Dressed in a crisp new dark blue robe embroidered with a pattern of six blessings at the threshold, the Old Madam regarded with grave dignity Gu Tingye, who had knelt and kowtowed before her. She accepted the tea he offered, then without a word presented him a red envelope, and proceeded to look him up and down with eyes sharp as lightning. It was to Gu Tingye’s credit that, having witnessed both the living and the dead in considerable numbers, he held his composure throughout with a steady smile.

At the sight of Gu Tingye again, Wang Shi felt a bitterness in her mouth and a tangle of emotions she could hardly sort through. She sat with measured composure at the head of the hall and said a few perfectly proper pleasantries. Last of all, Sheng Hong stepped in to close the matter. He was a man of no small theatrical talent — he produced two portentous lines about being “quite gratified,” and actually managed to bring a shimmer of moisture to the corners of his eyes. His manner and bearing were utterly beyond reproach: every inch the devoted, warmhearted father.

After Gu Tingye had offered tea and performed the formal bowing ceremony before Sheng Hong and his wife, the bridal party entered. The richly adorned young bride, red veil in place, was led in by Old Madam Bo at a measured pace into the main hall. Gu Tingye kept his eyes steadily forward, bowing together with Minglan in farewell before Sheng Hong and Wang Shi. Sheng Hong was nearly overcome; his voice broke as he said: “Good, good! Henceforth you must treat each other with respect and love. May you grow old together in devoted companionship; may your descendants flourish and multiply; may your conduct always guide and uplift those who are young.”

Wang Shi had at last summoned genuine feeling, and said with warmth: “From now on, be respectful, be cautious, listen well to your husband and his family’s elders, and do not act rashly on your own.” She thought she had done rather well. At Rulan’s wedding, she had wept so much she could hardly see, and by the end had not managed to say a single coherent word.

At the final farewell, the Old Madam could no longer hold herself back. She clutched Minglan’s hand with an iron grip. Beneath the red veil, Minglan could see no more than a hand’s breadth around her, and knew nothing of the Old Madam’s expression. Yet as she bowed her head, she saw one thin, aged hand holding her own pudgy one in a grip so fierce the knuckles showed white. All at once her nose stung — and a single large tear fell with a heavy drop onto their clasped hands.

As though scalded, the Old Madam immediately released her hold, and after a long pause managed to say faintly: “From now on… take care of yourself…”

Minglan’s chest was so full of aching sweetness she could not speak a single word. She could only nod with great force — nearly shaking the red veil right off her head.

Minglan kept her head carefully bowed, so that the tears gathering in her eyes would fall straight down to the floor rather than ruining her make-up. She was guided by someone — she could not quite tell who — slowly out toward the entrance. At the main gate, Changbai carried her on his back into the bridal sedan chair. The curtain was lowered. The chair swayed into motion. Only when Minglan knew she had begun the journey did she hastily pull a thin cotton handkerchief from her sleeve and dab carefully at the corners of her eyes with the tip of it.

The large eight-man palanquin was spacious inside, adorned with pearl and jade and gilded paintings. It moved smoothly with almost no sensation of jolting. All around her, Minglan could hear the thunderous drums, music, and firecrackers, and the laughter and commentary of the crowds along the street.

It was then that Minglan first noticed a faint stinging sensation on her skin. That old madam had looked so frail, yet her threading had been ruthlessly brisk. The more she thought about it, the more her face smarted. She hissed softly through her teeth and let out a small, involuntary “ow.”

Sharp-eared Little Xiaotao, walking alongside the sedan chair, could not help leaning toward the curtain and asking softly: “Young lady — is it your stomach hurting because you’re hungry? I have something to eat here!”

Minglan could not contain herself and burst out laughing — this little glutton! She scolded through the curtain: “I’m not hungry!”

Little Xiaotao remained concerned: “Young lady, please don’t hold back on my account!”

Minglan shook her head with exasperation: “I’m not holding back!”

In ancient cities, the layout of neighborhoods was generally well-established. In the capital, the outer city was arranged in its customary way — east for the wealthy, west for the noble, south for the poor, north for the lowly — while the inner city was clustered with imperial clansmen, powerful ministers, and hereditary nobles. Thanks to the Sheng family ancestor who had had the foresight to buy property in a well-positioned area, the Sheng Mansion was quite well situated, not far at all from the Ningyuan Marquis Mansion. Minglan was carried in the sedan chair for roughly the time it would take to eat two meals, and was then set down.

