Early on New Year’s morning, Yu Shoutian was called awake by Da Dun’er. They had stayed up late the night before seeing in the new year as a family, so when Da Dun’er roused him, he drifted for a moment into memories of the past.

From today he was fifteen, already counted as an adult male. Under the new laws of the Great Liang, if he still lived in his old home village, he would owe the state two dan of grain each year, three liang of cotton, and a month of corvée labor. At his age, if a household in the village had some means, he could already be taking a wife to carry on the family line.

Yu Shoutian had once even served two years of labor duty in his elder cousin’s place. Thin and small, mixed in among a crowd of grown men, he barely knew how he’d endured it. Looking back now, only one word remained: bitter.

But now he was a young master. His father was a person of rank who dined on fine fare, and he no longer had to taste that kind of hardship. Yet sometimes in his dreams, it was always the past he saw, as if the bitterness would never run out.

Back then, the Yu family hadn’t even known the world held so many solar terms. From Grain Rain to Great Cold, each term came with its own customs, its own gods, its own array of good food — food that never seemed to end, that he ate and ate until it seemed to eat him back into being a child again.

Outside, someone called to him, clear and gentle.

“Young Master, someone came from Young Master Qu of Bingbu Lane to say — don’t forget your appointment at the end of the Chen hour…”

Before Da Dun’er finished speaking, Yu Shoutian had already opened his eyes on his lion-face pillow and sat bolt upright.

Da Dun’er was a houseboy from his father’s side; having delivered the message, he left. Hearing that the eldest young master was up, it was Da Gu and Xiao Gu who came in to attend him. These were steady houseboys the young aunt had specially found for him, who knew several times more characters than he did.

Yu Shoutian sat calmly on the kang and let himself be attended to — tooth powder to freshen his mouth, a paste of egg white, bean flour, and soap pod cleansing his face, then an anti-chapping cream applied — before he sat there, hair still undone, to eat his morning meal.

Cleanliness was a tradition of Qinwei Lane; Yu Shoutian now bathed every other day, never slept with his hair bound up, and had even picked up his friends’ habit of sleeping on a porcelain pillow, though he wasn’t sure what the point was — whatever habits others had, he felt he ought to learn them too.

Breakfast was the usual fare — chestnut and bean rice, mushroom soup with four small dishes of meat and vegetables, dried shrimp with magnolia bark slices, two small steamed fish, dry-tossed chicken breast, and a small piece of tofu.

Since he’d already made plans, Yu Shoutian didn’t bother with Aunt Tong’s usual demand that he chew slowly, and simply wolfed his food down. Between bites he anxiously asked Da Gu, “Youtian isn’t up yet, is he?” — then popped a stray grain of rice from the table back into his mouth.

Da Gu knew the young master’s greatest fear when going out was being tagged along by the second young master, so he answered with a smile, “Rest easy, Young Master. Second Young Master wore himself out playing yesterday and can’t get up — he’ll probably sleep till noon.”

Hearing his younger brother was still asleep, Yu Shoutian let out a breath of relief, scraped his bowl clean, rinsed his mouth, got off the kang, and began putting on his new New Year’s clothes.

This past year, Yu Shoutian had gone through more new clothes than he could count. From Aunt Chen to Aunt Tong, the households of Qinwei Lane were like one family — any aunt who came calling, perhaps simply out of idleness, liked to have all sorts of clothes made for the children. Even Old Madam Chen was the same; she always had bolts of novel fabric, and whatever she couldn’t use herself she gave to their household — not just bolt by bolt, but seven or eight kinds of fabric at a time, one or two bolts of each.

In Grandmother’s words, the Chen family’s fabric alone filled at least two rooms; they even kept a group of old women whose whole job, day in and day out, was to eat, sleep, and sew clothes and shoes for everyone.

In just this one year, Yu Shoutian’s assorted new clothes could no longer fit in a wardrobe — the family had to set aside an entire room to store them. At first Grandmother and Mother tried to manage things, keeping only two outfits in rotation for him to wear, but he grew so fast that many went to waste, and eventually no one bothered to keep track anymore. It just made his eyes ache and his heart tired to think about.

