People’s experiences differ, and so does the way they view things. Empress Dowager Jiang, for all that she had spent her life unable to act on her own will, was in fact remarkably perceptive when she thought of Qinwei Lane as though it were a harem to be managed.

She said to Qiqian’er, “…This old woman is also one who keeps a vegetarian diet and recites the sutras. By rights I shouldn’t casually interfere in others’ marriages and damage my own cultivation — but your family is different.” The Empress Dowager patted Qiqian’er’s hand sincerely a few times and said, “Amitabha. Your A’Nai and I have grown accustomed to each other now. She’s a simple soul without a scheming bone in her, and it’s caused you children no small amount of hardship — not easy, at such a young age.”

Helping to tuck a few loose strands of Qiqian’er’s hair back into place, the old woman continued, “In the past, this old woman often heard your A’Nai speak of you children — every one of you, solid and sincere. As for the Chai family, even though they’re marrying into the Chang household, they’re still not quite a match for your family. Your brothers have already entered official careers — on that basis alone, they outrank the sons of most other households by half a tier.

The moment you said Shao Shang’s Chang family, this old woman knew at once who you meant — that’s a modest household that rose through the wife’s family connections. It’s not that their character is bad, I wouldn’t presume to speak ill of them — but sisters born of the same mother, married into brothers of the same household — you might not see it in a day or a season, but given enough time, they’re bound to grow close to one another as kin. It’s not that we fear them being close — but why should a perfectly good family be split down the middle to live as two?”

The Empress Dowager left plenty unsaid, but Qiqian’er understood at once. As she lowered her head to think it over, she heard her own family’s Old Madam chime in beside her: “That’s exactly the reasoning — your Grandmother Jiang isn’t wrong at all. Once they’ve become one family, what would that make you?”

The Old Madam clapped her hands apart. “All for nothing — chickens flown, eggs smashed!”

“Hmph~!”

Everyone burst out laughing together, and Qiqian’er laughed too, saying, “You’re quite right, elders — but I’ve already given my word to them today. I was thinking too, of how when our Choutou and the brothers first came to Yanjing, they received no small help at court from the old Marquis and his son. Back then, where did our family even stand? And they never once looked down on us for our humble origins. One has to remember others’ kindness — and when the Old Madam herself came out to make such a request, how could I refuse her?”

The Old Madam nodded again and again. “Just so — our Qian’er has the best conscience of anyone. Whatever kindness she receives, she repays it tenfold, a hundredfold.”

Empress Dowager Jiang smiled and tapped Qiqian’er’s forehead with a finger. “And to think you have a reputation for being sharp-tongued outside — they ought to bring everyone here to see this useless, soft-hearted side of yours! Refuse it? We’re not refusing it at all.”

Whatever could she mean by that?

The Old Madam and Qiqian’er both looked at Empress Dowager Jiang, but the Empress Dowager only took Qiqian’er’s hands and turned them over and over, feeling the calluses on her palms. It reminded her of what her old friend often said — how this child ground flour with her own hands for her nominal father. Who wouldn’t love such a filial child?

Her own foolish son had a whole palace full of consorts, and whatever needlework was sent to her hands was invariably exquisite, masterful work — but was that truly the work of a consort’s own hands?

She herself had once been a noble concubine, and she had never once done needlework for that old wretch — she wouldn’t even light incense for him before the Buddha.

What’s more, given the long-standing grievances between She Qingling and the Zheng family, the Empress Dowager naturally sided with She Qingling — otherwise she could never have become close with the Old Madam in the first place.

The Empress Dowager turned things over in her mind several times, then finally said with a look of tender affection, “My child, we women are born with short legs in this life — there’s nowhere we can truly go on our own, and we must be reborn three times over. In the first rebirth, we don’t choose our parents. In the second rebirth, we don’t choose our husband. What remains is the third — and that depends on ourselves alone. If you don’t stand firm on your own, you become like the mulberry mistletoe, rootless, coming and going, living on the leaves of another’s tree, drifting wherever the wind takes you. The Chai family’s girls are already pitiable enough, held back and delayed in their prime by their in-laws’ misfortune — why should we add frost atop snow and commit such a sin ourselves? You, now — go there cheerfully and simply say we’ve agreed.”

