Minglan’s expression of shy embarrassment lasted only until the moment she crossed the threshold back into the room. She walked in with her head lowered, and immediately a large hand reached over and caught hers. She looked up to find Gu Tingye gazing at her with concern, a trace of genuine contrition in his expression: “I apologize. I forgot about you.”

Minglan was not particularly angry. The first day of marriage had already been so eventful that she was honestly rather weary. She let out a low sigh: “Being your wife is truly not easy.”

Gu Tingye was silent for a long moment and simply led Minglan gently inside. Then Minglan caught a scent of food. Looking up, she saw that the small double-happiness rosewood side table had already been laid with dishes: golden snow-sugar caramelized corn cakes, fragrant red bean coconut rolls, several dishes of seasonal pastries, and the fresh cat’s ear pasta soup that Minglan especially loved — the rich broth sending up a warm fragrance. Minglan brightened at once, and sat down with happy eagerness. She turned to him with a wide smile: “Did you have this prepared for me?”

Gu Tingye, who had been in rather a dark mood, felt something unknot in his chest at the sight of Minglan’s childlike delight: “It just arrived. The matron at your side is very quick with her hands.” He pressed a pair of chopsticks into Minglan’s fingers. “Eat quickly — there is still much to do this afternoon.”

Minglan hesitated: “But the midday meal will be served soon…”

“Facing that lot — could you actually bring yourself to eat?” Gu Tingye asked, lifting one eyebrow.

Minglan immediately stabbed at the first bite.

Seeing Minglan eat with such appetite, Gu Tingye smiled and helped himself to rather more than he might have otherwise.

“No one is competing with you — there is no need to rush.” Gu Tingye watched Minglan’s cheeks puffed up full and round, yet still gamely maintaining an air of dignified composure, her snow-white face still carrying the warmth of the morning light, her lips fresh and pink as a lotus root in June. Looking at that face, his heart felt inexplicably clear and warm.

“Just now… were you frightened?” Gu Tingye asked with some hesitation. Knowing his own relatives as he did, he guessed they would not have let Minglan off easily — they had likely given his new little wife quite a verbal thrashing.

Minglan shook her cheeks and shook her head, swallowing a mouthful with effort: “Not in the least. I even gave them a rather fine rebuttal on your behalf!” One must always trumpet one’s own good deeds — the custom of doing good without seeking recognition was decidedly out of fashion.

Gu Tingye grew interested, brow lifted: “You talked back?”

At the mention of her own battlefield achievements, Minglan’s face lit up. She set down the soup spoon and chopsticks and gave a crisp, succinct account of what had transpired, capturing Lord Lu’s manner of speaking to perfection, and giving a lively depiction of every face and reaction in the room.

Gu Tingye’s eyes grew bright as she spoke, the corner of his mouth curving like the tip of a crescent moon.

When she finished, Minglan seemed still not quite satisfied: “…It is a good thing it was me and not my elder brother — if Changbai had gotten hold of them, well… with one of his disquisitions on loyalty, filial piety, integrity, and righteousness, Fourth Uncle and Fifth Uncle would likely have ended up kneeling in the ancestral hall begging pardon from the ancestors!” This was no exaggeration — Elder Brother Changbai said very little, but whenever he opened his mouth, every word landed like a blade. His own mother, Lady Wang, could attest to that from deep personal experience.

Gu Tingye’s long-clouded face finally opened into a full smile. He reached out and flicked Minglan’s pert little nose, warmth and tenderness filling his eyes, his low voice rich as aged wine: “I had nearly convinced myself I’d thrown you into a den of wolves. Just now I was almost frightened out of my wits.”

Minglan bit down on her chopsticks, her smile blossoming bright, a faint blush rising in her cheeks: “I am not afraid of wolves — I only feared having no one to stand behind me.”

Something in Gu Tingye’s chest nearly dissolved entirely: “I will stand behind you! Whatever you wish to do, I will stand behind you!”

