My family is the Bai Family of Yiniang — no, let me begin again properly.

My family is the Sheng Family of Yuyiang, renowned throughout Jinling. From the time my great-great-grandfather was fortunate enough to place third in the imperial examinations, yet sadly passed away in his prime, to when my great-grandfather Sheng Hong retired from office having already reached the rank of Senior Second Grade — every generation had passed both levels of the imperial examinations and entered official service. Among them, my grandfather Sheng Changbai was even more distinguished: a two-dynasty elder statesman enshrined in the Hall of Illustrious Ministers, who entered the Grand Secretariat four times, served as Chief Minister, held posts across six ministries and ten provinces, with former students and proteges spread throughout the realm.

And I — I am merely a small and insignificant concubine-born daughter within this prestigious and refined household. And not even a favored concubine’s daughter, at that.

Grandfather governed the family strictly. He required all his descendants to first cultivate personal virtue and set their households in order before speaking of governing the nation and bringing peace to the realm. Any conduct unbecoming the family’s dignity was dealt with immediately by family discipline. All branches complied — save for my father, who was the sole exception.

In my father’s youth, Grandfather happened to be posted to the northwest as a frontier administrator. Grandmother, as was customary, accompanied him. With no other option, they left the frail youngest child in the care of my great-great-grandmother, Lady Wang. The old matriarch could not help but spoil him with excessive indulgence. By the time Grandfather and Grandmother returned to the capital, this father of mine had been raised into a proud and idle young man who thought only of pleasure.

Afterward, Grandfather made several attempts to discipline him, but Great-Great-Grandmother would weep and wail and threaten to take her own life each time. Grandfather, perpetually occupied with court affairs, could not wage daily battle between an aging mother and a wayward son. And so my father muddled along in this ambiguous state all the way until he took a wife and had children.

What do I mean by ambiguous? To call him accomplished would be an insult to the Sheng Family — known throughout the realm for its distinguished lineage — given that he had achieved nothing beyond the status of a stipend scholar. Yet to call him a disgrace would not be entirely fair either, for he never truly dared to mingle with the capital’s idle young nobles, nor did he create any scandal involving kept women or actresses.

By the time I was old enough to walk and run, I could still often see Great-Great-Grandmother cradling my thoroughly grown father in her arms, wailing at Grandfather who stood holding the family discipline rod: “…Who says my Ah Huan is no good? In an ordinary family, producing even one successful examination candidate is difficult enough. It just so happens that the Sheng ancestors burned incense at all the right shrines, so the grandchildren one after another are all scholars, and that makes Ah Huan look bad by comparison. What is the crime in taking on a few more serving girls? I know you are displeased with me — you see that I love Ah Huan a little more, so you want to torment him to death. Oh heavens, it would be cleaner if I simply dashed my head against the wall first…”

Facing the weeping tangle of grandmother and grandson, even Grandfather — capable of all things — had no choice but to relent. The embarrassed Grandmother would then turn to offer a few words of comfort to her daughter-in-law, and that would be the end of the matter.

My official mother and Father had no real affection for each other. After producing one son and one daughter, the couple essentially ceased to interfere in each other’s affairs. Their greatest daily entertainment consisted of satirizing Father through artistic expression — sometimes in the form of doggerel verse, sometimes through painting, and most often by using Father as a negative example when educating my elder brother about the importance of diligent study and self-cultivation.

Father could not afford to provoke official mother and simply kept a respectful distance. Aside from the obligatory days each month required by household rules, he spent his time among his lesser companions. My Yiniang was allotted four days each month.

Given my father’s level of boldness and wisdom, he neither dared to seek out those remarkable women who were “lowly in station but lofty in ambition,” nor did anyone arrange for him to take on a proper concubine of good family. Thus the composition of his concubines consisted entirely, without exception, of serving maids from the household.

Among Father’s considerable harem, my Yiniang occupied a middling position — neither as favored as the later Li Yiniang, nor as neglected and ignored as Zhao Yiniang, who had lost her looks before her time. My Yiniang’s greatest rival was Qiu Yiniang, who lived directly across from us.

The two of them had been sold into the Sheng Mansion within days of each other, had both entered the inner household as young master’s attendants at nearly the same time, and Qiu Yiniang had her coming-of-age ceremony performed a mere twenty days before my Yiniang. Yet when it came to being elevated to the status of Yiniang, my Yiniang was elevated a full three days earlier. Even their daughters were born only half a month apart. Truly they were evenly matched rivals who would not rest until one had overcome the other.

Their respective serving women, matrons, and even the cats they kept absolutely refused to associate with one another. This animosity ran so deep that even the Seventh Sister born of Qiu Yiniang looked at me as though I were a sworn enemy — and at present, their greatest contest was to see who would first produce a son.

What hardship, and for what purpose.

I do not mean this about the two Yiniangss — bearing a son is a woman’s greatest life ambition and pursuit, and of course one should strive for it. What I mean is: what hardship for Seventh Sister, and for what purpose?

Our eldest female cousin born of a concubine had already been married off. At the time, First Uncle held the rank of a Sixth Grade official, and with Grandfather’s prestige lending additional weight, she was matched with a wealthy examination candidate of the juren degree. By this reckoning, my father was nothing more than a stipend scholar and was not in Grandfather’s good graces — which meant that both Seventh Sister and I would likely marry either a scholar of modest means or the wife of a minor landed gentry. There was even a possibility we might end up as the mistresses of merchant households.

