Given that she was steeling herself for a prolonged campaign against the women and children of the Gu household, that night, after the lamps were put out and the bed curtains drawn, Minglan firmly refused a certain someone’s various attempts at provocation, turned her back resolutely toward him, and curled herself around her quilt like a small shrimp — sleeping soundly until morning. Gu Tingye was simultaneously exasperated and amused; he was not a man of particularly strong appetites in this regard, and so he simply pulled her shoulder close and lay down to sleep as well.

When they awoke early the next morning, Minglan found that the quilt she had been hugging had been replaced at some point by a thick, sturdy arm, and a familiar long leg rested across her middle. She rubbed her eyes for quite a while, then set about rousing the man with a coordinated deployment of all four limbs. On mornings when there was no early court, Minglan would typically make the effort to get up with him, share breakfast, and see him out the door.

After washing up, she was sitting before her mirror examining her reflection when Gu Tingye emerged from the washroom, his expression slightly peculiar. He waved the maidservants out of the room, then stepped in long strides to stand before Minglan, rolled back his sleeve, and fixed those dark, teasing eyes on her. “If you wanted pork knuckle, you had only to say so. Was all of this really necessary?”

On his strong upper arm, against skin of a faint warm brown with slightly raised muscle, was a shallow, perfectly round bite mark — neat teeth impressions arranged in a neat arc, each little print looking as though it were splitting open in a grin, all of them beaming up at Minglan.

A stab of guilt. Minglan had absolutely no memory of it — yet she refused to admit that she had been dreaming of pork knuckle. Stiffening her nerve, she said, “That — well, before a great battle, one must consecrate the banner, yes? This — this bite mark is merely a modest expression of my determination.”

Gu Tingye had been prepared to let it go, but this creature had the audacity to dig in her heels and deny it, refusing to give an inch. He narrowed his eyes deliberately and set his face into a stern expression. “Well said. Then I shall express my determination as well.”

In the end, Gu Tingye held out his arm beside her shoulder and neck for comparison — two matching arcs of bite marks, perfectly proportioned in size. He indicated that he was quite satisfied with the result. Minglan pressed her hand over her tender shoulder — soft as tofu — and looked at the man with aggrieved eyes, wordlessly registering her protest: I was completely unaware and innocent in my sleep, while you did this with full intention and deliberate purpose.

Her little put-upon expression tickled Gu Tingye enormously. He held her close with some affection for a good while, and his hands began to wander rather too freely — they nearly sparked a fire — but in the end there was no time left for breakfast. The man had to content himself with gulping down two flaky rolls stuffed with pork before heading out the door. Just before leaving, Minglan kindly held up a handkerchief to wipe his mouth — and he deliberately pressed several kisses all over her face. Minglan tried to dodge but was too slow; he smeared her entire face with crumbs from the pastry.

Danju held the basin and re-attended to Minglan’s washing, her face indignant, muttering a few syllables of quiet reproach. At her side, Nanny Cui laughed until her old face creased into a map of wrinkles, and shot Danju a stern look. “What does a little girl like you know? Don’t speak carelessly.”

New brides and grooms should be just like this — sweet as honeyed oil blending together. These past weeks, she had watched Minglan going about in a state of quiet dejection, with Gu Tingye’s mood following in kind. Nanny Cui had been not a little uneasy. Now, seeing the couple even more harmoniously close than before, she finally felt at ease.

When the Marquis Mansion women next came calling, they found that Minglan today was not the Minglan of yesterday. Her manner had grown even more warm and agreeable.

Faced with the female relatives’ litany of grievances, Minglan expressed deep and genuine sympathy, and optimistically encouraged them that “it surely will not come to anything drastic” — meaning no one would lose their heads — then, perfectly composed, went right on attending to the management of the household as usual: interrogating the estate managers, or distributing the monthly allowances.