When Minglan was happy, she became immensely endearing. Drawing on all her talent for delighting Old Madam, she leaned against Gu Tingye’s shoulder, laughing like a little sunflower, round and beaming as a little squirrel as she ladled soup and arranged food in his bowl. Even the worldly-wise Gu Tingye felt half his bones go soft — he could only wish it were not broad daylight, and that they were not in so inconvenient a setting.

Gu Tingye cleared his throat with a touch of awkwardness and placed a cherry-glazed steamed meatball in Minglan’s bowl, deftly steering the conversation: “You… have no wish to ask about Fourth Uncle and Fifth Uncle?”

It was the usual expectation that a new bride encountering such a scene for the first time would rush to question her husband about it.

Minglan remembered with a delayed start: “Oh, right — why? Did you not say the Mistress had already agreed to let us move out? Why are they still treating you so badly?”

It was a well-aimed question, assigning blame directly from the very first word, and Gu Tingye’s brow smoothed at once with satisfaction. His lingering sullenness swept away, he replied with a smile: “I was always getting into mischief as a boy. The Mistress, mindful of her position as a stepmother, never felt at liberty to say too much. So it was always my uncles or their wives who went to carry tales to my father. On many a matter, it was always the same.”

Minglan chewed over the meaning of this slowly, and gave a quiet private scoff. She looked at him with bright, dancing eyes — half amused, half composed — biting her pink lips and drawing out her tone just slightly: “What a fine household the Gu family is — uncle and sister-in-law in perfect harmony, sisters-in-law warm as old friends, the whole family above and below one great, joyous gathering. What fortunate stars must have guided me here.”

Gu Tingye laughed. He particularly loved the way Minglan spoke in this manner — like a mischievous child deliberately playing the guileless simpleton, and not quite pulling it off. They joked and chatted a little longer, and then someone came from outside to announce the midday meal. Gu Tingye took Minglan’s small hand and led her out, murmuring a string of quiet reminders as they walked.

In truth, Minglan felt Gu Tingye’s concern was now unnecessary. After such an episode, by the time of the banquet, everyone would naturally want to project an image of warm, harmonious family life. Yao the Half-Immortal had indeed earned her reputation — at the feast, no one raised the earlier unpleasantness again.

At the men’s table, Gu Tingye set aside his cold expression and performed appropriately as a respectful junior; the two Uncles were sensible enough to recognize when pushing harder would get them nowhere, and played along by drinking a few conciliatory cups. At the ladies’ table, Minglan continued her practice of deflecting most questions with modest, bashful responses in the pattern of statement and repetition, and when she truly could not deflect something, she answered honestly.

The Fifth Mistress, impressed by Minglan’s evident cultivation, could not help asking: “Did you study in a women’s academy? Which teacher instructed you?” Across the table, Gu Tingcan, who had been quietly eating with her head down, suddenly looked up at these words and fixed her gaze on Minglan.

Minglan set down her chopsticks, smoothed the golden ornament on her sleeve cuff, and smiled: “I did not attend a women’s academy. When I was around six or seven years old, my grandmother invited a retired palace Nanny to teach us sisters for a short time.”

Gu Tingcan, hearing it was a court etiquette Nanny, gave a slight curl of her lips and lowered her head again. The Fifth Mistress shook her head: “That cannot account for it — palace etiquette Nannies generally teach comportment and rules of conduct. Did you study with any other teacher?”

Pressed, Minglan had to say: “In the year my father was appointed as Governor of Dengzhou, he engaged a Master Zhuang from the capital as a residential tutor for my elder brothers. As my sisters and I were young at the time, we were allowed to sit in on lessons for a few days.”

This time Gu Tingcan’s interest was roused; her eyes lit up, and her lips moved as though she were about to speak, but she held back. The Mistress, smiling with elegant grace, the large pearl on her delicate white jade and silver hairpin swaying gently: “Could that be the Master Zhuang who once opened a private school at Chief Minister Shen’s country estate?”

Minglan’s breath paused for just a fraction of a second. Then her expression returned to normal: “The very one.”

