Ever since Chen Dasheng’s return, life had inexplicably grown easier. Though everyone knew perfectly well these men were of no practical use around the house, oddly enough, once you set them down at home like a piece of furniture, the place finally looked complete — like a proper household.
With the fathers all back home, the matter of Yu Family’s eldest daughter’s marriage was finally put on the schedule. However much Yu Qingguan doted on this daughter, she was eighteen this year — there was no holding on to her any longer.
Finding a husband for the eldest daughter wasn’t something Qiqian’er needed to worry over. Yu Qingguan was doing well these days — he had prospects, an official position, no concubines or children born of concubines in the household. Though he’d started out as a bonded servant, they weren’t trying to marry into some great aristocratic clan — they just wanted someone reasonably suitable.
But even “reasonably suitable” turned out to involve quite a few twists and turns.
At first, Ding Yuniang had been quite envious of Zhang Wanru — really, what woman wouldn’t envy Zhang Wanru? Her natal family lived in the next alley over, her husband had a proper post, and she’d married into the Tong family without suffering the slightest hardship, taking her seat in the main hall as the wife who managed the household. Three years in, she had a son and a daughter — a perfect match of characters.
And yet, was their marriage truly as good as everyone said? Other people’s talk was just idle chatter, but Zhang Wanru, married to Tong Jintai all these years, had things of her own she couldn’t tell outsiders. Namely, the things she liked, her husband couldn’t understand; and when she wanted to know about her husband’s past, the “dead dog” wouldn’t say a word.
She had her own knots to untangle, and Tong Jintai had his too. He was baffled — his wife would rise before dawn to do her hair and makeup, layer upon layer of brand-new clothes, and while there was still hardly anyone about in Qinwei Alley, she’d insist on carrying a big basket and dragging him all the way up Baiquan Mountain, to some deserted spot — to have him gather twigs and boil tea?
Was she out of her mind?
Heavens, he’d only just managed to escape sleeping under open sky by the Tan River and come home — all he wanted was to laze about on the kang for the rest of his life, being waited on hand and foot. Why did he have to live like this instead?
Yet he didn’t dare say so — he had to praise it. Even though his wife’s posture facing the wind was lovely, and the poems she recited to him over a cup of tea in her rapture — well, fine, he wouldn’t judge; he couldn’t tell good poetry from bad anyway. But Cui Erdian had told him: if you’re going to say anything, you must say it’s good! Whatever you do, say it’s good! Say you don’t like it, and you’re dead!
Clearly, he’d “died” more than a few times already.
In this business of married life, aside from the part you put on show for others, the rest was simply something you had to resign yourself to enduring. There was no such thing as a perfect marriage — every family knew its own business best. Yu Qingguan didn’t dare even think about it, and Ding Yuniang didn’t think much about it either — though their eldest daughter often said she wanted a husband like her father… pah! Not a chance!
As long as there was a single male elder in Qinwei Alley still drawing breath, they’d all collectively hope their own daughters would find husbands who were dependable and a bit timid — even one as timid as Chen Siniu, they wouldn’t mind. They didn’t expect much ambition from a son-in-law.
Human hearts truly were complicated.
Ever since the eldest daughter and her mother had moved to Qinwei Alley, with an unmarried young lady like her sitting there, matchmakers naturally hadn’t been in short supply — after all, her father was a proper sixth-rank official at the Ministry of War.
Good prospective sons-in-law weren’t lacking either — even legitimate youngest sons of first- or second-rank officials were on offer. But given how the eldest daughter was… they didn’t dare let her marry into that.
Before age fifteen, all she’d known was farming and housework — a girl from a village who’d never even left it, with barely more perspective than a frog at the bottom of a well. However good a son-in-law you found her, she wouldn’t be able to hold onto him; however large a dowry she brought, she wouldn’t be able to protect it.
That was precisely why, once the eldest daughter came to Qinwei Alley, Qiqian’er, Zhang Wanru, and later Madam Lu, Madam Pan, and Madam Chai, the moment they got hold of her, would grow anxious and set about teaching her as if their lives depended on it.