In the midst of all this, she opened the storeroom twice. The first time, she took out several fine pieces of leather, along with gift lists she had prepared in advance, and had them sent to the household of Old General Bo as congratulations on the birth of a daughter. The Bo family had always kept a low profile, and it was estimated that even the child’s full-month celebration would not be held with any great fanfare.

The second time the storeroom was opened, things were being put in rather than taken out.

Ever since the banquet marking the grand opening of the household, Minglan had finally come to understand the advantages of occupying a position of rank. In the days since, she had received seven or eight substantial gifts in succession: former subordinates of Gu Tingye, now serving in provincial posts, who sent their “local tribute” each winter, summer, and at the New Year without fail; current colleagues of Gu Tingye, who dispatched “congratulatory gifts” under a variety of pretexts; and seven or eight barely-connected relatives who defied all categorization.

This sort of thing was not unfamiliar to Minglan — it was just that before, it had been the Sheng household preparing gift lists to send to the households of various respected seniors of her father’s acquaintance. It was not precisely bribery or graft, but rather a matter of cultivating and maintaining goodwill, in hopes of receiving a word of assistance or recommendation in due course. The recipients might not have been especially covetous of the gifts themselves, but the act of respectful offering signaled that one “understood the ways of things” — that one was not the sort who accepted a favor and then played ignorant as though nothing had happened.

And now, the situation was reversed: Minglan was the one receiving. She had not been a member of the privileged class for very long, and receiving things as a matter of course still felt somewhat unnatural to her.

“Master Fu’s household is most courteous.” Minglan held a gift list in hand and addressed the servant woman standing before her with a mild smile. “Old Master Fu went through fire and blood alongside my late father-in-law — theirs is a bond forged over generations. There is no need for such ceremony.”

“Madam speaks truly.” The servant woman was perhaps forty or so, dressed with considerable propriety, and bobbed a respectful curtsy. “My Master’s health has not been good, and he has been remiss in his visits. In these past years he has allowed a certain distance to grow between himself and old friends… My Master always said that the Commander-General was a man of exceptional promise. Seeing it proved so now, my Master is glad for the sake of the late Marquis.”

Minglan smiled faintly, and glanced toward Bing’er the Second and Zhu Shi nearby, noting that their expressions were deeply unpleasant.

In recent days, a number of households that had previously been on close terms with Ningyuan Marquis Mansion had been quietly shifting their allegiances. Gu Tingye and Gongsun Baishi had deliberated at length — those households caught up as peripheral casualties could be given a measure of assistance; those whose troubles were entirely of their own making were turned away at the door.

This old master had once been a colleague of Old Marquis Gu, and the Fu family was itself a military household going back generations — inevitably they had been swept into the edge of the storm in the recent upheaval.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Minglan had the servant woman taken away with some medicinal supplements and tonics as return gifts for the Fu household.

Returning gifts also carried its own fine distinctions. To send back the gift entirely untouched conveyed the message: “Please do not trouble me — we are not close.” To accept the gift and promptly return one of equal value signified: “Thank you for your regard, but let us keep a certain distance between us.” To accept and then send back only a small token in acknowledgment — as Minglan had done now — expressed willingness to receive the other party’s goodwill.

Those who simply took things with open arms and made no gesture of reciprocity were, as a rule, either households of very long-standing intimacy, or those in positions of patronage toward the giver, or else circumstances of some other particular nature — but in all cases, it still amounted to a mutual exchange of one form or another.

With the guests seen off, Minglan felt quite satisfied with her own performance, and quietly reflected that marriage had already taught her no small number of new things.

Paying no attention to Bing’er the Second’s cold and cutting remarks, Minglan turned to Zhu Shi with warm hospitality and invited her to try the new pastries. “These are made with the fresh clotted cream just sent down from the north. I found it rather strong and a touch gamy eaten straight, as they do up there, so I had it made into pastries — and it turns out even better this way: rich, smooth, and wonderfully soft.”

