A small window’s light beside them, knee to knee by the lamplight.

After returning from the family visit, the young couple enjoyed a few quiet days of leisure. Then the wedding leave ended, and Pei Shaohuai returned to the Hanlin Academy — leaving in the mornings, returning at night. As the eldest daughter-in-law of the Earl’s household, Yang Shiyue gradually began assisting her mother-in-law in managing the household and its affairs.

With order among elders and juniors maintained, the eldest son now being married, Pei Shaojin’s own marriage could be placed on the agenda.

That day, Shaojin brought gifts and paid a visit to his examination mentor, Lord Lu Yanxue of the Lu family. In name it was a visit to his teacher; in truth, it was to pay his respects to his prospective maternal grandfather and father-in-law, and to inform them of his plans to travel south for study, asking for their understanding.

After all, it would mean asking the young lady of the Lu family to wait two more years.

The Earl’s household, therefore, spared no effort in showing sincerity — the gifts were prepared to a high standard, without the slightest corner cut. Before setting out, Shaojin rehearsed what he meant to say several times over, afraid of misspeaking when the moment came.

On the Lu family’s side, they too took Pei Shaojin’s visit most seriously. Though it was formally only a “visit to a teacher,” Lu Yiyao’s father and elder brothers had all taken leave and remained at home. For one, Pei Shaojin had earned the deep admiration of Elder Lord Lu — talented and promising, he was an ideal candidate to become a grandson-in-law. For another, the Earl’s household had recently enjoyed one celebration after another; the eldest grandson’s double achievement of success had made quite a stir, announcing to all that the Jingchuan Earl’s household was no longer what it once was.

By contrast, the Lu household had indeed been lacking in momentum in recent years. Elder Lord Lu was approaching the age of retirement; from his position as Administrator of the Imperial Stud, the only step upward was Minister of War — a remote prospect at best. The younger generation was reasonably accomplished, none lacking in their studies, yet they were better than some and not as good as others, holding posts that were titled but without real authority.

That was the common reality of official families in the capital.

In the main hall, Pei Shaojin wore a pale blue scholar’s robe, his hair bound with a blue-jade crown. Seeing all the Lu family elders gathered there, a faint nervousness showed on his face — but his bearing was measured, his manner courteous and composed.

Pei Shaojin greeted and paid his respects to each of them in turn.

Half an hour later, once the atmosphere had been properly warmed, Pei Shaojin said, “Teacher, this student intends to travel south with my father to study and broaden my horizons, in preparation for the spring examinations two years hence. Confined to a study, I have seen only a patch of ground — my writing still lacks a certain breadth and depth of spirit.”

Two years away meant two more years before the marriage.

Elder Lord Lu’s expression did not change; he showed no surprise. Instead, there was an increase of approval in his eyes. “That you have the awareness to travel so far in pursuit of learning is truly admirable. The pursuit of knowledge is not something that can be done halfway — if you hold back, your understanding will remain shallow.”

He then asked, “I have heard that your elder brother also traveled south to study before his metropolitan examination?”

Pei Shaojin nodded. “That is so. My elder brother spent two years studying in the Jiangnan region.”

Elder Lord Lu understood at once: this meant the Pei family had access to distinguished teachers and experience with such journeys. Pei Shaojin’s time in the south would not be wasted. His granddaughter was only seventeen this year — what did two more years matter? Would it not be all the better to wait until the golden list was posted?

“Very well. Set your mind at ease and go south,” Elder Lord Lu said. “Wine grows richer with age; learning grows deeper with study. These things cannot be rushed.” Marriage included.

Pei Shaojin’s heart lifted with joy. “Yes, this student will keep teacher’s words in mind.”

With Elder Lord Lu’s words, the Earl’s household could now send a matchmaker to formally propose and exchange betrothal documents.

Outside the side gate, Lady Lu pressed herself against the wall, straining to catch every word from the main hall. Through a small window, she stole a look at Pei Shaojin’s appearance and bearing — the longer she looked, the more satisfied she felt.

She let out a long breath, and said quietly to the nanny beside her, “Thank goodness the old lady stopped me in time. Otherwise, I truly would have ruined everything. That was close — so close.”

“My lady, why not take this opportunity to go say some kind words to the old mistress?”

“I know, I know,” Lady Lu said. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

……

In a small courtyard of the Lu family home, sparse curtains swayed in the autumn breeze, and fallen paulownia leaves carpeted the stone pavilion.

Withered leaves of the paulownia lay scattered all around; the soft sound of crushed leaves followed Pei Shaojin’s quiet footsteps as he approached.

Elder Lord Lu, though a serious man, was not a rigid old traditionalist. He found a pretext to let the two young people meet.

On the stone pavilion table sat a Six-Treasure food box, its tiers stacked one atop another.

“Take it back and eat it yourself — don’t share it with anyone,” said young Miss Lu. “Once you’ve eaten this, the next time you want some, I suppose you’ll have to wait two years.” There was a hint of petulance in her voice.

