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When Wang Xiujin returned to the Li family from the Wang household, he didn’t mention the matter of adopting a child to Li Linshan. After all, it wasn’t something imminent. Instead, he brought up the Song family’s affairs. Wang Xiujin couldn’t fathom what gave the Song family such audacity to try and seize his elder sister’s shop. Were they not afraid of the Wang family seeking retribution? Or did they assume the Wangs would simply endure it? Had they forgotten that his elder sister was not only part of the Wang family, but also the Emperor’s adopted daughter, the Empress Dowager’s beloved god-granddaughter?

“The Song family’s inner household matters aren’t difficult to resolve. If, after Mother-in-law’s visit, they still refuse to relent, all elder sister needs to do is use an upcoming palace visit to act a little spoiled with the Empress Dowager,” Li Linshan said. She wasn’t adept at handling inner household matters and couldn’t help much. But in her eyes, what counted most in these affairs were status, influence, and one’s acumen; and Miss Wang lacked neither. Even without others intervening, those schemers in the Song family were no match for her.

Wang Xiujin thought this over and agreed. Only a fool would not make use of powerful connections when they had them; and it would be equally unwise not to capitalize on advantage when it was available. Setting aside his elder sister’s issues, Wang Xiujin recalled something else, “I heard from my mother that the Fourth Prince’s consort is pregnant. Is it true? Should we send something? Food isn’t safe; it’s too easy to tamper with. Nothing sharp either. How about sending a small bed, like the one for Yachang?”

“Don’t prepare anything until the palace announces it publicly,” Li Linshan replied. She didn’t know if the rumor was true, but the gossip outside sounded convincing enough.

Wang Xiujin nodded, then glanced in the direction of their son. Suddenly, his face changed dramatically and he rushed over, calling out, “Yachang!” Seeing Wang Xiujin’s alarm, Li Linshan turned and was startled as well. Though he started after Wang Xiujin, he was faster and reached the crib first, lifting up little Yachang, whose leg was already hooked over the rail. All of Yachang’s weight was on one side of the crib, causing it to tilt. Had he moved a little more, whether he could climb over was uncertain, but the crib would likely overturn and send him tumbling to the floor.

Little Yachang, dangling in Li Linshan’s grasp, was completely unbothered, clapping his hands with a big smile, babbling away and showering his father with spit. Li Linshan’s face darkened; Wang Xiujin was equally tempted to smack the boy’s bottom.

“Spank him a couple of times to teach him a lesson, so he’ll remember not to climb the rails again,” Wang Xiujin said, though in truth he couldn’t bear to do it himself, so he suggested Li Linshan do it.

Li Linshan read the look on Wang Xiujin’s face and understood his reluctance—he himself was loath to do it as well. But if they didn’t teach the boy a lesson now and he tried it again with no one around, what then? “Are you sure he can understand?”

Wang Xiujin’s lips twitched. How could he be certain? At this age, children are endlessly curious, natural explorers eager for adventure. Climbing the crib rail was nothing; set him on the floor and forget to close the door, and he’d likely clamber over the high threshold and wander outside in search of new sights.

His expression made it clear to Li Linshan that the boy wouldn’t understand. So Li Linshan set his son down and tried to recall if he’d done such dangerous things as a child himself. Unable to bring himself to scold the boy, he decided they’d have to watch him closely. Yachang tottered over to his little father, hugging his leg and calling, “nene.”

“Your son’s hungry,” Wang Xiujin said, still rattled and determined to ignore the boy’s attempts at cuteness. With no money, all Yachang could do was act adorable, blinking his big eyes so pitifully that it was impossible to refuse him.

Li Linshan, speechless, had no choice but to send for a servant to bring a bowl of goat’s milk. Wang Xiujin ignored Yachang, but the boy clung stubbornly to his father’s leg, a little pendant impossible to shake off. Seeing Wang Xiujin struggle to move, Li Linshan picked the boy up. Yachang, waving his chubby hands, tried to throw himself at Wang Xiujin again, who retreated to the couch, taking a large gulp of tea to calm his nerves. A few more scares like this, and that little rascal would give him a heart attack.

Once again, after being set down, Yachang wobbled straight for his little father, who deliberately turned away, afraid that a single look would dissolve his resolve. He could not forgive the boy just yet; even if he couldn’t bring himself to discipline him, the boy needed to remember this. Yachang, feeling increasingly pitiful at being ignored, circled his father, following wherever he moved. Soon his eyes reddened, filled with tears that seemed ready to fall at any moment, and he started wailing. Eventually, he began to call out, “didi, didi.”

Wang Xiujin froze, staring wide-eyed at his son. “Son, what did you just say?”

“Didi,” Yachang immediately replied, his eyes shining as his father finally acknowledged him.

