Chapter Thirteen: Etiquette Abounds in Wealthy Households

After enjoying the reward, the entire family, young and old, in high spirits, made their way to the small flower hall for breakfast.

Song Ci was escorted into the hall by her two daughters-in-law, one on each side. Immediately, a heavy wave of sandalwood incense struck her, so pungent it nearly choked her, causing her to pause mid-step.

“Mother, is something wrong?” asked Lady Song, the elder, with concern when she saw her standing still.

The second Lady Song was even more direct: “Are you tired from the walk? If you are, let me carry you in.”

Carry her?

Song Ci almost thought she was hearing things. She turned to look at her, her voice faint: “You want to carry me?”

The second Lady Song laughed heartily. “Mother, have you forgotten that I’ve practiced martial arts for years? I certainly have the strength to carry you.” As she spoke, she squared her shoulders, clearly ready to lift the petite Song Ci right up.

Song Ci hurriedly waved her off. “No need, I’m fine.”

Of course, this daughter-in-law was the daughter of a merchant. Having accompanied her father on trading journeys, where danger was never far off, the Jiang family had specially hired a martial arts instructor for her. Not only that, even the maids and older attendants around Jiang had some fighting skills.

Afraid she really would be picked up, Song Ci quickly changed the subject: “Why is the flower hall so heavily scented?”

It felt like being in a temple, suffocating.

Lady Song looked surprised. “Mother, didn’t you always like sandalwood?”

A chill ran through Song Ci’s heart. She frowned and said, “It’s enough to burn it constantly in the small Buddha hall for worship. Remove it from the dining room—it’s far too strong.” After a pause, she added, “In the future, don’t burn sandalwood in the dining room. Put some dried tangerine peel in the brazier, or set out some fresh flowers instead. The fragrance of fruit and flowers is far more refreshing.”

Everyone exchanged glances, their expressions uncertain. Had the old lady’s illness changed even her tastes?

Seeing their silence, Song Ci asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, we’ll do as you wish, Mother,” Lady Song replied with a smile, and then turned to instruct the maids, “Be sure to pick fresh, beautiful flowers from the garden every day.”

The maids quickly agreed.

By then, Madam Gong had already ordered the sandalwood incense burners in the four corners to be removed, had the windows opened for fresh air, and brought in a cloisonné censer where she tossed in a few pieces of tangerine peel. Instantly, a bright, citrus scent filled the air.

Such efficiency.

Satisfied, Song Ci sat down. Before she could say a word, the maids had stepped forward to roll up her sleeves, wipe her hands with a warm cloth, and present a cup of hot tea. Another maid stood by with a delicate white porcelain spittoon.

As Song Ci took a sip, just as she was about to swallow, she caught sight of young Ruo Qi doing the same. The girl sipped, moved her mouth slightly, and then discreetly spat the water into a spittoon held by her maid, dabbing her lips with a handkerchief before sitting upright again.

Two handsome young men repeated the same actions.

So the water was for rinsing the mouth, not drinking.

Feeling a bit awkward, Song Ci pretended to be composed, turned away, and spat into the elegant spittoon that looked suitable for flower arrangements.

Big households had so many rules—she realized she had much to learn to avoid making a spectacle of herself.

“Mother, let us serve you breakfast,” said both Lady Song and the second Lady Song, standing beside her, ready to serve her dishes with their chopsticks.

Song Ci waved her hands quickly. “There’s no need for so many formalities with me. Please, sit down.”

“Mother?”

“Be good and sit down,” Song Ci told them. “I don’t want anyone saying I’m a wicked mother-in-law who torments her daughters-in-law.”

The two ladies looked alarmed. “Mother, you’re being too kind! This is our duty as your daughters-in-law, not torment at all. Has someone been speaking ill of us in your presence?” Had the old lady overheard them complaining behind her back?

Song Ci: “…”

No, she was just being considerate. But why did the two of them look so guilty? What was that supposed to mean?