Qiqian’er was taken aback. “Agreed?”

The Empress Dowager nodded. “Yes, agreed! And agreed cheerfully, sincerely, with great fanfare besides. And then, you can go and ask for that young lady’s birth chart. This old woman has said it already — it’s not that the Chai family’s girls aren’t good, it’s simply that they shouldn’t all be sent to your family at once. So we’ll agree to just one, and as for the rest, you can go find some renowned master at a Daoist temple or Buddhist monastery to consult, and in the end simply say the birth charts don’t match. It’s a pity, but nothing to be done — that way, both families come out unharmed. People in this world will always have something to say, but you needn’t hand them your own face to gossip about.”

It could be done this way?

Qiqian’er blinked. “But — what if the birth charts do match?”

At this, the Empress Dowager laughed, coaxing her in a sweet, indulgent tone as though humoring a small child. “Silly girl, the other family’s girls’ birth charts are fixed — but our own boys? Which of them even knows his own birth chart? Just quietly ask the abbess at Qingque Nunnery, and report a time that’s certain to clash. Whoever’s fault it turns out to be, it certainly won’t fall on us. Don’t you agree?”

Hearing this, Qiqian’er felt her very bones go soft, and thought to herself — no wonder this woman had survived the harem all those years. Even at her age, if she truly wanted to coax you along, well! One’s very bones would turn to jelly.

Qiqian’er was utterly won over. “That’s exactly the reasoning — I’ve learned something today. Many thanks, A’Nai.”

She let herself be a little coquettish too.

Hearing this, Empress Dowager Jiang laughed and pulled her into an embrace. “My child, how old are you even? Such a young age, yet already shouldering the affairs of so many branches of the family — you’re already a hundred times better than most. There’s no rush — learn slowly, bit by bit. In this life, the worst thing is being too rigid. Don’t think that just because your own head is hard, you can bear the weight of everything — hah, in the end, everyone around you will simply come to expect you to be hard, and whenever trouble comes, they’ll let you take the loss first, and think nothing of it…”

Perhaps feeling her back grow stiff, the old woman rose, still holding Qiqian’er’s hand. “This breeze feels lovely — this old woman doesn’t often come down from the mountain. Shall we ladies take a stroll about together?”

Qiqian’er agreed readily, and helped Empress Dowager Jiang out the door, with Yiyue supporting the Old Madam close behind.

As they stepped outside, the Old Madam, rare for her, said something rather sensible: “Qian’er, ah, you ought to learn more from your Grandmother Jiang. Your A’Nai here is a woman of little learning, can’t even read — there’s really nothing much I can teach you.”

Hearing this, Empress Dowager Jiang glanced sideways at her with a smile. “Look at you, showing such awareness now — that’s real progress. I suppose my teaching these past days hasn’t been wasted on you after all.”

The way the old woman spoke, gentle and noble as flowing water, made her seem like a living Bodhisattva who cherished all the world.

The whole group, chatting and laughing, left through the gate and wandered leisurely along the back alley in the direction of the chess pavilion.

As they walked, Empress Dowager Jiang said, “I once knew someone, long ago — such a temperament, such a backbone, as though she wanted to hold up the very sky with her own two hands. She lived half her life never once bowing her head, never once yielding…”

Qiqian’er understood at once that the old woman was speaking of Empress Dowager Zheng within the palace. Her heart trembled a little, but she could only smile and reply, “Is that so?”

“Indeed. Long ago, back in my hometown, fortune smiled on me and I met a master of some spiritual accomplishment. This master couldn’t move mountains or fill seas, couldn’t summon clouds or command rain — but was unmatched at soothing troubled hearts. Whatever suffering weighed on you, just a conversation with this master, and all your ailments would melt away.

I remember the master once said — in this world, whether man or woman, certain sufferings are simply inevitable. Twenty has the troubles of twenty, thirty the troubles of thirty. Being a daughter has a daughter’s troubles, being a wife has a wife’s troubles. Being a child, being a parent — some hardships are shared by all. But when those hardships come, you mustn’t be too rigid about it. Let the people around you, your kin, share the burden with you — after all, it’s not something you alone must bear, is it?”

Qiqian’er nodded, and the Empress Dowager patted her hand and repeated, “Don’t let them grow so used to your strength that you end up wearing yourself to death over it.”

