Yun Pan’s life after marriage was filled with small busyness, small dailiness, and small warmth.

The household chores, it turned out, required little attention from her — since both the Grand Madam and the Princess-mother were in residence, many things passed through their hands first, and her own days were, in truth, not so different from her days as an unmarried young lady, those tranquil, untroubled hours within a chamber. The only real difference was that she now had to rise earlier than usual: Li Chenjian went to morning court, rising at the first crow of the cock, and she could not very well stay burrowed under the covers sleeping her fill. After all, she was now a married woman and needed to fulfill her own responsibilities. When things were harmonious between them, these were trivial matters — but should any grievance arise in the future, even small details could become ammunition in someone’s hands.

Perhaps she was a pessimist by nature. So she did her best to be impeccable in all things. When he rose, she rose with him, unable to suppress her yawns, tears pricking the corners of her eyes even so — and yet she forced herself to stay alert and composed.

She helped him fasten his waistband. He looked down at her, saw the tears gathering in her eyes, and felt the urge to laugh. He said gently: “I told you not to get up — I can manage on my own. You would do so much better sleeping in a little longer. It’s still early.”

She smiled and said: “I want to see Master to the door. That is my duty.”

He understood that she had not yet learned to let down her guard with him. No doubt her experiences before this, and the cautionary tale of her mother’s life, had always weighed on her — so even after such intimacy between them, she remained careful and restrained, unfailingly proper and gracious. He understood it all in his heart, but there was nothing he could say. Once he had finished dressing, she sat beside him at the window to take their morning meal together.

The sky had not yet brightened; the stars overhead still blazed brilliantly. Looking out into the distance, in the quiet of this hour, cradling a bowl of warm almond milk and sitting side by side — it seemed to carry a kind of ordinary, homely warmth.

She, for her part, rarely had such leisurely moments. Though she was conscientious in all things, she was still a young girl at heart, and in unguarded moments, a certain childlike quality would surface.

For instance, she had stretched out her legs, and from beneath the hem of her skirt, she let the tips of her feet peek out and tapped them together now and then in a quiet rhythm — which made plain that her mood just then was very cheerful.

He sipped a little of the almond milk, then turned to ask her: “What plans do you have for today?”

Yun Pan thought it over: “Nothing in particular. In a little while I’ll go pay my respects to Grandmother and Mother, then take breakfast in Mao Garden. After that I’ll nap for a bit — and by then you’ll be home.”

Hearing this, he smiled faintly, then hesitated a moment before asking: “If you’re not too busy today, would you accompany me to a banquet this evening?”

Yun Pan gave a soft sound of acknowledgment: “Which household is hosting you?”

Li Chenjian replied: “Zhao Chongyun is playing host today, inviting a few close friends for a meal — everyone is bringing their families. I was thinking if you’re not too occupied…”

“Then of course I’ll go,” she said with a smile. “Master is a married man now — it would be improper on every account to attend alone.”

He was inwardly delighted to hear it. He had worried that asking her to come along to socialize and entertain might be putting too great a demand on her — seeing that she had no objections, he relaxed.

Bi Xie called from the walkway: “Master, the carriage is ready.”

Yun Pan quickly took a hand towel and passed it to him. He wiped his mouth, rose to his feet, and the two of them walked out the main gate together.

By now the east had begun to grow faintly luminous. The lantern hanging from the front of the carriage cast a hazy, deep blue glow, and his long lashes were tinged with that same dark indigo. He bent and climbed into the carriage, then held up the curtain and urged her: “No need to see me off further — go back inside.”

Yun Pan inclined her head, took a small step back, and signaled to Bi Xie to set off. The escort riders soon broke into a trot, and the sound of hooves faded into the distance, disappearing at the far end of the lane.

Qin Dan came forward to help her back to the inner chambers. How strange the summer light was — in the short span of that brief walk, by the time she looked up again, the sky had already grown half-bright.

