Qiao Yunsheng knew how much his wife cherished this “enterprise.” Even while carrying the child, she had gone about asking how to cultivate cotton and collecting weaving tools. Once the weaving workshop was established, she led a group of retired female palace officials everywhere, persuading farmers to grow cotton and weavers to join the workshop, teaching them a skill to sustain themselves.

“Perhaps we can stall a little longer — why must Madam be in such a rush?” Qiao Yunsheng urged.

Once everyone was dismissed, gathering them again would be difficult.

“No need.” Pei Ruozhu replied with resolve. “The Empress is making things difficult for me — there is nothing to be gained for her in that. So it must be aimed at my two younger brothers.”

Of all the bonds in this world, none compares to that of brothers and sisters. On the eve of her entry into the palace, her brothers had seen her off, and she had made a vow — that one day, she would do everything in her power to light a fire for them too.

As long as she proactively disbanded the workshop, no one could use it against them.

A few days later, the female palace officials who had followed Pei Ruozhu gathered at the capital’s weaving workshop. They assumed it was the same as every year — a banquet of triumph before the year’s end, with bonuses distributed to those below.

Finely sliced fish with pale white flesh, fragrant red-tailed fish stew, lavish dishes in bronze vessels — the food and wine on the table were even more abundant than in previous years.

None of them knew it was a farewell banquet, not a celebration.

When Pei Ruozhu announced her decision, the table fell into stunned silence. The dishes lost their fragrance; the wine turned tasteless.

“This year’s harvest was poor. I owe everyone their bonuses. Let each of you take one of the workshop’s looms as compensation, calculated in silver.” Pei Ruozhu said by way of excuse.

These new-style looms were worth far more than any bonus.

As long as they had the looms, they could set up weaving again wherever they went.

Pei Ruozhu raised her wine cup. Dressed in a pleated skirt, she carried herself with a remarkable bearing and said: “No matter how large a weaving workshop, it cannot compare to one of your own. You all know how to grow cotton, weave cotton, and use cotton — what difference does it make where you ply your trade? Why be bound by whether we are gathered together or scattered to different places?”

In ancient times, “parting ways” meant dismantling the shared hearth and going one’s separate direction. Today’s parting was more like scattering embers.

Scattered sparks to light up the world.

A few days later, three of the older female palace officials knocked at the side gate of the Nanping Earl’s residence, requesting an audience with the Countess.

“We have received Madam’s care all these years and are deeply grateful. Before leaving, we wished to express our sincerest thanks. Knowing Madam lacks for nothing, we thought long and hard, and everyone went to the homes of elderly folk in various villages to collect scraps of cloth, which we pieced together into a few sets of garments. We hope that when the young heir wears them, he will receive the blessings of a hundred families — fortune upon fortune.” The eldest of the female palace officials said. “Our needlework is no match for Madam’s. Please do not think less of it.”

“Begging rice from fragrant temples, cutting cloth to learn the pattern of flooded fields” — whether it was rice from a hundred households or a patchwork garment, both were meant to bring a child extra blessings.

On top was a garment with an offset front opening and a broad lapel, shaped like a Taoist robe, with colorful diamond-patterned fabric panels sewn together, giving it a bright and lively look.

Pei Ruozhu touched it and saw that each stitch was made as three — dense and firm. She didn’t know how many late nights they had burned through to piece these garments together.

Her bond with the weavers had begun with cloth, and would “end” with cloth.

As for the young heir Qiao Qingshan, Pei Ruozhu had indeed been somewhat neglectful of him over the years, having devoted so much of her attention to the weaving workshop and its affairs. Fortunately, Qiao Yunsheng was not one who liked to go out socializing — he helped her manage the workshop while also taking on the daily care of little Qingshan, freeing her mind from those concerns.

It was not that Pei Ruozhu had intentionally neglected the child. It was that Qiao Yunsheng had been attentive and capable enough on his own.

The basket contained several patchwork garments in different lengths and sizes, enough for the young heir to wear from age five to age ten. Pei Ruozhu accepted the basket and said: “You have all worked so hard. This is wonderful — I love it dearly.”

……

Then came the evening the Emperor hosted a banquet for his ministers.

Da Qing’s treasury was full, and the wine at this year’s banquet was exceptionally rich — nothing like the insipid water-like wine of years past. The Emperor had once said that “brewing wine harms farming,” and so the palace kept its wine expenditures tightly in check.

Tonight was an exception, granted outside the usual rules.