Lu Yiyao’s feelings were a tangle of things — the shy joy of a betrothal being set, and the reluctant sorrow of an impending parting.

“Yiyao, I…”

“Oh, enough,” Lu Yiyao cut Pei Shaojin off. “I don’t know how many times you’ve explained it already.”

She had long known that Pei Shaojin intended to travel south to study.

She added, “Jiangnan has its lovely sights — all kinds of beauty to dazzle one’s eyes. Remember to study hard and apply yourself to your learning. And if you have a moment free… if you have a moment, you can send letters home.”

“I will.”

Just sitting like this in the stone pavilion, eating snacks, listening to the paulownia leaves fall with a quiet, lonely rustle — the stillness of it was pleasant enough on its own.

The time came for Pei Shaojin to return to the household. Lu Yiyao picked up the Six-Treasure food box and handed it to him.

As he took it, a light fragrance suddenly drifted toward him. He felt something soft and fleeting brush his cheek — there and gone in an instant, cool and light yet burning like fire. Pei Shaojin’s grip tightened on the food box handle. He drew her gently forward, and pressed a soft “dot” of his lips to Lu Yiyao’s forehead in return.

“Wait for me to come back, once my studies are done.”

“Mm.”

……

With the Lu family’s reply obtained, the Earl’s household moved swiftly. An auspicious date had long been calculated; an official matchmaker had long been arranged. The matchmaker called upon the Lu household to propose; a few days later, she returned bearing a pair of wild geese and the betrothal documents were exchanged — the engagement was formally settled.

Pei Bingyuan was to return to his post in Taicang Prefecture. Pei Shaojin and Xu Yancheng would travel south together with him for their studies. The Earl’s household was busy once again — though this time, they would sail aboard a large thousand-dan vessel, making the journey far less eventful.

Taicang Prefecture truly could not do without Pei Bingyuan at this time. He had been away barely three months, and the prefectural office had already sent three urgent dispatches, each waiting for him to make decisions. For instance, more and more merchant vessels were docking at the Taicang wharves, and the harbor was urgently in need of expansion. Then there were the surrounding counties: seeing Taicang Prefecture grow ever more prosperous, they all hoped to take advantage of the proximity and form cooperative arrangements.

Lin Shi would also travel south. The Suzhou Prefecture region and the Taicang wharves had taken on several new business ventures, and she needed to go and manage affairs in person.

Lin Shi’s eldest maternal uncle had recently returned to the capital, and had told her that the Lin family planned to hire several ships this year and join the merchant fleet sailing south to trade in the Southern Seas — her eldest son Lin Yao was a bold and restless soul who had long harbored this idea. Lin Shiyun was getting on in years, and so had let him have his way.

The ships would depart from Taicang Prefecture; with Lin Shi heading there, she might well be of some help.

The businesses here in the capital would be left in Yang Shiyue’s care.

On the day of departure, the family came to see them off. Pei Shaojin stood at the ferry dock, his gaze fixed on the direction of the post road, watching for a long while without boarding the vessel.

The autumn wind came in gusts; the river flowed with a quiet, lonely sound.

The family understood what was on Shaojin’s mind. No one hurried him — they let him stand in silence and wait. At last, dust rose in the distance along the post road, and a black horse came galloping toward them at full speed.

It was Lu Yiyao’s eldest brother.

“My little sister got up before daylight to make them, and still it took a little longer than expected,” said Lu Yiyao’s brother, handing the food box to Pei Shaojin.

The fragrance of the pastries drifted out. The box was still warm to the touch.

“Thank you for your trouble, Elder Brother Lu.”

Lu Yiyao’s brother clapped Shaojin on the shoulder and said, “Get on the boat now. Take care of yourselves, all of you.”

The river water parted as the vessel moved, the wake trailing far, far behind.

Pei Shaojin sat cross-legged by the cabin window, watching the scenery recede continuously behind him. However fragrant the freshly made pastries were, they could not stir his appetite — he could not bring himself to eat them.

When he opened the food box, he found a letter tucked in the topmost tier, which read: “Day after day I wind the silk and work the loom; by the time we meet again, enough silk for a thousand bolts will have passed.”

Silk — and longing — are one: parted from her beloved, longing weaves itself into bolts.

……

……

By year’s end, the Hanlin Academy’s compilation work for the year was complete; only revision work remained.

Supervising Instructor Zou came to find Pei Shaohuai and said, “I know you are still to begin your observation duties at the Six Bureaus. Now that the Veritable Records are compiled and affairs at the Hanlin Academy are not pressing, you may settle your paperwork and report to the Six Ministries.”

Supervising Instructor Zou had little personal interest in advancement, but he never stood in the way of others’ prospects. He understood that, compared to the compiler post, the voice of a Supervising Secretary of Works carried considerably more weight.

“Thank you, Supervising Instructor.”

