Chapter 7 My Brother is Very Honest

Madam Xiao left satisfied, and Xu Rong returned to her courtyard, equally pleased as she placed the jade bracelet into her jewelry box.

The following days passed uneventfully, with all parties caught in a tense anticipation. Madam Xiao waited to reel in her catch, Madam Xu waited for Madam Xiao to persuade the Zhang family to release their hold, and Xu Rong waited for the drama that would unfold five days later. Only one minor incident occurred in the meantime.

It was Xu Rong’s former head maid, Zhi Tao, who came seeking her.

Xu Rong assumed she had a request, but judging by her appearance, Zhi Tao seemed to be doing well—her clothes were neat and tidy, though her expression was a mix of panic and indignation.

Xu Rong raised a brow and asked, “What’s the matter?”

Zhi Tao couldn’t wait for her to finish speaking before blurting out, “Miss, I heard Madam Xiao came and canceled your previous engagement, arranging for you to marry that son of a concubine from the Xiao Family instead?!”

Madam Xiao had come openly, and Madam Xu hadn’t even thought to silence the servants, so the news had already spread throughout the household. Xu Rong nodded. “Yes.”

Zhi Tao leaned forward as if she couldn’t believe it. “And Madam really agreed?”

Xu Rong nodded again. “Yes.”

Before Madam Xiao left the previous day, she had forced Madam Xu to retrieve the original engagement contract, tear it up, and draft a new one for each party to keep. This was no longer just a verbal agreement. Still, whether spoken or written, it was Madam Xu who had consented—Xu Rong hadn’t said a word.

Nor did she feel it had anything to do with her.

But Zhi Tao clutched her chest and gasped. “How—how could they do this?!”

Her outburst brought tears to Bai Fu’s eyes as she returned. Unable to hold back, Bai Fu rubbed her eyes and said, “Exactly! Madam is too foolish. Even if the Marquis is important, she shouldn’t make such a careless decision about your future.”

Zhi Tao didn’t respond, standing dazed in the room as if struck by a blow. Bai Fu offered her tea, but she didn’t take it.

Bai Fu thought she understood and sighed. “Ah, no one in the household dares to oppose Madam. People like us can only complain uselessly.”

Zhi Tao snapped out of her daze, gritting her teeth as tears fell. “…Yes, no one cares what we say.”

She stumbled out of the room.

Bai Fu escorted her all the way to the door before returning with a sigh. “Zhi Tao still cares about you, Miss. She’s upset on your behalf.”

Xu Rong neither agreed nor disagreed.

With no one else to confide in—Qing Zao and Hong Liu were still too young, barely mastering the basic rules of serving—Bai Fu unconsciously drew closer to Xu Rong. After discussing Zhi Tao, she hesitantly added, “Miss, my brother said he’s willing to arrange a meeting with Second Master Luo. But since Second Master Luo used to visit the manor often, even though my brother never served him directly, they might have crossed paths before. He might recognize my brother.”

Xu Rong straightened slightly. “That’s fine. Tell your brother not to bring it up himself, but if he’s recognized, there’s no need to deny it. This is our family’s affair, after all. If he happens to encounter something while carrying out his duties, it’s only natural.”

Bai Fu nodded, committing the instructions to memory, then asked, “But if my brother meets with Second Master Luo and questions him, will he admit it? Since my brother didn’t catch him in the act back then, he’ll probably deny everything now.”

Xu Rong shook her head with a faint smile. “Who said anything about questioning him? If you ask outright, of course he’ll deny it.”

Bai Fu frowned. “Then what should we do?”

Xu Rong tapped the lid of the teacup she’d been fiddling with against the kang table, producing a crisp sound. “Ask him for money.”

Bai Fu froze, “—Huh?”

Xu Rong spoke slowly, guiding her, “Second Master Luo just got a pouch, didn’t he? Your brother saw it with his own eyes. So, just have your brother ask him how he got it from Xiao Lun’s men the same way he took it.”

Bai Fu blinked, still a bit confused.

What a silly girl.

Xu Rong found it amusing but didn’t mind. She didn’t want overly shrewd people around her—like Zhi Tao, who had just stormed out in tears.

Xu Rong couldn’t be bothered to dig deeper into whose sake Zhi Tao was so distraught for, but she was certain it wasn’t for her.

