Early the next morning, Minglan had someone bring out a zitan wood incense table from the storeroom. It was carefully wiped and polished dry, then set out in the main passageway to air. The grain was fine and lustrous, the wood color bright, with a faint shimmer of deep violet — clearly a thing of considerable age and quality.
“Using a piece like this to receive the edict — that’s sufficient sincerity,” Minglan murmured, running her fingers appreciatively over the wood.
Gu Tingye, dressed in a crimson robe embroidered with the qilin motif, sat composedly at the head of the main room, his eyes warmly expressive and his lips curved in a smile, his words carrying deeper meaning: “My lady is naturally sincere, and how would your husband not know it.”
Minglan’s face turned red. The previous night, this man had used the occasion to claim credit for himself, demanding that Minglan express her gratitude to him through concrete action. As a law-abiding administrator who believed in fair rewards and punishments, Minglan had exerted every last ounce of her strength to reward him most thoroughly… Rubbing her aching lower back, Minglan felt aggrieved — it was at least fortunate that this fellow had remembered there was a palace visit the next day and had restrained himself somewhat.
At around the first quarter of the chen hour, palace guards bearing umbrellas and striking gongs arrived to proclaim the edict. Gu Tingye calmly and unhurriedly escorted Minglan out. The Zhaohui Hall was opened wide, the incense table set in place, and husband and wife knelt to receive the edict. The eunuch proclaiming the edict, surnamed Xia, appeared to be about twenty-some years of age, with a broad face and straight brows, a pleasant expression, and seemed to be acquainted with Gu Tingye. Without much ceremony, he went straight to reading the edict.
The imperial edict followed the same format as an official proclamation — its structure unchanged through the ages: first expressing the Emperor’s benevolence, then praising Minglan for being “quiet in demeanor, gentle in conduct, virtuous and cautious, reverent and respectful,” and finally announcing the bestowal of the title of Second-Rank Lady. That was all.
Minglan received with both hands the ivory-and-brocade scroll bearing the phoenix-and-lion pattern — the imperial title certificate — along with a tray holding the pearl crown and the embroidered ceremonial robe. She kowtowed respectfully to give thanks for the imperial favor. Once she rose, Gu Tingye told her to go quickly and change into her formal dress, while he himself invited Eunuch Xia inside to sit for tea. The eunuch demurred politely a couple of times before entering.
“So it’s you.” The moment they were inside, Gu Tingye dropped his solemn expression, took a seat beside Eunuch Xia, and said with a grin: “Before the new year I heard you were going to the Imperial Kitchen Office to procure turnips and cabbages — how is it you’re running errands now?”
Eunuch Xia, remarkably, broke into a beaming smile and sighed: “Ah, that kind of plum posting — how could it fall to someone like me? For now I’ll just keep running these errands. But Second Master, you’ve been doing quite well for yourself these days.”
Gu Tingye shot him a look and said with a teasing grin: “Outer court officials shouldn’t be associating too closely with palace eunuchs. I won’t be keeping you. The palace security is strict right now — do take care of yourself.” As he spoke, he withdrew something from his sleeve and pressed it into Eunuch Xia’s hand. “I know you have a taste for this — I set it aside for you a while back. I’d meant to give it to you when I came to the palace today.”
The easygoing look vanished from Eunuch Xia’s face. He said in earnest: “Second Master is a straightforward man. I know it in my heart.”
The two exchanged a few more words, then Gu Tingye personally escorted the man to the door. When he turned and walked back inside, he found that Minglan was already dressed and ready.
Over her outer formal garment, she had draped a deep cerulean ceremonial robe embroidered with gold thread clouds and phoenix patterns, with phoenix-motif golden pendants hanging from its lower edge. Around her waist she wore a jade-inlaid sash. Her hair was arranged in a tightly secured round bun. Atop her head sat the pearl and kingfisher-adorned double-phoenix pearl crown. She shimmered all over with cascading jewels and ornaments.
That day, Gu Tingye did not ride. He and Minglan sat together in a spacious horse-drawn enclosed carriage, inside which a reclining cushion had been laid with a small tea table set upon it. Husband and wife sat upright on opposite sides of the table — so as not to disarrange their formal attire.
Gu Tingye steadily adjusted his black gauze winged official’s cap on his head: “Once we enter the palace, we must first go to Cining Palace to pay respects to the Empress Dowagers.”
