It truly was a most fortunate coincidence. Yun Pan heard this and felt the corners of her lips lift of their own accord. And so the first day after her wedding — it seemed life was not so bad after all.

Because consummation had not taken place the previous night, but the matter had already been glossed over with the Princess Consort, it was considered outwardly as though the ceremony had been completed. After the ceremony, there was one more procedure that was rather embarrassing — a congratulatory reply had to be written and sent to the new bride’s family.

Li Chenjian sat in his study, lifted his brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote eight characters: Worthy of admiration is the lady within her gates. He placed it in Yun Pan’s hands and asked her to send it over to the Duke of Shuguo’s residence.

Nanny Yao held that letter in her hands, and only now was she truly at ease. She went out past the inner gate to find the personal manservant who had accompanied the bride, passed along the message, and when she returned found that only Qin Dan was in the upper room with Yun Pan. She lowered her voice and said: “Madam, on the surface, this matter has been managed well enough. But the rites of propriety between husband and wife — those must still be observed. Your servant knows you are a girl and find such things embarrassing, but His Grace is a man of such generous nature, yielding in this way — how long can it go on? You must learn to let go a little. You cannot always hold back. His Grace may be patient, but if this continues, the Princess Consort will eventually begin asking questions. Moreover, the male line of the imperial family is already thin. If Madam could bring good news early, then…”

Nanny Yao looked at her, leaving the rest unsaid, and let Yun Pan weigh it herself.

Now that she had entered the Duke’s residence, she needed to consider her present circumstances. The Emperor had three imperial nephews — she should understand the logic of rising or falling. The Duke of Chenguo’s household had two sons and two daughters; the Duchess of Chuguo had also given birth to her eldest son the previous year. If the Emperor were to choose an heir, he would naturally first consider those who already had children, to ensure that the Li family line would not ultimately pass to a collateral branch. So if one truly wished to stand on equal footing with the Duke of Chenguo and the Duke of Chuguo, one first had to follow their example and have at least one child. With the Emperor growing older with each day, the time left to them was not generous — the sooner, the better.

Living in the gaps between powers, one still had to carry the resolve to look up at the sun. After all, in times where fortune and misfortune walked hand in hand, retreating one step gave no certainty of keeping oneself safe — but advancing one step might very well reveal a bright new path.

Yun Pan listened, then lowered her head and said: “I understand what you mean, Nanny. Please do not worry. I will handle it.”

Nanny Yao saw that she was feigning composure, while the tips of her ears turned crimson, and her heart softened. “Madam doesn’t find your old servant too long-winded, I hope? A clever person like you hardly needs an old servant like me to chatter on…”

Yun Pan turned around on the embroidered stool and said warmly: “Not at all. I need your timely counsel, Nanny. Sometimes I lack forethought, and you have broad experience — you can give me reminders.”

When her aunt had first arranged for Nanny Yao to accompany her to her new home, Yun Pan had thought only that having one more person around would give her courage, and that she would have company in a new place. Now, listening to what Nanny Yao had just said, she realized that a woman of her years truly could attend to every detail without missing a thing.

She rested her hands on her knees, her fingertips absently tracing the interwoven gold embroidery on the border of her skirt, leaving a faint, whispering texture behind.

Settling her thoughts, she had to admit she had been a little too self-centered — concerned only with her own embarrassment and fear, and not considering his position at all.

But how exactly was she to handle the matter of what the Empress Dowager thought? Tomorrow she would need to enter the palace to pay her respects, and her heart was already unsettled — she did not know how best to conduct herself.

Perhaps she should simply take it one step at a time. The palace’s wishes, naturally, were not to see her and the Duke of Weiguo become of one mind too quickly — otherwise, what use would the Empress Dowager’s little scheme be?

She breathed a quiet, inward sigh. This was not something to be spoken of with others. She would have to sort it out herself and hold her own ground. The palace wanted to use her as a piece on a chessboard; the Duke of Weiguo was also not necessarily someone to rely on wholly. She had thought about this during her time at home — after marriage, she would simply manage both sides diplomatically and look after her own interests. Now it was clear that would be very difficult indeed.