Even at the various weddings held for the elders of Qinwei Alley, Zhang Wanru made sure to bring along the eldest and second daughters from start to finish — how to keep the accounts straight, how to send out invitations, how to receive guests, how to arrange the servants, how to speak human words to humans and ghost words to ghosts — none of this was hidden from the girls; everything they needed to know, they were taught.
A year and a half earlier, Zhang Wanru’s mother, Madam Dong, had acted as matchmaker, arranging a match with the youngest son of a certain Overseer Niu from the Judicial Commissioner’s office in Qingfeng Prefecture — a boy named Niu Zhu. The moment word reached Qiqian’er and the Yu family about the boy’s situation, they agreed on the spot.
And why was that?
The root of it went back to this: the eldest daughter had only begun to enjoy any comfort from around age fifteen onward. Before that, for fifteen years, her father had been missing, and the household had been held up entirely by her mother’s efforts alone, while relatives next door constantly exploited them — all of which had forged this child into someone who could endure any hardship.
Simply put, however much suffering or bullying this girl endured, she wouldn’t say a word about it — which meant, if you crossed her, she’d hold the grudge forever.
After three years of tempering, what had this girl actually learned? She recognized perhaps two or three hundred characters, could follow the plots of operas, could keep a tidy household ledger, could manage the handful of servants in her own courtyard — any more than that, and things would fall into chaos. She didn’t know how to have fun either, hadn’t developed any skill at the kind of social maneuvering wives used to support their husbands’ standing. She’d seen the games the young ladies of the inner chambers played, but whenever she went out, however much money Qiqian’er gave her to spend, she’d bring most of it right back — sometimes she’d even quietly mooch off others instead.
Her outlook was no different from the old ladies’: why bother with all that, when you could just as well raise some chickens and ducks for the eggs?
Why, the moment Madam Dong mentioned the Niu family, did Qiqian’er and the others think it sounded good? First of all, Overseer Niu was a proper seventh-rank official who’d entered officialdom through the imperial examinations under the previous dynasty — and he remained seventh-rank to this day, likely would remain seventh-rank for the rest of his life. That made it a reasonably matched union.
The reason this man had managed to safely serve as an official across two dynasties wasn’t because he had powerful connections — it was precisely because he himself was entirely unremarkable. Simply put, he had no great prospects to speak of.
So for the eldest daughter to marry into that family counted as marrying somewhat beneath her station — meaning his family had no room to be picky.
There was also the fact that the Niu family had many children — six sons in the household. This Niu Zhu was the sixth son, and with so many brothers and too few family resources to go around, he’d relied on his own wits and had ended up in the same place as Yu Shoutian.
It seemed that on the day Qingfeng City fell under heaven’s punishment and the Daliang army entered the city, with no one else available to use, this boy had wandered near the army camp and quietly ingratiated himself with a certain official, running errands and carrying messages for him, boiling hot water every day and carrying it with his fifth brother to the camp.
As luck would have it, the new dynasty needed men, and there was chaos everywhere — the more he did this, the more that official felt he couldn’t accept the boy’s service for nothing, and said, “Boy, I won’t let you serve me for free — just follow along with me.” That’s how Niu Zhu and his fifth brother ended up in the Qingfeng Right Guard.
That’s right — Niu Zhu and the eldest daughter’s younger brother, Shoutian, were both petty officers managing about ten men each, just barely within the official ranks.
But Shoutian had relied on family connections to get there; this one had made it on his own.
With the new emperor and new dynasty, His Majesty had granted titles and positions generously across the realm, and this Niu Zhu and his fifth brother had entered officialdom through that.
The more the eldest daughter was someone without half a bucket’s worth of experience, the less fit she was to be sent off to harm some other family — she was someone with no opinions of her own, who simply went along with the crowd; and Niu Zhu, at least, had opinions of his own, which counted for something.
The Niu family had one more great advantage — though others said that when parents wanted to treat their children fairly they had to split resources evenly, sometimes not managing anything at all worked out just as well, if not better. Truly, that Overseer Niu was entirely unremarkable, without ability or ambition — but heaven, apparently deciding he wasn’t unlucky enough already, had blessed him with a wife capable of bearing children, who gave him six sons and three daughters, including two sets of twins — and most terrifying of all, raised every single one of them to adulthood!
