Chapter 18: The Art of Deception

The Marchioness relayed the day’s events, expressing her suspicion that Zhao Xianzhi was behind the schemes. However, deeming it irrelevant, she omitted the fact that Meng Zhenyue had requested a change of servants.

She watched her son, expecting to see the panic of a man exposed. Instead, he wore a look of profound contemplation. After a long silence, he countered, “Such a coincidence? Mother went to Sister’s courtyard and stayed for so long? If the poison was truly that potent, could Mother still be standing here in the Buddha hall?”

“You mean—” The Marchioness was stunned, her mind reeling.

Zhao Xianzhi used a different line of reasoning to solidify the idea that had just sparked in her heated mind. He said, “Mother, Sister is not unintelligent. I harmed her first, so it is only right that she retaliates against me. But she should never, ever have implicated you.”

Seeing the Marchioness becoming agitated—clearly on the verge of summoning Meng Zhenyue for a confrontation—Zhao Xianzhi added a touch of resentment to his tone. “Mother, wait a little longer. If Sister does this once, there will surely be a next time. If that happens, then you may believe my words.”

The Marchioness was already convinced, but seeing her son so distressed, she humored him. She had arrived in a melancholy state, but she left feeling even more remorseful; how could she have ever doubted her son?

After the Marchioness departed, Zhao Xianzhi’s expression remained devoid of emotion, yet he snapped the wooden fish mallet in his hand in two.

“Beilie,” he murmured. His rich, resonant voice echoed through the empty Buddha hall, sounding inexplicably chilling.

Beilie leaped in from outside the window, bowing his head and cupping his fists in report. “Young Master, the servants just reported that it was Xia Liu who made the mistake when placing those ceramic dolls.”

“Is Meng Zhenyue my nemesis, or are you all taking my silver while failing your duties?!” Zhao Xianzhi erupted in fury, overturning a table and sending a clatter echoing through the room.

Beilie dared not ask him to calm his anger, bowing his head even lower, wishing he could bury it into the floor.

After a long while, only the sound of candle flames popping remained in the Buddha hall before Zhao Xianzhi’s voice returned. “There is no need for further instructions on how to handle Zhao Zhizhi, is there?”

“Rest assured, Young Master,” Beilie said. “The subordinates know the plan has changed and will adjust accordingly.”

“You are quick to distance yourself,” Zhao Xianzhi chuckled softly. “Why so tense? Whether that group under Xia Liu is rewarded or executed is entirely up to you.”

“Yes,” Beilie responded.

He knew that if the Young Master’s plans succeeded, there were rewards; if they failed, the one who caused the problem would suffer a fate worse than death, unable to find peace even in the afterlife—while those who had not caused trouble would still be rewarded. It was precisely through this method that the Young Master had subjugated so many.

***

Huaxi Courtyard.

“Bai Yuchan, look at this. Is it any good?” Zhao Zhizhi, seated at her desk, held up her work, asking her personal maid, who stood nearby, with an air of anticipation.

“My Lady has been carving all morning; of course it is good! This servant thinks every piece is perfect. You can certainly present these now.” Bai Yuchan looked at the *yulu tuan* (jade dew cakes) in Zhao Zhizhi’s hands with an expression of pure adoration.

“You always have such a sweet tongue!” Zhao Zhizhi teased, rubbing her wrists with a coquettish smile.

Just then, a young maid entered. “My Lady, word has just come from below that the Eldest Miss is free.”

Zhao Zhizhi’s eyes lit up with delight. “Is the milk curd chilled? Get everything ready; we are going to Sister’s courtyard.”

She had intended to visit her sister the moment she returned to the manor, but was told that her sister was occupied with etiquette lessons. She had considered going anyway, but who would have thought that her sister would become free at the very last moment!

As she thought about it, she did not forget to instruct solemnly, “Remember to bring the guqin.”