Wang Xiujin scooped him up, exclaiming, “Good boy, you’re so clever!” He kissed the child’s forehead, breathing in the sweet, milky scent that was so pleasant. “Call me again, son.” Having lived two lifetimes, it was the first time he’d ever been called “father,” a feeling beyond words. Nestled in his arms, Yachang happily obliged, his little legs kicking about—one moment stepping on his father’s thigh, the next on his belly. Wang Xiujin quickly set him aside, fearing the boy might tread somewhere he most definitely shouldn’t.

After playing with their son for a while, Wang Xiujin took it upon himself to correct the pronunciation—“didi” sounded too much like a ride-hailing app from his previous life. When the goat’s milk arrived, Yachang was still chanting “didi” at his little father. Wang Xiujin was left feeling rather defeated, while Li Linshan was already considering at what age to start training the boy in martial arts. After all, his son was destined to become a valiant man, fighting on the battlefield to defend his country.

That evening, Wang Xiujin decided they must celebrate properly now that their son could call him “father.” They had hot pot for dinner, while little Yachang, still only allowed to eat soft foods, could only watch as the aroma of meat wafted from the adults’ plates. Desperate, he craned his neck to peer at the table, alternately babbling “pupu” and “didi,” but neither got him any response. Poor Yachang was left feeling utterly aggrieved.

The day after the Little New Year, news arrived that Miss Wang had returned to the capital. Wang Xiujin, leaving Li Linshan to play with their son, went home to arrange with his mother a visit to the Song family the next day. He considered what to wear and which servants to bring, determined to give his elder sister the upper hand and put the Songs in their place. But before he and his mother could pay the visit, their request was met with the reply that the Song family’s young mistress had gone to the palace early to pay her respects to the Empress Dowager. Lady Wang, upon hearing this, sent her son home; she was confident her daughter could handle things.

Indeed, Wang Xiuyun had entered the palace to complain, and she did so quite directly, her face full of aggrieved innocence that tugged at the Empress Dowager’s heartstrings. For someone usually so cheerful to suddenly appear so wronged made it all the more convincing that she must have suffered greatly. The Empress Dowager, recalling the slights she herself had endured in earlier years, was incensed. Patting Wang Xiuyun’s hand, she assured her, “Don’t worry, I will see justice done for you. Anyone who dares bully my beloved granddaughter will not get away with it.”

The Song family had truly overstepped this time. The Song matron had sold off the manager of Wang Xiuyun’s shop and forced her own people into it. Even the tailors, who had been sent by the Wang family, were being pushed out; if not for the connection, they too would have been dismissed. The shop was in utter chaos, and all of Wang Xiuyun’s old clients had been driven away by the new management. The accounts were a mess, money had evaporated, and the old lady’s son had opened a competing shop, though his skills were nothing worth mentioning. In short, the shop Wang Xiuyun had painstakingly built was now on the verge of bankruptcy.

“Grandmother, it’s not the money that troubles me. My brother’s daily allowance is more than enough for me to live comfortably. But the private, intimate belongings of those noble ladies—my seamstresses and clerks are all women, but those on the other side are all men! Now that these men have taken over, how will those women ever—”

“A mere servant without even the status of an adopted son dares lord it over his master? The Song matron truly disregards both the Emperor and me.” The Empress Dowager’s face darkened. “Someone, go and smash that shop for me. And send word to the Song family’s old matron: the legitimate mistress of the Songs has passed on—feeding her is already kindness enough. If she reaches out again, don’t blame me for breaking her hand.”

With the Empress Dowager’s command, everyone in the Song family—from the old matron to the son who had just started making money—turned pale. The shop was not only smashed; somehow a fire broke out, burning it to its skeleton. Everything inside was lost. The authorities didn’t pursue the arsonist; instead, they dragged the instigator to the yamen and threw him into the worst cell, crawling with rats and reeking of mold. “Mother, is that all?” the son asked.

“What else can we do?” The Song matron looked at her disappointing son and thought, if only he were a true Song by blood.

“But the shop—”

“Shop, what shop? Get out!”

The Song family’s trouble was resolved by Wang Xiuyun with ease. Everyone who wasn’t hers was thrown out; she found her old manager and took back full control. This time, all the indentures were in her own hands.

In less than three days, Wang Xiuyun had settled everything. Sharing tea with her brother in a teahouse, she commented, “These past few days, the old matron’s face has been as black as ink, but she doesn’t dare trouble me. Every word is a plea, but I pretend not to hear. After all, she’s not even your brother-in-law’s real uncle. Were it not almost New Year, I might have taken tougher measures. If I pushed her too far, she’d probably work herself into a rage and the whole family would be unable to enjoy the holiday.”

“As long as it’s resolved. Now you need to consider carefully how to win back your clients.”

Author’s note: No extra story here.

I mean, for the new project—what would you like to read?

If this story doesn’t end soon, it’ll become an old matron’s rag—dragging on forever.