A Tale of Golden Heiress: Lady Wanjin - Chapter 6

With a thud, Auntie Cui dropped to her knees before Wen Wan, kowtowing with genuine remorse as tears streamed down her face, “Eldest Miss, I’ve wronged you—wronged the entire Wen family.”

Wen Wan helped her up. “The only way you’d wrong me or this family is by living miserably.”

Sniffling, Auntie Cui presented the self-written release letter.

Wen Wan pressed Old Master Wen’s seal onto the document.

Final. Binding.

Auntie Cui was no longer part of the Wen household.

Soon, Auntie Liu—who had been on her way to kidnap embroiderers and tailors for Wen Wan’s fictitious wedding—was dragged in by Hongmei.

Busy orchestrating the non-existent matrimony, Auntie Liu froze upon entering: there was Auntie Cui, sobbing violently in Wen Wan’s arms. She immediately wedged herself between them, shielding Wen Wan with a glare.

“What’s with the waterworks? I didn’t provoke you this time! Don’t think you can win Eldest Miss over with tears—she’s nothing like the master, falling for your snivelling tricks!”

Wen Wan’s eyebrow twitched.

Auntie Liu, your self-incriminating outbursts aren’t helping.

She intervened, “Auntie Liu, I’ve approved Auntie Cui’s release. She’ll leave the Wen family to seek her own path. Withdraw some silver from the accounts and arrange a sturdy maidservant to escort her out of Ping County.”

“Release letter?” Auntie Liu’s voice cracked like a broken gong, joy unmistakable, “You’re leaving?”

Hongmei and Lu Ping exchanged glances.

Auntie Liu, your delight is painfully transparent.

So, you’ve been waiting for this day, huh?

Realizing her slip, Auntie Liu hastily contorted her face into a semblance of sorrow—though the upward tug of her lips betrayed her. The result was a visibly fractured expression.

“Oh… you’re leaving?” She fluttered her handkerchief, mustering a tone of rehearsed grief, “Where will you go, Sister Cui? This is your home—why depart?”

Go, go! Once you’re gone, no one will compete for the master’s attention!

Wen Wan resisted the urge to facepalm.

Auntie Cui, however, flushed with guilt, “I—I have a cousin in Bozhou who’s offered me shelter. I… I…”

She couldn’t finish.

Auntie Liu’s face stiffened momentarily, a flicker of anguish crossing her eyes—but it vanished as she beamed, “Marvelous! I’ve always dreamed of having the master all to myself. Today, the heavens grant my wish! Come, let’s get your silver. Need help packing? Leaving tomorrow? We’ve much to prepare—”

“All to myself?”

Wen Wan didn’t have the heart to remind her that Old Master Wen was dying—hardly a romantic prospect.

The real urgency? Figuring out how to protect her fortune in this godforsaken feudal system.

Wen Wan plunged back into the sea of legal documents; scrolls scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. The oil lamp on her desk flickered weakly, its dying light casting shadows over her bloodshot eyes.

“When both husband and wife perish, the inheritance shall pass to an adopted son for three-quarters, and to daughters for one-quarter.”

“For households without male heirs, all properties—shops, livestock, and assets—after funeral expenses, shall be divided into three parts. Unmarried daughters may inherit one-third.”

“Lands confiscated by the state shall be managed by the Ever-Normal Granary, prohibiting private tenancy.”

Page after page of legal texts screamed the same message in her face:

Robbery!
Legalized robbery!

At best, she could retain one-third of the family fortune. The rest would be devoured by those toad-faced, rat-eyed clan elders and their overbearing sons—

And that was the optimistic scenario.

If the clan united against her, even that pitiful one-third could be snatched away.

So much for “the emperor’s rule stops at the village gate.” Once in court, those clan vipers could twist the law into worthless scrap paper.

Worse—the elders could marry her off on her father’s behalf. To some half-dead fossil. Or a drooling imbecile.

Wen Wan’s spine hit the chairback with a thud. She tilted her head up, eyes shut, exhaling a breath that carried the weight of centuries.

A son-in-law.
She needed a son-in-law.

There was no other way out.

Irony tasted bitter on her tongue—in her past life, she’d dodged matchmaking aunties. Now, survival hinged on hunting a husband.

But this wasn’t modern China’s lighthearted “when will you marry?” nagging. This was feudal-era matchmaking with teeth—

A fight for her very right to exist.

In this era, not marrying could literally be a death sentence.

Wen Wan knew she lacked the power to change the system. For now, her only option was to ride the current.

A man—

Dear heavens, send me a man!

She screamed internally.

No standards!
Just a functioning male—equipped and operational!

“Miss, you should rest. Your eyes will ache.”

Lu Ping refilled the oil lamp and draped a light robe over Wen Wan’s shoulders. Though summer nights were warm, the air carried a creeping chill.

As she gathered the scattered texts, Lu Ping’s heart ached at the sight of Wen Wan propping her cheek on one hand, face shadowed with worry. Unlike Hongmei’s sharp competence, she could only fret helplessly.

“Don’t fear, Miss. If the worst comes—I’ll take in sewing, laundry, anything to feed you! Or haul cargo at the docks! You’ll never starve!”

Wen Wan turned. The image of slender, willow-like Lu Ping straining under sacks of rice struck her as absurd. A laugh burst out, “Oh, Lüping—no.” She pinched the maid’s flushed cheeks. “We’re not there yet.”

Lüping ducked her head, “Forgive my foolish words. I’m no comfort.”

“Nonsense. Having you, Hongmei, Auntie Liu, Nanny Chen… I’m luckier than most.”

Lu Ping nodded, only half-comprehending.

“Is Auntie Cui prepared for departure?”

“Yes. She bid the master farewell this afternoon—though he was too feverish to respond. She wept alone in his chamber for an hour.”

“Hm.” Wen Wan’s expression remained neutral, “Better she leaves. If the Wen ship sinks, every life spared counts.”

Every life spared?

Lu Ping caught the flicker in her mistress’s eyes—the taut brow suddenly smoothing.

Wen Wan’s gaze sharpened with revelation, “Lu Ping. Fetch Auntie Liu.”

The estate slept, save for Wen Wan’s glowing window.

Since Wen Weiming’s collapse, the sixteen-year-old had shouldered the household’s fate, her lamp often burning till dawn.

Auntie Liu was soothing Wen Jing to sleep when Lu Ping arrived. In a house with a dying patriarch, nighttime summons meant terror. Heart pounding, Auntie Liu threw on a robe and ran.