Chapter Two: Amid Countless Difficulties, Winning Hearts with Cunning Strategy

Early the next morning, Qu Wanqing rubbed her aching shoulders and climbed off the straw mat in the woodshed. The odd breathing sounds from last night had finally faded into the darkness, leaving her restless and unable to sleep. She made a silent vow: tonight, she would find out exactly what that was.

Assigned to help in the kitchen, Qu Wanqing knew trouble awaited her. As expected, Madam Lin proved to be a tough nut, making things difficult at every turn. “Stoke the fire higher! Do you intend to cook raw rice with that feeble flame?” Madam Lin’s shrill voice stabbed at Qu Wanqing’s ears like a needle. Wanqing drew a deep breath and reminded herself to stay calm, to endure—now was not the time to retaliate. She thought to herself, her situation in this Marquis’s residence was perilous; these trials were but the beginning. If she couldn’t withstand such petty grievances, how could she ever gain a foothold here or unravel the web of intrigue behind it all? Quietly, she added more firewood—flames leapt higher, flickering across her face.

The kitchen was steamy and hot; sweat poured down her back, her hands sticky with oil and flour. Madam Lin kept up her endless demands—complaining she chopped vegetables too slowly, scolding her for not washing them clean enough. Wanqing felt a pressure in her chest, with nowhere to vent her frustration.

Just then, Mr. Zhang wandered past, fanning himself. Spotting Wanqing busy at the stove, he stopped, shaking his head and declared, “A dignified lady of the Marquis’s household, reduced to menial labor in the kitchen! How improper! What a disgrace!” Wanqing suppressed her anger and replied with a forced smile, “Mr. Zhang, you may not know, but I am learning the virtues of thrift and diligence. The ancients said, ‘A gentleman stays away from the kitchen,’ but they never said a lady couldn’t cook.” Her words left Mr. Zhang speechless, and though he tried to retort, Wanqing had already turned back to her work, ignoring him. “Pretending as always!” Mr. Zhang snorted and swept away.

Watching his retreating figure, Wanqing’s lips curled into a cold smile. Indeed, this mansion was full of wolves and tigers; a single misstep, and she would be devoured. She needed to find a breakthrough to turn her situation around. Lost in thought, she mechanically sliced vegetables, until her gaze fell upon the array of ingredients on the chopping board… A thought flashed through her mind.

She picked up a piece of fresh chicken and grabbed a handful of unfamiliar spices, a sly glint in her eyes. “Cuier,” she called softly, “bring me a small bowl…”

Cuier handed her the bowl, and Wanqing’s expression became focused and bright, as if performing a sacred ritual. She gently placed the cut chicken into the bowl, its tender color appealing even in the dim kitchen. Then she took the unknown spices, pinching them with her fingers like a fairy picking flowers, sprinkling them evenly over the chicken. The spices released a unique aroma, mingling with the freshness of the meat. She next poured soy sauce, its dark stream winding between chicken and spices. Vinegar and sugar followed, and finally, she carefully dripped a few drops of rare sesame oil she had found in a corner. The fragrance spread instantly; she stirred the mixture, each movement like a note in a culinary symphony. As she stirred, she explained, “This is a dish from my hometown, called ‘Strange Flavor Chicken.’ Its taste is unique—I guarantee you’ve never tried it before.”

A rich aroma filled the kitchen, drawing curious servants to peer inside. Madam Lin sniffed, a look of disdain in her eyes. “What nonsense! Smells strange—it can’t possibly taste good!” Wanqing ignored her, placing the marinated chicken in the steamer and simmering it over a gentle flame.

As time passed, the fragrance grew stronger, enveloping the kitchen in its tempting scent. Even the cooks who had been unfriendly toward Wanqing found themselves swallowing hungrily.

“How delicious! What is that aroma?”

“I’ve never smelled anything like this—the lady is truly skilled!”

“The chicken looks so tasty!”

The servants whispered among themselves, praising Wanqing’s culinary prowess. Madam Lin’s face darkened, and she snorted, “It’s just chicken—what’s so special? Don’t forget your place—look at yourselves!” But the servants ignored her, their eyes fixed on the steamer, desperate to taste it. Even Cuier couldn’t help but say, “Madam Lin, it really smells wonderful. The lady must have worked so hard to make it.”

When the steamer lid was lifted, an even stronger aroma burst forth. Wanqing served the steamed chicken, sharing it among the servants.

Everyone took a bite and could not stop praising it.

“Wow! This is incredible! The flavor is amazing!”

“My lady, you’re amazing!”

“The chicken is tender and juicy, so fragrant—a true delicacy!”

The servants’ admiration secretly delighted Wanqing; she knew she had won their favor. Madam Lin watched, her face livid with anger but powerless to intervene.

However, good fortune was short-lived. That night, Wanqing discovered that several precious spices from the kitchen were missing. She immediately realized someone was trying to frame her. She scanned the room, her gaze settling on Steward Zhao, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Steward Zhao, you took the kitchen spices, didn’t you?”

Steward Zhao’s face changed, but he forced composure. “My lady, you mustn’t make wild accusations! Why would I take the kitchen spices?”

Wanqing sneered, pointing to a hidden corner behind him. “Is that so? Then what’s inside that sack hidden over there?” Everyone followed her gaze to find a bulging sack tucked away. Steward Zhao panicked, scrambling for excuses. Wanqing gave him no chance, striding over and pulling the sack open to reveal the missing spices. She raised her voice, “Caught red-handed, Steward Zhao—what excuse do you have? In this Marquis’s residence, such sneaky thieves pretend to be upright, yet today I’ve exposed you. How can you show your face here again?”

The onlookers erupted in anger, criticizing Steward Zhao.

“I never thought Steward Zhao was like this!”

“Thieving like a common criminal—how disgraceful!”

“We respected him so much, what fools we were!”

Steward Zhao’s face turned pale with shame, and he slunk out of the kitchen in humiliation. Wanqing calmly returned the spices to their place and addressed the crowd, “Carry on with your work, let’s pretend today never happened.”

Though the servants agreed, their gazes toward Wanqing brimmed with admiration. This seemingly delicate woman possessed such wisdom and courage—it truly changed their view of her.

After resolving the kitchen affair, Wanqing stepped outside for some air. Nearby, Jiang Yu stood beneath a tree, quietly reading a book. Wanqing hesitated, then walked over.

“Mr. Jiang,” she called softly.

Jiang Yu looked up, gave a slight nod. “My lady.”

“Thank you for your warning today,” Wanqing said gratefully.

“There’s no need for thanks,” Jiang Yu replied coolly, and returned to his book. Wanqing, a little frustrated, wanted to say more, but Jiang Yu was immersed in his reading, so she let it go. Though his manner remained aloof, Wanqing felt their relationship had progressed, and the thought brought her a small joy.

But that happiness was fleeting. Just as Wanqing thought all was well, Cuier rushed over in a panic. “My lady, bad news! Young Master Li has arrived outside—he says… he says he’s here to propose marriage to you!”

The sudden news struck like a thunderbolt, and Wanqing’s mood grew heavy. She sensed the plot behind this second marriage crisis was far more complicated than she had imagined…

“Young Master Li…?” Wanqing murmured, her gaze growing complex.

“To the main hall.”