A guest had arrived, and since they were no person of great wickedness or villainy, Lang Jiuchuan had no reason to refuse. She brought Jian Lan along and followed Nanny Wang away.

She had no interest in learning about the Chengle Earl’s Mansion’s rise to prominence or the web of relationships within it, and would not have asked on her own — but Nanny Wang kept talking, so she lent half an ear and listened along.

As it happened, the Chengle Earl’s Mansion was the maternal family of a low-ranking Dowager Consort from the previous reign, surnamed Tang. They had been granted an earldom solely on account of a single act of merit in rescuing the emperor, and although that Dowager Consort had borne no sons, she had been fortunate enough — when the current emperor was still a prince — to bring her family over to his side and back the right horse.

The Tang Dowager Consort was now living in comfortable retirement at a separate palace, showing much care and concern toward the Son of Heaven. The current emperor, for his part, was willing to honor the old ties of warmth and affection, and so the Chengle Earl’s Mansion had carved out a respectable name for itself among the noble families. The young men of the household served in the military, studied the classics, and some had even passed the provincial examinations — men of genuine promise — while the Dowager Consort lent her influence from behind the scenes. Though they were only an earl’s household, they were in truth considerably stronger than Marquis Kaiping’s mansion.

The Earl of Chengle, Tang Bangsong, had taken two wives. His first countess had borne him one son and one daughter before she passed, and the current mistress of the house was his second wife, who had given him two sons and a daughter. The one Xiao Zheng Shi had married was the eldest son born to this second wife — the legitimate second son of the earldom, Second Young Master Tang Bozhen, who was studying at the Imperial Academy and had already attained the status of a provincial graduate. That, in part, explained why the Zheng family — a family of scholarly lineage — would seek an alliance with the nobility: Tang Bozhen was pursuing the path of a man of letters.

A single earldom with two successive countesses, each having produced their own legitimate children — the inner quarters were bound to harbor their share of shadows and schemes. Yet the Chengle Earl’s Mansion had managed rather well: brothers and sisters, sisters-in-law and the like all got on reasonably enough with one another. This was largely because the Dowager Consort had made a stern pronouncement early on — internal strife and infighting were the marks of a household in ruin, and whoever stirred up trouble would be cast out, regardless of whether they were male or female.

One might wonder how a Dowager Consort wielded such authority — the answer was simple: she had the emperor behind her, and the Earl of Chengle, Tang Bangsong, was a man who listened to his aunt in all things. Not merely compliant, but the sort who truly carried out her every word with a fierce exactness — after all, the family owed its entire rise to her.

There had once been a particularly favored concubine who, having borne a son, grew ambitious and tried to climb above her station. But before that son was even a month old, she was sent off to the family shrine. The son was placed in the care of a concubine who had no children of her own.

Yet wherever there are many people, there is always the world of human entanglements. The great wrongs were kept in check, but small grievances were still plentiful — such as Xiao Zheng Shi, who had been married three years and still had not produced an heir. Those above pressed her, while the servants below sneered in their quiet, cutting way. If she remained without issue, a concubine would be elevated soon enough.

To the accompaniment of Nanny Wang’s murmured commentary, the carriage arrived at the earl’s mansion. They entered through the side gate and proceeded toward the inner gate, with the outward story being that a close friend of the Second Young Mistress had come to pay her a visit.

After all, one could hardly make a great show of suspecting that the Second Young Mistress had been touched by something sinister, and so had summoned a Heavenly Master to examine the household and drive away evil.

As it happened, a genuine close friend of Xiao Zheng Shi truly had come to visit that day as well, so no one found anything amiss.

Once Lang Jiuchuan passed through the inner gate, she let her gaze drift quietly along the edges of her vision to observe the estate’s layout. Sometimes, one could read the depth of a household’s foundations simply from how its garden was arranged.

She found herself believing Nanny Wang’s account: with the Tang Dowager Consort as their backer, the Chengle Earl’s Mansion did indeed have solid foundations. The palace lanterns hanging beneath the covered walkways were fashioned from silk gauze — one lantern every ten paces — and along the walls hung not paintings but lacquered relief carvings, so that one could appreciate both the garden and the artwork at once.

The artificial rockeries and potted arrangements within the garden had all been laid out with careful attention, beautiful and refined.

