Outside Yandu city, a funeral procession was being held—over a hundred canopy tents set up, each grander than the last, yet how many people were truly grieving for the dead? Setting others aside, Qiqian’er, who had been busy for two days, didn’t even know who Liu Zhenzhi was. All she knew was that the emperor had lost a brother-in-law, and she secretly thought this was someone without good fortune—born into wealth and privilege yet unable to enjoy it, dying before he’d even finished a good meal…

Most people thought this way, without much pity in their hearts.

In the blink of an eye, early winter arrived. The snow came early this year. Just as the ice flowers began to fall, Gennu and An’er went wild together—the two children soaked in the medicine prepared next door, which was truly excellent. Come winter’s changing weather, even Gennu, whose constitution was slightly weaker, didn’t cough even once.

They weren’t afraid of the cold either, running wild in the courtyard like unbridled horses, impossible to carry back inside. Every day they tossed themselves about until steam rose from their heads, and only then, on the verge of tears, would someone finally manage to carry them in—three changes of clothes a day weren’t even enough.

They were simply too mischievous. Chen Dasheng wanted to discipline them, but the two family matriarchs wouldn’t allow it, and worried the children would catch a chill from the wind, so they had someone make windscreens out of sheepskin, specifically for the children to play in the snow while blocking the wind.

And so, once the two little ones had wrecked all the snow in the courtyard, they’d go out searching for more snow to play in. Four little hooves would head out, followed by over twenty attendants—half of them dedicated solely to managing the windscreens. Just those screens alone used over a hundred pelts.

Even so, others quietly remarked that though this was supposedly the future young prince, no wealthy family raised children this way—letting them run so wild. Weren’t they afraid the children would freeze and come to harm?

But Qiqian’er didn’t mind at all. She felt that life was rather bitter, and if there were ever years to feel carefree, it was only these few. Her son should have everything, and he ought to have some days of such ease and freedom.

The weather had turned cold again, so the various households could no longer host their opera banquets. If one had the refined taste to go admire plum blossoms or form a poetry society, that too would be delightful—but such pastimes could never take root in Qinwei Lane, especially since most people there had no scholarly learning in their bellies. Even when other families held such elegant gatherings, people here felt too embarrassed and out of place to attend.

The temple’s winter conditions weren’t adequate, so the two matriarchs had taken to staying at home most of the time. Fearing they’d grow lonely, Qiqian’er invited the most popular female storyteller in Qingfeng city to come entertain them regularly.

Though their wealth was still fairly recent, women naturally have short attention spans for staying idle, and since everyone had spare money on hand, they often held small banquets to entertain guests—gatherings costing anywhere from a dozen strings of cash to a hundred. And so, just a few days into winter, books like Record of the Gold Hairpin and Twelve Ranks, popular in the marketplace, had already grown tiresome to hear.

Qiqian’er was someone with connections reaching far and wide behind the scenes—every beggar in the city served as her network of informants. When she heard there was a new book, she immediately invited the two elderly ladies over to liven things up.

Originally she’d only meant for their own family women to enjoy it privately, but the elder matriarch loved to boast, and had already spread word early on that whenever a new book came out, it would surely be performed first at her house. Sure enough, today it had arrived.

And so, early that morning, Madam Yang, Madam Wan, Madam Gao, Madam Lü, Madam Huang, along with Madam Li, Madam Kou, and Madam Luo’s Dingxiang, all sat in the front courtyard’s side chambers. Before the storytelling even began, they were already giggling and laughing together in a merry cluster.

The front courtyards of the houses in Qinwei Lane were all fairly spacious. The western wing, regardless of how many rooms it spanned, was mostly used as a study. But since this household’s young master hadn’t yet grown up, Qiqian’er had converted it into a place for listening to storytelling in the winter.

Today the elder matriarch wore a plain dark red garment. On her head, ears, and arms, there wasn’t a single piece of jewelry. Now she only cared for comfort and looseness in her clothing—gold and silver trinkets no longer held her interest.