What could an incorruptible seventh-rank official on a sesame-seed salary possibly manage? Keeping nine children fed and warm without letting them starve or freeze — that alone made him a good father.
In the end, this old couple simply gave up managing anything at all — the moment each child came of age, they’d split the family assets, hand over thirty strings of cash per head, no house included, and once you were grown, you were on your own to find your own way. After all, there was no surplus grain in this household — but hadn’t they raised you well enough that you’d still be filial to your parents in their old age, right?
The second generation of the Niu family — first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth — had all studied under their father as small children until fourteen or fifteen, then been sent off to make their own way in the world.
Overseer Niu himself had entered officialdom through the imperial examinations, so he was capable of teaching his sons. And because taking the exams meant staying close to Yandu, the family lived in Qingfeng Prefecture — which kept costs low. Above Niu Zhu, his five older brothers included two who’d passed as licentiates under the previous dynasty and one preliminary examination candidate, all of whom had established their own households through their own efforts.
In this day and age, the seeds of scholarship might not bring great wealth, but at least they wouldn’t starve.
The year before, Madam Dong had gone out to the shops and happened to run into Niu Zhu’s mother, Madam Shan. They shared the same surname pool — a Niu (ox) family and a Shan (mountain) family together made quite the pile, as it were.
Both being former officials of the previous dynasty, they knew each other, and Madam Shan had happily told Madam Dong that her sixth boy had bought a plot of land on Quanqian Street and was in the process of building a house — and that’s what had first put the idea in Madam Dong’s mind.
In Madam Dong’s view, a well-matched pair looked something like this: the Yu family were farmers, the Niu family were poor. The Niu family had many children, so the Yu family wouldn’t be picky about status. The Niu family was well-established locally, while the Yu family were newcomers rising from humble origins — Niu Zhu had set up his own household separate from his brothers, and the Yu family lived across the street from him — plus, with so many siblings having split off on their own, there’d be that much more solidarity among them, all pulling in the same direction… anyway, something along those lines.
Beyond all that, Yu Shoutian himself had said that Niu Zhu was a good sort — anyone who spent time with him felt at ease. Making one’s way in Yandu required connections you didn’t have, but getting by in Qingfeng was no problem at all for him.
That alone was already quite something — who was expecting him to rise to great heights anyway?
And so, with Madam Dong as matchmaker, the two sides met and found themselves a satisfactory match.
Now that Yu Qingguan was back, and the period of national mourning had passed, and the eight-room house across the street that Niu Zhu had fixed up was ready, it was time to set the date.
This would be the first wedding among the younger generation in Qinwei Alley, and from the matriarchs on down, everyone was putting their hearts into making it dignified and lively.
Yu Qingguan felt not the slightest reluctance to let her go — in his eyes, his daughter was grown, and however much he doted on her, holding her back now would only be doing her wrong.
And so, amid all this bustle, early one morning, the old matriarch left the old family home and called on Old Madam Jiang next door — the two old ladies, each with a cane in hand, set off without bringing many attendants, strolling leisurely toward the Yu residence.
At their age, what else was there to do but wander about looking for excitement and spreading gossip? The wedding was three days off, and the family was busy preparing the eldest daughter’s dowry.
The two old ladies walked hand in hand into the Yu residence, and the moment they entered the courtyard, they saw the Yu family’s own old matriarch sitting there, her face full of indignation.
These three had known each other for ages, cooking porridge side by side — each knew exactly what kind of person the others were. The Chen family matriarch, having been cured of her stinginess by Qiqian’er, had by now graduated to mocking others for being stingy.
Back during the period when the Yu family matriarch had been giving out porridge, their own household hadn’t even bothered making dinner some evenings — they’d simply wait for that free hot bowl. And let’s not forget, she hadn’t been shy about taking some of the pickled vegetables the nuns made either.
Fortunately Shoutian was sensible — every time she took something first, the boy would follow behind and return double.
