Time turned to April, and the weather grew warmer with each passing day. Visits between families became more frequent.
Fang Yuan sent a formal invitation to Wang Qingyao, asking her to be a guest at the Duke of Zhongyong's mansion.
Wang Qingyao had assumed it was a gathering of young ladies, but upon arriving at the Duke of Zhongyong's mansion, she discovered that the Duke himself wished to see her.
"There are a few matters I wish to inquire about, Second Miss Wang."
The Duke of Zhongyong invited Wang Qingyao into the garden, where servants brought out exquisite pastries and floral tea.
Fang Yuan winked at her from the side, "Grandfather is very interested in your novel, 'The Secret History of Tragic Love in the Deep Palace.'"
Wang Qingyao was surprised. She remembered Fang Yuan had mentioned this before.
She immediately felt a bit embarrassed. "Your Grace, please feel free to ask whatever you wish."
The Duke of Zhongyong stroked his beard with a smile and said to her, "I heard from Sister Yuan that 'The Secret History of Tragic Love in the Deep Palace' was written by you?"
"Yes."
"Forgive my presumption, but I would like to ask from whom you heard this story?"
Wang Qingyao frowned slightly. Last time she was kidnapped, the man with the hooked nose had asked her the same question.
Why did they all assume she had heard it from someone else?
Could she not have created it herself?
She looked at the Duke of Zhongyong and said frankly, "I made it up myself."
The Duke of Zhongyong raised his eyebrows. "You made it up yourself?"
"Yes, I enjoy reading storybooks. After reading so many, I tried to write one myself. This story is actually quite common; I've seen similar plots in many other storybooks."
The Duke of Zhongyong was silent for a moment. His emaciated fingers tapped rhythmically on the stone table. After a long pause, he smiled kindly at Wang Qingyao. "You've written it well."
Wang Qingyao: "..."
After asking these questions, the Duke of Zhongyong stood up. "Sister Yuan, entertain Second Miss Wang well."
Fang Yuan happily agreed.
Wang Qingyao also stood up to respectfully see him off. He took a few steps, then suddenly turned back and said in a low voice, "Second Miss, it would be best if you changed your story to avoid bringing about a fatal disaster."
Wang Qingyao's heart tightened. She looked up at the Duke of Zhongyong. His expression was calm. He nodded slightly, then turned and left.
Fang Yuan hadn't heard the Duke's last words clearly and casually asked, "What did Grandfather say?"
Wang Qingyao's talent for making things up was superb. "He wants me to set you up with Young Master Zeng."
Fang Yuan's round face immediately flushed red. She shyly said, "Sister Yaoyao, you always tease me."
However, thinking of Huang Xuanming, her expression dimmed. She whispered, "That child... has already been added to the Huang family's genealogy..."
Wang Qingyao gently stroked her head without speaking.
A maiden's love is like a summer downpour, arriving quickly and departing just as fast.
The vows of eternal love and unwavering commitment will inevitably fade with the accumulation of disappointment and the erosion of time.
Where in this world are there so many steadfast loves?
...
It was already evening when she returned from the Duke of Zhongyong's mansion. Wang Qingyao entered Lengxiang Courtyard. Yin Zhu came forward and reported in a low voice behind her, "Qiuju went out this afternoon."
Wang Qingyao continued walking and entered the main room. Zhizi brought warm water for her to wash her hands and face, then applied some fragrant balm.
She raised her hand to smell it and asked, "What did she go out for?"
"I inquired. Her parents came to see her, and she went to meet them."
Wang Qingyao said "Oh" and didn't pay much attention. She paced to the desk and flipped through the manuscript of 'The Secret History of Tragic Love in the Deep Palace.' Recalling the Duke of Zhongyong's words, her brow furrowed again.
Xiao Yun had bought the pleasure house and renamed it Peony Pavilion. Wang Qingyao submitted three chapters every five days, and every performance was packed, with booming business.
If she stopped writing now, she would feel a bit unwilling.
But then again, Wang Qingyao was a person who listened to advice, especially on matters of life and death.
She took out some stationery, wrote down what had happened at the Duke of Zhongyong's mansion today, and sent it to Ding'an Prince's mansion via Lightning.
While waiting for a reply, a strange maid arrived in the courtyard. She looked about fifteen or sixteen years old and held a delicate small box.
"Greetings, Second Miss. I am Rui Huang from Honghu Courtyard. Our young master sent me to deliver a return gift to Second Miss, saying he found the red inkstone from a few days ago very useful."
Wang Qingyao accepted it with a smile. She had already used her clairvoyance to see it was a box of face powder, the kind used on the face, similar to loose powder.
But others didn't know this.
She pretended to be curious and opened the box. Inside was a small, carved, pale green porcelain box shaped like a pumpkin. Four elegant characters were inscribed on the box: "Tian Rong Shui Se."
Yin Zhu exclaimed happily, "Miss, it's Tian Rong Shui Se face powder."
"Tian Rong Shui Se" was a brand specializing in rouge and powder, a level above "Hua Xiang Rong," and was considered a luxury product for noble ladies.
This single box of face powder alone cost five taels of silver, equivalent to about 10,000 yuan in today's currency, truly a luxury item.
Rui Huang smiled and said, "Sister, you truly know your goods. Our young master said this face powder has a fine texture and a lustrous white color. It also contains expensive medicinal ingredients that can make one radiant and more beautiful with each passing day."
"Please thank my elder brother for me."
Wang Qingyao instructed Zhizi to give the maid a tip. Rui Huang happily accepted it and withdrew from Lengxiang Courtyard.
Yin Zhu, while putting the face powder into the cosmetic box, said gleefully, "Eldest Young Master is truly generous."
Wang Qingyao's smile faded. "Something is not right about this."
Yin Zhu was startled. Zhizi and Nian Momo both looked over.
"Eldest Young Master is a straightforward man. How would he know that Tian Rong Shui Se face powder is good to use? Even if he asked others, he wouldn't remember it so clearly."
Yin Zhu hesitated. "Perhaps Eldest Young Master has a good memory?"
Nian Momo shook her head. "How would men pay attention to such rouge and powder?"
"Then... then should we still keep this face powder?" Yin Zhu stammered, at a loss.
"Put it aside for now."
Wang Qingyao pondered for a moment and asked, "You said Qiuju went out today?"
"Yes." Yin Zhu didn't know what connection there was between these two matters.
Wang Qingyao couldn't sort it out for the moment. She stood up and walked towards Qiuju's room, saying, "Let's go and see Qiuju."
When she said "see," she truly meant just "see."
Qiuju's current position in Lengxiang Courtyard was awkward. She couldn't get close to the mistress, nor could she ask Madam Bai to assign her to another courtyard. The other servants were wary of her, leaving her with no prospects.
She only did rough work every day, and her delicate hands had long since developed calluses, becoming rough and unsightly.
Wang Qingyao stopped in front of her door and signaled Yin Zhu to knock. Yin Zhu, looking down on Qiuju, simply pushed the door open.
Qiuju was doing needlework under the lamp and was startled by the sudden intrusion. Her needle pricked her finger, drawing blood.
"Miss." She quickly got up to bow, her eyelids twitching uncontrollably.
Wang Qingyao said "Mm" and walked around the room, looking everywhere.
Qiuju's face was tense, her smile strained. "Miss, what business do you have with me so late?"
"No business," Wang Qingyao said as she turned, "I just wanted to come and see you."
Qiuju didn't know what Wang Qingyao was up to. Seeing her looking around, her legs trembled, and she had to lean on the table to avoid showing her fear.
Just then, Wang Qingyao stopped in front of the chest where she kept her clothes.