The Prime Minister Knows How to Handle Her Wife (ABO, GL) - Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Meng Xiaosi, who claimed she wanted to strive hard, indeed lived up to everyone’s expectations. She worked diligently for a few days but soon grew listless. To avoid the afternoon classes, she ran straight to Sheng Shiyue’s mansion and wailed loudly.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to try hard,” she complained. “When I rode on horseback, I only thought about how much silver I could earn if I sold the horse at the border. When my mother taught me spear techniques, I practiced all day but only remembered how much that red-tasseled spear was worth.”

“My sister talked to me about military strategies,” she continued. “I asked her if we followed this route for trade, wouldn’t we save a third of the journey and reduce a lot of unnecessary losses?”

“I’m just a money-grubbing spirit reincarnated,” she exclaimed. “What can I do about it?!”

Meng Qingxin wailed on one side, while Sheng Shiyue covered her ears on the other.

After several days of recovery, Sheng Shiyue’s injuries had improved significantly. At least, she no longer winced in pain with every slight movement, tears welling up in her eyes. She could now walk a few steps on the ground.

Even so, she couldn’t sit for long and still had to lie down. Right now, for instance, she lay on a bamboo rocking chair, swaying creakily back and forth.

“Why doesn’t my mother understand?” Meng Qingxin grumbled. “She even said that when I grabbed the golden horse during my first-year ceremony, I was destined to become a great cavalry general in the future.”

Meng Qingxin sneered coldly, enunciating each word: “Did I have a choice? She only put out a long sword, a red-tasseled spear, a sand table, and a golden horse. Whichever I picked, wouldn’t it mean joining the military? I chose the golden horse because it looked the most valuable.”

“Alright, alright,” Sheng Shiyue interrupted, unable to listen anymore. She waved her hand and said, “I didn’t ask you to study. You were the one who overthought everything, then knelt before your mother, shouting about wanting to start anew. What could I do?”

Meng Qingxin slumped on the wooden chair in the corridor, letting out a mournful wail.

She hated herself for her impulsive moment, saying such nonsense.

Sheng Shiyue grabbed a piece of pastry and threw it at her, scolding, “Didn’t I tell you? Once I’m enfeoffed as a king and sent to my fief, you can come with me. Then, you can do whatever business you want, and I’ll back you up.”

At those words, Meng Qingxin lifted her head, giving Sheng Shiyue a resentful glance before sighing again.

If only it were that easy.

The Meng family’s situation was unique. The head of the Meng family had only four daughters. The first three were Kunze, and only Meng Qingxin was Qianyuan.

The first three had been outstanding since childhood, excelling in military strategy and archery. Before their differentiation, every family praised the Meng family for having worthy successors. But fate played a cruel trick—only the most useless Meng Qingxin differentiated as Qianyuan.

In an ordinary family, they would naturally focus on cultivating the more capable ones. After all, since a Kunze ascended the throne as emperor in the previous dynasty, the status of Kunze had risen steadily. From being confined to the inner courtyard, they were allowed to engage in commerce and serve as officials. In every trade and profession, Kunze displayed exceptional abilities and methods.

In the early days of the Liang Kingdom, they even considered including Kunze in the line of succession. However, the ten-month pregnancy period was deemed too risky, and the imperial heir couldn’t be just one person. If an accident occurred or the heir proved inept, wouldn’t it shake the foundation of the state?

Moreover, the Kunze emperor of the previous dynasty fell ill during pregnancy, becoming frail and unable to manage the court. This allowed powerful ministers to divide the imperial authority, sowing the seeds for the dynasty’s eventual collapse.

Thus, Kunze were excluded from imperial succession, and most families prioritized Qianyuan as heirs.

But if the Qianyuan proved incompetent while the Kunze excelled, families would choose the more capable individual. After all, the prosperity and continuity of the family were paramount.

That said, the Meng family wasn’t an ordinary family. They were descended from military generals, and the physical frailty of Kunze was well-known. Serving as a civil official posed no issue, but being a military general was challenging, especially with the three-month rain period. Most soldiers in the camps were Qianyuan, and if something unexpected happened…

Moreover, when most families chose a Kunze as heir, they required the Kunze to remain childless for life and adopt a child from a collateral branch to avoid complications.

The head of the Meng family loved her children dearly and couldn’t bear to treat them this way. So, she hesitated until now, urging Meng Qingxin to practice martial arts and study while keeping her three daughters by her side, constantly instructing them.