With one hand resting on Danju’s wrist and the other clasping the long red silk that had been pressed into her grip, Minglan walked forward in a haze. One foot stepped across the threshold of the Ningyuan Marquis Mansion, and the air immediately filled with the roar of firecrackers and wedding cheers. A long red carpet stretched across the ground, leading all the way to the main hall — Minglan walked slowly along it, and only when she saw the intricately carved and gilded threshold before her did she know she had arrived.

For the stretch of time that followed, Minglan was like a puppet. Directed by the announcer’s prompts and chants, she rose and bowed, turned and bowed again, and again — until her head swam. Then she was led away like a small dog on a lead, only to find that the bridal chamber was even louder than outside, with a whole roomful of female relatives laughing and making merry.

Compared to Minglan’s helpless confusion, Gu Tingye moved with entirely familiar ease. He accepted the black lacquer, silver-tipped, red silk-wrapped rod from the ceremonial attendant and carefully lifted the blazing red bridal veil — the ease of second marriages is not to be underestimated.

Minglan felt a sudden brightness. A tall shadow loomed over her. She looked up, and met Gu Tingye’s gaze directly — deep and still, with those narrow, slightly upturned eyes that always seemed to carry hidden meaning when they looked at anyone. Minglan’s cheeks flushed with very timely propriety, and she lowered her head at precisely the right moment in sweet, perfectly calibrated shyness. Gu Tingye could not help a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, his eyes full of laughter.

He then settled beside her. His lips moved quietly. Minglan strained to make it out and barely managed to catch something like “…why did you paint your face like this?” Minglan nearly cried out — after an entire day of exhausting labor, this man actually dared to complain?!

“Oh my, what a beautiful bride!” A matron in an embroidered pomegranate-red jacket exclaimed. The whole room of women burst into laughter and began trading jokes in earnest.

Minglan glanced up. The room was full of magnificent silks and jewels, every woman dressed to the nines in brocades and satins, their perfume filling the air. Her face burned. Good grief — given the state her face was painted into, how on earth could anyone tell whether she was beautiful?!

Then a shower of peanuts, red dates, and other things was pelted over Minglan and the groom’s heads. Minglan did not dare budge and sat there taking it stoically. Gu Tingye, by reflex, caught several of them — which set off another round of laughter and teasing.

“My goodness, Brother Ye — this is a bridal chamber, not a martial training ground! Your skills are not required here!” It was again the buxom matron in pomegranate red who piped up. The room erupted in laughter. Gu Tingye slowly lowered his hand, gave a slight smile, and said nothing.

The female guests, after all, had some regard for Gu Tingye’s status and temperament, and did not push the jesting too far. A matron presented a plate with what appeared to be a confection, held it to Minglan’s lips, and Minglan — knowing this custom — steeled herself and took a small bite. As expected, the inside was raw. The woman grinned and asked: “Raw or cooked?”

Minglan cursed inwardly, yet bowed her head and said softly: “Raw.”

Another great wave of laughter from the assembled women. The matron turned to the room with a delighted smile: “All the ladies heard it — the new bride said ‘raw.’ She is certain to bear many fine children in the years ahead, with branches and blossoms in great abundance!”

Minglan’s cheeks were aflame. She played along with a somewhat foolish-looking smile and gave a few compliant laughs, while sternly reminding herself: this was an era without family planning. Paying respects to the Goddess of Mercy would be far less cost-effective than paying respects to a good breeding sow.

Finally came the ceremony of the shared wedding cup. On a small round red lacquered tray with gold begonia inlay sat a pair of white porcelain cups painted with iris patterns, tied together with a red cord. Minglan turned slightly to the side, cheeks pink, and drank the crossed-cups wine together with Gu Tingye. As she drew near, she lifted her eyes for a brief glance, and caught sight of the man’s clean, sharp, finely defined jaw. Her heart gave a small skip.

— Well. He was at least good-looking. Blow out the candles, close your eyes — it would not be entirely impossible to endure.