Zhu Shi forced her expression into rigidity and, taking up a pastry, labored through a few tentative bites. Bing’er the Second bit down on her lip. “Sister-in-law truly has such a relaxed and carefree disposition — with your own uncles and brothers in dire straits, practically on the verge of taking a blade to their own throats, you can still sit here so completely untroubled. I don’t know what your heart is made of.”

“Well said — my heart is made of exactly the same stuff as any other woman’s in this world.” Minglan turned slowly to look at her, a slight smile on her lips. “Since Second Sister-in-law has put it so plainly, allow me to say something from the heart today as well.”

Minglan smoothed out the folds of her skirt and met her gaze. “Matters outside the household are not something I, as a woman, have any hand in to begin with. But I have said everything there is to say, and done everything there is to do. If my husband has other concerns or considerations of his own, am I to force him?”

Bing’er the Second puffed up with indignation. Minglan spoke with gravity. “At the end of it all, a married woman follows her husband — the husband’s will is the wife’s guiding principle. Even one’s own family must yield a step before one’s husband’s household. If you ask every married woman in the world, how many would pit themselves against their own husbands for the sake of someone else’s affairs? I know this is not a pleasant thing to hear, but the real truth rarely is.”

Bing’er the Second knew in her heart that this was the correct reasoning; she had no rebuttal. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and just as she was about to speak, Minglan gently cut her off with a smile: “Perhaps Second Sister-in-law has the courage for it — but Minglan has barely been in this household half a year, with no children yet. I can only conduct myself with prudence and humility, and would never dare overstep by half an inch. I ask Second Sister-in-law to understand.” This was followed by two rueful smiles, to convey a sense of helplessness.

The key to refusing without giving offense was: keep the manner warm, hold the line on principle, make the reasoning plain and clear — to show that this was not a failure of will but a failure of means, a matter of heaven’s will rather than human choice. She and these women were sisters-in-law; they would inevitably continue to cross paths in the future. Better to keep things on a more harmonious footing.

Besides, there was no point in saying more than had already been said. Their capacity to keep pestering her had its limits. In a few more days, once they could see there was no prospect of progress, they would likely settle down of their own accord.

Minglan continued to smile amiably and invite them to drink tea and eat pastries. When there was business to attend to, she attended to it; when there was not, she took up her small sewing basket and worked at needlework, demonstrating her domestic virtue. After all, they could hardly physically assault her — so left ear in, right ear out was perfectly sufficient.

“The stitches are so fine and close.” It was Zhu Shi who proved more attuned to the atmosphere; she moved to Minglan’s side and picked up a small embroidered infant’s stomacher, remarking, “Just look at this — the pattern, the needlework — it truly is exceptional.”

Minglan’s face softened slightly pink. She pinched the end of her thread. “My eldest sister from my family has sent word asking if I might come to see her — I plan to go tomorrow morning. This piece still lacks a few stitches; I may as well finish it and bring it along as a gift.”

Zhu Shi gave a small start, then quickly resumed her usual expression, and said in a teasing tone, “Oh, of course — it is your own dear sister, after all. I wonder if my little Xian Ge’er will ever be so lucky as to wear needlework of such quality.” Her gaze shifted, and she fixed it deliberately on Minglan, adding with a deliberate touch, “After all, making it for someone else’s child is never quite the same as making it for one’s own. I wonder when you will have one of your own?”

Minglan’s face flushed a deep pink; she smiled with demure sweetness and gave Zhu Shi a “gentle” push. “Oh, you— ! Really! How can you say such things to someone…”

Zhu Shi had not been braced for it; she lurched sideways and nearly toppled off her chair entirely, her arm striking something and sending stars of pain across her vision.

The next day, on her visit to the Loyal and Diligent Earl’s household, Minglan told Hualan the whole story, sending her into such laughter she bent nearly double, collapsing across the couch and using one slender finger to poke at Minglan’s forehead. “You — you! This old already, and still acting like a child! Getting your own back like this — is it really that satisfying?”