“…Which one will we be paying respects to?” Minglan asked, holding the heavy pearl crown steady on her head, her eyes twinkling playfully.
The corner of Gu Tingye’s mouth curved in a nearly imperceptible arc. “Both at once.”
Minglan cradled her pearl crown in her hands, tilted her head back to stare at the roof of the carriage, and let her mind drift while the muffled clamor of the city streets drifted in from outside. It sounded as though quite a few shops were crying out their grand openings. “…Why would there be two Empress Dowagers?” The words slipped out before she even thought to hold them back.
“I didn’t think you would actually ask.” Gu Tingye reached out and tilted Minglan’s head back toward him, then helped her adjust the pearl crown. Her makeup was light, her appearance poised and dignified, suppressing half of her natural bright beauty — still lovely, but conveying an impression of gentle deference and decorum. This was the second time he had seen her with cosmetics applied, the first being when her bridal veil was lifted. He understood what it meant to Minglan.
Minglan saw him staring at her in a daze and gave his hand a gentle pat: “Well, go on then.”
Gu Tingye smiled. “To put it briefly, the Empress of Shengde was simply unlucky. It is said that on the very night before the Fourth Prince’s treason, the late Emperor had already drafted an edict to name the Prince as Crown Prince and elevate Defei to Empress — separated by a single day, and everything was lost. The late Emperor felt he owed her, so he elevated her to Imperial Noble Consort, and on his deathbed instructed the current Emperor to give special care to Defei’s clan. After the late Emperor passed, some ministers at court submitted a memorial requesting that Defei also be elevated to Empress, with two Empresses reigning concurrently, and the Emperor consented.”
Minglan sat quietly for a moment before offering a muted: “The Emperor is truly filial.”
Gu Tingye watched Minglan’s face. “Your expression is saying something rather different.”
Minglan narrowed her eyes, put on an air of deep profundity, and slowly shook her head: “A hat ought to match the head it sits on.”
Gu Tingye gave Minglan’s small hand a pinch, his gaze suddenly brightening, the corners of his mouth curling upward — for throughout history, an Empress Dowager was either the Emperor’s legitimate mother or birth mother. This Lady Defei qualified as neither.
“Nevertheless,” Gu Tingye added, “the Empress of Shengde has exercised authority over the phoenix seal for many years. The depth of her foundations is beyond comparison.”
Minglan felt a twinge of anxiety at this. Gu Tingye patted her hand reassuringly and said: “Don’t worry. You are not the only one receiving an imperial title today. Among those coming to pay obeisance and give thanks, there should also be the wife of Weibei Marquis, and the wife of Zheng Xiao, Left Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guard.”
Minglan brightened with pleasant surprise, cupping her cheeks in her hands: “Could it be that the Emperor deliberately waited for you before issuing these imperial titles?”
Gu Tingye gave her plump little hands a light pat and rolled his eyes at her without much grace: “One of them is the National Uncle’s wife, and the other is the Empress’s own younger sister — they were always going to receive titles. You are simply one extra person tacked on!”
Minglan took this slight to heart and rubbed her hands, muttering: “But isn’t it said that a wife’s rank rises with her husband’s, and a mother’s rank rises with her son’s? So then the Empress’s younger sister…” An Imperial Guard’s Deputy Commander was hardly enough rank to justify a title.
Gu Tingye smiled and pulled her small hand toward him, stroking it. “The Emperor is a capable ruler and knows where to draw the line. He has only bestowed the title of Lady of Refinement upon Shen Shi.”
Minglan praised the Emperor’s wisdom effusively, then had a sudden thought: “Why didn’t you marry Empress Shen’s younger sister? Wouldn’t that have made everyone part of the same family?” The words had barely left her mouth before Minglan, like a startled rabbit, quickly darted backward.
Gu Tingye showed no particular anger, and was instead quietly amused: “The Emperor returned to the capital only two years ago, and his footholds in the capital are not deep. Zheng Jun has commanded the Imperial Guard for many years and has connections throughout the major camps as well. The Duke of England is furthermore a pillar of the state. Neither of these two families has ever entangled themselves in the struggle over the succession — naturally they must be courted.”
Minglan nodded. She understood perfectly.
