“…If this is truly so, Gu’s second son has truly grown.” The old man said slowly.

“This son inquired carefully — it is indeed so.” Standing beside the long chair was a slightly rotund middle-aged man, who replied in a low voice. “Commander Gu burned an entire chest of debt notes and rent receipts — the cheering from the manor could be heard several li away. The most remarkable thing of all: the Commander actually gave those wretched individuals a generous severance payment.”

The square weapons room was ten zhang wide. Along the tall far wall stood a high elmwood rack hung with all manner of arms — swords and spears, halberds and axes, hooks and pitchforks. Bright daylight streamed through the high windows, catching the glinting edges of the arsenal in sharp, brilliant light.

Bo Tianzhu was sixty-seven years old this year, yet his frame remained imposing, his sinews and bones still strong. Habits formed in youth meant that a day without handling weapons left him restless. At that moment he sat by the window on a long chair, repeatedly wiping a two-foot-long forged steel horse-beheading longsword with clean oil and a felt cloth. Beside him stood the slightly rotund middle-aged man.

“He held himself in completely during the inspection — his composure is truly something.” Bo Tianzhu set down the cloth and stroked his beard with a sigh. “No wonder he could make something of himself from nothing, rising from the common folk! With this, placing your second son under his command is no mistake at all. At my age I have no great ambitions — I only wish my children and grandchildren peace. If I can secure them an inheritable title before I close my eyes, I will die without regret.”

“Father, please do not speak this way!” Bo Jun dropped to his knees immediately, tears welling in his eyes. “It is all this son’s uselessness — unable to achieve distinction in either scholarship or martial arts — that leaves Father, at such an advanced age, still worrying over his children and grandchildren! Now that the world is at peace, Father ought to stay home and rest and enjoy life. Father says such things — it is as good as condemning this son. I, I…” He wept and hung his head miserably.

“Enough, enough — get up!” Watching his grown son cry and wail, Bo Tianzhu could not help but glare. “You couldn’t pass the examinations, yet you’ve absorbed a bellyful of maudlin principles. Who in this world does not die? Your old father is also human — am I also exempt from death? What is wrong with gaining some advantage for one’s own flesh and blood before dying? Big men don’t go about dripping gold beans — close your mouth! Get up! Wipe your face!”

Bo Jun barely collected his tears, steadied his breathing in a few hitches, and lowered his voice: “…Father has fought through fifty-some years of swords and lances. Second Brother died on the frontier before he even found a wife. Measured by our family’s contributions, we should have been granted an inheritable title long ago…”

Bo Tianzhu thought of his two sons who had died young, and felt a pang in his heart. He paid no further attention to his eldest, and took up the cloth to wipe the sword again, murmuring to himself: “The late Emperor was warm-hearted and benevolent — serving under him brought no great rewards, but it was safe. Even mistakes could be quietly smoothed over. But the current Emperor is different…”

Bo Jun stared at his father blankly and ventured in a small voice: “So Father made an early and graceful withdrawal, surrendering the military command to His Majesty.”

“Graceful withdrawal! What graceful withdrawal! True withdrawal means giving up any chance at an inheritable title! When Elder Grand Secretary Shen asked to retire, it was because his sons, daughters, and sons-in-law are all flourishing. What do I have? Only you, a blundering, ox-headed blockhead of a son!”

Bo Tianzhu huffed and puffed with indignation, but seeing that his dull-witted, honest son couldn’t even manage a flattering excuse and simply stood there dumbly taking the scolding, the old man looked at him and heaved a helpless sigh. “You must remember: sometimes withdrawal is not true withdrawal. It can also be a feint — one step back to advance two. The way Gu’s second son handled this matter is a good example of exactly that.”

Bo Jun was an honest man — what he did not understand, he admitted he did not understand. He could not pretend. The old man saw the confusion on his son’s face, sighed at length, and began to explain with patience: “Looking at it on the surface, Gu’s young master not only took a heavy loss but was also made to look helpless and meek. You thought so too, I imagine?”

