zhao rushed to the county to deliver a message…
…..
Meanwhile, in the Sheng Residence…
“You’re back…”
Concubine Ruan turned her head at the sound of movement and saw Dousha stomp into the room, her little mouth pursed in anger.
Behind her, two stout maids carried food boxes, their expressions sour—no doubt they’d faced more humiliation in the main kitchen.
She sighed and straightened slightly.
Ever since the incident in the madam’s courtyard that night, when the master and madam had a fierce argument, the madam had withdrawn from household affairs entirely.
Now the estate was in utter chaos.
First, the Sixth Young Miss shut herself in her room copying scriptures, abstaining from meat in a show of repentance.
The Eldest, Third, and Fifth Young Masters, doted on the Sixth Young Miss and followed her lead, turning vegetarian as well…
Particularly the Third Young Master, whose health had always been delicate—now he was surviving on plain, coarse meals…
Rumors said he’d grown frighteningly thin, looking as though a breeze could topple him…
With the masters eating this way, the servants’ already meager rations grew even worse…
The servants prayed daily for the madam to forgive the Sixth Young Miss and the others, so their young masters would resume normal meals—and they, in turn, could enjoy a few decent bites.
But the madam remained secluded in the Peony Courtyard, refusing to show her face. After days of tasteless, oil-starved meals, many servants had developed gaunt, pointed chins.
Resentment toward the madam simmered, with whispers that she was too heartless.
Some servants, unable to endure it, even dipped into their savings to bribe the cooks for meat—but the cooks didn’t dare oblige.
Only the madam, with her private kitchen, remained unaffected, deepening the servants’ bitterness.
To Concubine Ruan, the young masters’ and Sixth Young Miss’s behavior was like roasting the madam over an open flame…
Cough, cough… The thought triggered another fit.
“Madam, how are you feeling today? Should I fetch the physician?”
Dousha patted her back, ready to summon help.
“Don’t—cough—I’m fine…”
After sipping warm tea to soothe her throat, she asked, “Let me see today’s meal…”
Dousha hesitated, then stiffly unpacked the food box:
A bowl of rice, a clear tofu soup with nothing but scallions, stir-fried radish strips, and boiled cabbage…
Concubine Ruan’s expression remained calm, as if accustomed to it. “And yours?”
Dousha wavered, but the two maids couldn’t hold back. They opened their box to reveal a few steamed buns—two slightly whiter ones (likely Dousha’s portion) and the rest dark, unappetizing lumps.
“Madam, it’s not that we can’t endure hardship, but the food grows worse by the day. These buns are hard enough to build a house with!
“Even a sturdy donkey would break its teeth trying to chew them!
“And eating nothing but plain buns without even a pinch of salt—we used to at least get pickles…”
“Aye, now there’s not a speck of flavor. Feels like the famine years of my childhood!
“At this rate, we’ll be knocking on the King of Hell’s door ahead of schedule!”
The two maids alternated complaints, wiping tears.
Since Sheng Mingshu began his studies, these maids had resolved to serve Concubine Ruan faithfully.
Master Sheng had even considered putting her in charge of household affairs—until she “fell ill” with a persistent cold, letting the lucrative opportunity slip away.
Still, the maids believed they’d chosen well. They’d grown diligent, offering at least half-hearted loyalty—a rarity among low-ranking servants.
What they didn’t know was that Concubine Ruan’s “illness” was deliberate.
(Though not entirely feigned—her winter coughs were genuine, as any physician could confirm.)
With the master, young masters, and Sixth Young Miss united against the madam, Concubine Ruan had no intention of stepping into the fray.
Besides, it was the madam—not the master—who had arranged Mingshu’s education. She owed the madam her allegiance.
“Dousha, take some silver to the side gate and quietly buy soft flatbread and pickles for everyone to share…”
“We couldn’t possibly trouble you for money…” The maids flushed with embarrassment.
Having lost her appetite, Concubine Ruan also pushed her own meal toward them. Grateful, the maids retreated.
“Take extra silver—get some salted duck eggs and dried tofu too. Deliver portions to Mingshu, Sister Ashui, and Sister Fu…”
Dousha’s eyes widened in protest. “Madam, just send to the Fourth Young Master! Your savings aren’t limitless—you can’t play the generous fairy every day!”
“Silly girl, these are small expenses. A little kindness goes far…”
Dousha pouted. “The food’s cheap, but bribing the gatekeepers isn’t! Fine—we’ll send to Concubine Shui too, but no more!”
Concubine Ruan understood Dousha’s pragmatism. Sometimes, selfishness made life easier.
Were she alone, she might’ve turned a blind eye. But she had Mingshu to think of.
Sister Fu had been kind to her when she first entered the household—a decent, pitiable soul.
And Ashui? Their years of interaction had earned Concubine Ruan’s trust.
If she or Mingshu ever needed aid, these two would lend a hand.
She tapped Dousha’s forehead. “A single tree doesn’t make a forest. You know our standing here—in hard times, we must help each other…”
“Besides, the master’s favorites have surely already bribed their way to better meals. The gatekeepers will be easier to deal with now—it won’t cost much.”
Only then did Dousha relent, though her grudging steps suggested she’d buy the bare minimum.
Concubine Ruan shook her head in amusement.
No matter. If she guessed right, these lean days would soon end.
The current madam wasn’t one to retreat. She would surely strike back—and soon.