From outside came the sound of footsteps. She raised her eyes and looked. Through the half-lifted window lattice, she saw a girl in a rust-red, high-waisted skirt, her steps light and quick as she came fluttering along the corridor. Li Hui Cun was Li Chenjian’s full sister, yet the two of them did not much resemble each other — perhaps Li Chenjian took after Princess Consort Liang, and the Princess took after Prince Liang.

Hui Cun was openly delighted — a young girl’s joy, bright and unguarded, worn plainly on her face. A new person had come to join the household, giving this princess who so often found the women’s quarters dull something to look forward to at last. And this new sister-in-law even brought skills with her hands — that made her all the more exciting.

She arrived at the door but did not simply walk in. Instead she stopped, standing outside the threshold, calling: “A’Jie.” This was the good breeding of the Duke’s household — not to barge into someone’s room, even in the warmth of family affection. Her mother had especially warned her: now that her brother had married, small-minded intrusion into a couple’s private space would be a lack of tact. So the princess thought it over and added one more line: “Is my brother in?”

Yun Pan came out to receive her, took her hand, and led her inside. “His Grace just received word that something urgent needed attending to at the office. He’ll be back shortly.”

“The second day of marriage — why does he still have to deal with official business? Didn’t the Emperor grant him a holiday?” Hui Cun grumbled with her mouth, but her heart was quietly pleased: with her brother absent, she could spend more time alone with A’Jie.

Hui Cun was like a little sister — quick and endearing. Yun Pan liked her very much, and took her hand and sat down, asking Qin Dan to bring some fragrant drinks.

Yun Pan loved to apply her mind to tea and beverages: buckwheat drinks at the spring equinox, a rouge wine at the beginning of summer.

A delicately crafted lotus-leaf cup arrived, holding a tea of amber hue with a single sprig of mint floating on top. Hui Cun tasted it, expecting only a simple mint infusion, but found she was wrong — the flavor on her tongue was warm, mellow, and sweetly clean; the mint was only one small note woven into a lingering aftertaste.

She raised her bright, glistening eyes and asked: “A’Jie, what is this?”

Yun Pan said it was jade pear infusion. “If you can get fresh autumn pears, it comes out even better. You steam the pear and water chestnut together in a steaming rack, the same way you’d make flower dew — then add a little apricot juice to the extracted liquid, and a touch of honey, and it’s done.” She said this with a smile. “His Grace has an old ailment and keeps coughing. This infusion clears the lungs and moistens dryness — it’s good for his constitution.”

Hui Cun was immediately filled with admiration. “A’Jie truly has such clever ideas! It’s wonderful that my brother married you — even I benefit from it, and get to drink a drink specially prepared by my sister-in-law.”

Two girls, sitting in the cool shade, passing the time gently together. Outside the eaves, sunlight poured down like a waterfall; inside, they had tea and fragrance, and were utterly at ease.

Hui Cun took another small sip and said warmly: “A’Jie, please don’t feel constrained here in your new home. Mother and I both like you very much. Treat this place as you would your own parents’ home…” She then wrinkled her nose a little. “No — more freely than your parents’ home. We have no troublesome concubines here to stir up trouble, and if any servants misbehave, A’Jie should feel free to punish them as strictly as you like.”

Yun Pan smiled ruefully. “Even you have heard about what happened in my family home?”

“Of course,” said Hui Cun. “Mother sent people to find out as well. I hear the concubine in your household was dreadful. If it had been me, I would have battered down the gate that day and made a scene — I would have wanted to see how that concubine would get out of it.”

So Hui Cun also had fire in her.

Yun Pan shook her head. “That day the whole city was in chaos, rain pouring down, and everyone had their own problems to deal with — who would have come to watch you make a scene? Besides, going back to a place like that would only mean one scheme failed and another began. How many lives would I have to spare for her to scheme against?”

Hui Cun tilted her head and thought, then brightened all at once. “True! And if you hadn’t come to the capital, you wouldn’t have entered the Duke of Shuguo’s household, and your bond with my brother would never have come about. You see — fate is arranged by heaven. Where one flower doesn’t bloom, the fruit ripens somewhere else. Isn’t that right?”

She laughed openly, a young girl whose years did not match the philosophic fatalism of what she had just said — which made it all the more charming.

