Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Jiang Jiang’s Ambition
Steam curled above the fresh dishes in the Gu Residence dining hall, turning the air warm and fragrant.
“Brother, eat more.” Gu Yan Huan’s chopsticks barely paused as she kept placing food into Gu Yan Qing’s bowl. “You’ve been buried in court affairs lately. You’re getting so thin.”
This meal was entirely her doing. Over the years, she’d learned music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, then picked up needlework—and finally, cooking.
Gu Yan Qing didn’t want her wearing herself out, but Gu Yan Huan didn’t mind. She couldn’t stand the thought of dragging him down, and she refused to give the capital’s noble ladies anything to sneer at.
More than that, Gu Yan Qing truly couldn’t get used to the food in the capital.
Back in He Zhou, meals had always been light. And when they were young, their family had suffered disaster; she and her brother had nearly starved. Since then, Gu Yan Qing’s stomach had never fully recovered. He couldn’t handle heavy, oily food.
So after coming to the capital, Gu Yan Huan did everything she could to recreate their hometown flavors—clean, light, and nourishing.
“Enough.” Gu Yan Qing finally looked down at the mountain in his bowl and surrendered. “Stop feeding me. You eat too.”
“I did eat.”
He studied her with solemn seriousness. “A girl should eat more. Fair and chubby—that’s pretty.”
Gu Yan Huan’s eyebrow twitched. Her brother truly did not understand women.
Everyone in the capital knew what was fashionable now: thin and pale, like a fragile porcelain doll.
And here he was, praising “chubby.”
“Brother, you don’t get it,” she said, lowering her voice as if it were a confession. “Too fat isn’t pretty. I… I’ve eaten enough.”
Gu Yan Qing glanced at her bowl.
A few grains of rice. That was it.
He couldn’t understand it, not even a little, but he swallowed the questions. His sister had grown up. She had her own mind now.
“All right.” He sighed. “I won’t argue.”
Gu Yan Huan’s eyes brightened at once. “Oh—Brother. There was a Qiong Lin Banquet in the palace today, wasn’t there? It must’ve been lively.”
“It was fine.” His tone stayed calm, but his gaze softened. “His Majesty was in a good mood. Once he gets excited, the wine never stops. I’d guess the Qiong Lin Banquet will run past midnight.”
He paused, practical as always. “The Imperial Guards and the Five-City Military Patrol Office already posted extra men near the Imperial City. After the banquet, they’ll have people escort the metropolitan graduates home.”
He didn’t add the real reason he’d left early: the emperor could drink a thousand cups without swaying, but Gu Yan Qing couldn’t. One drink too many, and his stomach would punish him for the rest of the night.
He’d never told anyone—not even Emperor Jianping. The emperor still thought Gu Yan Qing simply disdained playing nice with his colleagues.
Outside the capital, Willow Spring Lane was as lively as it had been yesterday.
Gifts kept arriving. Congratulations kept piling up.
Jiang Ping didn’t go teach at the private school today. He stayed home to receive guests, smiling until his cheeks hurt. Willow Spring Lane had produced a metropolitan graduate—something that hadn’t happened in decades. Jiang Ping could ride that pride into his grave.
Jiang Jiang, for once, behaved beautifully. She stayed glued to Mu Wan Ling’s side, fetching this, carrying that, making herself useful.
That only encouraged the matchmakers.
“Jiang Jiang isn’t young anymore, is she?” one of them chirped. “Has she been promised to anyone?”
Yesterday, those matchmakers had aimed at Jiang Chao Sheng. Jiang Ping and his wife had shut them down so fast they practically slammed the doors on their noses.
As if.
Their son was a tribute student now, a man with a future official career. The Jiang family’s daughter-in-law had to come from a proper scholarly household.
So today, the matchmakers pivoted—straight onto Jiang Jiang.
Jiang Jiang’s scalp went tight. She shivered.
I’m not even sixteen. Please, aunties. Have mercy.
“This era really starts pushing marriage early,” she muttered, then turned and ran.
“I’m still little! I don’t want to get married!”
She burst out of their encirclement and sprinted to the courtyard gate, stopping only when her lungs started protesting.
Matchmakers in this era were terrifying.
In her past life, she’d lived over twenty years. She wasn’t some never-dated-in-her-life innocent. Back in middle school, boys had slipped her love letters because she looked sweet.
But she’d been an orphan, hungry and tired and scrambling to survive. Romance had been a luxury she couldn’t afford. She’d poured everything into the college entrance exam, desperate to claw her way into a better life.
After she turned eighteen, a classmate confessed. He was handsome. She’d liked him a little. She’d said yes.
People said first love was sweet. Even when they went to different universities, he’d taken trains during holidays just to see her.
Then he cheated—spectacularly.
Sweet first love? What a joke.
Men were all trash.
Because she wouldn’t let him go further, he’d betrayed her—twice, at the same time. When she found out, the mistress and the other mistress were already tearing each other apart over him.
Jiang Jiang hadn’t argued. She hadn’t begged. She’d simply walked away.
Some men acted like their faces were a license to rot. Some women let their morals follow their eyes, worshipping a pretty shell and ignoring the stink underneath.
Jiang Jiang wasn’t a saint. She liked handsome men too.
But she hated cheating and betrayal more.
In her past life, it was her father’s affair that drove her mother to suicide—and left Jiang Jiang an orphan.
Now she had family again. A home. Warmth. Love.
The only problem was that this world ran on polygamy.
In this era, a man could take three wives and four concubines, and the richer he was, the more he collected. If her father weren’t spending money to keep Jiang Chao Sheng in an expensive academy—and to support Jiang Jiang’s weak body—their household might have gained another mouth long ago.
In this world, only the poor weren’t “qualified” to take concubines.
Jiang Jiang sighed.
No good matches for her, then. Fine. She’d make money, become a rich lady, and live however she pleased. Keep a few pretty boys. One cold and gorgeous. One sweet and clingy.
That was the way.
She was halfway into her glorious fantasy when the matchmakers’ voices rose behind her, sharp and competitive, as if they’d started arguing.
Someone was even boasting that it was fine to marry some Willow Spring Lane girl to Jiang Chao Sheng as a concubine—no problem at all.
Jiang Jiang’s mouth went flat. This world really wasn’t the one she knew.
She looked up—and froze.
A squad hurried into the lane, all wearing official uniforms.
Constables.
Since the last murder on Willow Spring Lane, this was only the second time she’d seen them here.
Her heart started racing. Something happened?
They passed right by her and knocked on the neighboring gate.
The Li family.
The door opened. The constables filed in, and a moment later, a raw, desperate wail tore through the courtyard.
Madam Wang.
Then Li Er Shan’s sobbing joined it, ragged and broken.
Jiang Jiang moved without thinking. She rushed to the Li family’s open gate and looked inside.
Madam Wang was on her knees, clutching a blood-soaked garment, crying until her face was ruined by tears. Li Er Shan’s cheeks were slick with snot and grief, his eyes red and swollen.
A cold dread climbed Jiang Jiang’s spine.
“Brother Er Shan…” she called, her voice shaking.
Li Er Shan saw her—and collapsed harder, as if her presence finally made it real. “Jiang Jiang… Jiang Jiang… they said… they said my dad and my brother… they’re gone.”