She was now truly wealthy, yet she could no longer go out to see the world, and so those bits of gold and silver had simply become just that—things.

Madam Lü and the others, on the other hand, came dressed in resplendent gold every time. Whatever was good, they wore on their bodies, even those who were widows did the same, and since they held money in their own hands, they felt completely at ease doing so.

Thinking back to the past compared with now, each of them was now the matriarch of a grand household, and their manner of carrying themselves, coming and going, had taken on quite an air.

Before the storytelling began, as was customary, Qiqian’er and Dingxiang had to bring out their own children for the matriarchs to dote on. Once the old ladies had finished fussing over them, the household servants would line up and lead each family’s young masters and misses off to play.

The elder matriarch watched the children leave with a face full of tenderness. Once they were out of sight, Grandmother Jiang smiled and asked Dingxiang, “I heard you wanted to wean your son, and your mother-in-law wasn’t willing? Did you two even quarrel over it?” She’s getting on in years, you mustn’t keep acting this way with her.”

As for this Grandmother Jiang, the household truly treated her as their own A’Nai, so trivial matters, good or bad, were never hidden from her. She was willing to listen and get involved, even offer guidance sometimes.

Dingxiang liked her the most for it.

Hearing the old lady ask this, Dingxiang laughed and said, “A’Nai must have heard my mother-in-law complaining to you about it. Don’t listen to her nonsense—I wouldn’t dare talk back to her. Actually, it’s because the child’s feeding schedule got too close together, and Physician Cheng said he’d help regulate things for me this winter. So, I’ve been taking medicine, and that’s why I weaned him. But we’ve also hired a wet nurse at home, so he’s certainly not going hungry.”

Grandmother Jiang, hearing this, was reassured and said, “Ah, that’s fine then. Let her say what she wants, you just listen—every family is really the same, it won’t cost you a piece of your flesh. Better to let the little melon hang on the vine a few more days, so he’ll grow up sturdier later. Your family certainly isn’t short on means, so just keep two wet nurses on hand, and make sure the little one’s mouth is always full, that’s what matters.”

The elder matriarch also nodded repeatedly. She was anxious about her new book, and asked the storyteller who had long been waiting below, “Is what you’re performing today the new book?”

The female storyteller hurriedly rose to answer, “Reporting to the elder madam, indeed it is. We only just finished rehearsing it—Qingfeng Manor hasn’t even had its first performance yet, and we came straight to your esteemed household first. I’m not just flattering you, but your household’s madam here truly is something else!”

She raised her thumb in praise.

The elder matriarch naturally looked around proudly and asked, “So what story does this new book tell?”

The storyteller said, “Elder madam, this new book of ours is called The Clay Bodhisattva.”

As soon as she said this, the room fell silent. Qiqian’er, noticing the two matriarchs’ displeased expressions, covered her mouth and laughed, saying, “Oh, elder ladies, you two only remember the saying about the clay bodhisattva crossing the river, unable even to protect itself—but you’ve forgotten that in this world, aside from the great temples that can afford golden Buddhas, or transport stone Buddhas, which small shrine anywhere isn’t housing a clay bodhisattva instead…”

Everyone realized this was indeed true, and burst into laughter together. Before they’d even finished laughing, they unexpectedly heard someone outside the door ask in a light, cheerful tone, “Yo! What’s got everyone so lively? Have the matriarchs found something amusing? Won’t you share it with your grandson too? Let me have a laugh as well?”

Chen Dasheng’s voice, full of amusement, carried in from outside, though he didn’t enter right away—not until the elder matriarch checked that nothing improper was visible in the room, and then called out, “It’s freezing out there, hurry up and come in! These are all aunties you’ve known for ages. Life’s been dull enough as it is—when did we start needing to keep family apart with so many people in between?”