When the ceremony was concluded, Gu Tingye was hustled out to attend to his guests. At the door, he could not help glancing back, as though he wanted to say something — then, catching sight of the full room of female guests, he thought better of it and went out. The buxom matron had been holding in her laughter all this time. Once he was gone, she came over to Minglan with warm familiarity: “Second Sister-in-law, I’m your Xuan Elder Sister-in-law — please don’t be shy. Now that you’re with us, we’re all family!”

Minglan, seeing her easy, good-natured smile, returned it: “Xuan Elder Sister-in-law.”

At that moment, a woman standing by the table burst out laughing, pressing her handkerchief over her mouth: “Xuan Elder Sister-in-law, aren’t you a bit hasty? The real proper eldest sister-in-law hasn’t said a word yet, and you’re already being so familiar!”

Another woman immediately chimed in: “That’s hardly fair though — they say an eager nature means slow results when having children, and yet Xuan Elder Sister-in-law has raised two sons! Clearly she knows exactly when to be eager!”

All the women burst out laughing together. Xuan Elder Sister-in-law pretended to take offense, pressing the back of her hand to her waist with a theatrical pout: “Very well, very well! I’m the old one here now, and you’ve all spent these years teasing me until my skin has gotten good and thick!” Then she turned and pointed toward a woman sitting quietly beside the double happiness lanterns, smiling at Minglan: “Sister-in-law, here — this is your proper eldest sister-in-law!”

The woman appeared to be close to thirty, dressed in a dark red robe with a pattern of auspicious motifs and black velvet trim two fingers wide along the edges. Her white oval face was unadorned and clean, her features composed and refined. She smiled gently, though a faint shadow of melancholy seemed to dwell between her brows. There was nothing elaborate about her jewelry or presentation, yet as she quietly rose and began to walk toward Minglan, the room gradually fell into a hush. No one was laughing anymore.

Minglan understood. This was the legitimate eldest daughter-in-law of the Gu household: the wife of Gu Tingyu, and the current Marchioness of Ningyuan, Madam Shao. Not daring to step down from the bed, Minglan acknowledged her with a respectful incline of her head: “Eldest Sister-in-law!”

Madam Shao came forward and took Minglan’s hand gently. The touch was cool against Minglan’s skin. Then she heard her say in an unhurried voice: “From now on we are family. Living together in ordinary days, we will grow familiar in time. Do not make yourself overly constrained at home.” A few quiet, measured words of guidance, the tone serene — yet carrying an inexplicable note of loneliness and tranquility.

Madam Shao then turned to address the others: “Let us go to the front hall as well — with so many guests, it would not do for the hosts to all crowd here and make sport of the new bride.” The female guests smiled and murmured their agreement. Xuan Elder Sister-in-law led the way, and the group filed out one by one.

Madam Shao turned once more, and said quietly to Minglan: “I know you have your own attendants. But since Second Brother has only recently taken up residence here, the people he brought may not yet be fully settled. I have left two maidservants at the door for you. If you need anything, simply give them instructions directly. You are tired today as well — I have had some food prepared and will have it sent in for you to eat something.”

With that, she smiled faintly. After Minglan thanked her, she too went out.

Minglan watched the closing door, and felt a genuine surprise. The impression Madam Shao gave was entirely unlike that of Madam Qin — courteous, gentle, thorough, and yet carrying with it a certain coolness, a quality of holding others at an arm’s length. Some might find it unsettling, but Minglan thought it perfectly agreeable. This kind of well-measured consideration felt far more comfortable than forced warmth.

Once everyone had gone, only Danju, Little Xiaotao, and the two small maidservants remained in the room to attend her.

Danju had long been feeling pained at the sight of Minglan sitting stiffly upright for so many long hours. Now that the others had gone, she stepped forward and inquired in a low voice: “Young lady, are you hungry? Would you like some tea?”

“No need.” Minglan rubbed at her nearly rigid lower back and very much wanted to stretch out, but mindful of the two unfamiliar maidservants, she held herself back, and said to Danju instead: “I want to wash my face. Go and heat some water.”

This wall of white powder was truly going to be the death of her. Danju went to do as she was asked.