We were essentially equals — the only question was whether Seventh Sister preferred status or silver ingots. As for me, it made no difference either way. Given the social standing and family values of our household, they would not use daughters to curry favor with the powerful, nor would they allow official mother to torment concubine-born daughters by intentionally matching them with inferior husbands. But given the constraints of our circumstances, Father was essentially a man without rank. Everything was more or less predetermined — what was there worth fighting over?

Yet Seventh Sister could not make peace with this. From physical appearance and personal adornment to scholarship and social graces, she competed with me in every respect — and won by an overwhelming margin.

Yiniang, disappointed that I would not rise to the occasion, pursued me daily with her nagging. When I grew weary of her persistence, I turned the tables and educated her instead: What is the purpose of a concubine-born daughter making herself so conspicuous? Competing with the legitimate daughters would only invite punishment. It is just like you Yiniangs — if one of you were to appear more virtuous, more capable, more accomplished, and more celebrated than the official wife, and then were to appear deeply devoted to the master to the point of life and death — that would probably mean death was not far off.

Yiniang could not argue back against me and could only beat her chest and scold me for being unambitious: “What on earth has possessed you, stubbornly refusing to better yourself?”

I expressed nothing but humble demurral, explaining that I was simply skilled at observation.

In Grandfather’s generation, there were two famous concubine-born aunts. One of them not only married brilliantly and lived in splendor, but also had her husband completely devoted to her. Old Lord Gu, whose stamping of a foot could set the entire court trembling, remained utterly devoted to her for his entire life. It was said that from the day this Aunt entered the household, he refused to so much as ride a mare. The year Aunt fell gravely ill and appeared not long for this world, it was said that Old Lord Gu — a man of iron constitution shaped by decades on the battlefield — wept as though he had lost his father. Though of course, his father had died long ago.

They were both in their sixties or seventies by then. Was it truly necessary to carry on so?

Such exclusive devotion would naturally have invited criticism from the capital’s noble households. But this Aunt was universally well-regarded. From the inner household of the Duke of England’s estate, to the Weibei Marquis household, to the Zheng Family, the Bo Family, the Fu Family, the Duan Family — many great noble ladies were on close terms with her. When the majority approved, which loose-tongued woman would dare speak ill? Moreover, as events proved, this Aunt of mine brought great fortune to her husband and bore him fine sons. She produced four sons in succession, all of whom turned out remarkable — an even better success rate than Grandfather himself.

The youngest of the Gu household’s four uncles neither pursued literary studies nor military training, and refused to marry. He traveled the length and breadth of the land, and at the age of sixteen completed the Complete Geographic Survey of Rivers and Mountains, which he presented to the Emperor, shaking the entire realm. The work recorded the customs, landscapes, and magnificent scenery of all two capitals and thirteen provinces in language that was elegant, vivid, and lifelike, making readers feel as though they were present in person — for a time, copies sold like wildfire. The illustrations were rendered in colors both dreamlike and beautiful, with precise measurements. Standing before a map four or five people wide and tall, the magnificent landscape seemed to rush toward the viewer, leaving them breathless. The customs section now hangs on the inner wall of the central hall of the Qianqing Palace, while the military section is secretly stored within the Ministry of War.

Since Third Uncle had already beaten him to sea voyages eastward, Fourth Uncle chose to travel west instead, following the ancient road once tread by the Han envoy Zhang Qian. Across the yellow sands of mountain passes, past landscapes that shook the soul — the barren desert soil littered with whitened bones, where yet flowers could bloom, proud and unbowed, standing tall and unchanged for a thousand years. Even I, who am ordinarily quite unfeeling, could not hold back my tears when I read this passage.

The most recent news of Fourth Uncle was that he had apparently, at the age of forty, captivated the only daughter of a king in the far western regions, and was planning to settle there — an old bull grazing on tender grass, to become the royal consort and inherit the throne in the bargain.

Inspired by Third Uncle and Fourth Uncle’s example, every ambitious young man in the realm took pride in emulating them, heading east across the sea or west across the deserts, venturing to every corner of the world.

For the girls of the Sheng Family, this Aunt was an idol, a model, a guiding star — both concubine-born and legitimate daughters alike regretted that none had been able to follow in her legendary footsteps. And indeed, none had managed it to this day.

As the saying goes, the best strategist leaves no glorious battle to be celebrated. This Aunt’s girlhood years were both ordinary and understated. A talent for poetry, a reputation for virtue, a name for benevolence — none of these were particularly notable in her case. One only heard that she was devoted and filial, that she was on deeply affectionate terms with Great-Great-Grandmother, and that she had competed with Grandfather on several occasions over the privilege of personally caring for Great-Great-Grandmother — only to be repulsed each time by Grandfather, suffering bitter and indignant defeat. Even when she herself had become a grandmother, her heart remained undaunted. Fortunately Grandfather too remained vigorous in his old age, fending her off left and right, successfully keeping Great-Great-Grandmother in his own household until she passed away in peace.

From all accounts, this Aunt appeared to have been entirely without distinction during her girlhood years — but then, how was one supposed to learn from that example?

