Chapter Forty-Seven: Betrayal—Money Over Loyalty

Wu Dan’s sudden change of heart caught Song Ci off guard, but even more surprised was Old Master Song.

He must be getting hard of hearing in his old age. Just now, what did his precious peony say—she wanted money, not him?

“You—Madam Wu—what did you just say?” Old Master Song stared at Wu Dan, looking utterly stricken.

Wu Dan’s gaze darted away as she lowered her head. “Master, I am not blessed with good fortune. I fear I cannot serve you.”

Old Master Song’s heart seized as he glared at her. After a long pause, he rose abruptly, turned his back, and swept his sleeve with a huff.

“How ungrateful.”

Song Ci looked to Granny Gong, who nodded, took Wu Dan by the arm, and led her out.

In the flower hall, only the two elders remained.

Song Ci felt at ease; dismissing a young woman had gone far more smoothly than she’d expected. She’d thought, at the very least, they’d have to prepare a small courtyard for Wu Dan to live in.

But this girl was more rational than she’d imagined. Still, if Wu Dan was willing to humble herself for this fat old man, why back out now? She could have at least become a concubine and lived in comfort for the rest of her life.

Suddenly, faint sobs reached her ears. Song Ci started and turned her head, only to see Old Master Song’s shoulders trembling, his body shaking with suppressed emotion.

“Old man?”

Old Master Song turned to her and said, “You’re pleased now, aren’t you? My plans to take a concubine have been ruined by you.”

“Mind you, it wasn’t me who refused—she made her own choice.” Seeing his reddened eyes, Song Ci clicked her tongue. “Crying won’t help. She wants money, not you.”

Old Master Song sank heavily to the floor. “How will I ever face Old Fu now? He knows about me and the peony, but now the woman is gone. Ah, I’ve lost all face.”

Song Ci was speechless.

“Madam Peony is sharper than I thought,” Granny Gong remarked as she glanced at Wu Dan.

Wu Dan forced a slight smile.

Did she not want to rise above her station? Of course she did. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have persuaded Old Master Song to elevate her to the status of Second Wife. She’d imagined she would become a celebrated concubine, surrounded by attendants and admiration.

But after one glance at Minister Song, she realized how naive she’d been. Would a man with such power truly tolerate anyone challenging his mother’s authority? The look Minister Song gave her was as if she were already dead. If she entered this manor, she might well fall gravely ill for no apparent reason someday.

She longed for wealth, but she also wanted to live.

Song Ci was right. With a thousand taels, she could find a young man to marry, bear children, and with her skill in cultivating peonies, she’d have a generous dowry and could live as the mistress of her own household, free from others’ whims.

“Granny, if I marry in the future, will the Dowager Lady protect me, since I did serve the Old Master for a time?” Wu Dan asked, probing carefully.

Granny Gong gave her a measured look. “You know how to grow peonies, and the Song household often purchases flowers from growers—peonies included. If your peonies are of good quality, you may supply them to the manor.”

Wu Dan’s eyes lit up. “Is that true?”

“Of course. Provided that Madam Peony knows what should and shouldn’t be said. As for whom you have served, there’s no need to mention it. Our Old Master is famous for his fondness for beauty; fleeting affairs are nothing new to him. But your own reputation…”

Wu Dan flushed with embarrassment and quickly nodded. “I understand.”

Someone approached, carrying a tray bearing a silk pouch and a steaming bowl of herbal medicine.

Wu Dan froze.

“This medicine is for your own good. Drink it, and your path ahead will be clear. You’ll find a good husband and have a happy family,” Granny Gong said as she picked up the pouch and handed it over. “Here are one thousand taels in silver notes.”

Wu Dan reached for it, but Granny Gong drew back and glanced at the medicine.

Wu Dan pressed her lips together, picked up the bowl, and drank it in one gulp. Her hand suddenly felt lighter—the delicate pouch had replaced the bowl in her palm.