When the rain eased somewhat, Ding Yi returned, riding her horse with the Prince’s umbrella propped on her shoulder.

The sky had completely darkened. Households along the street had lit their lamps. Passing by windows, she lifted her head in the fading light to examine the umbrella. It was of an inner household style, yellow sumac cloth coated with tung oil, with umbrella ribs made lighter and more elegant than ordinary ones. The items used by princes and nobles emphasized refinement—anything too clumsy would look undignified to carry. Unlike common people like them who, never mind umbrellas, would dare rush through the streets with baskets on their heads.

Raindrops pattered loudly on the umbrella’s surface. Holding the carved handle, she recalled how the Twelfth Prince had pulled her up as if she could still remember the warmth. Having mingled in the neighborhoods for many years, living at the lowest level of society, she didn’t know what powerful royal clan members were like, but as for the Twelfth Prince, he already embodied all the goodness she could imagine—so good that she didn’t know what words to use to describe him.

Having trouble with one’s ears wasn’t much of a hindrance. Not hearing gossip and slander behind one’s back—whether praise or condemnation—it all failed to enter. But the world became lonely with no one to converse with face to face, and one could only sit alone in silence. The thought was rather sad.

How wonderful it would be if she could enter the Prince’s household, Ding Yi thought regretfully as she twisted the umbrella handle. Girls were attentive; seeing him isolated, she could keep him company in conversation, so he wouldn’t have to be alone. Such a devoted Gosikha servant who could take a knife for him and keep him company—what more could be desired? Unfortunately, he didn’t think much of her, and she couldn’t bring herself to persist. After all, he didn’t owe her anything. Getting carried away just because someone showed you a kind face would be too presumptuous. Fortunately, she had this umbrella. Just as they sang in operas: plant a cause, reap an effect. Give and take—at least there was a chance to see him once more.

All in all, things had gone smoothly. Today’s conversation meant they were a bit more familiar, making it easier to approach him next time. To go north, his household was her only connection. The Seventh Prince was also heading to Ningguta, but that one was trouble—he had nearly taken her life several times. Even if she had to walk alone, she would never approach Prince Xian’s mansion.

The horse’s hooves clacked. Entering the alley, she heard the sound of a qing bell: dong… dong… dong… rather eerie in the pitch-black night. It wasn’t proper to strike gongs and cymbals late at night for fear of disturbing the neighbors. The next day would be livelier, with drummers practicing their “Mourning the Emperor” tunes. Another group of monks would chant sutras and perform the flaming-mouth ritual. For commoners, funerals were no less expensive than weddings.

Ding Yi secured her horse and entered the house. Her master and several neighbors were sitting at the table talking. An oil lamp was lit, with large teacups on the table. Seeing her, they asked, “Why were you gone so long? The leatherworker has already left, yet you’re only returning now?”

She wiped her face with a towel and said, “He put on airs and refused to come, talking about bad luck and needing to deliver an umbrella to his son. I had no choice but to agree to run the errand for him.”

Xia Zhi strolled to the doorway with crossed arms, leaned against the doorframe, and glanced at the umbrella. “Weren’t you supposed to deliver it? Why did you bring it back?”

She replied, “Not that one. The leather worker’s son works as a cook at Prince Chun’s mansion. I delivered it there but got caught in the heavy rain on my way back. Fortunately, I met the Twelfth Prince, who kindly lent me this one. I’ll return it tomorrow.”

Xia Zhi sucked in a breath as if his teeth were sensitive. “How did you meet him again? That’s too much of a coincidence.”

There was an even greater coincidence—they shared the same birthday. If written into a story, it could become an opera. No need to explain the details to him. She casually said, “When I delivered it to his mansion, how could I not meet him?”

Xia Zhi kicked away a puddle of mud in front of the door. “They say the gates of nobility are deep as the sea, yet Prince Chun’s mansion seems like a small courtyard house where you can see him just by going there… Let me tell you, making friends is like a girl getting married—it’s about matching status. He’s royalty. If we insist on clinging to him, in the end, no good will come of it.”

Ding Yi gave him a sidelong glance. “If we hadn’t befriended him, you’d still be locked in that dog pen!” These two sentences left Xia Zhi sulking. She ignored him and asked her master, “How was the leather worker’s payment handled? How much did he want?”

