Yu Qixia had once asked her, “Does Your Highness trust the prince?”
Wanwan found this question difficult to answer. She had always harbored doubts about him, but facts proved that each time it was her own petty suspicions. When she had been confined in Beijing, so lost and disappointed, he gave her hope and rescued her from the abyss. She had imagined what would have happened if, during Prince Ding’s rebellion, he had betrayed the court and betrayed her—perhaps she would have only been able to quietly await the outcome, either the city’s fall or his execution… She would have had to face a dilemma either way, but ultimately he hadn’t.
Her circumstances determined her mindset. Sometimes it wasn’t that she couldn’t think of possibilities, but simply that she was unwilling to believe them. As an observer watching the situation deteriorate, seeing the realm’s fate hanging in balance between two sides, Yu Qixia desperately wanted to warn her that Liang Shi had employed counter-espionage tactics in Prince Ding’s case, abandoning the plot at the crucial moment perhaps only because the timing wasn’t yet ripe. With Prince Ding’s death, there were no more princes south of the southeast, and vast armies had fallen into his hands—his resources now exceeded even the court’s. Everything had two sides: she saw the good, but as the strategist left by Xiao Zhangyin to protect her, he saw the sinister. Now with the mansion’s retainers completely swept away, this only reinforced his conviction. The Chang Wei’s salaries were actually limited—an Imperial Guard commander like Jin Shi, a fifth-rank official, received only sixteen shi of grain monthly. The subordinate lieutenants and strongmen earned even less. Typically, one meal at a prince’s mansion could cover their annual salary. Unable to support personnel? How could it come to this!
Unable to intervene in the retainers’ departure, he began considering what would truly be best for the Grand Princess.
She had already endured enough tribulations. A princess, cherished in the emperor’s palm since childhood, facing such turbulent fate after marriage was beyond his expectations. Prince Nanyuan had spoken truly—the rebelling frontier troops cared not who sat on the throne; his current feelings matched theirs exactly. If silence would benefit her more, then he would choose silence. When a dynasty’s time came to an end, her individual efforts couldn’t reverse anything. He would rather she remain well, not waste her life in vain, and calmly accept when heaven and earth turned upside down—this would benefit her most. Though acceptance would be difficult.
He found Jin Shi and shared his thoughts: “This is merely my speculation without concrete evidence—hopefully I’m overthinking. Now only you eight remain in the mansion. Though we usually drink and make merry together, from today forward, be alert and jointly protect the Grand Princess’s safety. Regarding outside affairs, unless the Grand Princess orders it, we won’t interfere. But within the princess mansion, if anyone dares disrespect Her Highness, draw your Embroidered Spring Knives and kill them completely—show no mercy.”
Yu Qixia’s eyes glinted coldly; the usually humble and obedient inner chamberlain now seemed as tragic and stirring as a war song.
“Please set your mind at ease, Lord Yu.” Jin Shi raised his hands high in salute. “This servant swears to protect the Grand Princess’s wellbeing unto death.”
Dark currents layered like waves outside the second gate, while inside remained a scene of splendid prosperity.
After New Year passed, the weather gradually warmed. Small children were sleepy, but their waking periods grew relatively longer. Wanwan was like tending flowers, watching day by day as they sprouted and grew—finally raising Dong Li into a chubby baby like those holding fish in New Year paintings.
When Yun Wan came to see the child, holding him in her arms with surprise: “He was like a sickly kitten when just born—you’ve cared for him so wonderfully!” She thanked Wanwan profusely: “My lady, how can I express my gratitude? You dote on our boy so much…”
Wanwan laughed: “I must live up to your trust. If I raised your son thin, I couldn’t face you.”
Tala Shi bowed deferentially in flattery: “Our young consort misses the child at the prince’s mansion. I often tell her—how could Her Highness not love her own grandson? Seeing him today, she can finally be at ease, right?”
Yun Wan smiled bashfully: “It’s not that I don’t trust you, my lady—I just worry and fret. When he’s not before my eyes, I feel anxious.”
