Pei Shaohuai gripped the bamboo handle of the oil-paper umbrella, and felt the pattern carved into the handle — a golden crab with both claws clasping a reed flower.
In that brief moment across the empty air between them, without a word exchanged, he already understood the beautiful intention behind it.
The crab was golden armor; the reed evoked the sound of the proclamation itself.
Yang Shiyue’s thoughts were always like this — restrained and yet unmistakable, composed on the surface and etched into the heart. Pei Shaohuai’s fingers curled inward, and he tightened his grip on the umbrella.
The horse carried him past the stretch of upper-floor galleries. Pei Shaohuai carefully tucked the paper umbrella away, hanging it at his side. Once through that section of the imperial avenue, the crowds grew somewhat thinner, the press of onlookers less tight.
In their place came small schoolchildren in their pale blue scholar’s robes, each led by a parent, who had come to watch the Zhuangyuan’s procession and tossed out their small bundles of flower branches.
Pei Shaohuai did not hold back — he smiled and raised his hand in greeting as he passed.
When the procession concluded, second and third place sent Pei Shaohuai as far as the gates of the Jingchuan Earl’s residence before each returning to his own lodgings.
Second-place finisher Ma Tingwen said with a laugh: “Zhuangyuan Pei is gifted and young, and the people of the capital take great pride in him. Today’s procession will surely become a fine story worth telling for years to come.”
Third-place finisher Zhong Wangyue nodded and added with a smile: “And we must thank Zhuangyuan Pei for being up at the front, shielding us from so many flying branches.”
Pei Shaohuai had been the undisputed center of attention today, but the two of them took it with easy good humor.
Pei Shaohuai cupped his hands in farewell and said: “Today has been hectic and busy — another day, I look forward to sharing a proper drink with Brothers Ma and Zhong.” The three of them would soon be colleagues in the Hanlin Academy — that much was settled.
“No need to see us off. Until we meet again.”
“Until we meet again.”
The commotion in front of the Earl’s residence was no less than what it had been on the imperial avenue. Pei Shaohuai could not say how many copper coins his mother had prepared — he only saw Chang Zhou and Head Steward Shen leading people in carrying basket after basket to the gates, scattering coins like water. The clinking and clattering mingled with the sounds of celebration, drowning out even the firecrackers along the street.
Pei Shaohuai dismounted from his horse. His family had gathered before the main gates to receive him, every face brimming with tears. The Pei patriarch and the old matriarch had put on their ceremonial noble regalia, the formal dress reserved for festival occasions.
“Grandfather, Grandmother, Mother — I have returned.” Pei Shaohuai bowed in greeting.
Returned wearing the crimson Zhuangyuan robes, and bearing the title of Zhuangyuan.
The old matriarch took her grandson’s hands in hers and said softly: “My child, you have worked so hard.”
“First, go to the ancestral hall and pay our respects to the ancestors,” the patriarch said, his excitement running even higher than Pei Shaohuai’s own.
In the ancestral hall, incense smoke drifted and coiled. The patriarch’s voice was choked with emotion as, word by careful word, he offered his report: “May the ancestors of the Pei family hear this: the seventh-generation eldest legitimate son of the Earl’s residence, named Shaohuai, has in the yi-you year of the imperial examinations been designated by the Emperor himself as first place, first rank, and is awarded the title Zhuangyuan. Thus is this respectfully announced. Today the Zhuangyuan’s robes are upon him; in years to come, may the robes of glory be worn by each generation after him.”
Over more than a decade, from first lessons to this moment of achievement, through the rituals of countless new years and festivals, Pei Shaohuai had walked in and out of the Pei ancestral hall countless times. Each time he faced the rows of spirit tablets, he had treated it largely as a formality — he could not honestly say he had approached it with deep reverence.
This time was different. When he heard his grandfather murmur: “…when the Ministry of Rites sends the imperially bestowed plaque, your grandfather will hang it in the highest place of honor at the very center of the ancestral hall — this is the glory of the Earl’s residence.”
The old patriarch pointed to a spot he had long kept ready on the beam overhead, and said to Shaohuai and Shaojin: “When Shaojin also earns his title, and the children of the Pei family are known generation after generation for their learning and achievement, one day we will surely receive a plaque bearing the words ‘a family of scholarly tradition.'” His eyes were filled with longing, but tinged with sorrow — the Pei family would have that day, but he might not live to see it.
Of all the families in Da Qing, those who had ever received an imperially bestowed plaque declaring them a family of scholarly tradition could be counted on one hand.
In this moment, something shifted in Pei Shaohuai’s heart. He no longer felt the quiet detachment of someone going through the motions — instead, a few threads of the world’s attachment, of family honor and family fortune, wound themselves around him. The dark wooden spirit tablets still had little direct connection to him personally, but the ancestral hall itself represented a family — a family whose prosperity and honor he shared with his father, his brothers, and his sisters alike.
Shaohuai and Shaojin answered as one: “Your grandsons will remember your teaching.”