A quarter of an hour later, mistress and maid carried the food box, shielding themselves from the sun with a parasol as they headed toward Yuehua Courtyard.

The *yulu tuan* was a delicacy her eldest brother favored, and the difficulty lay in the intricate carving. To ensure she didn't drag her sister down and that her eldest brother could eat well, she had specifically spent the whole morning practicing. It was worth it, especially considering that even while he was being punished last night, he had worried about her not eating and instructed the servants to send her food.

Seeing the food her eldest brother sent last night had moved her to tears, and she couldn't help but go to the Buddha hall to speak with him. She had seen him sparring with Beilie; Beilie had been injured, yet her brother did not stop, picking up his sword to continue training. She was deeply moved by his dedication and stood there for a while, not wanting to disturb him, thinking that her brother truly sacrificed so much for the Marquis’s estate in silence.

Unexpectedly, she overheard the conversation between her brother and Beilie, filled with regret and self-reproach. He said, “I was wrong, Beilie. My intention was never to alienate Mother and Sister; my intention was for the good of the estate, yet in the end, things seem to have only worsened. Now I am left to waste my days in this Buddha hall…”

Zhao Zhizhi had never seen her brother so vulnerable. She had run forward, crying, and promised that she would immediately beg their father for mercy and go kowtow to her sister to apologize. Her brother had refused her, saying only that if she truly felt for him, she should make *yulu tuan* with her sister for him.

She didn't know how to make them; her brother’s goal was simply for her to help test whether her sister was still angry. Seeing his sorrow, Zhao Zhizhi made up her mind: regardless of whether her sister was still angry, she would coax and wheedle her into making them with her.

At the very least, it would spare her brother from such heartbreak for a while.

With this in mind, Zhao Zhizhi arrived at Yuehua Courtyard.

When Meng Zhenyue saw the usually delicate Zhao Zhizhi braving the scorching sun to come to her courtyard, she felt a wave of suspicion. What could be so important? Meng Zhenyue was certain it couldn't be about the Marchioness being poisoned, as the Marchioness had already ordered the news suppressed due to its relation to Zhao Xianzhi.

“What business brings you out in such heat?” Meng Zhenyue asked, glancing at the things the maid behind Zhao Zhizhi was carrying.

Zhao Zhizhi, who was picking up a cup of mung bean soup offered by a servant, pondered. Fearing her sister might refuse, she probed tentatively: “It’s just that the sun is so hot, and it’s bound to make one irritable. But, a calm heart brings its own coolness. Sister, are you still angry?”

Though Meng Zhenyue had some faint suspicions, she did not understand the intent behind these words. Seeing the food box and the qin, she wondered if this was an apology for yesterday’s events. To prevent her own words from making Zhao Zhizhi afraid to speak, Meng Zhenyue said, “I am not angry with you.”

Zhao Zhizhi bit her lip secretly; her sister was indeed still angry. It was fortunate she hadn't blurted everything out at once. She felt lucky and praised her own wit, but quickly pushed the thought aside. She signaled for her maid to bring the food box and leaned against Meng Zhenyue’s shoulder to act spoiled.

“Sister is so kind. I chilled some milk curd and brought it over so we could make *yulu tuan* together and strengthen our sisterly bond.”

“I’m not very proficient in the arts of the qin, chess, calligraphy, or painting, and neither are you, Sister. After thinking it over, this seemed the most suitable.” The more Zhao Zhizhi spoke, the more logical it seemed to her, and the more enthusiastic she became. Finally, she added in a small whisper, “And after all the work, we get to enjoy the treat.”

When Meng Zhenyue heard the words *yulu tuan*, her guard went up. Having lived a past life, she knew these cakes were widely recognized as Zhao Xianzhi’s favorite food. Combined with Zhao Zhizhi’s actions this morning and her immediate inquiry about whether she was still angry, Meng Zhenyue became increasingly suspicious.

Determined to play along for now, Meng Zhenyue nodded. “I have never made these, but you can teach me.”