“The dowager consort misses the young lord too. She’s suffered leg ailments these past days and originally planned to come with us.” Tala Shi continued: “If Your Highness permits, we could take the boy back for the dowager to see. We’d return him in the evening—the young lord might sleep poorly away from you.”
Hearing they wanted to take the child away, Wanwan felt somewhat sad but couldn’t say anything, only replying: “Children shouldn’t travel at night—he might catch evil influences. Return him while the sun’s still up. Please convey my apologies to the dowager consort—today I must pay respects to Empress Xiaoxian De, so I won’t visit to pay my respects. Please tell the old lady to take care of herself. Leg ailments are no trivial matter—she should have the imperial physicians examine her carefully.”
Tala Shi curtsied in acknowledgment, and she and the young lady happily carried the young lord away.
The mansion’s paths wound in countless turns, being a former imperial temporary palace with scenery at every step. In spring the scenery was perfect—passing through a moon gate, they glimpsed a corridor with a parrot hanging beneath it, the golden birdcage against swaying banana plants like a painted scene.
She turned to ask the leading maidservant: “That courtyard looks so secluded—did the two lords live there when they came?”
The maid said no: “That’s the prince’s study—outsiders aren’t usually permitted entry.” Speaking thus, she led them into the sedan hall.
Without Dong Li, Wanwan felt extremely bored. After paying respects to her parents, she leaned by the window embroidering. Looking at the pouches and sachets she’d previously made for Liang Shi, they seemed outdated—she might as well remake them, having nothing else to do anyway.
She traced patterns, slowly sewing stitch by stitch, her heart preoccupied with the child. Every little while she checked the Western clock: “Spring winds are strong—don’t let Dong Li catch cold…”
Tonghuan turned back: “Rest assured, Your Highness. The young lady is his birth mother—how could she not care for the child properly?”
Xiao You grumbled: “Next time they come for the young lord, we won’t let them take him. Since he’s being raised here, by rights they shouldn’t even be allowed to see him. Where’s the logic in taking him away at will? Your Highness isn’t their nursemaid, caring for their child for free!”
But what could be done? Ultimately he belonged to them—she was merely borrowing him. When the boy grew up, loving his own mother would be natural instinct. She was of the grandmother generation—could she really fight for the child?
“If only I had my own, why would I need to raise others’…” she said dejectedly, rising to put away all the embroidery and lock it in a case.
How was the war situation progressing? She hadn’t inquired for a month or two until remembering today. Summoning Yu Qixia to ask, he said: “The army departed on the twenty-sixth of last month. Mostly infantry with slow progress—I estimate they’ve reached Hejian Prefecture by now.”
“Is the court dispatching troops? Where will they rendezvous with the Andong Guard army?”
Yu Qixia bowed: “Presumably at Tianjin. The capital’s garrison numbers over a hundred thousand, stationed around the city. Mustering and assembling troops, they’ll converge at Tianjin, pass through Datong Prefecture, follow Dongsheng City to Kaiping Guard, then directly take Sacha River Guard.”
She nodded thoughtfully: “Good that they’re bypassing the capital… Two hundred thousand troops at the city gates would be most improper.”
Yu Qixia looked up at her. She said nothing more, turning to tend her flowers and plants.
They returned Dong Li very late. Wanwan had thought he’d probably stay at the prince’s mansion tonight, but unexpectedly they arrived at lamplight. Tala Shi apologized repeatedly: “The old aunt from Ningbo came and insisted on adding blessings to the young lord. She sent servants shopping, delaying us a full hour—it worried this servant terribly. Your Highness waited so long! Forgive me, it’s all this servant’s fault…” She placed Dong Li in Wanwan’s arms, speaking in the child’s voice: “The young lord missed you too! He wouldn’t nurse all afternoon—only feels secure by your side.”
Wanwan’s dissatisfaction vanished upon holding the child again. She casually asked Yun Wan: “Has the young master written home? Where has he reached now?”