Qiqian’er let go of her arm and bowed in agreement.

Seeing her so obedient, the Empress Dowager grew all the more eager to teach her. “My child, remember this — you must learn to allow, to accept. Even when you’re utterly alone with no one to help, don’t be hard on yourself either. You’re pitiable enough as it is, all by yourself — why bully yourself on top of it? You must allow difficulties to happen, without anger, without resentment. The difficulty sits there regardless — it’s not as though you can headbutt your way through it out of sheer spite and have it resolved. You won’t die from it. Take it slowly, and one day it simply won’t matter anymore…”

The Empress Dowager stopped at the mouth of the alley, glanced left and right, and suddenly reached out and grasped at the empty air, smiling in a strangely mischievous way. “You, now — you must learn to be like the vine wrapped round the tree, learn to be soft and yielding as a bent finger. There will come a day when she can no longer stand firm, and that’s when you wind yourself around her, coil by coil, until she’s finished…her!”

She finished, and winked at Qiqian’er. “Remember that?”

Qiqian’er smiled and bowed to her again. “I’ll remember.”

At this, the Empress Dowager patted the back of her hand. “Good child.”

Qiqian’er, though, found herself turning this remark over in her mind afterward — she hadn’t taken it entirely to heart, yet she didn’t feel the old woman was wrong either.

As it happened, there was later a saying among the common people that Empress Dowager Zheng within the palace had indeed remained fierce and unyielding her whole life, never once giving way to anyone. Yet after her death, she was laid to rest on the left side of the Retired Emperor. The court officials all said this violated proper ritual, but the Emperor had his own words for it — he said, my mother never once fought for anything in her life; can her own son not fight for her the placement of a single coffin?

And so, later, the old Empress Dowager was laid to rest at her husband’s right side instead.

But was that truly right? A lifetime of suppressed grievance while alive, and once dead, dead — it’s over, nothing more to know or feel.

Well, no matter — those who had lived it could only take it as humoring the old woman for her own amusement.

The group, surrounding the two old women, made their way around Quanhou Street, visiting the shrine of the fertility goddess, the Dragon King temple, even the mountain god’s shrine on the hillside.

Empress Dowager Jiang was a devout woman. Seeing loose, missing tiles on a temple roof, she donated funds for a new roof. Seeing the gilding worn away from the Dragon King’s statue, she donated for a new gilded body. And seeing the mountain god’s shrine sorely lacking in everything, she simply reached out a hand and donated an entirely new temple.

She herself didn’t quite know why fate had given her a son who became emperor, but she dared not overlook a single temple, dared not slight a single deity along the way.

The old woman wasn’t used to walking so much in one outing, and that evening she ate an extra half-bowl at dinner, drank a bit of the cooking broth to aid digestion afterward, and retired early.

Once Qiqian’er had properly attended to both venerable elders, she went home and lay on the heated brick bed, waiting until nearly the end of the hour of Zi before quietly changing her clothes and slipping out through the window, making her way in swift bounds to the usual spot at the foot of Baiquan Mountain.

At the foot of Baiquan Mountain, Old Xin had already lit a bonfire and was roasting a leg of lamb.

The rich aroma was especially noticeable in the dead of night, and Qiqian’er caught the scent from a distance.

She landed and stepped out from the shadows, smiling at Old Xin. “My, my — quite the appetite tonight, aren’t you?” Sitting down, she continued to tease him. “So you’ve finally given up your cultivation long enough to come see me?”

Old Xin, an easygoing sort by nature, had long since gotten over any embarrassment. Hearing Qiqian’er’s jab, he laughed and said, “Gave that up ages ago. With a true living immortal like Your Highness in this world, why should this old fellow burn incense to seek one elsewhere?”

With that, he picked up his ox-ear blade, sliced a strip of meat from the succulent, fragrant part of the leg, and handed it to her.

Qiqian’er didn’t stand on ceremony, removing her mask and taking the blade, gnawing meat straight off the tip. After eating for a while, she sensed something odd in his gaze, and looked up, mouth greasy, to ask, “What are you staring at?”

Even now, Old Xin could hardly believe it. Hearing her question, he laughed and shook his head. “Who would have thought — the world-famous Elm Mother Goddess of Baiquan Mountain turns out to be the household-managing young mistress of an official family’s inner quarters!”

