Chapter One The Fragrance of Spring

May. Just after late spring, the weather grew impatiently hot.

Sunlight scorched the land of Yanjing, and even the street vendors hid beneath the shade of trees. In such oppressive heat, young masters and ladies from prominent families were unwilling to step outside and suffer the sun’s torment. Only laborers and the poor, carrying chilled rice wine soaked in well water, braved the heat, weaving through gambling houses and tea gardens, hoping that thirsty and weary patrons would spend five copper coins for a bowl—enough to buy another sack of rice, cook two more pots of porridge, and sustain three more days of toil.

On a corner in the east of the city stood a brand-new residence, its plaque hung high, the center dazzling with the golden characters “Achieved Top Honors”—the residence and its sign bestowed by Emperor Hongxiao upon the new top scholar, a symbol of the highest glory. For a scholar to receive such an honor, the whole household would weep in gratitude to their ancestors.

New residence, imperial plaque, and a busy courtyard filled with bustling servants—yet within, the house was chillingly cold, in stark contrast to the blazing summer outside. Perhaps it was the ice blocks brought in to cool the rooms, but the further one walked toward the wall-side rooms, the colder it became.

Outside the last room by the wall sat three people: two young maids in pink gauze robes, and a plump middle-aged matron. On the stool before them lay a plate of red melon seeds and a pot of sour plum soup. As they snacked, their idle chatter seemed more carefree than their mistress’s own life.

The maid on the left glanced at the window and said, “It’s so hot, and the smell of medicine in this room won’t disperse. It’s suffocating—who knows when this will end.”

“Wicked girl, gossiping about the mistress behind her back,” the older matron warned, “Be careful, or she’ll have your hide.”

The pink-clad maid scoffed, “How could she? Master hasn’t come to see Madam in three months.” Lowering her voice, she added, “After that scandal, our master has shown heart and conscience. If it were someone else…” She curled her lip. “If it were me, I’d see an end to it myself—at least save my reputation. Living on like this, isn’t she just dragging others down with her?”

The matron was about to reply, but the other maid said, “Actually, Madam is pitiful too—so beautiful, so learned, gentle by nature. Who could have foreseen such misfortune?”

Though they kept their voices low, the summer afternoon was so silent and the distance so short that every word reached the ears of the person inside.

On the couch, Xue Fangfei lay gazing upward, the traces of tears half-dry at her eyes. Her recent thinness had not left her haggard or diminished her beauty; instead, her illness lent her a fragile, breathtaking radiance.

Her looks had always been remarkable—no wonder she was known as Yanjing’s number one beauty. On her wedding day, gossiping young men sent beggars to jostle her bridal sedan, knocking aside her veil so the crowd could feast their eyes on her flower-like face. At that time, her father, Xue Huaiyuan, the county vice magistrate of Tongxiang in Xiangyang, worried deeply before sending her far to the capital. “Ali is too beautiful,” he’d said, “I fear Shen Yuyong won’t be able to protect you.”

Shen Yuyong was her husband.

Before winning top honors, Shen Yuyong was just a poor scholar. His family lived in Yanjing, while his maternal grandmother, Madam Cao, resided in Xiangyang. Four years ago, when Madam Cao passed away, Shen Yuyong and his mother returned to Xiangyang to mourn, and there he met Xue Fangfei.

Tongxiang was only a small county in Xiangyang. Xue Huaiyuan was a minor official; Xue Fangfei’s mother had died in childbirth with her brother, Xue Zhao. After his wife’s death, Xue Huaiyuan never remarried, so the family was small—just Fangfei, her brother, and their father, depending on each other.

When Fangfei reached marrying age, her beauty drew suitors from near and far, even her father’s superior sought her as a concubine. Xue Huaiyuan refused. Losing his wife so early made him especially loving toward his daughter. Fangfei was clever and obedient, and her father had always given her the best within his means. Thus, though the Xues were but a minor official’s household, Fangfei was raised more delicately than a highborn lady.

Such a treasured daughter caused her father much worry over her marriage. Grand families offered luxury, but little freedom. In the end, Xue Huaiyuan chose Shen Yuyong.

Though of humble birth, Shen Yuyong had exceptional talent and fine character—it was only a matter of time before he succeeded. But this meant Fangfei would have to marry far away to Yanjing. There was another concern: Fangfei’s beauty. In Tongxiang, her father could protect her, but in Yanjing, with its countless wealthy and powerful, what if evil befell her? Could Shen Yuyong protect her?

