In truth, Qi Gong was equally as occupied with affairs of state as Situ Sheng had been, and had previously heard nothing of the rumors concerning Chu Linlang. Matters of the inner quarters did not reach his ears.

It was only now, having it mentioned to him by Situ Sheng, that he came to know something of the situation.

These baseless, sourceless rumors made Qi Gong frown.

Setting aside Chu Linlang’s character entirely — Liao Jingxuan was absolutely a candid and magnanimous gentleman, and it was quite out of the realm of possibility that he would lose his head over a woman and compete for her with someone else.

Situ Sheng’s care and regard for this Chu Linlang were evident enough. Now, hearing Situ Sheng explain that he had long harbored intentions to marry her, Qi Gong could see how naturally this had all come about.

It was only that Situ Sheng was still within his mourning period — not an appropriate time to discuss or formalize a marriage — and so he had said nothing until now.

This privately won Qi Gong’s approval. It was well known that Situ Sheng was now quite a figure of influence in the capital — if he had wished to reach for a higher branch and marry a girl from a good family, it would have been effortless.

And yet he was set on a woman who had come from a modest background and had previously been married. He was even willing to offer her a proper marriage. This was clearly no matter of infatuation clouding his judgment, but something thought through with careful deliberation.

They say that a man’s true character can be read from his choice of wife. One could only say: this young man had surprised Qi Gong yet again.

That Chu Linlang was indeed different from those women of narrow experience and limited vision. Young Situ had quite a discerning eye.

Although Qi Gong had never before officiated at a marriage, today he was prepared to make an exception — to serve as the witnessing matchmaker for Situ Sheng and Chu Linlang.

And so the only one who was left speechless and unable to utter a word from beginning to end — was Chu Linlang herself.

She listened as Situ Sheng spoke with complete candor to Qi Gong about his wish to marry Chu Linlang.

Since the mourning period had not yet concluded, he wished to formalize the arrangement privately first — to give her a promise, and to formally take her as his wife once the period was over.

This set Linlang urgently tugging at his sleeve from the side, desperate to stop this reckless speech.

But Situ Sheng turned to her with a look that said clearly: be patient. He even murmured: “Qi Gong has taken time out of a busy schedule — whatever you have to say, we can say it afterward.”

Linlang had just been about to say “by afterward it will be too late” — when Liao Jingxuan picked up the thread.

Liao Jingxuan was a man who knew how to handle words well. He explained lightly to Qi Gong that on the day in question, he and Situ Sheng had simply had a disagreement on a matter of policy, and it was this that had led to their quarrel.

Chu Linlang, well-intentioned, had tried to mediate between the two of them, which resulted in a bit of physical pulling and tugging that happened to be witnessed by others, creating the misunderstanding.

In short, there had indeed been a quarrel — though as to who exactly it had been with, Liao Jingxuan had not made it entirely clear.

But as for anyone fabricating some romantic entanglement between himself and Chu Linlang — that was utter nonsense of the most absurd kind.

After Situ Sheng’s carriage had left, Liao Jingxuan had departed next.

He did happen to see a group of people emerging from the bamboo grove — among them the daughter-in-law of Qi Gong.

Liao Jingxuan therefore felt it necessary to explain the matter clearly to Qi Gong and ask him to pass along the word, so that Madam Hua and the others would not labor under the wrong impression.

Upon hearing that Madam Hua had also been present at the time, Qi Gong’s expression shifted slightly. He understood in an instant why Situ Sheng had sought him out as a witness.

If the rumors had indeed originated from his daughter-in-law, he would have no face left whatsoever — when he returned home, he would certainly have a thorough conversation with her.

As for Chu Linlang, after Liao Jingxuan’s explanation, she could only stand there wide-eyed, unable to speak, trailing behind Situ Sheng.

She was beginning to understand: Situ Sheng had arranged all of this to clear up the misunderstanding between her and Liao Jingxuan.

But clearing up a misunderstanding should not require actually formalizing a marriage contract. And Situ Sheng had also insisted on having Qi Gong as a witness — if either of them later had second thoughts, would that not be enormously complicated?

Yet every time she stealthily tugged at Situ Sheng’s sleeve, Situ Sheng silently indicated with a look for her to be patient and simply follow his lead.

She had the sense that Situ Sheng must have another move in reserve. She simply fell quiet and waited for him to direct things.

Placing her trust in Situ Sheng, Chu Linlang listened as the three men spoke back and forth at length. Then Qi Gong produced two copies of a marriage contract and, following the Great Jin tradition, spoke the customary words of blessing for the union — after which he invited both parties to sign and press their fingerprints.

