Before Yan Chengzhao arrived at Taicang Prefecture, a letter came from Zhu Jie’er. The letter carried not even a trace of resentment; on the contrary, she urged her father to prioritize public duties and the people’s welfare. She wrote:

“…This person holds himself in high regard, proud and ambitious, yet he is still a man of his word — decisive and clean in his actions, without hesitation or evasion. It seems he has genuine ability when it comes to official matters, and is someone worth cooperating with…”

“…Your daughter has heard only fragments of what you have said, yet she understands that Taicang Prefecture is in urgent need of governance. Since the court has dispatched heavy troops south to patrol and apprehend, how can such a fine opportunity be missed? National affairs, public affairs, family affairs, and private affairs are separate things. Father must not let your daughter’s private matters cause you to neglect the affairs of the people and the state. You may act freely and without restraint…”

With Zhu Jie’er’s reply in hand, Pei Bingyuan’s heart was set at ease, and he formed his plans.

That evening, Lin Shi attended to Pei Bingyuan as he changed out of his robes, and the husband and wife chatted leisurely. Lin Shi said: “I am a woman of simple nature — my heart is always caught up in the household’s every detail, and I am governed by my own preferences. If this were my situation, I could not compare to Third Young Miss in her ability to see the greater picture, without even a trace of resentment…” Then, speaking of how Zhu Jie’er had managed the official estates and gardens with such orderly efficiency, Lin Shi continued with praise: “That kind of skill is not something just anyone can learn. You must think one step ahead and act decisively, with a firm grip on those beneath you.”

As she praised on, Lin Shi gradually fell silent, then let out a soft sigh.

“Why do you sigh, my Lady?”

Lin Shi replied: “Before she entered the palace, she followed behind me, learning skills, strong-willed by nature yet still with a few traces of innocence. Now that she has left the palace, judging from her letter, her thoughts are meticulous, her actions thorough, and she possesses a full arsenal of abilities — which shows she suffered greatly within the palace, enduring many hardships and trials… In this world, what skill can be learned without hardship? The greater the ability, the more suffering one has endured to attain it.”

Pei Bingyuan sank into deep thought — had he not acquired his current understanding of water management and farming through the hardships he endured in Yuchong County?

Over these years, his character had changed considerably, yet when it came to looking after his children, he was still far from being attentive enough.

Pei Bingyuan murmured: “Compared to her sisters, Zhu has indeed suffered far more… I, as her father, must properly make it up to her.”

He then asked: “Does my Lady have any good ideas?”

Lin Shi thought for a moment and replied: “I have no grand ideas. I only think that the Earl’s府 now has many more assets and properties — a hundred or so acres of land and a few shops are nothing to be lacking. Aside from what the noble patrons have bestowed, preparing Zhu’s dowry to be equal to that of the other three daughters would be just fine.”

Pei Bingyuan nodded and asked: “As for Zhu’s marriage — has there been any word from the capital?”

“Concubine Shen says there is a Yang household that seems promising. Lady Yang has already sent three calling cards.”

“The household of Earl Yang, the Deputy Minister of the Court of Judicial Review?” Among the capital officials, those who could be spoken of as the Yang household and had marriageable sons or grandsons were few.

“Precisely.”

……

Several days later, dozens of large hard-sail dark-tailed ships arrived off the coast of Jiangnan with their sails unfurled, followed closely by countless medium and small vessels — a vast, sweeping fleet, like flying fish coursing through the boundless sea, swimming together in formation.

On the largest treasure ship, a tiger’s head was carved at its prow. A man clad in a surcoat embroidered with qilin patterns across the shoulders, wearing a slender embroidered spring saber at his waist, stood at the bow of the ship. The sea wind blew fiercely, lifting his dark cloak and billowing it back behind him.

Who else could this be but Yan Chengzhao?

The sea breeze was briny and sharp. Yan Chengzhao closed his eyes at intervals, letting the wind wash over him, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It was said that along the southeastern coast of Jiangnan, Japanese pirates prowled the seas with impunity, and official and merchant vessels lived in constant dread each time they put out to sea, fearing encirclement and plunder by the pirates. There were also outlaws who had banded together into encampments, seizing islands and proclaiming themselves kings, repeatedly boarding vessels and raiding the shore — killing, seizing, and abducting — causing the common people immense suffering.

Yet what he had witnessed was entirely at odds with the rumors.

Since the fleet had departed from Jizhou Wharf and sailed southward, traveling at sea for several months, the expedition had not been entirely without results — but the pirate nests they had suppressed were all minor dens. With less than a quarter of the fleet’s warships and troop strength, they had swept them away with ease, with almost no fierce or prolonged engagements.