“Second Master Luo has done something that offends both the Duke of Ying’s Mansion and our Marquis of Ji’an Manor. For his own safety, he’d never admit it to anyone. But what if you’re not trying to force him to reveal the truth but just asking him for hush money?”

Bai Fu’s bewildered eyes widened as she slowly caught on, “Miss, you mean—blackmail him?”

“Yes,” Xu Rong nodded. “Tell your brother to describe his meeting with the Xiao Family vividly. If that doesn’t scare him, threaten to report it to the Duke of Ying’s Mansion and our household. I’m sure someone would be willing to reward him.”

Bai Fu’s eyes lit up, “If he’s willing to pay, it proves he’s guilty?”

“Exactly.”

“Miss, how—how did you come up with this?”

A mix of astonishment and excitement surged in Bai Fu’s heart. She paced from one end of the bed to the other, circled back, then voiced a new worry, “Miss, what if Second Master Luo still refuses to fall for it? Or if my brother is too clumsy and gives himself away, ruining your plan—”

This wasn’t as simple as tailing someone. Bai Fu found it daunting.

“That’s alright. Second Master Luo might take the bait, or he might not. But remember, no thief in this world is without guilt. He can’t hide all his flaws. As long as there’s a crack, the final say won’t be his.”

Bai Fu struggled to grasp it, then tentatively asked, “—Young Master Zhang?”

Xu Rong smiled and nodded.

A spoiled youngest son, frequenting pleasure quarters, quick to throw punches, unable to stay home even with a broken arm—all these traits painted a vivid picture of a reckless young noble.

How much evidence would such a young master need to judge the situation?

None at all.

**

The fourth day of the ninth month.

Late autumn, the wind carried a biting chill, and pedestrians on the streets had switched to layered clothing.

Xu Rong lifted the carriage curtain slightly to peer outside.

This was her first time stepping out of the Marquis of Ji’an Manor—how she convinced Madam Xu need not be detailed; she was truly an easy woman to fool. After watching two streets pass by from the carriage, Xu Rong admitted there wasn’t much to see.

It wasn’t quite like the sets from period dramas she’d glimpsed, yet there were similarities. Shops lined both sides of the street, their signs and banners varied. Peddlers hawked their wares from shoulder poles, carriages of different sizes rolled by, and people dressed in silk or coarse cloth bustled about—a scene of relative peace and prosperity.

Xu Rong grew bored and let the curtain fall, pressing a hand to her chest.

There was truly little stirring inside her. She guessed her heart had grown old, numbed to novelty. Centuries of temporal displacement meant nothing to her now.

Bai Fu misunderstood and leaned in to whisper, “Is the young lady nervous? Don’t worry, we’ve brought enough people. If anything goes wrong, no matter how they act up, we’ll make sure to get you safely back to the manor.”

Xu Rong didn’t correct her, simply nodding. “Mm.”

The carriage gradually slowed down. Xu Rong lifted the curtain again and saw a two-story teahouse named “Juming Lou” ahead. She tapped the carriage wall with her fingers. “Alright, stop here.”

The coachman obediently reined in the horses.

Xu Rong put on her veiled hat and, with Bai Fu’s support, stepped out of the carriage and headed toward the teahouse.

A waiter with a white towel draped over his shoulder approached politely to inquire. Bai Fu, her voice tight, informed him that they had reserved the private room “Sweet Dew” on the second floor in advance. The waiter immediately bowed slightly and eagerly led the way.

The private room was clean and tidy. Once seated, the waiter served tea and snacks. Amid the clear fragrance of tea, Bai Fu kept anxiously peeking through the window crack at the bustling hall downstairs.

She had never done anything like this before. At most, she had accompanied Xu Rong out to admire flowers or attended banquets—but those were always within the circles of noble ladies. Today’s venture was far beyond her understanding, and even though she had relayed most of the arrangements, she was still uneasy.

To avoid running into the other party, Xu Rong had left much earlier than planned. Now, she was in no hurry, sampling each of the four types of snacks on the table and leisurely sipping half a cup of tea before finally hearing Bai Fu’s nervous voice. “Young lady, the one downstairs—is that Young Master Zhang?”

Xu Rong leaned over to look. She didn’t recognize Young Master Zhang, but his distinguishing features were obvious: a jade crown binding his hair, luxurious brocade robes, and one arm still in a sling, the splint not yet removed.

