My birth mother passed away when I was still in swaddling clothes, and the cause of her death remained a closely guarded secret throughout the Marquis' estate. When I was just old enough to remember things, during a drowsy midday nap, my wet nurse sat beside me, stroking my head while sighing to the maids in a drawn-out tone: "Though De Ge'er was born into wealth, he's still a pitiful child. His mother was truly heartless to leave in such a fit of pique - what will become of this child? Though the Marquis dotes on him, he's still a man who must establish his career outside. How could he constantly attend to the boy? Tsk tsk—"
After waking up, I went to ask my father about my mother - what did "leaving in a fit of pique" mean? My father was usually a kind, smiling man, but that was the first time I saw him frown coldly with sharp eyes as he demanded: "Which blind servant has been spreading nonsense before the young master!" He ordered someone to take me out to play. I secretly slipped back and saw my wet nurse and maids kneeling before my father, slapping their own faces. After that, no one dared mention my mother in front of me again.
After two or three days, my father took me to his study and showed me a painting hanging on the wall. The painting depicted a woman in light green robes, with raven-black hair and powdered face, smiling demurely as she held a lotus flower. Father said: "She was your mother—" then couldn't continue, his face full of sorrow and regret as he repeatedly stroked my head. I didn't dare ask the many questions filling my heart, only staring blankly at the painted woman, unable to imagine she had once been a living person.
I had older brothers and sisters who treated me with extreme coldness and indifference. Throughout the estate, only my father and the servants attending me treated me well. In my heart, I secretly regarded my wet nurse as my mother, and my personal maid Bichan as my mother too, yet felt this wasn't right - they bore no resemblance whatsoever to the woman in the painting. It wasn't until I met Uncle Lin's concubine Chen Xianglan that my heart finally settled peacefully - my mother should have looked exactly like her.
Xianglan treated me extremely well, speaking to me gently with warm concern, personally making clothes and shoes for me, teaching me to read and write, and listening to my troubles. Once when my legitimate second brother from the main household bullied me, calling me "born of servants and raised by servants, your birth mother was lowborn trash!" I became furious. Since I couldn't beat him, I took advantage of his inattention to pick up a stone and hit his head with it. He cried immediately from the pain, and maids and old women quickly pulled us apart. With father away from home, my eldest brother came to mediate. Since second brother was also at fault and I was still young, the matter was eventually dropped.
I excitedly told Xianglan about this incident, expecting her to praise me, but unexpectedly she looked stern and said: "Go face the wall and reflect on your behavior."
I was bewildered, blinking my eyes and pouting, not knowing what I had done wrong, and could only look at her with pitiful puppy-dog eyes. Xianglan said: "Think carefully about what you did wrong. I'll question you later."
Xianglan was like a mother in my heart, and I didn't want to anger her. So I let out a small sigh, put down the little wooden sword I was holding, lowered my head as far as possible, slumped my shoulders miserably, and dragged my feet forward as if weighted down by iron chains, each step feeling incredibly heavy. I walked slowly enough, turning back every couple steps with hopeful glances, but seeing Xianglan's raised eyebrows and stern expression, I could only pout and turn away, completely dejected and dispirited as I drooped my head against the wall, sinking into the shadows.I don't know how much time had passed when I heard Xianglan say, "Alright, you can come over now."
I breathed a sigh of relief, turned around and ran to hug Xianglan's arm. "I didn't speak or move at all earlier—I was very well-behaved!"
Xianglan patted my head. "De Ge'er is the bravest, just like a true gentleman who takes responsibility for his own mistakes."
Hearing this, I immediately became happy. "Really? Just like my father?"
Xianglan nodded at once. "That's right, De Ge'er is a little gentleman now."
"Oh!" I immediately straightened my shoulders.
"Then tell me, what did you do wrong?"
At this question, I hung my head again, my hands twisting together. I truly didn't think I had done anything wrong. After struggling for a long time, I still couldn't speak. Then I heard Xianglan say, "Your mistake was turning a verbal argument into physical violence. Remember this today: no matter how harsh others' words may be in the future, you must restrain yourself. You cannot get angry, you cannot resort to violence. If you hurt someone in a moment of impulse and cause serious trouble, you'll regret it when it's too late."