Yun Pan refilled her cup herself, then picked up a piece of orange-red cake with a small fork and placed it on Hui Cun’s celadon plate. “I’ve only just arrived and don’t yet know what Grandmother makes of me. When I offered the tea this morning, I was so nervous inside, terrified that Grandmother wouldn’t like me and that I’d never be able to win her favor.”

Hui Cun gave a thoughtful sound. “Grandmother was once a Noble Consort, and the palace’s rules are strict. She is a little exacting with the younger generation, but as long as we conduct ourselves well and don’t make mistakes, she really is quite loving.”

Yun Pan nodded, then smiled. “I heard from Mother earlier that you’ll be leaving home yourself in a few months?”

Hui Cun blushed a little and said yes. “The date is already set — toward the end of the year. Before, I didn’t think too much of it — married life is just married life, and one can always come home often. But now that A’Jie is here, I don’t want to leave anymore. The better we get along, the more I worry that I won’t be able to get along with the sisters and sisters-in-law in that household, and we’ll all just stare at each other uncomfortably all day. How miserable that would be!”

It seemed every girl carried this worry — the fear of going to a new place and not fitting in. But there was nothing to be done. One could not go through life without marrying.

Yun Pan said a few comforting words. Hui Cun was not the kind of person who liked to torment herself; she had clearly been lovingly raised by the Prince and Princess Consort from childhood, which had cultivated in her a nature as free and drifting as clouds.

After sitting a while longer, when it was time for the afternoon rest, Hui Cun’s nurse came to fetch her back. She rose reluctantly and said with a smile: “A’Jie, I have some sweet coconut wine in my room. When you come back from the palace tomorrow, I’ll bring it for you to taste.”

Yun Pan agreed, and walked her to the door, watching her lift her skirt and hurry off.

Qin Dan helped Yun Pan back into the inner bedchamber and said with a smile: “This princess is also a person of fine character. From what I’ve seen, all the masters of this Duke’s household are proper and courteous. Before, I was worried that in such a prominent household, Madam would find every step constrained when she arrived.”

Nanny Yao folded her hands and said: “A blessed family does not produce unblessèd people. The grander and more illustrious the household, the less it resembles those middle-tier families with all their elaborate rules and self-important airs. In this household, the old Prince did have a few concubines in his time, but none of them ever had children, so each one lived in her own courtyard and they all got along peacefully enough.”

Concubines who had children were the ones who inevitably began to compete and scheme. Sometimes Yun Pan reflected that if Liu Shi had not given birth to the boy Jue’er, perhaps she would not have become so unbearably brazen. When her father had a son, he had been beside himself with joy — entirely without consideration for her mother’s feelings. He named the child Jiang Mi — “sought and found at last, the rightful fruit” — and in his eyes, her mother had ceased to exist.

She breathed a soft sigh. She was a little tired. It was time for her afternoon rest. She turned and asked Nanny Yao: “His Grace hasn’t returned yet. May I lie down and sleep?”

Nanny Yao almost laughed. A girl who had been pampered in her parents’ home, now newly a wife, approached everything with cautious anxiety. “Madam, please rest,” she said. “There are people watching at the outer gate. The moment His Grace returns to the manor, word will be sent in immediately.”

Yun Pan sighed in acknowledgment, gave a yawn, and was about to go to the inner room to find the bed — when someone did indeed come in at the door with a message.

“Has His Grace returned?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

Nanny Yao presented a calling card. “It is said to be sent by the wife of the Deputy Director of the Eastern Reception Bureau.”

The wife of the Deputy Director of the Eastern Reception Bureau? That must be one of her father’s sisters.

Yun Pan took it and opened it. So it was: “Aunt says she will come to call the day after tomorrow.”

This was an aunt she had little familiarity with. As she recalled, the woman had repeatedly visited the Marquis’s residence to take advantage of their generosity, and her mother, being proud and fastidious, had never been particularly willing to engage with her. It had been Liu Shi, in contrast, who had always gotten along warmly with her. This visit now was almost certainly a weasel coming to pay its respects to a chicken — with no good intentions. But since she had only just established her own household, and since this person had come with a formal calling card, by both propriety and personal decency she could not refuse to receive her.