Once he’d changed into a round-collared robe of ruyi-cloud-patterned cloud satin, Yu Shoutian sat quietly before the mirror to wait, while the Shijie family attendant, who had already been waiting outside, came in to dress his hair.

Though he was male, he now used a mirror too, and had a whole clutter of things — things stuck in his hair, things smeared on his face, all of it fragrant. When he’d first arrived he used to ask what everything was; now he no longer bothered, he was simply too busy. Day after day it was reading and memorizing until his head ached — Aunt Tong seemed to want to stuff every book in the world into his skull, saying he needn’t understand the meaning now, just that broad exposure would bring understanding eventually, but for now he had to memorize first.

Poor Yu Shoutian — of the four children in the family, he was the dullest at his books. Too much reading and his head would ache; the sight of a book made him want to sleep, yet he didn’t dare doze off, didn’t dare let himself slack. He knew to treasure the chance to study, he was just slow — slower than his younger brother and sister. And yet whenever his father came home to teach him a bit of swordsmanship, he picked it up remarkably fast.

Once his new futou hat was on and a cloak trimmed with mixed fox fur draped over his shoulders, he took a talisman coin from under his pillow, tucked a hand warmer against himself, and set off with Da Gu and Xiao Gu for the front courtyard’s main hall to pay New Year’s respects to his father, mother, and grandmother. As he was leaving, his father personally hung the talisman coin at his waist, saying only that he should be careful and not play the fool.

In this household, it was actually his father who doted on him the most. Yu Shoutian could sense the guilt his father carried in his heart, but he himself thought — what was there to feel guilty about? Their life now was so good, and it was all his father had earned for them. In those chaotic years before, people starved to death in the village every year; it was his mother’s capability that had kept them all alive. Yu Shoutian would never dare speak a word of complaint now.

He left the house cheerfully, but rather than heading straight to Bingbu Lane, he first went to Old Madam’s house at the end of the lane. There, the room was already full of familiar-faced women whose names he didn’t know — they too had come early to pay respects. By generation, they would all be “young grandmothers” to him.

Yu Shoutian didn’t dare look up, just muddled his way through paying respects and greeting each one, and in return received a pile of New Year’s money — some strings of new coins tied with red string, some silver ingots, none very large, at most five or six qian each. Aunt Tong had told him that since some of these grandmothers didn’t have easy lives, no matter how little they gave he must thank them sincerely and never let anything show on his face.

How would Yu Shoutian dare show anything? Theirs was the poorest household on the whole lane — whatever spare money the family had, his father had the young aunt manage and put toward buying up estates. Even his grandmother and mother drew their monthly allowance from the young aunt, the same amount as his — ten guan a month.

Having just finished paying New Year’s respects, Grandmother, tightfisted as ever, gave him only a string of nine large coins; his mother, not daring to exceed Grandmother, gave six; his father gave not a single coin, and would rather scrape a bit off him every month to go drinking. As the eldest son, Shoutian was a filial, good boy, and every month split his allowance with his father.

After receiving his New Year’s money, being praised as handsome by a roomful of grandmothers, and being made to drink two bowls of mutton soup from before the New Year, Yu Shoutian finally managed to break free, and continued on his rounds of New Year’s greetings clutching his stomach and leaning on the wall.

By rank, his second stop should be Grandfather She’s household, and this filled Yu Shoutian’s mind with all sorts of thoughts.

Where this Grandfather She was concerned, Yu Shoutian held nothing but good feelings. First, Grandfather She was the handsomest grandfather in the world; second, Grandfather She was rich and generous.

The first time he’d met this grandfather, he’d received the greatest gift of his life — Grandfather She had given him two fifty-tael gold ingots. These were the largest ingots Yu Shoutian had ever seen in his fourteen years of life; it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on gold. They were strangely heavy — he’d slept holding them for months, more attached to them than even to his grandmother, wishing he could hug the two ingots to his chest and die happy.