Meng Qingxin, exasperated, grabbed a handful of fish food and tossed it aside, causing colorful koi to surface eagerly.

Sheng Shiyue saw this and immediately scolded, “Don’t throw things carelessly! You’ll dirty my pond.”

The water in her pond came entirely from a mountain spring, clear and pristine. She was careful not to overfeed the fish, fearing uneaten food would stick to the stone walls and affect the water quality. Servants regularly cleaned out fallen leaves and debris, especially since this ancestor often jumped into the pond impulsively, requiring extra caution.

Meng Xiaosi, feeling irritated, gave Sheng Shiyue a resentful glance and said deliberately, “Where’s your Prime Minister?”

“Who’s like you, wandering into the palace yesterday with nothing to do?” Sheng Shiyue retorted sharply.

Hearing this, Meng Xiaosi’s eyes widened, sensing something unusual. Before, didn’t Sheng Shiyue strongly resist this marriage, bristling at the mention of Ning Qingge? Why did she seem to show a hint of favoritism today?

Her gossiping curiosity suppressed her resentment, and she probed, “Do you know what your Madam has been up to these past few days?”

“What?” Sheng Shiyue, unaware of anything amiss, asked directly.

“She’s been quite busy,” Meng Xiaosi said. “The matter with the Eighth Princess was almost suppressed, but now someone suddenly appeared, accusing the Eighth Princess of embezzling profits during a military campaign. Your Prime Minister stepped forward, saying she’d investigate the matter thoroughly.”

This happened recently, and since Meng Qingxin was making a fuss about striving harder, the Meng family used it as a case study, explaining it in detail. So, she knew it well.

She gloated, “Now the Eighth Princess’s faction is in chaos, forced to clean up their tracks. Who knows how much they’ll lose this time?”

Sheng Shiyue raised an eyebrow and said only, “She deserves it.”

Meng Qingxin glanced at her, muttering to herself how such a big deal didn’t even hook Sheng Shiyue. Could she have known already?

She changed tack and probed again, “Does Yicui Tower have anything to do with your Madam? That day, we were figuring out how to distance ourselves, and that courtesan… the current owner of Yicui Tower, Huanyan, is she your Madam’s person?”

Xu Zhengming hadn’t falsely accused anyone. How could a group of wastrels swallow such an insult? That same day, they planned their revenge. The next day, upon hearing Xu Zhengming left his mansion, they rushed over, ambushed him with a sack, and beat him up before heading to Yicui Tower to drink.

They didn’t bother hiding it. After all, Xu Zhengming’s provocation was just two days prior. Anyone with half a brain could guess it was them.

Since Xu Zhengming was at fault first and lacked solid evidence, it was just suspicion at best. At worst, they’d get a beating from their families, and their elders would smooth things over.

But unexpectedly, Yicui Tower fabricated false evidence, claiming they entered the tower half an hour earlier, giving them an alibi.

Though there were still outside speculations, they had taken a quiet alley as a shortcut and entered Yicui Tower through the back door for convenience. Most guests inside were drunk, so Yicui Tower’s word was taken as truth. The wastrels, not wanting trouble, naturally backed the tower’s story.

At this, Sheng Shiyue paused before saying vaguely, “Seems like it.”

Ning Qingge hadn’t told her directly, but given the events before and today, there must be a connection. Otherwise, Huanyan wouldn’t have gone to such lengths.

Seeing Sheng Shiyue wouldn’t take the bait, Meng Qingxin gave up helplessly but then remembered something and said quickly, “Oh, right! When we were staking out Xu Zhengming, we saw him sneaking off with someone.”

She rubbed her chin and said, “This person said she was connected to those painting sellers. Xu Zhengming’s group used her to threaten others, forcing them to help him cheat. We worried she’d blab outside, so we brought her along.”

Sheng Shiyue showed no surprise, having already suspected something.

After all, the Thousand Gates had eight roles, each with specific tasks, working together to deceive and swindle. She had noticed something off about those two. They didn’t seem in charge and occasionally showed tense, suppressed hatred at Xu Zhengming’s hushed words, clearly coerced.

But she didn’t point it out. She wasn’t some bleeding-heart do-gooder. People who lived by deception should be prepared to get caught eventually, just like her masters. No matter how skilled, they still fell into her aunt’s hands.

Some were luckier and escaped unscathed. Others, less fortunate, lost limbs or barely kept their lives.

She rubbed her chin, thinking…

Running into Meng Qingxin and the others—wasn’t that luck in itself? Since she had ties to the Thousand Gates, she should lend a hand.

