The Earl’s Manor was well-situated, but the residence itself was genuinely not very large, and now that there were more people in the household, it had grown rather crowded.

The bedchambers of the elder sisters had all been kept empty for them even though they had been married for many years.

Shaojin had married late in life and lived in the western Luoyu Courtyard — a small yard with few side rooms and no great garden, with only a cassia tree and a stone table with a few stone stools arranged around it.

Yang Shiyue said: “First, Luoyu Courtyard is truly too cramped. Once Second Elder Brother’s household grows by a few more people, they can only be arranged to live outside the manor — which is inevitably inconvenient. Second, once young Xu’er begins his studies, a quiet study ought to be set aside for him — and that needs to be planned for now. Expanding the courtyards and moving to a larger space is not something Second Elder Brother or his wife should have to be the first to bring up.”

Pei Shaohuai understood. In this world where proper order of seniority was observed at every turn, if Shaojin were to open his mouth as the younger brother and ask to move to a larger place, those servants who did not know the full circumstances might spread it about carelessly — and that would be damaging to Shaojin’s reputation.

If it were then distorted in the retelling into talk of the family dividing into separate households, that would be even more troubling.

“Shiyue, it is as always you who thinks of everything,” Pei Shaohuai said.

“Moreover, during these past few years that we were in the south, it was Second Elder Sister-in-law who helped Mother attend to all the large and small affairs of the household, keeping everything in excellent order. Now that we are back, she defers to me as the elder sister-in-law in all things and asks for my opinion before acting — she is both easy to get along with and capable. The more she is like this, the less I should constrain her and Second Elder Brother,” Yang Shiyue said. “Better to take advantage of this opportunity — the Mo family moving away — to refurbish the manor properly. Once it is larger, there will be more to manage, and the two branches of the family can each take charge of part of it; at year’s end, we settle the accounts together. That will give Second Elder Brother and his wife a little more room to breathe.”

Shaojin and Lu Yiyao were neither of them ordinary people — they needed space enough to be themselves.

Renovating the manor and dividing up the courtyards was no small undertaking; the work involved was considerable, and this was precisely why Yang Shiyue had specially sought out her husband to discuss it together.

Once the Mo family residence was purchased, the geomancy would first need to be properly arranged; what was to be torn down, torn down; what was to be built, built. Once the courtyards were finished, the various furnishings and household articles would be added; and only then would the dividing wall be knocked down and the two merged into one manor.

All in all, it would take the better part of a year and a half at least.

“I understand what my lady means — let us do as you say. As for Father and Grandfather and Grandmother, I will go and speak with them.” Pei Shaohuai replied, then shifted a little closer to Yang Shiyue’s side and put his arm around her, saying: “Don’t schedule the work too tightly — I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

Yang Shiyue felt his sleeve; it was damp with snow and ice-cold. She sniffed: “And you dare say that to me — the person who least knows how to look after himself is you. The moment you are busy with official matters, every reminder anyone has ever given you is forgotten entirely.” She rose to fetch him a dry change of clothes.

…

The two had settled the matter between themselves in private, and in a few days’ time told everyone else about purchasing the Mo family’s residence. The matter was thus decided.

Lu Yiyao made a special visit to thank her elder sister-in-law for it.

When the time came for arranging the geomancy and designing the courtyard gardens, Xiao Nan, Xiao Feng, and little Xu’er all became involved. Xiao Nan was fond of pavilions and covered walkways; Xiao Feng wanted to keep a small stream of living water that ran through the grounds; and little Xu’er wished to plant several pomegranate trees. The grown-ups granted them all their wishes.

Courtyard design is a matter of capturing the spirit of a thing rather than its literal form; Pei Shaohuai had little expertise in such matters and did not participate much — though he did help come up with several of the names: “Yinan Pavilion,” “Pinewood Wind Water Pavilion,” “Qingpu Lodge,” and the like.

Drifting snow weighed down the withered boughs, yet along the garden wall, the southern plum blossoms alone continued to bloom. On the day of the winter solstice, though the sky was heavy and the cold was biting, the Earl’s Manor was full of warmth and lively cheer, clouds of steam rising everywhere.

Yang Shiyue had arranged a family banquet, and Lu Yiyao, being skilled in the culinary arts, went into the kitchen herself to prepare various pastries and dishes. The whole family ate and chatted, wrapped in a warm and harmonious glow.

Xiao Feng took a snow jade cake and nibbled a small bite, an expression of pure bliss spreading across her face.

Snow jade cakes are made by steaming taro until soft, then pressing it through a sieve into a fine flour, combining pine nuts and crushed walnut kernels for the filling, and wrapping it in a skin made from cooked glutinous rice. The outside is rolled in a dusting of powdered sugar. They take their name from their resemblance to snow and jade.

But after only one bite, Xiao Feng set the pastry down, propped her cheek on her hand, and gazed out at the falling snow with a wistful expression.

“What is it?” Yang Shiyue asked.

“Something so delicious — I wonder if Yi’er can eat it in Wuchang Prefecture.” She was missing Yan Yi’er, it turned out.

This mood of gentle melancholy quickly spread to Xiao Nan as well.

