Being a second wife is difficult: I'm busy raising children in the Earl's mansion.

The lights in Ruige Pavilion were dim, and the paper windows reflected a warm glow.

The fire in the stove burned steadily, dispelling the chill of the night.

Fang sat quietly at her desk, her fingertips twirling a half-finished piece of brocade, but her mind was still focused on the decision made at Bai Ri Song He Tang.

The heavy weight that had been pressing on my heart for days has finally been lifted, but the depression has not completely dissipated.

The courtyard gate creaked softly, and footsteps landed steadily under the eaves.

Fang didn't even raise her head, her fingertips still slowly moving the stitches, knowing in her heart who had come.

Lu Huaiyu lifted the curtain and entered, bringing with him the cool air of the night.

He paused by the door, his daytime scholarly demeanor gone, replaced by a rare look of shame.

After he sat down, the room was quiet for a while before he spoke, his voice low: "It was my fault regarding Cui'er's matter."

Fang paused for a moment, then let out a short snort, carrying an undisguised contempt, before steadily dropping the needle without even lifting her eyelids.

Lu Huaiyu waited for a while, but when she didn't respond, he added, "I've left all the affairs of the manor to you all these years. You've upheld the dignity of the second branch of the family. When the Fang family came to cause trouble, I didn't do anything to protect you."

He paused here, seemingly pondering how to continue, before saying, "It was my oversight before."

Only then did Madam Fang raise her eyes to look at him, fiddling with the needle, and slowly drawled out, "Oh, Second Master, has the sun risen in the west today?"

She chuckled, but there was little warmth in her laughter. "Someone who keeps the study door closed all day, when did you learn to peek into the inner quarters?"

Lu Huaiyu was speechless at her words, her ears turned slightly red, and her lips moved as if she wanted to argue but didn't know where to start.

Fang gave him no chance to catch his breath, placing the needle on the brocade and continuing in a neither loud nor soft voice.

"I've always thought of you as someone who only knows how to read but not how to recognize people. Even if the sky were to fall outside, it wouldn't concern you. Now that you've learned to say 'that's not right,' that's really something."

Lu Huaiyu listened with his head down, offering no rebuttal.

He rested his hands on his knees, his knuckles curling slightly, as if he wanted to say something but swallowed it back. In the end, he only muttered, "You're right."

Fang was speechless for a moment after hearing that. It would be better to talk back to a block of wood than to him!

It's a waste of time and energy; this person is even more wooden than a block of wood.

She put down her embroidery and leaned back in her chair, watching him sit there with his head down, his shoulders slightly slumped. He was genuinely admitting his mistake, without even offering a perfunctory attempt to salvage the situation.

She couldn't vent her anger for a moment, and was left with only an inexplicable sense of irritation.

The resentment is real, of course, but there's nothing left to resent now.

She simply couldn't understand why he had suddenly come over today to say such awkward "apologies"—

It's highly likely that the old lady reminded him, or that a servant whispered something in his ear; it's impossible that he genuinely wanted to admit his mistake on his own.

She was too lazy to think about it anymore. She had already achieved most of her goal, and if she continued to entangle herself, she would only end up hurting herself.

Thinking of this, she waved her hand and softened her tone: "Alright, there's no point in dwelling on the past."

"Now that you've already heard about it, after the child is born, don't be a hands-off manager anymore. The second house is our shared space, not just my responsibility."

Lu Huaiyu looked up at her and nodded solemnly: "I've remembered it." He paused, then added, "I will pay more attention to matters in the manor from now on."

Fang didn't look at him again, lowered her head and picked up her needle and thread again, casually saying, "It's getting late, Second Master, you should go back," thus ending the conversation.

She knew in her heart that she had heard these words today, but how much she would remember in the future remained to be seen. As long as the second wife was no longer an enemy, that was enough. She didn't want to waste any more energy arguing with a blockhead.

Lu Huaiyu got up and left, her steps lighter than when she came. She glanced back at Fang when she lifted the curtain. Fang didn't look up; she only heard the curtain fall and the sound of her footsteps fade away.

In a secluded, forbidden courtyard, Cui'er sat by the window. The window paper was thick, and the light coming through was dim.

She held a piece of freshly cut plain brocade in her hand, her sewing box resting on her lap, her fingertips fiddling with it for a while without moving the needle.

The old lady's decision was announced during the day, and the restrictions placed on her place were lifted. However, the side courtyard was deserted, and not many people came over.

The child will remain at the Earl's residence and be raised under Madam Fang's care. When she leaves the residence, she will have a sum of money, which she will place in the old lady's private estate.

Although things haven't gotten to the worst point, she couldn't quite describe her feelings as she sat by the window.

With money in hand, one is free, and no longer needs to live a life of subservience in a secluded mansion.

But after going around in circles, moving from one courtyard to another, she ultimately failed to leave anything behind.

She has never held that child even once, and she probably won't have the chance again.

—Of course she doesn't regret it.

Cui'er sat for a long time before picking up her needle and thread, choosing a piece of begonia-colored thread.

There was no special technique used; I simply outlined the peony in a few stitches on the corner of the handkerchief. It was simple, as if I had just drawn it on casually.

It was the kind of pattern she often embroidered in Fang's room.

Peonies were Fang's favorite flower.

She planned to embroider another handkerchief to give to Madam Fang.

The stitches were done slowly, pausing occasionally before continuing.

She didn't know if Fang would accept her things again, but she felt she should keep something.

Over the years, no matter how much resentment Fang Shi harbored towards her, she never laid a heavy hand on her, nor did she have the heart to send her to her death.

She felt guilty for not returning the favor.

She didn't know which estate she would be sent to, nor how she would live her life afterward.

But at least for now, I'm still alive, and I'm still alive; I haven't lost everything.

She thought of Granny Ding again.

I wonder how Granny Ding is doing now.

She heard that Granny Ding had been kicked out of the mansion.

But if Granny Ding is still alive, perhaps when she arrives at the estate, someone can be sent to inquire and bring Granny Ding over to live with her in her old age.

After all, it was she who implicated Granny Ding.

This was the only compensation she could think of.

At least for now, she still has a future.

It's worth it.

The sky outside the window gradually darkened, but Cui'er did not light a lamp.

After finishing the last stitch, she tidied up the sewing box and put it back in the corner.

She didn't know which estate she would be sent to, nor how she would live her life afterward.

But at least for now, I'm still alive, and I'm still alive; I haven't lost everything.

A few days later, snow quietly fell over the capital.

There were no fierce winds or freezing rain.

The snowflakes fell lightly and softly, covering the pavilions, towers, eaves, and branches one by one.

The clouds on the horizon were thin and transparent, with a few rays of pale golden sunlight filtering through the gaps, making the snow appear warm and white.

The wind was gentle, neither painful nor cold on the face, but rather carried a rare refreshing coolness in winter.

As the old saying goes, a timely snowfall promises a bumper harvest, and this favorable weather is the best proof of that.

The back garden of the Yongchang Marquis's mansion must be bustling with activity again.