How many things in life, joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, each follows a different path. In the depths of the courtyard in spring, romantic affairs are hidden within.
It was a bright noon during the Republic of China era, with birds joyfully playing and flying in the azure sky, creating a scene of comfort. In contrast, within the somewhat prestigious Wang residence on this land, three sticks of incense were smoldering in the family's rear Buddha hall. Below, a middle-aged woman, dressed in a mix of luxury and simplicity, knelt on a prayer cushion with her hands clasped together, her eyes closed, continuously murmuring prayers to the Guanyin Bodhisattva enshrined in the hall. Though no longer in her youth, with a few silver strands mixed in her jet-black hair, her affluent lifestyle had left only faint traces of time at the corners of her eyes. It's important to clarify that this was not the residence of a prince but the home of a wealthy landlord surnamed Wang. The local affluent Wang family, also referred to as the Wang Mansion, added a touch of regal air to the family's demeanor. At this moment, however, the Wang family lacked any semblance of regality, instead appearing somewhat somber. Madame Wang had just finished attending to her husband, Master Wang, the family patriarch, by serving him medicinal soup. The once mighty and robust Master Wang now lay in bed, his spirit wilted, even pitiable, a lonely figure stripped of his former majesty, reduced to an elderly man nearing the end of his days. Madame Wang stood up, placed the bowl on the rosewood table, sighed, and covered her man with a thin brocade quilt. Her delicate hands, accentuated by the jade bracelets, appeared even more fair and translucent. With these exquisite hands, as smooth as a baby's, she gently tucked the brocade quilt around the old man, ensuring no draft could seep in.
Seeing that the master had settled down to sleep, Madame Wang quietly retreated, gently closing the door behind her. She slightly furrowed her brows, seemingly harboring a trace of worry and a hint of resentment in her heart.
With a soft sigh, tinged with weariness, her delicate hand rested against the pillar of the eaves. Her voluptuous figure appeared even more graceful at that moment, embodying the beauty of a classical woman, a mature allure. Such a gesture stirred an impulse in one's heart to draw this exquisite creature into an embrace and shower her with affection.
Looking at such a unique scenery, the second young master Wang Ting felt both heartache and an inexplicable urge to hold this unparalleled beauty in his arms and cherish her. Anyone could, but unfortunately, he couldn't. The thought of someone else laying hands on this exquisite woman, holding her in their arms, and that someone else being him, filled him with anger. He cursed himself in his heart for entertaining such foolish thoughts, unsure whether he was more angry or more self-reproachful.
"Mother, are you alright? How is father today?" The second young master shook his head, trying to dispel these idle thoughts. But judging by his clenched fists and the forced calmness in his slow, quiet steps, it was unclear whether he succeeded, though the likelihood of failure seemed greater.
Madame Wang, the beautiful woman, turned her fair face in slight shock. The gentle breeze from her movement carried the scent of a mature woman, intoxicating the approaching second young master.
"Ah! It's Tian'er. Have you seen your grandmother? You walk so silently, you startled me." Her words carried a hint of reproach, yet they were as melodious as a nightingale's song.
"Yes, grandmother is still in the prayer hall, praying for father's health. But mother, you're mistaken. It's not my fault. You were just too deep in thought to notice me," the second young master quickly explained.
"Sigh! Tian'er, your father... he's still the same, though he seems a bit more spirited than the other day. But there's no significant improvement. Sigh!" Madame Wang sighed again, pausing for a moment. "Don't be like your father, making so many people worry over his illness, thinking he's so great, and then eating recklessly~~~~~" Madame Wang suddenly blushed and stopped her soft, red lips, realizing what she was about to say.
The second young master seemed to understand what his mother was about to say and blushed as well. Yet, seeing his mother like this, he found her unexpectedly adorable. Compared to her usual virtuous and dignified demeanor, this different side of her stirred a primal attraction in him. His mother wasn't always so unapproachable; she had moments of vulnerability, and he happened to witness one. This thought made him inexplicably happy, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up.
"What are you smiling about?"
"I just never saw such an amusing side of you before, so..."
"Then I'm usually not fun, am I? I'm just an old woman," Wang Furen said, her long-hidden grievances suddenly finding an outlet as she continued lamenting, "Ah! Beauty fades so quickly. Men are all about forgetting themselves in their pride, thinking the grass is greener on the other side, not realizing that wild flowers can be poisonous too. They just want to fool around outside, and when something happens, it's the women at home who worry for them. An old wife loses her novelty and turns into a nanny, just a sight for sore eyes~~~~."
"Mother—" Er Shao looked at the woman before him, who called herself a nanny and was lost in self-pity, more like a young girl throwing a tantrum. The more Wang Furen spoke, the further she strayed from the point, and the angrier she became, making Er Shao increasingly anxious. It was midday, and the Wang family servants were resting, but if by chance some careless servant overheard and spread rumors outside, causing gossip, it would be troublesome. So he raised his voice to stop her.
Wang Furen was also startled awake by her son's loud shout and was somewhat dazed. Er Shao looked at his mother and said softly, "Mother, you can find a place with no one around to say these things. I can listen to you properly, and you can vent some of that pent-up anger. It's not good to keep it bottled up; it can harm your health, leading to accumulated resentment. I know father had some... uh, some minor faults, but that's all in the past. I will, um, that that..." That, that won't come back, Er Shao seemed to stammer, unable to articulate his thoughts clearly. His 'stammering' only seemed to amuse Wang Furen more.
"What's that, that that, that that how?" Wang Furen, feeling this way and seeing Er Shao like this, in this scene of conversation, suddenly felt as if time had reversed, and her son had returned to the time when he was three or four years old, babbling as he learned to speak, his chubby little face especially adorable. A maternal instinct made her want to tease him, to get an answer out of him.
"I will take good care of you in father's stead, and make up for all the grievances you've suffered, to make you happy every day."
"You brat, what are you talking about? What grievances do I have to suffer? Don't talk nonsense. If you'd just let me hold a grandson sooner, I'd be very happy."
"Am I still that young?"
"You're about the same age as Gao Xian, and he's been married for over half a year? Soon the Gao family will be flourishing with descendants."
Er Shao gave a bitter laugh upon hearing this: "Mother, um, Gao Laoye has passed away. We just received the obituary."
"Again with that, again with that thing, what's it called, Master Gao he~~" Mrs. Wang's somewhat "lazy" demeanor suddenly changed, her almond-shaped eyes widening, her voice noticeably rising several pitches. The slight rosy hue of her complexion instantly darkened as she muttered in a resentful tone, "This old fool, why doesn't he die when others do, sigh! How am I supposed to explain this to Sister Li."
Seeing his slightly angry mother, the second young master rubbed his nose. He didn't say anything, thinking to himself how beautiful his mother looked even when she was angry. The ancients said, "A beauty's slight anger," and indeed, they weren't lying. Eh, what am I thinking~~ As for my father, he's really something, causing trouble himself and dragging others into the underworld with him. Wait, that's not right! It's more like 'I didn't kill the man, but the man died because of me,' or perhaps the saying 'lust is a knife hanging over one's head' is most appropriate for my father and Master Gao.