Why were the seas so calm?

If it were truly this calm, why would the Emperor have needed to make such a great display of force, dispatching hundreds of ships southward in such a magnificent procession?

The large ship slowly drew near the long quay of the wharf. After a brief pause, it settled steadily against the bank, and a long gangway was raised. Civil and military officials from the prefectures and counties, as well as the garrison commands, under the jurisdiction of Suzhou Prefecture and Songjiang Prefecture came without exception, awaiting the arrival of the commander of the coastal patrol.

Tracking down and suppressing Japanese pirates and bandits was a military matter, and the duty of welcoming and receiving the court-appointed general naturally fell primarily to the military garrison commands.

The Commander of the Zhenhai Guard — Lord Lin — had prepared supplies and provisions well in advance. After the fleet’s ships had all docked, he presented himself before Yan Chengzhao and said: “General, time is pressing. This subordinate has already readied the provisions and supplies, and awaits only your command for the Zhenhai Guard to board and deliver them.”

According to the fleet’s southern patrol plan, Yan Chengzhao was to sail as far south as the承宣布政使司 of Guangdong. The fleet would patrol back and forth along the southeastern coast, then return to the capital before winter to make their report. By this reckoning, the time he could linger in the Suzhou and Songjiang Prefecture area was not long.

By the customary practice, once the ships docked, the transfer of supplies and provisions should begin at once, so as not to delay the subsequent journey.

Looking toward the canal wharf, grey hemp sacks were stacked into small mountains, filled with rice, grain, fish, meat, fruits, and vegetables — a bounty far more generous than what any garrison post the fleet had stopped at along the way had provided. The military household soldiers stood in neat formation, awaiting the command to move. What Commandant Lin intended to offer as personal tribute to the General and Vice-General would naturally be mixed in among these sacks.

But unexpectedly, Yan Chengzhao replied: “There is no rush. The replenishment can wait a while longer.” Noticing that Commandant Lin looked slightly startled, Yan Chengzhao added: “The days at sea have been dull and monotonous. Having passed through this blessed land of Jiangnan, it would be a pity not to enjoy it.”

“Yes, the General speaks wisely.” Commandant Lin greeted him with a smile and replied: “This subordinate will make all necessary arrangements.” He assumed it was simply a noble young lord of the imperial Yan clan, using the title of General as a pretext to come and travel for pleasure — conveniently earning some military credit along the way.

In all the years of southern patrols, had any ever amounted to anything? It was always the same: the fleet arrived and the pirates hid; the fleet departed and the pirates reappeared to cause trouble once more.

For any lasting defense, it still had to depend on the garrison posts like his own to hold the territory. Commandant Lin had every reason to feel confident and untroubled.

……

……

Meanwhile, in the capital, the Shuntian Prefecture Office, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Ministry of Revenue had joined forces to conduct inspections of all the official estates in the capital region. A number of noble and meritorious households had been found to have various irregularities, and the court administered minor penalties.

As for those found to be entirely clean, with not a single problem uncovered — there were only two: Jingchuan Earl’s府 and Jinchang Marquis’s府.

When the noble households made inquiries, the news was remarkable: Jingchuan Earl’s third granddaughter, who had only recently left the palace, had already, at the very start of spring, thoroughly sorted through all the府’s official estates and gardens, and any estate manager who had been acting improperly had been reported to the authorities and dismissed.

It was impossible not to draw the admiring attention of the noble ladies throughout the capital region. The earlier rumors naturally collapsed on their own.

In the heat of summer, the Nanping Earl’s府 sent over a cartload of fresh honeydew melons — each one perfectly round and plump, looking cool and refreshing at a glance. The old matron who accompanied the cart had been sent with orders to deliver the melons, and she said they were to be counted as payment for the agreed-upon three-percent yield.

“With greetings to the Third Young Miss,” the old matron said. “The Earl says there are a few acres of melon fields on the estate, which also draw from the upstream river water, and that the agreed yield payment should rightly be made — only the honeydew melons from the melon fields have never been sold outright, so there is no convenient way to convert them into silver. The Earl has therefore sent this old servant to deliver some fresh honeydew melons as payment in kind, and hopes the Third Young Miss will not find this inadequate.”

A whole cartload of melons was worth far more than a three-percent yield.

“Please convey my thanks to your Earl.”

Since it had been agreed upon, and the other party had sent them with sincere intent, Zhu Jie’er simply accepted them without ceremony.

