Chapter 30: The Mistress Pays a Visit

“Madam, Miss, a lady has arrived with her maid to pay a visit. She said she was invited by the Second Miss and is now waiting in the flower hall.”

“Let’s go, Mother. We shouldn’t keep our guest waiting,” Shen Qingyun said with a smile, pleased at the timing. Let this self-assured Lady Yue witness what true grace looks like in the mistress of a noble household.

Han had no choice but to accompany Shen Qingyun to the flower hall. Upon entering, they saw a woman seated, quietly savoring her tea, with the maid Ling’er standing behind her, looking much more docile than before.

The woman wore a pine-colored cross-collared jacket, its neckline adorned with yellow wintersweet blossoms. Her skirt was a pale cream gauze, embroidered subtly with clusters of gold-threaded flowers. Her hair was arranged in a flowing cloud bun, decorated with a purple bamboo hairpin and small ivory flowers. Her brows were gentle as water, her skin as fair as snow; she exuded a fresh, elegant charm, reminiscent of the women of the south, and looked considerably younger than expected.

However...

“Mother, this is Lady Yue,” Shen Qingyun introduced with a smile.

Lady Yue gazed at Han, utterly captivated, so much so that she missed Shen Qingyun’s words. Was this graceful, dignified woman before her truly Han Rou? She was nothing like what Lady Yue had imagined.

Lady Yue herself was certainly beautiful—a type favored and cherished by many men. Yet, when set beside Han’s poised and noble presence, it was like comparing a wildflower to a peony: one can be plucked casually by the roadside, while the other must be cherished and protected within the home.

The shock and disappointment in Lady Yue’s expression did not escape Shen Qingyun’s notice, filling her heart with satisfaction. She couldn’t help but silently scorn Shen Zhifeng—how could he neglect a beauty like her mother in favor of someone as unremarkable as Lady Yue?

“Lady Yue, my apologies for keeping you waiting,” Han said, her upbringing evident as she maintained her composure and smiled, inviting Shen Qingyun to take the seat of honor.

Lady Yue shook her head. “I’ve only just arrived myself. I’ve heard Lord Shen speak of you many times, Madam, and today I find you even more dignified and beautiful than I imagined. Lord Shen is truly fortunate.”

To Shen Qingyun, the words carried a hint of envy.

She spoke up, “We actually have an elder sister at home, Shen Sisi, but unfortunately she’s caught a chill today and cannot join us. Please don’t blame her for missing the occasion, Madam.”

“Of course not.”

“Oh, speaking of Sister Sisi, I just realized that Madam and my sister bear quite a resemblance. Next time you meet, I’m sure you’ll feel an instant kinship,” Shen Qingyun said, deliberately touching on sensitive ground.

At that very moment, Shen Sisi, lying sick in bed, sneezed violently and angrily called out, “Hongyu, you lazy girl, are you slacking off? Why haven’t you brought my medicine yet?”

Lady Yue was momentarily flustered but quickly regained her composure. “Second Miss is joking. I could never compare to your eldest sister.”

“How could I be joking? Mother, look at Lady Yue’s lips and face shape. If you covered her eyes, wouldn’t she resemble our eldest sister by seventy percent?” Shen Qingyun smiled innocently, yet her detailed remarks prompted everyone to observe more closely.

It was true—the more they looked, the more alike they seemed.

Han smiled, “Qingyun, don’t be mischievous. Still, Lady Yue and Sisi do share some resemblance. No wonder I felt a sense of familiarity upon meeting Lady Yue.”

“Heh, is that so?” Lady Yue forced a smile and said no more.

Sensing the atmosphere was about to cool again, Shen Qingyun suggested, “Why don’t I show Lady Yue around the marquis’s garden? I’ve arranged some things at the pavilion; we can enjoy the scenery and some tea there.”

Han, needing to attend to some household matters, found the suggestion appropriate and nodded. “Lady Yue, you go ahead with Qingyun. I’ll join you at the pavilion shortly.”

“Let’s go, Madam,” Shen Qingyun said, rising.

Lady Yue, uncomfortable with Shen Qingyun’s half-smile, nonetheless followed her.

Along the way, every maid and servant they passed greeted them respectfully: “Second Miss.”

They crossed courtyards, stepped over stone stairs, and walked through a hanging flower gate into a corridor. On one side, white walls were adorned with intricately carved windows, while the other side was lush with coffin flowers and foliage, their fragrance filling the air.

Continuing along the stone path, a towering ten-meter rockery loomed majestically nearby. At its base, a small lotus pond had been dug, its waters flowing gently. A little bridge arched over the pond, with green trees and vibrant flowers all around. Beyond it, they could see the pavilion in the distance, its four flying eaves hung with bronze bells and draped with gauze curtains swaying in the breeze—beautiful and splendid.

Ling’er, dazzled by the sights, couldn’t help but whisper to Lady Yue, “Madam, the Duke’s residence is so vast and beautiful.”

Lady Yue herself was awed, but she shot Ling’er a warning glance, urging her to mind her words lest they be ridiculed.

Yet their wide-eyed wonder had already been noticed by Pearl, who silently thought that the Duke’s friend must not be from a grand household, or else she wouldn’t be so unfamiliar with such scenes.

All this unfolded just as Shen Qingyun had anticipated.

Lady Yue, spoiled and proud by nature, had always lived in the small courtyard Shen Zhifeng purchased for her, and ran a jewelry shop that brought her satisfaction and comfort. Now, confronted by the opulence of the Duke’s residence—wealth and splendor beyond her imagination—how could she not harbor secret thoughts?

They arrived at the pavilion, where maids immediately served fruits and pastries, poured out freshly brewed tea, and quietly waited to attend them.

“Madam, please have some tea. This is Junshan Silver Needle—see if it suits your taste?” Shen Qingyun smiled, her expression perfectly sincere.

Lady Yue took a sip. The tea leaves were uniform and needle-thin, the liquid golden and fragrant. Bitterness welled in her heart; such fine tea would surely suit anyone’s taste, yet she had never had it before, while Shen Qingyun offered it freely to guests.

Clearly, for the Duke’s household, such tea was nothing extraordinary.

“Thank you, Second Miss. I’ve never tasted such fine tea,” Lady Yue couldn’t help but remark with a hint of envy.

“Oh?” Shen Qingyun gently blew on her tea and, as if casually, asked, “I haven’t yet heard, what does Madam’s family do?”

Lady Yue’s expression tightened. “Nothing much. My husband passed away years ago; I prefer not to speak of it.”

Shen Qingyun expressed understanding, though inwardly she wondered what Shen Zhifeng would think upon hearing such words.

She smiled again. “Madam, you are young and beautiful—have you ever considered remarrying?”