Summer was almost over. Huajie’s first named patient, Old Mrs. Wen, was visibly recovering well. Though Huajie was delighted, she was also worrying about something else. Fu Xiaoniangzi’s face had gradually regained some color, and she had taken over the duties Du Dajie had previously handled at the nunnery. The wound on her head had scabbed over, and with the weather so hot, it was no longer good to keep it covered, so she simply left it open to air. Her son remained weak, but he was staying awake a little longer each day.

Whenever Huajie saw her, she thought of how she had once told Zhù Ying about her situation, and she could not help wondering whether Fu Xiaoniangzi’s husband’s death had anything to do with Zhù Ying.

Huajie hesitated for two days, and finally unable to put her mind at ease, she tried asking Zhù Ying: “You didn’t bring harm to them by chance, did you? Isn’t this something that would cost you merit?” She thought that if there truly was some price to pay, she might as well let it fall on her instead — she would try to save more people to make up for it.

Zhù Ying was making silk flowers at the time. Hearing this, she could not help laughing: “What? What? Bringing harm? I keep telling you not to believe in all that supernatural nonsense. Where are there any ghosts or gods in this world? The way I see it, it was all just coincidence that led to such an outcome.”

Huajie studied her carefully. Zhù Ying looked back. Huajie could not read anything from Zhù Ying’s expression, and said, “If you say so, then so be it.” Only then did she gradually brighten up.

The two of them were chatting and laughing when Zhang Xiangu was drawn over as well. Zhang Xiangu had not been doing much housework lately, as Du Dajie had taken over most of it, leaving her with more time on her hands. She asked Zhù Ying: “Tomorrow I’ve made arrangements with Old Mrs. Wen to visit the nunnery together — her eldest son is going with her. Why don’t you come along?”

Zhù Ying thought about it. Accompanying her mother to offer incense was something many people ought to do, and tomorrow was her day off — the timing was just right. So she said, “All right.”

The whole family except for Zhù Da went to Cihui Nunnery. Zhù Da still went off to visit Old Xu, saying: “He’s really not doing well this time — I have to go check on him.”

Zhù Ying said: “Then hire a carriage and ride there. It’s still hot out — don’t get heatstroke.”

Zhù Da happily agreed, adding that there was no need to give him money since he had his own money to hire the carriage. Zhang Xiangu rolled her eyes behind his back but did not publicly embarrass him this time — Zhang Xiangu caught sight of Du Dajie sweeping the courtyard. Ever since there had been a servant in the house, Zhang Xiangu had become a little more restrained in her speech, always feeling that she ought to leave some face for the people in the household. She often forgot, but today she remembered when she saw Du Dajie.

Out in the courtyard, Du Dajie had no idea that she served as a kind of restraining force on Zhang Xiangu. She finished sweeping the courtyard, then checked whether the water jars were full, made sure the gauze covers on the dish cupboard were properly in place, and looked to see if any mice had been caught in the traps. Finally she returned to her own room, took out a wicker sewing basket, pulled up a stool, and sat near the front gate to do her needlework. The Zhù family had given her four seasonal outfits, one per season. The last time it came up that she had no change of clothes, Zhù Ying had offered to add an extra set for her, but she declined, instead asking for half a bolt of leftover cloth from Zhang Xiangu, which she intended to make into a garment herself. Huajie had helped cut it for her, and she was now sewing it on her own, planning to use the remaining scraps to make two pairs of cloth shoes.

As she sewed, she reflected that this household was not bad, as far as households went — they gave clothing and shoes, and the food was much the same as the family ate themselves. The Zhù family was not a grand household and had no particular strict rules. Meals were taken at one big table together, with only Zhù Ying occasionally having an extra meal in her own room. Du Dajie dared not sit at the main table, nor did she want to — for one thing, she was not part of the family; for another, eating on her own felt more comfortable. She would eat either in the kitchen or in her own room. First she would serve the main table its fill, then help herself to the leftovers, and even so she got to eat a little meat every day.

And no one beat her, she thought.

Having finished one sleeve, she made up her mind. That evening, she found Huajie and Zhù Ying together reading in the west wing, tucked the deed under her arm, and went over to the west wing, where she knelt on the spot.

Zhù Ying was sitting at the writing desk in the north room of the west wing, with Huajie seated to the side. Seeing her kneel, both of them were startled: “What’s the matter?”

Du Dajie took out the deed without saying a word. Zhù Ying and Huajie exchanged a glance. Huajie went over to help her up: “If there’s something to say, stand up and say it. This — didn’t I tell you to keep it safe? You haven’t burned it yet?”

Du Dajie placed the deed on the table and said: “Keeping it does me no good.”

Zhù Ying said: “If it’s no good, then burn it. Your uncle wouldn’t dare come here.”

Du Dajie, seeing that she would not take it back, grew anxious. Whether her uncle dared come or not depended entirely on the master of this household’s intentions. She owed such a great debt of gratitude — was she just supposed to accept her monthly wages and act as if nothing had happened? The more she thought about it, the more it seemed wrong. The neighbors said behind closed doors: Little Magistrate Zhù had a soft heart, but a soft-hearted person who steels themselves is truly the most formidable kind.

Du Dajie knelt again: “Please — please take it. You…” She was not articulate, and though she had the right feeling inside, having never been educated or seen much of the world, she could never quite turn that feeling into words.

