“Madam, forgive my bluntness. Regardless of your past—which is none of my concern—I, Qi Biao, have only one sincere word to offer. Given your family’s current circumstances, a peaceful life is simply unattainable. The more you withdraw from external affairs, the more they will seek you out, leaving you in a passive position. To put it plainly, you are the mother of three children. Even if not for yourself, think of them. While you hide away in the inner quarters, your children are still young.”
The words of this eleven-year-old boy carried the weight of an adult, sending a chill down Li Cuimei’s spine. She bowed to Qi Biao and said, “Young Master Qi, I never expected someone so young to possess such profound insight. I thank you for your advice. I realize now that I’ve been too stubborn.”
Qi Biao sidestepped her gesture and returned a deep bow. “Forgive my presumption,” he said, glancing at Lin Fang before turning to leave. That single glance left Lin Fang, who had been observing him closely, utterly stunned. The weariness and resignation in his eyes were utterly incongruous with his tender age.
That evening, news of Gao Linglong’s forceful intrusion reached the Li household. Early the next morning, Li Qingyun rode straight to Shengcheng with his men, arriving at the Gao residence even before Gao Linglong. Without a word, he stormed in, causing an uproar and declaring that if such an incident were to happen again, he would not hesitate to leverage his father’s military influence to ruin the Gao family’s business, leaving them homeless and powerless to bully others again.
His outburst left Old Man Gao bewildered, but he dared not retaliate. The Li couple were notorious for their fierce protectiveness, and if provoked, Li Qingyun was fully capable of making good on his threats. Despite his rough exterior, Li Qingyun was meticulous in his actions—he never acted without cause. If he was making a scene, he must have solid grounds. A single misstep on the Gao family’s part could spell endless trouble.
Clueless about what offense he had committed, Old Man Gao had no choice but to grovel and apologize, seething inwardly. Li Qingyun ignored him, leaving as abruptly as he had arrived, but not before warning that he expected a resolution soon—patience was not his virtue.
The ensuing chaos left Old Man Gao fuming. When Gao Linglong returned, trembling with fear, she had no chance to voice her grievances before her grandfather berated her mercilessly. He confined her to her chambers under strict supervision and sent matchmakers to the Liu family—with whom her marriage had already been arranged—demanding an earlier wedding date.
The Liu family was puzzled. Unless under extraordinary circumstances, wedding dates were not to be altered lightly. For the bride’s family to insist on an earlier date was highly unusual. Upon investigating, they discovered Gao Linglong’s scandalous attempt to steal another woman’s husband despite being betrothed to their son. Furious, they sent word through the matchmaker: the engagement was off. Old Man Gao panicked. With Li Qingyun breathing down his neck, he couldn’t afford to lose the Liu family’s alliance. Desperate, he pleaded with the Lius, promising to discipline his granddaughter and doubling the dowry.
Unable to shake off the engagement and tempted by the lavish dowry, the Liu family reluctantly agreed—but on one condition: Gao Linglong would enter their household not as the principal wife, but as a concubine. Her disgraceful behavior disqualified her from being the Liu family’s matriarch. Old Man Gao had no choice but to accept. Even if she didn’t marry into the Liu family, her reputation was tarnished beyond repair.
In the wake of Gao Linglong’s scandal, Li Cuimei reflected on her own passivity, realizing it had invited such brazen disrespect. She ordered renovations—two gatehouses were added inside the main entrance, and two sturdy maids were hired to guard the premises in shifts, ensuring no laxity.
This, however, spelled trouble for Lin Wu. The maids’ watchful eyes were like searchlights, leaving him no chance to sneak out for fun. Forced to stay home, he resigned himself to practicing calligraphy under his mother’s supervision and playing with his younger sister.
Breaking her habit of relying solely on Nanny Liu as an intermediary, Li Cuimei began personally attending to customers with custom clothing requests. Her erudition and refined demeanor gradually overshadowed her physical imperfections. Over time, she forged genuine friendships, her spirits lifting and her demeanor brightening. The sight brought tears to Nanny Liu’s eyes—this was the Third Young Miss she remembered from before marriage.
When her husband returned, he immediately noticed the change in his wife. Though pleased, he was baffled. How could she have transformed so dramatically in just three months? Pressed for answers, Li Cuimei only smiled. Left with no choice, he turned to Nanny Liu and learned of Gao Linglong’s intrusion. Furious but unable to confront a married woman, his lingering guilt over cutting off Old Man Gao’s supply lines vanished entirely.
“Daddy, isn’t it pretty?”
After relentless effort, Lin Fang had mastered braiding chains and even emulated Nanny Liu’s technique to thicken them into cords. Though her woven basket still paled in comparison to Nanny Liu’s, it was more than sufficient for her next project: knitting. Now, she proudly displayed a ball of cord before her father.
“Beautiful! My clever little girl, just like your mother,” he praised, overjoyed that his young daughter remained affectionate despite his long absence. Her sharp memory and precociousness made him feel he could never spoil her enough.
This trip had yielded modest goods but significant prospects—a steady supply source secured for the coming spring.
After playing with his daughter, he turned to his wife. “Cuimei, I’ve brought some silk. Pick what you like—keep it all if you wish.”
“Really? I’ve been struggling with the monotony of cotton garments. Silk is exactly what I needed!” Li Cuimei exclaimed, rushing off to inspect the goods, leaving her husband momentarily stunned. The wife who had once shown no interest in such matters was now brimming with enthusiasm, leaving him oddly… neglected.
“Daddy, I want to see too!” Lin Fang tugged at his neck, yelling into his ear with the determination of a child who wouldn’t relent until her wish was granted. She’d never seen bulk silk before.
“Alright, let’s go.”
The sight left her awestruck. Though she couldn’t discern quality, the neatly stacked rolls of silk dazzled her—far more vivid than anything on TV, their shimmering hues exuding opulence.
“Mom, this one’s pretty!”
Lin Fang preferred light colors, especially white. But since her rebirth, she’d been dressed mostly in red. Now, with the ability to express herself and touch the fabrics, she seized the opportunity, holding up a moon-white silk against herself.
Her mother immediately vetoed it. “No, white is too plain—it’s unlucky for growth. This red is better.”
“Why? This is pretty!” For the first time, Lin Fang dug in her heels, clutching the silk. She couldn’t fathom how a color could affect growth.
“Both are lovely. Let’s make one of each,” her father interceded, unwilling to see either upset.
Li Cuimei shot him a look. “Red wards off evil. White is inauspicious for a child.”
Realizing her mother’s insistence on red stemmed from love, Lin Fang felt a pang of guilt. Releasing the silk, she hugged her father, subdued.
Misinterpreting her silence as displeasure, he patted her back and reassured his wife, “No superstitions bring the greatest luck. I wore white as a child and turned out fine.”
“But our daughter is frail—she’s not like you,” Li Cuimei fretted.
“Mom, I’ll wear red,” Lin Fang conceded, reaching for her mother. She couldn’t bear to darken her mood further.
Before handing her over, her father planted a kiss on her cheek. “Our precious girl is so understanding—so young yet so considerate. We’re truly blessed.”
Li Cuimei echoed the sentiment with a kiss of her own.
Lin Fang’s heart ached. If not for her thirty-something soul in this toddler’s body, she’d never grasp her parents’ concerns. To have such parents—that was her real fortune.
Her father, ever the pragmatist, suggested a compromise: layering white gauze over red. Lin Fang inwardly groaned—did he not realize it was early winter? But her mother’s eyes lit up—not for the impracticality, but for the fresh design possibilities it inspired.
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