Minglan was entirely unbothered. “They have been tormenting me something dreadful these past days — am I not allowed a little back? If it had been Fifth Sister in my place, I imagine it would have been brooms and cleavers instead.”

Hualan pressed a handkerchief lightly to her lips, laughing until she trembled like a flower in wind.

Minglan looked her over carefully. Hualan did indeed seem better — still a little thin, but her brows were smooth and untroubled, the shadow of worry gone from her face, and in the lightness of her manner she seemed to have returned, faintly, to the carefree and proud young lady of the Sheng household she had once been.

When the laughter finally subsided, Hualan had a large tray of pastries brought out. “Here — try these. Cuichan has not made them in a good while.”

Brilliant red small flower cakes filled with sweet bean paste, golden honey fruit-and-nut dew pastries, chewy red sugar glutinous rice stuffed lotus root, and plump, sweet, yielding cream bean rolls — Minglan tasted one after another, and the flavors were familiar and wonderful. She sighed, “Grandmother truly does favor Elder Sister most — she gave you Cuichan, who inherited Nanny Fang’s best recipes. Since I left home, I have not tasted these flavors.”

Cuiwei made a show of mock affront. “So Mistress finds us all lacking, is that it? Very well then, Cuichan — why not trade places with me? Otherwise our Mistress will look upon us with nothing but contempt.”

Cuichan covered her laugh with her hand. Hualan pointed at Cuiwei and said with a laugh, “You little scamp — everyone knows your Mistress is generous to those beneath her. Stop fishing for compliments while you have the advantage!”

“Cuichan dear!” Xiaotao, seeing those familiar pastries and feeling the pull of appetite, edged over with her most winning expression. “Since our Mistress is such a good person, why not just come over to our side?”

Cuichan was by nature gentle and mild, and made no argument; she simply moved to stand beside Hualan and said softly, “I grew up alongside my Mistress. I made a promise to serve her all my life — even if she were to beat me, scold me, or drive me away, I would never leave.”

Minglan made no effort to hide her envy, and made quite a few noises of admiration. Hualan said nothing aloud, but inwardly she was greatly pleased. A few more words, and she sent Cuichan out to take Cuiwei and Xiaotao for some pastries.

“Elder Sister has been looking much better lately!” Minglan popped a pastry into her mouth and smiled meaningfully. “These pastries take such a complicated process — all those ingredients, all that equipment — which means Elder Sister now has a little kitchen of her very own?”

Hualan made a small, playful face and, seeing Minglan getting crumbs all over herself, laughed and wiped the corner of her mouth for her. “Nanny Fang is getting on in years, and I know you feel awkward asking too much of her. From now on, when you want pastries, just come to Sister — send word and I’ll have Cuichan make them and send them over.”

Minglan leaned against her in contentment. “No one treats me as well as Elder Sister.”

Hualan laughed like a spring flower, smoothed a strand of Minglan’s hair into place. “Silly girl.”

She knew Hualan’s nature as well as she knew her own hand: Hualan was the elder-sister type through and through — she liked looking after those who were younger and more dependent. The sense of accomplishment she got from caring for others pleased her more than any favor done for herself.

“That matter…” Minglan thought of something and could not suppress her curiosity. She asked tentatively, “How did it go?”

She had been the one behind that dubious scheme in the first place, and had no idea of the outcome. When she had arrived a short while ago, she had only had time for a quick glance — the new Yiniang appeared dignified and pleasant-looking; though her youth had passed, her warmth and gentleness were still evident. She spoke little, was observant of propriety, and followed properly behind Madam Yuan. There was nothing servile or excessively fawning in her manner.

Hualan shot her a sideways look, knowing exactly what was in her mind, and said at once with great satisfaction, “The stratagem has worked.”