Huajie said: “Zhù Ying.”

Zhù Ying said: “Dajie, why don’t you take it.” Then she used her eyes to signal Huajie to go comfort Du Dajie. Looking at Du Dajie’s state, she understood. If life could be made to work, who would choose to be a servant? For her own reasons, Zhù Ying had not even set out to hire a servant at the start — she had intended to employ her.

Huajie could not get any reading done that evening. She took Du Dajie with her to the east wing, and the two of them spoke quietly for a while. Du Dajie was sincere and honest, and of course Huajie was a good person — the nun who had sheltered her even longer would certainly be the one to receive the deed. Huajie had no choice but to accept it, and told her: “The terms agreed upon when you were hired remain unchanged.”

Du Dajie felt somewhat reassured and said: “All right.”

Knowing this might not sit well with her, Huajie chatted with her a bit longer, and arranged for Du Dajie to accompany her to Cihui Nunnery the next day. Only then did Du Dajie manage a faint smile.

……——

The next morning, the household rose early. Zhù Da went out to buy breakfast. Du Dajie lit the stove, boiled water, cooked porridge, and set a large pot of mung bean soup to simmer, planning to leave it to cool for them to drink when they returned.

After breakfast, everyone changed into their going-out clothes. Zhù Ying was the most efficient of all — she changed into a light summer silk outfit and a pair of lightweight silk shoes, with her customary folding fan at her waist. She came out carrying a long box and went first to the main room: “Come, pick a few to wear.”

Zhang Xiangu was looking this way and that in the mirror. Du Dajie was not a skilled hair-dresser, so Zhang Xiangu was still doing her own hair. At the sight of the box, she found inside beautiful sprigs of silk flowers shaped like seasonal blooms, in all sorts of colors. She said: “Goodness, where did these come from? You’re spending money frivolously again! I have enough to wear already! Look at these hairpins of mine — some are gold, some silver, some set with pearls, some with pendants, and now you’ve gone and bought flowers! How much did these cost? You ought to be saving your money! Oh my, oh my, look at all these different styles!”

Zhù Da was straightening his clothes nearby. Hearing this, he said: “Look at you! The child gave them to you, they’re yours to wear! Besides, she knows what she’s doing!” But he also spoke to Zhù Ying: “Ying, you too — don’t be so free with money. You need to save something for yourself; there’ll be no shortage of occasions to spend it in the future.”

Zhang Xiangu said: “And there you are telling her off! Ying, I’m already old — two flowers are plenty for me. Today Old Mrs. Wen is going too, so I’ll wear them then. I won’t wear these around the neighbors. You should take them to Huajie — she’s young, and at her age one ought to dress nicely. Don’t always be so plain. And you don’t need to bring me things all the time — goodness, how much does all this cost…” Inside, she was muttering to herself: if only you could dress yourself up the same way, how wonderful that would be. Here you are, impressive in your official role every day, and I feel like a thief the whole time.

Zhù Ying said: “It didn’t cost much. I made them myself.”

Zhang Xiangu steadied her chin: “What?”

Zhù Ying saw her pick out two, then lifted the box and headed out: “I’ll bring some to Dajie.”

Huajie was just finishing up her hair on the other side. Looking at the box, she also said: “Why did you buy these? We can dress ourselves — you’re already busy enough outside without adding this to your worries. The way I see it, you shouldn’t wear yourself out too much either. A bow must be both strung and unstrung, isn’t that right? Don’t keep brooding over everything and exhaust yourself.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “This is the unstrung part. I made them.”

Huajie perked up: “Oh! They’re really beautifully made! I wasn’t going to wear any, but now I have to.” She chose a paired bloom of pale yellow and soft pink and tucked it at her temple, then checked her reflection in the mirror. Zhù Ying watched the silk flower complement Huajie’s rosy complexion and said: “Beautiful.”

Huajie gave her a reproachful look: “Oh, come on. It’s the flowers that are beautiful.”

“Mm.”

By the time they arrived at Cihui Nunnery, the Wen family mother and son had just arrived as well. The two families exchanged greetings. Wen Yue and Zhù Ying chatted about palace gossip — how the Imperial Guards had caught a young eunuch who had been secretly selling palace objects. Nearby, the Wen women and their maidservant all let out exclamations. The two of them looked over, only to see the women exchanging compliments, with Young Mistress Wen praising the silk flowers in Huajie’s hair. Zhang Xiangu, pleased with herself for a moment, said they were made by Zhù Ying.

Wen Yue said: “Little Zhù, you have this talent too?”

Zhù Ying said: “Not at all — in a case I handled recently, among the evidence was a silk flower. I liked the look of it. I made this on a whim. Palace-style silk flowers go for three hundred cash each; mine are probably only worth thirty.”

Wen Yue laughed: “What about that servant of yours? How’s that working out?”

“Just the one female servant for now. For male servants to follow me out, I need to be more careful about choosing them. I’m a complicated person.”

Wen Yue said: “Other matters aside, anyone attending closely to you must be chosen with care. The way you treat a servant is the way you raise a household manager in the end. Sigh — everyone thinks that having people to wait on you means you can relax, but it’s not like that. Raising servants is like practicing martial arts — wherever you put in your effort is where you develop your skill.”