The Mistress clapped her hands and smiled: “Now there was a truly excellent teacher — what great fortune for you sisters, to have received his instruction! No wonder you speak with such clarity and structure, having trained under such a distinguished master. From now on, your younger sisters ought to look to you — none of this muddle-headed blathering. Today, please do not take offense at your younger sister Tingcan; she has been too much indulged by me.”

Tingcan finally could not contain herself. The pale blue stone earrings at her ears swayed faintly, and she turned to the Mistress with a pout: “Mother, that is entirely your fault! You never arranged a good teacher for us from the start, and now you say things like that about us sisters!”

The Mistress’s expression shifted slightly, but it was not the place to openly reprimand her. From the side, Elder Sister-in-law Xuan laughed: “You, you! Master Zhuang teaches scholars sitting their examinations for the imperial court — not young ladies of noble households. If you want to blame anyone, blame your various brothers for not knowing their Confucian classics! Ah well… there is no use depending on them. Fortunately, young Master Xian and the several nephews of the Fifth Branch are all showing great promise — it seems we may rely on them in the future!”

These words reflected well on both the Fifth Mistress and Zhu Shi; everyone present was gratified. Minglan quietly took a few extra looks at Elder Sister-in-law Xuan. Though she spoke a bit bluntly and without much polish, her manner was natural and thorough, and she was clearly attentive to the unmarried sister-in-law beside her — Tingying, the only daughter of the Fourth Mistress, the second wife. By contrast, the eldest daughter-in-law of the Fifth Branch made a somewhat weaker impression, being rather timid in manner; while the concubine-born daughter of the Fifth Branch, Tingling, was the most poised and composed — easy in conversation and warmly cheerful.

Come to think of it, Tingcan, Tingying, and Tingling — all three of these cousins-in-law were beautiful girls. Tingcan was like a rare lingzhi mushroom growing from a lone cliff face — ethereally elegant and self-contained. Tingying was more gently dignified and demure. And Tingling was a gracious and understanding flower — soft and endearing.

At long last the meal drew to a close, and the maids and matrons cleared away the dishes. The impending departure was near, when the Mistress summoned Minglan to the inner chamber. Minglan’s heart sank quietly: Here we go again. What is it this time?

Gu Tingye’s expression grew somewhat heavy. He considered for a moment, then looked directly at Minglan: “I will go with you. Say as little as possible and let me handle it.”

Minglan nodded.

In the west side chamber of the main courtyard, the Mistress was seated in the upper seat, with only Lady Shao and Zhu Shi seated on either side. They were in conversation when the maid at the door announced visitors. The Mistress turned to greet them with a smile — then noticed with some surprise that Gu Tingye had come as well.

The Mistress’s expression remained unchanged. Zhu Shi rose at once to call for tea, then went to sit beside Lady Shao. Gu Tingye bowed to the Mistress and Lady Shao; Minglan curtseyed alongside him. Then Gu Tingye went to sit in the upper chair on the right side. Minglan was once again at a loss — should she go sit on the daughters-in-law’s side, or should she sit beside Gu Tingye? Gu Tingye gave two deliberate coughs and cast a meaningful glance her way. Minglan immediately went to sit beside him. Seeing the two of them conduct themselves this way, Lady Shao and Zhu Shi exchanged a glance, each with their own private thoughts.

“Why have you come as well?” The Mistress set down her teacup with warm familiarity. “Your wife knowing would be sufficient.” Without waiting for Gu Tingye’s reply, she gave a gentle sigh. “Well, since you are here, that is fine too. Your wife has not been home a full day, and already so much has arisen — she could hardly be expected to manage it all unaided. I imagine you already know what I have called you here for?”

Gu Tingye sat with straight back: “It is concerning Rong Jie’er, I take it.”

Minglan’s heart stirred. So it was this matter — she already knew something of it.

The Mistress smiled and nodded, then signaled to Matron Xiang, who turned and went out. She then continued: “Since you have already surmised, I will not go on at length. Ah… I had intended to wait a few days, until Minglan had settled in, and then speak to her in more detail — but since you are leaving at once, I must speak now.”