Only then did Chen Dasheng step into the room. Seeing a room full of married women, he nodded and smiled casually all around without much concern, then bowed in greeting to the two matriarchs. After that, he asked, “I heard how lively it was out here in the courtyard—what were the elder ladies laughing about?”

The elder matriarch shifted on the arhat couch to make room for her grandson to sit. She grabbed him a handful of fruit to eat, while Grandmother Jiang also bustled about, ordering someone to warm a hand stove for Chen Dasheng, and having someone bring a small cushion to cover his legs. Only then did she point at the storyteller and say, “We were just asking about that. And here you are—what, not busy today? You’re back early?”

“Ah, not busy today.” Chen Dasheng didn’t mention anything about his official duties, just laughingly changed the subject and asked the storyteller, “What story are you telling?”

The female storyteller had visited countless wealthy households, and often frequented Quanhou Street too, but today this household seemed rather strange—this young master, how old was he, still wandering around the inner quarters?

Hearing the young master’s question, she hurriedly replied, “Reporting to young master…”

Before she could finish, the whole room burst into laughter. The elder matriarch, especially, pointed proudly at Chen Dasheng and said, “Wrong, wrong! This is our household’s Fourth Master. The ones just carried out are the young masters and misses. This one here looks young-faced, but he’s long since been working for His Majesty—young master, indeed… you’re killing me with laughter.”

Chen Dasheng worked as a covert scout, and his beard simply couldn’t grow in properly regardless. Combined with his young age—though he’d returned from the windswept frontier, he’d also been pampered in this wealthy household for several months now—with no facial hair to speak of, he could hardly still be called “young master.”

The storyteller apologized repeatedly, not daring to bring it up again, and simply continued on with The Clay Bodhisattva.

She said, “…Elder madam, this book of ours tells of events from some unknown year, unknown month, unknown day. It tells of a former-dynasty elderly successful examination candidate’s family affairs. That year, this old scholar got into trouble and was thrown into prison. His old wife visited him there, and knowing he was certain to die, and clearly aware that the several children he’d raised were unfilial, he told his old wife: if one day your life becomes hard, go to the old house and find the Buddha niche, and smash the clay bodhisattva—your days will sort themselves out from there. Because he was near death, the examination candidate’s wife paid it no mind, and remained utterly grief-stricken…”

At this point, Chen Dasheng interjected with a laugh, “Alright, alright, this is clearly about the Zhang Guanneng family from Quanqian Street, isn’t it? Still pretending it’s from some unknown year? Heh~ Ah, this is just saving face for the living, that’s all. I thought it’d be some real clay bodhisattva—turns out it’s this one?”

Hearing Chen Dasheng say this, the whole room of women looked at him curiously.

The elder matriarch hurriedly asked, “Yo, is this actually a true story?”

Chen Dasheng thought for a moment, looked at his own grandmother, and finally nodded, saying, “Of course it’s true! Actually, if I mention this person, A’Nai would surely know of him. Remember not long ago how quite a few people died up on Mount Baiquan? It’s connected to that case. This so-called old examination candidate is named Zhang Guanneng—he’s the owner of that thatched cottage on the mountain.”

Grandmother Jiang froze for a moment, then turned to look toward Eunuch Qiu sitting in the corner. Eunuch Qiu, hidden behind a screen, was peering through the thin gauze. He quickly poked his head out to nod at the old empress dowager, then swiftly ducked back into hiding.

Chen Dasheng, not noticing this exchange, continued on: “This old gentleman actually had quite a background. He was a former-dynasty top-three examination graduate, and had even served as a senior instructor at the Imperial Academy. Though he was an official of the former dynasty, he’d held a fourth-rank post and had countless students under him—he was quite a figure.