Zhù Ying said: “You’re right.”

On the other side, the women paid their respects to Buddha and strolled around, and happened to run into Fu Xiaoniangzi. Fu Xiaoniangzi looked somewhat lighter than before, though she still carried her worries. She had no more fear of being dragged back by her husband here. But her son’s condition still showed no signs of improvement, and so she remained troubled. With a son, she still had something to hold onto; without a son, her fate would no longer be hers to decide.

Everyone heard this and sighed. They sighed, too, over the cost of caring for her son — the nunnery was compassionate, but it could not pour money into a bottomless pit.

Huajie said: “There must be some proper livelihood.” Without capital from her family, an ordinary woman had little to work with beyond marriage or taking in needlework and laundry — not much to bring in money. Huajie thought of advising Fu Xiaoniangzi to study medicine — perhaps pediatrics, which would let her both care for her son and have a skill to her name. Or gynecology, like herself — that was not a bad path, either.

Old Mrs. Wen and Young Mistress Wen sympathized with Fu Xiaoniangzi’s situation and said: “What Huajie says makes a great deal of sense — you ought to try.” From their perspective, Huajie was the wife of a government official, and practicing medicine was a personal pursuit and a form of doing good deeds, so they did not regard it as a profession, and considered Huajie’s willingness to treat them a personal favor. If Fu Xiaoniangzi could learn medicine and practice it for a living, the world would have one more doctor, which would be a good thing. And Fu Xiaoniangzi could use it to support herself and her son.

Old Mrs. Wen said: “You still have your son, so you must nurture him and raise him well. You can’t just put your head down and suffer in silence! You have to look at what’s most worthwhile!”

Fu Xiaoniangzi said: “You’re absolutely right, Madam.” She had in fact been thinking about her livelihood. Starting a small business was impossible without capital. Working as a domestic servant meant losing all control of her own life — and caring for her son would become impossible. She thought it might be best to stay on here for now, helping with odd jobs in exchange for room and board, so she could tend to her son.

Old Mrs. Wen called to Wen Yue: “Go fetch two strings of cash for the abbess — to cover this young woman’s room and board for a month, and let her try.”

Fu Xiaoniangzi quickly expressed her gratitude.

Having done this good deed, everyone was in good spirits. After a simple vegetarian meal at the nunnery, they each returned home.

……

Zhù Ying saw Zhang Xiangu and Huajie home. Zhù Da had not yet returned, and Zhang Xiangu wanted to take an afternoon nap: “It’s hot — you should both rest a while too.”

Zhù Ying and Huajie came out of the main room, let down the bamboo blinds for Zhang Xiangu, and Zhù Ying said to Huajie: “I’m going out for a walk.”

Huajie said: “All right, be careful. It’s quite hot out — walk in the shade.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Will do.”

She put on her bamboo hat — no longer the crude thing she’d worn when playing the role of a peddler, but now finely woven and edged with fine cloth. She first stopped by Old Ma’s to drink a bowl of tea, then wandered around the gambling houses a couple of times without placing any bets, only watching for a while before heading out. Finally she made her way to Flower Street.

Flower Street in the afternoon was languid, with few customers. The house at Fifth Sister’s had changed hands — a smiling woman around thirty who seemed to be in charge. Zhù Ying did not go in. She looked over at Ninth Sister’s house — still the same as before, looking even quieter and cooler. She did not go in there either.

She drifted to the back alley and stood on the bridge, wavering between visiting Old Mu first or going to the well, when she suddenly heard a familiar voice.

“We’re here.”

Zhù Ying turned and saw Huajie and Du Dajie — Du Dajie was carrying a small medicine box. The medicine chest given as a gift by Old Mrs. Wen was somewhat large and heavy, and Huajie only had Du Dajie carry it on her back when making calls on the wives of officials. This time it was just a small medicine box — light and convenient.

The three of them had run into each other here quite by chance!

Zhù Ying and Huajie looked at each other, then both asked at the same time: “What are you doing here?”

Du Dajie silently held the medicine box as high as she could, as if to indicate that her mistress was doing nothing improper. Zhù Ying said to Huajie: “Go tend to your business first.”

Huajie said: “Bringing medicine to them — they’re all suffering souls. There’s only so much I can do to help.” If it were possible, she would gladly see this whole stretch of Flower Street empty! But she had nowhere to put all these people, and no idea what they could do with themselves. One or two at a time, there were positions to be filled at home, and hiring a servant or two was nothing. But all these women together — what could be done? Were they all supposed to follow her and become doctors, or all go with her to become nuns?

Zhù Ying accompanied her and quietly helped deliver the medicine. The living conditions here were somewhat worse than the courtyard Xiao Jiang rented out. Xiao Jiang had a fondness for cleanliness, and was particular about her tenants, requiring even the rented courtyard to be kept as clean as possible. This courtyard had about it a whiff of decay after all the bloom had passed. Red lanterns scattered here and there — their efforts to decorate one or two new things on the dilapidated rooms only made everything look worse somehow.

Huajie entered one room, where a smell of cheap face powder lingered. Zhù Ying sneezed. One of the women inside shot looks in Zhù Ying’s direction; Zhù Ying kept her expression flat and said nothing. A proper residence had its layout — three rooms in the main quarters, three rooms in the side wings, and so forth. The rooms here were built against the walls, one after another in a shape like the character for “return,” with as many crammed in as would fit. In each room: a living person waiting to be cast off.