Little Xiaotao, seeing Minglan steadily kneading her own lower back, came over to gently work at it. Little Xiaotao had a remarkable natural aptitude for massage — her touch was neither too heavy nor too light. Minglan sighed with inward contentment, but with the two unfamiliar maidservants still in the corner of the room, she could only maintain a dignified and composed expression. She waved them over: “What are your names?”

The two maidservants seemed quite nervous. The slightly older one stepped forward respectfully: “In response to Madam: this servant is called Xia He, and she is called Xia Zhu. The master gave orders that we are to attend to Madam.”

Having lived ten years of comfortable indulgence in the Sheng household, Minglan could see at a glance that, though these two young women’s words and manner were respectful and proper, there was a certain rigidity and nervousness about them — an uneasy, unpolished quality — that made plain they had not received long-term systematic training in the inner household arts. They had almost certainly been enrolled and hastily trained within the past six months or so.

In establishments of generations-old distinction and grandeur, close personal maidservants were generally cultivated from childhood — typically beginning service in the inner household from around the age of ten. Starting from the most basic behaviors, everything was subject to careful formation: food and meals, conduct and bearing, tea preparation and serving, dressing and grooming, hair, tidying, accounting, and even the arts of conversation with guests and the management of personal relationships — all had their proper forms. Not to mention the knowledge and perspicacity absorbed simply through daily proximity to such an environment.

There was a well-known saying: “Better to marry a maidservant from a great house than a daughter from a small one.” Minglan had once dismissed this with contempt — until she had seen Nanny Fang’s rigorous and painstaking training, after which she could only concede that common wisdom usually contained wisdom. And Nanny Fang had gone so far as to remark, not without regret, that the Sheng household had already simplified things considerably. By the standards of the former Yongyi Marquis Mansion, at least half the maidservants around Minglan would have been weeded out!

That remark had kept Little Xiaotao and the others awake with anxiety for several nights, terrified they might be sent away.

So those scenes in novels where a young master rescues a “poor girl selling herself to pay for her father’s burial,” and she begs with all her might to serve at his side and repay the kindness — such scenarios were nearly impossible in the households of the truly distinguished. Even if someone were genuinely rescued, she would first be handed over to the head maidservant for gradual training in proper conduct and etiquette, working her way up from the outer circles before any hope of personal attendance. To leap straight to the innermost circle in one step? Absolutely not. Whether you had come to repay a kindness or to snag yourself a wealthy man — ancient people understood perfectly well. The foolishness of those plots was a modern confection.

For the present, it appeared that Gu Tingye did not trust the Ningyuan Marquis Mansion’s people, and had therefore had to recruit his own staff. It was said that when the Emperor had bestowed farmlands, residences, and estates, a number of servants and tenant households had come with them — though where exactly these two young women had come from, Minglan could not be certain.

Xia He, seeing Minglan remain silent, felt a nervous uncertainty creep into her clear, fine-featured face. Minglan smiled slightly and said: “Your name is quite lovely. Who chose it?”

Xia He relaxed a little: “Nanny Chang chose it. We were selected into the household in summer.”

Minglan quietly filed away that name for future reference. Hearing these two young women speak clearly and carry themselves with some measure of ease, she felt rather well-disposed toward them. Little Xiaotao could not help offering an opinion: “Your names are so — oh no, I mean, very fine indeed.”

Minglan gave her a sideways look. Little Xiaotao remained, to this day, privately aggrieved that her own name was so commonplace.

Minglan chatted with them for a little while. Then Danju came in carrying a washbasin, followed by two other maidservants, one with a large water jug, the other with soaps and towels.

Little Xiaotao immediately rose, took the cloths, arranged a long one across Minglan’s chest, then retrieved a small, exquisite half-translucent tortoiseshell comb from her own embroidered pouch, smoothed back Minglan’s hair at the temples, and dampened another cloth. Danju, meanwhile, removed all the rings, bracelets, and the seven or eight pairs of dragon-and-phoenix gold bangles from Minglan’s hands, storing them safely away.

Minglan tilted her head slightly and let them wash her face and hands. The basin water had to be changed before every last trace of white powder was washed from Minglan’s face. Danju then opened the small travelling case they had brought along, took out several delicate porcelain bottles, and with her fingertips dabbed floral water and fragrant cream, applying it evenly to Minglan’s face, neck, and hands, and working it in with a gentle massage.