Indeed — Xiao Nan and Xiao Feng had gone south when they were barely more than a year old and had grown up together with Yi’er. When they were in the Min region, every holiday and festival, the two families would gather to celebrate together.

This winter solstice, though the Earl’s Manor was livelier than ever before, to Xiao Feng, something still felt not quite right.

After hearing this, Pei Shaohuai said softly, coaxing them: “Once the ice melts in the lotus pond out back, and the river water begins to flow again at the docks outside the city gates — that is when Yi’er and the others will soon be on their way back.”

“Is it true?” Xiao Nan asked.

“When has Papa ever deceived you?”

Half a month before, a report had come in from Wuchang Prefecture saying that the clearing of land records had already begun, and that the occupied farmland would be returned to the peasants before spring. Calculated from that, Yan Chengzhao’s family ought to arrive in the capital sometime in the third or fourth month of the coming year.

In the deep cold and heavy snow of the winter solstice, the traditional time to gather with friends over wine — that high-cold and proud commander of the imperial guard, far away to the south: one wondered whether, on a night like this, he could find anyone to drink with.

Or perhaps he would leap onto a rooftop with a jug of wine in one hand and drink alone into the night?

The image of it came to Pei Shaohuai, and he could not help smiling. He poured himself a cup and drained it in one go, thinking: this counts as drinking together with Yan Chengzhao.

That evening, Pei Shaohuai had already made arrangements to meet Shaojin, several brothers-in-law, and Yancheng and Yangui, and find a quiet, refined spot for them all to gather — a rare occasion with everyone together in the capital.

…

With both Yang Shiyue and Lu Yiyao managing the Earl’s Manor, Lin Shi was able to enjoy a measure of leisure.

During this period, Lin Shi frequently went over to the Lin family home — for no other reason than that a grandnephew had come of age and it was time to arrange his marriage, and she as his great-aunt was going over to help with the planning.

At the Lin family residence, Lin Shiyun’s legitimate wife, Jiang Shi, now had hair that was half-white; her figure had grown more rounded than in her younger years. She was cheerfully taking out a document and handing it to Lin Shi, smiling so broadly that even her wrinkles seemed to soften. “This is the eight characters of birth that the Liang family sent over. I took them to the temple to have them matched — they align with Lu’er’s very well. This match is a good one.”

She had already gone to the Liang family to look the young woman over, and it was evident she was thoroughly satisfied with this future granddaughter-in-law.

Jiang Shi went on: “Ever since he took up his post in official service, Lu’er’s grandfather has been so busy he barely has time to breathe. His father spends every year sailing south on trading voyages. It is fortunate he still has you, such a capable great-aunt, to attend carefully to his affairs and see to the arrangements.”

Lin Shiyun, following Pei Shaohuai’s suggestion, had his eldest son, Lin Yuan, continue voyaging by sea for commerce, while his second son, Lin Yao, went north to trade with the Tartar tribes.

Trade with the Tartars was not for the sake of profit — in fact, it involved losses. This was work done on behalf of the court: using precious jewelry and ornaments to obtain draft horses from Tartar nobles. This served two purposes — it lulled the Tartar nobles into complacency, and it secured excellent breeding stock for Da Qing’s horse herds.

The Lin family had thereby become a merchant household with official ties, and Lin Shiyun held a minor post in the Northern Metropolitan Stud Office.

The Liang family daughter who was to marry the Lin family’s eldest grandson was a native of Daxing County in the capital region — the eldest legitimate daughter of her family. Her father served as a county magistrate in Baoding Prefecture; the family’s social standing was not particularly high.

Magistrate Liang had some acquaintance with Pei Bingyuan, and through this connection, Lin Shi had come to know of this young Liang woman and had put forward the match for her grandnephew.

“If sister-in-law is pleased, then that is what matters,” Lin Shi said. “Given the Lin family’s present circumstances, and the fact that the young man has already earned his licentiate degree, one could actually reach for one of the great houses here in the capital — it is not beyond possibility. Yet I felt that a great house, in sending a concubine-born daughter to the Lin family, might not have entirely pure intentions, and trouble at home would follow. So I set that idea aside.”

Lin Shi continued: “The Liang young lady is far better. She is her magistrate father’s first child; the family is not especially wealthy, yet she was raised with all the refinements of a good upbringing — learned, courteous, thorough in managing affairs. When she accompanied me to Fanyuan for the Six Arts Gathering, she faced all those young men and women of rank with composure and grace — that kind of character is truly rare.”

In Lin Shi’s view, what the Lin family needed now was not to climb into a great house through marriage, but to bring in a daughter-in-law who was learned and courteous and could manage the household well, educate the next generation well — and from there, the Lin family could continue to advance step by steady step.

If she were to use the Pei family name to help the Lin family form a union with a great house, the Lin family’s wealth and the Pei family’s influence would both become targets for other people’s scheming.

Jiang Shi could not read many characters, but she understood this reasoning perfectly well. She teased: “Only you have such a sharp eye — no wonder you found two such excellent daughters-in-law. You must be spending your days without a care now, sleeping as long as you like with no one to bother you.”

