Chapter 201
The morning mist still lingered when an understated yet luxurious carriage rolled down the muddy country path. The curtain lifted slightly, revealing the elegant profile of Margaret Johnson, the matriarch of the Johnson family.
"Madam, we're approaching Stone Village," the coachman murmured.
Margaret tapped the windowsill lightly, her gaze sweeping over the dilapidated thatched cottages in the distance. She had deliberately dressed plainly today, wearing only a white jade hairpin, yet her noble bearing remained unmistakable.
Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, washerwomen gasped and dropped their wooden basins. Never had they seen such refined elegance. Their floral skirts splattered with mud, they craned their necks to gawk.
"Madam—" The village chief stumbled forward, knees buckling as if to kneel.
Margaret raised a hand to stop him. "No need for formalities." Her calm voice sent a chill down his spine. "I heard there's a Miss Stone in your village..."
Meanwhile, in the Stone family courtyard, Emily was tiptoeing to hang freshly gathered herbs when a commotion outside drew her attention. Turning, she saw a gilded carriage parked beyond the fence. Sunlight glinted off the jade bells hanging from its eaves, their tinkling startling the sparrows perched nearby.
"Young lady." Margaret stood three paces away, her emerald bracelet catching the morning light. "Might we speak privately?"
Emily's fingers still carried the scent of herbs. She wiped them absently on her apron, recognizing the bracelet—identical to the one the Johnson heiress had worn at the flower-viewing banquet three days prior.
A clay pot shattered in the kitchen. Mary Stone rushed out, pale-faced, shielding her daughter. "M-Madam..."
Margaret's eyes suddenly welled with tears. Trembling, she drew half a mutton-fat jade pendant from her sleeve. In the sunlight, the engraved characters "Bright Moon" were clearly visible.
"Eighteen years..." The noblewoman's voice broke. "My Bright Moon..."
"Why isn't the old man back yet?" Mary Stone glanced at the darkening sky, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Mother, here." Emily Johnson handed her a basket. "I ran into a peddler at the market today and bought some nice things."
Mary took the basket, her arm dipping under its weight. "Goodness, this is heavy!"
Lifting the cloth cover, she found it packed full.
"David, Tommy..." John Stone Sr. had just stepped inside when he spotted his grandsons circling the basket while his wife held the heavy load.
"Why so much?"
"It's for you both." Emily pulled out a liquor bottle. "Father, I heard this is good quality. Try it. If you like it, I'll bring more next time."
Liquor?
John had three sons, yet none had ever bought him alcohol. Now his daughter-in-law remembered.
"Then I'll savor it properly." He rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming.
"Mother, please put these away," Emily said softly.
Mary inventoried the contents: sponge cake, sugar, oil, noodles, liquor... and the meat her youngest son had sent days earlier.
These gifts were far too generous.
"Stay for lunch," Mary sighed.
"Of course."
Only after John happily carried his liquor bottle to the main room did Mary take the basket to the kitchen.
Lunch was unusually lavish: golden crispy pancakes, savory preserved pork pies, silky steamed egg custard...
Returning from the old house, Emily settled the children for their nap before retreating to her room with a telegram clutched in hand.
What was coming would come. She took a deep breath and gazed out the window.
Margaret Johnson disembarked the train, transferred to a bus to the county seat, then hitched a ride to town as dusk fell. Rather than rushing to Stone Village, she checked into a guesthouse using her reference letter.
The shabby room made her frown, but she had no choice.
At dawn, she bought two steamed buns at the state-run diner and asked directions to Stone Village. Halfway there, she caught a ride on an oxcart before continuing on foot as villagers had instructed.
Entering the village, she looked around blankly. "Comrade, where's the educated youth dormitory?"
"That way, about seven minutes' walk."
Seven minutes? Margaret thanked them and trudged toward the dormitory with her luggage.
Peeling earthen walls, low tiled roofs. Standing before the courtyard gate, Margaret's heart ached: Emily lived here?
"Who's there?" Olivia Parker grew alert seeing a well-dressed middle-aged woman enter.
"I'm looking for Emily Johnson."
"Emily hasn't lived here for years." Olivia studied her. "What business do you have?"
"I'm her mother."
Olivia blinked. "Let me take you there."
"Thank you." Margaret forced a smile. "And you are?"
"Olivia Parker. Just call me Olivia."
As they walked, Olivia wondered: Emily had been married for years, yet her family had never visited?