Qiqian’er swallowed her mouthful of meat and cut off another piece herself. “Isn’t being a household-managing lady a fine thing? No wind, no rain, fine silks to wear, a grand house to live in, servants coming and going at my beck and call. I’ve got someone to shell my beans for me — whatever trouble comes my way, it’s all contained within the walls of a small courtyard! What’s so good about the martial world, anyway? Either nothing happens, or when something does happen, there’s a life-and-death cause-and-effect tangled up in it. Am I so bored with my comfortable life that I’d trade it away? Now — what did you actually call me here for tonight?”

Old Xin smiled. “You’ve hit it right on the head, Your Highness — the moment something happens, there’s always a life-and-death matter tangled in it.”

He stood, walked over to the large boulder behind him, brushed aside a pile of scattered leaves and dry branches, revealing more than twenty large silver chests.

The moment Qiqian’er saw these, her face fell. “Old Xin, you know perfectly well I hate this sort of thing more than anything.”

Old Xin nodded, reached out and lifted the lid of one chest, took out a silver ingot and tossed it a few times in his palm. “Of course I know. But the martial world isn’t kind, and this old fellow can’t extricate himself from it either. Everyone outside says I’m the only one who can reach you. We can’t drag Liuhao or Wujiu into it either, so it falls to these old bones of mine to keep running back and forth.”

Old Xin had never much cared for money — if he had, he wouldn’t have made himself an old beggar in the first place.

Casually tossing the ingot back into the chest, the old man returned to the fire and said, “Two matters, then. Spring’s arrived, as you can see, and though you said you don’t want the tribute payments anymore, rules are rules. If you refuse, others will look greedy by comparison. All the old recluses of this world need to earn their keep too — if you keep refusing, aren’t you just inviting resentment? Our Qingfeng, being right next to Yanjing, is a lively spot, and the tribute收 collected there is no small sum — no household dares falsify its accounts. You said to hand it over to the court, and fine, that’s what we did. We all sat down together and discussed it, and following your instructions from last year, we delivered the tribute to Jiu Si Tang. Afterward, word came from the capital that they didn’t want you to keep coming out at a loss, so they set aside a portion for you and asked me to pass it along.”

Qiqian’er shook her head at once. “Even sticky money like that, brought back — behind it lies no end of trouble. Those officials at court, their favorite trick is switching faces like an opera performer. What is Jiu Si Tang trying to do, if not unify the realm under one hand? Trust me — anyone who’s ever taken a share from the court’s money bags is bound to come to a bad end eventually! Send it right back — I won’t accept this money. My household isn’t lacking a stipend, and I still hold an official rank of my own!”

Old Xin burst out laughing at this.

Once he’d finished laughing, he continued, “As for the second matter — someone’s gotten themselves into deep trouble, provoked the Qin Family Estate, and now wants to buy your protection for three hundred thousand strings of cash. They want to rent two mu of land on Baiquan Mountain, build a small shrine, and lodge someone there. It’s not for free, mind — three hundred thousand strings up front, and thirty thousand strings a year after that. If the price doesn’t satisfy you, we can still push back on their behalf.”

Qiqian’er reached out, stuck the meat knife into the leg of lamb, and stared at the flames for a long while before asking, “Who is it?”

Old Xin sighed. “The founding-dynasty marquis currently in office, Junior Tutor to the Crown Prince, soon to be sent off as regional governor of Jindian — Tan Shouyi’s eldest son, Tan Shiyuan.”

Qiqian’er froze for a moment, struck by an odd sense that fortune’s wheel had come full circle.

She was, of course, well aware of what had happened to Chen Dasheng and the others — though she hadn’t known they intended revenge, she knew full well the Chen family had lost lives to Tan Family’s army.

Thinking of this, Qiqian’er suddenly laughed. She wrapped her arms around her knees, staring at the fire, and after a long while asked, “That’s — that’s the Tan Shiyuan of the Tan Family’s army?”

Old Xin gave a bitter smile. “Who else could it be? This old fellow once owed a great debt of gratitude, and now they’re using that very favor to force me into acting as go-between. I couldn’t well refuse.”

Qiqian’er nodded. “I see. And just now you mentioned the Qin Family Estate — the one behind the mountain, that carves steles?”

