Because memories of his late father had been stirred up, Gu Tingye did nothing untoward that night. He simply held Minglan and lay quietly; between them, there was no conversation through the middle of the night. Minglan had exhausted herself that day, and against all expectation fell asleep in the arms of that man who was like a furnace. Gu Tingye gently stroked Minglan’s fine, silky dark hair. On her fair and delicate face there were already faint traces of weariness. He felt quite tender toward her. He thought of Rong Jie’er, who was to arrive the next day, and of Chang Ge’er, far away elsewhere — these two children he had never truly wished to have. And he could not help but feel a deep, complicated sadness — in truth, he had not been much of a father.
His hand moved lower, resting on Minglan’s soft, small abdomen. An unexpected flicker of hope rose in him.
The following morning, before full light, Gu Tingye rose to wash and dress. When he came out, he saw Minglan gamely struggling her way out from under the blankets with great difficulty. He couldn’t help but laugh: “Sleep a while longer — you’ve been worn out these past few days.”
Minglan shook her head with firm resolve: “If I’m going, I might as well observe the proprieties to the fullest. Their side has morning greetings at the third quarter of the chen hour.”
Gu Tingye glanced at the water clock and frowned: “But it’s still only the second hour of the night cycle?”
Minglan gazed at her pillow with evident longing, gritted her teeth, turned away, and climbed out of bed: “Since it’s rare for me to be up this early, there’s not much difference in waiting a little longer — I may as well use the time well. Then on ordinary days I can sleep in.”
This “use the time well” meant: keeping Gu Tingye company for breakfast, then seeing him out the door with a suitably warm and virtuous wifely expression. This performance drew from Gu Tingye a burst of eye-rolling mockery, which Minglan pretended not to notice, continuing to smile with great wifely propriety. Even if she couldn’t fool Gu Tingye, she could at least fool the household servants — establishing a favorable reputation for herself in their eyes.
Then came the inspection of the servants’ morning roll call, and oversight of the household affairs and how each steward was carrying out their duties. In the course of this surprise check, those who were diligent and faithful received commendation, and those who had been taking it easy received punishment. The results were reasonably satisfying. By the second quarter of the second hour of the night cycle, Minglan was seated in her palanquin and on her way to the Ningyuan Marquis’s household.
Cheng Garden and the Ningyuan Marquis’s household were neighboring properties on the same street, with half a grove belonging to the Imperial Household Department between them — the other half being within Cheng Garden’s grounds. Seen from above, the position between Cheng Garden’s inner courtyard and the Marquis household’s inner courtyard was rather like the two ends of a drawn bow. If Minglan walked the bowstring’s direct route, she could cut through the small path in the grove and reach the Marquis household in about ten minutes on foot. Unfortunately, for certain reasons, she was obliged to follow the curved path along the bow’s back instead — first exiting the inner courtyard, then exiting the outer courtyard to the main gate, riding in her palanquin to the Marquis household’s main gate, and then proceeding from their outer courtyard all the way through to the inner courtyard’s first gated entrance.
When Minglan stepped into Xuan Zhi Residence — a compound of fully two rows of buildings — it was precisely the first quarter of the chen hour. At the gate, Nanny Xiang came smiling to meet her, yet did not usher her into the building, instead intercepting her in the courtyard: “The Second Madam said yesterday she would come today, so the Mistress has been waiting since early this morning.”
Minglan paused almost imperceptibly, and allowed a slight flush of embarrassment to show on her face. “The fault is entirely mine — I have made the Mistress lose sleep. Nanny Xiang, I’m still new to all this and don’t know my way around. Might I trouble you to tell me what hour the Mistress usually rises on ordinary days? That way I’ll know to come at the right time in the future.”
— But really. As though without her arrival, the Mistress would simply not have needed to get up at all? Weren’t Madam Shao and Madam Zhu required to pay their morning respects every day? Were they trying to hoodwink someone who knew nothing of the world?
Nanny Xiang was momentarily caught off guard, then recovered quickly: “What is the Second Madam saying — this old servant spoke out of turn. As for the Mistress — she’s getting on in years now, and her sleep comes and goes at all hours; there’s no particular pattern…”
“That makes no difference at all,” Minglan said gently, cutting her off. “From now on, if I arrive early, I’ll simply wait in the side room until the Mistress is fully ready, and then go in to pay my respects.”