What opportunity does a young woman have to distinguish herself publicly? She can only apply herself to her studies. Fifth Female Cousin, the most favored among us, once spent an entire year composing a sixty-line poem in praise of the plum blossom as a birthday gift for Grandfather’s sixtieth celebration — only to receive half a sentence from Grandfather in response: “For a girl of the inner household, the essentials of self-cultivation and moral refinement must take precedence.” Fifth Female Cousin’s eyes reddened then and there.

Actually, the finest poet among us was Fourth Female Cousin. At a chrysanthemum-viewing banquet hosted by the Fuyiang Princess Imperial that year, she won considerable praise with a five-character quatrain. Upon returning home, however, she was lectured thoroughly by Grandmother and made to copy Buddhist sutras and the female conduct texts for a full month as punishment.

“The Princess made it perfectly clear she wanted her own daughter to shine — she had specially invited that bookish imperial prince to listen, so her daughter and the young man could make a match. Fourth Cousin had no business going and stealing the scene,” a female cousin who was not on good terms with Fourth Cousin declared with great satisfaction.

Grandfather had the greatest dislike for girls who composed poetry or painted for display. Grandmother had the greatest dislike for girls who made a flashy spectacle of themselves in public — owing to the other famous Aunt from our family’s history. That Aunt, dissatisfied with the match Great-Great-Grandfather had arranged for her, had actually gone out on her own to find herself a husband, conducting herself with impropriety in full public view. Though she ultimately achieved the match she wanted, to this day people still occasionally bring up the story to sharpen their tongues.

She did not end up faring well either. She gave birth in succession to five daughters, and every single one of them married down. The reason I know this so clearly is entirely because Aunt Liang had searched all over the realm for suitable sons-in-law and could not find anyone appropriate, so she thought to marry her daughters back into her maiden family. My father and an uncle, and two more uncles from Fourth Grandfather’s branch of the family, all became embroiled in the matter — the whole household came to know about it — yet every one of them declined in the end. Only this Aunt’s own full brother and sister-in-law accepted one daughter, reluctantly, and she was a concubine-born daughter at that. Though I heard the husband and wife actually have quite a fond marriage, and she has now gone with the eldest branch’s cousin uncle to do business in their ancestral home.

With the Sheng Family daughters already presenting such a colorful and lively spectacle, there was no need for me to add to the entertainment. I spent my days eating and sleeping contentedly, made only perfunctory efforts at needlework, and did not apply myself particularly to my studies — I knew that Li Bai and Li Bai were the same person, and that Li Guang and Li Guangli were two different people, and considered that sufficient.

By the time I was nine years old, Seventh Sister across the way was growing more slender and graceful by the day. Young as she was, she was already quite pretty — waist well-defined, legs nicely proportioned. I, on the other hand, kept growing rounder, and because my frame was small while the rest of me was all softness, I was a pudgy little thing, round as a little piglet.

Yiniang looked at me and wanted to weep, feeling that I had squandered her good looks on my behalf and given up entirely on myself — Yiniang only knew a handful of four-character idioms, all half-absorbed while serving Father in the study, drifting in and out of attention. Every single one of these idioms she spent on me.

I patiently turned the tables and educated her again: A young woman gets married at fifteen or sixteen, and then spends her time serving parents-in-law and pleasing younger brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, supporting her husband and raising children, managing the concubines and serving women of the inner household. Others eat while she watches; others sit while she stands. However bitter her heart, her face must smile. This goes on for decades, until she herself becomes a mother-in-law, and finally has the power to take out her frustrations on someone else’s daughter. But if her own mother-in-law has not yet died, then it is not yet finished — she must continue to endure.

A woman’s truly comfortable years amount to no more than these few years as a daughter in her parents’ home. Though I am concubine-born, I have the good fortune of Grandmother’s strict and fair management, and First Aunt’s capable household governance, so that the serving women dare not treat anyone according to their favored or disfavored status. Even the concubine-born daughters need not exhaust themselves competing for food, clothing, and daily necessities. Given all this, why should I not properly enjoy these rare and precious days?

Take Seventh Sister — she adored sesame pastries to the very depths of her soul, yet forced herself to hold back and not dare to eat them, allowing her sorrowful mouth to send its longing back into her stomach, watching as I savored each bite one at a time. Her two eyes nearly shot out flames; her face turned greenish, her nostrils flaring and contracting — she looked exactly like a hungry green frog.

I say again: what hardship, and for what purpose? Once she is married, there may be no pastries left to eat even if she wanted them.

Yiniang could not win the argument against me and said I was full of twisted reasoning. I continued as I always had. Seeing that I was beyond educating, Yiniang had no choice but to pour all her enthusiasm entirely into the great undertaking of currying favor with Father in hopes of producing a son.

In the year I turned ten, Grandfather’s old friend and associate, Duke Qiguo, finally brought his posting of more than a decade to a close, returned to the capital by imperial decree, and was installed in the Grand Secretariat as one of the six ministers. He and Grandfather had been friends since boyhood — classmates, fellow examination candidates of the same year, and colleagues as well, close as brothers.