Yun Wan, being guileless, replied: “Yesterday we received a family letter saying they’d just departed.”
Wanwan was puzzled—how was this different from her expectations? There was a full month’s discrepancy—how strange. Of course there was nothing worth pursuing; commanding large armies wasn’t easy, and delays were normal. After chatting briefly, they took their leave and returned to the prince’s mansion.
She held Dong Li under the lamp to examine him. He was blowing bubbles, his clear, spotless eyes gazing at her. Though still very young, he could recognize people. Wanwan melted with tenderness at his gaze, bending to kiss his cheek: “Did you really miss me? Not eating or drinking all afternoon—weren’t you hungry?”
She quickly summoned the wet nurse, who lifted her clothing to expose large breasts. Seeing the young lord suckling, she laughed: “My precious little master, such a tiny person yet understanding everything! At that mansion he wouldn’t eat or sleep, fussing all afternoon. Now he’s back, seeing you makes him comfortable at last.”
Wanwan also laughed, feeling indescribable comfort and warmth at being so missed by a child.
When Liang Shi returned, he brought her a bowl of bean curd. She was already in bed but he woke her, saying this was a flavor from his childhood. He hadn’t seen the tofu maker for over twenty years but encountered him today at the government office. He eagerly carried a bowl across half of Nanjing city to bring it to her.
The bean curd was sprinkled with brasenia shoots and drizzled with sesame oil. Wanwan tasted it—for people accustomed to delicacies like them, this bean curd wasn’t particularly special. What he treasured were childhood memories.
He leaned on his knees asking: “Is it good?”
She nodded: “Very good.”
He smiled with childlike satisfaction, feeling great achievement in sharing something he liked with her.
“I feared it would cool, so I wrapped it in my cloak and held it against my chest bringing it back.” He touched the bowl: “Is it still warm enough? Should I have it reheated?”
In early spring weather, after such a long journey, it had indeed cooled slightly. Not wanting to spoil his mood, she said it was perfect: “Too hot and you can’t taste the flavor.” She fed him spoonfuls, and they finished it together, bite by bite.
He went to wash up, and after tidying himself lay back beside her. She noticed his tired expression and asked gently: “Are you very busy at the office?”
He hummed acknowledgment, closing his eyes and reaching to embrace her: “Gathering provisions—even emptying all granaries isn’t enough…” Fearing her worry, he continued: “Don’t worry, what kind of person am I? I have plenty of methods.”
Wanwan nestled in his arms. His breathing steadied and he quickly fell asleep. When she woke, his side was empty again—coming and going in such haste, too busy for other concerns.
Her constitution was weak; sitting briefly in a draft one day, by evening she developed fever. Liang Shi happened to be busy with official duties and didn’t return all night. She endured until morning, burning in delirium. Tonghuan discovered her condition when opening the bed curtains, hastily summoning imperial physicians for prescriptions. After one dose of medicine she showed no improvement. Xiao You wanted to inform the prince, but she stopped her: “It’s nothing serious—I’ll be fine after sweating it out. He’s busy—don’t disturb him.”
Tala Shi came delivering newly made pastries and, encountering this situation, felt duty-bound to help, bustling about attentively. Wanwan wasn’t accustomed to strangers’ service and repeatedly urged her not to trouble herself, but she remained enthusiastic, using wine to rub Wanwan’s palms and soles, saying earnestly: “Your Highness mustn’t be formal—serving you is this servant’s proper duty. When you’re not at the prince’s mansion, this servant wants to show devotion but lacks opportunity. Since I happened to come today, please honor this servant. When you’re healthy again, I can report to the dowager consort.”
Seeing she couldn’t refuse, Wanwan was helpless. Tala Shi was particularly skilled with medicinal wine applications, and after her ministrations, Wanwan indeed felt some relief. She’d expected such dedication aimed at seeing Liang Shi, but unexpectedly Tala Shi requested leave before dark: “It’s getting late today. I see Your Highness’s fever has broken and your face isn’t flushed—a night’s sleep should improve things further. Please rest—this servant will return tomorrow. When you’re completely well, I’ll be at ease.”