Seeing the Yu family matriarch so indignant, the Chen matriarch pointed at her mockingly: “Well now, whose foolish daughter is this? With such a grand young lord looking after you, you wouldn’t dare toss out even a clod of dirt from your own doorstep, better keep an eye on it! Can’t even sleep easy at night, ha!”
She had some nerve mocking others for being stingy. This Yu family matriarch was a generation below the other two — she had to call them “aunt.”
In the courtyard, the betrothal gifts the Niu family had sent the day before filled half the yard. Qingfeng’s customs were quite elaborate — the poor gave what the poor could, the rich gave what the rich could — and this courtyard held a decidedly middling betrothal set: sixty strings of cash sent over, six loads of assorted grain, six loads of fruit, a pair of wild geese, a piece of deerskin, and modest loads each of wine, jewelry, fabric, and tea…
In short, Niu Zhu had given everything he had to marry his bride — nothing lacking in the proper forms.
And yet, in a middling household of Qingfeng Prefecture, what filled this courtyard would only be considered average.
But who were these three old ladies standing in the courtyard? The Yu family’s own old matriarch had been traded for a single sheep. The Chen family matriarch hadn’t even fetched a sheep — just a few hundred coins. And Old Madam Jiang here had been a purchased concubine.
None of these three had ever seen the traditional three letters and six rites of a proper betrothal.
The attending maids moved quickly, bringing out chairs at once for the two old ladies to sit. The three of them gazed at the courtyard full of lacquered, red-silk-wrapped betrothal loads, a wave of envy rising up from deep within.
Old Madam Jiang: “How lovely, red as far as the eye can see.”
The Chen family matriarch: “This eldest girl is marrying into a nest of riches — she’ll be eating well for the rest of her life.”
If only they hadn’t said that. The moment they did, the Yu family matriarch’s heart shattered like a knife through it, and with tears welling in her eyes, she leaned in and murmured to them: “Old aunties, you know me — I’m the most reasonable person there is… there’s never been anything like this. I told them, even coming to Qingfeng, we should still follow our old hometown customs, but not a single soul in this whole courtyard would listen to me…”
Old Madam Jiang, whose heart was as soft as cotton, immediately pulled out her handkerchief to wipe her tears: “What’s this now? Who’s upset our eldest nephew’s wife so badly? Call Qingguan out here, I’ll give him a talking-to for you!”
The Yu matriarch pouted: “He wouldn’t listen to me anyway, he…”
Old Madam Jiang, having realized by now exactly what kind of person she was dealing with, cut in: “Old sister, don’t blame Qingguan — ask her first what the custom back in her hometown even was.”
Old Madam Jiang nodded along: “That’s right, that’s right — what exactly is the custom back home?”
The Yu matriarch shot up from her seat and shouted righteously toward the back courtyard: “It’s not that leaving the old hometown means abandoning the rules — go back and ask around, there’s no such thing! Raising a daughter all these years for nothing! Whose family doesn’t keep half the betrothal gifts for the natal family?! Huh?!”
Having said this, something in her seemed to shift entirely, and with tears streaming down her face she turned to Old Madam Jiang: “Old auntie, I’m really not being unreasonable — with all these things, all these things! I told her to leave some for her little brother, he’s not so young himself either… Our family isn’t in the business of selling off daughters, is it? So why, why won’t this work? Not a word from her, not even one word thrown my way…”
The Chen family matriarch thought this eldest nephew’s wife had a point. Old Madam Jiang, meanwhile, was startled — what did she mean, “keep half”? You have the nerve to keep half of that for yourself?
The Yu matriarch, full of grievance, began scolding one by one all those who “didn’t know how to run a household properly.” She’d just finished dressing down Yu Qingguan and was about to move on to her half-deaf daughter-in-law, when a voice came from the courtyard gate: “Old auntie, you can stop crying now… what time is it, and here you are still making trouble — aren’t you tired?”
Only one person would dare speak like that.
