She couldn't refuse. She could only agree.
The woman knew all too well that she couldn't afford the price of refusing.
Ever since that day, she had felt the attitude of this distant aunt of hers toward her change. In front of Qiu Cheng, she remained virtuous, magnanimous, and perceptive, but she had started calling the woman the deeply sarcastic "little sister." Even Qiu Cheng's subordinates knew about it.
Besides "the lord's strategist," the labels attached to her now included "the lord's woman" and "the lord's concubine." Even her reasonable advice was now suspected of being "pillow talk," and whenever people looked at her, their eyes carried a hint of scrutiny, contempt, and doubt.
Her colleagues didn't want to spend much time with her or talk to her.
Because she was the lord's woman.
No matter how beautifully she handled things, people still doubted her.
Because she was the lord's woman.
They put on a show of respect in public, then rolled their eyes behind her back.
She had heard her colleagues complain in private.
[It doesn't matter how the lord spoils his concubines in private, but how can he entrust her with this kind of important business...]
[Alas, since ancient times, even heroes have found it hard to resist a beautiful woman...]
They were all "the lord's women," but they showed particular respect toward Qiu Cheng's first wife. There was no hint of disrespect in their words or actions, and they repeatedly praised her as virtuous and courageous, because she had dared to follow Qiu Cheng onto the battlefield. While Qiu Cheng fought at the front, she managed the rear.
She spared no effort, leading people in making dry rations for the soldiers.
Whenever a soldier was wounded, she immediately arranged for a physician.
In everyone's eyes, she was