Coming out of the ancestral hall, Shaojin pulled his elder brother aside, looked him up and down with great delight, and said: “Elder Brother looks truly magnificent today. I wish Elder Brother a golden flower in his hat year after year, and may all wishes be fulfilled and every occasion bring joy.”
Years before, when the Earl’s residence had fallen on hard times and been bullied by others, Elder Brother had gone out three years ahead of his time to face the district and provincial examinations. And now, at exactly eighteen years of age, he had truly claimed the Zhuangyuan title.
Shaojin, whose memory was exceptional and who could recite five or six parts of ten after a single reading, still felt that studying for the imperial examinations was an extraordinarily difficult thing. A scholar understood another scholar’s difficulties better than anyone — and brothers who shared the same path understood each other’s hardships best of all.
Shaojin then said: “I would like to ask Elder Brother for something, to borrow a little of his talent and good fortune.”
“To wear the Zhuangyuan robes with a golden flower pinned to your hat — once in a lifetime is enough. There is no need for year after year — the next time will be yours, Shaojin.” Pei Shaohuai smiled, reached up and unpinned the golden silk flower from his black gauze hat, then caught Shaojin’s hand and placed the golden flower in his younger brother’s palm, saying: “Three years from now, when you have your own golden flower to pin to your hat, return this one to me.”
An exchange, and a promise.
“Yes, Elder Brother.”
Shaojin’s eyes shone. To have such an elder brother ahead of him, urging him forward — how fortunate.
Outside the ancestral hall, in the main reception hall, the women of the Pei household were overflowing with happiness. Lan Jie’er was away with her husband at the Shanhai Pass garrison. Ying Jie’er was heavily pregnant and the Jinchang Marquis’s residence also had a celebration underway, so she had not been able to come. But Lian Jie’er and Pei Ruozhu had both come back early.
Lin Shi was the happiest of all — happy about this, happy about that, joy filling her so completely that she could not find the words to say it. She had given out rewards to everyone in the household. The residence was decorated with lanterns and streamers. The celebratory evening banquet was being prepared in an orderly and seamless fashion. The gifts of congratulation and the letters of felicitation pouring in from noble households throughout the capital were being carefully received and recorded by several capable stewards. Every large matter, every small matter, every trivial matter had been managed to perfection — so much so that now, on this day of great celebration, Lin Shi found her hands strangely empty with nothing left to do.
Then, all at once, the old matriarch took Lin Shi’s hands in her own, looked at her steadily, and said with slow and deliberate weight: “Shizhen, over these years you have raised and guided the children well. You have held up the inner household of the Earl’s residence. You are the finest daughter-in-law I could ask for — and the finest mistress of this house.”
Outside, the noise continued unabated. But between the old matriarch and Lin Shi, time seemed to stop. Then, in the next moment, tears slid from the corners of Lin Shi’s eyes, pattering one after another onto the front of her robe.
It was not that she had needed those words of affirmation from the old matriarch. It was that those words brought rushing back all the cutting remarks she had endured over the years. Even as the Earl’s residence rose step by step, even as the entire household treated her with respect and deference, even as the children held her kindness in their hearts — none of that had erased the sharp tongues and pointing fingers of those outside the gates.
Lin Shi had once told herself: so long as the family behind closed doors grew happier with each passing year, that was enough. But who could truly not care about the wandering eyes of others? She was only a woman, after all.
When she befriended families of the pure official and noble circles, outsiders said she was clawing her way up relentlessly. When she arranged substantial dowries for her stepdaughters and the daughters born of the concubine, outsiders said a merchant family only knew how to throw money at things. Those people might well have been jealous — but their words still found the one tender string inside Lin Shi’s heart, and it resonated there long afterward.
From the day she entered the Earl’s residence as Pei Bingyuan’s wife, she had known that this marriage was entangled with interests and calculations. She was fortunate that the household’s conduct was generally upright, and that her husband had never looked down upon her.
But she could not help imagining: if her husband had not entered the Imperial Academy that year, had never set foot on the path of officialdom, and his temperament had remained timid and hesitant; if the daughters had made unhappy marriages and lived poorly; if the sons had been unambitious and idle, given over to the habits of a pampered young master — would all of that have been laid at her feet as her failing?
All these years she had managed the household with virtue, treated people with generosity — partly by nature, and partly out of private anxiety, a constant sense of walking on thin ice.
Before Lin Shi could wipe away her tears, Lian Jie’er was already gently brushing them from her cheeks, her own eyes filling as well, and she said: “Grandmother is right. You are the best mother we could have.”
“Mother is crying from happiness,” Pei Ruozhu said with a warm smile of comfort. “Mother is blessed. This is only the first step. There will be the imperial decree conferring a noble title in your honor… Mother deserves it.” Whether by following Pei Bingyuan’s official career or by her son’s, Lin Shi was certain to receive an honorific noble title.
In the whole of the capital, how many women could compare?
She would never again need to pay heed to idle gossip.
Lin Shi smiled and replied to the old matriarch: “It was all because of Mother’s patience in guiding and instructing me.”
And hearing Pei Ruozhu’s words, Lin Shi at last understood why she had not been able to find the words for all the joy inside her — she had every right to be a little selfish, to stop thinking only of her joy for her son, and to be truly, deeply happy for herself.