Pei Shaohuai had distinguished himself greatly, and was frequently toasted throughout the banquet — he could not help but drink several extra cups. After the banquet, as was customary, he was kept behind by the Emperor for a private session of Go over a few boards, as the mood called for it.

“That move of yours was brilliant, Boyuan — one stone laid to break the deadlock. Let us drink together.”

“Your Majesty’s move was no less impressive — a hidden path suddenly opens, and a whole stretch of stones is taken. Your subject raises a cup to Your Majesty.”

Two devoted Go enthusiasts praising each other back and forth — after all the toasting, both the ruler and his minister had drunk past their limit. The usually dignified Emperor was letting out quiet hiccups, while Pei Shaohuai, who was ordinarily composed and unruffled, had flushed cheeks and had rolled up one of his sleeves.

“Boyuan — wine gives a man courage. While that courage is high, tell me: what do you wish for? I will grant it to you. A ruler does not speak in jest.” No imperial edict had been prepared at the table this time — the Emperor simply asked outright.

Pei Shaohuai curled the corner of his mouth and laughed softly. “Is Your Majesty out of drink? Is that why you’re trying this tactic on your subject?” He filled the Emperor’s cup first, then poured one for himself. “Your subject wishes to share one more cup with Your Majesty. I only hope… that across the four seas the rice blossoms bloom with fragrance, that come autumn the granaries be filled to the brim — with grain aplenty and wine in abundance, so that Your Majesty and your subjects need not hold back when sitting down to play and drink together.”

The Emperor drained his cup in one go, exhaled a breath of wine, and laughed freely. “I asked you what you wanted, and yet you spoke of what I wanted… You’ve grown ever more cunning since the years apart. A self-imposed penalty cup for you.”

He added: “Since it is something both you and I desire, I ask that Boyuan help me achieve it.”

“With pleasure.” — not “Your subject obeys.”

They drank heartily, yet with restraint. When the Emperor noticed that Pei Shaohuai’s Go moves had become erratic, he knew it was time to bring the session to a close.

Chief Eunuch Xiao stepped in at just the right moment. “Your Majesty, the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s carriage is already waiting outside the gate.”

The Emperor gave a nod.

Two Embroidered Uniform Guards then entered and carefully supported Pei Shaohuai as they escorted him out of the Imperial Study.

The Emperor thought for a moment, then called Chief Eunuch Xiao back. The Emperor’s face showed a flush of intoxication, but his mind remained sharp and clear. He said: “After the incident at Kunning Palace, gossip and rumors have been multiplying in the court. This way — make a trip yourself, and accompany the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s carriage to see Boyuan safely back to his residence.”

“This old servant obeys.”

Xiao Jin asked: “Will Your Majesty be resting in Qianqing Palace tonight as well?”

The Emperor nodded, waved his hand, and said: “Go quickly and return soon.”

The Embroidered Uniform Guard’s carriage appeared entirely in dark shades on the outside — dark wood, dark curtains, even the horses were a dark chestnut-black — yet the addition of crimson embroidered patterns lent it an inexplicably weighty and distinguished air.

Dark paired with crimson — these were the colors of the Emperor’s ceremonial robes.

“His Majesty has already offered a reward, and Lord Pei has yet to accept it. This is an opportunity many people seek.” Inside the carriage, Chief Eunuch Xiao made idle conversation with the slightly inebriated Pei Shaohuai.

“We spoke of this before my journey south. Why does Chief Eunuch Xiao ask again?”

“This old servant means nothing by it — I am simply on familiar terms with Lord Pei, and so I speak up on your behalf.” Chief Eunuch Xiao let slip: “Following the incident at Kunning Palace, the Emperor has not visited the Empress these past several days.”

Faced with Chief Eunuch Xiao’s gesture of goodwill, Pei Shaohuai kept his eyes closed and said plainly: “This is not something you or I should be discussing. Chief Eunuch Xiao, please be careful.” Each word was crisp and clear — not the least bit muddled from drink.

“This old servant has overstepped.” A note of faint regret crept into his tone. He was not a rash or careless man; his repeated gestures of goodwill seemed driven by some underlying urgency.

They arrived at the Pei residence.

The Earl’s residence was brightly lit, its lights casting a warm glow over the gently approaching Embroidered Uniform Guard carriage. Everyone in the household was still awake, waiting for Pei Shaohuai’s return.

“The guest has been delivered. This old servant will return and report to His Majesty.” Chief Eunuch Xiao bowed with a smile.

It was a closer encounter this time, and Lin Shi observed Chief Eunuch Xiao’s expression more carefully. Once again, she noticed his gaze lingered on her for just a moment longer than necessary, and he offered her a bow, with a benevolent smile on his face.