“Where are they now?” she asked.

Meng Qingxin, annoyed by the hassle, thought hiding them anywhere was inconvenient. Unlike Sheng Shiyue, who had her own mansion and no elders to deal with, she said eagerly, “At Xiao Jing’s place. Should she bring them to you?”

Xiao Jing had been in the corridor earlier but left to fetch something after Sheng Shiyue mentioned the fake painting.

Speaking of the fake painting, after the polo match, Sheng Shiyue, for some reason, claimed it along with her wager. Everyone thought she was mocking Xu Zhengming and didn’t think much of it, even joining in with a few taunts.

Only just now, when Sheng Shiyue suddenly brought it up and asked the two about it, did they sense something off. But Sheng Shiyue wasn’t sure yet and didn’t say much, only asking Xiao Jing to retrieve it.

At this point, Meng Qingxin, worried Xiao Jing was about to return, sent a servant to inform her.

The breeze swept through the corridor, rustling the bamboo leaves.

Sheng Shiyue lay on the rocking chair, swaying drowsily, nearly falling asleep before Xiao Jing arrived.

The moment Xiao Jing poked her head in, she started grumbling, “I was already at the gate, and I had to turn back again. The horses pulling the cart are practically foaming at the mouth.”

This was an exaggeration, but the guilty Meng Qingxin still walked up cheerfully, holding a fruit tray, and said eagerly, “Miss Xiao, you’ve worked hard. Sit down and try the grapes freshly picked from Her Highness’s mansion.”

Sheng Shiyue, feeling sleepy, lazily lifted her eyes and complained, “Why so slow?”

Xiao Jing rolled her eyes, tossed the painting scroll onto the table, and said irritably, “Your lousy painting.”

Then she turned to look behind her, adding, “The person you wanted.”

Sheng Shiyue shifted her gaze to the back, pausing in surprise before asking, “This is one person?”

Or had she, in broad daylight, mistaken one person for seven or eight, all looking different in age and appearance?

Xiao Jing popped a grape into her mouth, pointed at the person in the middle, and explained helplessly, “This is the one we picked up. The rest seem to be her followers.”

Meng Qingxin, even more confused, said, “What’s going on? Have you been so idle these days that you took a swindler leader and raided a swindler’s den?”

At those words, the group bristled, glaring angrily at Meng Qingxin as if she’d said something deeply insulting.

A seven- or eight-year-old girl shouted in rebuttal, “We’re not swindlers!”

Meng Qingxin laughed instead of getting angry, mocking, “Not swindlers? What, are you heroes robbing the rich to help the poor?”

“We are…” Before she could finish, others covered her mouth, watching them warily.

Xiao Jing then added, “I don’t have that kind of free time. This group pretended to be my servants to rescue her, but they barely made it a few steps before my steward caught them. If I hadn’t returned home by chance, they’d already be in the authorities’ hands.”

She rubbed her temples, clearly exasperated by the trouble. If she weren’t worried they’d slip up in custody and lead the Xu family to her, she wouldn’t bother with them.

Though a Qianyuan, Xiao Jing had a refined appearance with captivating fox-like eyes. Her current demeanor gave off a delicate, willow-like charm. Anyone else would’ve rushed to comfort her.

But Sheng Shiyue said, “With so many people, no wonder the horses were foaming.”

With everyone grumbling, she felt sorry for the animals first.

Xiao Jing, fuming, crossed her arms and said, “Anyway, I brought them to your mansion. I’m not taking them back. Deal with it.”

Squeezing out her last bit of conscience, she added, “This lot is tough to handle. They won’t say anything, each one more stubborn than the last.”

Sheng Shiyue repeated, “Stubborn?”

The group, as if to prove Xiao Jing’s point, pursed their lips, adopting a defiant, unyielding stance.

Sheng Shiyue, already annoyed by the hassle, saw this as a chance to save trouble. She waved her hand and said, “Take them away and lock them up for a few days.”

She wasn’t some warm-hearted fool. She only thought of her Thousand Gates masters and offered a hand to their associates. If these people didn’t appreciate it, she wouldn’t bother.

The group froze, likely assuming Sheng Shiyue needed them and planned to negotiate. They didn’t expect to be locked up right after showing up. Panicking, they tried to speak, but servants quickly covered their mouths and dragged them away.

Meanwhile, Sheng Shiyue lowered her head, focusing intently on the unrolled fake painting.

Meng Qingxin, the main target of the scam, first laughed gleefully, then tilted her head to look at Sheng Shiyue, asking curiously, “Isn’t this just a fake painting? Why are you interested in it?”