Zhù Ying said nothing the whole time, and waited for Huajie to finish delivering the medicine before walking out with her. Behind them, the women whispered in low voices: “What do we do? Is that her man? Will he be angry with her?”

The two reached the bridge. Huajie said: “I’ve always been careful.” Du Dajie also said: “I’ve been with the Madam the whole time.”

Zhù Ying smiled slightly and looked off into the distance, where not far away there was a courtyard with people coming and going, carrying out old broken pine branches and white funeral banners, while others carried furniture in.

At that moment, a small dark-skinned girl came walking along the road to the bridgehead and looked around: “Little Magistrate Zhù?”

The three turned and saw the small girl holding a basket with several jars and bottles inside. Zhù Ying said: “Xiao Ya, you’ve been out shopping again?”

Huajie said: “Oh, I wonder how our own Xiao Ya is doing.” The Xiao Ya she meant was the maidservant she had back in her hometown.

Xiao Ya came running up and looked curiously at Huajie. Huajie smiled back at her. Xiao Ya said: “I know — you’re the lady who brings medicine to them. Our mistress says you’re a good person.”

Huajie smiled: “And who is your mistress?”

“She’s from the Jiang family. Little Magistrate Zhù, would you like to come in and sit a while?”

Huajie was a little curious too, and asked Zhù Ying: “Would that be all right?”

Xiao Ya said: “Come on, come on!” and urged them persistently.

Huajie said: “Or maybe we shouldn’t bother.”

Zhù Ying was just about to speak when she saw Xiao Jiang pull open the courtyard gate and look out, as if searching for something. As she drew nearer, Xiao Ya called: “Mistress! Over here! Look who’s here!”

Xiao Jiang walked toward them, still seeming to search for something. Coming closer, Xiao Ya called again: “Mistress! Here! See who it is!”

Xiao Jiang said: “I thought you’d gotten lost! You’re being naughty again!” And she walked over. Huajie greeted her. Xiao Jiang started slightly, and returned a small bow: “And you are?”

“This is Dajie.”

The polite expression on Xiao Jiang’s face drained away, leaving only a flat blankness: “Oh. Xiao Ya, go inside.”

Xiao Ya said: “But… but…”

Huajie sensed the awkward atmosphere and said nothing, offering another small bow in farewell. Xiao Jiang looked at the silk flower at Huajie’s temple, pressed her lips together, and returned the bow. Then she looked at Zhù Ying: “What brings you here, Magistrate Zhù? This is no place to come sightseeing! There’s nothing worth seeing here!”

Zhù Ying lifted her chin in the direction of the courtyard. Xiao Jiang followed her gesture and looked, then said: “A beast has gone, the space has been cleared, and new oxen and horses will use it. What’s worth looking at?”

Huajie said nothing. Zhù Ying said: “You’re always watching all this — it’ll put you in a bad mood. Now that your livelihood is sorted, go out and walk around, clear your head. Or find something else to occupy yourself.”

Xiao Jiang said: “I’d love to. But what can a woman do? You can be an official — can I? Ha… You men are all the same — easy to speak when you’re not the one bearing the weight.”

Zhù Ying fixed a steady gaze on her. Xiao Jiang, under that gaze, lowered her head.

Xiao Ya also sensed something was off, and softly explained: “Our mistress has plans! If all else fails, she’ll convert this place into a nunnery!” She also glanced at Huajie, thinking: I’ve never met her, but Mistress has spoken well of her. She even said that someday she might turn this place into a small nunnery and take religious vows herself — to shelter some suffering women. So why is she acting like this now?

Xiao Jiang raised her voice a little and said: “Who said anything about a nunnery? I’m determined to turn it into a Daoist temple!”

Zhù Ying said: “Then you’d better start preparing. The Office of Daoist and Buddhist Affairs has been under investigation and is in a mess right now. These days, both monks and Daoist priests must pass an examination before receiving their ordination certificates — and the fees must still be paid as usual.”

Xiao Jiang glared at her in fury.

Zhù Ying said with an expression of perfect innocence: “It’s getting late — I ought to head home, and you should go back too.”

This left Xiao Jiang so angry she could barely contain it. She had thought Zhù Ying had deliberately brought that woman of exceptional fortune over to mock her. But then again, Zhù Ying hadn’t come to see her — she’d said she came to look at the old prostitute who had died. Xiao Jiang felt a bitter resentment, and said: “There’s nothing worth going back for. Can’t I stand here and look a while?”

As she spoke, she forced herself to look that way out of spite and said: “She was a terrible person. But that girl’s fate really is very good — very good indeed. She has wonderful people to care for her.”

Zhù Ying said: “Yes.”

They fought for her with their lives, Zhù Ying thought.

She said: “Let’s go. There’s a boat coming by soon. Dajie, let’s head back too — if we’re not there when Mother wakes up from her nap, she’ll start fussing.”

Xiao Jiang watched their retreating figures from the bridge, stamping her foot in anger. She muttered: “Go home! Tomorrow, find a tailor!”

“Mistress, what clothes are you having made?”

“Daoist robes!”