He was actually the first to arrive—truly resilient despite his injury, a testament to how eager he was to escape the confines of his manor.

Zhang Weiling walked briskly. Xu Rong saw him charge up the stairs without even asking the waiter, two burly men following closely behind, with the waiter hurrying after them.

Bai Fu sank back into her seat, somewhat relieved. “Now that Young Master Zhang is here, it’ll be fine.”

If he hadn’t shown up, their entire plan would have been for nothing.

Xu Rong casually praised, “Second Young Master Xiao is a man of his word.”

Grumpy as he might be, his actions were reliable.

Bai Fu didn’t want to talk about Xiao Xin—he wasn’t worthy of her young lady, and the sooner this betrothal was over, the better.

So she sat for only a moment before straightening up again, craning her neck until she spotted a familiar figure outside the teahouse. She recognized him immediately and said quickly, “Young lady, my brother is here.”

Xu Rong responded with an “Mm,” squinting to see. From a distance and through the narrow window crack, she couldn’t make out much—just a plainly dressed young man.

Bai Fu’s brother had also reserved a private room in advance—”Rain Flower,” to the right of “Sweet Dew.”

Xu Rong pricked up her ears and gradually heard some conversation next door—between Bai Fu’s brother and the waiter. The voices soon faded, and the neighboring room fell silent again.

After about half a cup of tea’s time, Xu Rong finally heard the sound of the waiter leading someone else in, only to be quickly dismissed.

“You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?” A cold, unfamiliar man’s voice broke the silence after a moment.

“Esteemed sir, I am but a lowly man. People like me are a dime a dozen on the streets. If you find my face familiar, it is my great honor.”

Xu Rong raised an eyebrow slightly and glanced at Bai Fu.

Her sister was a gentle, transparent girl, but who knew her brother would be so intriguing.

The soundproofing of buildings in this era was rather limited, and a teahouse wouldn’t invest much in it. A gloomy man’s “Hmph!” came through clearly: “Don’t play dumb with me. I came to see what kind of gutter rat you are—spouting nonsense and daring to scheme against me!”

His voice lowered, but the rough tone still carried: “Do you know what my family does?”

Bai Fu’s brother replied respectfully and steadily: “To answer your question, sir, that day I followed you all the way from your mansion to Willow Lane.”

Meaning he certainly knew the Luo family’s status.

“You—!” Second Master Luo suddenly cut himself off and let out a dry laugh. “What Willow Lane? I’ve been staying home cultivating myself lately, never been to any willow or flower lanes. What nonsense are you spouting!”

“If you say I’m spouting nonsense, sir, I dare not deny it,” Bai Fu’s brother’s voice remained unhurried. “But as you know, sir, spouting nonsense isn’t something I can control. Since you’re here, why not listen a little longer? If you dislike what you hear, I’ll leave immediately without bothering you further. But if you catch my drift, I beg you to show some generosity—just a little scrap from your fingers would earn my eternal gratitude. I’ll make sure to keep my mouth tightly shut afterward, sparing you any trouble.”

Xu Rong clutched her teacup, half-collapsed on the table, silently laughing.

Bai Fu flushed crimson and whispered awkwardly: “Miss, my brother—his words are a bit crude, but he’s actually very honest.”

Xu Rong waved her hand dismissively, then pointed to the next room. Bai Fu quickly retreated, covering her mouth.

Second Master Luo sneered: “Fine, speak! If you dare waste my time with more nonsense, I’ll tear your mouth apart!”

Unfazed, Bai Fu’s brother didn’t immediately resort to blackmail but said: “There’s no need for such anger, sir. At heart, you and I are the same. You seek wealth through danger, daring even to scheme against the Duke of Ying’s Mansion—a household as lofty as the clouds. I, with nothing but my wretched life, can only beg for your mercy to build a future—”

“What Duke of…!” Second Master Luo’s voice abruptly dropped to a murmur.

“Since I’ve spoken this plainly, why pretend ignorance, sir?” Bai Fu’s brother lowered his voice too, though still slightly louder. “If the Duke of Ying’s Mansion learns how Young Master Zhang really broke his arm, even if you were reborn as Nezha with six arms to spare, you couldn’t appease the Duke’s wrath.”

Bang!

The sound of a teacup slammed onto the table.

Xu Rong straightened, fully attentive now. Impressed, she gave Bai Fu a thumbs-up.

This man—he was usable.