Wanwan had Xiao You escort her out. When Xiao You returned, she clicked her tongue: “This person really acts like a filial child or devoted grandchild. Previously I didn’t think much of her, but unexpectedly she proved useful in crisis. Thinking about it, she’s rather pitiful too—scratching out a living before masters. No matter how successful her son becomes, she’s only there to watch the excitement.”
Such was the insecurity of concubines—forever servants before the primary wife. She endured it well, kneeling to hold feet with such humility that among all the secondary consorts, only she could achieve such self-abasement.
Wanwan said nothing. When mentioning this to Liang Shi, he only cared about her health—who had served her wasn’t his concern. Men had eyes only for one person, appearing cold toward other women. Sometimes Wanwan wondered how she would cope if someday their love ended and she found herself in Tala Shi’s position.
Putting herself in others’ shoes, she treated Tala Shi more warmly. Seeing her long-term respectful diligence, which wasn’t easy, she showed her a pleasant face when she came. Getting along, this person was acceptable—not the type to spread gossip or make trouble for others.
She often said: “Our being allowed to stay is truly Your Highness’s grace. When the prince married a princess, he should have expelled all three of us from the mansion. When Your Highness arrived without harsh treatment, even granting us meals, we’re grateful from our hearts. Not hiding anything, when Your Highness first entered, we all feared you—such noble status, your lifted foot higher than our heads. Later observing from afar, you truly have a good temperament. And our young master often speaks of your kindness, so Zhou Shi and I grew bolder, daring to move about before you… Your constitution is somewhat weak, but that’s fine—good care can improve anything. The physician said all five organs and six viscera are reflected under the feet. When something’s wrong, massaging the soles treats illness or strengthens health. You know I formerly washed the dowager’s feet among all those servant girls—I’m the most shameless, yet the old lady depends on me most. I wash her feet and massage pressure points. It hurts initially, but enduring it brings total body relief afterward. If Your Highness doesn’t mind, shall I try massaging you?”
Wanwan felt extremely embarrassed by such devotion: “You’re a person of rank—I appreciate your kindness, but that’s unnecessary. I couldn’t explain it to the young master later.”
Tala Shi exclaimed: “The young master knowing we get along well would only delight him! Speaking presumptuously, among all the rear courtyard women, this servant has the deepest connection with you. Look—the young master was given to you, and now the young lord troubles you too. This servant’s face shines brightly. This servant is lowly and can’t repay you properly—doing rough work for you is my honor.”
Seeing her sincere expression, Wanwan couldn’t refuse her intentions, but one must guard against others. Having her help with washing faces and massage was still acceptable, but regarding food, Tonghuan and Xiao You were very careful, basically not letting her handle anything.
Tala Shi knew her place, not dining at the same table even when staying for meals. Accompanying conversation for entertainment and playing with the child together, they maintained both closeness and distance, each comfortable.
She had another virtue—not approaching the men, avoiding jealousy. Respectfully advancing and retreating, seemingly harboring no other schemes.
Wanwan loved raising birds, with over ten cages arranged in rows, creating commotion at daybreak. Tala Shi helped feed the birds, wondering: “Mixing them together—aren’t you afraid they’ll soil their beaks? Better to separate them. Thrushes with thrushes, red birds with red birds. Just the parrot is alone—keeping it solitary seems too lonely.”
A nearby maidservant pointed outside: “There’s another one alone in the front courtyard—shall we move it over so they can keep each other company?”
Only then did Wanwan remember that one—Liang Shi had brought it back, but she’d found it noisy and sent it elsewhere.
“I’d forgotten about it.” She touched her forehead regretfully. “Let’s move it over then—being unwelcome, it must be quite pitiful.”
Tala Shi smiled with pursed lips, her expression carrying the flavor of one who rescues from suffering.