Master Cao the tutor had no hope of passing the imperial examinations to become an official, so for the sake of earning a living—a few scraps of silver—he had grudgingly agreed to provide elementary instruction to children of wealthy families. Over the many years he had practiced this trade, he had grown thoroughly adept at his “rote memorization method,” deploying it with effortless ease.

What he had not anticipated was that this “rote memorization method” would prove entirely ineffective on the two brothers, Huai and Jin. Texts that would normally take Tutor Cao a sluggish six months to finish teaching, the two brothers completed in little more than a month, forcing him to continually press forward through the curriculum.

The feeling was rather like this—he, the tutor, was being driven forward by two small students.

Naturally, this did not sit well with him.

Since he was doing this work purely to make ends meet, what did it matter whom he taught? He might as well seek out another household, take on a few students of ordinary aptitude, follow a steady and orderly pace, and enjoy some peace of mind.

And so Tutor Cao chose to tender his resignation to the Old Master Pei.

When Tutor Ge, who taught calligraphy, learned of this, he gave a dismissive laugh and remarked: “So he was just looking for an easy time of it.” Each went about his own affairs without interference.

After Tutor Cao’s departure, the Earl’s Manor had not yet found a suitable replacement within a short period of time. The two brothers, Huai and Jin, had no choice but to continue their studies independently, and having finished reciting the Analects, they moved on to memorizing Mencius.

……

Now, to speak of matters at the Xu household—upon learning that her younger sister had talked back to the mistress of the house, Lian Jie’er was both vexed and upset.

She was living very well at the Xu family now. Her husband had passed the examinations and attained his scholarly rank, her mother-in-law treated her with kindness, and young Yan Gui was clever and lively. Lian Jie’er was genuinely grateful to Lin Shi from the bottom of her heart.

She took her son with her and found time to return to her maternal home, where she spoke at length with Lin Shi, explaining that Lan Jie’er had been willful and spoiled since childhood and did not know how to conduct herself properly. She hoped Lin Shi would not hold a grudge against her.

“She did nothing wrong, really—it was my own lack of consideration that caused the misunderstanding with what I said.” Lin Shi appeared unbothered, yet a troubled expression crossed her face and she let out a soft sigh, saying: “However, I am afraid I can no longer involve myself in matters concerning Lan Jie’er’s marriage prospects.”

A daughter’s marriage was properly a matter of parental command and the matchmaker’s word. In saying this, Lin Shi had made her position unmistakably clear—Lan Jie’er’s matrimonial affairs were neither her place to manage, nor did she wish to manage them.

All these years, Lin Shi had never once been remiss in providing for Lan Jie’er, yet she had received not a shred of appreciation in return. In the end, it had left her heart cold.

Lin Shi took Lian Jie’er’s hand and said: “Lian’er, after all these years, you know what kind of person I am—I have not the slightest desire to rush her into marriage. As for Lan Jie’er’s wedding, I fear it will have to trouble you, as her elder sister, to give it more thought. See whether your brother-in-law may have a suitable colleague among his associates who could help make the introduction… You know that in this family, Lan Jie’er listens most to you. Whoever you approve of is bound to be a worthy choice.”

Lian Jie’er lowered her eyes. She understood what her stepmother meant, and she understood the difficulty of her stepmother’s position. After a moment’s silence, she raised her gaze and said to Lin Shi: “I understand. It is Mother who has been made to endure the difficulty.”

After Lian Jie’er came out of the Zhaolu Courtyard, she had originally intended to bring little Yan Gui to visit her younger sister, but the more she thought about it, the more vexed and irritated she became. She shook out her wide sleeves and went straight back to the Xu household instead.

Her disappointment could not have been more evident.

……

On the eighth day of the third month, the renovation of the Pei family’s theater was completed. Behind the main building, a theater garden had been added, and the establishment reopened.

Business grew somewhat more brisk—there is no need to go into great detail.

Once the theater’s affairs had stabilized and were running smoothly, Lin Shi finally freed herself to rest for a couple of days. That day, she proposed to the Old Madam: “Grandmother, the theater has engaged a new opera troupe. They perform new productions rather than the old repertoire, and in these recent days they have been staging the currently fashionable The Purple Hairpin. Why don’t the whole family go and listen together, and share in the merriment?”