No one had called him petty for it — though at home the young aunt had specially warned everyone not to mention the matter. It was more than half a year later that Yu Shoutian began to feel ashamed of himself for it, and went to the young aunt of his own accord to hand over the gold ingots and ask her to invest them in property for him.

In any case, all his family’s money was managed by the young aunt.

Seeing the hour was getting late, Yu Shoutian trotted off to the Chen household. He didn’t even need to wait for the gatekeeper to announce him — as though it were his own home, he trotted straight through to the back courtyard and made for the East Wing.

When he arrived at the East Wing door, he found a whole row of houseboys waiting quietly under the eaves — some holding basins, some holding stands, some holding mirrors, over a dozen of them, not one with empty hands.

So he still wasn’t up yet?

Just as he was thinking of retreating, he heard his young uncle inside coaxing someone awake: “Father, ah, Shoutian’s here to pay his respects, and you’re still lazing about on the kang? No elder behaves like this—”

That settled it — he couldn’t leave now. The rules in Grandfather She’s household were the strictest; in the past when paying respects here, if the elder hadn’t risen yet, one simply had to stand obediently in the courtyard and wait.

Not that he had to wait in the cold — a couple of unfamiliar maids from Jixiang’s household brought him a bronze brazier to warm himself by while he waited.

Qinwei Lane lived like one big family — the patriarch here was everyone’s patriarch, his own grandmother was everyone’s grandmother. The one exception was this Grandfather She… who was only Young Master Chen’s own father.

Since among the “Old Blade” brothers his own father was the eldest — though only a “second blade” in rank — to avoid confusing the proper order, Yu Shoutian called all the others besides his own father “young uncle,” and to outsiders referred to them as “my Uncle Chen,” “my Uncle Tong,” and so on.

The row of attendants under the eaves slowly filed in, and before long slowly filed back out. Yu Shoutian was a patient child and simply sat obediently in the courtyard waiting, until things inside had been set right, and only then went in. As soon as he entered the East Wing, sure enough, a cushion had already been laid out for him on the floor.

The boy knelt down in earnest and knocked his head against the floor three times with resounding thuds before his Grandfather She, saying, “Grandfather, your grandson wishes you a Happy New Year — may you have boundless fortune and health, and may everything go as you wish!”

His Grandfather She laughed and said, “Get up quickly, how can anyone have everything go as they wish. It’s cold out there, isn’t it — warm yourself by the fire first…”

Hearing his own master speak this way, She Jixiang wasn’t pleased, and complained a little, “It’s New Year’s Day, and the child came so happily to pay his respects, and this is what you say to him.”

Yu Shoutian stood and carefully sat down, only then daring to look up at Grandfather She. Truthfully, he felt Grandfather She didn’t look like a grandfather at all — his features seemed even younger than his own father’s.

Only — why did he also love lying in bed like this? Also loved letting his hair down first thing in the morning, still hadn’t gotten out from under the covers — just as the young aunt said, spoiled by his own Uncle Chen until he had no dignity befitting a grandfather, and could only be coaxed along gently.

If it weren’t for the adults at home warning him not to go around saying there was such a good-looking grandfather in the family, he would have already gone bragging to his friends about it.

She Qingling, startled by his old servant’s rebuke, looked at his son and asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

Young Master Chen indulged him, quickly sending someone up onto the kang to smooth his father’s hair, coaxing him, “However you like, whatever makes you happy. It’s just that the children will all be coming to pay New Year’s respects soon — Shoutian’s a boy so it’s fine, but Da Niu and the others are girls.”

Grandfather She seemed unused to such liveliness, and after a good while said, “Then — then hurry it up.”

Having said that, his eyes brightened and he directed those around him, “Quick, quick, give this child — oh, the New Year’s money.”

With that, someone came forward carrying things — first hanging a large jade pendant at his waist, then a pouch besides.