Unfortunately, his luck ran out. As he aged, he moved from the capital to Quanqian Street, and built a thatched cottage on the mountain behind our place. Because he was the one who hosted that chess gathering that day, where six people died, he was arrested and brought in for questioning. Given his age, he passed away without even enduring formal punishment. This chapter, I believe, tells of what happened to the old madam after the old gentleman’s death…”

Reaching this point, he thought of how tragic the outcome had been, and suddenly didn’t want to continue.

But the aunties present were already drawn in, and pressed him to continue all together, especially Grandmother Jiang, who even stuffed a cup of tea into Chen Dasheng’s hands.

Chen Dasheng, with no way out, simply said briefly, “Well! Their old house had an ancestral clay bodhisattva. Old Master Zhang hadn’t guessed wrong—the several sons in this family truly were unfilial. Just days after the old man passed, they started treating the old madam harshly. Relatives, neighbors, close friends—none of them were decent people either, every single one behaved the same way. Really, how many feet of cloth could the old madam wear, how many mouthfuls could she eat?

If each family had chipped in just a little, it would’ve been a good reputation for everyone involved—but because the Mount Baiquan case involved imperial relatives, and their family was also entangled with the former dynasty, everyone steered clear of them. And sure enough, the old madam’s children proved truly unfilial—they quietly sold off the house, and left the poor old widow alone in the ancestral home in the capital, in a room with a leaking roof, barely keeping her from starving to death. Only then did the old madam finally remember that clay bodhisattva, and went to find it… hmph, she smashed the clay bodhisattva, and inside was a five-catty golden Buddha!”

The whole room drew in a collective cold breath, feeling both thrilled and vindicated—they assumed this was the resolution.

Now that the old madam had gold in hand, surely her children would come groveling and flattering at her door?

Grandmother Jiang then asked, “Well, that’s good then, that’s good. At least now she has money to protect herself with—she could take that gold and go join any nunnery she pleased, and they’d never turn away her roof and her bowl of vegetarian rice.”

But Chen Dasheng said, “Elder madam, if only it had gone that way. Originally, several senior officials in the Ministry of Rites brought this matter up, saying that a case of a mother starving to death right under the Emperor’s nose reflected poorly on moral education, and needed to be suppressed. But somehow it leaked out anyway, dressed up as happening in some unspecified former year. Heh, but anyone with connections in the yamen could find out the truth with a single question.

What good did the old madam’s money do her, though? The old gentleman was gone, her children couldn’t be relied upon, and even with gold in hand, she still couldn’t protect herself. So you see, raising children properly is no small matter—one misstep in their upbringing, and it’s misery in old age. But she had a mother’s soft heart and couldn’t bear to report her own children, so in the end, this old madam clutched that golden bodhisattva, went to the old gentleman’s grave, and threw herself against it, head-first…”

Qiqian’er, also caught up in the story, drew in a breath and asked, “She died?”

Chen Dasheng sighed, “A grown man can’t even easily kill himself that way—who knows who came up with such a strange notion, that a person could die from just knocking their head? Hmph! Try it and you’ll see… Not to mention she was a frail old woman who’d gone hungry for days. As luck would have it, there happened to be a burial that day, and someone spotted a pool of blood with an old woman clutching a golden bodhisattva—that’s how the whole thing came to light.

Tsk, what good did the golden bodhisattva do her? Her children’s unfilial conduct is a grave crime—so this whole family, except the daughters who’d married out, the sons likely won’t see next autumn. No trial needed—it’s a capital offense, clear as day.”

After Chen Dasheng finished speaking, the whole room fell silent. After a good while, the widowed Madam Yang finally asked, “So… so the old madam, is she still alive?”

Chen Dasheng nodded, then shook his head. “Ah, how to put it… she’s alive, but worse off than dead. The old madam’s maiden family lives right in the capital, and with such a scandal now public, they couldn’t keep pretending not to know either, so they hastily sent a grandnephew to fetch the old auntie back. But the old madam’s completely given up on life—she barely eats a few mouthfuls a day. I don’t think she’ll make it through this winter.”

