The steward had no choice but to comply, though he knew it was hardly the right way to handle things. As he sent the woman away and went to sort things out in the rear quarters, the concubines in the household wailed and cursed; a few even hurled bitter insults. There was nothing for it—the steward had to fetch Lord Zheng himself to put an end to the farce.
When the men sent to investigate returned, Lord Zheng stared at the ledgers in his hands until his face went black. “That wicked girl!” he spat. Every major expense on the account was charged to his eldest daughter, and they weren’t even necessities—trinkets, dresses—things the house could have commissioned without going outside. How could he not be furious? Wages for the servants were barely scraped together; he’d been stretching the coffers thin to keep the household running.
“Bring my eldest daughter here!” he barked. He wanted answers—he wanted to know what that wretch had been up to.
His daughter swept into the room with the arrogant air she always wore and, without a hint of guilt, complained, “Father, I just saw a set of facial adornments I must have. I’m a little short—give me some money.”
Lord Zheng’s temper flared at her tone. “Money? What money? You’ve emptied the house dry. I’ve been scraping together the servants’ wages by the skin of my teeth!”
He slammed his palm on the table for emphasis, eyes blazing as if he could hurl her out into the street and sell her to the highest bidder. “If it weren’t for me, you think you’d ever be a consort to Prince Wen? Don’t forget I can make sure you don’t get in the door at all.”
His daughter’s composure faltered at once. The prospect of losing that position—of falling from the lofty perch she’d set her sights on—sent panic through her. She had no intention of giving up the future she’d been promised.
“Father, I’m sorry—your daughter was foolish and rash. Please, don’t make this a scene,” she cried, dropping to her knees, full of frantic apologies.
“You forget who put you in this position.” Lord Zheng’s face went colder. “I gave you this chance. If you step out of line again, I won’t hesitate to replace you with someone obedient. In this city, a man can die without anyone blinking.”
Satisfied that she’d been cowed, he nodded once. “You have three days to make up the money you’ve withdrawn from the accounts. Fail to return it, and you’ll face the consequences.” With that, he turned and left, leaving the eldest daughter pale and trembling.
She sat alone for a long time, her face a mask, but her fingers shook so badly no one would have missed it if they’d looked closely. Where was she going to find that kind of money in three days?
Her mind snapped to a single person. She pressed her lips together, the memory twisting inside her—would that person help her now? She was, after all, once that woman’s favorite child. She couldn’t turn away in her hour of need. Besides, once she became Prince Wen’s concubine, she would repay every debt.
With her resolve set, she slipped out unnoticed and made her way, careful and furtive, to the former Madam Zheng’s residence. The gatekeeper nearly shut the door when he saw who it was, but she blocked it.
“Call my mother out. Tell her I’m here—she’ll come,” the eldest daughter begged, voice small enough to sound almost sincere.
The gatekeeper, softened by the sight of her, let her wait while he reported it. Soon the former Madam Zheng appeared at the gate. Li Qinglian regarded the girl with a look that had too much history to be explained in one glance.
“Well?” she said. “What do you want?”
“Mother—please help me. You’re the only one who can,” the girl cried, scrambling forward to kneel and clutch Li Qinglian’s skirt, her tears sudden and theatrical.
Li Qinglian hesitated. This had once been the child she doted on most, yet it was that same child who, in a certain moment long ago, had struck her—had turned away when asked to leave. The memory knit a frown across her face.
“I have nothing to give you. Go beg your father,” Li Qinglian said flatly. She had once offered the girl escape; the girl had refused, ashamed of her natal family’s merchant roots, preferring instead to live under others’ authority than beside her.
“No, Mother. You know I’m to be Prince Wen’s concubine soon. Please—help me.” The daughter seized on that future as a last weapon.
If they could hitch their fortunes to a prince, their family might rise. They might become imperial merchants; their standing would be elevated forever. It was a tempting claim.
Li Qinglian’s face betrayed nothing as she asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Just lend me the money—only fifty thousand taels,” the girl said, acting as if it were nothing. In truth she needed only thirty thousand, but who ever turned down a cushion of extra silver?
“Fifty thousand taels?” Li Qinglian’s eyes widened. “You need so much?”
“I’m desperate. Father wants every expense I ever drew from the household made good. I’ve already sold everything I could, but I’m still short fifty thousand taels,” the girl said, with an air of practiced earnestness.
Li Qinglian paused, thought for a moment, and then, to the eldest daughter’s astonishment, agreed.