Gu Tingye rose from his seat, bowed deeply toward the Mistress and Lady Shao, and said solemnly: “In my youth I was reckless and did things I should not have. These past two years, it is Elder Sister-in-law who has given her help, looking after Rong Jie’er. Tingye holds this in deepest gratitude.”

Lady Shao rose quickly to return the bow: “We are all family — there is no need for such formality. Rong Jie’er is also a good child; she and Xian’er are very close. Truly speaking, I have not done very much — it is Hongxiao who has been with Rong Jie’er all this time.”

Gu Tingye’s expression grew sober once more. Before he could say anything further, the bed curtain shifted — Matron Xiang came in, leading two women and a small girl.

The two women made a graceful curtsy to the assembled company, then stood quietly with folded hands at the lower end of the room.

Minglan looked carefully. The woman on the left wore an apricot-colored good-luck-bordered diagonal-front long jacket, approximately seventeen or eighteen years of age, with a pretty oval face and almond eyes with rosy cheeks. The woman on the right wore a plain ivory-yellow double-breasted jacket with rose-colored trim; she was older — around twenty-seven or twenty-eight — with an oval face of considerable beauty. Between them stood a small girl of about seven or eight, dressed in a pale red jacket trimmed with deep red wide borders, slight and frail in build, with a timid expression — and in her features, faint traces of the delicate beauty of the one called Man Niang, as Minglan remembered her from years past.

The Mistress turned to Minglan with a gentle smile: “Rong Jie’er — come now and pay your respects to your father and mother.”

The little girl’s eyes darted immediately toward Lady Shao; seeing Lady Shao give a slight nod, she took one trembling step at a time toward the front, then knelt and knocked her head in a bow, calling out softly: “…Father.”

Gu Tingye looked at her, his expression complex. He gave a brief nod.

“And your mother?” the Mistress prompted with a smile.

Rong Jie’er was timid and shy. She snuck a glance at Minglan out of the corner of her eye, then bit her lip, unable to produce the sound.

Minglan very much wished to offer a few thoughts, and so looked to Gu Tingye. Gu Tingye gave a quiet wave of his hand and said to Rong Jie’er: “You may call her Mistress.”

Everyone’s expression shifted at once. Lady Shao said reluctantly: “She should call her Mother — Rong Jie’er, come now, call out!”

But Rong Jie’er simply could not bring herself to do it. The woman on the right opened her mouth several times, glanced at the woman on the left, and in the end said nothing. Gu Tingye took no notice of anyone else; he simply looked directly at Rong Jie’er and said: “If you do not wish to say Mother, then say Mistress.”

Rong Jie’er’s expression turned stubborn, and she blurted out: “Mistress!”

Lady Shao shook her head with a look of regret but said no more. Zhu Shi bent her head over her teacup. The Mistress fixed a long, searching look on Minglan — and Minglan felt entirely wronged, having not yet said a single word through all of this.

A matron stepped in and guided Rong Jie’er to sit on a small stool to one side, where she was offered tea and pastries. Then the Mistress pointed to the two women and addressed Minglan: “These two are Tingye’s household women. This one is Concubine Gong — Rong Jie’er has had her to thank these past two years. This one is Qiu Niang — she has been Tingye’s personal maid since childhood, and later became his chamber attendant.”

The two women stepped forward at once to pay their respects to Minglan. Minglan was dismayed — she had not brought sachets this time — and after rummaging about in her sleeve for a good while, she slipped off two gold bangles from her wrist, one for each.

When they raised their heads to offer thanks, both women could not help glancing toward Gu Tingye. Concubine Gong’s gaze was wounded and full of unspoken feeling. Qiu Niang, however, looked on the verge of joyful tears. Gu Tingye, meanwhile, was frowning as he looked over at Rong Jie’er.

Once the introductions were complete, the Mistress addressed Minglan: “Since you are moving to a separate household, they will naturally follow you.”

Minglan nodded, and before she could even open her mouth, Gu Tingye spoke first: “Naturally they will come over — but things are still somewhat unsettled at the new residence for the moment. Best to wait a few days, until everything is in order, and then I will send for them.”

