May Routine

Yingshi’s previous life was truly muddled and ignorant, oblivious to everything. Day after day, she mourned the passing seasons, focused solely on guarding her widowhood. Now, when she thinks back, she wishes she could punch herself hard for all those foolish moments. She had lived like a dog: exhausted, worried, and yet unable to remember the things that actually mattered.

Still, she had managed to do one thing right in her previous life—when the old matriarch was gravely ill, Yingshi had attended to her bedside for several days. Through this, she’d come to understand the old lady’s preferences to some extent.

The old matriarch had seen too many people in her lifetime; to put it bluntly, she could spot a fox or a cat without needing to look closely. She had always detested those who attempted to display cleverness before her. Even in the previous life, she was somewhat dismissive of Lady Wei’s way of dealing with people, feeling that Lady Wei was too fond of scheming. Instead, she preferred Lady Xiao, whose tongue was sharp but whose conduct was straightforward.

Yingshi knew she wasn't the eldest daughter-in-law, and with her husband dead, she wasn’t required to uphold the family’s prestige nor did she need the skills of a high-born matron. So, now she would simply be an open and honest young woman—neither feigning ignorance nor acting excessively shrewd; she would speak sincerely, say what needed to be said, and that would suffice.

The old matriarch liked this sort of demeanor.

Thus, upon entering and greeting the ladies, Yingshi hurriedly apologized, anxious about yesterday’s events.

“For some reason, my body failed me yesterday—I grew dizzy and fainted in the incense chamber. I was so frightened that I came early this morning to beg forgiveness from Grandmother and Mother. I hope you will pardon my fault…”

Ever since the news of Liang Ji’s disappearance arrived, this body had been fragile, drained of spirit. Clad in mourning attire, her eyelids swollen and red, she appeared frail and pitiable, without a hint of pretense.

Who could witness such a sight and not feel compassion? Who could utter a harsh word?

Even the old matriarch’s taut face gradually softened upon seeing Yingshi. Young people are sometimes impulsive; how could one speak of blame?

The old matriarch comforted her, “If you are unwell, you should rest. The Liang family is not one to mistreat its daughters-in-law. Why trouble yourself to come so early to greet me?”

Yingshi recognized the politeness in the remark and responded properly, “Thank you for your concern, Grandmother. I am feeling better today, and thought it improper to neglect courtesy, so I came early.”

Her measured words pleased the old matriarch, who nodded and called for the attendant to bring an extra seat for Yingshi. She pointed to the empty spot nearby, “Sit here, let Grandmother have a good look at you. It’s been years since I’ve seen you; Grandmother has grown old…”

Because of the marriage contract between the two households, every festival, the Duke Mu’s family held banquets, and Yingshi’s aunt often brought her to meet the old matriarch.

Yingshi had been a pretty, well-behaved child, much favored by the old lady. But as she grew older, propriety demanded she avoid frequent visits to her fiancé’s home.

Barely seated, Yingshi heard the old matriarch ask Lady Wei, “Have you had this child assisting with the funeral in the front courtyard these days? So many relatives come and go—even I can’t recall them all. Ah Ruan has only been in the family three days; how could she know anyone?”

Her tone was ambiguous—not angry but almost a veiled rebuke, as if she suspected Lady Wei of shirking her duties and leaving matters to the newcomer.

Organizing a funeral is no easy task; it demands both mental and physical effort. According to custom, after each relative’s offering, the family must return the courtesy. For the past two days, Yingshi had knelt in the memorial hall under the blazing sun, bowing to every guest. For the elderly, the rites were even more elaborate.

By the end of the day, Yingshi’s knees were raw, her back aching so much that even walking made her legs tremble.

If Yingshi hadn’t handled these duties, they would have fallen to Liang Ji’s birth mother. But with Yingshi at the forefront, Lady Wei hadn’t so much as bent her waist during the three days of mourning.

Lady Wei, hearing the subtle reproach, felt uncomfortable and hurried to defend herself, “This accusation is truly unfair. Ever since Ji left, I’ve barely held myself together, and I’ve been supervising matters up front every day. When Ah Ruan had her mishap yesterday, I was more anxious than anyone—called the family doctor, ordered medicine. The doctor said her constitution was weak to begin with, so this happened…”

Yingshi almost laughed in exasperation. Was she trying to shift blame onto her? As if she didn’t faint from exhaustion, but because her body was inherently frail?

Silently cursing, Yingshi played along, rising with a guilty look, “It’s my fault. Since Shungong passed, I haven’t been able to eat or sleep, always feeling dizzy and short of breath. Yesterday, after kneeling for so long, I stood up too quickly and fainted, making a fool of myself…”

She portrayed the suffering widow so convincingly that even the old matriarch, with her hardened heart, couldn’t help but feel remorse. She called Yingshi to sit down and glared at Lady Wei, “Ah Ruan is a good child—she even knows to speak up for you.”

Lady Wei felt blocked, clutching her handkerchief, afraid to argue further lest she dig herself deeper. Secretly, she blamed Yingshi for lacking tact—why didn’t she simply support her words and avoid provoking the old matriarch?