That year during the Lantern Festival, since all of Duke Qiguo’s sons, grandsons, and daughters-in-law had not yet returned from their various posts in other regions, the old Duke came to our household to celebrate the festival together with our family. Grandfather accordingly summoned all the sons and grandchildren of the household to kowtow and pay their respects to the old Duke.

As usual, I wore my festive bright red padded jacket, bundled up like a sweet rice dumpling. Around my neck was the gold lock ornament that all the sisters wore. My hair was done up in two round, chubby little buns, simply wound with strings of red coral beads — Yiniang had not been unwilling to style my hair in elaborate coils with hairpins, but with my round little face like a doughy ball, it simply did not suit, and she had given up the idea.

Looking at Seventh Sister in her exquisite peach-pink belted long jacket embroidered with scattered gold and branch-pattern flowers, a small pearl-and-jade hairpin hanging gracefully at her temple, elegant as a beautiful bird — Yiniang looked at her, then looked at me, and was nearly moved to tears in her frustration.

Squeezed in among my brothers and sisters, I finished paying my respects to Duke Qiguo. Up at the head of the room, Grandfather and the old Duke were questioning several of my male cousins about their studies. I began to feel drowsy, and slowly, without drawing attention to myself, began edging toward an inconspicuous corner.

“That chubby little girl in the bright red jacket — come here and let me have a look at you.”

The voice was aged yet clear and resonant, like a gust of clean wind that dispersed the stale air filling the room. Every gaze in the hall turned as one toward me. I gave a sudden start and woke up immediately, and was pushed and jostled forward to the front.

I timidly raised my head and glanced first at Grandfather — Grandfather’s expression was complex; he knit his brows and looked at his old friend beside him with a thoughtful air. But old Duke Qiguo was entirely warm and kind. Patting my chubby little pig-trotter hands, he asked me one question after another — how old was I, what books was I reading, what did I like to eat. When he learned that I was the sixth among the household’s daughters, the old Duke was particularly pleased, saying repeatedly: “Wonderful, wonderful — six, six, the great prosperity of the number six. Splendid!”

Splendid what? There were so many girls in the family that proper names had never been formally bestowed, and we were simply addressed by our birth order: “Fifth Girl, Seventh Girl,” and so on. My good-natured Second Female Cousin, who was rarely ill-tempered, liked to tease me with the nickname “Little Six.”

I am typically quite bold within my own household, but outside of those occasions when I am educating Yiniang, I am actually not very good at conversation. The old Duke asked one question and I answered one question — dull and wooden. Yet the old Duke was extraordinarily patient with me, smiling as he listened to me stammer out my foolish words. Beside us, Fifth Female Cousin’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets — after all, was she not clearly the most quick-witted, most eloquent, most charming girl in the entire household?

Just before taking his leave, the old Duke pulled out a palm-sized piece of white jade tablet to give me. The jade piece was translucent throughout, pure and warm to the touch. Though I was no judge of such things, I could tell from the sharp intake of breath from the aunts-by-marriage beside me that it must be worth a considerable sum.

After that day, Female Cousin spoke several cutting words to me — things like “ugly people always seek to draw attention,” and “this fat and foolish creature is a complete disgrace to the Sheng Family name.” Even Fourth Female Cousin, who was normally amicable toward me, stopped acknowledging me. As for Fifth Female Cousin, she deliberately cultivated a close friendship with Seventh Sister and took every opportunity to mock me through veiled jabs. My heart was deeply wounded. I had clearly done nothing wrong — to be precise, I had done absolutely nothing at all — yet I was subjected to mistreatment.

Yiniang was very pleased, saying repeatedly that old Duke Qiguo was a man of discerning eyes who recognized a true gem. Half a day earlier she had thought I was a “pig,” but now I had become a “gem.” How wonderful are power and wealth — they can change everything.

Yiniang asked me what the old Duke looked like. I could not quite answer. At the time I had been too frightened — afraid of committing some impropriety, of showing poor manners, of being reprimanded. Thinking back afterward, however — old Duke Qiguo was about the same age as Grandfather, also fair-faced with a long white beard, lean and spare with an air of dignified authority.

Yet not entirely the same. Grandfather had always been severe and unsmiling, his gaze stern and piercing. But the old Duke had something more — a quality of ease and natural elegance. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes would curve gently upward, like a flowing breeze along a riverbank, brushing against the face, cool and refreshing.

I had never known before that an old man could be so beautiful.

Second Uncle of the Gu household was also very handsome. But his temperament was entirely like Grandfather’s — either he said nothing at all, or when he did open his mouth it was never anything pleasant. Truly a waste of fine looks. As the years passed, his actions became ever more formidable. Many officials of four ranks and above went weak at the knees in his presence, and no one dared take notice of his appearance anymore.

Later I heard from Second Female Cousin, who had occasionally returned to her parents’ home, that old Duke Qiguo had been the most beautiful man in all of the capital in his day, and to this day no one had surpassed him. The tone with which she said this was quite wistful, as though she regretted having been born several decades too late to witness firsthand the manner of this peerless beauty in his prime.

The girls gathered in the room broke into light laughter, which greatly displeased Second Female Cousin’s husband. He strode in through the folding screen, caught his wife, and hauled her home that very night.

