Long before marriage ever became imminent, Ji Wanqing had already prepared herself mentally. In this world, there were indeed husbands and wives who belonged to one another alone—like her parents—but such unions were exceedingly rare. Far more common were men who kept wives and concubines in abundance, reveling in the so-called blessings of many companions.
Ji Wanqing never assumed she would be fortunate enough to encounter a man like her father. Thus, she had long made preparations for two possible outcomes. Should she truly meet the latter kind, she would simply treat marriage as employment. If no better post were available, she would perform her duties well, hold on to the position steadily, and work until the day she retired—at the end of her life.
With an even temper and no illusions, if that man could at least become a competent partner and they managed to coexist in harmony, then such a life would not be unbearable.
Now, the Empress's scheming had merely added risk to this "profession." Her overall strategy, however, remained unchanged: do her job well, respond to challenges as they came.
Lihua clasped her hands together, murmuring softly, "Even if it's a political marriage, I still hope they can find a decent family for Miss."
Ji Wanqing did not respond. Her situation reeked of strangeness from every angle—it defied common sense. Any truly "decent" match would likely never fall to her. After all, her uncle's legitimate daughter was soon to come of age, and her cousin was now, in name and in fact, the cherished daughter of the Marquis of Jingbei.
Still, she said nothing further. Lihua was loyal and devoted, and Ji Wanqing did not wish to burden her with excessive worry, so she merely voiced a few agreeable words.
The carriage wheels rolled steadily, and before long they arrived at the Marquis of Jingbei's residence. The carriage entered through the side gate and came to a stop before the second ornamental archway. Ji Wanqing was assisted down.
Layered eaves soared overhead, courtyards stretched deep and quiet. The scenery before her was achingly familiar—a place where she had once scattered endless laughter. Yet now, all had changed. After three years, Ji Wanqing had long since tempered herself; her expression did not shift as she walked toward the rear halls.
The main residence of the inner quarters, Yan Shou Hall, housed her paternal grandmother, Lady He, the Dowager Madam. Ji Wanqing's father and uncle had both been Lady He's sons. Though the title of Marquis of Jingbei had passed to another, the old matriarch still lived here, steady and unshaken.
"Wanqing greets Grandmother," Ji Wanqing said upon entering, lowering herself in a proper curtsey to the seat of honor.
"No need for such formality. Rise and sit," Lady He replied.
Lady He was nearing sixty, yet well cared for, appearing no more than fifty. Her skin was fair, her eyes sharp and clear. Her rounded coiffure, threaded with strands of silver, was bound with a wide jade-inlaid brow band. She wore a sapphire-blue jacket embroidered with auspicious patterns, neat and dignified, radiating vigor. The shadow of losing her eldest son young seemed to have long since faded.
Her feelings toward Ji Wanqing, her eldest granddaughter, were complicated. In the past, she had disliked her eldest daughter-in-law for monopolizing her son, and by extension had not cared much for the two granddaughters. Now that both girls had lost their parents, she felt a measure of pity.
But none of that outweighed the future of the household.
The eldest son had been capable; the second was mediocre—this Lady He knew well. Now that the second son had inherited the title, yet lacked military service, he could not lay hands on the influence his father and elder brother had built over years in the army. The decline of the Marquis's household was already apparent. A way out had to be found, and quickly.
The second son's move to align himself with Empress Ji of the Linjiang Marquisate was something Lady He understood clearly. She knew exactly why Ji Wanqing had been summoned to the palace—and she had tacitly allowed it.
Ji Wanqing's expression remained placid, betraying nothing. Yet it was precisely this calm that made Lady He feel awkward, as though her own intentions had been fully seen through.
Even though Lady He firmly believed that, as a daughter of the Ji family, contributing to the clan when necessary was only right, at this moment she still felt profoundly ill at ease.
Clearing her throat, Lady He said, "You've spent half the day in the palace, Eldest Girl. You must be tired. Go back, have your midday meal, and rest properly."
Ji Wanqing truly was calm. She understood clearly that the moment her father died, the master of the household had changed—and with that, the standing of her sister and herself. Things had changed; people had changed. Even her grandmother was no longer the grandmother she once knew.
It was realistic. And entirely normal.
Ji Wanqing rose smoothly from the rosewood chair she had barely warmed and took her leave.
Her residence, Chaoxia Courtyard, was the finest in the inner quarters aside from the main hall, chosen with care by her parents years ago. After the upheaval three years prior, Ji Wanqing had brought her younger sister to live with her here.
The sisters occupied rooms on either side of the main hall. Ji Wanqing went straight into the inner chamber on the left, washed her hands and face, and changed into everyday clothes. Yet she did not see her sister and asked in surprise, "Where is Second Miss? Is she feeling unwell?"
Her sister, Ji Wanxiang, took after their mother and had always been delicate, prone to minor illnesses since childhood. After losing their parents and elder brother, her condition had worsened for a time. Ji Wanqing, worried, had brought her to live together and cared for her meticulously until she improved.
The sisters were close, now all the more dependent on one another. After learning yesterday of the Empress's summons, Ji Wanxiang had been anxious and restless with worry. If nothing had delayed her, she should have rushed in long ago.
"Reporting to Miss," replied He-shi, Ji Wanqing's wet nurse, "Second Miss is not unwell. She was summoned by the Second Madam."
He-shi had once been a maid in Madam Ji's dowry, later becoming the young mistress's wet nurse. She had cared for Ji Wanqing for over a decade, and though it was presumptuous to say so, she treated her as her own flesh and blood.
The "Second Madam" she referred to was Ji Wanqing's aunt by marriage—the current Marchioness. He-shi and the others were stubborn in private and refused to change how they addressed her.
He-shi looked deeply worried. "Second Miss went to pay her respects to the Dowager Madam. After Yan Shou Hall dispersed, the Second Madam brought her away. She hasn't returned since."
Ji Wanqing frowned. Her aunt came from an ordinary background, narrow in outlook. Having risen suddenly in status, she was exceedingly pleased with herself and habitually put on airs as the Marchioness. Yet it was unheard of for her to summon the sisters privately like this.
It seemed that the moment their mourning period ended, all manner of specters had begun to stir.
Ji Wanqing glanced at the sky—it was already past noon. She was just about to go out and fetch her sister when Ji Wanxiang returned.
The sisters were twins. As children, they had looked nearly identical, but as they grew older, the differences became clear. Now they resembled each other only five or six parts out of ten—both stunning beauties.
Ji Wanxiang resembled their mother more: willowy brows like slender leaves, soft eyes tinged with fragility, like a gentle lady stepping out of a classical painting. Ji Wanqing, however, had inherited several features from their father—slightly lifted brows and eyes, an air of vitality and brilliance when she glanced about, lending her a faintly heroic grace.
Ji Wanqing had a sharp eye. Even though her sister had deliberately tried to conceal it, she still noticed the faint redness at the corners of Ji Wanxiang's eyes.