Supervising Instructor Zou added, “However, your rotational palace duty as recorder is to continue.”

“Understood.”

And so, after settling his paperwork, Pei Shaohuai received the authorization token for the Six Bureaus and officially began his observation duties at the Six Bureaus.

The Six Bureaus’ offices were located within the palace, not far from the Emperor’s residence at the Palace of Heavenly Purity. Within the palace, if one spotted an official in a seventh-rank green robe walking with a stride that seemed to gather wind at every step — one need not wonder: it was certain to be a Supervising Secretary.

The Bureau of Works had one senior official: the seventh-rank Chief Supervising Secretary, by name Song Lian. Below him were two deputy officials — the junior seventh-rank Left and Right Supervising Secretaries, named Zhao Yu and Gou Shengchang respectively.

The remaining staff, including Pei Shaohuai, numbered six in total — all junior seventh-rank Supervising Secretaries.

On Pei Shaohuai’s first day reporting to the Six Bureaus for observation, when he called on Chief Official Song Lian, he noticed immediately that Chief Song’s expression carried a look of displeasure; his manner toward Pei Shaohuai was cool and indifferent.

From Song Lian’s words, Pei Shaohuai gathered some sense of the reason.

Song Lian was in his forties, with eyebrows that slanted upward at the corners — giving him an air of stern rectitude no matter the occasion, very much the face of a remonstrating official. On Pei Shaohuai’s very first day, he issued two reminders: “You are still young, with no experience of affairs — you know nothing of the great matters at court. It is better not to remonstrate at all than to make errors that drag everyone down. For these two years, stay here in the office and read through old memorials and official documents. As for remonstrating — that can wait.”

Clearly, Chief Song had already written Pei Shaohuai off as a liability.

Supervising Secretaries tended to be relatively young officials — though “young” here did not mean someone of Pei Shaohuai’s age, seventeen or eighteen. Young, in this context, meant young relative to other court officials: a man in his thirties or forties was considered young here.

At that age, a man had lived through things; he still had edges and angles. Given authority, he dared to face down powerful officials directly.

Pei Shaohuai understood where Song Lian was coming from. The Emperor had inserted someone on a whim; Pei Shaohuai was too young, and a scion of the nobility besides. If he spoke rashly at court, said something excessive, and caused a misstep, it would fall to Song Lian, as chief official, to clean up the mess.

The six bureaus already maintained a subtle rivalry with one another. The Bureau of Works had received a brand-new top examination graduate not yet twenty years old — it sounded impressive in name, but that did not necessarily mean he would be of any use.

He was just occupying a seat.

What right did a young man just arrived have to make anyone believe immediately that he was capable?

Pei Shaohuai thought to himself: he genuinely did need time to familiarize himself properly with the old memorials and official documents, to build a solid foundation before taking the next step. So he replied, “Your subordinate will bear this in mind.”

“Go with Deputy Official Gou for now and get a sense of the Bureau of Works.” Song Lian waved him off.

“Yes.”

Pei Shaohuai followed Deputy Official Gou out. They walked and conversed as they went.

Gou Shengchang appeared somewhat younger than Song Lian. His manner toward Pei Shaohuai was cordial — consistently warm and gentle — as he said, “Chief Song’s words were a little harsh, but he does mean well. Spend time with him and you’ll see he’s someone whose words are blunt but whose heart is soft; he’s easy to get along with.”

He also said, “On just one point do I differ from him: a remonstrating official’s worth lies in his boldness and spirit, and his sharpness of perception. Once you’ve familiarized yourself with the situation, don’t restrain yourself when the time comes to speak at court — say what needs to be said. We’ve all made our way step by step like this.”

After they had made a circuit of the Bureau of Works courtyard and Pei Shaohuai had been introduced to the various colleagues stationed there, Deputy Official Gou said as they departed, “Each of them has their own temperament, but none are difficult to get along with. At court there may be distinctions of rank, but once outside the palace, we’re all brothers.”

Pei Shaohuai sensed something not quite right in this Deputy Official Gou’s manner of speaking, and simply replied, “Deputy Official Gou is quite right. I will rely on all the senior colleagues for guidance in the days to come.”

And sure enough, Gou Shengchang picked up on Pei Shaohuai’s reply and continued, “Let’s not talk of guidance — we’re all in the Bureau of Works together; we need to be of one mind in our work.” He added, “Going forward, when a colleague at court speaks up on a matter, if you can lend your voice and add a few words, the relationship grows closer… and naturally, when you submit a remonstration, your colleagues will be glad to speak up in support. Wouldn’t that be how it works?”

So that was where the snare lay — that was the scheme being set in motion.

Just as they rounded a turn and arrived at the archive hall where old memorials and official documents were stored, Pei Shaohuai stepped forward naturally and asked, “Is this the place Chief Song meant when he told me to read through the old memorials and official documents?”

And with that, he had neatly sidestepped Deputy Official Gou’s line of conversation.