A Tale of Golden Heiress: Lady Wanjin - Chapter 4

Auntie Liu’s eyes lit up with sudden understanding, “Yes, yes! The Young Miss is truly far-sighted.”

Her praise was utterly sincere, “As expected of someone taught by her scholar grandfather—that brain of yours is clearly sharper than Wen Jing’s! Just like your mother!”

Wen Wan’s biological mother was the daughter of a scholar. Though she had passed over a decade ago, she remained the white moonlight in Old Master Wen’s heart.

As for Auntie Liu, before her now—

Wen Wan’s gaze lingered on the woman’s face for a moment.

They shared about forty to fifty percent resemblance in features.

It was clear Auntie Liu had been cast in the role of “stand-in for the domineering CEO’s white moonlight.”

Only, instead of playing the sweet, naive substitute, Auntie Liu’s version went: I may giggle demurely, but I can uproot willow trees with my bare hands; I may appear frail, but here’s a punch for you, dear brother.

Wen Wan smiled faintly, “My sister has her merits, too. Yesterday she attended to Father’s illness—fetching tea and water, handling his… waste, all without relying on servants.”

That’s what she said.

Yet Auntie Liu couldn’t shake a strange feeling.

Fetching tea… and handling waste?
Surely the wretched girl didn’t use the same container for both?

“Young Miss clearly has everything under control, so I’ll say no more. But the clan elders are pressing hard—today they sent Great Uncle to test the waters. Who’s to say they won’t force the master to adopt an heir tomorrow? What shall we do then?”

Today’s events had served as a wake-up call for Auntie Liu.

If the Wen family fell, Wen Wan and Wen Jing might escape unscathed, but she had offended too many people—her situation would be precarious.

Yet Wen Wan remained perfectly composed, “Didn’t you hear earlier? In half a month, I’ll be married.”

Both Auntie Liu and Auntie Chen’s expressions changed.

Nanny Chen immediately said, “Young Miss, surely that was just a delaying tactic to put off Eldest Uncle?”

Nanny Chen had never studied.

Yet idioms kept tumoring from her lips.

“Delay what?” Wen Wan scoffed, “Every day I remain unwed, they’ll keep coveting this house and the winery. In this world, thieves may strike any day—we can’t stay on guard forever.”

Auntie Liu’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing Wen Wan’s certainty, she recalled how Master Wen had recently forced himself to write to the Qi family about hastening the marriage arrangement despite his illness. Joy surfaced on her face, “Has there been word from your aunt?”

Wen Weiming’s elder sister, Wen Yue, had three sons.

The youngest, Qi Guili, had just turned seventeen.

The cousins had grown up together and were quite close.

Wen Wan, in particular, had always been rather fond of the third son of the Qi family.

Years ago, Wen Weiming had already begun planning—he’d discussed having the youngest Qi son marry into the Wen family with his sister and brother-in-law.

Wen Yue and Qi Lanting had agreed without hesitation.

Both families had tacitly approved the match between the two youngsters. Wen Yue had even sent Qi Guili to stay with the Wen family for half a year, hoping the cousins would grow closer.

At the time, however, Old Master Wen still held out hope for a son of his own—then Wen Wan wouldn’t have to inherit the family, and Qi Guili wouldn’t need to marry into the Wen household. With both sides hedging their bets, the marriage was never formally agreed upon in writing.

Ironically, just as Old Master Wen fell ill, Qi Guili also took to his bed.

The Qi family suddenly turned a deaf ear to the verbally agreed-upon match.

Nanny Chen patted her chest, unable to suppress her excitement, “If your aunt gives her consent, the clan elders will have no grounds to force an adoption. Everything… will be resolved!”

But Wen Wan wasn’t optimistic.

If her aunt had truly intended to honour the betrothal, Qi Guili wouldn’t have conveniently fallen ill, nor would the Qi family be avoiding the Wens like the plague.

Old Master Wen had sent four separate envoys, all were turned away at the door.

