Trudging along unhurriedly, they traveled for nearly half a day, and not long after passing through the city gates, they arrived at Little Rain Manor.
The manor sat adjacent to the capital’s outskirts, with a river in front and a mountain behind — a prime location. It had been purchased as a dowry for the one and only legitimate daughter of the Yongyi Marquis House during its prosperous years. Later, when Sheng Lao needed money for Sheng Hong’s official career, more than half of the estate had been mortgaged away.
As the Sheng family’s circumstances gradually improved, the land there proved very difficult to redeem. Thus Sheng Hong had purchased another manor elsewhere for the old madam — yet she kept it in her heart, always listening for word of any family in urgent need of funds. Over several years, she had quietly bought back small parcels here and there, totaling five to six hundred acres in all.
Old Cui had been hand-selected from a thousand candidates to come as part of the dowry. Honest and hardworking went without saying — his farming skills were exceptional as well. Nanny Cui was his childhood sweetheart, lost to him in youth. When the two were reunited years later and the old madam learned of it, she went to great lengths and expense to have Nanny Cui bought out from another household. The couple, their wishes finally granted, married and had children together, and were profoundly grateful to the old madam, their loyalty beyond question.
With the couple’s wholehearted devotion, Little Rain Manor always appeared more prosperous and well-tended than other estates.
Minglan, wearing a veiled hat and seated in a palanquin, made a slow circuit of the manor and its tenant farmers. Before her stretched endless rows of ridged fields; amidst them roamed yellow oxen and white dogs, and vegetables and grain crops hung heavy with ripening yield. Most of the farming households recognized her, and when they saw Minglan’s palanquin approaching, they set down their hoes and farm work, smiling as they bowed or kowtowed — a scene of pastoral abundance in a prosperous age.
Minglan was quite satisfied.
“How are the crops this year?” Back at the manor house, Minglan sat at the head of the main hall and asked careful questions. Old Cui smiled, his eyes crinkling, as he bowed respectfully. “All good, all good. This year the winds and rains have been favorable — the harvest should come in a bit more than last year’s. The past few years were quite dire with drought, and there was the military unrest in the Jianghuai region besides. Grain prices in the capital shot up terribly, yet the old madam and the Sixth — oh, and the Madam — never once urged us to collect more rent. They even gave everyone relief during hard times and offered extra reassurance. They all say, where else out there could you find a landlord as generous and kind as ours!”
Minglan flipped through the land registers on the table and looked up with a smile. “Old Cui, the estate manager, your tongue is certainly nimble! So eloquent and persuasive — perhaps later you could show the old madam. I’m sure she’d find it quite entertaining.”
Old Cui’s rough, dark face immediately flushed red. Knowing full well Minglan’s capabilities, he dropped all pretense and said what was truly on his mind. Minglan was greatly startled and exclaimed softly, “You want to buy land?”
Old Cui nodded vigorously, his face lit with excitement. “I don’t know what’s gotten into things lately, but there are several large parcels along the Baitong River that are up for sale. I’ve looked into them carefully — good land, good quality. We’ve had some savings in the manor these past years, so why not expand a bit?”
Minglan thought for a moment and said simply, “Same as before — write out the details: how much land, who the owners are, the prices, and all related matters. Have someone deliver it to Black Mountain Manor on the other side of the mountain for me. Once I’ve looked it over and found it suitable, I’ll let you know.”
Old Cui immediately answered with a respectful bow.
Minglan looked at his expression of barely contained delight and laughed inwardly. The greatest passion of ancient people was, it seemed, buying land.
“…Madam does not know — the old madam’s manor was originally twenty hectares! And that entire mountain forest behind was also ours!” Old Cui’s aged eyes grew moist as he lamented. “If we could restore this place to what it once was, it would not have been in vain — all that the old madam has done for us.”
Minglan fell silent for a moment, then said quietly, “I know your intentions are good, but everything must be done by proper means. If good land comes up and we can buy it, then buy it — but never use force, lest it bring trouble.”
Old Cui bowed again and again with a smile, and beat his chest in promise. “Even if someone lent this old fellow two extra sets of courage, I wouldn’t dare! The old madam’s rules have always been clear — every time, the contracts have been written out plainly and clearly. Madam may rest easy; there will be no mistakes!”