Linlang was still waiting for Situ Sheng’s next move. She caught his eye and conveyed with an astonished look: if you don’t reconsider now, we will actually be signing this marriage contract!

But Situ Sheng replied in that low, captivating voice of his: “Go on, sign it first — don’t keep Qi Gong waiting.”

Linlang’s heart said no, yet her hand somehow took the brush Situ Sheng handed her and wrote her name on the marriage contract, then pressed her fingerprint.

Situ Sheng did likewise. Before long, two beautifully completed marriage contracts were duly signed.

In addition to the names of both parties, Qi Gong’s name and Liao Jingxuan’s were also recorded upon the contract.

In other words, Situ Sheng had now formally graduated, in the eyes of propriety, from her Chu Linlang’s informal partner — to a fully legitimate fiancé.

After the witnesses departed, Situ Sheng took Linlang’s hand and the two walked together toward the carriage.

With no one else around, Linlang could finally ask him properly what he had meant by it: “Situ Sheng, have you lost your mind? How could you go and get yourself betrothed to me just like that?”

Situ Sheng felt she was entirely right to put it that way: “The betrothal was rather simple, I admit — but I am in mourning, and even an engagement, though not in violation of the rules, ought to be kept low-key. When you and I actually marry, I will make sure all the proper rites are carried out — I will not let you feel it was less than you deserved.”

But that was not what Linlang wanted to talk about at all.

She said urgently: “If you wanted to clear up the rumors, you could simply have spoken to Qi Gong directly. Getting betrothed to me this suddenly — if you want to reverse it later, won’t that be enormously inconvenient?”

Situ Sheng continued to reassure her: “Don’t worry. Qi Gong was my grandfather’s closest friend. Though he does not know my true identity, he will keep our betrothal secret at my request. And if one day my circumstances come to light, out of his regard for my grandfather, he will absolutely not reveal our agreement to anyone.”

Situ Sheng’s meaning was clear: the reason he had chosen Qi Gong was precisely because he could be trusted to keep quiet. Linlang therefore need not worry that formalizing the betrothal would leave her entangled in future complications.

After all, there were two copies of the marriage contract — one for each of them. There was no fear of either party using it against the other.

Did Situ Sheng actually imagine that her anxiety was about being implicated by his hidden origins in the future?

Chu Linlang was truly close to being provoked to speechlessness by him. She shook his arm with force: “Why do you still not understand — the way you’ve done this only makes me more greedy for what I cannot have. If… if you later meet someone better, and I refuse to let go — won’t you regret it then?”

Situ Sheng’s thick brows drew together: “How could I ever regret it? And will you?”

Linlang had no wish to argue with him. She wanted to speak calmly and without agitation, but the calm would not come.

However inscrutable and deep-minded this man might be in other respects, in the matter of marriage he was nothing but a naive beginner.

She had been through marriage once. She had an obligation to make clear to this reckless young man exactly what was at stake.

“Yes, you like me now. Because my looks are pleasing and my figure agreeable. But a woman’s beauty is the most fleeting thing there is. When the day comes that I am old — when wrinkles have gathered at the corners of my eyes and the freshness and liveliness have long since gone — that is when you will discover that beneath this face of mine lies a woman who is, at her core, thoroughly common and worldly. I may seem agreeable and sociable on the surface, but in private my temper is truly not good at all. I cannot follow your literary references and I understand nothing of poetry and classical verse. Every day I will chatter in your ear about how many taels of silver I earned today. Worse still — I am deeply jealous and will not tolerate concubines, and I cannot bear children. Perhaps if you speak a few extra words to some other woman by chance, I will work myself into suspicion and doubt, convinced you have turned your affections elsewhere. By then you and I will have nothing but endless quarreling. The way things are between us now, free and easy as they are — what is wrong with it? Why must you marry me, and in doing so drive me to become the very version of myself I most detest?”

The more Chu Linlang spoke, the more agitated she became, and her voice grew louder as she went. As she spoke, it was as though she could already see the future — once close and intimate with each other, now standing face to face with nothing to say, regarding each other with mutual distaste.

At the mere imagining of such a scene, the tears came, flowing and spreading like a breached stream.

At last, struggling to gather herself, she said in a voice gone hoarse: “Still, it’s all right — you and I have only signed a marriage contract. Be assured I will not treat this paper as binding. In a few days, invite Qi Gong and Master Liao back, and we will dissolve the contract…”

She had thought that having been separated from Zhou Sui’an for so long, she had long since moved on and healed.