Hearing her ask this, Old Xin sighed with real exasperation. “Your Highness, if you’re bored, ask me more often — this old fellow has nothing else to do all day but wander the city walls. I’d be happy to teach you.”

Qiqian’er rolled her eyes. “And why exactly would I want to learn?”

Old Xin, helpless, could only say, “In this whole realm, the only family that can rival the North and South Huguo Temples in renown is the Qin Family Estate!”

Hearing this, Qiqian’er nodded as though suddenly understanding. “Ah, I see! So the Tan family, knowing the Qin Family Estate lost to me, wants to use my restricted-boundary stele to hide from them — is that it?”

Old Xin nodded. “Just so. Three hundred thousand strings a year is a fair price indeed — but this old fellow already suspects you won’t want it.”

At this, Qiqian’er laughed. “Correct. Of all the families surnamed Tan in this world, that one’s the most detestable. Never mind helping them — I won’t hide it from you, if anyone from that family were standing at the water’s edge, I’d be lucky to resist the urge to push them in myself! You know my family’s background — we lost no small number of lives to that family. And yes, our own Choutou suffered plenty at their hands too. Never mind that for now, though — come, tell me, how exactly did these people bring their misfortune on themselves? Wicked creatures reaping their own comeuppance — that’s cause for celebration across the realm!”

Just listen to that gloating tone of hers.

Old Xin laughed and shook his head, quite helpless. “Look at you, playing the recluse and yet you can’t seem to keep a single copper coin of profit in your pocket all year round.”

Hearing this, Qiqian’er tossed her head with some pride. “Am I really so short on a few scraps of coin? Hurry up and tell me — how did the Tan family provoke the Qin Family Estate?”

Old Xin thought for a moment, then said, “The waters run deep in an official household — this old fellow doesn’t know all the particulars. What we’ve heard is that father and son in the Tan family were fighting over power. That Tan Shouyi is a ruthless one — he sent his own son Tan Shiyuan off to a temple to become a monk.

This happened last year. You know Tan Shiyuan’s younger brother, Tan Shize, died? Well, he’d once had a lover — the eldest daughter of the Qin Family Estate. She’s since become a nun, though she took no formal dharma name, calling herself instead ‘Unwavering Devotion.'”

Qiqian’er cut in. “Quite the devoted soul, then.”

Old Xin added a few more pieces of wood to the fire, laughing. “Heh… who in this world isn’t devoted to something? Every person has their weak point. That old Tan family has always been an odd breed. Tan Shiyuan, locked away in the temple against his will, naturally wasn’t content with it. Somehow it occurred to him to send word to Unwavering Devotion, using his brother Tan Shize’s death as bait to lure her.

Hmph! She saved him — and in turn, he tried to silence her for good. He even reached out to an old recluse in the Yuegong Mountain medicine valley, having her poisoned with a soul-collecting draught meant to seal her meridians. He never imagined she’d manage to escape — she turned around and caused an uproar within the Daliang palace for days on end.

You already know what happened after that — the chaos went on until Qin Zhuo arrived in the capital and settled the matter. That’s how your restricted-boundary stele came to be. This old fellow’s role today is simply running errands, lending a hand. I’ve passed on the message — that’s the whole of it. If you’re unwilling, what more can I do? As for now, Unwavering Devotion is chasing Tan Shiyuan across the realm to kill him, while Qin Zhuo has taken up a feud with Yuegong Mountain. Our Baiquan Mountain wants no part in any of it.”

Hearing all this, Qiqian’er found it almost unbelievable — never had she imagined that the trouble her own family suffered last year traced its roots all the way back to this.

She poked at the fire a few times with a stick and gave a soft snort. “What do they call this? The wicked grinding down the wicked? No wonder our Qingfeng stage has been quiet ever since the New Year — Yuegong Mountain hasn’t come around stirring up trouble either.”

Old Xin shook his head slightly. “Hard to say. This generation of the Qin family is only middling — not that I look down on Qin Zhuo, but judging character against prospects, the Qin family’s next generation lacks staying power, and Unwavering Devotion is consumed by obsession. Yuegong Mountain, meanwhile, has numbers and strength on its side — who wins is anyone’s guess. Sooner or later, the old grudge between our Baiquan Mountain and them is bound to come to a head.”