Qiqian’er strode into the courtyard quickly, a child in each arm. Seeing her own two old ladies there, she didn’t stand on ceremony either — handing each of them a grandchild, she said: “Ancestors, if you’ve got the energy to grab your own grandkids, can’t we leave the old auntie’s business be?”
The old ladies doted on their grandchildren so much that they happily took the children, laughing: “What are you on about, child? Can’t we even ask about it?”
Qiqian’er was formidable — she’d tamed her own family’s matriarch into perfect obedience, and Old Madam Jiang, moving in later, had followed suit, learning to behave herself since she herself had no opinions of her own to begin with.
This was an old lady who’d spent most of her life never being treated as a proper elder — even in the palace, back when both old ladies were still there, the first bowl of food had always gone to Empress Dowager Zheng first.
While Empress Dowager Zheng ate, Old Madam Jiang had to stand and watch — and mustn’t feel wronged about it either, for that was simply the rule. Of all the wives His Majesty had taken, however humbly born, they were all outwardly filial enough — but whatever they gave the two dowagers, Old Madam Jiang’s share was always a rank lower or a portion less than Dowager Zheng’s.
The resentment in her heart had built up, stitch by stitch, into a whole garment.
Old Madam Jiang could sense the contempt behind their faces — though none of them dared show it openly anymore, it had only been a few years since they had.
In truth, she wasn’t even angry. Her greatest ambition in life had simply been to sit in the main hall and be acknowledged, just once, as someone’s real mother — and even that, she could no longer have.
But here, things were different. Her status here was the same as the Chen family matriarch’s — both of them were the sworn foster mothers of the prince, She Qingling.
And so, the filial offerings every wife in the alley gave her and the Chen matriarch were exactly identical — fair down to the last pin.
For the sake of that fairness, Old Madam Jiang loved Qinwei Alley dearly.
Fearing Qiqian’er’s sharp tongue might offend an outsider, Old Madam Jiang smiled sweetly and apologized to the Yu matriarch on her behalf: “Don’t hold it against her — this one of mine always means well, not a scrap of ill intent in her. Everything in this household, inside and out, isn’t it all thanks to her? We don’t expect anyone to praise her for it — she’s just sharp-tongued but soft-hearted. If you hold it against her, that’d make you the petty one.”
That single sentence dug three separate holes at once.
Having said her piece, she turned back to Qiqian’er with a face full of tenderness: “Child, how can you talk to your old auntie like that?”
Qiqian’er’s temper these days was quite good — especially in front of this particular old lady.
She crouched down, slipping a little shoe onto the foot of Gennu, who’d wriggled his way to the ground, and said in a low voice: “Our son-in-law holds an official post, and Qingguan is an official too — and you want to keep half? If word got out that Brother Qingguan and even Shoutian saved back half the betrothal gifts for their own son’s future needs — imagine what that would do to their names? Are we really that poor as a family, that we can’t keep up appearances?”
She wasn’t young anymore either, and there was no teaching her at this point — best to just say it plainly, or she wouldn’t understand at all.
Old Madam Jiang nodded along: “That’s right, that’s right!”
The Yu matriarch pouted: “That’s not right at all — my own family’s things, and outsiders say they don’t count…”
Qiqian’er ignored her and simply stood, turning instead to Shi Jie and Old Madam Shi, who were watching the second gate: “Go quickly to the seventh young master’s courtyard and have the eldest young lady’s furniture brought over — it all needs a coat of oil and polish tonight. Then go to Jixiang’s place, get the tally, and take out red cloth from the storehouse for the decorations… two bolts? Three bolts!”
These were all things prepared long ago — a camphorwood cabinet one day, a set of redwood tables the next — ever since Yu Qingguan had started handing over his salary, Qiqian’er had been setting aside one piece of furniture per child, waiting for exactly this day.
The Yu matriarch’s sharp ears caught the word “furniture” and she leapt up: “What furniture? What eldest young lady? What two bolts, three bolts?”