Back in her courtyard, it was still early — no need to rush to Mao Garden for morning greetings — so she settled herself and slowly, unhurriedly, lit a coil of incense in the burner.

Yun Pan greatly loved the leisurely hours of early morning. Her husband had gone to court; after the bustle of seeing him off, the drowsiness had receded and left her clear-headed and refreshed. She sat in the early light, watching the sunshine slowly climb over the courtyard wall, watching the grass and trees in the yard stir awake — a brand new day.

When the hour seemed right, she rose and went to Mao Garden. The household followed a meticulous routine: even though the Princess had been a daughter-in-law for decades, she never once neglected her morning and evening greetings. So all the juniors paid their respects to the Grand Madam first, then Yun Pan and Hui Cun paid theirs to the Princess. But today Hui Cun seemed in poor spirits — Yun Pan noticed, feeling somewhat puzzled, for she had not seemed this way before.

They all sat down to eat. Even the Grand Madam could see it — she tilted her head and asked: “Hui, what is the matter? Did you rise too early, and that is why you’re not happy?”

Prince Liang Zhongxian had had only one son and one daughter, and Hui Cun had been treasured and coddled since childhood like a precious gem. If the Grand Madam held Li Chenjian to slightly stricter standards, then toward Hui Cun she could only be described as utterly indulgent.

Hui Cun shook her head and looked down at her bowl: “I stumbled coming out the door this morning. I’ve had a feeling all day that my luck is bad.”

The Grand Madam laughed at that: “Such old-fashioned superstitions from one so young. You stumbled once, and that means bad luck? I was combing my hair this morning and shed quite a few strands — am I to worry that I’ll soon go bald?”

Hui Cun finally smiled: “I was being foolish. Grandmother is quite right.”

But Yun Pan could see that the happiness did not reach her eyes — as though she was only smiling to keep the Grand Madam happy.

When the meal was done, Yun Pan and Hui Cun left Mao Garden together. Walking along the covered walkway, Yun Pan called to her softly: “If you have something troubling you, why not tell me about it.”

Hui Cun started, and turned to look at her: “A’Jie, are my worries written all over my face? You could see all of it?”

Yun Pan smiled gently: “I went through the same years you’re going through now — of course I can tell.”

She didn’t probe or speculate about the source of Hui Cun’s troubles. If the girl wanted to talk, she would.

Hui Cun was not one to keep things bottled up for long. She kept glancing at Yun Pan, wavering and starting to speak and then stopping, again and again — until at last she asked: “A’Jie, after marrying Brother, have you been content?”

Yun Pan understood now. She was anxious about her own coming marriage. These months before a wedding were the most unsettled time — she needed encouragement. “You’ve seen for yourself that things between me and Master are quite well. There are many ways for a husband and wife to get along: some maintain a courteous and respectful distance, others live in sweet togetherness. It all depends on the depth of feeling between the two people. Master and I — neither of us is someone of fiery temperament, so we settle into a mild and gentle way of being, and I find it very comfortable.”

Hui Cun’s expression clouded with sadness. She pulled Yun Pan down to sit with her in the covered pavilion, and sighed: “It’s just that Brother has a good nature — and more importantly, there was no one in his chambers when you married him. Just the two of you, simple and uncomplicated, how many troubles that spares you. As for me — yesterday I heard some news…”

Yun Pan’s heart gave an uneasy thud: “What news?”

She looked more distressed by the moment — speaking of it seemed to bring her close to tears. She stumbled over her words: “The man I am betrothed to has, I’ve heard, a favored chamber attendant who has been with him for several years and is sure to be promoted to concubine. A’Jie — he is not even that old, and he has already kept a chamber attendant for several years. Could it be that he couldn’t marry her outright because of her status, and that I am simply being wedged in between them? What a position that would leave me in.”

Yun Pan was taken aback: “Does Mother know about this?”