Yet, oblivious to the Qi family’s reluctance, he remained single-mindedly worried about his nephew’s health, even mustering the strength to consider visiting in person despite his own illness.

Old Master Wen… was hopelessly devoted to his sister.

“Regardless, the wedding will proceed as scheduled.” Wen Wan began issuing orders methodically, “Auntie Liu, hire two or three tailors to make me a wedding dress. The style doesn’t matter—just ensure it’s done within fifteen days.”

“Nanny Chen, mobilize the servants—repairs, cleaning, menus, seating arrangements, everything must be prepared. Thirty banquet tables. The wedding is in fifteen days.”

Auntie Liu hurriedly asked, “What about the groom’s attire? Should we send tailors to your aunt’s house for measurements? Ah, but it’s thirty miles away—a round trip would take two days! Time might be too tight!”

“No matter. Make it loose enough to fit anyone. Since he’s marrying into my family, what he wears is irrelevant.”

Auntie Liu and Nanny Chen were overjoyed.

Exactly!

Why fuss over the groom’s outfit? Once that live-in son-in-law stepped into the Wen household, wouldn’t he be entirely at the Young Miss’s mercy?

An ill-fitting wedding robe would serve as the perfect first lesson—a reminder of his place as a mere zhuxu (live-in husband).

The two women bustled off cheerfully, completely overlooking Wen Wan’s earlier “Regardless.”

Only Hongmei and Uncle Tu remained.

Uncle Tu, a man of few words, belonged to the “silent until earth-shattering” type.

Wen Wan heard him declare solemnly, “Young Miss, don’t worry. If the Qi family refuses, I’ll storm their house and drag Qi Guili back for the ceremony. This marriage will happen—willing or not.”

Hongmei, however, objected, “He has legs. He’ll run!”

Uncle Tu rested a hand on his sword hilt, “Then we break them.”

“That’s not ideal!” Hongmei frowned.

Wen Wan sighed—partly touched, partly exasperated.

Her subordinates were either incompetent, cunning, or downright simple. Not a single all-rounder among them—someone both shrewd and capable.

At least Hongmei showed promise.

The promising Hongmei straightened with righteous conviction, “We should also chain his ankles!”

Wen Wan pursed her lips, considered arguing, then gave up.

Returning to the inner courtyard, Lüping waited anxiously under the eaves, “Young Miss,” she fretted, wringing her hands, “Auntie Cui is here.”

Hongmei, ever quick-footed, darted ahead to peek inside before scurrying back with exaggerated facial contortions—eyebrows leaping, lips trembling—as she pantomimed wiping torrential tears.

This ridiculous girl.

Wen Wan ventured a guess, “Auntie Cui is crying again?”

“Worse than when the Huaxi River burst its banks,” Hongmei confirmed.

But Lüping leaned in, voice hushed, “She’s been waiting for you forever. I spotted documents in her hand, but she refused to say why—insists only you can decide. Miss… I think it’s serious.”

Wonderful.

Just as they’d rid themselves of the Rat Spirit, now came the Weeping Willow.

This Auntie Cui descended from officials who’d fallen from grace, allowing Old Master Wen to “acquire” her as a concubine. Since entering the household, her tears had never ceased—endlessly lamenting her tragic fate, her miserable marriage, her parents’ neglect.

Most absurdly, she’d once sobbed to Old Master Wen’s face about her “wretched match,” extolling the virtues of her former betrothed: so tall, so strong, so tender.

And Old Master Wen? He’d smilingly dabbed her tears away.

After sighing wistfully by the window, they’d proceeded to… commiserate further.

Truly, in certain matters, the old master was… exceptionally gifted.

Sure enough, Auntie Cui awaited her inside.

The youngest concubine, barely seven or eight years Wen Wan’s senior, stood frozen in melancholy. At twenty-five, she should’ve been in full bloom—yet this flower drooped under invisible sorrows, her red-rimmed eyes radiating fragile beauty.

The moment she spotted Wen Wan, Auntie Cui hastily dried her tears and bowed. Wen Wan waved dismissively. “Sit. Speak.”