“Indeed.” Bo Jun nodded and moved to his old father’s side, pulling up a small stool to sit, gently kneading the old man’s chronically cold legs. “The late Emperor in his benevolence had long since issued a clear order for all imperial manors: ‘no increase in rent.’ Yet those estate managers dared commit such outrages. From a manor with an annual income of five thousand taels — in scarcely a decade — they drove the tenant farmers to ruin, and still managed to accumulate forty thousand taels in rent arrears and loans. Where is the sense in any of this? It flies in the face of both heaven’s principle and the law of the land!”

“Nonsense!” Bo Tianzhu inwardly noted that his son was dull-witted but at least not muddled. He said directly: “If you can see this, can Gu’s young mistress not? She’s a sharp one!”

The old man felt his throat dry. He reached over and lifted a purple clay teapot from the small low table beside him — its surface glowing with a faint patina — and took a long pull from the spout. Then he continued: “This affair cannot withstand scrutiny — it couldn’t be explained away to anyone. Gu’s young mistress could certainly have brought it all out in the open: had the garrison office or the local magistrate come to conduct an investigation, or had the estate administration office summoned for questioning. But if she had done that, the problem would have been pushed squarely into His Majesty’s hands. The imperial household has so many manors — how many of them, having exploited the late Emperor’s indulgence, have hands reaching inside? If the other manors were to start kicking up a fuss as well, what was His Majesty supposed to do? Conduct a thorough investigation and punish them all? Pull one thread and the whole weave unravels — how many people would be implicated? The timing is still too early for that!”

Bo Jun took the teapot gently from his old father’s hands and set it to one side, listening as the old man continued: “His Majesty cannot openly fight this case — he can only gradually, batch by batch, replace the old personnel. One dynasty, one set of ministers; from the outer court to the inner palace, and on out to everywhere else — His Majesty has his own people to install, and those from before need to be moved out of the way.”

“Gu’s young mistress had those shortsighted people render their accounts on the spot, then in one move produced forty thousand taels of silver to clear everything. The people from the Shuntian Prefecture, the local garrison office, and the inner palace — all watched with their own eyes.” Bo Tianzhu stroked the sword in his hand; its blade gleamed with a cold blue light. On his aged, wrinkled face there appeared a peculiar smile. “For one thing, once this spreads, anyone who does the arithmetic will know just how deep the corruption ran in that manor. An estate manager on his own couldn’t have the gall — there were people behind him. For another, since the matter has been resolved here and now, those people behind the scenes haven’t been too badly offended either. And for a third — it wins them the reputation of being compassionate and generous. Truly — one arrow, three birds.”

“So it was that a few days after the inspection, His Majesty — after the customary public commendations — also privately rewarded Commander Gu with fifty thousand taels. It appears His Majesty understood everything perfectly and chose to compensate the Gu household accordingly.” Only now did Bo Jun begin to understand.

Bo Tianzhu broke into open, resounding laughter; his stern, heavy brows relaxed: “Gu’s young mistress quietly unearthed the dark accounts of those imperial manor managers and laid them bare — His Majesty must be feeling enormously satisfied right now! It will be easier for His Majesty to reshuffle the personnel going forward.”

Bo Jun now understood everything. He felt privately ashamed of his own dullness. After a while, he could not help but add: “Only those vicious estate managers got off so easily — just let go like that! Alas… though at least the tenant farmers have finally come through to the other side. I’ve heard that Commander Gu’s wife is a woman of great compassion. She said that the elderly people of the manor had labored their entire lives and could not be left with nothing in old age — and so she gave orders that henceforth, every tenant farmer on the estate whose direct elderly relatives were over sixty would receive a yearly allowance of silver, grain, and clothing.”

“Second son’s young wife has conduct beyond reproach — the mistress of this household has praised her a number of times. It’s only said that she’s rather young, and by nature a little languid — she doesn’t much care for going out.” Bo Tianzhu thought of what his wife had said, gave a slight nod, and his gaze shifted with a flicker of private thought. He murmured: “Got off so easily, did they? I rather think not.”