Last of all, Danju helped Minglan change into a crisp set of everyday clothes, and Little Xiaotao arranged her hair and garments.

The whole sequence of motions was smooth and practiced — clearly the work of long habit. Xia He and Xia Zhu looked on, their mouths slightly parted. The two maidservants sent by Madam Shao exchanged a glance, also quietly surprised — they had not expected a secondary daughter of a fourth-rank official’s family to keep such impressive and orderly rituals about her. In their hearts they quietly decided not to think lightly of her.

After washing and refreshing, the door was opened once again. Several maidservants and older female servants carried in an array of dishes and pastries. Nanny Cui followed behind them, overseeing the arrangement of everything on the table. She had been outside managing the arrangement of Minglan’s traveling cases and trunks until now, and had only just finished settling everything before stepping in.

The moment she entered the room and saw Minglan, she smiled: “Young lady is just the same as always — she cannot bear to have powder on her face. She must wash it all off before she is at peace.”

Minglan had just taken up her chopsticks and was chewing with puffed cheeks: “Nanny, you have no idea — it took three full changes of basin water to get rid of all that powder!”

Nanny Cui looked on with fond contentment as Minglan ate, and beckoned Danju and Little Xiaotao to have some pastries too. Little Xiaotao ate until her cheeks were round, and asked: “Nanny, is everything outside settled? Where do we sleep tonight?”

Nanny Cui pinched Little Xiaotao’s nose: “What kind of maidservant worries about herself before her mistress! … Everything is arranged. We’ll only be here a few days anyway — we’ve only opened the traveling cases for now. Once we get to the Governor-General’s mansion, we can sort everything properly.”

“Nanny has worked so hard.” Minglan made an effort to swallow a piece of hibiscus mushroom. “It is all Minglan’s fault for troubling Nanny. You were already enjoying your peaceful days, and here I’ve pulled you back in again.”

Nanny Cui lifted her handkerchief — just as she had when Minglan was small — and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “What is young lady talking about? Even if the old one here wasn’t in good health, even if young lady tried to drive me away, I still wouldn’t go.”

Minglan smiled and went back to eating with her head bowed. Nanny Cui watched her for a moment, then could not help saying: “I hear the drinking outside has been getting quite boisterous. Tonight… young lady, you should… be a bit careful. If it really comes to it… you must not simply let the young master have his way…”

Nanny Cui struggled to choose her words with great care. Minglan’s face flushed scarlet.

After eating her fill, Minglan settled in with an air of composed self-possession. She would have liked to while away the time with Little Xiaotao and Danju over a game of cards, but she supposed she ought to restrain herself in the Gu household — though she could not help letting her mind wander. The large painted dragon-and-phoenix bridal candles on the table had burned down by a full third. Minglan was nodding drowsily with her chin propped on the bedstead, when a great commotion suddenly erupted outside.

Then someone shouted:

“Second Master is returning to the chamber!”

Minglan startled wide awake, and leaped like a shrimp. She thought for a moment, then hastily sat back down again.

As the door was flung open, a wave of wine fumes swept in. Two stout older female servants half-supported and half-guided Gu Tingye inside, then lowered him carefully onto the bed. Minglan resisted looking at the drunkard beside her and kept her composure with admirable calm, smiling: “Both of you have worked hard. Danju — the red envelopes.”

Danju had grown practiced at distributing red envelopes. Each of the two women took hold of one, felt the heft of it — at least five taels of silver — and was inwardly delighted. They offered their respectful farewells and withdrew.

The moment the two women were gone, Minglan stretched out both feet and climbed off the bed — but just then, the drunkard beside her suddenly rallied. His expression was rather coherent. He appeared to be muttering something about “those disloyal wretches.”

Gu Tingye’s whole person reeked of heavy wine fumes, so overwhelming that Minglan’s brow creased. He shook his head slightly and forced himself back to alertness, then leaned his tall frame against the bed railing and regarded Minglan with half-open, narrowed eyes, a smile that was not quite a smile. Abruptly his brow furrowed: “I’ll bathe first. You get ready.”