At roughly the second quarter past three in the afternoon, Minglan’s party left Little Rain Manor and headed directly for Black Mountain Manor, taking a few extra people along for the road. Though the distance was not great, the road was nothing like the smooth paths within the city — all jolts and bumps — and darkness had nearly fallen by the time they arrived.
Xiaotao leaned against the carriage railing and peered ahead. In the distance, the heavy black silhouette of the manor’s main gate had just come into view, with scattered torchlight flickering before it. As they drew closer, she could make out Danju, Quan Zhu’s wife, and a short, dark-complexioned man standing at the front, with a large crowd behind them.
When the carriage drew up to the gate, the short, dark-complexioned man immediately stepped forward and knelt. He announced in a loud voice: “This humble servant Ba Laofu pays his respects to Madam. Madam has had a long journey today. All the rooms inside have been prepared — we have been waiting only for Madam.”
Xiaotao and Luzhi jumped down from the carriage and stood with folded hands, exchanging a glance with Danju. Danju gave a slight nod.
From within the carriage came a clear and refined voice: “Please rise, Steward Ba — you’ve worked hard. Standing out here in the dark waiting for us — I have come at an inconvenient hour.”
“Not at all!” In the light of the torches, Ba Laofu’s face was all fawning smiles. “Madam is a noble personage — the fact that you would take time to come see the manor is our good fortune. We could only wish for it and never dare hope!”
Minglan did not say much, only asked, “Has the Master arrived?”
Ba Laofu rose and replied, “The Master sent word this afternoon that he would arrive a little later.”
“Very well. Leave a few people at the gate to wait for the Master. We’ll go in first.” Minglan felt somewhat relieved.
Ba Laofu acknowledged this in a loud voice, immediately directing people to open the main gates wide. The carriage slowly entered the manor, followed by the train of maids and servant women.
The main rooms of the manor were already ablaze with lamplight. Tables, chairs, and shelves had all been polished spotless, and furnishings were arranged with orderly elegance. Minglan gave a slight nod and turned to enter the inner room. She found it had already been put in complete order. Her everyday ram’s-horn palace lantern stood on the small bedside table. On the pear-wood round table was set a tea service of celadon-glazed mallow-petal warmers, the spout of the teapot still breathing a delicate fragrance. Minglan held her breath and inhaled: it was the golden osmanthus and jasmine tea she was accustomed to drinking.
Minglan sat down on the edge of the kang, weary but smiling. “Our Danju has grown ever more capable! To have put everything in such perfect order in just half a day — well, she’s ready to be married off!”
Danju was not in the least embarrassed. She walked over stone-faced to untie Minglan’s sash. “Please spare yourself, my lady. This whole day has worn you out — even your voice has changed; did you think I couldn’t tell? And look at all that dust on your face, and your hair-bun all askew — thank goodness you didn’t step out of the carriage for anyone to see. Go and wash up first. If there’s anything to be said, have Quan Zhu’s wife pass the word.”
Qinsang came in from the inner room, smiling gently: “The hot water is all ready. Madam, please go wash. It’s fortunate I brought two full boxes of bathing salts — otherwise I’m not sure there would have been enough.”
Minglan was utterly exhausted, and she soaked herself thoroughly in the large round wooden tub. Danju kept adding hot water, until her muscles and bones had gone completely soft and pliant. Then she emerged and sprawled out on the bed, murmuring, “I really have grown delicate — I can’t even bear this little hardship.”
In the last year of her previous life, in the mountain village without running water, Yao Yiyi had drawn her own water from the well. The coarse rope had worn deep gashes into the hands she had always used only for holding a pen; then the gashes healed and became calluses. She had walked five or six hours a day; at night, when she peeled off her shoes, her feet were covered in bloody blisters she soaked in cold water until the pain chilled her to the bone. Where her heels had once ached in high heels, now the backs of her feet ached in sneakers. Her calves trembled like bowstrings; lying in bed, her legs felt like they no longer belonged to her.
A city girl who had collapsed into sleep the moment her head touched the pillow — yet her heart had been utterly at peace. She felt she had helped people, and she’d fallen asleep dreaming that at the next class reunion, she would finally show off in front of that group of idiots who couldn’t even tell green onions from chives.
She, Yao Yiyi, had even learned to weave a fence!