……

The three of them walked back home. Du Dajie remained as quiet as ever. Huajie quietly asked: “That young woman — who is she?”

Du Dajie, upon hearing this, glanced at Huajie and tensely waited for Zhù Ying’s answer. Zhù Ying said: “Pearl. She is Pearl.”

“What? Oh! Oh!” Huajie drew a sharp breath and asked: “So then…?”

“We’ll talk at home.”

“All right.”

When the three returned home, Zhang Xiangu had already woken up, and Zhù Da had also returned. The two of them were just grumbling to each other. Zhang Xiangu asked: “Where have you three been?” Zhù Ying said: “I went out with Dajie to deliver medicine.”

“Oh, oh — that’s a good thing.”

Du Dajie set down the medicine box and went to the kitchen to start dinner. Her cooking skills were poor — only marginally better than dreadful. Cooking plain porridge she could handle with ease, and she was excellent at building a fire quickly and efficiently while using little fuel. But ask her to season a dish or cook something with flavor, and she could very well finish off the whole Zhù household. So Zhang Xiangu did not nag her for coming home late without starting dinner.

Du Dajie went to tend the fire, and Zhang Xiangu was about to go cook. Huajie said: “Dry Mother, wait a moment — let me do it.” Zhù Ying said: “I’ll do it.”

She changed clothes and put on an apron. Whether in knife work or seasoning, she had been properly taught by the cook of a real official household, which put her far ahead of all of them. Zhang Xiangu refused to let her cook, and Zhù Ying said: “If I don’t keep practicing, my knife work will get rusty.”

After dinner, Du Dajie washed the bowls. Huajie came again to Zhù Ying’s room and asked: “What exactly is going on? Wasn’t she removed from the registry? Why is she still living there?”

Zhù Ying explained Pearl’s situation. Huajie said: “She’s a person with ideas — stubborn, and with a knot she can’t untangle. Sigh, anything I say now would probably sound like talking down to her. I’m afraid she may have misunderstood today too.”

Zhù Ying said: “What else is there? In the end, she has to find her own way out. I’ve already asked Old Mu to keep an eye on things — make sure no one harasses her.”

Huajie hesitated for a moment, then said: “There’s one more thing — you should be more careful. You…” She looked Zhù Ying over. Slender as green bamboo, Zhù Ying was not exactly what anyone would call a dazzlingly handsome young man, but she was a pleasant and approachable young official. Zhù Ying had been endearing and lovable before; now she was warm and easy-going. Xiao Jiang already had a hard life, and had no one to rely on. Giving a young girl too much care and attention without maintaining some boundaries would make it easy for her to misunderstand.

It was like placing a piece of meat in a trap — the meat was innocent, and the prey was innocent, and yet the trap was very much real.

She voiced her concern.

Zhù Ying said: “I don’t go there specifically for her sake. I didn’t even know who she was until this year, when I stumbled across her while working a case.”

“Really?”

Zhù Ying said: “Before, my mother wouldn’t let me go to places like that. Later, I didn’t want to go myself. But lately I keep wanting to go to places that aren’t pretty — to go and look. To see something beyond the splendor of the capital, the grandeur of palaces, the embroidered richness of the marquis’s mansions, the comfortable little life we have at home. I’m afraid of forgetting — forgetting that there is still suffering in this world. If I forget the suffering, the blade inside me will rust and dull. I… don’t want to become someone like Zhou You, and I don’t want to become someone like Grand Mentor Wang either.”

“Zhù Ying?”

“Dajie, it would be far too easy for me to become someone like them.”

“Of course — you’re capable, you work hard, and your heart is good.”

Zhù Ying shook her head: “I used to believe that if a person just worked hard enough, they could always find a way to live a decent life. But look — does Fu Xiaoniangzi not work hard? Do the women on that street not work hard? Is Xiao Jiang not a good person at heart? What have they gotten out of it? Is it that Old Tian couldn’t endure hardship, or that Du Dajie isn’t capable of hard work? And where has that gotten them?”

“Zhù Ying!” Huajie said seriously. “Don’t let yourself get lost in all of this. My mother used to say: if you see too many dishes on the table, you won’t know what to eat. You’ve come to the table — you have a seat now. Don’t overthink it. Let’s just eat, one bite at a time. All right?”

Zhù Ying looked at her serious expression and gave a quiet smile: “I’m just telling you — it doesn’t feel right to keep it bottled up. Actually, while I was standing on the bridge just now, something came to me.”

“What?”

Zhù Ying said: “I want to write a memorial. Women serving as officials — it’s not impossible, is it?”

……——

She had never written a proper memorial before! And now she was going to write one! This was something she had been turning over in her mind for the past few days. There were so many wrongs in this world — situations like those of Du Dajie, Xiaoniangzi of the Shi family, or the foster daughter of the Niu family were beyond counting. And Huajie in her own time — had she not been in the same position? Then there was Oriole and Swallow and all the rest…

She was not of a mind to rescue people one by one as she came across them, nor did she feel suited for it. She had thought about it for several days, and found herself returning to something Grand Mentor Wang had said about “order.” But was the unhappiness of all these people not itself caused by the present “order”? If “order” was so important, and yet capable of causing such harm, why not try what Grand Mentor Wang had spoken of — “reforming the laws”?