When he finished, Madam Yang stood up, her face somewhat pale, and said, “This… it’s getting late. This story is too bitter. I… I won’t listen to any more. You two elder ladies, please forgive me, I’ll… I’ll take my leave now.”

After saying this, Madam Yang left with somewhat unsteady steps. The rest of the group had also lost their taste for the story, and each made their excuses to leave.

Once the outside guests had all left, Madam Li and the others also departed with pale faces. Qiqian’er had Jixiang’s family see the storyteller out, and upon returning, complained to Chen Dasheng, “This was supposed to be just a story for fun, and you had to go and turn it into something real. Are you a fool or something?”

Hearing Qiqian’er grumble at her grandson, the elder matriarch wasn’t happy about it, and quickly pulled her eldest grandson close protectively, saying, “What? My grandson didn’t lie about anything—it did happen, didn’t it? Can’t he even speak the truth now?”

Grandmother Jiang, however, was thinking about things differently from the others, and curiously asked, “Didn’t you say he’d served as a former-dynasty fourth-rank official? Wouldn’t his family fortune take longer to collapse than that? How could they not even support one old woman?”

Chen Dasheng rubbed his nose and grinned sheepishly. “Elder madam, you don’t know this—that day up on the mountain, six people died, remember? The National Uncle’s family doesn’t care about such a small matter, and no one pursued that former-dynasty official either. But the remaining four families all had households to support—thirty, forty years old, heads of their families, with elders above and children below, they couldn’t afford to die for this. The plaintiffs naturally sought compensation from the host of the gathering, and that’s how their family fell apart so quickly.”

So that’s how it was—everyone nodded in unison. Qiqian’er stared intently at Chen Dasheng, then suddenly burst out laughing and said, “Wait, that’s not right—Chen Dasheng? Why would you pick this particular moment to walk in and start chatting about idle gossip? Normally you avoid this sort of gathering entirely. Tell me, what scheme is brewing in that belly of yours?”

Hearing this, the elder matriarch grew indignant, glaring at Qiqian’er and scolding, “Look at you, just look at you! I told you he’s been spoiled rotten—go out and ask around, where else does a wife call her own husband a ‘scheme’ right to his face like that.”

Chen Dasheng laughed lightly. “Heh, wife figured it out? I’ve just been noticing, these past few months at home, how a few of the aunties have been raising their children rather improperly.”

At this remark, the whole room fell silent in surprise.

Seeing no one speak, Chen Dasheng turned serious and said, “A’Nai, let’s not even mention Dingxiang’s kids—even Lanting Ge’er, you’ve spoiled him rotten too. What child tears up a whole sheet of good paper after writing just three characters on it? Take Old Master Zhang, for instance—that Zhang Guanneng family, all six sons, weren’t they each raised like treasured jewels back in the day? And their father was a senior scholar besides, each of them well-read in the classics too. But look what became of them! And think about Old Madam Tao too—is a child’s upbringing really such a trivial matter?

Auntie Lü, Auntie Yang—they scrape by on just a well and a run-down little manor plus a bit of rent income, yet look how their children carry on! They can’t even step out the door without two or three servants attending them, swaggering about, mixing with the crowd from Bingbu Lane. If I don’t say something today, at this rate, in a few more years, these aunties won’t even be able to afford their own old age.

These past months at home, I haven’t gone far, and coming and going I’ve seen more improper things than I can count. You and the aunties came up through hardship together, and you’ve kept up the old friendship between you—but how many generations of their families can you keep supporting?”

Reaching this point, Chen Dasheng slowly exhaled and said, “You don’t know this, but earlier this year, someone actually brought a calling card to my yamen to smooth things over. I asked whose card it was—guess whose it turned out to be?”

The elder matriarch shook her head. “Whose card? What card?”