After that, since both families served in the capital, old Duke Qiguo would occasionally come to our household to play chess and discuss poetry with Grandfather. Every time he came, he would insist on seeing me; and every time he saw me, he would bring a gift — a writing brush with a handle of red rhinoceros horn from Lingnan, South Sea pearls the size of a thumb, a purple cloud inkstone crafted by Fan Daocheng, large Eastern pearls from the snow-capped mountains beyond the frontier. Even my own father rarely laid eyes on such fine things.

Yiniang’s eyes glazed over with desire. Qiu Yiniang across the way and her daughter turned green with envy. The most favored Li Yiniang narrowed her eyes.

“They say the Qi Family’s wealth defies description — it turns out to be entirely true,” Father remarked. “The old Duke has no daughter and no granddaughter. He must be treating Sixth Girl as a granddaughter.”

A tree that stands tallest in the forest will be beaten down by the wind.

Every time I skipped along happily, I would stumble and fall hard. When Female Cousin came to help me up, she would give my arm a vicious pinch. If I cried out in pain, she would affect great surprise and say, “Oh my, did you take such a bad fall?”

Every time I walked in peace along the pond’s edge, I would somehow “carelessly” fall in. Fortunately the water was not deep; I only got half my skirt and jacket soaking wet, plus caught a chill and was bedridden for six or seven days. Seventh Sister leaned in her doorway across the way, smiling prettily.

Every time I sat quietly in the pavilion to enjoy the cool air, a familiar slingshot would emerge from the shrubbery. The half-wet mud pellets stung quite a bit when they hit. Ninth Male Cousin and Fifth Female Cousin were full siblings and had always been close.

In the study, Fourth Female Cousin’s seat was right beside mine. Several times I saw Fifth Female Cousin exchange meaningful glances with her. Fourth Female Cousin would bite her lip, look at Fifth Female Cousin, then look at me. The hand holding the ink tray would rise, then set back down. She let out a quiet sigh, lowered her head, and occupied herself quietly with matching the parallel verses in her newly composed poem.

Second Uncle was deeply devoted to scholarship, and his official rank was lower than First Uncle’s. I was very grateful to Fourth Female Cousin.

I secretly wrapped up that purple cloud inkstone and sent it over to her. The next day, the little package came back unopened exactly as it was — and wrapped up together with it was a small vial of ointment for bruises.

A very long time afterward, Fourth Female Cousin was betrothed to an imperial prince as his side consort. A few more years passed, and when that prince’s sickly official consort died, he elevated Fourth Female Cousin — who had by then borne him quite a number of children — to the position of official consort.

How wonderful.

Having tended to my bruises, I put away the treasures the old Duke had sent one by one, locked them away with a great padlock, and said to Yiniang with great seriousness: “If I marry poorly in the future and cannot provide for Yiniang, take these things to exchange for silver and support yourself in your old age.”

Yiniang’s eyes reddened, and she held me and wept for a long time.

No one likes to swallow humiliation. But when humiliation must be swallowed, it must be. What would be gained by exposing the matter? Fifth Female Cousin was legitimate-born, with full brothers to speak for her. Her father was well-regarded by Grandfather. Quarrels and disputes among sisters can be treated as trivial or serious matters — it was better not to invite trouble upon myself.

Only once — the pond water was clear enough to serve as a mirror, and in it I saw a great bruise blooming across my face where the mud pellet had struck. I pressed my hands over my face and hid in the artificial rockery, crouching there and crying with soft, heaving sobs for a long while. Great round teardrops fell into the soil, forming a small damp patch. Little Ninth had done it deliberately. His slingshot had always been uncannily accurate.

What to do, what to do — there was no way to conceal this now. I could not let Yiniang see, for Yiniang would go to Father to pour out her grievances, but Father would not dare argue with Uncle. Great-Great-Grandmother had been confused and out of her senses these past six months. There was no one who would stand up for Yiniang and me. Even if Fifth Female Cousin and Ninth Male Cousin were punished, Yiniang and I would gain nothing from it.

I endured the pain and rubbed my face furiously, trying to rub the bruise away, but my stinging eyes refused to obey — with all the grievance inside me, all I could do was cry without stopping, cry without stopping… In the end I could think of only one simple-minded scheme: I deliberately tripped over the rocks again, scraping my forehead open, and so managed to explain it away to Yiniang.

“You careless child, with your face all cut up like this, how will you ever marry?” Yiniang’s shriek was as vigorous and full-throated as ever.

But evil deeds carry their own punishment. Before many more days had passed, Grandfather apparently decided that Ninth Male Cousin’s constant mischief and unruliness was no way to live, and resolved to send him to the Songshan Academy to be educated under a trusted friend. Aunt-by-Marriage watched her most beloved youngest child depart, weeping until her eyes were swollen red, yet not daring to say a single word more.

Fifth Female Cousin was probably grief-stricken, for after her younger brother’s departure she fell gravely ill and could not even attend the schoolroom. Grandmother took pity on her and moved her into her own quarters to personally oversee her recovery. Only after nearly a full year did Fifth Female Cousin recover and emerge.

After her long illness, Fifth Female Cousin never bullied me again. No matter how Seventh Sister tried to ingratiate herself with her or stir up trouble, she met only cold indifference.