Hui Cun nodded: “She only found out yesterday, and didn’t dare mention it before Grandmother. The Geng family concealed everything perfectly when they first proposed the match — and now that all the rites are completed and the wedding date is set, this has come to light. I feel deceived, and it has left me feeling truly wretched.”

Yun Pan felt a quiet sadness settle over her. She looked out at the clear open blue beyond the pavilion, not quite knowing how to offer comfort.

This sort of thing — it could hardly be called some deeply sinister scheme. After all, in this day and age, men keeping chamber attendants and taking concubines was entirely commonplace. Still, deliberately concealing it was genuinely distasteful. And now that the betrothal gifts had all been exchanged, backing out would cause no small amount of turmoil. So Yun Pan asked: “What does Mother think?”

Hui Cun fell silent for a moment, then said at last: “Mother says that breaking off the engagement over something like this would surely invite mockery. And even if one found a different family, who could guarantee the man wouldn’t keep a courtesan on the side or frequent pleasure houses? She says if the chamber attendant is just an ordinary one, I ought not lack the generosity of spirit to accommodate — after all, those girls are pitiable in their own way, becoming a man’s lesser companion not out of their own wish, but simply to have a meal to eat… but A’Jie, I truly cannot bring myself to accept it.”

Yun Pan considered for a moment: “Then let us do this — have Master help make some discreet inquiries: how deep is the attachment between Young Master Geng and that chamber attendant? If she truly is very greatly favored, then this matter will need to be weighed very carefully. Either the wedding could be postponed, or they should be made to send the person away. It simply will not do to walk through the door as a bride and find yourself already competing with someone of lower rank for your husband’s attention — that would be no way to begin.”

Hearing her say this, Hui Cun’s eyes brightened at once. She grabbed Yun Pan’s hand: “A’Jie, you think as I do? I’ll tell you honestly — I’ve had thoughts I didn’t dare give voice to, afraid Grandmother and Mother would reproach me for them. I’ve been keeping it all pent up inside myself. Now, with A’Jie who understands me, I no longer feel so alone — I finally have the courage to stand on some ground.”

Yun Pan had spoken the words, but the truth was she felt quite unsettled about the whole thing herself. After all, Hui Cun was her husband’s little sister — not her own flesh-and-blood sibling. She was a guest in this household herself. With a younger sister-in-law’s affairs, she could at most offer suggestions; she could not presume to decide anything.

Still — the words had been spoken in a moment of honest feeling, and she did not regret them. She took Hui Cun by the hand and said: “If you want to speak to Mother but don’t dare go alone, I’ll go with you and give you moral support. But don’t be in too great a rush about this for now — let me find the right moment to bring it up with Master first, and let him make inquiries before we decide anything.”

Hui Cun agreed readily: “A’Jie, I am putting this matter in your hands. Please keep it close to your heart and do not forget.”

Yun Pan offered a few more words of comfort — telling her there was still time and there was no use in distressing herself — and then sent Hui Cun back to rest. She herself returned to her chambers, and began to arrange the buying and selling of treasury notes while waiting for Li Chenjian to return from court.

Before long, Nanny Yao came in to make her report. She said that she had managed to establish contact with a matron who had previously served Liu Shi, and through a circuitous route had obtained some news of Nanny Pan and Nanny Wei.

“A few days ago, the second Miss Jin gave the household here a thorough dressing-down. All those matrons who used to trail after Liu Shi and flatter her have since drawn a clear line of separation from her, and none of them are keeping her secrets anymore. On the day of the earthquake, Liu Shi did indeed send someone out — apparently dispatched to one of the estates — but which estate exactly remains unknown. Our old head servant has spent money trying to find the driver of the cart, but Liu Shi anticipated this — she had already paid to have that person dismissed from the household. After questioning many people at length, no one could give a clear account of what had happened.”