Yet now, though surrounded by a retinue of attendants and waited upon by a crowd of servants, she could no longer recapture that satisfaction of being worn out and content. Even when tired, her heart was full of worry and unease — the court these days was far from stable.
In the ancient world, political careers were soaked in blood. She had seen officials bound in chains and shackles being escorted to the capital. She had seen official households stripped of everything until their families were ruined. Girls she had once sipped tea and laughed with in the inner chambers had, in the blink of an eye, been condemned to the Entertainment Bureau — made official courtesans — because of their fathers’ or brothers’ crimes.
Whenever she thought of these things, Minglan felt boundless gratitude toward Old Father Sheng. He had never chased after glory or overreached himself. He had never schemed for personal gain, nor squandered the family fortune. As an official he was reasonably upright; as a person he was sufficiently tactful. Whatever his other faults and failings, he had always fulfilled an ancient man’s duties — he had provided his wife, children, and elders with a safe and comfortable life.
Speaking of the Sheng family — a few days earlier, when Minglan had sent an advance gift for the Dragon Boat Festival back to her family home, Xiaotao had brought back some news: Sheng Hong and Wang Shi were at odds again over the matter of arranging Changfeng’s marriage.
Though Changfeng was of concubine birth, he had the advantage of a fine appearance — handsome and refined in bearing, easy in conversation. (He resembled Sheng Hong greatly in his younger years, the man who had once captivated Wang Madam’s parents at first glance.) He was well-liked by many. Young as he was, he was already a Juren, with a capable father and elder brother, and his sisters had mostly made good marriages. Everyone assumed it was only a matter of time before he passed the imperial examinations. Thus, when Sheng Hong let word out that he was looking for a match, no small number of families responded.
Yet Sheng Hong, clear-eyed enough about his own son’s character, proposed that while the woman’s family background need only be passable, the primary consideration must be the woman herself — a daughter-in-law who was proper, refined, capable, and virtuous, and preferably with a bit of a fierce temper to boot.
“With Feng Ge’er’s temperament, he needs someone to keep a firm grip on him!” Sheng Hong put it as delicately as he could. “She must be able to hold her own on his behalf” — meaning she could withstand a sharp-tongued mother-in-law — “and she must be able to rein him in when he runs wild” — meaning she would not let him fritter his time away on romantic indulgences.
Wang Shi was dumbfounded — the requirements were rather specific. She said with undisguised sarcasm, “Why doesn’t Master just find Feng Ge’er a mother?”
“I wasn’t counting on you for that anyway,” Sheng Hong replied ill-temperedly. Even if he could trust Wang Shi’s intentions, he could not trust her judgment.
— Minglan buried her face in the bedding and laughed to herself. She could picture the scene almost perfectly.
But Sheng Hong could hardly go out himself to look over other families’ daughters, so he had no choice but to ask the old madam to take charge. Unfortunately the old madam had recently been enjoying a pleasant life — nursing and playing with her great-grandchildren — and had no wish to wade back into troubled waters. She was currently wearing Sheng Hong down gradually.
The truth was that if Lin Yiniang had not destroyed herself through her own scheming, Sheng Hong had genuinely been deeply fond of both Molan and Changfeng. In life, one truly must not let one’s desires exceed all measure…
When Danju came in carrying the evening meal, she found Minglan had fallen deeply asleep, a ledger book still in her arms. She tucked the coverlet gently around her and quietly withdrew.
By the end of the seventh hour of the night, Gu Tingye arrived at a fast gallop with a retinue of personal guards and attendants. A row of more than ten armored men who had just come down from the inspection grounds — all mounted on fine horses, tall and imposing, the killing spirit of the military drill still written on their faces — made even Ba Laofu look more subdued than usual. His welcoming smile went rigid, and he bowed and scraped to usher Gu Tingye inside toward the main rooms.
The manor servants were all busy leading the guards’ horses to the stalls; the remaining mounted escorts went off to rest in the side rooms that had been prepared. As they moved through the grounds, Gongsun Meng and the two Tuo brothers came striding forward to meet them.
“Big Brother Xie!” Gongsun Meng called out brightly, throwing an arm around the shoulder of a mounted young man in his mid-twenties in riding attire and greeting him warmly. “You’ve finally arrived!” Xie Ang turned with a grin, clasped Gongsun Meng’s hand, and then, catching sight of the two men behind him, called out loudly, “Elder Brother Tuo! Second Brother Tuo!”