Nanny Yao was not very familiar with Jiang family relatives, and only felt that this aunt showed no consideration whatsoever. “Tomorrow Madam must enter the palace, the day after is the return visit home, and the day after that she already comes to call — leaving Madam no rest at all.”

Yun Pan could hardly speak ill of this aunt directly, and could only instruct Nanny Yao: “Keep a close eye on things. The Senior Madam and the Princess Consort are accustomed to peace and quiet — our side’s relatives are not to disturb them casually.”

With those few words, Nanny Yao understood completely, and bowed in acknowledgment.

The words had barely fallen when a maidservant at the door came to report that His Grace had returned. There was nothing Yun Pan could do; it appeared there would be no nap today. She rose and went to the door to wait.

There was some distance between the front and rear courtyards, and he walked at an unhurried pace. He would certainly take longer than a servant boy bounding in with the news. Yun Pan stood there quietly, her eyes drifting to the hanging silk crabapple tree in the courtyard. Its blossoms had long since fallen, but the tree had been pruned into a beautiful shape; among the branches and leaves one could occasionally glimpse the small fruits beginning to form, trembling gently in clusters in the breeze, tender and charming.

He came in through the gate, wearing a scarlet round-collar everyday robe, belted with a jade hook at the waist — it was still the newlywed period after all, and that festive spirit still clung to his clothing. He seemed to be pondering something; there was a shadow of heaviness between his brows. But when he raised his eyes and saw her standing in the corridor, that slight displeasure dissolved at once. Beneath the deep, long sweep of his lashes, a pair of warm, smiling eyes replaced it. In a politely measured tone he said: “I am sorry. I didn’t make clear when I would return before I left, and I’ve kept you waiting. In the future there’s no need for this. If I come home late, I’ll sleep in the study — that way I won’t disturb you.”

Though they were married now, they were still quite unfamiliar with each other. He may have meant it kindly, but Yun Pan could not accept it.

She stepped to one side and gestured for him to enter, pausing for a moment before saying: “Waiting for His Grace’s return is properly my duty, and I am grateful for His Grace’s consideration. But if he comes home late, he should still come back to the bedchamber to sleep. Otherwise, people will assume we have had a falling out — and that would not be good.”

As she spoke, there was no hesitation in her manner. Small as she was, her words carried an undeniable composure that caught him slightly off guard.

“I was inconsiderate,” he said with a smile. “Then I’ll try my best to return earlier. You need not wait up — just leave the door open for me.”

She nodded in full seriousness, as if a major matter of policy had just been settled. He found it quietly amusing but could not say so; he loosened the wrist guard on his hand and was about to go behind the screen to change his clothes.

But no sooner had he gone in than she followed.

“Let your wife help you change.”

He was startled again. He watched her gather her courage and step forward to unfasten his jade belt. He had no choice but to raise both arms so she could accomplish this task smoothly.

With a soft click, the jade clasp came undone, and both of them exhaled quietly. She put aside the belt. Her touch was gentle — even the cold jade seemed to grow warm and soft under her hands.

Their eyes met. It was a little awkward. But the dressing had to continue. She reached out and drew loose the tie of his inner layer, and his robes carried the faint scent of orchid and lily-of-the-valley, drifting lightly toward her, threading itself into her thoughts — something simultaneously unfamiliar and oddly close.

Whether it was the warmth of the season or the narrowness of the space behind the screen, the air felt strangely close, and somewhat difficult to breathe. She turned her face slightly to the side, helped him take off his outer robe, and as she bent her head, her glass earrings swayed gently, sending out ripples of delicate, flowing light. Light filtered through the gauze window covering and enveloped her entirely — the skin of her cheeks took on a faint blush of rose, fragile and beautiful in an extraordinary way.

A maidservant brought his robe and handed it over. She unfolded it and draped it across his shoulders. He was tall, so she had to stretch her arms high to help him smooth the collar. He could only bend slightly to accommodate her, and the two of them were brought very close together. He suddenly thought of the brief, restrained tenderness of the previous night, and in an instant his heart leapt — he had to take an awkward half-step backward, raising his hand to say: “I’ll manage from here.”