The main hall filled with brightness and laughter once more.
A short while later, Steward Zhang came hurrying in, with a look of some urgency on his face, and reported: “Old Matriarch, Madam — a good number of officials and young nobles from the capital have arrived at the gates bearing gifts of congratulation. They are all presently waiting in the front courtyard.”
This was not something that had been anticipated.
It seemed that with the name so widely celebrated, families from every quarter had decided to move quickly to get a step ahead, and had all arrived at the same time.
The stewards could receive visiting cards and relay messages well enough, but entertaining guests was beyond what they could manage on their own. The guests, too, understood that the Zhuangyuan would be busy today and might not be available to receive them personally — but at the very least, some male members of the family ought to come out and offer a few words of courtesy.
Unfortunately, the Earl’s residence was rather thin on male family members. Besides Shaohuai, there was only Shaojin.
Steward Zhang continued: “The Second Young Master has already gone out to receive them, but I’m afraid he cannot attend to everyone alone.” That would be a lapse in proper courtesy.
Pei Ruozhu stepped forward and said: “Mother, why not let Yun Sheng go out instead.” Qiao Yunsheng was a son-in-law of the Pei family, and also the Nanping Earl. Short of the Emperor himself arriving in person, having Qiao Yunsheng go out to receive them would be more than adequate.
“We can’t very well ask our third son-in-law to do that…”
Pei Ruozhu smiled and said playfully: “He’s been out there at leisure anyway. He can’t just be a son-in-law of the Pei family without earning his keep.”
The hall burst into laughter.
Pei Ruozhu went to the outer hall to fetch Qiao Yunsheng and explained the matter to him. Qiao Yunsheng took it in stride, and with easy humor said to Lin Shi and the old matriarch: “As Ruozhu says — today my young brother-in-law has won the Zhuangyuan title and all the glory in the world. It’s only right that I as the elder brother-in-law seize the opportunity and show a little devotion.”
And so Qiao Yunsheng and Pei Shaojin received the guests together in the front courtyard. A few pleasant words were enough to explain the situation and see the guests on their way, without any loss of courtesy on the household’s behalf.
When the sun had moved a little toward the west, Xu Zhan came rushing in without having changed out of his court robes, his face alight as he said: “Uncle Duan and the others are on their way. I rode ahead on horseback to bring the news.”
No one in the hall immediately recognized who “Uncle Duan” was.
Lian Jie’er hurried to explain: “He’s Shaohuai and Shaojin’s teacher — Master Duan is coming.”
The Pei patriarch and Shaohuai, hearing the news, came quickly. The whole household set about preparing to receive Master Duan with proper ceremony.
Pei Shaohuai was perhaps the most deeply moved of anyone. He understood what it meant for Master to be willing to come. Master had the pride and dignity of a true man of letters. Even at the Xu residence, he was particular about strangers seeing him seated in his wheelchair. Going out in public was something he did even less — apart from occasional visits to the observatory on Mount Mang to see the Old Daoist Wu, or going on outings with his students. He almost never went to another person’s home.
This was the first time he had ever come to the Earl’s residence.
The Xu family’s carriage came to a slow stop. The Pei household quickly laid out a long and gently sloping ramp in front of the carriage, and Yancheng pushed Master out. The wooden ramp reached precisely to the very center of the Earl’s residence’s main gates.
The Pei patriarch stepped forward to greet him, bowing deeply, and said: “Master Duan honors us with his presence — our humble residence is radiant with distinction.”
Master replied humbly: “I am nothing but a poor old scholar. That the old lord has come out personally to receive me — I am honored and humbled.”
After the exchange of pleasantries, everyone moved into the main hall. The tall armchairs at the seat of honor had already been cleared away, and Pei Shaohuai took over from Yancheng, wheeling Master to the place of highest honor.
Pei Shaohuai knelt before Master and kowtowed three times, saying: “This student has not let down his teacher’s instruction. By good fortune, I have earned the title of Zhuangyuan in the regular imperial examinations. Please receive this student’s highest expression of gratitude.”
Master leaned forward, reaching out as if to help him up. Pei Shaohuai quickly met him halfway and took his teacher’s hands in his own.
The palms were a little thin and bony, the joints hardened with calluses — but clean, and strong.
Though Master had lost the use of both legs, he had never allowed his writing hands to grow slack. Before taking up the brush, he always burned incense and washed his hands in ceremony.
Those hands passed over Pei Shaohuai’s black gauze hat, over the Zhuangyuan robes, and the eyes above them brimmed with tears — and yet Master tried to keep his voice light and wry, saying: “My student has finally put on a set of robes he doesn’t have to give back to the Imperial Academy… You have come home…” These robes had been bestowed by the Emperor himself.
Master did not let the tears fall, but steered the words somewhere else: “No need for all that today. I promised to preside over your wedding — I came early to get acquainted with the place.”
“Yes — let me take you everywhere and give you a proper tour.”
“Then… let’s start with the study where you had your first lessons as a child.”