The Empress of Sheng’an had only one son, and mother and son had endured many years of being cold-shouldered and marginalized. Apart from the maternal clan, the Emperor had very few trustworthy people close to him. Gu Tingye already counted as one of his own. If Gu and Shen were to be joined in marriage, it would not only be a waste of resources — in the long run it would not serve the Emperor’s interests well either. To probe deeper: Gu Tingye marrying the daughter of an ordinary official was, at its root, perhaps more consistent with the Emperor’s best interests.
The wheels of the carriage rolled onward. When Minglan heard the change in outside sounds, she knew they had entered the outer imperial city. After another stretch of traveling, they arrived at the inner city gate. Both she and Gu Tingye alighted from the carriage, transferring to blue-curtained small sedan chairs and horses that had been waiting there in advance. Husband and wife proceeded separately — she in the chair, he on horseback — and when they reached the East Florescent Gate, both were obliged to continue on foot, led by a row of palace attendants walking ahead.
All the way along, Minglan dared not lift her head to look about. She kept her head lowered and followed Gu Tingye’s pace, catching only dim impressions of the palace’s broad and magnificent layout — white marble steps, corridors and pillars painted in gold and brilliant colors, everything towering and wide-open, the grandeur overwhelming.
They entered a side hall, and a middle-aged female official in stone-blue brocade worked with subtle patterns came out smiling to announce: “Gu Master and Gu Lady, please come in quickly — the Empress Dowager is waiting.”
Gu Tingye glanced sideways at Minglan and found her at this moment exceptionally composed, without a trace of nervousness or agitation. Somewhat reassured, the two followed the female official at a measured pace. They turned through two palace corridors, stepped over high thresholds, and entered the main hall.
In the purple bronze incense burners, precious ambergris burned, its faint tendrils of pale smoke curling and spreading, diffusing a distinctive fragrance throughout the room. The gleaming marble floor tiles nearly reflected a person’s image. At the head of the room, two Empress Dowagers sat in their places of honor. To the left side was seated a noble lady in imperial yellow palace attire, approximately twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age — that would be the Empress. On both sides stood decorative screens, behind which drifted the mingled scents of cosmetics and powder, with the occasional sound of pearls and hairpins clinking against one another, and the hem of brocade-embroidered skirts visible below — evidently a gathering of female relatives or palace consorts.
Gu Tingye and Minglan first knelt and kowtowed, declaring formal obeisance and gratitude for the imperial favor. A soft, gentle voice came from above: “Rise. You’ve come late — the Empress’s sister-in-law and younger sister both arrived before you.”
The Empress turned her head and laughed lightly: “Mother, please don’t blame them — their residence is far away. One edict went out to all, but naturally there are those who arrive earlier and those who arrive later.”
Minglan rose to her feet and stole a quick upward glance. She saw that the voice just now had come from the right — that Empress Dowager had a fair and delicately beautiful countenance, bearing of regal distinction, and a warm and gentle smile. The one on the left, though also well-preserved in appearance, was slightly more aged, with a hint of unease in her manner.
At that moment, Minglan formed a fairly clear understanding of which was which.
The Empress of Shengde looked Gu Tingye over twice, then said with a smile: “Getting married truly does change a person — he looks so much more amiable now.”
The Empress’s countenance was not particularly striking in beauty, but there was an open, bright quality about her brow and eyes, and one of her cheeks bore a deep dimple. She spoke before she had quite finished smiling: “Mother has a good eye. I also feel that Second Brother is much more amiable now. When the Emperor was on the southwestern frontier, Second Brother went a whole year at a stretch growing out that great beard of his. Seen from a distance he was truly ferocious. Every time he came, little Hui wouldn’t dare come out from hiding — and yet Zaifu and Zaishun were both fond of him. Now that he has a wife, he should live well from here on — Mother, don’t you agree?”
The Empress of Sheng’an beside her only smiled and murmured vaguely in response, not saying much. The Empress of Shengde did not pay much attention to Minglan — she addressed Gu Tingye in an extended discourse on the themes of “governing the family and serving the nation, loyalty and love of country,” invoking Confucius for a while, then Mencius, then even Xunzi. Minglan glanced over sideways and saw that Gu Tingye was cooperating fully, not showing the slightest impatience, while expressing deep gratitude for the Emperor’s recent gifts of seventy thousand taels of silver, seven hectares of land, and countless bolts of silk and brocade.