Hmph — she dared them to actually make her wait. Best case scenario, let her stand there for a solid hour or so! That was Madam Yuan’s preferred tactic, and it had given Hualan no end of grief — but what worked for a birth mother was much harder for a stepmother to pull off. Try it even once, and see how quickly the rumors would fly. What would become then of the old Mistress’s cherished reputation for virtue?
At this thought, Minglan couldn’t help but look forward to the possibility — then immediately felt unsettled. She was becoming more and more twisted in her thinking.
Nanny Xiang could no longer afford to underestimate her. She hastily invited Minglan inside.
As Minglan entered, she found Madam Shao and Madam Zhu already present, sitting by the heated platform bed in conversation with the old Mistress. Madam Shao’s complexion was waxen and her expression heavy with worry. The old Mistress was offering continuous comfort: “…Our Tingyu has always been blessed with great fortune — he’s managed like this all his life, from childhood onward. This time he will certainly come through safely.”
“Second Sister-in-law is here,” said Madam Zhu, rising when she saw Minglan enter and extending a greeting smile. “First Sister-in-law had already paid her respects to the Mistress and was about to go back and attend to Elder Brother — she stayed precisely to wait for Second Sister-in-law.”
Minglan couldn’t help but glance at Nanny Xiang standing beside her, with a gaze of pure, simple puzzlement that seemed to ask: one of you says I came too early, another says I came too late — which is it exactly?
Nanny Xiang’s expression turned uncomfortable, and she dropped her gaze.
Madam Zhu was sharp-witted enough; one look at Nanny Xiang’s face told her that her own words had probably landed wrong. Without waiting for Minglan’s reply, she quickly laughed and pulled Minglan forward. Minglan said nothing further, simply bowing respectfully to the old Mistress and Madam Shao, then waiting while the old Mistress had chairs set and tea brought. After a few pleasantries, the four of them — enough for a round of mahjong, young and old alike — settled into conversation.
“…We were just speaking about your Elder Brother’s illness,” the old Mistress said, her expression mild and kind. She gestured to a dish of fresh fruit on the low table beside the platform bed and had a maid pass some to Minglan. “They say those who are frail in constitution live the longest. I was just reassuring your Elder Sister-in-law.”
Minglan offered a few words of comfort as well, then added: “I have a few fine aged ginseng roots in my storeroom — I’ll have them sent over to Elder Sister-in-law presently. And if there’s any other medicinal ingredient you might need, please don’t hesitate to say.”
Madam Shao saw that Minglan spoke with genuine warmth, and managed a faint, strained smile at the corner of her mouth: “Thank you, Sister-in-law. Your Elder Brother’s illness… it’s only a matter of lasting one more day, and then another.”
The old Mistress sighed gently, her face a picture of compassionate sorrow. She turned to Minglan: “Your Elder Sister-in-law and I have no other recourse. I’d like to trouble you with something — when you go home, please say a word to Tingye. He’s forthright by nature and broadly connected; his Elder Brother is in such a state now — ask him to think of something, and surely he can find a skilled physician.”
At these words, Madam Shao’s listless eyes immediately brightened. She looked at Minglan with a face full of silent appeal.
Minglan’s heart gave a small jolt. From the moment she had stepped into this room, she had kept herself in a state of full alertness. She thought for a moment, then said in measured tones: “Of course. But it would perhaps be best, Sister-in-law, if you first told me which physicians Elder Brother has already consulted — so that Second Master doesn’t seek out someone we’ve already tried, which would only cause delay.”
Madam Shao saw the sense in this and immediately began listing them one by one. But as she spoke, her own spirits sank. From the several great families of physicians renowned throughout the capital, to famous medical halls across the provinces of Zhili, Shanxi, Shandong, Henan, and Hebei; from the Chief Imperial Physician of the Imperial Medical Bureau, to itinerant village healers found through posted rewards — over these twenty years, virtually every physician worth consulting had been consulted.
When she finished, she saw the difficulty on Minglan’s face opposite her, and recognized herself that she was asking more than could be given.
“We will certainly look into it. But…” Minglan weighed her words and said: “As they say, like finds like. The people Second Master knows in the outside world are mostly brothers-in-arms from military service. If you truly asked him to seek out physicians, the ones he’d find would likely specialize in injuries from weapons and blows. The Mistress has eaten more salt than we have eaten rice — and Sister-in-law’s own family has long been established in the capital, with uncles and aunts as well. Rather than having one person searching in the dark, wouldn’t it be better for all of us to put our heads together and think of whatever good physicians we know, and then have Second Master go and bring them in? A whole family working together will always find more than any one person alone.” Gu Tingye might not know of any particularly brilliant physicians, but once he learned of one, he could certainly bring a degree of pressure to bear.
