“This one? It’s nothing special,” Dongchun said with a casual wave. “It’s just a cedon-gzed teapot, probably worth a few hundred taels of silver. Not nearly as good as what we used back at home. If it weren’t for the long journey from Jinling to Bianjing, and the risk of it breaking in the carriage, we’d never use something this cheap.”
Thinking Ji Ping’an was dissatisfied with the set, she quickly added with a smile, “Miss, once the shipment from the water route arrives, I’ll switch it out for the kind we use at home. This set was fired from a small local kiln—not even close to the quality of the big kilns.”
Ji Ping’an: “……” So this… is what real wealth looks like?
She took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and mentally braced herself. Then she pointed to a garish, colorful jade pendant lying on the table. “And this one?”
The pendant was bright, almost gaudy-looking. From Ji Ping’an’s very limited knowledge of jade, the purer the color, the more valuable it usually was. This multicolored thing… shouldn’t be worth much, right?
Dongchun replied, “Oh, that’s not expensive either—just over five thousand taels. Miss, you forgot? That’s Master Zhou Xia’s final masterpiece. He made it as a full-month gift when you were a baby. The carving is a lifelike peacock, and every bit of the coloration and texture is modeled from the original stone. It’s so finely detailed in the delicate areas that it’s said to be near impossible to replicate—true craftsmanship that turns stone into treasure.”
Ji Ping’an felt her heart stop.
She didn’t want to ask any more.
She was so jealous.
Dongchun tilted her head. “Miss, are you… feeling upset about parting with some of these things?”
Back in the day, when the Ji family was still thriving, many people came by hoping to borrow money, favors, contacts—anything. They all said the same thing: “I’ll repay this kindness a thousandfold,” “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me,” “I’d be a sve for you in my next life!” But in reality, maybe one in a hundred ever repaid their debts. And maybe one in a thousand ever actually came back to return the favor.
Dongchun used to hear this sort of talk around the house. One time, curious, she’d asked Master Ji why he still lent things out so freely. He’d ughed and said, “You’re still too young to understand. For people like us in business, reputation is more important than money. And if even one person comes back to repay the kindness, that single person is worth more than all the silver in the world.”
Dongchun gave a little nod and said, “Miss, don’t feel bad. I didn’t even take out the really valuable stuff.”
Ji Ping’an felt her soul leave her body. Wait— what she just lent out, worth tens of thousands of taels, wasn’t the good stuff?
Dongchun proudly tilted her chin. “You told me yourself, remember? The truly precious things should be kept for yourself. Gifts and loans should be just enough to match the occasion and social expectations—there’s no need to present your finest treasures. If something happens to them, it’ll only hurt your own heart. The real valuables are still locked away in our chests.”
Ji Ping’an took another deep breath. “Dongchun.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“Dongchun, Father’s gone. We’re guests here at the Song estate. What we eat, wear, and use must never surpass the hosts.”
“But… wouldn’t that be unfair to you?”
“It’s not,” Ji Ping’an said, pinching the bridge of her nose. I used to survive on 3 pig’s feet rice bowls back home. This is nothing.
She continued seriously, “Dongchun, wealth stirs the hearts of others. Having too much money isn’t always a blessing—it’s often a curse, especially when we don’t have the strength to protect it. Do you understand?”
Dongchun lowered her head. “Yes, Miss.”
She had seen far too many extravagant things in the Ji household—many of them subtle in value, the kind only experts could truly recognize. In fact, items Dongchun thought of as “ordinary” or “cheap” were still considered extravagant to others.
Ji Ping’an gave another reminder: “From now on, everything we wear and use must always be more modest than our hosts’. Even if it’s secretly expensive, if it looks like luxury, we can’t use it.”
Dongchun pouted in protest. “But what about the blood bird’s nest? Miss, you used to eat it every two or three days. I’ve been waiting for the shipment to come so I can prepare it for you again.”
Ji Ping’an let out a weary sigh. “We won’t be eating bird’s nest from now on.”
Dongchun gave a tearful sniff—she genuinely felt sorry for Ji Ping’an. Miss had it hard. Living under someone else’s roof, she couldn’t even enjoy the nourishing blood bird’s nest she used to eat regurly.
“Oh right,” Ji Ping’an added after thinking a moment. “Go find Uncle Mu. Have him purchase a house in the capital under his name. When the items from the water route arrive, you and he can retrieve them together. After inventory, keep only the basic clothing, cosmetics, and personal necessities here—everything else should stay in that house. Don’t bring it over.”
Dongchun pouted. “Yes, Miss, I’ll do as you say.”
—
The next day, Yan Xishan delivered the Princess’s medical record. But he also brought unfortunate news: the Princess had rejected his recommendation and refused to meet Ji Ping’an.
After all, the Princess was the most revered woman in the empire. She had been tormented by her illness for years, had sought out every famed physician, and had endured countless frauds or opportunists attempting to gain favor through her condition. After years of false hope and bitter disappointment, she had likely given up entirely, resigned to live out the rest of her days in seclusion.