The Empress of Shengde was very talkative. The Empress chimed in occasionally. The Empress of Sheng’an and Minglan found themselves in the audience. As the conversation went on, it turned to the matter of border trade. The Empress of Shengde brought up the garrison duties of her father and brother, of the Funing Marquisate, at the frontier: “When the northern barbarians invaded, the Emperor acted in urgent necessity and had my father and brothers step down from their positions at the frontier. Now that the frontier is at peace, I wonder whether border trade might be restored?”
Gu Tingye replied: “Though the northern barbarians have been driven back, the frontier army has suffered considerable losses. Without adequate military protection, border trade would be difficult to conduct profitably…”
At this moment, a palace attendant came from outside and announced: “The Emperor is in the Imperial Study with the ministers in audience. He inquires whether Gu Master has arrived — the Emperor has matters to discuss and requests that Gu Master proceed there immediately after paying obeisance.”
The Empress of Shengde seemed somewhat disappointed, but still smiled and said: “Since the Emperor has official business, you may go first. Leave your wife here to chat with me.”
Gu Tingye bowed in assent. Before turning to leave, he cast a sideways glance at Minglan — his expression carrying a trace of concern. Minglan gave a slight nod to indicate he should not worry, and he then followed the palace attendant out of Cining Palace.
The moment Gu Tingye had gone, the Empress immediately called for the screens on both sides to be removed. From the left emerged a young noblewoman; from the right walked four ladies in palace attire. They all approached smiling, gradually clustering near the seat of honor at the head of the room, looking down to assess Minglan. Minglan cried out inwardly — wonderful. The target had shifted.
“Come closer — let me get a proper look at you.” The Empress of Shengde smiled and beckoned to Minglan.
Minglan heard this and slowly made her way forward. It was the most careful she had ever walked in her entire life. Following Nanny Kong’s teachings, she moved so that her skirt hem did not sway — not stiff or affected, yet conveying with every gesture and expression the full depth of reverence and warmth.
The Empress of Shengde drew Minglan’s hand toward her and looked her over carefully, then sighed with appreciation: “Everyone says Second Brother Gu’s new wife is a beauty. Seeing her today, she is indeed lovely.”
Minglan did not know how to respond to this, so she simply lowered her long lashes in a show of bashfulness — thinking privately: your appearance is also quite fine; if there were an opportunity, she would have to introduce the Empress to a certain Lady Gong Xuehua.
The Empress also studied Minglan repeatedly, and seeing her manner and movements graceful and flawless throughout, could not help but remark: “Second Brother is blessed. Looks are one thing, but I can see she is proper and dignified in her conduct — I find her very pleasing. Did your family engage an instructress?”
Minglan answered deferentially: “Several years ago, we did engage one.”
“Which instructress was it? Was she from the palace?” the Empress asked.
“She came from the palace — she was Nanny Kong, from the original Department of Palace Attendants.”
“Nanny Kong?” The Empress of Sheng’an spoke up for the first time. Her voice was somewhat husky, as though she suffered from an unresolved cold and cough. “Was she the one with the square face — quite tall?”
“Yes,” Minglan replied with a smile. “She has a mole on her left forehead.”
A faint smile crossed the Empress of Sheng’an’s somewhat aged features: “Nanny Kong was a senior figure in the palace, with a kind and upright character… She was a very good person. How is she now?”
“She writes from time to time. She says she has acquired some farmland in her home village, spends her days in leisurely ease, has a devoted nephew, and is living very well.” Minglan glanced sideways at the Empress of Shengde, who appeared to be paying little attention and was sipping her tea with her head lowered.
The Empress of Sheng’an seemed genuinely attached to Nanny Kong and asked Minglan a great many questions. In truth, Nanny Kong’s health had long since declined; she was simply enduring her final years as best she could. Minglan could not say this directly, and so measured her words and conveyed it in gentle, indirect phrasing.
The Empress of Sheng’an’s gaze grew melancholy, her voice subdued: “She toiled away inside the palace her whole life. If she can live her final years in comfort, that is well — however many years that may be.”
Minglan watched her quietly. The Empress of Sheng’an showed none of the worldly sleekness common to palace life. Instead she carried a kind of instinctive, unguarded sincerity. She seemed to know that she spoke things imperfectly, and so by nature preferred to stay largely silent.