The Shoushan Earl’s wife had had no intention of bringing in some truly flirtatious and coquettish little temptress to cause domestic upheaval. And so this Nanny Zhang she had found was not young or especially beautiful — but she was reasonable and virtuous, made no unreasonable demands whatsoever, was perfectly respectable in speech and conduct, and was gentle, attentive, and considerate, treating everyone above and below her with warmth and kindness. The Earl of Loyal and Diligent, whose heart had long lain parched and neglected, found it suddenly drenched as if by Niagara Falls.

Nanny Zhang came from a respectable family and had been personally engaged by the Shoushan Earl’s wife, with Earl Yuan’s own agreement — which made her the very model of an honored concubine. Madam Yuan could not prevent her from entering the household, and had planned to deal with her quietly afterward. But Nanny Zhang’s conduct gave her not a single true fault to seize upon; her deference toward the mistress of the house was unfailingly respectful — even when struck across the face or made to kneel for no reason, she accepted it all, and then appeared before Old Earl Yuan in the evening bearing the marks of her injuries across her face and body.

As for the reason for such punishment, Madam Yuan could produce nothing more than “she was disrespectful and angered me” — no credible or coherent explanation forthcoming. Presented with this, Earl Yuan was filled with cold fury and accused her directly of “jealousy” — one of the seven grounds for repudiation, a charge far more serious in its moral weight than merely mistreating a daughter-in-law.

Most critically of all, Nanny Zhang and the Old Earl now shared a sleeping chamber on nearly every night. Even when Madam Yuan had her lady-companion deploy her legendary needle arts, the Old Earl would still discover the marks come evening.

After two nights of reflection in the ancestral hall, Madam Yuan swallowed her rage and dared no longer treat Nanny Zhang too harshly.

Picking on the soft target — she then turned to Hualan, claiming that the growing number of grandsons in the household meant the rooms were insufficient, and that expansion of the rear garden was necessary, and asked Hualan to “lend” some silver as a temporary measure.

Nanny Zhang was a shrewd woman. She understood that to secure her footing within the Earl’s household, she needed more than just the Old Earl’s favor — and that from before she even entered the door, she had already received the Shoushan Earl’s wife’s instruction: to check Madam Yuan’s willful and outrageous behavior, before she drove the Yuan family entirely to ruin.

In the past, whenever something like this arose, the Old Earl might have sensed something amiss, but was no match for Madam Yuan’s weeping and dramatic recitations of countless expenses and the hardships of managing the household — after enough bluster and head-spinning confusion, the Old Earl would develop a headache and simply let it go.

Hualan might feel something was wrong but could not be constantly going to make complaints — “criticizing an elder” was itself a form of unfilial conduct.

But Nanny Zhang was rather more clever. She simply raised one question: the Loyal and Diligent Earl’s household had very limited irregular income; its revenue came from farmland, shops, and the official stipend — all clear and transparent items. The household had also always been known for its frugality, never mounting extravagant occasions. By any reasonable reckoning, over the years there ought to have been some surplus — so how was it that the moment construction was proposed, there was suddenly insufficient silver?

It was rather like a household with an annual income of one hundred thousand, spending fifty thousand in the ordinary course of a year. If, over several years, there had been no major celebrations (for instance, receiving an imperial consort and building a separate garden), no severe illness requiring costly treatment (Hualan’s poor health and Yuan Shao’s relationship-building had all been managed from their own resources), no extravagant daily living — in short, if there had been no large extraordinary expenditure, then by any accounting there should have been no shortfall at all. There should, in fact, have been savings.

“This servant has not been long in the household and dares not presume to speak out of turn. But today my Lady spoke with such gravity — as though if Second Young Madam does not produce the silver, the household cannot make ends meet. I wonder… how is this possible?”

The Old Earl had known poverty in his youth; at these words, a cold shock went through him. Combined with the steady breath in his ear at night, the very next day he demanded a full accounting of the Earl’s household finances.