A flicker passed across the Mistress’s eyes; she fell briefly silent. Concubine Gong, however, immediately knelt before Minglan and said: “This servant is willing to come over now. Clumsy as I am, when Mistress is managing the household affairs I could at least run errands and carry messages!”

Gu Tingye said lightly: “Do you not have Rong Jie’er to look after?”

Concubine Gong’s face went white. Beside her, Qiu Niang was about to speak, but Gu Tingye looked at her and his tone softened considerably: “The two of you stay here for now. I will come to collect you.” Qiu Niang immediately fell silent, though excitement shone clear in her eyes.

Minglan ran her fingers over the row of bangles still on her wrist, thinking to herself: Why only two? Shouldn’t there be enough at least to clear both wrists, to live up to Second Master Gu’s reputation out in the world?

Reflecting further, Minglan understood: when Second Master Gu had fled the household — essentially been driven out — those chamber attendants and concubines, seeing no future in it, had likely found their way out through other means. Or perhaps they had simply been dismissed by someone above. Why would one go on supporting many mouths to feed for a man who had been expelled and was essentially never coming back? As for these two who had remained — well. That was a great deal of depth to plumb.

The Mistress had intended to say more to Minglan privately, but with Gu Tingye present, the assembled ladies all felt a degree of restraint, and the gathering broke up quickly. Qiu Niang and Hongxiao seemed to want to follow, but Gu Tingye moved fast, and Minglan had to take a few quick steps just to keep up.

They exited through the eastern courtyard and stepped into a small side path. Only then did Gu Tingye slow his pace. He supported Minglan’s arm as she caught her breath; once her breathing had steadied, the two made their way slowly along a tree-shaded lane.

“Do you… have anything you wish to say?” Gu Tingye said at last.

Minglan had been suppressing questions for quite a while, and immediately asked what she most wanted to know: “Qiu Niang looks far more composed and older than Concubine Gong — why has she not yet been elevated to Yiniang status? Is it because her background is insufficient, and that is why she could not be the one to raise Rong Jie’er?”

Gu Tingye had not expected this to be Minglan’s first question. Something in his expression visibly relaxed. He said quietly: “Hongxiao came as an attendant from the Yu family household — she was personally elevated to Yiniang by Yan Hong. As for Qiu Niang… the fact that she was able to remain at all is already no small thing.”

Two sentences, two women, two very different circumstances. Minglan filed this away.

They walked on for a while longer. Gu Tingye waited, and finally could not help himself: “Do you — have nothing else to say?”

Minglan had been lost in thought, and looked up in a blankly puzzled way: “Say… what?”

Gu Tingye stopped and looked at her steadily, his tone matter-of-fact: “You are unhappy.”

“Why would I be unhappy?” Minglan looked genuinely puzzled.

Gu Tingye studied her carefully, his gaze dark and deep: “Because of Qiu Niang and Hongxiao. That is why you are unhappy.”

Minglan smiled and shook her hand: “No such thing — you are imagining things…” The words weren’t out before she was cut off.

“You do not like them, do you?” Gu Tingye pressed straight on.

Minglan waved her hand and laughed pleasantly: “I am not the sort who cannot tolerate others — I think…” Cut off again.

“Are you jealous?” Gu Tingye frowned deeply.

“Of course not! Listen to me — The Admonitions for Women says…” She was trying to explain, and was cut off once more.

“Be quiet!” Gu Tingye suddenly growled under his breath, startling Minglan.

He drew a long breath. His expression was dark and fathomless, his eyes opaque as black ink, authority radiating from him naturally, his tall frame pressing down like a mountain. Minglan was startled into silence. Then, slowly, he said: “I have told you — I have heard enough false words in my life. I want you to speak from your heart. The truth!”

Minglan thought to herself: But she could not speak entirely from her heart, or she would be hauled off and burned as a witch!