Yet just now, as she laid bare before Situ Sheng the frightening reality of a long marriage, she realized that eight years of matrimony had left this many indelible scars within her.

When she had walked out of the Zhou household, she had seemed so resolute. But the wounds left by that marriage had never fully healed.

No matter how bright and sociable she appeared before others, that version of herself — the one who had grown ever more diminished and self-doubting through eight years of marriage — still lived deep in her heart, and in her lowest moments, it would push its way back to the surface…

She wanted to say more, but her entire body was pulled tightly into Situ Sheng’s arms.

Situ Sheng could feel the soft body in his embrace trembling faintly.

He too had not expected that signing the marriage contract would plunge Chu Linlang into such panic, or tear open the wounds she carried buried within.

“This marriage contract was never meant to bind you — it was meant to bind me. The fault is mine. I should not have been so afraid that you might leave me that I pressured you into signing it. But why do you speak so poorly of yourself? If you were truly as worthless as you say, things would be so much easier — I would not be pining for you like this, utterly unable to let go.”

Even as he said these words, Situ Sheng held out for as long as he could — and then surrendered to the sight of her tear-filled eyes, holding her tighter still.

She was the beauty who had haunted his young dreams, the one he had believed fate had placed forever beyond his reach.

Now that by some miracle she had come into his hands, how could he allow her to slip away so easily?

He was too selfish — driven by this need for something solid and certain to hold onto, he had pressured her. This proved beyond doubt that he did indeed carry Yang Yi’s blood — selfish to the bone.

And yet, his attachment ran too deep. He had made up his mind to act on this one selfish impulse, regardless of all reason. Even if she had no wish to marry him, he could not bring himself to let go.

Chu Linlang was not one to dwell in sorrow for long. She had wept as much as she needed to — the desolate and confused grief of a moment had overflowed and spent itself.

And now, held in Situ Sheng’s arms and gently coaxed by his soft words, she felt, all at once, considerably steadier.

She was the same — why look so far ahead? It was only a marriage contract. As she had said herself, perhaps in less than a year the newness between them would wear off for both, and the contract would naturally become void.

Why torture herself with anxious imaginings of disaster?

Once the tears had passed, the grief began to dissipate, and her whole manner turned practically pragmatic. She sniffled and thought: well, for what it’s worth, there is at least a signed marriage contract. But a document by itself is not enough — all his silver is already in my keeping, and I can hardly bring myself to ask him for betrothal gifts on top of that. Getting betrothed this easily — isn’t that rather a poor deal on my end?

Situ Sheng, of course, had no idea that Linlang’s thoughts had already turned to the question of money. What he feared most was that Linlang would change her mind and want to nullify the contract.

Watching the person in his arms stop crying, eyes now moving in thought over something unknown —

Situ Sheng reached into his chest and drew out a small brocade box, from which he took a pair of jade bracelets and presented them to Chu Linlang.

“These were passed down by my grandmother as a token of good faith — originally given to my mother, but as she suffered episodes at the time and could not wear them, they have been in my keeping ever since. The time has come for them to pass to you.”

Linlang looked down at the pair of old jade bracelets. Their smooth surfaces bore the warm, deepened luster that only comes from generations of skin polishing them to life.

This was not something that could simply be bought with gold and silver. She was finally beginning to feel — in some measure — just how sincere Situ Sheng’s determination to marry her truly was.

These heirloom jade bracelets of the Yang family were the betrothal gift Situ Sheng was offering her. The weight of meaning carried in a pair of jade bracelets was beyond any price.

Seeing Linlang reluctant to put them on, and assuming she was still resisting the engagement, Situ Sheng could not help gripping her shoulders: “Linlang, you have already signed the marriage contract and pressed your fingerprint. Do you still intend to go back on your word?”

Linlang was in the middle of wiping the old jade bracelets clean with her handkerchief. Hearing him ask, she promptly slid them onto her wrists: “You had no less a person than Great Jin’s own Libationer presiding over this — it is not child’s play. There is no taking it back the very same day. At the very least, let me wear them for a couple of days first before you ask.”

Situ Sheng had no patience for her exasperating talk. The way she was, he would not have to wait for the day Linlang grew old and her beauty faded — she would be perfectly capable of provoking him to an early death while still in the full bloom of her youth.

By now Linlang had fastened the bracelets in place. She extended her arm and took hold of Situ Sheng’s, tilting her head to look him over from top to bottom as though meeting him anew — this freshly minted fiancé of hers.

The feeling of a fiancé was quite different from an informal partner.

Even though this was a person she had already spent many a night with — looking at him now, it seemed his bright eyes and sword-like brows were somehow more handsome than before.