Yingshi and the old matriarch, meanwhile, paid no mind to Lady Wei’s feelings. Sitting closer, the old matriarch, her eyesight failing, finally took a good look at Yingshi’s face.

Yingshi was extraordinarily beautiful—radiant yet not vulgar. Crimson lips, pearly teeth, hair as glossy as satin. Even with swollen, tear-stained eyes, her features retained a delicate, youthful charm. Her almond-shaped eyes glistened with tears, the pupils clear and pure, like those of a newborn child—inviting trust and soothing the heart.

The old matriarch sighed inwardly, recalling the saying, “Girls change greatly at eighteen.” Ah Ruan truly embodied this. She remembered seeing the girl often as a child—just a fair and adorable little one. Now, she had grown into stunning beauty.

No wonder Ji had refused all the maidservants his mother sent—whenever he had leisure, he vanished. When asked, he’d say he was off riding to Chen County, to visit his fiancée.

Indeed, with such a graceful and lovely maiden in Chen County, what hot-blooded young man could resist?

The old matriarch couldn’t help but think, if that boy were still alive, how wonderful it would be—he could finally marry the one he loved. He was tall and handsome; surely their children would be beautiful…

But all was lost.

When someone is gone, everything is gone.

The old matriarch, overcome with grief, called Yingshi to her side, gently stroking her cheek, “Let me take a good look at you, for his sake—see how fine a wife he would have had.”

Yingshi wept even harder at these words, sobbing, “I shouldn’t cry before you, shouldn’t mention him to bring you sorrow, but I can’t help it—I simply can’t…”

In her previous life, she’d spoken too little and done too much.

This time, she would do nothing but cry her heart out.

The old matriarch was deeply moved, affectionately stroking Yingshi’s slender back, even personally wiping her tears.

“You are still young; you shouldn’t keep everything bottled up. If you can’t bear it, don’t force yourself—let your sorrow out, cry if you must, and you’ll feel better.”

The two seemed to bond instantly, closer than real grandmother and granddaughter, leaving Lady Wei and Lady Xiao with their own thoughts. One suspected her daughter-in-law was adept at pleasing the old matriarch, perhaps seeking to surpass her and climb higher. The other thought Ah Ruan must be clever—able to charm the old matriarch at their first meeting, leaving the other daughters-in-law sidelined.

When Yingshi’s sobs finally subsided, the old matriarch asked, “Have you been well these past few days in the mansion? Is your courtyard lacking anything?”

Yingshi knew this was merely a polite formality. The old matriarch appeared caring, but was not truly invested. If she were, she’d have sent someone to inspect Yingshi’s courtyard. It was simply meant to sound pleasant, to ease her own guilt.

Besides, the old matriarch no longer managed household affairs; everything was in the hands of Lady Wei and Lady Xiao. If Yingshi complained, she’d be publicly embarrassing the managing ladies.

This truth, Yingshi understood only after living another life.

“Everything in the Garden of Daylight is perfect; I have all I need, many attendants to care for me,” Yingshi replied.

Hearing this, the old matriarch’s guilt eased and she asked Lady Wei, “How much monthly allowance does Ah Ruan receive? How many servants?”

Lady Wei was puzzled by the sudden inquiry but answered, “According to the household rules, daughters-in-law receive twenty taels of silver each month. Two senior maids and ten attendants. I transferred all of Ji’s original servants to her courtyard, and added four more nannies—over thirty people, which should be sufficient.”

Yingshi naturally echoed, “Mother has arranged everything perfectly.”

Lady Wei felt relieved, thinking this daughter-in-law wasn’t foolish enough to oppose her outright.

The old matriarch closed her eyes. “The third branch has two shares, husband and wife, yet still barely get by. Ah Ruan is alone—she needs extra silver to rely on. Let me decide; Ji’s share will go to Ah Ruan, so she may have more to use in future.”

Lady Wei agreed, and had no reason to object. Lady Xiao, from a prominent family herself, showed no reaction—such sums were insignificant to her.

Yingshi felt a surge of joy.

No matter how many attendants Lady Wei sent to her courtyard, supposedly to serve her, they were difficult to manage, more precious than young ladies, and hardly useful. In truth, they were sent to monitor her.

But silver was different—it was hers, untouchable by anyone, to use as she pleased.

She had earned her widow’s money; it would be wasted not to spend it.

She herself had twenty taels, while Liang Ji’s monthly allowance must have been thirty or forty taels. That would be three or four hundred taels a year.

Three or four hundred taels of pure silver…

Yingshi’s mind was already busy imagining how to spend this windfall, her thoughts wandering far away.

When she finally noticed the greetings echoing around her, she looked up in surprise and saw a tall figure entering the inner chamber.

Liang Yun, leading his younger brother Liang Zhi, came before the old matriarch to pay respects. His gaze calmly swept over that tear-stained, delicate face—petal-soft, dewy like apricot blossoms.