Yun Pan sat quietly and thought it over: “The estates… the marquisate has six or seven of them, near ones and far ones spread over several hundred li. As long as the people haven’t been harmed, they can be found. Nanny, try to arrange for people to ride out to each estate in turn. The farthest one is in Xingyuan Prefecture — it’s five or six hundred li from here. My guess is that is where they were sent.”

Nanny Yao agreed: “I’ll have them count the available hands and set out at once. For the nearby estates, news should be back within three to five days.”

Yun Pan nodded: “Give them a few extra coins for their trouble — it’s a long journey in this heat.”

Nanny Yao acknowledged the order and stepped down below the eave to relay the instructions.

Yun Pan settled back against her bamboo pillow and let out a long breath. The people who had served her before — scattered to the winds by Liu Shi’s hand. The others she could let go, but Nanny Pan and Nanny Wei she had to find. It had been over a year since her mother passed, and the people and things connected to her were growing fewer with each season. Much longer, and she would fade from everyone’s memory entirely. Yun Pan could do nothing to stop that — only try her best to hold on to the old servants who had looked after her mother in those final days. Even an occasional mention of her in conversation was, to Yun Pan, a form of solace.

Afterward she drifted into a vague, fitful sleep. She dreamed of her mother — her mother did not speak, only smiled at her with gentle, steady eyes, so different from the frail and wasted figure she had been toward the end of her illness. She had grown fair and full again, and there was light in her eyes. Yun Pan wanted to tell her about the state of things in the marquisate — but her mother only shook her head, as though she no longer wished to hear anything about her father’s affairs.

That was probably for the best, Yun Pan thought. All the grievances of this life resolved, never to be entangled again in the next. Only her heart ached for her mother being alone — and she found herself crying, her sobs rising and rising — until she heard someone calling her name, one urgent “Yun Pan” after another. She woke from the dream to find Li Chenjian sitting at the edge of her couch. His sleeves were rolled back, and he was dabbing the tears from her face with those sleeves; the deep crimson silk was streaked with patches of varying dampness. He looked troubled, and asked: “What’s wrong? Did you have a dream?”

She had not yet pulled herself free from the grief, and like a child, her lower lip quivered slightly. Tears welled again in her eyes — and yet she struggled to contain herself. She forced herself upright: “Master, you’re home…”

He said nothing. He simply reached out and drew her to him, letting her rest quietly against his shoulder, and stroked the gentle trembling of her back.

After a long silence, he asked softly: “Did you dream of your late mother? Did she reproach you in the dream?”

She said she had not: “She just wouldn’t speak. I don’t know if she’s angry with me.”

He said she would not be: “She was a perceptive woman. She must know the hardship of your heart — that bringing in a new mistress was not only for the sake of everyone’s reputation, but also to use Miss Jin’s hand to avenge her.”

And so it was. In all the world, the one who understood her most was this husband she had been married to for such a short while.

Yun Pan tightened her arms around his neck and let herself weep softly: “Husband…”

He heard it, and paused for the briefest moment.

She always addressed him as “Master” — and yet this one “Husband,” spoken in a moment of vulnerability, left him with a startled warmth, almost as if he had been paid an unexpected honor. Perhaps, too, because she was in a daze and not fully herself — the clear-eyed, composed mistress of a ducal household would surely return once she had gathered herself. And so this moment, brief and tender, was precious and rare. He had not expected to come home from court and find such an unexpected gift waiting for him — truly a gentle, lingering entanglement, as if he had tumbled all at once into a realm of pure softness.

It seemed as if the whole world had gone quiet. There was only the sound of wind moving through the window, rustling the leaves outside.

Yun Pan gradually came back to herself. Now, at last, she felt a flush of bashfulness. She quickly let go of him and fumbled to smooth her hair: “What time is it? It must be nearly time for dinner?”

But this time he did not, as he usually did, gracefully take the cue to retreat. He stayed where he was on the edge of the couch, propped toward her, and said: “Going forward, if there is something on your mind, talk to me about it. Don’t carry it alone. I married you — which means I have already made ready to be your support. If you go on managing every single thing by yourself as you did before, then I, as your husband, am rather too useless a one.”