The melons were sweet and crisp — it was evident that every single one had been carefully selected. In the summer heat, Zhu Jie’er had someone distribute the melons to each courtyard.

What Zhu Jie’er had not anticipated was that in the Nanping Earl’s official estate, there was not only one melon field — there were also fruit gardens and vegetable gardens… and each time, the very finest produce was chosen and sent over.

Since dealings had begun, it was only natural to learn something about the other party. Zhu Jie’er had someone go out and gather information, and only then did she learn that this young Nanping Earl had not found it easy to grow to adulthood.

This young Earl went by the name Qiao Yunsheng, and was no more than twenty-some years of age. Since he had inherited the title so young, it meant his father and grandfather had died early, leaving the title to pass into his hands.

When Qiao Yunsheng was still a child, his father had been ordered to take up a post in Jiaodong. His mother accompanied him, but partway through the journey, they contracted miasma fever and both unfortunately perished. At the time, Qiao Yunsheng had just recovered from a cold and was not fit to travel a long distance, so he had remained in the capital in the care of his paternal aunt, and by fortunate chance escaped the calamity.

By the rules of inheritance, the title passed to nine-year-old Qiao Yunsheng. His second and third uncles were bitterly unwilling, yet they had no recourse. The Qiao family had not yet divided their household, and at that time Qiao Yunsheng was too young to manage the家, so the Earl’s府 properties and assets effectively fell into the hands of the two uncles.

A few years later, Qiao Yunsheng grew up and was able to make his own decisions — yet his two uncles still held tightly to the family assets and refused to relinquish them, claiming that their nephew was still young and of an unstable disposition, and that they were merely continuing to manage things on his behalf.

By now, Qiao Yunsheng had taken control of the Earl’s府 himself, but the properties and assets left behind by his father’s generation had likely barely any remnant left. Over more than ten long years, even the largest fortune could be squeezed entirely dry. As for the official estate lands inscribed on the iron voucher, there were established rules to follow, and the uncles would not have dared to take what belonged to their nephew — but the private shops, furnishings, and valuables not on the ledger could be quietly and gradually moved away, consumed through entertaining guests, or lost through mismanaged and failing businesses. Even an honest official would find it difficult to unravel the truth from falsehood in such matters.

What remained for Qiao Yunsheng was nothing but an empty府 and the official estate lands registered on the records.

By comparison, the Nanping Earl’s府 was even more impoverished than Jingchuan Earl’s府 had been more than ten years ago — how could official estate farmland alone sustain the dignity befitting an Earl’s府?

No wonder the curtains of that carriage were plain silk, without any ornamentation; no wonder the Nanping Earl had to personally go down to manage the estate himself; and no wonder there had been scarcely any news of the Nanping Earl’s府 in the capital over the past few years.

On this particular day, Zhu Jie’er went to a teahouse to purchase some tea leaves. As she stepped out of the building and was about to board her carriage, she vaguely sensed a gaze falling upon her from another direction. She turned her head abruptly — and caught sight of the Nanping Earl’s府 grey-blue plain-silk carriage happening to pass slowly along the street.

The man inside the carriage lightly lifted the curtain, his gaze drifting somewhat absently toward Zhu Jie’er’s graceful silhouette — slender form leaning at the railing, her simply dressed hair cool and faintly fragrant.

As Zhu Jie’er turned sharply, she met Qiao Yunsheng’s gaze directly. Qiao Yunsheng had no time to react — his gaze froze and he stood momentarily stunned, as though a small secret had been discovered and exposed. He hurriedly pulled his hand back and let the curtain fall, the remaining fabric swaying gently with the movement of the carriage.

After a few moments, he was seen hesitantly reaching out again. He lifted the curtain once more, the back of his neck flushed somewhat red. He gave an embarrassed smile,

bowed his head and made a gesture of salute toward Zhu Jie’er, as a sign of apology.

This time, Zhu Jie’er got a clear look at Qiao Yunsheng’s features: his brows and eyes were refined and free of any harsh edge, and his figure was slender and lean.

She had assumed that someone raised in such circumstances would have become deeply embittered and coldly detached — that was the only way to struggle and survive in such treacherous depths. Yet Qiao Yunsheng was clad in plain white garments, his face bearing a slightly pallid complexion, resembling a frail and bookish scholar.

His wretched experiences seemed not to have carved too many sharp edges into him. Perhaps he was easily contented, and had found a quiet peace in that.

It was merely a few glances through a carriage window — such a gesture was not overly offensive. Zhu Jie’er gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, then turned and boarded her own carriage and departed.