She understood that when Grand Mentor Wang spoke of “reforming the laws,” he had largely meant amendments and patches to the existing legal provisions. That did not stop her from having her own ideas.

She thought perhaps she could first do one small thing.

Since she was in the Court of Judicial Review, the one part of the whole government she knew best was the Court of Judicial Review — and so it was from there that her thoughts naturally began. The Court held both male and female prisoners. Since male and female prisoners were kept in separate cells, why not appoint a female warden? Why not recruit a few female guards? Did they not speak of “propriety”? Did “propriety” not demand the separation of men and women?

The miscellaneous affairs of the Court were currently under her management, and she thought this arrangement suited her just fine!

The Court held many female prisoners who had formerly been titled ladies — what was wrong with having a female warden or two to oversee them? And if some of these women happened to be innocent — victims of false accusations and collateral arrests — having male jailers watch over them hardly preserved anyone’s dignity, did it?

Seeing that she had calmed down so quickly, Huajie said: “Let me help!” She rolled up her sleeves and began to grind the ink for Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying composed a rough draft in her head — mainly working out the format of the memorial, which lines required indentation, which required starting on a new line, and so on. Then she picked up her brush and began to write. After all, it was her first memorial, and aside from the format, most everything else was modeled on the limited number of Court of Judicial Review-related memorials she had read before.

She had one particular talent: frugality. She almost never made mistakes that wasted paper. She wrote through it in one pass, spread the memorial on the desk to dry, and said to Huajie: “Take a look — does this seem workable?”

Huajie said: “Am I allowed to read it?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

Huajie began walking over to stand beside her while saying: “I’ve often heard that ministers aren’t supposed to let others see their memorials — even after submitting them, there’s the custom of keeping them confidential. How much more so before submitting? You ought to be careful.”

She said only this much, and did not wait for Zhù Ying’s response — she was already absorbed in reading, her eyes growing wider and wider. At last she spun around abruptly: “Zhù Ying?!” Her voice cracked.

Zhù Ying wrinkled her nose: “From the ninth grade — not very satisfying. I still need to add restrictions on eligibility; otherwise those ghastly people will be even less likely to agree. Things like investigating three generations back and so on… But Xiao Jiang’s mind is sharper than some of the dull clerks at the Court of Judicial Review. And once this goes through, why couldn’t Xiaoniangzi of the Shi family fight for a chance? Ha!”

Huajie said in a trembling voice: “This has never been done before — I’m afraid they won’t agree.”

“What has ever existed from the beginning? The house we live in didn’t always exist either — someone built it, someone bought it, and we rented it. The rice we eat — the fields that grew it weren’t just there from the start. Someone had to break new ground, someone had to cultivate poor soil into fertile land, someone had to plant and harvest the rice, and then it made its way into our bowls. Isn’t that so? Oh, and the rice still has to be cooked!”

Huajie said: “But it’s like breaking new ground — it takes time and effort, no one knows how long, and sometimes a great storm comes and you have to start all over from the beginning.”

“I never expected it to be easy. There will certainly be arguments — and even after all the arguing, it still might not succeed. But this is the biggest thing I can think of that I might actually be able to accomplish right now. Boring through — that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Huajie said: “Anything you do will not be a bad thing. Even if it’s difficult, it will come to pass eventually. You’ll be able to help many people, save many people — you can do it! You’re truly good.”

Zhù Ying fanned the memorial to dry it, saying: “I’m nothing of the sort! I’m opening a path — whoever wants to walk it, whoever can make it to the end, that’s up to them. Who has the patience to come across one young woman, lend her a hand, and then come across the next one sobbing, and reach into their pocket again? What — is there such a thing as an addiction to saving people? As if one were bestowing gifts! Walking around every day burning with the desire to rescue those who have fallen — that’s an illness, and it needs treating! I just want to do what satisfies me.”

Huajie laughed so hard she had to turn away. After a long while, seeing Zhù Ying put the memorial away, Huajie hesitated and asked: “Might the phrasing be a little too plain?”

Zhù Ying said: “My first priority is to make the matter clear. Forcing in classical allusions — every one of those old men at court is stronger than I am at that. If they spot a weakness in my scholarship, one word from them could shut me down completely. I’m not taking that risk.”

“You always handle things so thoroughly — it will certainly succeed!”

Huajie said one more sentence, then suddenly remembered something and ran out. A little while later, she came back carrying a tray, which she set down on the crabapple table in the center of the room, and said: “Come — let’s have a drink!”

Zhù Ying walked over. Huajie was arranging the items on the tray onto the table: a pot of wine, two cups, two pairs of chopsticks, thinly sliced beef, salt-boiled beans cooked until tender, crispy fried small dried fish, and a few pieces of snow-white bean curd.

Zhù Ying sat down too. Huajie poured for her. The two each had a cup, and they ate slowly, clinking their cups together without speaking — then one of them would suddenly laugh, then the other, and then they both laughed together. When they had finished eating and drinking, both were pleasantly tipsy. Huajie said: “Let Du Dajie help clear the table, and you should go to sleep. There are proper matters to attend to tomorrow. Let’s hope we haven’t drunk too much — I’d hate to wake up with a headache.”

Zhù Ying said: “It’ll be fine.”