On the subject of Lin Xinglu’s licentiate degree, Jiang Shi said: “The Lin family has sent every one of its children to school, yet over all these years, only Lu’er has managed to achieve something of note. He failed in the last autumn provincial examination, and the setback hit him hard — he shut himself in his room, and his grandfather gave him a fierce scolding, saying ‘you cannot expect to grow fat in a single bite; you can only do it gradually. If you let yourself become anxious, all you’ll get is a swollen face pretending to be fat.’ And then he said, ‘if you have time to mope about, you’d be better off studying your Second Granduncle-in-Law’s essays carefully — it’s not something most people could even hope for.'”

The words were crude, but the reasoning sound — which showed that Lin Shiyun and Lin Shi, this brother and sister, had something of the same way of thinking.

After finishing the conversation about the grandnephew’s marriage, Lin Shi asked: “Has Elder Sister been over to make trouble recently?”

Jiang Shi heaved a sigh: “Those two of theirs have never once let up — it’s always the same old routine. The elder sister’s husband is a man of sixty, and he actually went to your elder brother’s office and caused a scene, insisting that Shiyun get him an official position through the purchase of office — and that he wouldn’t come to make trouble anymore if it was agreed to. Your elder brother was so furious he hired two men to carry him away…” Jiang Shi waved her hand. “Today is a day for happiness; let us not speak of such things. Just remember to keep your guard up.”

The Lin family back in the day was only modestly well off. The Lin family’s eldest daughter had married a poor licentiate, thinking life would be good — yet it turned out she had chosen the wrong man: this was a person of no great ability yet an overweening opinion of himself.

What bewildered the Lin family even more was that the eldest daughter somehow managed to live her life alongside him — and used the pretext of having suffered injustice in her own marriage to find ways to extract money from her natal family.

Lin Shi sighed: “At their age, and still no peace.”

…

With the winter solstice past, the twelfth month arrived in the blink of an eye.

Pei Shaohuai was busy and occupied at the Bureau of Merit Assessments, and found that the days seemed to pass with unusual speed.

On the eighth day of the twelfth month, when Pei Shaohuai was leaving his post and heading home at the end of the day, the sky was still bright. He lifted the carriage curtain to let in some air, and caught sight of a familiar figure quite by chance. He called the carriage to a halt and was just about to pursue when the person disappeared — he had no idea down which alley he had turned.

Jiang Ziyun was posted in Jiaodong — how could he appear in the capital? Had he been mistaken?

Yet the figure, the gait — they were far too similar. What were the odds of such a coincidence?

The next day, Pei Shaohuai had Chang Zhou go and make inquiries, and learned that Jiang Ziyun was indeed in the capital — his grandmother had passed away, and he had left his post to observe mourning for one year, the mourning period due to expire the following spring.

Pei Shaohuai deliberated at length before finally writing out a card and having Chang Zhou deliver it, inviting Jiang Ziyun to meet him at a teahouse. The very reason he sent this card was precisely because Jiang Ziyun, knowing that Pei Shaohuai was in the capital, had made no move to seek him out — had in fact been somewhat avoiding him. A person like Ziyun, he knew, simply did not want to be a burden.

Ziyun was the same as he had always been.

At the teahouse, hot tea rose in wisps of steam; the private room was quiet and secluded.

Jiang Ziyun arrived first. Pei Shaohuai was held up a moment at his post and arrived one beat later.

Old classmates and dear friends — of different origins yet alike in their aspirations — meeting again after seven years had passed, with memories of their parting still as vivid as yesterday.

Past thirty now, Jiang Ziyun had begun to grow a beard, lending him a weathered quality. He was still as lean as ever.

“Years apart, and Huai has lost none of his bearing.”

The two exchanged bows, Pei Shaohuai took his seat, and said: “Ziyun was in the capital and knew I had returned from the Min region — if I hadn’t happened to catch a glimpse of you that day, would you really have intended to go on avoiding me?”

“I had actually written a card and then could not bring myself to send it,” Jiang Ziyun admitted with some embarrassment. “Jiang — a minor official who has left his post for mourning and is awaiting reassignment — learned that Huai had entered the Bureau of Merit Assessments. How could I have chosen this particular moment to invite Huai to meet, only to bring Huai slander and trouble?”

Over the course of conversation, it became apparent that Jiang Ziyun’s luck had been genuinely poor.

The place he had been posted to was not particularly impoverished, and over the years, he had accumulated no great achievements, but small ones steadily: he had helped the local people wipe out mountain bandits, had managed the silting of rivers, had opened up wasteland for cultivation. His record of accomplishments was creditable. The trouble had come at the end of his six-year evaluation period: his grandmother, elderly and advancing in years, had been struck by a chill and had held on with her last breath for her grandson’s sake — but in the end, she had not been able to outlast the cold of that spring.

As the rules required, Jiang Ziyun left his post and returned home to observe mourning for one year. In doing so, the six years of merit he had accumulated were not presented at the time of his evaluation — and had even been counted toward someone else’s record.

When his mourning period ended and the court reassigned him, it would be an entirely different situation: starting over from the beginning.