The Western Hills were not a single mountain but a range of peaks stretching for thousands of li. Green in spring, moon and lotus in summer nights, crimson maple in autumn, sunny snow in winter — such beautiful scenery was not open to everyone for excursions. The finest hilltop on the eastern side of the Western Hills was occupied by a summer palace, and scattered among the other slopes and ridges were a small number of manors — only those of notable imperial relatives or high-ranking officials could establish a residence there.

After their discussion that day, Gu Tingye had asked Minglan to go ahead to the hot spring mountain manor.

On that first morning, Minglan had furtively lifted the carriage curtain to steal a few glances — and what met her eyes was a scene of dazzling, luminous beauty that instantly captivated her. When she entered the manor, she found the scenery all around exquisite, the surrounding hills rolling gently in every direction, the whole place feeling as if one had suddenly arrived in a paradise apart from the world. The rooms inside were also tastefully and elegantly furnished. Minglan was thoroughly delighted and gave the estate manager a good deal of praise.

This manager had originally been an old orderly in Gu Tingye’s military headquarters — he had followed the army for many years and was always thorough and reliable in carrying out his duties. But he had sustained an injury that left him permanently disabled during a chaotic battle. With no steady property and a house full of sick and frail dependents, his livelihood had suddenly come undone. So he had of his own accord placed himself in Gu Tingye’s service.

From the moment she arrived at the hot spring mountain manor, Minglan experienced for the first time in her life a complete and unrestrained departure from her usual daily habits. Sometimes she rode a cool bamboo palanquin to leisurely tour the scenic grounds of the manor; other times, veiled hat in place, she went into the back of the manor to pick fresh tangerines. Her daily meals featured freshly harvested vegetables and produce, along with game and mountain fare just brought in — every variety of forest mushroom imaginable, their names beyond her ability to recall in full, turned into dishes in ever-changing combinations. Most importantly, the manor was fed by four springs that bubbled ceaselessly year-round with warm water. She would have a wooden serving tray set to float on the steaming surface and load it with fruit chilled in cold well water and sweet honey wine. Every day she soaked for half an hour, and came out feeling ease through her entire body.

No household affairs to manage. No need to put on a composed and dignified front. No noble ladies or female relatives dropping by for visits at odd hours. After a few days of this, Minglan felt she was living between heaven and earth. Every bone in her body had gone loose and soft. She thought to herself that living this way indefinitely would not be at all bad.

Unfortunately, this blissful existence lasted only four days — then Gu Tingye arrived.

The man had just finished putting external and internal matters in order and was fatigued. The inspection ground review was no small affair, and in an era without red-flagged official carriages, added to the fact that the Emperor had made up his mind to conduct a thorough inspection of the entire army, even reviewing for just one day required riding many li on horseback. Not to mention that Gu Tingye, as deputy director of the inspection, had to cover some hundred li by horse nearly every day of the review. On top of it all, he had to wear down his patience against a group of seasoned old military hands. Military circles had no fewer intrigues than the official court — open blades and concealed arrows, schemes at every turn. It was mentally exhausting.

Minglan saw the weariness on the man’s face and looked down at her own hands. The so-called good husband is not made in words: working himself to exhaustion like this every day, yet he still insisted on returning to the manor every night… Moved and sympathetic, she gathered her spirit to attend to him properly.

Seeing how stiff and tired the man’s muscles were, Minglan offered of her own accord to give him a massage.

In her previous life, Yao Yiyi had a close friend who was a devoted enthusiast of spa and massage treatments — she went to professional wellness studios regularly and also studied the techniques herself. By osmosis, Minglan had acquired a fair command of the art. In her view, the kind of massage practiced in ancient inner chambers — small fists tapping or beauty-style light drumming — was nothing more than scratching through leather and completely failed to relieve genuine fatigue. The true essence of massage lay in the fingers and palms, accomplished through pressing, pushing, kneading, rotating, rubbing, and pinching — with tapping and drumming used only as supplementary motions.

After she had also learned something of human acupoints from the old matriarch, Minglan felt even more confident. The old madam had praised her little granddaughter’s skill lavishly — yet at Gu Tingye’s side, there was an unexpected development.