Madam Shao heard the meaning in this and more or less accepted it. She nodded in quiet resignation: “That’s all we can do.”
The old Mistress’s eyes flickered. She glanced at Minglan, then sighed again: “They have altogether several brothers. I can only hope that Tingye will find the time, and come more often to visit his Elder Brother. Perhaps that alone might help somewhat.”
Minglan smiled with gentle modesty: “I’ll mention it to Second Master when I return.”
Seeing her respond so readily, the others had little more to say. Madam Zhu couldn’t help but look carefully at this new sister-in-law of hers. Minglan sat quietly, listening far more than she spoke; when she did contribute, it was usually a word or two to lighten the mood. Her words were few — only what needed to be said — and each sentence left room for ambiguity, never painting herself into a corner. To all appearances she had agreed to everything, and yet in substance she had committed to nothing.
Madam Zhu smiled quietly to herself, beginning to suspect that her mother-in-law’s intentions might well come to nothing.
At that moment, from outside, a maid called out loudly to announce: Rong Jie’er had arrived. Everyone turned to look. In came Gong Hongxiao and Autumn Niang, one on either side, and ahead of them, in a thin jacket of pale yellow embroidered with chrysanthemums, was Rong Jie’er. She still looked slight and frail, her head bowed, not speaking.
“Will you not greet your mother?” Madam Zhu said with a mild smile.
Rong Jie’er made a bow — crooked and unsteady — then said in a very small voice: “My respects to the Mistress.”
Seeing her so obstinate, Autumn Niang gave an almost imperceptible sigh beside her and gently performed her own courtesy bow. Gong Hongxiao stepped forward briskly and bowed with willing eagerness, saying in a bright voice: “My respects to the Mistress.”
Minglan gave them all a mild, acknowledging nod: “I hear that most of the larger trunks and boxes have been packed. Please see to tidying up the rest — we will be returning to Cheng Garden today.”
Autumn Niang’s joy was immediate and unconcealed; her eyes were full of happiness. Gong Hongxiao raised her eyes to look at Minglan, bit her lip, and seemed to want to say something but hesitate. Minglan, finding it a bother, intended to pretend she hadn’t noticed — but the old Mistress spoke in a kindly manner: “The Second Madam is a gracious person — if you have something to say, just say it.”
Gong Hongxiao curtsied repeatedly, her voice humble and deferential: “This concubine would like — would like to bring two maids along with her. Jin Xi and Wu Er… they came as part of my original dowry. I… I cannot bear to part with them…” Her voice grew softer and softer.
Minglan noticed sharply that Rong Jie’er tilted her head very slightly, darted a swift glance at Gong Hongxiao — and then immediately bowed her head again in silence.
The old Mistress listened, then smiled and looked at Minglan, her gaze inquiring. Minglan smiled: “So long as the Mistress and Elder Sister-in-law give their consent, I have no objection.”
The old Mistress nodded with satisfaction, and said to Minglan in a gentle voice, gesturing at the two of them: “These two have not had it easy. Tingye was away all those years with no word at all — everyone was kept in the dark, uncertain of everything. Yet these two kept faith and insisted on waiting. Ah… it takes a heart of flesh to recognize a heart of flesh. For the sake of that devotion, if they do anything amiss in the future, please be patient with them.”
The tone was full of compassionate goodwill. At those words, Hongxiao and Autumn Niang were moved; both their eyes grew red as they looked at the old Mistress with gratitude.
Gu Tingye had been away for over a year. The difference in how these two had been treated during the earlier period and the later period amounted to at least two stars’ worth of rating. Yet here the old Mistress managed to deliver this little speech with complete fluency and apparent naturalness.
Minglan inwardly offered sincere admiration, and resolved to learn from this model. She calibrated the exact degree of warmth in the old Mistress’s voice, added to it a touch of gentle, modest shyness, her eyes bright and her smile graceful, and said: “What are you saying — even without your words, could I possibly treat them badly?”
The old Mistress clasped Minglan’s hand, her eyes full of warm and fond affection: “You child!”
Madam Zhu pressed her lips together in a smile. Madam Shao looked on with relief. Hongxiao and Autumn Niang expressed their grateful thanks. Hongxiao even pressed her handkerchief to the corner of her eye for added effect. The maids on either side chimed in with soft laughter, as though everyone present truly believed this was real. It was, in every sense, theater become life, and life become theater. Minglan felt that today had been, in all respects, a remarkably harmonious day.