Tuo Long was a sturdy man with the build of someone ten-odd years past youth, a knife scar angling diagonally from his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. When he smiled, the effect was somewhat fearsome. He laughed: “Don’t celebrate yet! Little Meng isn’t thinking of you — he’s thinking about the glory on the inspection grounds today.”
Hearing this, Meng did indeed look deflated. “My uncle absolutely would not let me go. I thought escorting Madam was just as important — but then Madam had me escort the baggage with a bunch of serving girls!”
“You little ingrate!” Tuo Hu laughed with a roguish air. “Your uncle was thinking of you. Study hard and practice your martial arts — go take the military examinations properly someday! The two of us brothers can’t read enough characters to fill a basket, so there’s no hope for us!”
Gongsun Meng, though not small in stature, was only fourteen years old. With the restlessness of youth, he quickly let it go and clung to Xie Ang, asking question after question.
“By the way, Big Brother Xie — it’s so late already, why did you all insist on riding back tonight?”
Xie Ang walked and laughed at the same time. “The Commander was uneasy about things here — we don’t know the ins and outs of this manor.”
“Come now, don’t hedge. With so many brothers here as guards, what is there to be uneasy about?” Tuo Hu lowered his voice and grinned. “My guess is the Master couldn’t bear to be away from Madam!”
“Mind your tongue when it comes to the Master’s business.” Tuo Long immediately shot his brother a glare and scolded, “Isn’t the reason perfectly clear? Madam is young, so the Master worries her authority might not carry enough weight — he came to back her up, that’s all.”
“What do you mean, not enough authority?!” Gongsun Meng protested. “When Madam dresses me down about my studies, she’s even fiercer than my uncle, and I can’t get a single word in edgewise.”
He recalled a certain day when Minglan had smiled pleasantly and said: “Pang Juan and Sun Bin both studied under the Ghost Valley Master. Pang Juan didn’t apply himself to his studies — he ran off early to take a military post. Sun Bin stayed, worked hard every day, and when he finally emerged, it took him only two moves to destroy Pang Juan. Now, Meng — would you rather be Pang Juan or Sun Bin?”
Meng had blinked and couldn’t help but ask: “So… Pang Juan lost to Sun Bin because he didn’t study hard enough?”
His uncle had stood to one side, stroking his beard with a smile, murmuring, “That’s right, that’s right.”
And just yesterday, he had grumbled about wanting to escort Gu Tingye or Minglan rather than do the thankless job of guarding the luggage. Minglan had again smiled pleasantly and reasoned with him: “Meng, would you say goods are more important, or people?”
“People, naturally.”
“And would you say your martial skills are better, or the Tuo brothers’?”
“The two elder Tuo brothers, of course.”
Minglan had said nothing more after that. She had simply looked at him with the expression one reserves for a five-year-old child, and had shaken her head with great sympathy.
His uncle had continued stroking his beard with a smile, murmuring, “That’s right, that’s right.”
Whenever this sort of thing happened, Gongsun Meng suddenly felt ten years younger, inexplicably dispirited; he would retreat to a corner to brood, and required half a day of mourning before he could recover.
“Things are better with Madam around!” Tuo Hu said with feeling. “I remember how chaotic the household used to be. We’d follow the Master all over the place, then come back to our own rooms in the outer courtyard — food, clothing, no one to look after any of it. The Master would just hand out silver, so we brothers ended up eating and sleeping in the pleasure quarters for weeks at a time…”
“Go to hell!” Tuo Long interrupted him with displeasure. “Are you seriously blaming the Master for not having taken a wife yet as the reason you went to the pleasure quarters? You’ve got less and less propriety as you go — when we get back, I’m finding a matchmaker to get you betrothed. We need a fierce wife to take you in hand!”
Tuo Hu was rather in awe of his elder brother and dared not talk back, only muttering under his breath: “But we came from the same mother…”
“What is this?!”
Minglan was helping Gu Tingye off with his outer robe when she spotted a shocking bloodstain on the shoulder and upper arm of the brocade garment. She was immediately startled.
Gu Tingye looked down, then recalled, and said lightly: “Today was only the first day — nothing important. Everyone got a little carried away, so we had a few rounds of spear practice… Don’t worry, the spearheads had all been removed.” Seeing the alarm on Minglan’s face, he added the second half.