It goes without saying that men are thicker-skinned and tougher-fleshed than women. Years of martial training had built him — from shoulders and arms to abdomen and long legs — into lean, fit muscle the color of light amber, his entire body proportioned without a trace of excess. Dense, hard, and solid. Minglan worked up a head of sweat and, giving up all thought of technique, put every ounce of strength she possessed into pounding and striking — and Gu Tingye still lay there with an unchanged expression, reporting that he “didn’t feel much.”

Minglan had exhausted all her resources.

At that moment the man idly remarked that he had seen, in the Lingnan region, children from fishing boats treading on adults’ backs to give massages.

Minglan wiped her sweat with a handkerchief and said irritably: “Your daughter is in the capital, and as for a son, I have no idea.”

Gu Tingye settled back silently into the pile of pillows. After a moment, he suggested that Minglan could substitute.

“How could that be proper?” Minglan objected, genuinely taken aback, and stated in earnest that she was a proper and dutiful wife. To tread on one’s husband’s back? If the old madam found out, she would be made to copy out the Commandments for Women as punishment.

“We’ll do it in secret — as long as no one else knows, it’s fine.”

“I’m no child — aren’t you afraid I’d trample you to death?” Minglan narrowed her eyes threateningly.

Gu Tingye immediately sat up and gave Minglan a brief embrace, gauged her weight, and indicated there was absolutely no problem. All the while urging her on, he helped her take off her shoes and stockings, revealing two small white chubby feet — ten round, soft little toes. Minglan bit her lip, grabbed the bed’s top railing, and stepped tremblingly onto the man’s back.

At first she only dared put one foot down; the man said it was too light. Minglan, out of pique, placed both feet down, thinking that if he said it was still not enough, she would jump rope on his back and see if she couldn’t stamp him flat.

The man’s back was wide and his muscles level and firm — Minglan had steady footing. She worked with her toes pressed in, her arch pressed down, her heel kneading in circles. Gu Tingye half-closed his eyes, looking entirely content.

Medicinal herbal baths, hot spring soaks, appropriate summer-season nourishing tonics, and refreshing chilled drinks made from wild honey and fresh fruit flesh — each day’s meals were carefully arranged. Ginseng and hawthorn red-date braised pigeon; Dragon Well tea shrimp with fish skin; bamboo pith and bird’s nest in chicken broth; jellyfish in cold-dressed bamboo shoots; white cabbage and ox tripe soup… Some dishes light and delicate, others rich and deep-flavored — each one, merely at the smell of it, had one’s mouth watering.

In just two days, the man had completely recovered. All the fatigue of recent weeks swept clean away. Not only was he vigorous and brimming with energy once more — his vitality surpassed even his usual measure. Before long he was eyeing Minglan with a gaze that fairly glowed green with implication.

Minglan’s ears twitched involuntarily.

Gu Tingye was in the prime of his manhood, and after long abstinence had finally broken his fast — now there was simply no moderation in him. Before the sky had fully darkened he was already urgently steering Minglan toward the bed. At first Minglan had also been enthusiastic for a few days — but the man’s capacity was astonishing. She became deeply convinced that if not for the necessity of a sustainable arrangement, he would probably swallow her whole, skin and bone alike. She then began to find she could not keep up, and resumed her career of tearful pleading for mercy.

The room, warm and damp, draped in low-hanging dark teal gauze bed curtains — within it floated a panting charged with intimate implication, and thin weeping sounds that one could not tell were begging or something else. The bedding all about was in disarray; limbs still entwined.

The man loomed over her, one hand holding her slender waist, the other freed to wipe the tears from her face. He lifted her hips and tormented her even more fiercely. Minglan, burning as if on fire from head to toe, covered her eyes with both hands and whimpered softly. The man drew her hands away, and saw her large, alluring eyes — wet and glistening as if about to drip — her whole face flushed deep red. He could not have known that this very expression of hers was adding fuel to the fire.

The man’s eyes reddened at the sight of her; he held fast to one of her legs and pressed in heavily. Minglan cried out in helpless protest, and he made a deliberate effort to be tender, kneading her gently, hoping to ease her discomfort.