"But he insulted my mother—I couldn't help it—"
Xianglan pulled me closer and looked into my eyes. "Gossip and slander come from others' mouths—we can't control that. A towering mountain won't lose an inch of its height no matter how much it's cursed; a vast sea won't lose a drop of water no matter how much it's slandered. Only small leaves fly away with an ordinary person's breath. You need to steady your heart like a mountain—unmoved by whatever others say—and like the sea, capable of accommodating everything, no matter how unpleasant. You can't jump up ready to fight at a few sour, hurtful words from others. It might seem like you're saving face and not accepting defeat, but actually it shows lack of confidence and composure. If you can't endure a few harsh words, what great things will you be able to accomplish in the future?"
As she spoke, she personally wrung out a towel and wiped my face, saying quietly, "Your mother was the strongest and most upright person. She would be happy to see you make something of yourself. If she were still here, she definitely wouldn't want you hurting people with stones. The more others deliberately try to provoke you with harsh words, the more you should ignore them, remain calm, and focus on proving yourself through achievements. True competition isn't about words or fists—understand?"
Leaning against Xianglan's chest, I nodded, feeling my heart suddenly become calm and settled.
Xianglan extended her finger and whispered in my ear, "Then we have a deal—next time no matter what unpleasant things you hear from others, you won't resort to violence, and certainly won't curse like a shrew, alright?" I responded with "Mhm" and extended my pinky finger to hook it with Xianglan's.
Later, whenever I heard gossip or harsh words, I would remember Xianglan's advice and quickly extinguish the flames of anger. I would calmly let it go and quietly focus on proving myself. Only many years later, when I recalled this incident, did I suddenly understand what Xianglan had truly taught me that day.
Later still, my father married Uncle Lin's fourth younger sister as his second wife, and Xianglan became my aunt. I had little affection for my stepmother, merely maintaining surface courtesy, but she never made things difficult for me either. We couldn't pretend to have a loving mother-son relationship, so we simply avoided each other to maintain peace. My aunt still cared about me—whenever she returned to the capital, she would either bring me to stay with her or have someone bring me to Jinling, where I would live for half a year at a time.I've always enjoyed staying at my uncle and aunt's home—it's peaceful and warm. My uncle, who usually carries himself like an Overlord, becomes as docile as a cat basking in sunlight around my aunt. She bore him two sons and a daughter in her lifetime, and he never took a Concubine. I remember once when a subordinate named Han Guangye presented him with a stunning beauty, my uncle insisted on giving her to me instead. Patting my shoulder, he sighed, "Kid, you're at the age to learn about worldly affairs. Your father has terrible taste—look at those maids around you, what dreadful faces they have! Your uncle cares for you, so I'm giving you a proper one."
I was caught between laughter and tears, so flustered I didn't know what to do with my hands and feet. Stammering, I declined, "You should keep her, Uncle, you keep her—"
My uncle chuckled, "If I kept her, your aunt wouldn't say anything, but she'd surely feel hurt inside." He then sighed deeply, "You haven't been to the battlefield yet, so you don't understand what life-and-death camaraderie means. Your aunt and I share that bond. Besides, I love her dearly and can't bear to see her upset. Those fresh young beauties are merely pleasing to the eye—what do they know about human relationships, worldly wisdom, or scholarly pursuits? They're rather dull. True comfort comes from the one sitting by your bedside. You'll understand when you find someone who truly touches your heart." Speaking like a romantic hero, he patted my shoulder again with a "I've been through it all, you're still too green, you don't get it, nobody understands me" expression. Sighing repeatedly, he trotted off to find my aunt.