Wu Changgeng tapped his pipe and asked, “Didn’t you say we should ask the elder Miss for the money?”

She blinked in surprise. “Yes, we shouldn’t let her off easily.”

“Children shouldn’t meddle in others’ family affairs,” Wu Changgeng said with a drawn-out cough. “He did go ask her, but the elder Miss said she had no money, though she had one life. In the end, everyone still chipped in. One tael seemed too little, so another string of cash was added before sending him away. Poor Master Xi was crying east and west, completely at a loss.”

Only knowing to cry after his wife’s death—what was he doing before? That elder Miss was truly unreasonable, making one’s teeth itch with anger. “She’s being completely unreasonable! Haven’t the Madam’s family arrived yet? If they don’t come soon, once the coffin is sealed, the matter will be settled.”

“Her family is in Fangshan. Someone has already been sent to report the death. The Xi family planned to bury her quietly, but everyone objected, saying, ‘This won’t do. A perfectly healthy young woman married into your family only to be bullied to death, and you want to bury her without a word? Her Commander brother will surely crack your skull.'” San Qingzi spoke with spittle flying. “Master Xi is the kind of person who can’t withstand intimidation. Thinking about it, he realized that after autumn came, there would be a reckoning, and no one would mediate for him. So, wiping his tears, he set up a bench and asked everyone to help raise the coffin.”

San Qingzi’s wife stroked her belly and sighed. “A woman’s life is bitter. Marrying into a household, there are wolves ahead and tigers behind. Since the family had fallen on hard times, they should have lived peacefully, but then came a troublemaking sister-in-law. Madam Xi was such a pleasant person. Coming and going, she would always chat with everyone. Who would have thought she’d end up this way? She was truly pushed to her limits.”

San Qingzi muttered, “This is why they say you women are narrow-minded. It’s not such a big deal, but she ended up harming herself. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Ding Yi looked outside. The rain had stopped. The white paper tassels on the Xi family’s door had become damp and were all drooping. Shadows moved inside the house—these were neighbors helping with arrangements. The troublemaker wasn’t visible; perhaps she was hiding. Anyway, no one could do anything about her now. They just hoped the Madam’s family would come to seek justice. The person couldn’t be saved, but at least they could give the sister-in-law a good beating to vent their anger.

As they were stretching their necks in anticipation, their wishes were granted. Several soldiers streamed through the main gate of the courtyard, with their trouser legs tied up and torches raised. Standing with straight backs, they were officials. Behind them entered a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man with a freshly shaved beard, leaving a blue shadow on his chin. With his hand on his waist sword, he strode directly toward the Xi family’s room. Knowing his sister had died under suspicious circumstances, female family members had also come for the funeral. Women could attend funerals, so there were no taboos about them not leaving home. Judging by their attire, they were the Commander’s wife and sisters-in-law. Before entering the house, they had already begun to wail loudly.

Immediately, cries filled the air, and soft-hearted neighbors joined in wiping tears. Ding Yi and San Qingzi’s couple squeezed in to see. The Commander stood before the coffin, trembling all over as he stared at the stitches on Madam Xi’s neck. He reached back and grabbed Master Xi’s collar, his voice distorted as he violently shook him. “What did you do to our Lady? What happened to her?” He raised his hand and punched him. “I’ll beat you to death, you traitor! How did you come to our door asking for her hand back then, not wanting the elder sister but the younger… You got the younger sister, and this is how she ends up! Why aren’t you dead? How dare you still breathe?”

The Commander no longer cared about appearances, his massive fists flying wildly. No one dared to stop him—a military man with inexhaustible strength. As for Master Xi, he covered his head, dodging. Being useless himself, having let his wife die wrongfully, he deserved a beating. The Commander struck fiercely. Before long, he had beaten the man black and blue. Kneeling before Madam Xi’s coffin, he cried, banging his head against the coffin board. “You’ve taken the easy way out, just leaving like that. What about me? How can I explain this? Take me with you—what’s the point of living anymore? What taste is there to live!”

Some mischievous people in the courtyard had somehow dug out the elder Miss and pushed her before the Commander. “You constantly bullied the Madam, causing her to cut her throat. Now the in-law’s brother has come. Elder Miss, say something!”