This past year, Yu Shoutian had often been taken by the young aunts to identify items in their dowry storerooms. Just among the patterns woven into satin, he’d already learned to recognize many — shuttle-body joined halo, connected-pearl joined halo, cluster-treasure medallion, four-directional flower cluster, tortoiseshell, pomegranate blossom, and so on.

He was meant to learn to glance at a pattern and know at once where a person came from — since different places of silk weaving each had their characteristic motifs — and likewise, dining at someone’s home and seeing their porcelain, whether black-glazed or celadon, ornate or plain, one could tell where that family’s roots lay.

The aunts said that a proper young gentleman never fussed over such things aloud — one glance should tell him which kiln a piece came from, which loom a bolt of cloth was woven on.

This was the second thing worth knowing, after book learning.

Just like the pouch at his waist today — Yu Shoutian could tell at a glance it was kesi tapestry weave, woven in one piece depicting the Five Sons Passing the Imperial Exam, though he couldn’t tell which region’s kesi work it was. Still, that wasn’t bad — only a year in, and having handled so many pieces from the aunts opening their dowry storerooms one by one for him, he really had gained a great deal of knowledge.

While he was still looking down at his waist lost in thought, Yu Shoutian heard the words he dreaded most in the world: “So — so what have you been reading lately?”

It was New Year’s Day, for heaven’s sake…

His heart sank, and Yu Shoutian stammered out, “N-not really reading anything, just, just learned over a hundred characters, and, and memorized a dozen or so poems. Young Aunt says my mind opened late and I’m not good at learning things, so I just memorize by rote for now and let understanding come slowly later. These past days I haven’t been reading — Young Aunt’s been teaching me some things about fabric patterns, and I’ve got those memorized…”

She Qingling sat up, letting the attendant behind him slowly bind up his hair, and hearing the boy mention fabric patterns, asked quite seriously, “Oh? What dynasty have you gotten to?”

A clap of thunder from a clear sky — Yu Shoutian froze, mouth agape, and after a long moment managed, “I— I don’t know? Just, just got to chariots and cavalry, war horses, tiger-fighting scenes, mounted riders…”

Utterly unaware of how flustered the boy was, She Qingling, once the attendant had finished tying his headband, turned and asked Jixiang with a smile, “I didn’t know Zhang Zhengci had a hobby of collecting rubbings.”

Zhang Zhengci was Zhang Wanru’s father.

She Jixiang, kneeling to help him with his socks, answered, “The Zhang family has favored antiquities for generations, sir — did you not know?”

She Qingling thought a moment, then shook his head with a smile. “It’s been too long, I don’t recall.” Then he turned to Yu Shoutian, whose forehead was now beaded with sweat, and asked, “No need to be so nervous — you’re your father’s son, no one will fault you for being poor at studies. But how much of your father’s skill have you picked up?”

This time Chen Dasheng had something to say. Grinning, he directed the servants setting out his father’s morning meal while saying, “That I know about — this boy’s quite clever. His father picked up a saber technique from Liu Daya, and after watching it just twice, he had it down. Last time I came home and sparred with him for fun, he could hold his own against me for several exchanges — his form flows well, not the clumsy sort who just goes through the motions.”

She Qingling, who always drew a clear line between family and outsiders, nodded with satisfaction at this, and with a bit more of a smile on his face, said to Yu Shoutian, “I remember this child now — turned fifteen this year, hasn’t he?”

Yu Shoutian finally let out a breath of relief and said, “Yes, today is my first day of being fifteen.”

First day of being fifteen — hearing this, She Qingling laughed, and after laughing said pleasantly, “Good! Good, our generation in this family has a grown man among us now too. Not bad, not bad. In that case…”

He said to Yu Shoutian seriously, “Once the New Year festivities are over, go serve a few years in the outer guard. Qingfeng Right Guard isn’t far from home — go there and take a junior post as a decury leader for now. In a few years, once your father comes down from the Southern Gate posting, I’ll have you transferred into the inner guard.”

Yu Shoutian didn’t understand he’d just been given an appointment, and said blankly, “Ah? Oh!”