As if suddenly understanding something, the old lady’s bottom hit the ground as she collapsed off her chair, her mouth gaping open, gasping silent breaths for a long while, as if about to expire on the spot — and yet unable to actually die, she wailed out after a long stretch of choking sobs: “You house-ruining, family-wrecking, uncivilized savages — I don’t want to live anymore…”
Oh dear — everyone else had been worked to the bone these past few days, and this old lady managed to be everywhere at once. You couldn’t even call her a bad person, really — she meant well, she was just someone who’d never seen much money in her life.
Getting to be old herself one day too, Qiqian’er understood exactly what was going through this old lady’s mind — but what could be done about it? If a whole pile of furniture were carried in and this old lady laid eyes on it, forget just her granddaughter’s wedding — even at her grandson’s wedding, she’d throw herself down in front of the sedan chair. Anyone who dared touch the Yu family’s wealth would be risking her very life.
There was truly no reasoning with her — so what to do? Rely on Yuniang? Yuniang was thinking the exact same thing herself…
Qiqian’er glanced left and right, and her eyes landed on the utterly guileless Old Madam Jiang. Her eyes lit up, and she gathered her skirts and crouched right down.
Old Madam Jiang had just been playing with the children — she’d played with little ones like Xiaoliu back in the palace too, and always so carefully, terrified that a wrong word might teach the child something that would make people laugh at him later — but talking about immortals and deities was surely never wrong.
And the Chen family children were all hers to boss around freely — truly, she felt close to them. People and their affinities were a matter of fate, and Old Madam Jiang now split her time half in Qinwei Alley and half at the temple.
Just as she was enjoying herself, Old Madam Jiang felt her dear foster-granddaughter-in-law lean her head right onto her knee.
It hit her like a bolt of thunder straight to the soul. The old dowager went numb on the spot.
In decades — apart from His Majesty, little Xiaoliu — no one in this world had ever been so affectionately close to her.
Qiqian’er gritted her teeth and, twisting her fingers together like a coy braid, pleaded with Old Madam Jiang in a voice that disgusted even herself: “A’Nai~ ah!”
Old Madam Jiang gave a start of delight. The old matriarch glared daggers — you traitorous fence-sitter.
“My dear child? Tell me!”
If Qiqian’er wanted to enter the palace as an imperial consort, she’d issue the decree for her on the spot.
Qiqian’er broke out in a cold sweat inwardly, and pointed at the Yu matriarch, who was gearing up for another fit, and said plaintively: “Look at her, A’Nai~ I’m worn to the bone, and Yuniang was made to cry just yesterday. Please, manage her for me.”
Old Madam Jiang nodded eagerly — of course, of course! This was nothing at all.
She patted Qiqian’er’s hand comfortingly, then turned with sudden gravity toward the Yu matriarch, saying coolly: “Hm? How dare you!”
The Yu matriarch, just about to kick up another fuss, suddenly felt as though an invisible mountain had come crashing down upon her.
She froze, staring blankly at Old Madam Jiang, not even daring to cry anymore.
But Old Madam Jiang wasn’t done yet — she turned and called toward the gate: “Qiu-zi.”
Qiu Le came trotting over cheerfully, bowing low: “Here, here, Ancestress, at your command.”
Old Madam Jiang pointed at the Yu matriarch with a face full of tenderness: “She’s young yet, doesn’t know much — you go teach her a thing or two. We’re all family here, don’t go frightening her.”
Eunuch Qiu understood at once.
In truth, Old Madam Jiang herself had no idea what exactly he understood by that — but whenever she had a wish, all she had to do was give the order, and it would be handled.
And sure enough, Eunuch Qiu had quite the method. From that day on, he arrived at dawn every morning with a stack of local Qingfeng betrothal-gift lists and dowry lists, reading them aloud to the Yu matriarch without pause… after all, she’d claimed not to know — best make sure she understood it thoroughly, once and for all, so she’d never cause trouble again.
Whenever the Yu matriarch refused to listen, Eunuch Qiu would give her a little gold nugget, and she’d quiet right down and listen.
And so it went, on and on and on and on, reading it out over and over… all the way until the day the eldest daughter left for her wedding, by which point the Yu matriarch, utterly exhausted, was helped out of the back hall in full wedding finery, still dazed, half-convinced she was dreaming, with no thought left to cause any more trouble at all.