Now that the marriage contract was signed, and before it had been declared void, was she entitled to lay claim to him openly and without question?

As for her fears about marriage — those could be set aside for the time being.

Chu Linlang was not by nature one to torment herself with imaginary troubles. Situ Sheng was, at this moment, sincere and wholehearted in his wish to marry her — and that alone was enough to give Linlang the courage to take a few more steps forward.

That day, Situ Sheng accompanied Linlang back to the residence on the outskirts and informed Sun Shi of the fact that he and Linlang had signed a marriage contract. Only, given the mourning period, it was not appropriate to make a public announcement — when the time was right, he would complete the full formal process of marriage with three matchmakers and six betrothal gifts and officially take Linlang as his wife.

Sun Shi listened with her mouth agape, not quite believing her own ears. It was only when Situ Sheng produced the marriage contract bearing Qi Gong’s name as witness that Sun Shi’s floating, unmoored feet finally came to rest on somewhat more solid ground.

Situ Sheng presented his future mother-in-law with a respectful cup of tea, then took his leave in haste.

With so much official business weighing on him, being able to carve out half a day had been no small feat. After everyone had gone, Sun Shi still had not quite come back to herself.

She asked Linlang with some disbelief: “Situ Sheng truly intends to marry you?”

Linlang smiled faintly, running her fingers over the bracelets on her wrist, and said gently: “Mother, he is a grown man. Do you think he would go to the trouble of drawing up a false document just to deceive the two of us?”

“But you…”

Sun Shi wanted to say that her daughter could not bear children, but the words dissolved before they reached her lips.

It was her daughter’s deepest wound — she could not be the one to bring it up.

Linlang knew what her mother was worrying about.

She let out a soft sigh: “He says that the way of husband and wife is not solely about continuing the family line — that if we could spend our lives together, he would be content without children…”

What? These preposterous words left Sun Shi gaping open-mouthed. Could… could this be sincere? Had her daughter fed him some kind of bewitching brew that had robbed him of his senses?

If Situ Sheng had not gone to the trouble of inviting a witness of such distinguished standing to preside over a duly signed marriage contract, she would have thought this was all just honeyed deception, a man coaxing a woman into compliance.

Chu Linlang could see that her mother did not believe it, yet she could hardly tell her mother that she herself did not know whether to believe it either.

She took her mother’s hand and said quietly: “From the time I was small until now, there has never been a smooth and open road ahead of me. I have always made my way by testing the ground step by step, wading through uncertain depths. Now someone says he is willing to walk a stretch of it with me at my side. The road ahead may well be harder still — but I want to take the risk and try. Without walking it, who can know whether there might not be a bright opening around the next bend? Your daughter, at the very least right now… has feelings for him in her heart.”

What Chu Linlang left unspoken was that these feelings were the only ones of their kind she had known in her entire life.

Though she had married Zhou Sui’an in the bloom of youth, thinking back now, what she had felt for Zhou Sui’an had been far more gratitude and obligation than it had ever been love between a man and woman.

And so when Zhou Sui’an had betrayed her, she had been hurt — yet she had been capable of calmly mapping out her retreat, severing the bond without dragging it out.

After all, when a debt of gratitude had been repaid in full, there was nothing left owed. Leaving with a clear conscience had come naturally.

But facing Situ Sheng, Chu Linlang could not make the same guarantee about herself in the future. And so she could only proceed step by step, because at this moment… she could not do without him either.

Sun Shi understood, in some measure, what Linlang was saying. This daughter of hers had always been one to take impossible risks and travel roads no one else would take.

If this was how things stood, then there was nothing more to say. She could only pray that this Situ Sheng had a conscience — that he would not betray the brave and genuine heart her Linlang was placing in his hands.

This betrothal was formalized in a lakeside pavilion outside the city. Beyond those present, no word of it was spread abroad.

And so after formalizing the engagement, nothing in Linlang’s daily life changed much on the surface — except that the bright smile on her face grew more frequent, and her complexion more luminous than before. She carried on as always, busy each day with her shop business, sorting through accounts, and managing the affairs of the smelting workshop in the northwest.

During this period, that Madam Zhou came by a few times, clearly hoping to see the spectacle of Chu Linlang’s embarrassment and fury at having been driven from the academy.

But instead, she found Chu Linlang radiant and all smiles.

When she arrived, Linlang made no move to drive her out — only told someone to bring a chair for Madam Zhou, positioned somewhat toward the outer edge, in full view of everyone, so that if anything happened there could be no accusations of the shop being remiss in its hospitality.