Her capacity for alcohol was actually quite decent, though not bottomless, and she did not dare drink openly in front of others. The next morning she woke up without the slightest trace of a hangover, clear-headed and refreshed, and went off to report for duty with the memorial tucked inside her robes.

……

When Zhù Ying arrived at the Court of Judicial Review, she first attended to the miscellaneous affairs, moving through them with great ease.

The several deputy judges of the Court also knew which way the wind was blowing. Hu Lian had long since switched allegiances; the others were still hedging their bets, biding their time.

Unluckily for them, Zhù Ying had far too much energy — she darted here and there without tiring and could still hold her own with three levels of supervisors above her. Since her arrival, even the food had improved somewhat, with greater variety, and yet the cost had not gone up. The Court of Judicial Review had a certain public expense fund, and run through Zhù Ying’s hands, the accounts were clear and the money always went where it was most needed. For example, one particular deputy judge who used up an unusually large amount of brushes — without being told, Zhù Ying had increased that line item in his expenses and trimmed the tea he never drank, so that no one could complain while the man himself benefited.

Because she drove a hard bargain when purchasing supplies, she was able to save money from the public fund, then used it to help colleagues at times of marriage, death, and celebration, under the name of the Court of Judicial Review. She also set a standard to avoid imbalances — otherwise a man with many children would receive the most, and a man whose wives kept dying would receive the most as well. She ruled that for each official serving in the Court of Judicial Review while Zheng Xi was presiding, there would be one subsidy for getting married, one for the birth of a child, one for the death of a parent, and once a year for illness — if one did not fall ill oneself, and a family member did, half the illness subsidy was available. The subsidies varied according to each person’s official rank, amounting to roughly one month’s salary.

In her hands, a thousand tangled threads lay smooth and still. Her memory was sharp — she could give some account of the names, backgrounds, and family circumstances of nearly three hundred people in the Court, and when they were in difficulty, she would remember and offer some assistance, either in the name of the Court or in the name of Zheng Xi. She personally wore out her own standing to bargain for cheaper prices, and the savings benefited her colleagues — most of them did not know it was her doing, but regardless, the rank-and-file colleagues and clerks were quite satisfied. Who would not prefer to be looked after comfortably?

Before long, everyone felt that having her manage things was genuinely good! The neighboring Office of Imperial Rites and Office of State Provisions were green with envy — those two were jealous not only of having such a capable administrator, but also envious of her ability to communicate with the Prefecture of the Capital. The Prefecture’s standing had been growing increasingly firm, and they were not easy people to deal with!

Hu Lian put it this way: “Incompetents pick fights over credit. When someone is better than me at everything — that’s called letting the capable person do the hard work, and I ought to thank them for their effort.” He had said this just after marrying off his daughter and receiving an extra gift from the public fund.

Zhù Ying herself felt that all of this was nothing — she simply opened her mouth and gave instructions, then checked the accounts and signed her name. And doing these things was not without its rewards: her desk was always the most thoroughly wiped, her cup always had hot water, one word from her and anything she wanted appeared, and if she wanted people to charge into the streets to fight after work, she could gather a hundred people who would change clothes and go with her. Old Mu himself probably did not have as many connections.

Because she handled so many administrative matters, her contact with several supervisors also increased. Zheng Xi loved books, Pei Qing loved books, and both Chief Justices loved them even more. Zhù Ying thought it would make her a fool to pass up such an opportunity. She added a line item for book purchases to the public expense fund — the books were kept at the Court and not taken home, and anyone who wished to read them could borrow them. Some were large canonical texts; others were contemporary literary collections, miscellaneous records, and even popular fiction.

The canonical texts were justified as “reference materials for official correspondence and precedents in adjudication.” The literary collections, miscellaneous records, and fiction were justified under “understanding the affairs of the world.” Both avid readers and those who did not enjoy reading could find something suited to them — even the Sixth Young Lord Yang from the neighboring office came over to borrow fiction twice, though unfortunately he took away a small booklet that Leng Yun had been hiding at the Court rather than bringing home, and Leng Yun caught him and gave him a thorough thrashing.

Zhù Ying then suggested to Zheng Xi: “Set aside a dedicated room for the books. Affix a tag to every book, and issue a numbered tablet to each person. Assign a clerical official to stay there and manage checking books out and taking them back, keeping a register — on what day someone borrowed which book, and when it was returned. No one should be allowed to monopolize a single book for too long, so limit it to either three days or five days per book. If it’s returned late, damaged, or lost, the borrower must either buy a replacement or copy one out.”

Zheng Xi agreed wholeheartedly. Zhù Ying could only sigh: she should have charged a deposit and a rental fee — that would have added another sum to the Court’s public fund. But she did not dare say so. To say such a thing about running that kind of business in the Court of Judicial Review in front of Zheng Xi — Zheng Xi would surely summon Wen Yue to give her a beating.

She had quite a lot on her plate, but her primary duties had not suffered either. The cases assigned to her for review were checked with thoroughness, and the ordinary official correspondence coming in from all directions was handled as well.

For this reason, when she had finished the day’s work and Zheng Xi had just returned from court, and she tucked her memorial under her arm and went alone to see Zheng Xi, everyone else in the Court took it as entirely unremarkable.

Zheng Xi was thoroughly satisfied with the current state of the Court of Judicial Review, and his gaze when it fell on Zhù Ying was much like the look one gives a son. He smiled and asked: “What is it now? And remind someone to go buy a new collection just published by Liu Songnian.”