The moment Lin Shi finished speaking, Zhu Jie’er and Ying Jie’er were the first to grow excited—being somewhat younger, they always had a touch of playfulness in them.

The maids and matrons who attended on the mistresses could not conceal their delight either.

The Old Madam laughed cheerfully and said: “Then let’s do as you suggest and go together to lift our spirits.”

Had she merely wanted to watch opera, she could have summoned the troupe to the Earl’s Manor, but Lin Shi had chosen to go out instead. The first reason was that she wished to show everyone the grandeur of the new theater; the second was that the theater would be lively and bustling, lending the occasion an atmosphere all its own.

Lin Shi said with a smile: “I’ve had someone reserve the most magnificent private box—today, no matter who they are, even if they offer twice the silver, they won’t be able to take it from us.”

For the young ladies and young masters of the household to venture out together to the opera was no great matter in itself, but there were no shortage of small arrangements to make. Concubine Shen requested permission from the Old Madam, then stepped down to go and see to the preparations herself.

Lan Jie’er, with her proud and aloof temperament, had originally been disinclined to join the outing—but when she heard that the performance was The Purple Hairpin, the story of a talented scholar and beautiful maiden and their tortuous, bittersweet romance, she relented after some hesitation and agreed to go along and hear the opera.

As evening fell, the theater’s lanterns were lit one by one, casting a brilliant and resplendent glow. The musicians of the troupe entered first, playing snippets of tunes from time to time. Audience members arrived in twos and threes, taking their seats gradually, while the attendants wove among them, pouring tea and attending to the guests.

The Old Madam, with the whole family in tow, sat in the central private box, chatting idly back and forth as they waited for the performance to begin.

As the rhythm of the musicians’ drums grew steadily more rapid, several large copper mirrors gathered the light, illuminating the stage, and the performers made their entrances one by one… The fine performance had begun.

The Purple Hairpin tells roughly the following story: the talented scholar Li Yi and the beauty Huo Xiaoyu fall in love through the exchange of a purple jade hairpin. After Li Yi passes the imperial examinations and claims the top rank, he is framed by the Grand Commandant of the court, and the couple are repeatedly separated. The lovers grow suspicious of each other, and lovesickness sets in… After many trials and tribulations, suspicion gives way to understanding, and they are reunited.

Li Yi’s subsequent career in office also proceeds smoothly and favorably.

When the performance reached the scene of the farewell at the willow trees on the Baling Bridge—the parting by the road of Yang Pass—there was not a soul in the theater left unmoved. Inside the private box, every female member of the Pei household was quietly dabbing at their eyes. Lan Jie’er in particular wept like pear blossoms in the rain, as though she herself were that Huo Xiaoyu, consumed by longing to her very bones.

Pei Shaohuai alone was unmoved, his interest lukewarm. As someone who had witnessed all manner of entertainment from a later age, he could not muster much enthusiasm for the kind of story where talented scholars and beautiful maidens are parted and reunited, rending each other’s hearts in the process.

Pei Shaohuai inwardly mocked himself—a person who had never yet been moved by love was naturally incapable of understanding such things.

What sustained him through the performance was nothing more than the performers’ melodious singing, their exquisite makeup, their gestures that shifted from slow and languid to swift and urgent, and the carefully considered costumes and stage design.

He was seated beside Ying Jie’er, and all along he had a faint, persistent sense that some gaze was directed this way—yet when he looked around, each private box was dim and shadowy, and he could make out nothing.

He let it go, thinking he was probably being too sensitive.

When the performance ended, the audience was still not satisfied, so the troupe performed another piece, Farewell at Lin’an, which likewise drew tears of grief from all who heard it.

……

By the time the crowd dispersed, it was deep into the night. The two young girls, Ying Jie’er and Zhu Jie’er, were still in high spirits, discussing the plot of the opera back and forth with one another.

The servants had long since readied the carriages and were waiting for the family’s return.

What Pei Shaohuai had not anticipated was that an absurd complication could arise even when boarding the carriage—for one of the carriages had been taken by Old Master Pei, who had ridden ahead, leaving Lan Jie’er with no choice but to share a carriage with others. Moreover, because Ying Jie’er had talked back to her the last time, Lan Jie’er flatly refused to ride with either of her younger sisters.