“You!” Minglan scolded with exasperation. She carefully helped him out of the outer robe. “Who said a spear without a head can’t kill someone?!” Do you not know how a certain lettered man met his end?
“Hm…?”
The outer robe came off, but the snow-white silk inner garment beneath showed no bloodstains at all. Minglan pulled back his collar and slid the garment off one shoulder, then the other, until he was bare to the waist. The light amber skin was taut over well-developed muscle — the shoulder and upper arm, though, showed no injury at all. Only a faint bruise, bluish-purple, marked his shoulder.
She was puzzled.
“Indeed.” Gu Tingye gave a quiet sigh. “In future I really ought to wrap the shaft in cloth first. I got a little carried away and couldn’t check my strength in time — I nearly drove clean through that young brother’s arm.”
Minglan stood dumbfounded for a moment, then laughed inwardly at herself. So the blood had been someone else’s. She said “Oh,” took the robe she had just removed and handed it to Xiaotao, then asked: “Was his injury serious?”
“In the end I angled my force away in time. Fortunately it was only a flesh wound. I personally hired a good physician from outside to see to him.”
“That’s a relief.” Minglan nodded and stepped forward to loosen his hair crown with a smile. “If he could push you to fight at full strength, that young brother must be quite skilled.”
“Mm. Young, promising, and with an open and spirited temperament — a talent worth cultivating.”
Gu Tingye had a tall, imposing frame; even seated on the edge of the bed he was only half a head shorter than Minglan standing beside him. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pressed his cheek against the soft warmth of her chest, quietly listening to the sound of her heartbeat.
Minglan smiled. In truth he was only twenty-six this year, yet his manner of speaking was full of the air of an old man. She was just about to tease him when she noticed a flash of silver in his thick, dark hair. Looking more closely, she saw that a few strands of white had appeared at his temple — invisible when his hair was combed up, but plainly seen now.
Something in Minglan softened unexpectedly. She lowered her head and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.
Gu Tingye drew her down to sit on his knee, her face resting against his chest, and said slowly: “As for buying land — there’s no need to be overly cautious about it. There is no shortage of nobles and powerful families in the capital who enrich themselves. If we didn’t even dare buy a few acres of farmland, all these years I’ve endured would count for nothing. When we return, ask Master Gongsun to send someone to find Deputy Prefect Lv of the Shuntian Prefecture — have him act as the official intermediary. Keep the contracts and money clean and above board, with all the formalities complete, and there’s nothing to fear.”
“Mm.” Minglan responded gently. “Have a little more supper, won’t you? Let me set the table.”
She rose to go, but a large hand lightly caught her by the ear and pulled her back down to his knee.
“I have a question for you.” Gu Tingye’s lips curved with a trace of amusement. “Just now — did you think it was I who had been injured?”
Minglan gave a couple of awkward laughs and nodded, a little embarrassed.
“The bloodstain on the outer robe was certainly real,” Gu Tingye said, one eyebrow raised, a barely perceptible gleam of amusement in his eyes. “But the fabric itself was completely intact — not a single hole. Did you not notice?”
Minglan froze. A spear shaft with no head would leave a very different kind of tear in the fabric — and she had changed his outer robe with her own hands. Throughout the entire process she had noticed nothing at all; not until she saw that the skin was unharmed did she breathe again.
“Why… did you not notice?” The man’s low, unhurried voice seemed to be coaxing a particular answer out of her. He knew her well — she was bold, and she was careful. She was not the sort to panic.
“Yes, why didn’t I?” Minglan blinked her large eyes with genuine bewilderment. “I don’t know either.”
Gu Tingye said nothing more, only looked at her steadily. Minglan worked hard to maintain an innocent expression — but under the blazing intensity of his gaze, a crimson flush rose inevitably to both her cheeks, and she could no longer hold her composure.
The man saw that her cheeks had deepened to the color of a red apple. Laughter welled up from deep in his chest, and he pulled the girl’s slight figure close, tilting backward, and the two of them tumbled together onto the bed.
The girl covered her burning face with her hands in chagrin, the man pressing heavily down upon her. When she looked up, she met a pair of dark, fathomless eyes — he was struggling not to laugh, and stared at her with mock severity.
“Fraud.”
Those were his words.
His thick hair spread loose around him, he laughed openly — joyful as a child who has seen through a conjuring trick.