She trembled violently; at her chest, two dots of deep crimson, fresh as ripe cherries. He bent to kiss them, drawing on them as though he could dissolve them entirely. Her jade-white delicate body rippled with wave upon wave of rose-petal flush — tempting as if painted in rouge — her legs draped limp and strengthless around his waist. When he made to lift her legs onto his shoulders, she knew what that meant and was frightened into shuddering, hurriedly wrapping her arms tighter around his sturdy waist. With that motion, an inner contraction surged through her, and the sensation drove him to a low, rumbling growl in return. He lost what control remained and sucked and bit at her neck, his large hands pressing hard against her chest.

In that boundless, blurred expanse, Minglan cradled the head resting against her chest. The man’s thick, dark hair was soaked through with sweat. They both panted in hoarse gasps; her body was numb and dissolving, she felt as though she had become a pool of water. She cried out sweetly again and again, all manner of tender endearments spilling out — whatever sweet words she could think of — hoping only that he would finish sooner.

The panting gradually ceased. Gu Tingye let out a long, heavy breath, held her feverish body and kissed her without stopping. He pressed his lips to the side of her face, his voice low and rough and ragged: “Little fool — why cry? Don’t you know this is pleasure?”

Minglan lay limp and spreadeagled on the bed, too weak even to move, and said in fragmented complaint: “…Fewer times would be better. My back aches…”

“We’ll go soak in the spring — the aching will stop.” Gu Tingye kneaded the soft, silken mounds at her chest — smooth and yielding as fresh sheep’s milk.

Minglan’s face burned all over again. She shook her head absolutely and buried herself in the thin silk-satin bedcovers. Since the time he had cornered her in the hot spring — held her bare against the poolside stones, with the water all around, and carried on completely unrestrained for two full hours — she had never dared go into the spring again.

At last his requested holiday from the Emperor was not long, and after a few days the two returned to the main house.

Strictly speaking, on this trip they had toured mountains and streams, flowers and birds — those kept at home — and had climbed half of a small earthen slope, the one at the back of the manor. The sunrise from the mountaintop that Gu Tingye had promised to take her to see had also fallen through. But at any rate, they had managed to play and wander hand-in-hand together — well, one supposed it counted as a honeymoon.

Minglan suddenly thought of her elder female cousin from her previous life, who had enthusiastically planned an elaborate six-day honeymoon on Hainan Island before her wedding — only to come back frantically asking Yao Yiyi to help retouch a set of photos, because during the honeymoon they had been so “occupied” they had barely managed to see any of the sights.

Most honeymoons are probably like this, she supposed. Minglan finally understood.

That morning Gu Tingye rode his horse with a radiant expression, pointing out the scenery along the way and remarking on it here and there. Minglan lay low inside the carriage feigning death, stretched out on the cushioned bedding, unable to summon a single word. Not until the carriage had passed through the gates of their residence and they had transferred to a palanquin did Minglan raise her head — and saw him standing below the decorative gate arch, looking at her with an expression that was half a smile and not quite a smile. Inexplicably her heart felt guilty; her face suddenly went red, as vivid as if blood had rushed to the surface.

They had barely returned to their rooms when someone came rushing to report. The one who arrived was Nanny Xiang herself — her expression showed some urgency, though she was still composed. She said only that the Ningyuan Marquis household had sent for both of them to come at once, a matter of great urgency, and they must please hurry.

Minglan was at a complete loss; but Gu Tingye beside her asked not a single question and only said steadily: “It sounds as though something urgent has arisen. I’ll not ask now. Nanny Xiang, please return ahead of us — we’ll change our clothing and be there directly.”

Nanny Xiang gave a proper bow of acknowledgment and withdrew.

When Minglan turned to go into the inner room to change her inner garments, Qinsang slipped quietly into the room. Her face held a look of anxiety. She leaned close to Minglan’s ear and said: “Does Madam know — not two days after you departed, official constables went to the Marquis household and took people in for questioning?”

Minglan’s forehead gave a start; her heart clenched. Her first instinct was to look at Gu Tingye — through the gap in the bamboo curtain, she could see him sitting composed on the edge of the bed, his expression untroubled, one foot lifted as Xia He and Xia Zhu helped him change his boots.