Not long after, Great-Great-Grandmother passed away and Grandfather began his mourning period, during which his exchanges with old Duke Qiguo became even more frequent. Nine months later I turned ten years old, my father’s lesser mourning period came to an end, and a betrothal proposal arrived suddenly from the Qi household. The old Duke wished to betroth his second grandson to me as his future wife.

Grandfather accepted with perfect calm.

But the rest of the household was not at all calm.

The matter fell like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, stunning all those who heard it — save for Grandfather and Grandmother. Everyone stared at me with expressions of astonishment.

In terms of family standing, though old Duke Qiguo was not as dominant in the court as Grandfather, the difference was not tremendous, and the Qi Family had a hereditary title that would pass generation to generation, which on balance gave them at least as strong a position, if not stronger.

In terms of family wealth, old Duke Qiguo’s mother, Princess Pingning, had given her son nearly half of the Xiangyang Marquis household’s entire fortune. The old Duke’s father had overseen the salt administration for more than a decade. The old Duke himself had served as an external posting official for over a decade as well — and that was without even counting the accumulated wealth of the Qiguo estate over several generations.

The Sheng Family was also considered wealthy, but could not compare in any way. And furthermore, the Sheng Family had an abundance of heirs, while the old Duke had in total only two sons and a certain number of grandsons — no matter how it was divided, there would always be more than enough.

In terms of the prospective bridegroom himself, he was sixteen years of age, already holding a xiucai examination degree. His father was the old Duke’s second son, currently serving as a Senior Third Grade official. As for my father…

There was no need to compare further. A young man of such distinguished pedigree from such a noble household — only First Uncle’s legitimate daughter, Fifth Female Cousin, or Second Uncle’s legitimate daughter, Fourth Female Cousin, could be considered a remotely suitable match. Even First Uncle’s concubine-born daughter was a better prospect than I.

Amidst the dazed bewilderment of the entire Sheng household, the betrothal ceremony, personally overseen by Grandmother and First Aunt-by-Marriage, proceeded in orderly and unhurried preparation.

What followed were days of altogether peculiar experience.

What the various female cousins thought of me inwardly I could not say, but on the surface they remained as gracious and courteous as before. The aunts-by-marriage continued in a state of astonishment, utterly unable to reason it through. Grandfather and Grandmother wore expressions of unfathomable depth, and no one dared to ask. Everyone maintained a surface appearance of joyful celebration and came together to offer congratulations to my official mother — fortunately Eighth Sister had been betrothed early, otherwise I truly would not have dared to look at official mother’s face.

That was the response of people with sense. The responses of those without sense were considerably more spectacular. The way Seventh Sister looked at me suggested she wished she could devour me whole. Had her gaze been capable of transforming into blades, I would already have been riddled with a thousand wounds.

One month before my formal betrothal ceremony, the decade-and-more-long war between my Yiniang and Qiu Yiniang finally reached its conclusion. Because of my betrothal announcement some time earlier, my Yiniang had been in an absolute daze, so much so that even her work of currying favor with Father had not been carried out with full diligence, allowing Qiu Yiniang to gain the decisive advantage and produce a son first.

Father, a late-blooming old tree bearing unexpected fruit, was so delighted with his new little son that he could not contain himself. Qiu Yiniang seized upon Father’s happiness to put forward a fantastical and presumptuous suggestion: for the sake of this youngest child’s future security, his older sister must also be matched into a good family. So then — since old Duke Qiguo did not object to Sixth Girl’s status as a concubine-born daughter, he would naturally not object to Seventh Girl’s status either. Why not speak to Grandfather and transfer this match to Seventh Girl instead?

One must say — Qiu Yiniang and my Yiniang were truly equals in ability. No wonder they had been locked in combat for more than a decade.

Father, giddy with joy, actually went off laughing to raise the matter with Grandfather. Joy turned to sorrow on the spot.

Without Great-Great-Grandmother to intercede anymore, Grandfather took extremely satisfying revenge by giving Father a thorough beating with the family discipline rod. Father was bedridden for a full half-month and could not get down from his kang. Even at my betrothal ceremony, it was First Uncle who had to support him out to make a brief appearance, just enough to fulfill the formality and call it done.

“Did you think old Duke Qiguo sees something worthy in you, that he would be willing to take your daughter as his grandson’s wife? Take a good look at yourself. I am ashamed on your behalf until I could die of mortification!”

These were the words Grandfather shouted as he was beating Father — but they were also meant for the ears of the six uncles and aunts-by-marriage.

This marriage arrangement was peculiar in every way, and all the aunts-by-marriage were sensible and perceptive people who would not act recklessly. Only my unfortunate father and the even more unfortunate Qiu Yiniang could have been so foolish.

After Great-Great-Grandmother’s passing, Grandfather entered mourning at home. In his leisure, he had long been planning to discipline Father. Yet Father had not the slightest awareness of this and actually walked right into it himself — was that not asking to be beaten?

The ordeal Grandfather had originally prepared for Father was no more than an assignment as a low-ranking clerk in some remote and impoverished place, to knock the spoiled young master’s habits out of him. The aim was not for Father to achieve great renown, merely that he not ruin the family. But after this incident, Grandfather discovered that Father’s foolishness far exceeded what he had anticipated. And so the treatment was elevated: as soon as Father’s injuries were healed, he was to be sent to a small town in the northwestern desert to serve as an unofficial teacher.