Ji Ping’an had seen patients like that many times during her hospital internship.
A mother clutching her child, a son holding up his father, couples holding hands—people who had sold all they owned, drowning in debt, still hoping for a cure. But illness was merciless, and medicine far from omnipotent. It couldn’t fix everything. It couldn’t resurrect the dead.
At first, these people would cry. Then, after visiting countless hospitals, seeing doctor after doctor, undergoing exam after exam… they became numb. Numb to sorrow, numb to hope. Just hollow shells, helpless in the face of fate.
Ji Ping’an opened the medical record and began reading from five years ago. She needed to know how the Princess’s condition had progressed to its current state.
From that moment on, she remained seated, analyzing everything the Princess had taken—every herb, every dosage—comparing their interactions, searching for a cure.
In the original novel, Song Huaizhang cured the Princess with a miracle pill. It was clearly a cheat item gifted to the male lead. Ji Ping’an, just a side character, had no such blessing. Her only way to succeed was through hard work and meticulous study.
By te night, Dongchun was gently massaging Ji Ping’an’s sore shoulders. “Miss, you’ve been at this all day. Is the illness that difficult?”
“It’s very difficult,” Ji Ping’an replied with a heavy sigh. “Five years is a long time. The treatments she’s tried, the medicines she’s taken—they’ve complicated things so much. A once-simple condition has turned into a tangled mess. I have to trace the thread back, or I’ll never find the right prescription.”
And so she worked tirelessly for two full days.
It wasn’t until Taoxiang came to fetch them that Ji Ping’an remembered—today was the Princess’s birthday banquet.
She quickly changed clothes, picked up the carefully prepared gift, and—leaning weakly on Dongchun—made her way to the front hall.
No matter what they truly thought of each other, Song Zhiyin and Song Zhishu put on a united front. Arm in arm, they spoke kindly to Ji Ping’an, offering st-minute reminders about etiquette at the Princess’s estate. Then the three departed together in a carriage.
—
At sunset, the Princess’s residence was a picture of refined wealth—elegant, tranquil, tasteful.
Given the Princess’s condition, the banquet was held in the garden to allow fresh air and prevent lingering odors. The warm spring breeze carried the faint scent of blooming flowers.
Upon entry, all gifts were logged by the maids, each tagged with a number for accounting against a gift registry—nothing left to chance.
After submitting gifts, the maids were led to a designated resting area.
Ji Ping’an, Song Zhiyin, and Song Zhishu were assigned seats in the same area. Before the banquet officially began, the dies were free to mingle.
Song Zhiyin was soon pulled away by the Minister of Revenue’s daughter for some private gossip.
Ji Ping’an quietly observed the surroundings. Though this was a gathering of noble dies, the power lines were clearly drawn.
She and Song Zhishu were within one particur group—even the way the girls stood and chatted in clusters reflected a subtle, yet palpable, cohesion. Other groups were just as distinct, clear social factions.
Across from her, a young woman sat gracefully, her hair pinned with jewel-studded ornaments. She wore a smoky vender, wide-sleeved robe over a white dress embroidered with butterflies. Her features were striking—elegant and pale—but her gaze held a mocking gleam.
Ji Ping’an turned slightly and covered her mouth with her handkerchief, whispering, “Cousin Zhishu, who is that girl across from us?”
Song Zhishu followed her gaze. The moment she met eyes with the other girl, that one smirked.
Song Zhishu instantly gred back.
The other girl rolled her eyes and turned away, her expression full of disdain.
Song Zhishu let out a little scoff and said, “Don’t bother with her. She’s trash.”
Ji Ping’an raised an eyebrow. “Who is she?”
Song Zhishu lowered her voice. “That’s Zhou Pingping from Chengping Marquis’s household. Completely useless. Doesn’t know a lick of poetry or music—just eats, drinks, and pys all day, just like her mother.”
Seeing Ji Ping’an’s curiosity, she leaned in conspiratorially. “Let me tell you something, but just because you’re family. Chengping Marquis is the emperor’s uncle. Even the te emperor didn’t like him. Word is, the man was sneaking around pleasure houses by the time he was thirteen. Damaged his health early and couldn’t produce an heir. So what does he do? Spends a fortune consulting fortune-tellers. One of them tells him that a certain woman from the Chen family has a divine womb. Next thing you know, he’s marrying Chen Luoyan, a concubine-born daughter, as his main wife.”
Song Zhishu rolled her eyes. "Chen Luoyan is a hopeless yabout—rumor has it she does nothing but eat and sleep. Her own family had already given up on her, believing she would end up marrying into some minor household. But after she snagged the Marquis? Ugh, she started acting like royalty. She made a huge spectacle when visiting her parents just three days after the wedding. The entire Chen family was humiliated. Now, she’s in charge of the household finances, spending like crazy, treating the servants poorly, and running the pce into the ground."
