Chapter 47

Chapter 47: What If Your Bestie Becomes Your Cousin-in-Law?

At the General Manor, in Second Miss Lin Yu Jiao’s Parasol Tree Courtyard, autumn had settled in.

A bleak wind rolled a few yellowed leaves across the ground, then dropped them again as if bored.

Lin Yu Jiao picked up an osmanthus cake and took a tiny bite. Sweetness bloomed on her tongue—too sweet, too tame.

Her eyes flicked around. Then, like a cat sneaking stolen fish, she leaned toward her closest friend, Qiu Ru Ying, and lowered her voice.

“Ying Ying, I’ve got earth-shattering gossip. Something about my Buddhist Scion cousin—you’ll never guess it.”

Qiu Ru Ying cradled a teacup, sipping new autumn tea with unhurried grace. She curved her lips, calm as ever.

“What could possibly make you this delighted?”

“Delighted?” Lin Yu Jiao clicked her tongue. “This is called having my horizons blown open. It’s breathtaking. Life-changing.”

She tossed the osmanthus cake back onto the plate in disgust, rubbed her hands, and began in a conspiratorial whisper.

“You know my Buddhist Scion cousin, right? Always acting pure and desireless, like he doesn’t even touch the dust of the mortal world. Cold, distant, abstinent—so proper it’s unbearable.”

Halfway through, she abruptly stopped, craned her neck, and looked left and right like a thief.

Only after confirming no one was nearby did she lean closer, voice dropping even lower.

“But behind the scenes? He’s tangled up with a little maid.”

The words struck like lightning.

Qiu Ru Ying’s fingers paused on the teacup—so slight it was almost impossible to see.

Heat seeped through the porcelain, scalding her skin, yet her hand didn’t move.

She lowered her gaze, long lashes shadowing her eyes, hiding whatever surged within.

“A maid?” Her voice was soft—feather-light—and somehow heavy as stone.

“Oh—slip of the tongue!” Lin Yu Jiao slapped her own mouth, but her excitement refused to be contained. She leaned in again, practically breathing into Qiu Ru Ying’s ear.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone. If this reaches my Eldest Aunt, she’ll skin me alive.”

Then she whispered the real punchline, eyes gleaming with thrill.

“It’s Xiao Man from the Auspicious Cloud Residence. Bold enough to shatter the sky—she sneaks into my cousin’s room at night, again and again. And the wildest part? Old Madam permits it. A few days ago she even rewarded her with a pair of mandarin-duck pillows!”

Clack.

Qiu Ru Ying set the cup down too hard. Tea splashed, blooming into small stains on her plain skirt.

She lifted her eyes.

The gaze that was usually gentle as water looked as if a boulder had been thrown into it—waves spreading, churning, rising.

A Buddhist Scion… with a maid?

How could that be?

That man, cool as moonlight, detached from all things—how could he touch such worldly mess?

After a beat, Qiu Ru Ying spoke, and there was an urgency in it she didn’t recognize as her own.

“Take me to see this maid.”

Less than a quarter-hour later, in a side courtyard of the Auspicious Cloud Residence, two slender figures crouched behind a waist-high shrub, peeking like guilty children.

“Are we really doing this?” Qiu Ru Ying gripped her handkerchief until her knuckles whitened. Even the tips of her ears had gone red. “This… this is improper. If we’re discovered—”

“Discovered by whom?” Lin Yu Jiao was practically vibrating with excitement. “We’re already here. If we don’t look, it’ll be a waste. There—look. That’s Xiao Man.”

Qiu Ru Ying’s heart lurched.

She followed the pointing finger and held her breath.

Afternoon sunlight warmed the courtyard, bright but not harsh. It filtered through dense pear branches, spilling mottled shadows across a clothesline.

A young woman in apricot-colored clothes stood on tiptoe, carefully hanging a pair of brocade pillows.

The pillowcases were festive wedding-red, embroidered in gold thread—mandarin ducks with necks entwined, stitching so fine it looked alive.

In the sun, the gold thread shimmered so sharply it almost hurt to look.

These weren’t ordinary pillows.

They were bridal things.

“My heavens…” Lin Yu Jiao sucked in a breath and clapped a hand over her mouth. “It really is the pair Old Madam rewarded…”

This wasn’t subtle. It was practically a signboard screaming: something is going on.

Qiu Ru Ying stared at the maid’s back.

She wasn’t a stunning beauty. Her figure was slender in the ordinary way of a servant girl.

And yet, with sunlight catching the edge of her hair and tracing her in a soft halo, Qiu Ru Ying found it strangely difficult to look away.

Then the maid turned—sudden, sharp, as if she truly had eyes behind her.

Her gaze cut like lightning, fearless, aimed straight at the shrub.

“Who’s there?”

Lin Yu Jiao’s heart dropped.

She grabbed Qiu Ru Ying to retreat, but in the scramble her foot struck something.

Crack.

A dry branch snapped, loud in the still courtyard—an announcement of their hiding place.

Xiao Man’s brows drew together. Without hesitation, she walked toward them.

Footsteps—nearer, nearer.

Their hearts climbed into their throats, faces whitening.

At the edge of being caught, a calm, authoritative woman’s voice rang out from not far away.

“Miss Qiu, why are you here?”

Both of them went rigid, as if struck by a spell.

They turned.

First Madam Wang stood beneath the moon gate, appearing as silently as a shadow. She wore a dark autumn outfit, posture straight, eyes sharp as flint.

Her stare pinned them in place, as if she could see straight through skin and bone.

Qiu Ru Ying’s mind went blank—but she forced her body to move. She pulled the flustered Lin Yu Jiao out from the shrub and bowed with perfect form.

“Greetings, First Madam.”

Even caught in such a humiliating moment, her manners remained composed—no fluster, no petty panic.

First Madam’s gaze lingered on her face for a long time, scrutiny undisguised, like appraising a rare treasure.

Then, slowly, a meaningful smile appeared.

“Since you’ve come all this way, Miss Qiu, would you care to accompany me to admire the newly bloomed pot marigolds?”

Admiring flowers was the excuse. Questioning her was the point.

In the chrysanthemum beds, blooms of every color flared under the warm sun, competing in a riot of shapes. First Madam Wang snapped off a golden blossom and plucked its petals one by one as she asked, unhurried:

“How old are you this year?”

“What do you usually read at home?”

“And needlework—how skilled are you?”

Question followed question, neat and relentless, from family background to personal habits.

This wasn’t flower-viewing.

This was a future mother-in-law examining a daughter-in-law, step by step.

Qiu Ru Ying lowered her eyes and answered smoothly, voice gentle, neither flattering nor timid.

“Replying to Madam, this girl is seventeen.”

“I like poetry collections and miscellanies. I also read some medical books.”

“My needlework is passable, but I’m not skilled at embroidery.”

First Madam’s smile deepened. The satisfaction in her eyes grew more obvious with each breath.

Lin Yu Jiao watched, stunned, a thought striking so hard she nearly jumped.

Oh no.

That look. Those questions. That tone.

Her Eldest Aunt had clearly taken a liking to Ying Ying.

She was choosing.

And then Lin Yu Jiao’s mind twisted in a different direction.

If her wooden-block cousin ended up with Qiu Ru Ying… honestly, that didn’t sound bad at all.

Ying Ying was cultured, gentle, virtuous—more than enough for that sanctimonious Buddhist Scion.

Bestie becoming cousin-in-law?

Wouldn’t that make them even closer?

Lin Yu Jiao’s heart sparked with sudden, wicked excitement.

Yes.

That was it.

Don’t let the good stuff flow to outsiders.