Minglan lowered her head and said nothing. Gu Tingye waited in silence, using only the weight of his stillness to pressure her into speaking. Finally, unable to endure it, Minglan sighed quietly and chose a different approach — more oblique, more contained: “The founding Emperor of this dynasty had a particular fondness for bestowing beauties on his ministers. Yet whenever he made such gifts, he always avoided those who had married Imperial Princesses — the generals and marquises, those who had fought alongside him to build the empire, who held the same ranks and the same achievements. Why grant beauties to some, but not to those men? Why the distinction?”

Gu Tingye’s pupils contracted and expanded slightly; something moved in his gaze. Minglan looked at him with a quiet smile and said softly: “Even a bold and unrestrained hero like the founding Emperor understood this quite clearly — and in truth, all of you men understand it in your hearts perfectly well. There is no need to ask.”

A wife who is genuinely delighted when her husband takes concubines — why would an emperor start by prioritizing the Imperial Princesses’ husbands if that were the case?

The history of emperors bestowing beauties went back a very long way indeed. Lady Fang Xuanling, when faced with such an imperial gift, had supposedly drunk what she believed to be poison — in fact only vinegar — setting the precedent of a formidable wife resisting the emperor’s granted beauties.

The founding Emperor had been a licentious man, and since he loved beauties himself, he most enjoyed granting them to others. It was said that at the time, the wife of the Duke of England had stood at the gate with two kitchen knives, declaring that if those beauties dared cross the threshold, blood would flow — and then she herself would follow. The Duke had been so terrified that he prostrated himself on the palace steps and begged for days before the founding Emperor withdrew the gift.

Emperor Taizong Wu had also occasionally bestowed beauties. The wife of the Marquis of Han had been even more formidable: she brought her young daughters with her, piled up straw and oil, and declared that if the beauties entered the house, she and her daughters would not live. The Marquis had been so beside himself with fear that he clung to Emperor Wu’s leg, sobbing and wailing, for half a day before the crisis was averted.

Of course, there were also men who accepted the beauties with delight and considered it an honor. In truth, the problem always lay with the men themselves.

This was a rather novel argument. Gu Tingye listened, nodding quietly, then looked directly at Minglan: “But I already have concubines.”

“Yes.” Minglan’s eyes curved upward in a gentle smile: “And so I will care for Rong Jie’er, and get along harmoniously with Qiu Niang and Hongxiao, and be a very virtuous and devoted wife. Truly! I mean it!”

Throughout all of history, men and women had not evolved so very differently from one another. The wife of a man atop the Forbes list of the wealthiest might endure and say nothing — but the wife of a street vendor? Even if she did not divorce him, at minimum she would grab a kitchen knife and make a proper scene. The reason was simple: the balance of power and wealth. Minglan was the concubine-born daughter of a fourth-ranked official; he was a brilliantly prominent nobleman of the highest rank. His fist was bigger than hers. And so she could only be “virtuous.”

It really was that simple.

Minglan’s words were perfectly sincere, and Gu Tingye had every reason to believe them reliable — yet his expression only darkened further. His brow furrowed deeply, his gaze turning inexplicably fierce. He stared at Minglan as though he wanted to take a bite out of her.

Minglan was immediately on her guard. Seeing how the wind was blowing, she hastily issued further assurances — all but beating her chest and swearing oaths: “I absolutely will not scheme against anyone! You must believe me — I will treat them all well. Just you wait and see!” How pitiful. If she had been this sincere back when applying to join the Party, she would have been inducted in no time.

Gu Tingye’s face had gone dark as the bottom of a pot; storm clouds gathered in his eyes, his expression oppressive, his breathing heavy against Minglan’s face. The two of them stood facing each other in a stiff, brooding silence. Minglan was growing anxious, wondering if she ought to swear some great oath to more convincingly express the sincerity of her heart.

After a long time, Gu Tingye exhaled heavily, took her hand, and with his head bowed continued walking forward in silence. Minglan stared, at a complete loss, stealing glances at his profile. She felt she had been quite restrained and tactful in everything she said, and had made her resolution abundantly clear — so why on earth was he still angry?

Men and women truly were from different planets.