Yet Fangfei married him, for she loved him.

Marriage led her to Yanjing. Though her mother-in-law was harsh and she suffered many grievances, Shen Yuyong’s tenderness soothed her discontent.

Last spring, Shen Yuyong became the top scholar, riding in triumphal parade, awarded a mansion and plaque by the emperor, soon after appointed as a junior official. In September, Fangfei became pregnant. It was also Shen’s mother’s birthday—a double celebration. The Shen family held a grand banquet, inviting Yanjing’s elite.

That day became Fangfei’s nightmare.

She never understood what happened. She drank a little plum wine at the banquet and felt drowsy. A maid led her back to rest, and when she awoke to screams, a strange man was in her room. Her clothes were in disarray, and her mother-in-law and the other women stood at the door, looking on with scorn, disgust, or barely concealed glee.

She ought to have been mortified—and she was. But no matter her explanations, the rumor spread that the new top scholar’s wife had been caught in adultery before all the guests.

She should have been divorced and thrown out, but Shen Yuyong did not do so. Overwhelmed with grief, she miscarried. While bedridden, she learned that Xue Zhao, who rushed to Yanjing because of her disgrace, had been killed by bandits before reaching the Shen mansion, his body discarded in the river.

Upon hearing this, Fangfei dared not send word home, forced herself to see her brother one last time, handled his affairs, and then fell seriously ill. Shen Yuyong did not visit her once in three months.

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Lying sick in bed, Fangfei’s mind raced. Was Shen Yuyong deliberately avoiding her, or was it anger and resentment? But as time passed, and she pieced together snatches of gossip from servants, she began to see the truth—always uglier than she’d dared imagine.

Struggling upright, Fangfei saw the medicine by her bed had grown cold, its bitter scent wafting. She leaned over and poured it into the pot of crabapple beside her—it was already withered, only bare branches left.

The door creaked open.

She looked up to see the hem of a gold-embroidered gown.

A young woman entered, magnificently dressed, her brows arched with pride. Her eyes fell on the medicine bowl in Fangfei’s hand, and she smiled knowingly. “So that’s how it is.”

Fangfei calmly set the bowl down, watching as her visitor entered. Two sturdy maids closed the door behind her. The gossipy servants outside had vanished; only the shrill chirring of cicadas filled the uneasy, stifling air.

“Princess Yongning,” Fangfei greeted.

The princess smiled, her hairpin’s great South Sea pearl swaying with the movement, shimmering so brightly it dazzled the eye.

A single South Sea pearl—worth ten thousand acres of good land. Only the imperial family used such treasures. They lived in luxury unimaginable to others, yet still coveted what was not theirs—if need be, by theft or force.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Yongning observed. “Did Shen Lang tell you?”

She called Shen Yuyong so intimately. A bitter taste rose in Fangfei’s throat, nearly choking her. After a moment, she answered lightly, “I’m waiting for him to tell me himself.”

Fangfei was no fool; her father had taught her well. Ever since she fell ill, ever since she realized she was being watched and confined, she had started to piece things together—her brother’s death, the hints from servants—it all painted a grim picture.

She had learned enough. Shen Yuyong, now a top scholar and rising star, could not be compared to before. Fangfei, no matter how talented or beautiful, was but a county official’s daughter. He had caught Princess Yongning’s eye—perhaps their affair had begun long ago—and Fangfei had become an obstacle, to be removed for the princess’s sake.

Remembering the day of her downfall—her mother-in-law’s banquet—Fangfei recalled seeing Princess Yongning there, even the smug smile at the princess’s lips.

So it was all clear now.

“Shen Lang is softhearted,” the princess said, settling into a chair, “and I’m not cruel by nature. I would have let you be, but you refuse to take the easy way.” She glanced at the medicine bowl and sighed, “Why do you persist?”

Fangfei couldn’t help but laugh coldly.

A bowl of medicine every day—she had long suspected something was wrong and poured it into the flowerpot instead. They wanted her to “die of illness,” making way for the princess. But she would not comply; her father had taught her never to cut off her own retreat until the final moment. Why should she? Why should she die by her own hand, when her husband and this princess had conspired to ruin her? Never!