Madam Yuan was nearly frightened out of her wits. She first spent half a day howling and creating a scene, refusing to hand over the accounts — which of course only made people more suspicious. In the end, the Old Earl produced the household rules and forced her to comply. When the books were examined, it was discovered that Madam Yuan had been drawing considerable sums from the accounts each year. At first she claimed it had been given to help her family — but when pressed further, it emerged that she had been taken in by her brothers-in-law, who had convinced her to put the money into “business ventures.” The ventures, naturally, had all failed.

Earl Yuan nearly brought up blood from sheer fury. The household had practiced frugality for years and built up its savings with care — and nearly half of it had been eaten away.

To speak truthfully, all Hualan had originally hoped was for her father-in-law to understand that the Earl’s household finances were actually quite comfortable, and that there was absolutely no need to cut into his daughter-in-law’s private allowance — it was simply Madam Yuan being deliberately difficult and unkind. Hualan had imagined that once the accounts were examined, she herself would at least be left in peace for a while.

“I truly never expected my mother-in-law to be so bold,” Hualan said, herself genuinely astonished.

The final judgment was this: Madam Yuan permanently lost control of the household finances. From that point forward, all income and expenditure in the Earl’s household, along with all detailed account records, would be jointly managed by the two daughters-in-law. Should there be any disagreement or matter too significant to decide between them, they would ask Nanny Zhang to convey the matter to the Old Earl, and Madam Yuan was to have no say whatsoever.

That very evening, Madam Yuan disheveled her hair and stormed about the household threatening to hang herself, dragging her two sons in to plead her case — invoking arguments along the lines of “even if I have made no great contribution, surely I have done some service.” The Old Earl was so furious that one side of his body went numb. “Before you came into this household, the Yuan family’s foundations were sounder than they are now. What service are you speaking of?”

When the commotion was driven to its extreme, the Old Earl threatened to open the ancestral hall: “I no longer care about my own face — I’ll summon all the uncles and cousins to come and see for themselves whether you are fit to hold the position of principal matriarch! After that, whether it is a letter of repudiation or a one-way journey to a nunnery, they can decide!”

At this, Madam Yuan finally showed some fear. Her reputation within the clan was not good. If the ancestral hall were truly opened, it would amount to a death sentence of sorts.

“That explains why Elder Sister’s color has been so good lately.” Minglan understood now.

Hualan felt as though she had been breathing freely for the first time in days; when she walked, her chin was lifted and her step had a new vigor. “This time, even my own eldest brother-in-law is not taking my mother-in-law’s side!” She laughed with undisguised pride, a picture of sunshine and satisfaction.

“Naturally,” said Minglan without surprise. When all was said and done, Madam Yuan had squandered what was also the eldest Yuan son’s inheritance.

“Those two in the east wing are having quite the quarrel right now.” Hualan pointed toward the east, meaning the Yuan family’s eldest branch. “Elder Brother blames her for helping conceal everything for my mother-in-law — and says that if it had not been discovered now, by the time he inherited the title, the Yuan household would have been nothing but an empty shell.”

The Yuan brothers, though one was capable and one was middling, were on genuinely good terms — Yuan Shao in particular had made clear on several occasions his willingness to take a smaller share of the family inheritance, intending to make his own way by his own abilities.

“Do you think,” said Hualan, biting her red lip with small white teeth, a sly smile spreading across her face, “I should have Nanny Zhang send a couple of maidservants over there? Let things liven up a little on that side too…”

“Don’t! Don’t — absolutely not!” Minglan immediately cut off Hualan’s terrible plan. “The situation in Elder Brother’s household is just right as it is.”

“Is it?” Hualan was full of suspicion. She was in high spirits right now, ten years of pent-up resentment all wanting to pour out at once.