Xiao Jing looked over, equally puzzled.

Sheng Shiyue ignored them, frowning as she continued to examine it.

Since her brief glance last time, she’d felt something was off. Now, spread out on the table and studied closely, it seemed even stranger.

Historically, identifying true or fake paintings relied on a few points.

First was the artist’s style, brushwork, ink traces, the era and context of creation, and whether it was recorded in catalogs. This was complex, with vast information to memorize, making it the hardest to master.

But faking it was simpler. By having someone copy the original repeatedly, they could capture some of its essence.

Second was the paper or silk and mounting. Each dynasty had distinct paper, silk, and mounting styles.

For instance, the Liang Kingdom’s papermaking, improved over the previous dynasty, produced softer, whiter paper. The prior dynasty favored a type called sutra paper for paintings, and most surviving works used it.

Mounting was even clearer. As the saying went, three parts painting, seven parts mounting. To preserve and display, artists who created highly satisfactory works would spend heavily to have master craftsmen mount them. For fakes, even using cheap wood for the scroll rod felt wasteful, so why bother with elaborate mounting?

Third was the seals, which had even more intricacies.

Scholars loved seals, first as tokens of authenticity, then to enhance the work’s aesthetics, balance composition, and prevent forgery.

Thus, painters used numerous seals—name seals, preface seals, waist seals—with varied inscriptions. One painter from the previous dynasty reportedly had a hundred seals, tormenting later scholars who had to memorize them.

But seals could be replicated, often more easily than other methods. So, some devised a trick: deliberately damaging a seal to create unique cracks, making it nearly impossible to copy perfectly.

Yet this fake painting was bizarre. The simplest part—brushwork—was clumsily done, turning bold, vigorous strokes into soft, lacking the grandeur and dignity of Fan Zicheng’s style.

But the hardest part—the seal—was replicated perfectly. Even Sheng Shiyue, who’d seen the original, could barely spot flaws. Not to mention the scroll rod made of rare yellow pear wood.

A master forger would probably scratch their head, calling it utterly backwards.

Strange, very strange.

Sheng Shiyue stared at the painting, as if the forger was deliberately shouting to everyone, “This is a fake!”

What was he hiding? What did he want to do?

A breeze rippled the lake, the water curtain swaying briefly before settling.

She suddenly spoke, “Find a skilled mounting craftsman.”

“Huh?” The two beside her, frowning in thought, asked quickly, “Did you figure out the painting’s issue?”

Sheng Shiyue nodded slightly but didn’t elaborate, saying only, “Let’s take it apart first.”

A servant hurried out of the mansion, and soon a craftsman arrived. Sheng Shiyue whispered a few words to him, and he nodded gravely, taking the painting and closing the door. Moments later, the sound of tools clinking rang out.

The three waited in the courtyard pavilion, an afternoon passing until the red sun dipped halfway, casting Bianjing in an orange glow. Everything grew serene, any sound seeming loud.

Finally, a creak of a wooden scroll rod sounded. The three looked up as the craftsman approached, holding two ink-stained pages.

He stood and said, “As Your Highness suspected, something was indeed hidden inside.”

He laid the pages flat on the stone table.

Meng Qingxin and Xiao Jing leaned in, exclaiming in unison, “A painting within a painting?!”

Looking at the craftsman’s paintings, they were identical landscapes, but comparing them revealed stark differences. The first was stiff and lifeless; the second, vibrant and majestic, as if placing the viewer among mountains, gazing at vast rivers.

Sheng Shiyue nodded and explained, “I once read a miscellaneous note about collectors who, after acquiring masterpieces, lived in constant fear of theft. So, they had a fake painted, hiding the original within it.”

She smiled and added, “They thought it foolproof, even hiding it from their descendants. But some heirs mistook it for a fake, discarding it, only for it to end up with Thousand Gates swindlers as a prop.”

Meng Qingxin, who’d paid dearly for the painting and tried to return it, found it unbelievable that it turned out to be real. She was filled with questions.

Pointing at the fake’s seal, she said, “If it’s a fake, why is the seal identical? And if he meant to forge it, why leave such an obvious flaw?”

She’d been seven parts convinced it was real because of the seal, ignoring the faint ink traces under dim candlelight.

The craftsman answered the first question, having heard of this from his master but seeing it for the first time. He said in awe, “No wonder Miss Meng mistook it. This seal can be called genuine.”

“Huh?” Meng Qingxin looked puzzled.