A few more words were exchanged, and the Empress offered seats to everyone. Only then did Minglan have the chance to rest her aching legs. She listened to their conversation while quietly attempting to identify each person present. The four ladies in palace attire were all imperial consorts: one — exceptionally cold and alluring in bearing — was the currently most favored Rong Fei; a second, petite and delicately pretty with skin white as snow, was the newly titled Yu Zhaoy; the remaining two were women who had attended the Emperor since his days as a prince in his private residence, one holding the rank of Jieyu, the other that of Cairen. In summary: since the Emperor was still in mourning and had not yet held a broad selection of consorts, the harem at this time had considerable room for ambition — she wondered if any enterprising transmigrators had any interest in pursuing that path.
As for the young noblewoman who had been conversing at the Empress’s side: the one dressed in the most magnificent attire and talking and laughing with the most animated energy was naturally the Empress’s younger sister, the younger Shen lady, who bore a notable resemblance to her sister. Behind her stood a refined-looking young matron — the new wife of the National Uncle Shen, a young lady from the Duke of England’s household. Then there was one more soft and graceful woman whom Minglan had not been able to place for quite some time — until at last she caught enough of the conversation to work it out. That woman was actually the younger sister of the National Uncle’s original wife, the younger Zou lady! She was the younger sister of the late first wife.
And she had received the title of Fifth-Rank Lady of Propriety as well?! And she was on such familiar and affectionate terms with the Empress — the Duke of England’s household was truly that accommodating?!
Gu Tingye had given Minglan a thorough briefing on the Empress’s family background the previous night.
The Eighth Prince had been an unfavored imperial son, with a feudal territory in remote and impoverished terrain, and so no prominent family was willing to make a match with him. The Empress’s father had been Shen Wang, a renowned scholar of Jinzhong — his family was also well-regarded locally — but unfortunately his parents had died young, and the Shen siblings could only depend on the goodwill of their clan. Their uncle had arranged for the Empress to be married to the Eighth Prince.
At that point, Minglan had immediately concluded: “The Shen clan must have treated these siblings badly!”
Gu Tingye had been astonished: “How did you know?”
Minglan had answered: “The Emperor is at a moment of great need for capable people — yet no one from the Shen clan has entered government service. How great must their accumulated resentment be to leave it so!”
Gu Tingye had expressed his approval and affirmation with a bear hug.
Following the principle of diminishing returns — the Eighth Prince’s wife’s family had already been of lesser standing; presumably the family of Shen Congxing’s wife would be even more modest.
The Zou family were no more than an ordinary household of scholarly background. The grandfather had been a county magistrate, who had passed away some years ago; the father was a provincial examination graduate. The eldest daughter had married into the Shen family and given birth to children there — and yet even by now, no particularly distinguished talent had emerged from the family.
But their most crushing misfortune was not the absence of talent among their sons. No — it was that just when they had begun to believe that their elder daughter’s husband’s younger brother had ascended the throne as Emperor, and their elder son-in-law had become the National Uncle, with wealth and glory almost within reach — their daughter had died.
The entire Zou household had practically been on the verge of coughing up blood in grief. What manner of catastrophe was this!
If Shen Congxing had been an ordinary widower, then taking the younger sister-in-law as his next wife would have been entirely unproblematic. But Shen’s family was now the preeminent first-rank maternal clan, their position at its most gilded peak — the Empress of Sheng’an came from such obscure origins that her maternal family was long since untraceable — and the Zou family’s standing was clearly far too humble for the match.
Minglan glanced gently at the new Shen Lady, then looked at the younger Zou lady laughing and chatting with the Empress. Her thoughts turned quickly, and in a moment the whole picture became clear to her. So this was how the final compromise had been reached. And somehow — inexplicably — she found herself thinking of Gu Tingye’s birth mother, Lady Bai, and felt an unexpected twinge of pity for this Shen Lady.
The Duke of England’s household needed the Shen family to consolidate their relationship with the new Emperor. The National Uncle needed the deep-rooted, extensive Duke of England’s household to strengthen his own power. The Zou family needed to maintain their ties with the Shen family through marriage and to protect the interests of the first Lady Zou’s children. Each party got what they needed, and so this peculiar, fragile harmony had come into being.
Minglan felt an unbidden heaviness settle in her heart. She asked herself honestly: if she had found herself in such a situation, could she have resisted the pressures of family and refused the marriage outright, without wavering? She bit down on her resolution. Ancient times were truly no place for women.