Father’s legs buckled immediately. Weeping and wailing, he was escorted onto the cart. Just before departure, official mother — in excellent spirits — summoned all of Father’s women together and inquired: “The master will be away for a long time and cannot be left without someone to attend him. Are there any among you who volunteer to accompany him?”

At these words, all the women fell silent for half a moment, then as one took a step backward — except for Li Yiniang, Father’s most favored concubine, who did not know who had given her a push from behind. Unable to turn around in time, she found herself standing isolated and prominent among the crowd.

Official mother clapped her hands and smiled: “Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. I knew all along the master had not shown you favor in vain. Come, someone — pack up Li Yiniang’s luggage at once. Have Tenth Young Master brought to my quarters. Be careful with the child — don’t frighten him.”

Li Yiniang collapsed to the floor in a heap, her face a picture of shock and despair.

A few days after Father’s departure, Qiu Yiniang disappeared without a sound or a trace — Grandfather despised above all things a concubine who meddled in the marriage arrangements of sons and daughters. Some said she had been sold away. Some said she had been drowned in the pond. Her newborn Twelfth Young Master was also taken under official mother’s care. From that point on, all of Father’s one legitimate and two concubine-born sons were entirely in official mother’s hands.

Yiniang trembled for half a day, then said to me: “She truly is not a woman to be trifled with.”

“Do you still want to try for a son?” I asked.

Yiniang sighed: “Forget it. Take a step back and the sea and sky grow wide.”

Official mother was not a bad person, though. By the time Seventh Sister was nearly twenty, official mother did in fact arrange potential matches for her: a promising but impoverished scholar, a widowed landed gentleman of good family, and a quite wealthy cloth merchant from Jiangnan.

As the story goes, in the end Seventh Sister rolled dice to decide on the Jiangnan cloth merchant.

The year after my coming-of-age ceremony, I underwent a complete transformation — I shot up in height and every bit of roundness vanished from my figure, becoming a delicately pretty and charming young woman. Yiniang heaved a great sigh of relief. A few months later, Grandfather was reinstated to his position. The Qi and Sheng families quietly and simply held the wedding.

When the bright red bridal veil was lifted, I saw my new husband for the first time: a clear-featured, grave young man. After we drank the wedding wine together, he sat motionless on the edge of the bed. I thought — he was probably contemptuous of me as unworthy of him.

Watching the dragon-and-phoenix candles weep drops of wax like blood, I felt the overwhelming urge to cry myself. This marriage had not been something I sought. I had long since prepared myself to become either the wife of a moderately successful scholar or the mistress of a wealthy household. Since he did not like me, why had he gone along so obediently with the marriage?

I said softly: “…You… you don’t like me, do you?”

My husband stiffly twisted his neck around. Out of ingrained habit, he gave a nod. I instantly dissolved into floods of tears. He immediately panicked, frantically shaking his head and then nodding again: “No, no, no — what I meant was I do like you, I don’t mean that I don’t like you…”

I broke into laughter through my tears.

Afterward, my husband told me that before the wedding, the old Duke had issued a stern warning to his grandson that he must treat me well — or else face consequences. My husband had been sitting on the edge of the bed in a state of anxious tension, racking his brains over how to satisfy the old Duke’s standards.

That night, he put in a great deal of effort to treat me “well.”

My husband was a man of dignified and steady temperament. He did not know how to create the pleasures of the inner chamber, nor did he understand how to make a young woman happy. I, on the other hand, particularly enjoyed being playfully mischievous and teasing him. The two of us complemented each other beautifully, and as time passed, he grew increasingly fond of appearing severe and stern in public, while relaxing into easy playfulness with me behind closed doors.

Father-in-law perhaps was not entirely satisfied with this marriage arrangement either, but he was able to treat me with proper courtesy. My husband’s grandmother had passed away long ago. The only difficulty was my mother-in-law, who clearly did not like me. But with only one son and one daughter-in-law in the household, I was the only daughter-in-law she had to be pleased or displeased with. And besides standing on formal ceremony, she had no other means of making things difficult for me.

After entering the Qi household, I came to learn that the old Duke had established a peculiar family rule: the mother-in-law was forbidden from interfering in her daughter-in-law’s affairs. In practical terms, this meant she was not permitted to place people in her son and daughter-in-law’s quarters; taking on concubines and the ceremonies involved were the private matter of the young husband and wife themselves.

In the past, the First Daughter-in-Law — the wife of First Uncle of the Qi household — had tried to put her new daughter-in-law in her place upon the girl’s arrival, and old Duke Qiguo had made her look utterly humiliated in front of the entire household. My own mother-in-law’s family background was even less distinguished than that First Aunt-in-Law’s, and she dared even less to overstep her bounds.

Under this remarkable family rule, I successfully gave birth to our eldest son, second son, eldest daughter, and third son.

As sons and grandchildren gathered around their knees and the household grew livelier day by day, even my mother-in-law, however much she disliked me, could only gradually soften. With one grandchild cradled on each side, one seated in her lap, and one hanging around her neck, she could no longer maintain a cold face toward me.

This was especially true given how little fortune the first branch of the family had in producing heirs. The number of children I alone had borne surpassed what both First Aunt-in-Law and my husband’s younger sibling’s wife had produced together. When mother-in-law stood before First Aunt-in-Law, she held her head all the higher; her face glowed with health and satisfaction every day.