Hearing these words, the Commander realized his sister was a proud person. When visiting her maiden home, apart from asking for help, she barely said anything else. So it turned out she had been tormented by the sister-in-law to the point of being unable to go on. This stupid sister—why didn’t she return home for help if she couldn’t win with words or fists? Such a despicable creature should have been tied up and thrown into a pond to end it all. Why sacrifice her own life? His eyes blazing with anger, he asked through gritted teeth: “My sister died because of you. Are you satisfied now?”

The elder Miss was also a formidable character. She didn’t cower and retorted: “Sir, your words are unjust. The court officials have examined the case—the Madam took her own life, with no blame on others. You walk in official circles, so you should speak reasonably. No one cut her throat. It was her own choice to end her life. Who can be blamed? Don’t use your male status to bully us widows and orphans.”

These words left the Commander speechless. He couldn’t resort to violence anymore, but it didn’t matter—there were still his wife and the other women of the family. The Commander’s wife came from the Lower Three Banners, known for her shrewdness. Adding fuel to the fire and making life difficult was her dowry from her maiden home. Normally, sisters-in-law not getting along was an old story, but now that something had happened, they were still close kin. They couldn’t let someone mistreat their family member to death. Without a word, she grabbed the elder Miss by the crown of her head and called to those beside her, “What are you waiting for? Beat her!”

Thus began a round of punches and kicks, with the elder Miss crying and calling for her parents. When women fought, pulling hair and tearing clothes were their masterstrokes. The elder Miss couldn’t fend off so many people. Soon her clothes were in tatters as she rolled on the ground, the white flesh of her belly exposed. The Commander’s wife stepped on her, sneering with a strange tone: “Look at this! You bullied our sister until she had no way to live, yet you’ve grown so plump yourself! Losing your husband, you’ve become like the Parawarisa bird that eats others’ homes, returning to your maiden home to act like the Empress Dowager. Come here, bring me the mourning clothes! Our sister had no sons or daughters. I need to find someone to wear hemp mourning clothes and send her off.” As she spoke, she gritted her teeth and dragged the woman under the coffin, forcing her to kowtow there. “Cry for the spirit! Cry harder! Later, you’ll also carry banners and smash basins. You thought you could get away with causing someone’s death? Do you think our Ding family is easy to bully?”

Oh, what chaos! The elder Miss had two children who cried for their mother in shrill voices. People on the side commented, “These two little brats aren’t good either. Rats give birth to hole-diggers—they breathe through the same nostril as their mother.”

Initially feeling angry and thinking the elder Miss deserved punishment, after watching her beaten so severely, one couldn’t help but feel a strange sigh. Ding Yi couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Beating her this badly might kill her. She glanced at Xia Zhi. “Aren’t they going to stop?”

Xia Zhi picked up his teeth and said, “They need to vent their anger. After all, a human life was lost. It wasn’t just one or two arguments—daily picking at her nose and eyes. Why? They weren’t eating her food. Even I couldn’t stand it if it were me.”

She rubbed her hands together. “Don’t let them beat her to death. If someone dies, everyone in our courtyard will be implicated by the Shuntian Prefecture.”

Xia Zhi waved his hand. “She won’t die from this. There’s no blood—just some tearing and pulling. It won’t cost a life. Besides, even if she dies, it doesn’t matter. The principal party is a Commander. If the sky falls, he’ll be the one to hold it up.”

Since that was the case, she didn’t concern herself further and took two steps back, planning to leave quietly. Just as she was about to exit, she met the funeral steward who said, “Tree, there’s work! The Commander has ordered another group of drummers. Are you willing to join? As usual, you just need to play the trumpet for half a day, and you’ll get twenty-four large coins.”

When Ding Yi had no work before, she had done this to earn extra money. She played the trumpet well, especially the “Joyous” tune for weddings. With a high pitch and fast rhythm, she could hold a breath and make it sound like flowers blooming. All the local musicians knew her.

It wasn’t a good reputation—rather embarrassing—but people lived to earn money. She didn’t see herself as a woman yet, because she still couldn’t afford to. She worked hard now so that one day she could wear a skirt and put up her hair. She gave an acknowledgment and said, “Let me ask my master for permission first. Save a seat for me, I’ll come.”