Chen Dasheng burst out laughing, stepped up and gave him a smack on the back of the head, saying, “Silly boy, you’ve just been made an official! Aren’t you going to thank your Grandfather She!”

He’d just been made an official?!

Yu Shoutian didn’t know what post he’d just been given, but he was happy all the same. He stood, knelt again, and kowtowed to Grandfather She. Once he’d finished, he heard Grandfather She dismiss him, saying, “There, that’s what being made an official means. I was just worried he’d run wild and pick up bad habits. Go on and play now, poor child — you won’t have such easy days from now on.”

Why he wouldn’t have such easy days anymore, Yu Shoutian couldn’t fathom. Afraid the subject might return to his studies, he quickly took his leave and went to kowtow before the young aunt in the front hall. Only after hearing him out did she tell him that Grandfather She had arranged for him an eighth-rank post as decury leader — he would now be in charge of ten men, drawing six guan a month, and seventy-two dan of official grain-stipend a year — but from this day on, his monthly allowance of ten guan from her would stop.

Just like that, gone? Yu Shoutian’s heart shattered, another clap of thunder crashing down on him.

Leaving the Chen household, then on through the Cheng, Meng, and Tong households in turn, everyone congratulated Yu Shoutian — yet the boy could think of only one thing: from now on he wouldn’t get his ten guan a month. It really was heartbreaking.

And so, while seemingly the whole world was delighted, only this one boy left looking gloomy climbed into his family’s carriage and rode straight to the entrance of Bingbu Lane, where his usual circle of friends was already waiting.

Everyone, growing up, eventually finds friends whose temperaments suit their own — but for a child like Yu Shoutian, things had gone differently. Back in his old home village, his eldest uncle’s children had endless chores to do every day, with no leisure time to find any fun in life, and he’d suffered through that until now, when he’d finally found three good friends here on Bingbu Lane.

Dou Yonglun of the Dou family, Qu Yingfang of the Qu family, and Kong Xiangchun of the Kong family. The four of them were roughly the same age, but the other three studied together at the Sanli Academy by the ancestral hall, while he alone studied at home with his aunts, under the pretense that the family had hired a private tutor just for him.

Timid at heart and lacking in polish, Yu Shoutian was the sort of child who talked plenty at home but grew quiet and reserved out in the world.

His friends piled into the carriage all at once, showering him with warm praise. His carriage was elegant and roomy inside, lined with old felt, wolf pelt, and lambskin for warmth, and further heated by a fine charcoal brazier.

They were all children of sixth- or seventh-rank military officials’ households, raised somewhat roughly at home — on a cold day like this, families didn’t normally have carriages ready for the children; if there were spare horses one rode, if there were spare carriages one took a carriage. Today being New Year’s Day, this group of young masters had only managed to scrape together two carriages between them — one from the Qu family, and naturally the other from the Yu family.

It was nothing new — Yu Shoutian had ridden in others’ carriages plenty of times before.

The young masters climbed happily into the carriage, followed by four or five houseboys who took the Qu family’s carriage behind. Today being New Year’s Day, the boys had already planned to go burn incense at Huguo Temple — not that they dared hope to be first to light incense, nor were their hearts especially devout; they simply wanted to see the excitement.

Once everyone had settled and the carriage set off, the young masters exchanged glances, then all smilingly pulled out their purses to pool their New Year’s money on the little fold-out table.

Yu Shoutian was a bit stingy by nature — the gold ingots Grandfather She and the aunts had given him, he’d already had Xiao Gu carry home; what he had on him now was half a bag of silver ingots he’d gotten from Old Madam’s — not a small sum, at least enough to save face in front of his friends.

Qu Yingfang, the eldest among them, was first to take out four five-qian silver ingots and set them on the table, saying, “This is for incense-oil money at Huguo Temple.”

The others followed suit and handed over their silver ingots.

“This is for the vegetarian meal.”

“This is for the private room fee at the barbarian pleasure house in Yandu when we go down the mountain afterward, plus tips and drink money — it’s New Year’s, so this should be double.”

