The Wen family matriarch's birthday banquet was in full swing.
Zheng Qian held her cat as she returned to the courtyard where the feast was being held. The pounding drums and lively music filled the air, mingled with laughter and chatter, but her mind wandered elsewhere.
"How am I going to get my betrothal gift back?" she thought.
Her dowry would surely be pitiful.
The money from the Wen family had likely already gone straight into the pockets of the Marquis of Jing'an, the matriarch, and the third madam.
They were marrying her off to the Wen family purely for the money, weren't they?
Recovering such a large sum would not be easy—most of it might already have been spent.
The Jing'an Marquis's household had countless servants maintaining a luxurious life that wasn't theirs. The money was long gone into circulation. Trying to retrieve it now might delay her disengagement and not be worth the trouble.
"I'll pay for the withdrawal myself first, then gradually deal with the Marquis's household, trying to recover as much of my loss as possible," Zheng Qian planned.
The plan for breaking the engagement had two steps:
Step One: Obtain the money and return it to the Wen family. No matter how much the Wen matriarch or Wen Zhao humiliated her, she didn't want to take advantage of the Wen family—the betrothal gifts had to be returned. Even if she didn't want to, if the Wen family brought the case to the authorities, the money would have to go back.
Step Two: Provide her older brother with a prosthetic so he could walk normally. Then he could issue the formal letter to break the engagement or compel the Marquis of Jing'an to release her.
The money would have to come from Prince Ancheng; the prosthetic was in her spatial storage, but given her brother's temperament, he might be reluctant to accept her help.
"Take it slow," Zheng Qian murmured, stroking her cat's back.
The cat meowed softly, almost pleading.
But the noise around them was too loud; Zheng Qian didn't hear it.
Soon, a Wen family girl approached to greet Zheng Qian. She was one of Wen Zhao's sisters, likely a full sister, stunningly beautiful.
"Miss Mei," the girl said. Her name was Wen Jin, Wen Zhao's younger sister, two years his junior.
Like her mother and brother, Wen Jin's mind wasn't particularly sharp, but her beauty was celestial; every expression could captivate people. Fortunately, her personality was decent.
"…Miss Mei, your cat is so beautiful. May I hold it?" Wen Jin asked.
Zheng Qian: "It scratches people."
"A cat scratches?" Wen Jin was surprised. "Then do you hit it? Last time I visited Princess Baoqing's residence, their cat scratched people, and the princess cut its claws."
Zheng Qian: "…"
The Wen siblings never seemed to know what they should or shouldn't say.
It was a lesson: never commit mischief in front of such slow-witted people.
Zheng Qian covered Achou's ears, afraid he would hear and be scared. "I don't hit him, nor will I cut his claws. I'll work on becoming better."
Wen Jin blinked in confusion. "Becoming better?"
"Yes. That way, even if I raise a spoiled brat, others won't dare complain, and might even insincerely praise it as cute," Zheng Qian explained.
Wen Jin's flawless face briefly blanked, trying to follow the unusual logic.
Zheng Qian thought: if she were a man, this stunning girl would be worth collecting. Like her brother, she seemed naïve but not foolish—rather, endearing.
The cat glanced at Zheng Qian, sighing internally, knowing she cared. But there was nothing it could do.
"Miss Mei, Prince Ancheng said you sold the abacus to him, is that true?" Wen Jin switched topics, realizing she didn't understand Zheng Qian's earlier words.
Zheng Qian nodded.
Wen Jin: "Amazing! Mother tried to teach me, but I just couldn't learn."
"Don't worry, many people can't," Zheng Qian reassured her.
Wen Jin was overjoyed. "I'll tell Mother so she won't scold me for being dumb."
Zheng Qian smiled.
Wen Jin was innocent, with no malice; her mind couldn't hold any schemes.
Later, Wen Zhao and the other grandchildren came to pay respects to the matriarch.
Seeing the wound on Wen Zhao's face, the matriarch gasped: "How did this happen?"
Wen Zhao: "Grandmother, I was defending against a rogue… and got hurt."
He recounted Zheng Qian's explanation to the matriarch.
Everyone praised him for his bravery.
Wen Zhao was pleased, secretly glancing at Zheng Qian.
The matriarch was speechless.
Only Wen Jin, like her brother, didn't quite understand social nuances: "Big brother, that wound doesn't look like it came from iron claws—it looks like a cat scratched you."
Everyone couldn't help but laugh.
Wen Zhao was furious.
Zheng Qian lowered her head, hiding a smile at the corner of her lips.
The Wen siblings, though lacking in intelligence, were quite amusing. After all, beauty always earned extra forgiveness.
After the banquet, the Zheng family prepared to leave.
The Wen matriarch personally saw Zheng Qian to the gate, holding her hand tightly: "Good child, keep in touch with your sister Jin'er. Don't always stay cooped up at home."
Zheng Qian looked at the elder, sensing that she understood her wish to break the engagement.
The Wen family's great fortune was largely due to this matriarch.
Sadly, one day she would pass, and the estate would be under the control of the first madam…
Zheng Qian thought: the Wen family might not remain this wealthy for three generations; as long as they surpass the current generation, their ancestral tombs would be honored.
"Yes, Grandmother," Zheng Qian replied with a gentle smile and calm grace, befitting a noble lady.
The matriarch squeezed her hand again before bidding them farewell.
Zheng Qian returned home in the Marquis of Jing'an's carriage.
"Big sister, Jin'er is so beautiful—more than Second Sister," said their third sister, Zheng Xi, chatting along the way.
Zheng Qian nodded.
Beauty comes in different forms. By her standards, the Wen siblings' looks were superior.
Zheng Yutan was beautiful too, but her slightly upturned eyes made her look fierce when upset. Not the case with the Wen siblings, whose expressions were breathtakingly beautiful, whether angry or smiling.
She and third sister chatted along the way, the third madam silent beside them. The carriage returned home.
Summer days grew hotter.
Without modern concrete and steel, the night breeze brought some relief.
Ancient ice storage existed, but not in this era—productivity hadn't advanced enough. Zheng Qian planned to make one herself someday.
That day, when she went out, Dai Mama felt unwell, Cai Yuan was busy, and Red Luan was playing wildly until dusk, leaving the windows open.
As a result, Zheng Qian's bed was full of mosquitoes that night.
She swatted many, with Cai Yuan, Xiuzhu, and Red Luan helping, but there were still plenty.
"What do you use for mosquitoes?" Zheng Qian asked.
Cai Yuan: "Mugwort. But mugwort is scarce; even if the household has it, they probably won't let us use it."
Zheng Qian: "…"
Mugwort wasn't mass-produced and was wild; indeed, it couldn't be supplied to everyone.
She knew about the Song Dynasty's "paper-bound incense," an ancient mosquito-repellent made from dried duckweed and realgar, wrapped in paper. The smell was probably unpleasant.
Zheng Qian saw the opportunity: she could produce mosquito coils in the future, sell them to Prince Ancheng, and use the money to redeem herself.