Her voice dripped with scorn. “Stealing another’s marriage, killing the rightful wife and her kin—your ‘kindness’ is well received, Princess.”

For a moment, rage flashed in the princess’s eyes, but she quickly regained composure. Standing, she picked up the withered crabapple pot. The porcelain, small and delicate, was finely painted. Yongning toyed with it, smiling. “Do you know how your brother died?”

Fangfei’s back went rigid.

“Your brother was quite the character—just too young and impulsive.” The princess watched her reaction with satisfaction. “He managed to sense something was wrong, even found some evidence, and wanted to present it to the emperor—he nearly implicated me. He was clever enough to seek out the magistrate of Yanjing at night, but he didn’t know that magistrate and I are close. The magistrate reported to me at once.” The princess spread her hands in mock regret. “A pity—so young, so talented. Had things been different, he might have won glory for your family.”

Fangfei nearly broke her teeth with rage.

Xue Zhao! She had long suspected something was amiss. He had trained in martial arts, was clever since childhood—how could he be killed by mere bandits? But she’d never dreamed the truth was so cruel: her brother had tried to clear her name, and the very officials he turned to were in league with her enemies.

She cried, “Shameless! Shameless!”

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Princess Yongning’s brows shot up, mocking, “So what if you’re pure? Shut away in here, you probably don’t know your father’s fate. I came especially to tell you—your father has heard about your disgrace and your brother’s death at bandits’ hands. He was so enraged, he died!”

Fangfei froze. “Impossible!”

“Impossible?” The princess sneered. “Ask the servants yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Fangfei’s heart was thrown into chaos. Her father, Xue Huaiyuan, had lived upright and honest all his life, only to end up like this—a white-haired man losing both children, dying of grief and rage. She dared not imagine what despair he’d felt upon hearing the news.

So it is—those who kill and burn wear golden belts; those who build bridges and repair roads die unburied.

Princess Yongning, having spoken at length, grew impatient and set the crabapple pot on the table, signaling her maids forward.

Fangfei realized what was happening and called out, “What are you doing?”

The princess’s smile was bright with satisfaction and malice. “Xue Fangfei, you are known for your virtue and talents—you cannot be left with the stain of adultery. After months of torment, with Shen Lang treating you kindly as ever, you refuse to forgive yourself. So while he’s away, you hang yourself. How’s that? Doesn’t that save your reputation?” She changed expression, growing fierce. “If not for Shen Lang’s name, I’d show you no such mercy!”

“How dare you! How dare you!” Fangfei’s rage surged. But before she could resist, the two maids seized her.

“Shen Lang and I are destined for each other, but you stand in the way. If you were from a powerful family, perhaps I’d have to work harder. But your father is only a minor official; the Xues are nothing. Next time, choose a better family before you’re born.”

Despair overwhelmed Fangfei. She had clung to life, hoping for justice, but in the end, she could not resist the oppression of power and status.

Glancing up, she saw a familiar figure outside the window—her husband.

Hope flickered in her heart. She cried out, “Shen Yuyong! Shen Yuyong, to treat me so—heaven will not permit it! Shen Yuyong!”

The figure outside the window flinched and slipped away in haste. The princess snapped, “What are you waiting for? Do it!”

The maids rushed forward, a strip of white silk tightening around Fangfei’s neck. The silk was smooth as a beauty’s skin—a tribute from the Zhao family of Songjiang, worth a fortune. As she struggled, Fangfei thought—what a precious murder weapon.

The princess stood just three steps away, watching coldly as Fangfei thrashed like a dying fish. “Remember this: no matter how beautiful or talented you are, you’re still only a minor official’s daughter. Crushing you is as easy as killing an ant.”

In her struggles, Fangfei knocked the crabapple pot to the floor, smashing it to pieces. The soil inside, laced with the scent of bitter medicine, spilled out; the withered branches lay broken, the painted flowers shattered.

In the mortal world, come April, all the blossoms fall.

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Author’s Note:

Hello, everyone, it’s been a while—your Chacha is back! Taking this spot for a new story: after the Spring Festival, updates will begin. This new tale is about a fierce young lady and a beautiful villain bringing down the wicked—if you like it, save it to your list! See you after the holiday. Finally, wishing everyone good fortune in the Year of the Rooster!