The air in the eastern salon was warm, infused with the scent of green tea laced with jasmine. Shen Tao Hua sat with Lady Ru Lan Lianh and her husband, Master Liang Jian. Their conversation was more than a polite introduction; it was an unspoken examination—of imperial‑capital commerce, of market secrets, of servants regarded not as silent tools but as murmuring voices behind the walls.
Tao Hua listened with every sense. She did not interrupt, did not flaunt her wit. She merely recorded, weighed, and analyzed. In the lady's timbre, in the master's smallest gesture, she traced the filaments of a web she had come to understand.
A soft knock broke the tea‑scented hush. A pallid servant entered, bowing low, voice trembling:
"Master… at Sir Sang's silk shop, an incident—a young woman claims she has broken out in a rash after wearing a gown woven from our silk."
Silence thickened; husband and wife traded swift glances before Lady Ru Lan spoke in a tone Tao Hua had never yet heard from her:
"Summon every merchant who sells our cloth. We will hold an urgent council in the western wing."
Master Liang Jian nodded, his voice steely:
"The meeting will be closed. There is no room for delay."
The servant bowed once more and hurried off.
Lady Ru Lan turned to Tao Hua, clasped her hand gently, yet her words were iron beneath silk:
"My dear Tao Hua, you will see another face of this house today. Not the face of banquets and courtesies, but of crisis. Come—wisdom begins in the storm."
Tao Hua offered a faint smile, quiet yet confident:
"I am certain the silk is flawless… and truth will show itself."
Both hosts smiled back, then led the way toward the western wing, Tao Hua following—her steps as calm as one entering a chamber of war.
The western hall was vast, clad in black and gray, lacquered wood gleaming like mirrors, trapping every glimmer of lamplight. At its head stood two stately seats for Sun Wu's parents; before them, a single elegant chair—placed as one installs the seat of a future matriarch.
Tao Hua's breath caught.
That… is that my place? Am I already meant to sit in the mistress's chair?
Her heart quickened, yet it did not falter; it reminded her why she was here. She told herself that Sun Wu would surely be absent—no doubt idling in some tavern over chess—and that suited her. His absence would grant her a clearer view.
Merchants filed in. Some whispered about the mysterious young woman seated beside the masters' chairs; others murmured over the rumored rash. Surprise mingled with a sting of envy in many an eye.
Lady Ru Lan rose, voice firm yet graceful:
"Before we speak of silk or accusations, allow me to present the young lady at my side. She is the fiancée of our heir, Liang Sun Wu.Their wedding is set for the fifth month, by direct decree of Her Majesty the Empress herself—who praised this young woman's virtue, grace, and prudence. I concur with Her Majesty entirely."
A hush of astonishment swept the hall. One merchant ventured:
"Yet… who is she? Not of the seven noble houses, nor among the city's renowned maidens."
In that instant Tao Hua wished to shrink from all eyes, but Lady Ru Lan's reply rang clear:
"She is the daughter of Merchant Shen—indeed, of a concubine. And what of that? Character is not birthed by pedigree alone. Oft‑times, true nobility is born in shadow."
Silence settled, almost reverent, until Lady Ru Lan continued:
"But we digress. We are gathered for the matter recurring in Sir Sang's shop."
Master Liang Jian's tone sharpened:
"Sir Sang, this is not the first complaint from your store. I am fully certain our silk is as pure as moonlight. Then where lies the flaw?"
The merchant stepped forward, bowing, voice quaking:
"I would never dare deceive you, Master… I sell only what is sent to me. I do not know where the problem lies—if there is a problem at all."
Tao Hua studied him. No trace of deceit—only bewilderment.
Within her mind, threads of possibility wove swiftly:
Either a servant swaps the cloth in secret…or the young woman exploits the shop's willingness to pay such claims…or Sir Sang is innocent, yet someone among his workers betrays him.
She spoke softly, yet the hall was drawn to her quiet authority:
"I suggest we hear the young woman's account. Mother, Father—if you agree, her testimony may provide the first strand of truth."
The master glanced at his wife; she nodded. A single motion summoned a guard.
"Bring her in… Time to learn who spins deception—and who weaves the genuine thread.
The hall was crowded with faces and murmurs when the door to the rear corridor opened, and two guards entered, escorting a girl in the spring of her youth. Her face—once the mirror of a peach blossom—was now flushed to the point of burning, marred by angry blisters like a branded shame that no merciful hand could soothe. She screamed, struggling in the guards' grip:
"Let me go! Let me go! Who will ever marry me now?!"
With a simple gesture from Liang Jian, the guards released her, and she collapsed onto the polished stone floor. She threw herself at the feet of Madam Ru Lan, weeping, wailing, showing them the disaster carved into her cheeks.
That's when Shen Tao Hua stepped forward, her gaze calm but shimmering with a spark of undisclosed strategy. She leaned slightly, her voice woven with gentleness and cunning:
"Don't cry. I am Shen Tao Hua. If you prove your honesty today, I shall make you the concubine of my fiancé, Liang Sun Wu."
A collective gasp swept through the hall. Whispers bloomed like wildfire. But Madam Ru Lan caught a fleeting glance from her future daughter-in-law and understood — this was bait.
Tao Hua approached the kneeling girl, lifting her chin gently, examining the redness, the swelling, the cuts.
"I know a little about medicine," she said with the calm authority of a healer. "Pure silk never causes this kind of rash. Only what it is mixed or treated with might. Everyone knows the integrity of my future in-laws. Still, these recurring incidents... they raise questions."
She tilted the girl's face under the soft lantern light:
"These are not stains, but blisters. And you've scratched yourself — see the marks? The damage will scar, no matter what ointment you apply."
Merchant Sang bowed low, sweat glistening on his brow:
"Thank you, Miss Shen. Thank you for your wisdom!"
She gestured gently for him to rise:
"Your innocence is possible, Master Sang. Two other possibilities remain. Let us test one of them now."
From her sleeve, she drew a small jar—white with a gold-lacquered lid—and applied a dot of the cream onto the girl's hand. Within moments, redness bloomed, followed by blisters identical to those on her face. Tao Hua allowed herself a half-smile.
The girl flinched back, crying:
"Look! She's ruined my hand too!"
But then silence. A stillness that froze her words. In her eyes, the flicker of dawning realization — the trap had closed, and she had walked straight into it.
The murmurs in the room hardened into certainty. Master Liang signaled the guards:
"Take her away."
They moved to seize her, but she spun around like a wounded beast, yanked a crimson hairpin from her locks, and lunged toward Tao Hua with lethal intent.
Steel flashed. Two seconds... three. Then, silence.
Tao Hua stood, unmoved — untouched. She turned to see a tall, handsome young man drop to one knee. The pin was embedded in his shoulder. His face pale, a thin line of blood at his lips.
"My son!" cried Madam Ru Lan, rushing to him, tears already staining her sleeves.
The deceitful girl was dragged away in chains. Sun Wu — who had arrived just as Tao Hua had doubted he would — now breathed with difficulty.
Servants ran to summon the imperial physician. But Tao Hua had already dropped to her knees, fingers checking his neck for life.
His pulse — faint.
"It's the poison of the Opas Tree," she whispered. "It travels with the blood. We must act now."
She pulled the pin from his shoulder. Pressed her lips to the wound. Sucked the poisoned blood. Spat it. Repeated. Her brow beaded with sweat. The mother wept. The father held her.
But the pulse slowed.
Tao Hua shouted, voice tight with desperation:
"It's not enough—carry him to the inner chamber! I will prepare the antidote until the physician arrives!"