“What benefit is it to you if Elder Brother and his wife are quarreling? Will it put two extra pounds of flesh on Elder Sister’s bones?” Minglan lowered her voice and put on the expression of a scheming military advisor. “Harming others with no benefit to oneself is absolutely not to be tolerated. If you are going to harm someone — it must be to your own advantage!”

Hualan was a perceptive woman; one hint was enough. But the frustration lodged in her chest needed somewhere to go.

Minglan caught sight of the collarbone jutting prominently above Hualan’s neckline, and felt a surge of real tenderness. “Elder Sister, you must look further ahead. Your mother-in-law will not settle down. Once she has been put in her place elsewhere, she is certain to come looking for you to vent her displeasure — and you cannot answer her back. Your health is not good right now; if she uses that as a pretext to insist that your husband take in more concubines, what then?”

Hualan nodded slowly. “You’re right. If my mother-in-law dares open her mouth again, I will ask Nanny Zhang to bring it straight to Father-in-law’s attention. He has two sons and two daughters-in-law — there is no rule that says he can be this partial.” She had swallowed ten years of grievance; now, at last, she had her husband’s heart, and two sons to depend on. She had some ground to stand on.

The thought of her sons made her eyes shift; she reached out and caught Minglan by the front of her garment, lowering her voice. “Tell me — is there any news with you yet?”

Minglan sat holding an untouched cup of tea, looking at Hualan with a blank expression. This woman’s mind worked quickly. She said helplessly, “I have been married barely two months — how could there be news so soon?”

Her menstrual cycle ran longer than most women’s — forty days to a cycle — which also meant fewer ovulation windows relatively speaking.

“Don’t try to play innocent with me!” Hualan glared, snatching the pastry from her hand. “You have Old Madam He’s handwritten instructions with you. Now tell me honestly — when exactly are you planning to have one?”

Minglan knew there was no hiding it from Hualan and smiled ruefully. “I had originally wanted to wait half a year. But just the day before yesterday Grandmother gave me quite the talking-to — I’m thinking once this round of medicine is finished, I’ll leave it at that. About one more month, give or take.”

Sheng Lao’s thinking was: even if she became pregnant, there was no guarantee of a son the first time. It was soon enough — just get on with it.

Hualan nodded, satisfied. “Good that you know! A woman must ultimately have children to depend on. Don’t be foolish and reckless — just because Erlang favors you right now, don’t go drifting along without thinking ahead.”

Minglan felt deeply wronged; she raised both hands in a low cry of protest. “How is that what’s happening! I am simply keeping the green hills standing so I’ll never lack for firewood! Old Madam He made it very clear — the first birth matters most, and the body must be properly prepared; after that, the subsequent births will all follow more smoothly. But when I first entered the Gu household, there were pits and traps everywhere, visible and hidden, that I did not know about. Without first putting things in order inside and outside the household, knowing the character of every person attending me, and having certainty about what I eat and use every day — would I dare bring a child into all of that?”

Even with Old Madam He’s medical skill, she had not been able to save the infant who was lost — because a hidden arrow is nearly impossible to guard against.

“You just like to argue!” Hualan grabbed Minglan’s ear and glared at her. “Enough talk. Hurry up and have a son!”

Minglan rescued her ear and said with a straight face, “Elder Sister ought to stop lecturing me and take proper care of her own health. If your body is not well, everything else is empty. What if something were to go wrong — would you be at peace with your husband marrying again? Would you be at peace leaving your nephew and niece in another woman’s hands? The medicine I brought this time is all prepared according to the correct formulas. You had better look after yourself properly.”

Hualan switched to pinching Minglan’s chubby cheeks instead, scolding her with laughter. “Fine! If you are so capable, go and consult Old Madam He and produce four sons and four daughters — eight children in total! If you can do that, I, as your elder sister, will bow down to you!”

Minglan was not the least bit flustered, and gave a very earnest nod. “Exactly right. I do indeed plan to consult Old Madam He on having many children and having them well.”

Hualan: …