Yun Pan was a little surprised. She had not expected that a moment of unguarded weakness on her part would elicit words like these from him. She laughed, a little embarrassed: “Already, before this, I was so grateful for you. When I have a nightmare, there is someone here who can hold me… since Mother left, there has been no one who has held me.”

He heard this, and the warmth in his expression deepened. He lowered his voice to a murmur — the softness of it only made it feel more intimate: “I love hearing you call me Husband.”

Yun Pan froze, then slowly lowered her head until even the back of her neck went crimson. She fumbled and stumbled: “What’s there to love about it… you are my husband, naturally…” And as she spoke she slipped off the day couch, straightened her clothes, called out to have Qin Dan prepare the evening meal, and then turned back to him with a small smile: “Master, please change into something comfortable — let us eat.”

But he did not move a single step. Instead, he frowned with what seemed like some difficulty and raised his left arm tentatively: “I think the weather is about to turn. This arm of mine — it doesn’t seem to be moving quite freely.”

Yun Pan was startled: “What happened? Is the old injury flaring up again?” That settled it — she could not let him change on his own. She called for Lu Tan to bring his informal clothes, then took his hand herself and guided him behind the folding screen.

She unfastened the jade belt buckle, turned to set it on the low side table, then carefully and gently helped him out of his formal court robe. Her heart full of worry, she murmured: “If the old injury has come back, should you really still go to the banquet tonight…”

He gave two light coughs and said it was of no consequence: “I can simply drink a little less — they all know about my condition, and they won’t press me.”

Yun Pan sighed faintly, turned, and hung the court robe on the garment rack. The rack was set rather high — she had to lift her arms to spread the sleeves out properly. As she did, the wide sleeves fell back to her shoulders, exposing two arms as pale and smooth as carved jade. She was not one for ornaments; at her wrist she wore a bracelet braided from five-colored threads, and the intricate weaving of those colors against her fair, fine skin lent her an air of unsullied, elevated beauty.

He came up behind her, and with a gentle tug, pressed her against the great folding screen. The screen’s frame was made of nanmu, heavy and solid — but the panels themselves were inlaid with wafer-thin jade from the Xiu region. Pale yellow and white, the jade was near-translucent when one stood close. Pinned by him, Yun Pan braced herself against the jade panels, and in the diffuse, dreamy light, she could make out the shapes of the room beyond.

Those hands reached forward from behind her, tracing along her arms, sending a shiver across her skin. She did not know what had come over him today — her heart pounded frantically, and she had just enough composure to remind him in a whisper: “Be careful someone doesn’t walk in.”

He paid her no mind, murmuring close to her ear: “This is an inner chamber. No one would dare enter without being summoned.”

Yun Pan’s heart beat faster and faster. Through the translucent jade, the arched window on the opposite wall and the hanging bamboo curtain were perfectly visible — she could even make out clearly the green branches in the plum vase on the sill.

Her thoughts were in tumult, and yet a strange, electric thrill was blossoming alongside — she was being played with so deftly she could barely stay on her feet. At last she could only plead in a small voice: “Master — have I done something wrong somewhere… whatever it is, please tell me…”

He stood behind her; she could not see his face — only feel his breath, slow and unhurried, as he threatened her with great deliberateness: “How are you addressing me? That was wrong — say it again.”

That hand of his wandered somewhere else, and if one of the servants happened to see this through the window, she would have no dignity left to speak of at all.

There was truly nothing to be done. She had no choice but to yield. Flustered and indignant, she called out in a small voice: “Husband.”

Still he was unsatisfied: “That was not the way you said it just now…” He turned her around to face him, bent his head close, coaxing her: “Say it again.”

Those eyes — brilliant and luminous, deep enough to drown in. Yun Pan finally admitted defeat. Shy and abashed, she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, and sweetly breathed: “Husband.”