Their eldest son, Lin Kuo, was the spitting image of my uncle but possessed an exceptionally reserved and steady temperament. Even as a child, he carried an imposing dignity without needing to show anger. He never complained during martial arts training or studies, and later succeeded my uncle in commanding the Lin Family Army. When Kuo was eight, my aunt gave birth to a daughter named Lin Junrong, a jade-like child so adorable my uncle doted on her excessively. At five, Rong began learning the zither. Her daily practice of "haphazard plucking and strumming" felt like each note was plucked directly on one's temples—so painfully off-key it was unbearable, worse than the sound of cotton fluffing outside. My uncle, perhaps deaf to it, believed Rong was playing celestial music. Whenever free, he'd have her "play a tune for your father's enjoyment," often sitting grandly in the armchair at Pruning Autumn Pavilion, beating time on his thigh and swaying his head. As Rong's playing gradually improved, my aunt gave birth to their youngest son, Lin Xian. My uncle proudly declared, "My two sons—Lin Kuo (Vast) and Lin Xian (Leisure)—will have both wealth and leisure. The meaning behind these names runs deep." Yet Xian was mischievous as a monkey from childhood, never staying still for a moment. While he resembled my aunt more in appearance, his temperament mirrored my uncle's perfectly. He caused constant trouble and acted like a little Overlord. Everyone thought a naughty boy would make a fine general, expecting the Lin Family to produce another commander, but unexpectedly he later took to studying as if enlightened, eventually rising to become Provincial Administration Commissioner.
I was extremely close to all three of my uncle's children, as if they were my own younger siblings. On the day Rong married, Lin Kuo was leading troops in the southwest and couldn't return in time, so I carried her on my back as her elder brother to see her off. My uncle's eyes remained red throughout, secretly wiping their corners. My aunt whispered that he hadn't slept all night, regretting they should have found a live-in son-in-law instead of chasing vanity by marrying her to the Third Rank Scholar.I have reached the age for marriage discussions, having achieved the position of a fourth-rank military commander entirely through my own merits earned blade by blade and sword by sword. My stepmother wished to interfere in my marriage arrangements. My father maintained a distant and indifferent relationship with her, constantly occupied with military affairs and rarely returning home. He took me under his wing to train me in the army. My stepmother had no choice; she had given birth to two daughters and finally had a son with her third child, but he died prematurely. Everyone advised her to make early arrangements—it would be best if she could bear another child herself, but if she couldn’t in the future, she should at least select one from among the children below to adopt under her name. After much deliberation, she chose me and also wanted to find me a powerful in-law family.
My aunt learned of this and personally took charge of the matchmaking, sending the selected candidate through my uncle to my father, who agreed immediately. I married the daughter of Academician Qiao from the Hanlin Academy. Lady Qiao was delicate and charming, extremely virtuous, lively and fond of laughter, and had a modest understanding of the classics, history, philosophy, literature, music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Our married life was very harmonious.
In the second year of my marriage, the emperor passed away, and the Crown Prince ascended the throne. Not long after, he personally overturned the unjust case against Shen Jia, returning all the confiscated property to the family. However, by then, the members of Shen Jia had all perished, and in the end, the property was transferred to me. My father looked at me with a complex expression and finally brought up the past, posthumously recognizing my birth mother as his deceased wife. My mother’s grave was at last honorably moved to the Yuan family’s ancestral burial ground. My father personally oversaw the relocation. When the coffin was exhumed, he gently touched it, his eyes filled with sorrow, his lips pale. Though the early spring weather was not cold, my father trembled slightly all over.
My wife whispered to me, "Father-in-law is like this because he is grieving. I’ve heard that he has kept a portrait of Mother-in-law hanging in his study all these years. It’s been like this for many years—truly a testament to his sincere feelings." Her words carried a hint of envy. I silently offered a toast to my mother, pouring the wine before her grave. I thought to myself, this was not what my mother would have cared about—not the posthumous vindication, the extreme honors in death, or my father’s decades of guilt and sincerity. That poor woman would have wished for a life like my aunt’s, with a husband and children, living in harmony and joy. Sadly, she was filled with despair back then, not knowing when the long wait and suffering would end, so she could wait no longer and could endure no more. If she had known that one day Shen Jia would be exonerated, what would she have done? If she had known that I would strive so hard and achieve so much, what would she have done? Would she still have been so resolute as to abandon me and leave like that?
But alas, there are no "ifs" in this world.
This extra chapter is excellent, as it explains both the child and the subsequent fates of the main characters. Hehe.
There’s also an afterword following this, which is my summary of the entire novel. It’s free, so feel free to take a look if you’re interested ^_^
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