That year, mother-in-law came down with a wind-cold ailment and was unable to rise from her bed for a long time. I moved in to sleep right beside her kang, attending to her medicine and soup day and night, bathing her, changing her clothing, feeding her, combing her hair, and even assisting her when she needed to relieve herself — this continued for a full two months, until mother-in-law finally recovered. By then I had lost a full size in weight. Fortunately I had been of sturdy constitution since childhood and did not collapse from exhaustion.

Even a heart of stone, kept warm for long enough, will eventually grow heated. Mother-in-law finally set aside her cold manner, took my hands, and said: “You are a good child. In the past… it was I who wronged you. I always felt — felt you were not worthy of my son…”

Her eyes reddening, she continued: “Looking back now, it was I who was rash and shortsighted. In the end, the old Duke has true discernment — he chose well in you as a granddaughter-in-law.”

Once she had let down her defenses, mother-in-law truly and sincerely began to treat me with warmth, just as though I were her own daughter — even my husband, when he saw it, pretended to be jealous.

I heard that the old Duke had personally chosen both of his sons’ daughters-in-law. Thinking about it, of course he had — a man as astute and formidable as the old Duke would never have chosen a daughter-in-law who was truly malicious and wicked at heart.

“Father-in-law’s generation was one of considerable hardship, all things considered,” said mother-in-law with a sigh, pulling me into conversation.

Beautiful men bring misfortune to their wives — this saying proved itself upon the old Duke to the fullest degree imaginable.

Over the course of his life, the old Duke had taken three wives in total. The first was County Princess Jiacheng, who died not long after their marriage in what was called the “Shengchen Rebellion.” Her manner of death, by all accounts, was not a clean or honorable one. The second was the legitimate daughter of a great family from southern Jin — the Shen Family, which had produced many high officials over generations. She had even borne him a pair of twins, one son and one daughter. But that year, while accompanying the old Duke to his posting in southern Min, a pestilence broke out, and mother and children all perished together. The third was the legitimate granddaughter of Princess Imperial Qingning. Not long after the wedding, husband and wife took over the inherited title and estate of the Qiguo Dukedom. This new Lady of the house gave birth to two sons before dying, not yet thirty years of age.

The following year, Princess Pingning and her husband also passed away. Thereafter, the old Duke declined to take another wife. He kept two elderly concubines to attend to his daily needs, and personally raised his two sons to adulthood.

“And so both his eldest son and my husband both held him in deep reverence and were exceedingly filial — they never dared to go against him in the slightest. Indeed, the old Duke has had a truly difficult life — tending to the inner household and the outer, playing both father and mother at once.” Mother-in-law lamented.

“Actually, when I was still in my parents’ home, I once heard people say that when father-in-law traveled to take up his posting in southern Min that year, everyone urged the second Lady Shen not to accompany him. Setting aside the miasma and damp heat of that region, which would not agree with someone accustomed to the northern climate, the two children were still very young as well… Alas, but as it happened, that Lady Shen was absolutely determined to go with him, refusing to be separated from him for even a single moment. In the end it came to such a terrible outcome, and yet the Shen Family had nothing to blame him for…”

“Ah — perhaps it was because she and Grandfather-in-law were deeply and passionately devoted to each other,” I offered. I had no particular interest in gossip myself, but mother-in-law was clearly very interested, so I met her enthusiasm with enthusiasm.

Mother-in-law shook her head with a mysterious air: “I think not necessarily.”

My heart was full of gratitude toward the old Duke. Had it not been for his kindness and generous intention, how could I have had such happiness today? I was resolved to give him the wholehearted filial devotion he deserved — but I found I did not know where to begin.

The old Duke’s daily life was simple and unhurried. He was fond of fishing by the pond, sitting there for half a day at a time, whether or not he ever caught anything being of no concern to him at all. In his leisure, when he was not reading, he would listen to my little daughter recite her books aloud.

He had her read the “Minor Odes” from the Classic of Poetry, read The Peach Blossom Spring, and read the travel journals written by Fourth Uncle of our Gu household. The small girl sat cross-legged on the kang, swaying her head back and forth, her childlike voice bright and clear, ringing out through the sunlit and elegant study.

The old man sat at a distance by the window, leaning his head on one hand, looking across at her with a faint and gentle smile. His manner was warm and kind, yet within his eyes was a trace of something — a very faint, very light melancholy, light as a thin gauze drifting through the mist, both far away and very near.

He seemed always to wear this expression — even-tempered and gentle, treating all people like the welcoming warmth of spring. Even Grandfather had several political adversaries, yet old Duke Qiguo seemed to be universally admired by everyone.

Only once did I see his expression change.

That year, the Qi household’s younger son — the one who most resembled the old Duke in appearance — had come of age for marriage, and a complication arose.

First Aunt-in-Law had arranged a match for this younger son with a young woman from the Han Family. The younger son did not like her. He was enamored of a young woman from the Qiu Family, but the Qiu Family was of unremarkable social standing and could offer him not the slightest advantage.

The matter was brought before the old Duke. “Let him decide for himself,” the old man said, with only these few simple words, spoken lightly and without elaboration.