None of them were quite top-tier young masters, so they all dutifully pooled their funds. To keep up appearances outside, they pooled their money privately beforehand, then each took turns playing host when the bill actually came, in front of others.

Yu Shoutian handed over a full twelve taels of silver ingots in one go, his heart breaking to pieces inside, though he didn’t dare say so and could only silently endure it.

The other young masters, though, didn’t feel the pinch quite so much — even with more or less the same, they each got a monthly allowance of three or five taels, less than Yu Shoutian’s, yet they knew how to spend it better. Sometimes, to avoid losing face out in public, they’d spend beyond their means and grit their teeth, knowing they’d get a beating at home afterward, or have to kneel before the ancestral hall — commonplace things — but they would never let it show in front of their friends.

Once Qu Yingfang had collected and put away the silver, the carriage rattled along toward Yandu — they’d need to stop at a money house first to exchange the silver ingots given by their families for copper coins to spend outside.

Only families in decline, who didn’t know how to keep up appearances, spent silver ingots openly out in public.

Once they’d reached Yandu and exchanged their money, the young masters finally relaxed and began chatting freely — until then they’d all been holding their breath the entire way, not daring to relax.

No helping it — if the money house happened to be closed today, an entire year’s worth of planned extravagance would be for nothing, and they all harbored secret hopes of going to watch the dancing girls at the barbarian pleasure house.

Qu Yingfang tucked the money into a pouch, handed half to his own houseboy, then climbed back into the carriage grinning and said, “I’ve sent him ahead to reserve us a spot.”

The newly-turned-adult young masters felt a bit self-conscious, but all nodded with feigned composure. Kong Xiangchun even chimed in, “As agreed, we’ll follow Brother’s arrangements.”

Yu Shoutian called out to Da Gu, who kept driving the carriage on out of the city. Once they’d left the streets behind, Qu Yingfang said with a mysterious grin, “Guess who I just saw?”

They all looked at him, and he gave a sly chuckle. “I saw Tang Hexuan of the Fourth House at Qipan Courtyard. Always so stuck-up, won’t even deign to talk to us at school — turns out he’s just another one who exchanges silver ingots too!”

This fellow was a typical child of Bingbu Lane, never one to keep things to himself — even though he himself was also just someone exchanging silver ingots.

The other boys burst into mocking laughter at this, and once they’d had their fill, Dou Yonglun spoke up: “No matter how bad he is, he’s still better off than us lot. I heard my father say — come the new year, he’s been recommended for a deputy post in the Ministry of Works, and here we are, still idle. My father said last night while seeing in the new year that if we scrimp and save the next few years, he’ll try to arrange nominal posts for my two elder brothers, and then see about getting them recommended for something real, so they’ll at least look presentable when it comes to finding wives.”

Fourteen or fifteen was an awkward age — the young masters of Qingfeng, though they wouldn’t admit out loud to feeling inferior to those of Yandu, still felt a certain self-consciousness at having come of age and yet still being stuck in the schoolroom.

Every household had multiple branches, wives and concubines both, legitimate and illegitimate children in long lines — the problems they faced were all much the same.

Qinwei Lane wasn’t like that, but Yu Shoutian never let slip so much as a word of family business when he was out. His father had told him — if you want to eat off the Imperial Guard’s rice bowl, you’d better learn to keep your mouth shut first.

Yu Shoutian admired his fathers boundlessly. Knowing he wasn’t clever, he’d started by learning to hold his tongue — that much, at least, he was good at learning.

Hearing his friends lament how hard times were, happy as he felt today, he didn’t dare mention that he’d already been given a post as decury leader, even if it was only an outer-guard position one step short of the inner guard.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, he pulled a lacquered snack box out from under his seat and offered his friends some pastries and tea.

The young aunt was always generous about such small things, and never treated him as merely a child to be brushed aside — every time he went out, his carriage among the four friends’ was always the one stocked, and per the elders’ allotment, always filled to the brim.