After that, Chu Linlang paid Madam Zhou no further attention, simply going on with her warm conversations with other customers. Xie Youran, finding no entertainment in being ignored, had no wish to stand at Chu Linlang’s door like a decorative stone lion — and left in a huff.

Chu Linlang knew perfectly well what Xie Youran had come hoping to see. Pity she seemed to have forgotten: she herself was not a woman of idle leisure who had nothing to do but sit and gather dust like a fine lady. So what if all those tea gatherings and palace banquets no longer invited her?

Even if they did, she was so busy she barely had her feet on the ground — she had no time for them.

As Xia Qingyun’s gold-panning operation grew and expanded, people from villages near and far came flooding in to pan for gold. Though the upstream land was almost entirely purchased by Linlang, with undisputed ownership, the downstream areas had grown more and more crowded, with armed clashes breaking out from time to time.

According to Xia Qingyun, local officials had approached him multiple times. Panning for gold dust, while not the same as formally mining a gold vein, had a long history and did not require a commoner to file a report with the authorities.

But if the scramble for river sections led to fighting and even loss of life, the authorities would not simply turn a blind eye.

Chu Linlang understood perfectly well the reality of too many mouths and too little meat. Once the gold mine in the mountain range was formally opened and the water source running down from the mountains was cut off, this particular stream of income would dry up as well — and without water, the land could not grow medicinal herbs either.

This was precisely why she had invested heavily in recruiting skilled smelting artisans and purchasing the necessary equipment and tools.

No matter how things unfolded, those who panned for gold dust would need to sell it. She would buy it all back — and after smelting and refining it, the resulting gold would fetch a far higher profit.

When the time came to step away from the operation, the equipment and facilities would easily be taken over by someone else — nothing would be lost.

Beyond this, she had also begun selling off the gorge land she held in parcels and stages.

But now that gold dust was involved, the price at which she sold was many times what she had originally paid — releasing one piece of land and buyers would scramble to compete for it.

By Linlang’s calculations, even if the authorities eventually moved in to extract the mineral veins and cut off the waterflow, she would by then hold no land left in the area.

Chu Linlang always ran her business with a focus on security — she would never become so entranced by profit that she chased after the very last copper coin. In business, gambling was a dangerous game. When things were going sweetly, that was exactly the time to think about a way out.

The liquid silver flowing through her hands on account of the gold dust was now close to a thousand taels.

A figure she would not have dared to dream of in the past. With this kind of capital behind her, there was far more she could do.

She did not, however, continue purchasing property in the capital. Instead, operating under a merchant’s name — that of a Li-surnamed trader — she purchased several tracts of farmland near the Lingnan region, with the intention of planting fruit orchards.

The fruits of Lingnan, if properly preserved, would fetch excellent prices in the capital market — she had seen this with her own eyes during her visits to the Sixth Prince’s mansion. Word had it that even the produce supplied to the imperial palace required the Prince’s household to hire boats at premium rates to transport it.

Having moved in and out of the deep palace and noble residences, Chu Linlang had broadened her horizons and knew something of how to extract money from people of wealth and rank.

She was already planning to have the cargo holds of the boats modified to include ice compartments, and to construct additional underground ice cellars to stock heavily with ice during the winter. With proper storage and more fruit varieties, selling to wealthy customers would still command high prices.

And Lingnan — vast in territory, sparse in population, with a strong-willed local character — was a region beyond the effective reach of the court’s authority.

It was the escape route Situ Sheng had once arranged for her — and now she was carefully making it into the escape route for both of them.

If Situ Sheng’s identity were ever exposed, they could take on new names and go to Lingnan together and make an honest living selling fruit.

While Linlang was quietly laying plans for the future with this sense of ease and purpose, a distinguished visitor arrived at the shop — it was Tao Yashu, come to call on her.

The imperial supplies available within the palace were plentiful, but the Empress Dowager would occasionally long for the foods and little pleasures of her younger days. And so Yashu, always perceptive and considerate, had obtained the Empress Dowager’s permission to go out of the palace to make purchases on her behalf — and took the opportunity to look in on Chu Linlang at the same time.

Seeing her arrive, Chu Linlang hurried out to welcome her, smiling as she said: “A magpie was calling from the eaves this morning — I was wondering what good news it was heralding. It turns out it was you coming. That was remarkably accurate.”

Yashu smiled and waved for the palace attendants and eunuchs following behind her to wait outside the shop. She quickly helped Linlang up from her bow of greeting, laughing as she said: “I have come to bring you happy news in person… I haven’t seen you in so long, and somehow you’ve managed to look even more beautiful than before?”

—