At any rate, she had fulfilled her duty, and Yun Pan withdrew with composure, ordering someone to prepare warm water and light refreshments.

He stepped out from behind the screen — still that clear, unruffled air of moon and breeze — and thanked her for the refreshments before sitting down by the small table. He lifted the cup; the red-gold ring on his finger gleamed with particular weight and richness against the dark ceramic of the bowl.

A light breeze came in through the window, stirring the jade-green ribbon at his cuff. He covered his nose and mouth with one hand, leaving only a pair of deep, contemplative eyes exposed, and those eyes turned briefly to rest on her. “On my way back just now, someone was delivering a calling card at the gate. Is this a relative of Madam’s?”

Yun Pan refilled his cup. “It’s my aunt. We have not had much contact over the years, and when we do see each other, it is not particularly warm.”

Whether this visit was an overture of goodwill or served some other purpose — who could say.

He gave a sound of acknowledgment. “See her first. If the elder is kind, more visits are fine. If the elder proves lacking in virtue, simply close the door to her afterward.”

Yun Pan said: “That was my thought as well. Only I’m afraid that relatives who rarely come to call might disturb the quiet of the Princess Consort and the Senior Madam.”

He said it was fine. “Every household has a few relations. I actually know a little about your two aunts’ circumstances.”

Yun Pan only then recalled that in fact the two of them were also distantly connected by blood. Very distant indeed — and because her mother had married into the Jiang family and lived in that world, her ties with the Li family had grown thin over time. If it had not been for this marriage, she and he might have had nothing to do with each other for the rest of their lives.

“My mother did not get along well with those two aunts,” she said slowly. “They both feared and resented her, and the feeling extended to me — we were never close. The last time during the earthquake, when I was turned away at the gate, if those aunts had been fair-minded, I should have gone to them for refuge. I wouldn’t have had to come to the capital and impose on my maternal aunt.”

He listened and reflected for a moment. “Mother asked earlier whether she should send one of the head nannies from the garden to attend you. I worried you might be uncomfortable with a stranger, so I declined on your behalf. Now it seems I should arrange for one after all — first to help you get familiar with the household’s internal affairs, and second to act as a buffer if you encounter any difficult people.”

Yun Pan said that would be good. “Though I have Nanny Yao with me, she is as much a newcomer here as I am. Having someone from the household who knows the way of things would be a great help.”

The two of them discussed household matters, and the afternoon passed quickly. Later he went to his study to read, and Yun Pan slept for half an hour. When she woke, Nanny Shi was already waiting in the courtyard.

For this newly arrived Duchess, no one in the household dared show the slightest disrespect. Nanny Shi came forward and made her bow, bending at the waist: “Your servant has been sent by the Princess Consort to attend upon Madam. Your servant has served in the Duke’s household for thirty years and knows the affairs of the house fairly well. From now on, whatever Madam wishes to order, please direct your servant, and your servant will see to everything properly.”

Yun Pan inclined her head. “I will be relying on Nanny in the days ahead.”

Nanny Shi said she dared not accept such words, bowed again, and stepped backward out of the room.

Yun Pan looked out — the evening sun was just beginning to slant against the courtyard wall. Because the household was small, it was not the custom to maintain separate kitchens in each courtyard. As Nanny Shi reminded her, when mealtimes came, one went to the Mao Garden to dine with the family — which spared the trouble of making individual morning and evening calls.

No matter what else, as long as someone in the family was genuinely fond of you, everyone else would treat you well in turn. Hui Cun worked hard to draw people together, calling out “A’Jie” one moment and “Grandmother” the next; the Senior Madam, besieged by her, could not maintain her stern expression and finally broke into a laugh, saying she had given her a headache.

The family’s first dinner concluded in a spirit of warmth and harmony. Yun Pan and Li Chenjian made their bows and withdrew from the Mao Garden. The faint fragrance of the Thousand Days Spring wine clung to their clothing, and this mild, pleasantly hazy feeling of half-intoxication was the best kind — a little weightless and floating.

Yun Pan looked up at the moon above, its edges soft in a ring of gentle light. Sometimes one cannot afford to be too clearheaded — to let oneself soften, to still one’s heart, and it is from that place that one finds the courage for decisive action.