Zhù Ying agreed, then placed the memorial on his desk.

“What’s this?” Zheng Xi asked as he flipped it open. “Oh, you’ve finally thought to write a memorial?”

He read on, growing increasingly grave. Finally he asked: “What made you think of this?”

Zhù Ying said: “It’s written at the top.”

“I’m asking you to tell me what isn’t written.” Zheng Xi was not about to fall for that.

Zhù Ying said helplessly: “A while back, at the Prefecture of the Capital, I accidentally… had a little too much to drink.”

Zheng Xi was alarmed: “What? What did you do in front of him?”

Zhù Ying tapped her fingers together: “Just a small slip — it’s already over. Over and done with. But I’ve been deeply regretting it ever since! And it got me thinking — wine, women, money, and temper. When someone breaks the law, they almost never stray from these four things. Watching over female prisoners involves one of them — the temptation of women — and that won’t do! The Court of Judicial Review cannot afford such a slip. Better than a thousand warnings and heavy punishments after the fact is simply removing the opportunity for error altogether! What do you think, my Lord — could something like this work?”

Zheng Xi did not agree immediately. He deliberated for a moment and said: “In all things, responding to change with constancy is best. Unless there is a hundredfold benefit, do not reform the laws… One must be prudent and measured in governing.”

But Zhù Ying was not someone who could easily be taken in. She said: “Old men — afraid to move.”

“What?!”

“Not referring to you, my Lord — I mean, not every household has someone like the Marquis in it,” she tapped her own temple, “The Marquis may be getting on in years and no longer has the physical vigor of his youth, but his mind is far from dead. The truth is, many households are weighed down by an old man who loathes any change whatsoever — yet the moment his children or grandchildren bring forth something good, he’s perfectly happy to bask in the glory of it.”

Zheng Xi sighed and thought for a moment, then said: “His Majesty…”

Zhù Ying thought: I knew it! It’s him you’re worried about!

She said: “Our own Court of Judicial Review handles this ourselves — two deputies and eight guards. If that seems like too many, cut them in half. But let’s start by requesting more, so we have room to negotiate down! As for how their accounts would work, I’ve already calculated everything, and it’s all attached at the back — you’ll see. Everything’s been thought through. If there’s trouble, we stop. If it works, we’ll have something worth pointing to in the future. I’ve considered the difficulties too — there’s sure to be fierce argument, and then there’s the matter of how men and women should conduct themselves as colleagues. That’s also manageable — nip it right at the root! Recruit only women from good families! Or else the wives, daughters, and sisters of existing court clerks may also apply. What do you think?”

Zheng Xi turned it over and over, still harboring some hesitation. He certainly wanted to make his mark — but his imperial uncle was getting on in years and had become disinclined toward commotion and disturbance. After the cases of the Gong rebels and others, he had grown increasingly sensitive. Many people shared the same thought: even if one had ideas, it was best to “wait for the new emperor.” That line of thinking was, of course, deeply dangerous.

Zheng Xi did not particularly want to “wait for the new emperor,” yet he also worried that if he was too active now, the “new emperor” upon ascending the throne might see him in a different light.

But Zhù Ying had touched something deep within him: “many households are weighed down by an old man who loathes any change — yet the moment his children or grandchildren bring forth something good, he’s perfectly happy to bask in the glory of it.”

That was true enough — as long as this credit was pushed toward the old man, as long as the old man was made to feel it had been his own idea all along.

Zheng Xi pointed to several lines and said: “Expand on this part! Write it in your own voice!” He had no wish to take credit from a subordinate — achievements that came from under his hand reflected well on his own eye for people.

Zhù Ying dutifully stepped forward, and saw that the lines he had indicated read: “In the seventh year, the prison warden of Li Province violated three female prisoners, and was beheaded. In the twelfth year, a prison guard of Zhang County committed an offense against a female prisoner, and was hanged.” She said: “I noticed this when doing reviews — I hadn’t fully worked through the implications then. I have now.”

Zheng Xi said approvingly: “Write it as having been an unresolved torment — saying that you have long been troubled and unable to sleep, feeling you have failed the grace bestowed by His Majesty, and anxious for a way to prevent such things.”

Zhù Ying added another example as well — a chaste woman wrongfully imprisoned on false charges: “For one such wrongfully accused woman, even if the case has yet to be clarified, the court ought at least to afford her the most basic dignity.”

The two of them murmured back and forth, and eventually arrived at the final draft, opening with the emperor’s sagacity and his command to re-examine old cases, through which many longstanding injustices had come to light, and the Court of Judicial Review, inspired by this spirit, had proceeded thusly, and thusly.

In the end, it only stated that the Court of Judicial Review intended to implement this arrangement, because of the Court’s special nature — it held the families of convicted officials, who were entitled to dignity. If they were truly convicted criminals, and had forfeited their own dignity by their own actions, that was a separate matter unrelated to the Court’s responsibilities. In any case, within the imperial palace precincts, dignity must be maintained. Zhù Ying’s proposed budget was all attached to the back — including a small dining area for the staff — and there was nothing that required anyone else to puzzle over. All that was needed was a nod.

Zheng Xi finally said: “Submit it.”