Xiao Zheng Shi’s courtyard was called the Fallen Petals Court — a most elegant name. But Lang Jiuchuan glanced up at the position of the sun, her fingers moving in quiet calculation within her sleeve, and gave a small, nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

The orientation of this courtyard was off. What should have been a proper north-mountain-south-facing arrangement had been skewed by three degrees, making it a northeast-mountain-southwest-facing layout instead. This tended to attract yin and malevolent forces — low in yang energy and heavy in yin — which is to say, it placed the female principle in dominance over the male. And to name such a court after fallen petals, with their connotations of withering and passing away, only deepened the sense of insufficient vitality.

With all of this combined, it was no wonder that the chance of bearing children was slim. Even if a child were conceived, it would be easy for miscarriage to occur, and mother and child would alike be frail.

She said nothing, simply followed Nanny Wang inside, and swept a quick glance around. The corner of her mouth gave a faint twitch.

Xiao Zheng Shi came from a scholarly family, and her husband was a man of letters himself — both inclined toward refined elegance, and so the arrangements of their quarters reflected that preference for cultured grace.

Elegant it certainly was. Yet the feng shui had been arranged without care. The rockeries, ponds, flowers, and trees had only deepened the yin energy of the courtyard, forming a configuration of dragon-and-tiger conflict. Left like this, even the most devoted couple would eventually grow tired of the sight of one another and drift apart.

“Have your Second Young Mistress and Second Young Master been at odds lately — not quite what they were in the first year of marriage?” Lang Jiuchuan asked Nanny Wang softly. With feng shui this poor, if their marriage was still harmonious, she would never read feng shui for anyone again.

Nanny Wang started. Seeing that Lang Jiuchuan’s expression was perfectly calm, she gave a small nod, lowering her voice to nearly nothing, and smiled bitterly. “It’s mostly quarreling over the matter of an heir. The Second Young Master used to refuse to hear any talk of taking a bed-warmer or a concubine, but this year, when the Madam brought it up again, he no longer refused with the same firmness as before.”

She watched as Lang Jiuchuan received this with the air of someone who had expected exactly this, and was about to ask more — when the door of the main room opened and someone came out.

It was Xiao Zheng Shi’s senior maidservant, Song Xiang. Nanny Wang went forward immediately. Upon hearing that a young Miss He had come to call, she remarked with some surprise: “Her wedding day is nearly upon her and she still came — she must not fear tempting bad luck upon her own happy news. It shows real depth of feeling.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s sharp ears caught the words “Miss He” and “wedding nearly upon her,” and one of her brows lifted faintly. The surname He, and a wedding approaching — she had encountered such a person. Was not the bride whom the son of Marquis Zhenbei was to marry from the He family of the Vice Minister of War?

Song Xiang glanced at Lang Jiuchuan and said: “She has been here a little while already — they should be finishing their conversation soon. Would Nanny like to take the young miss for a cup of tea first?”

Nanny Wang looked at Lang Jiuchuan at once, anxious lest she be displeased. But Lang Jiuchuan simply said: “If I may look around the courtyard, would you walk with me?”

Nanny Wang assented readily and accompanied her.

As the legitimate son of the Countess — albeit the second born — Tang Bozhen was nonetheless the Countess’s firstborn child, and so the courtyard given to him at his marriage was spacious and fully appointed, complete with a small private kitchen. Behind the main room lay another small garden: in the southwest corner stood two old pear trees; there was a small pond, beside which grew a weeping willow; and beneath the willow had been set a stone table with a go board carved into its surface, surrounded by stone stools cushioned with rush mats.

In the pond, yin-yang fish swam among withered lotus stalks.

Lang Jiuchuan sighed and turned her head. The sun was fierce that day, and it was nearly noon. From where she stood, the sunlight struck the eaves of the main room and cast a shadow that fell at an angle like a sharp blade plunging downward.

“That wouldn’t happen to be your Second Young Mistress’s bedchamber, would it?” Lang Jiuchuan asked Nanny Wang again.

Nanny Wang’s heart sank with a dull thud. This — this too was right.

Not a single word had been said to her, yet this Ninth Young Miss had seen it at one glance and named it correctly. Was she truly that uncanny, able to divine things with such precision?

“Young Miss, what have you seen?” she asked, her voice trembling faintly.

Lang Jiuchuan did not answer. She was looking toward the window on the other side of the main room, her brow furrowing — from that direction came a flow of dark yin and malevolent energy, identical to what clung to Nanny Wang herself. She extended a finger: “What is that place over there?”

[Author’s note: Feng shui configurations are difficult to write about, and the reference materials consulted were not fully understood — please do not be too exacting with me!]