In the end, only Huai Ge’er and Jin Ge’er could share a carriage with her.

The atmosphere inside the carriage was rather awkward. Huai Ge’er took the initiative to strike up a conversation with his younger brother, asking: “Jin, what did you think of tonight’s opera?”

“It was tolerable,” Jin Ge’er replied. “There is just one thing—both of these operas told stories of talented scholars and beauties, and in both, the scholar passed the examinations to claim the top rank… If I weren’t a student who knew how difficult studying truly is, I might think that reading was a simple matter, and that anyone could pass as Zhuangyuan without any effort.”

It was unexpected that Jin had arrived at such a sharp observation. Pei Shaohuai offered an explanation: “Scholars who write the scripts naturally write in favor of scholars.”

But Lan Jie’er cut their conversation short with a scoff, and was heard to say mockingly: “The two of you have only just learned to recognize a few characters, yet you dare to speak so grandly. Could you write a script that moves people the way this one does?”

Huai Ge’er and Jin Ge’er exchanged a glance, suppressing smiles. Knowing their second elder sister’s temperament, neither said another word.

Their carriage was at the very rear. The driver had just raised his whip, about to set off, when from outside the carriage came a sudden sound of retching, followed by a loud and prolonged splashing.

Pulling back the carriage curtain, they saw a richly dressed young man in a wretched state—emerging from somewhere unknown—leaning against the corner of the theater wall, vomiting wretchedly. He then staggered a few steps, slumped against one of the theater’s columns, and sat down, whether asleep or awake it was impossible to say.

Lan Jie’er covered her nose, and a look of disdain crossed her face. She was about to drop the curtain, but noticed that the young man’s clothing was remarkably fine. Fearing some trouble might arise, she thought it over and still directed the theater attendant outside: “Go and find out which household’s young master that is, and why he has not a single attendant with him.”

That attendant worked the front door of the theater and had a keen eye for such things. He returned promptly and reported: “In response to Second Young Miss—from the look of him, he appears to be the Second Young Master of General Situ’s household.” He then pointed toward Heshang Tower at the far end of the long street and said: “It seems he had too much to drink at Heshang Tower again and walked here on his own.”

It was likely not the first time the attendant had encountered this.

Lan Jie’er, quick-tongued as ever, asked again: “Is he the one who was brought back from the countryside just a few years ago?”

The attendant lowered his head and said nothing.

Lan Jie’er realized she had misspoken and quickly corrected herself: “Since he is Young Master Situ, bring him inside first and have someone attend to him, then send word to the general’s household and have someone come and fetch him home… The spring nights turn cold unexpectedly—we mustn’t let him fall ill out here in the street.”

“Yes, miss.”

Lan Jie’er dropped the carriage curtain. The carriage started slowly and moved further and further from the theater.

From inside the carriage, Pei Shaohuai had also craned his neck for a look at that young master Situ, though he did not know him. From what Lan Jie’er had said, the story behind this thoroughly drunk young master Situ appeared to have quite a tale to it.

……

……

The two brothers, Huai Ge’er and Jin Ge’er, had been studying on their own for several days now, but things could not continue this way indefinitely without a tutor to guide their reading and writing.

Old Master Pei had, over the past several days, interviewed many private tutors, and none had satisfied him. If the candidate was too unremarkable, he feared it would squander the two grandsons’ gifts; and yet, if he sought someone truly capable, talented teachers were exceedingly hard to find.

Just as Old Master Pei was at a loss, a messenger arrived from the household of Secretariat Director Pei with a message.

It was said that a senior academician from the Hanlin Academy had retired with honor and been retained by the Secretariat Director. A study hall had been established at the Director’s residence to give lessons, and thinking that the two grandnephews of the Earl’s Manor had reached the age for their elementary schooling, he wished to know whether they would be willing to come and study at the Director’s residence.

A study hall of such prestige was truly something that only the Director’s residence could offer. The senior academician would likely only have accepted the Secretariat Director’s request on account of an extraordinary personal relationship.

For consider—a senior academician of vast learning and talent, if he wished to teach and nurture students, had no shortage of celebrated academies courting him to serve as their chancellor. Why would he need to reside in the study hall of a private household?