This gave him quite a bit of face.

A boy’s appetite was a bottomless pit — the moment the others saw food they cheered together and dug in, chattering away between bites — about some minor official in Yandu who’d won five thousand guan before the New Year, what they’d do with five thousand guan if they had it, about some fellow’s son at school, younger than them, who already had two attendant maids in his bed…

Yu Shoutian had nothing to offer on this front — he had no experience to draw on for such talk, and grew quieter and quieter.

By the time they reached the base of Huguo Temple’s mountain, the carriage suddenly stopped. Thinking it was just the crowds, no one paid much mind and they kept chatting — until Cai Yonglun (Dou Yonglun) absentmindedly lifted the carriage curtain, dropped the pastry in his hand, and turned back stammering, “Guess — guess who I just saw? Huh?”

Qu Yingfang looked at him with disdain. “Hmph, the Queen Mother of the West?”

Dou Yonglun’s face flushed red, his hand trembling as he pointed to the left and lowered his voice. “N-no! I— I saw, saw Peng Ruiniang of Libu Lane.”

At that, even Yu Shoutian dropped what was in his hand, and they all crowded toward the carriage door, not daring to open the curtain wide, only peeking through a narrow gap, hearts full of longing held carefully in check.

She was the girl every young man on Quanhou Street adored.

In truth, the young masters of Quanhou Street had their own unspoken hierarchy — the sons of Qipan Courtyard looked down on those of the Six Ministries lanes behind it; among the Six Ministries lanes, Personnel looked down on Justice, Justice looked down on Revenue, Revenue looked down on Works, Works looked down on War, War looked down on Rites, Rites looked down on those who lived in mixed housing, and those in mixed housing looked down on renters.

And above all of them, every one of these young masters treated Qinwei Lane as though it didn’t even exist.

It was hard to describe exactly — whether it was disdain or something else — but their families avoided the subject, so the children avoided it too, children always learning such things from the adults.

A cluster of mid-tier court officials all living in the same district, weddings and funerals bringing the families into frequent contact, meant that the beautiful young ladies and gentlemen of each household were often privately discussed, each silently ranked in people’s minds.

Not far off, in the carriage to their left, sat the very girl these young masters had long dreamed of. That carriage must have been waiting a while — a young lady, steadying herself on her maid’s arm, stepped down and followed behind her mother, looking up the mountain.

Great Liang was more open-minded than the previous dynasty, and had no custom of women never setting foot outside the household gates — especially the Shaoshang faction, which delighted in doing everything contrary to the old dynasty’s ways.

The girl the boys so adored, Ruiniang, was indeed as lovely as they’d imagined — dressed today in a gold-brocaded jacket with a red base, draped in a scarlet cloak, wearing the “revival three-white” makeup currently fashionable in Yandu, with pink floral appliqués on her forehead, her hair done up in a dragon-stamen coil, bright red ribbons trailing from it in the wind.

It was bitterly cold that day, and the cold had flushed Ruiniang’s small face bright red beneath her three-white makeup.

She was the most beautiful girl of Quanhou Street — the elders all said she was destined for the palace, to become a consort someday, and told the boys not to entertain foolish hopes.

Even if she didn’t end up as a consort, the legitimate daughter of Lord Peng of Libu Lane would never marry one of their sort from Bingbu Lane — so all they could do was look. If they ever happened to catch sight of her, they’d sometimes make a great commotion, talking loudly on purpose, jostling each other deliberately — but they had never before seen her from so close.

Just as they were admiring her, a burst of urgent hoofbeats sounded from up the mountain, and a group of Imperial Guards came riding down, holding up their ceremonial staves and shouting, “Honored guests are visiting the mountain today — the mountain is under curfew! Carriages, please turn back! Carriages, please turn back!”

“Huh? We can’t go up the mountain?”

Admiring a pretty girl was one thing, but hearing they couldn’t go enjoy the festivities on the mountain, the young masters slumped back into the carriage as though their bones had given out, sprawling limply in their seats — all except Yu Shoutian, who alone lifted the curtain and craned his neck to look back longingly.