Lin Shi could not understand. A man capable of remaining at the Emperor’s side was surely a shrewd old fox of the highest order — what could he possibly stand to gain from a plain official’s wife like herself? If this goodwill was genuine, where could it be coming from? It could hardly be without reason.

Lin Shi thought carefully, but still could not figure out what connection she had ever had with Chief Eunuch Xiao. Lost in thought, she forgot to conceal her expression, and Chief Eunuch Xiao noticed.

So Chief Eunuch Xiao said to Lin Shi: “It is known throughout the capital that Madam Pei treats her children with the nurturing warmth and benevolence of Mu Jiang — this is deserving of respect.” His meaning was that his regard came from Lin Shi herself.

The compliment spoke of Lin Shi’s care for her children — but it did not refer solely to her own biological children. There was more beneath the surface of those words.

Mu Jiang was the second wife of the Han dynasty man Cheng Wenju. His first wife had borne him four sons; Mu Jiang bore him two. Cheng Wenju died while serving in an official post, and the four sons of the first wife grew increasingly cold toward Mu Jiang with each passing day. Later, when the eldest son fell gravely ill, Mu Jiang was moved by compassion — she personally prepared medicinal meals and cared for him attentively until he recovered.

The four sons of the first wife reflected on themselves and came to their senses. They went to the local authorities to report their own unfilial conduct, and Mu Jiang’s name was spread far and wide.

Mu Jiang went on to live to the age of eighty.

Chief Eunuch Xiao was invoking the story of Mu Jiang to praise Lin Shi for treating well the two daughters born of Ning Shi, as well as the children born of the concubines.

Receiving praise, yet uncertain whether to believe it, Lin Shi smiled with modest grace and replied: “It is all because the children are each so accomplished. I am a simple, unlearned woman — how could I dare compare myself to the name of Mu Jiang?”

With others present, it was not the moment to say more. Chief Eunuch Xiao gave a slight bow and took his leave, boarding the carriage.

At that moment, Pei Shaohuai, taking advantage of his intoxicated state, lifted the carriage curtain and gave a parting instruction: “On the road back to the palace, Chief Eunuch Xiao — please take your time.”

“I am grateful for Lord Pei’s concern.”

……

After the imperial banquet came the New Year celebrations.

The Pei household this year was fuller and more lively than any year before. Even Situ Yang and Pei Ruolan, who had been stationed at Shanhai Pass, came home. From New Year’s Eve through the Lantern Festival, the household was jubilant day after day — there was no end to the topics of conversation.

Little Nan and Little Feng were the most delighted — when they had spent New Year’s in Fujian, they received red envelope money only from Uncle Yan and Countess Zhao. But back in the capital, there were grandparents, a second uncle and second aunt, as well as aunts and uncles-in-law. When visiting relatives, they went to the Yang family first, and then also to the Lin family.

Each of the elders gave their “New Year’s gifts” in their own distinct way.

Brother-in-law Xu Zhan was old-fashioned — he gave red string coins. Gold-cast plum-blossom coins, each with a hole through the center, threaded eight to a single red string. One set for each younger family member — even Shaohuai and Shaojin received one.

And before receiving the red string coins, one was required to recite a verse of good wishes.

Brother-in-law Situ Yang was far less fussy about the formalities — with his characteristic straightforwardness, he declared: “Qianting, open the crate your father brought back. Let your elder sister, younger brothers, and sisters pick something out for themselves — whatever catches their eye.”

Situ Qianting had inherited his father’s brute strength. Without asking the servants for help, he hoisted the crate on his own with no effort at all. When it was opened, it was full of rare curiosities from beyond the passes north of the fortress — the kind ordinary people could not get their hands on.

Brother-in-law Qiao Yunsheng had prepared gold ingots — two for each person, delivered directly, with a clarifying note: “The larger ingot is from your Third Aunt. The smaller one is from me.”

The Fourth Brother-in-law had also prepared small gold ingots. He said: “I will give you some arithmetic problems to solve. For each one you get right, you may take one gold ingot. How does that sound?”

Little Nan and Little Feng agreed at once. They had little interest in the gold ingots themselves — but they were very curious about the arithmetic problems their Fourth Uncle was going to pose.

When they went to the Lin family to pay their New Year’s respects, the generosity was even greater — the eldest maternal great-uncle liked to give gold, the first and second maternal uncles liked to give gold, and the many elder male cousins also liked to give gold. This habit ran in one unbroken line from generation to generation.