Qiqian’er nodded and stood, stretching. “Let it come, whenever it comes — leave them to it. You’ve done well settling these two matters, and we’ll stay out of both sides. But as for that Tan family — I intend to add fuel to their fire.”

Old Xin stood too, asking, “And how does Your Highness intend to add fuel?”

Qiqian’er looked down toward the foot of the mountain. “This bit of news you brought me — does the court know?”

Old Xin blinked, thought for a moment. “Which news? About the Tan family?”

Qiqian’er shook her head. “The matter of Unwavering Devotion causing an uproar in the Daliang palace.”

Old Xin shook his head. “Of course the court doesn’t know. Jiu Si Tang may look impressive on the surface, but when it comes to sources of information, it’s still our Beggars’ Sect that has the edge. Your meaning is — you want the court to learn of this?”

Qiqian’er nodded. “Exactly! Are those high officials drawing their stipends for nothing? Besides, this is a grave crime — startling the imperial presence itself! It’s the New Year, after all — I shouldn’t have to have fought that battle of mine for nothing, don’t you agree?”

Old Xin nodded with a smile. “Understood. I’ll pass along some word to Liuhao and the others — might as well hand our own people a ladder to advancement while we’re at it. Do you think it’s a suitable choice?”

Qiqian’er laughed softly. “Couldn’t be more suitable…”

Early Qingming, late Guyu — the time for spring planting falls between the two rains. Melons planted first, beans planted after, and the silent nourishing rain brings the sparrow buds along.

In the blink of an eye, Guyu passed and the start of summer arrived, and all across the streets of Yanjing, people were drinking the “pre-rain” tea harvested before the season’s rains.

On another ordinary morning, just as the eastern market of the inner city was opening for business, and the shopfronts along the street had only just taken down their door panels, before the goods had even been set out on the counters, the neighborhood heard a great burst of screaming and cries for help coming from the adjacent Flower Street.

A curious shopkeeper, clutching his shop’s door panel, glanced left and right, but before long, out of a narrow alley rolled a massive, bloated, maggot-like shape.

The thing was fat and enormous, and by the time it had rolled to the shopkeepers’ doorsteps, each one hiding behind their own door, they finally made out that it was, strangely, a person — dressed above the waist in a white silk undergarment, and below the waist, wrapped bizarrely in what appeared to be a woman’s petticoat.

The figure, mountainous in bulk with a belly like the Buddha Maitreya’s, face covered in blood, expression one of pure terror, staggered and stumbled along, crying out for help without pause, his voice already hoarse by the time he reached them — and only then could they see clearly: it was a fat monk, bearing two distinct scars from ordination marks on his scalp.

A single mark on the crown was called Qingxin, given in the first year after ordination; two marks meant Lefu.

Clearly a newly ordained monk — but why so irreverent? Having already taken vows, how dare he spend the previous night at a brothel?

Each shopkeeper hurriedly latched their door panels shut, and seeing the monk covered in blood, dared not move, holding the doors firmly shut while peeking out cautiously, watching him drip blood in a trail as he pounded on one door after another, crying for help.

They were all peaceable merchants who valued good relations — who would dare get involved? From a distance it looked as though his nose had simply been broken; but peering closer through the gap in the door panels, they were horrified to see that this fat monk’s nose had actually been sliced clean off.

No one opened a door, no one dared lend a hand, and the blood kept flowing, until at last the monk collapsed in the street. Only once he’d fallen did the nearby shopkeepers see clearly that all five fingers of his left hand were missing as well — old wounds, for as he collapsed, those severed stumps didn’t bleed at all, only the fresh new wounds did.

From a distance came the shouts of street-patrolling constables. Just as each household breathed a sigh of relief, a white-robed nun came flying down from a rooftop into the street. Carrying a precious sword, she walked directly up to the monk and said with a cold smile, “Tan Shiyuan, I know you can hear me. Go home now and nurse your wounds properly — this is the sixth blade. Once you’ve recovered somewhat, find somewhere else to hide. In three days, this humble nun will come find you again…”

With that, the nun leapt backward and vanished. By the time the patrolling officers arrived, all they heard was the fat monk wailing, “Father! Save me! Save me…”