Xia He and Xia Zhu, hearing this, immediately darted into the side room to prepare the bathtub and hot water. Gu Tingye waved a hand and stood. His steps were a little unsteady at first, but then he steadied himself and went through.

Minglan stood there behind him, at a complete loss. Nanny Cui immediately took charge, directing Little Xiaotao and Danju to help remove Minglan’s hairpins and ornaments, hang up the brilliantly embroidered red bridal gown, and change her into a soft, fine cotton inner garment — then she pulled the still-hesitating Danju and Little Xiaotao out with her and left.

Minglan chewed on her fingertip and eyed the bed heaped with great scarlet brocade covers with a feeling of deep resistance. Not long after, Gu Tingye returned alone — in a robe of snow-white silk satin, his hair still slightly damp. He dropped his tall frame onto the bed with a single motion, leaning back at an angle against the large bolster pillow, and fixed Minglan with a still, unfathomable gaze, saying nothing at all.

Under that scorching gaze, Minglan felt heat rising all over her, and her throat went dry. She gave two studied coughs: “I just had some supper — I, I… I should rinse my mouth again.” And she bolted for the side room.

Behind the partition screen, Minglan rinsed her mouth five times, performed eighteen rounds of mental preparation, and silently recited the section of the marriage law pertaining to spousal duties. Then, with courage and resolution, absolutely without hesitation, she stepped out — returned to the sleeping chamber — and just as she moved to climb onto the bed, she saw that Gu Tingye had leaned against the headboard and appeared to have drifted lightly off to sleep.

Minglan exhaled with great relief. Her whole body relaxed. She padded over barefoot to the table, poured herself a cup of tea, and drained it in one go. Before she had even set the cup back down, a voice came from behind her: “You’ve finished washing up?”

Minglan nearly choked to death. She set down the cup hastily and turned around with a coughing fit — and saw that Gu Tingye had woken at some point, his two dark, pitch-black eyes fixed directly on her, keen as glass shards. The dragon-and-phoenix red candles still burned brilliantly, their flames reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer with flowing light.

Minglan was momentarily stunned. She quickly poured a cup of tea and carried it toward him, saying with great helpfulness: “Have some water, have some water.”

Gu Tingye looked at Minglan’s smooth jade-white wrist, and felt a sudden dryness in his mouth. He took the cup and drained it in one go, then handed it back to Minglan. Minglan set the cup on the table, and stood there hovering uncertainly. Gu Tingye gave a soft laugh, his eyes carrying unmistakable implication: “Aren’t you coming to bed yet?”

Minglan took a deep breath and said loudly: “Actually — I have something I need to say to you!”

Gu Tingye waved a hand, unconcerned: “Tomorrow. Get some sleep first.” As he spoke, he slid off the bed. His legs were long and his stride wide; two steps carried him to Minglan’s side, and he closed a hand around her wrist.

“Actually, there is something important I need to tell you!” Minglan made one last attempt.

“Later.”

With a strong arm he lifted her, and Minglan felt her feet leave the ground — to be precise, she was hoisted rather than carried, facedown, so that she found herself looking at the floor with great alarm, and had no choice but to cling tightly to him. A moment later she was gently flung onto the bed.

Gu Tingye pulled a quilt over her, swept down the two layers of sheer water-red pomegranate-embroidered and thick brocade bed curtains, and turned around. There sat Minglan, her small figure curled into the corner of the bed, trembling without pause.

“I, I I, I…” She had completely lost the power of coherent speech.

“You’ve had a full day of exhaustion — you must be tired. Get some sleep.” Gu Tingye took the girl’s small hand and stroked the smooth fine skin of its back — soft to the bone, with every slender finger bone clearly felt beneath the touch.

“I’m not tired!” Minglan’s face burned scarlet. She worked through the blockage in her chest for a long moment, and at last managed a breath.

“Not tired?” The narrow slant of Gu Tingye’s eyes was practically radiating a green gleam. “Very well then.”

…… (A night passes — the reader may use their imagination.)

“Didn’t you say earlier you had something to tell me?” Gu Tingye suddenly remembered.

“Too tired to talk.” Minglan was half-dead.

“You said there was something important.” The man’s eyes and brows were all spring warmth.

“I forgot…”