Grandmother Jiang patted her hand and said, “Little sister, you don’t understand—this is an old rule in their yamen. If something comes up at the Qingfeng prefectural office, our family uses Dasheng’s calling card. Bring Dasheng’s card to the Qingfeng yamen to settle a matter, and the prefect has to show Dasheng some face—if there’s a lawsuit, there’ll be some favorable treatment. But Dasheng can’t hand out this card casually, you must remember—favors owed can never really be repaid, nor should they be owed carelessly.”

Chen Dasheng hurriedly bowed with cupped hands to Grandmother Jiang, nodding repeatedly.

The elder matriarch suddenly understood, and then asked Chen Dasheng, “You said someone took, took this card—could it be someone I know?”

Chen Dasheng nodded. “Ah, you know them alright—it’s Auntie Yang’s eldest son. Hmph, and from the Guo household in Qinwei Lane no less! Scared me half to death. That day I even wondered, since when does anyone surnamed Guo in Qinwei Lane never show face, never come around, yet dares send me a card asking for favors? Well, turns out, when I asked around, wasn’t Auntie Yang formerly known as Guo-Yang before? That’s when I remembered it was her family. Do you know how much money her eldest son sold this card for to some outside merchant?”

The elder matriarch grew even more astonished. She couldn’t quite follow this, and after mulling it over for a while, asked hesitantly, “By your account, this card… can even be sold for money?”

Grandmother Jiang slapped the table. “What kind of talk is that—of course it can be sold for money! You think it’s just paper to burn in the brazier? That card represents the family head’s face and standing—how well one’s doing, how much pull one has in official circles, it’s all measured by the weight of that card.”

Once money got involved, the elder matriarch immediately understood, and grew furious. She sat up straight and asked loudly, “She—her family caused you how much trouble over money?”

Chen Dasheng hadn’t really wanted to bring this up, but sooner or later the elder matriarch needed to know, so he said with a cold laugh, “Sold cheap! They sold our family’s old friendship for a mere five hundred strings of cash. It made me so angry, I sent people to Quanhou Street to arrest him. Searched all day before finally catching Auntie Yang’s eldest son at a gambling den. And get this—he still didn’t want to leave, gambling with bloodshot eyes, and of the five hundred strings, only seven or eight were left.”

The elder matriarch’s chest heaved, and it took a while before she could brace herself up with a maid’s help to sit upright, saying as she rose, “No, this won’t do! This is too great a loss. I—I’ll get our money back…”

Everyone was left both exasperated and amused by the elder matriarch’s reaction. It took considerable effort to calm her down. The old lady then sent someone to summon Madam Yang to the old residence—today she was determined to give her a piece of her mind, and determined to get back their five hundred strings of cash.

What a fuss—but it really was five hundred strings of cash, after all!

There was simply no reasoning with her anyway, so it would have to be explained slowly, over time.

Once the two matriarchs had left, Qiqian’er stood beneath the eaves, watching the fine, delicate snowflakes fall, and sighed, “Tell me, it’s only been a few years, we’ve barely had enough to eat, and yet how did people change like this?”

In her previous life, none of this had happened. Back when she’d suffered hardship, Madam Yang had actually helped her out.

Chen Dasheng didn’t respond to this, but instead said, “Actually, I know that Zhang Guanneng too.”

Qiqian’er looked at him in astonishment.

Chen Dasheng, also watching the fine snow, chuckled. “Before I apprenticed under our father, I went to the back alley of the Imperial Academy in the capital. This Old Master Zhang pointed right at my nose under the scholar’s memorial archway and said, ‘Someone like you dares come here seeking a teacher?'”

Qiqian’er, quite protective of Chen Dasheng, was about to curse angrily on his behalf, when several young servants came running in from the side gate. The lead one, Xiyu, his face pale as paper, shouted at Chen Dasheng, “Fourth Master, Fourth Master, something, something’s happened, something’s happened! Our family’s, our family’s livestock shed, in the firewood stack, there seems, there seems to be a frozen, frozen dead, dead child!”