The craftsman explained, “The seal was lifted from the original painting.”

Everyone suddenly understood.

Among forgeries, a technique called “peeling” was the hardest to detect. Some even called peeled paintings authentic.

It was known that rice paper had multiple layers, each absorbing ink. Skilled artisans exploited this, peeling the paper into several layers, turning one painting into two, three, or even ten.

But the more layers peeled, the fainter the ink, making it easier to spot. Peeling two layers was best, with slight touch-ups at faded spots to nearly match the original.

Somehow, this collector, with unknown motives, took only the seal, placing it on the fake to blend true and false.

“Maybe the collector worried their heirs wouldn’t recognize the real painting, so they left an obvious flaw as a hint?” Xiao Jing guessed.

“Then why not just tell them?” Meng Qingxin couldn’t fathom it.

Every theory made sense, but the truth remained elusive, leaving them to speculate.

Later, a servant led the craftsman away, but Sheng Shiyue clapped her hands, an idea forming, and laughed, “What if they knew this was the real painting? Wouldn’t they be furious enough to spit bl00d?”

Their eyes lit up, the joy of finding the real painting paling compared to this.

Meng Qingxin burst out laughing, “I was just thinking it wasn’t satisfying enough!”

Xiao Jing, stifling a laugh, pictured the scene. Xu Zhiming, already in pain, would likely feel his heart twist, unable to eat for days.

But Sheng Shiyue was thinking of someone else. They didn’t know the mastermind, but she did.

She had no interest in the throne, so she avoided the Sixth and Eighth Princesses when possible. But they’d targeted her, setting an elaborate trap to drag her in.

Sheng Shiyue curved her lips, her smile not reaching her eyes.

Eighth Sister, I wonder if you’ll enjoy this little appetizer.

“Alright, listen to me first,” Sheng Shiyue snapped back, calling out.

With this unexpected gain, they had to maximize its impact.

Meng Qingxin and Xiao Jing leaned in to listen.

But a servant walked in, saying to Sheng Shiyue, “Your Highness, Madam is back.”

The one lying down jumped up, abandoning Meng Qingxin and Xiao Jing, hobbling awkwardly toward the entrance.

The change was so swift that Meng Qingxin and Xiao Jing barely reacted before a purple-robed figure passed through the moon gate, taking Sheng Shiyue’s hand and saying gently, “Didn’t I tell you to rest properly? Why are you walking over?”

Meng Qingxin nearly answered for her. Before Ning Qingge arrived, Sheng Shiyue hadn’t touched the ground, carried around by servants on a stretcher.

Sheng Shiyue huffed, refusing to admit the truth, saying only, “I was tired of lying down, so I walked around.”

The implication was she wasn’t there to greet Ning Qingge, just strolling and happening to end up there.

Meng Qingxin, behind her, pursed her lips. No wonder Sheng Shiyue didn’t react to her earlier probing. She’d already had servants call Ning Qingge “Madam,” rushing over the moment she returned.

Ning Qingge didn’t call her out, smiling and saying, “Alright.” She glanced behind Sheng Shiyue and asked, “Are your friends here? Should I have the kitchen prepare extra dishes for dinner?”

Sheng Shiyue waved it off, saying, “They’re leaving soon. Next time.”

Meng Qingxin and Xiao Jing, eagerly awaiting her plan: …

Seeing their lack of cooperation, Sheng Shiyue turned and glared.

The two stepped forward, starting to say, “Prime…”

“Cough,” Sheng Shiyue interrupted, looking at them.

Meng Qingxin smoothly corrected, “Sister-in-law, we have matters at home, so we won’t stay this time.”

“Farewell, Sister-in-law,” Xiao Jing said with a fist salute, deliberately deepening her voice to mimic a bold江湖 hero.

Sheng Shiyue, still straight-faced, couldn’t hide the upturned corners of her mouth, waving grandly like a boss, saying, “Then hurry back.”

Ning Qingge, seeing through it all but not exposing her, softened her expression, indulgent as if watching her child play, letting her have her fun.

Xiao Jing and Meng Qingxin, both exasperated and amused, walked away, faintly hearing voices behind them. The one just acting tough now spoke in a cloyingly sweet tone.

Meng Qingxin glanced back, seeing purple robes and a green skirt close together, their hems overlapping. Beyond the moon gate, bamboo leaned as if to shield them, but it was futile.

She shuddered, unable to hold it in. So this was Sheng Jiu after marriage.

Weird, disgustingly weird.