His heart was now pounding wildly, as fast as when his little brother thrashed about on the kang a hundred times over.

Kong Xiangchun tugged at him. “Quick, get back in, aren’t you cold? Where are you going?”

But Yu Shoutian had already jumped down from the carriage, and in front of everyone, flagged down one of the passing Imperial Guards and called out, “Are you an uncle of the Jinwu Guard?”

The guard had been about to raise his riding crop to scold him, but hearing the boy call him “uncle,” reined in his horse and looked down at him. “And who might you be? Whose child?”

Yu Shoutian felt a little shy, but he wasn’t afraid of the Imperial Guards — men of the Imperial Bodyguard were like family to him; he often slipped off to Yandu to play, and if it got late and he didn’t feel like going home, he’d stay over at his father’s quarters, so he’d grown up feeling naturally close to the guards.

He said with a smile, “Happy New Year, uncle, wishing you health and peace — I’m from Long Blade Guard Yu Qingguan’s household.”

Hearing this, the guard looked Yu Shoutian over, then glanced sidelong at the family’s carriage, and upon spotting its markings, broke into a laugh. “Heh! You’re Second Brother Yu’s boy! Not an outsider then. What, out with your elders to burn incense today?”

Yu Shoutian quickly shook his head, then nodded, and pointed shyly back at the carriage behind him. “Uncle, is it really impossible to go up today?”

The mounted guard laughed again. “Others can’t go up, but our own household’s carriages can. Wait here a moment, child, I’ll go get you a pass. How many carriages did you bring?”

Yu Shoutian’s heart pounded like a drum; he glanced back, then turned and boldly lied, “Reporting to you, uncle — six carriages!”

The guard glanced over that way, chuckled, and tapped Yu Shoutian with his riding crop. “Alright, nephew, wait here.”

With that he turned his horse and rode back up the mountain. Before long he came trotting back, reached down, and pressed a stack of bamboo tokens into Yu Shoutian’s hands. “Wait about half an hour, nephew — once the crowds have thinned, slip in from the right side. Show the tokens and you can eat vegetarian fare with the guest-attendants at the side hall. Tonight when you get home, give your father my regards — tell him Li Gao of the Jinwu Guard wished him a Happy New Year.”

With that, the guard rode off swiftly.

Yu Shoutian clutched the tokens, his hands trembling. He stood there a good while, then finally worked up the courage to carry the tokens over to the carriage on the right. He bowed respectfully first toward whoever sat inside, and heard a woman’s voice, smiling, say from within, “Get up quickly, child — you’re out to burn incense today too?”

Yu Shoutian nodded but didn’t dare say more, and instead relayed, haltingly, what the guard had told him, then handed the four tokens to the Peng family’s driver.

Once he’d heard their thanks from inside, he quickly demurred, then hurried back to his own carriage. Once the curtain dropped behind him, he collapsed limply inside, gasping for breath — and when he finally caught his breath and opened his eyes, he got a fright.

There sat Kong Xiangchun and the other two, staring wide-eyed at him. Qu Yingfang, furious, rolled up his sleeves and said, “I’ll thrash you, you sly little schemer! Something good happens and you just leave your brothers hanging — was all that incense we burned together for nothing?”

With that, the three of them piled onto Yu Shoutian and set upon him.

The carriage beside them rocked and swayed, the boy’s yelps of pain drifting out continuously. Young Ruiniang covered her mouth with her sleeve, laughing at the sight; her mother, finding it amusing too, glared at her and scolded with a laugh, “What unladylike behavior!”

The lovely, radiant young lady laughed aloud at that, even sticking her tongue out playfully at her mother and pleading, “Mother~ your daughter’s about to enter the palace, just let me be free this once!”

With that, she burst into silvery laughter.

And in that moment, the carriage nearby went suddenly still, the boys slowly closing their eyes, wishing they could imprint that laughter on their hearts forever, hoping they’d never forget it as long as they lived.