Chapter 128: Scaring the Life Out of You

The nobility in the capital all knew that the Grand Chancellor’s manor was a house of nouveau riche, having risen to prominence only two or three decades ago. In terms of heritage and depth, it still lagged behind many established clans. It was precisely for this reason that the Song manor exerted every ounce of effort to elevate its standing.

Over the past twenty years, the Song household had been diligently modeling itself after various noble families. They had even shamelessly requested that the Empress Dowager and the Emperor bestow upon them veteran matrons from the palace to strictly instruct them in etiquette. Through constant trial and error, and not a few embarrassing mishaps, they had slowly matured. Today, while the Song manor might still fall short of those long-standing aristocratic houses, its etiquette had become a refined template, leaving no room for criticism.

Take the current situation as an example.

The Song manor was hosting a banquet. Carriages were as numerous as a flowing stream, and guards were stationed early on the street in front of the manor to direct traffic. Guests alighted at the middle gate, where servants promptly led their carriages and horses to the designated stables, ensuring no congestion occurred.

Upon entering through the middle gate, male and female guests were escorted by maids and attendants to their respective courtyards or halls. Not every servant accompanying a guest was permitted to follow their master; some were directed to the rear quarters to await instructions. Otherwise, if everyone trailed along, the servants would outnumber the masters, easily leading to chaos.

As more guests arrived, the Song manor’s staff remained unflustered. There was no shouting; everything was conducted with strict procedural order. Everyone had their own duties, and no post was left unmanned. Seeing this, even those who secretly disdained the Song family for their humble origins had to admit that achieving this level of organization in merely twenty or thirty years was truly remarkable.

As the wife of the Grand Chancellor and a woman of the first rank, Madame Song did not need to personally greet every guest at the second gate. Only those of higher rank or greater seniority warranted her personal attendance there.

The second gate was primarily managed by Madame Jiang and Madame Lu, who received the guests and, after exchanging a few pleasantries, escorted them to Song Ci’s Chunhui Hall, where a large flower hall had been specially prepared for entertaining.

Song Ci was grateful for the guidance of the palace matrons; otherwise, she would have been dazzled by the sight of these noble ladies, all decked out in their finery, with hair ornaments jingling and jewels clattering. Fortunately, her transmigration had left her with the excellent memory she once possessed for memorizing scripts, allowing her to recognize several faces and avoid confusion.

Of course, for those she truly could not recall, Song Ci would simply touch her forehead with a candid air and claim that her recent illness had made her forgetful. No one doubted the veracity of her words, for the news of her near-death illness had spread throughout the noble circles. For an elderly person to suffer a stroke and lose their memory was common enough—why, there was an old lady in one household who had even forgotten her own son.

That Song Ci had not regressed to the state of a toddler was clearly a blessing from the Bodhisattvas; she deserved to enjoy her twilight years in peace.

Yet, there were always those born with a penchant for stirring up trouble. One woman, clutching her handkerchief, smiled and said, "Ever since the Grand Matron fell ill, she seems like a completely different person—a different soul entirely compared to the past."

Song Ci was startled into a shiver.

She cast a sidelong glance at the woman, whose mouth was as wide as a blood-basin, and said in a haunting tone, "People must walk the threshold of the underworld before they can fully grasp the great truths of life. Take me, for instance—I saw the Ox-Headed and Horse-Faced demons myself. The only reason I was able to turn back was because my family refused to let me go. So, tell me, is it any wonder that I have changed? I could hardly go on living as I once did. Believe me, if you were in my shoes, you would change too."

*So, dare you try dying and seeing for yourself? I’ll scare the life out of you.*

The woman’s face paled, and she pulled at the corner of her mouth in an awkward expression. "The Grand Matron is truly fond of joking."

The ancients were deeply superstitious, especially the elderly. Seeing the woman’s crestfallen look, they did not blame Song Ci—after all, they were all old and hoped for long lives. Instead, they felt that this young daughter-in-law was truly tactless for bringing up such an unlucky topic.

Madame Song was just about to smooth things over when Matron Fang approached and whispered a few words to her. Her expression turned one of slight surprise, and she stood up.