After perhaps the length of time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the Empress judged the visit to be concluding and led Minglan and the other three newly titled ladies in taking their leave of the two Empress Dowagers. Walking out of Cining Palace, the Empress told Minglan and the younger Shen lady to head back first — she needed to speak privately with the Shen Lady and the younger Zou lady at Kunning Palace.
The younger Shen lady caught hold of the Empress’s sleeve and wheedled: “Sister is so unfair! Could it be there’s something good to eat over there, and you want to treat the two sisters-in-law first?!”
The Empress pointed at her and laughed and scolded: “How old are you, still thinking about food and drink all day? Just wait until I tell your mother-in-law and have her properly set you straight!… All right, don’t let everyone laugh at you. I have things to discuss with your sisters-in-law. Lady Gu is entering the palace for the first time today — you escort her on the way out and use the time to get better acquainted.”
The younger Shen lady laughed and agreed. Minglan made a formal double curtsy of farewell — her posture beautifully poised and elegant, achieved without any visible contortion of her figure, yet carrying with it a naturally flowing grace. The younger Shen lady seemed momentarily transfixed, then briskly took her leave of the Empress and hooked her arm through Minglan’s as they walked away.
All the way along, the younger Shen lady chattered without pause, enthusiastically introducing Minglan to the scenery they passed. Minglan simply listened with a slight smile, occasionally adding a word or two in response. They gradually made their way out of the Cining Palace precinct and headed toward the East Florescent Gate. Then, out of nowhere, the younger Shen lady asked: “…What do you think the Empress is talking to my two sisters-in-law about? Is there something they shouldn’t let me hear?”
Minglan’s thoughts paused for just an instant. She smiled and said: “Most likely, sisters-in-law talking privately. When there are fewer people, it is easier to speak from the heart.”
It was not hard to guess at all. Earlier in Cining Palace, Shen Lady had sat as the senior woman while the younger Zou lady deferred to her formally — the two appeared harmonious on the surface, yet had not exchanged a single direct glance or spoken a single word to each other from start to finish. Moreover, as an outer court noblewoman, one could not come to the palace every day. The Empress was probably seizing this opportunity to give the National Uncle’s wife and concubine a kind of moral education — teaching them the proper conduct between primary wife and secondary concubine.
And yet… Minglan found herself privately amused. Was it not the Shen household themselves who had first broken the rules governing that relationship?
Bestowing an imperial title upon a concubine was already exceedingly rare. Unless a woman’s son had performed some truly exceptional service of merit for the country — in which case the mother’s rank could be elevated based on the son’s — how many concubines across all the dynasties had ever received an imperial title without bearing children? It was virtually unheard of!
Most likely the Shen family felt they owed too great a debt to the Zou family for standing by them through difficult times and wished to offer some form of recompense. At the same time, they remained mindful of the Duke of England’s influence. Otherwise, the younger Zou lady ought to have been able to attain the position of equal wife. As matters stood, however, the younger Zou lady’s standing as a concubine was barely distinguishable in practice from that of an equal wife.
The younger Shen lady had been gazing blankly into the distance toward the imperial garden, but now she stopped abruptly and looked directly at Minglan: “You think the Shen family is quite shameless, don’t you? My elder brother married Lady Zhang, then took in the younger Zou lady — first disregarding his original wife’s deep-rooted bond, then currying favor with wealth and power?”
Minglan was pulled a few steps backward by her grip. Once she had heard it out, she gave a light smile and said: “Such gossip is mostly spread by people eaten up with jealousy. There is no need to take it seriously.” — Needless to say: if you want to have it both ways, you must naturally expect twice the criticism.
“And what is your own view?” The younger Shen lady still held Minglan firmly, pressing her to take a position.
Minglan looked ahead at the tightly closed palace gate, where the guards stood in solemn order and palace maids and eunuchs moved busily back and forth. She let out a soft, quiet sigh. “In my view,” she said slowly, “when such situations cause difficulty, it is mostly the men who come out the better for it, and mostly the women who bear the cost.”
The younger Shen lady’s expression shifted. The playful, carefree manner vanished. She composed her face into a look of sober seriousness and stared at Minglan for a long while. Then, at length, she suddenly broke into a wide smile: “You are an interesting person — I like you. I shall come and visit you often from now on!”
Minglan was amused by this, and laughed despite herself: “I am most honored.”
— That she could ask such a question showed that the younger Shen lady was not without her own thoughts and perceptions. A young woman who possessed this kind of frank and spirited boldness was not entirely unworthy of befriending.