Gradually, the first light of dawn appeared, shining on the Korean paper at the window. The room was tinged with a faint, shallow glow.

Vaguely, she heard the sound of cymbals and gongs, distant at first, then gradually becoming clearer, as if ringing beside her ears. For a moment, she couldn’t tell where she was. Opening her eyes, she saw the familiar furnishings and layout—she hadn’t gone far after all, still in Jiucu Bureau Alley.

What had to be faced still needed to be faced. Earlier, in her daze, she had experienced a period of relaxation, but now, having regained consciousness, her heart immediately tightened again.

She drew a breath and struggled to prop herself up. A maid happened to bring tea water into the room, and upon seeing her, hurriedly relayed a message outside while helping her sit up. Sha Tong entered with both hands hanging down, bowing and glancing up at her, “Lady… Young Miss is awake? How are you feeling now?”

She rubbed her feverish forehead and shook her head, saying it was nothing.

Seeing that she wanted to get off the kang bed, Sha Tong knelt by the footstool to help her put on her shoes. While lifting the heel of her shoe, he said, “You’re too exhausted and weak. The imperial physician said you need more rest. Leave the matters outside to us servants. Stay in your room and lie down a bit longer. If there’s anything we can’t decide on, I’ll come back to report to you.”

She sighed, “With so much to manage, I can’t let go. Have someone prepare a bowl of ginseng soup for me so I can boost my energy.”

Sha Tong didn’t comply, standing there hesitating for a moment. “Ginseng is hot and can’t be consumed for now. I’ve prepared wolfberry and white fungus soup for you to moisten your lungs and relieve dryness… Well, you still need more rest and shouldn’t exhaust yourself, otherwise it’s not good for the little master.”

Her mind buzzed. “What?”

Sha Tong gave a dry laugh. “You’re not alone now—if you don’t care about yourself, at least think of the child. The Twelfth Prince was so happy when he heard the diagnosis earlier. He’s gone to the Ministry of Justice now, saying that you must be worried about your teacher, so he’ll take a detour to invite Master Wu here. If you have any concerns, you can seek his guidance.”

Ding Yi collapsed back onto the bedding. How could she be pregnant at such a critical moment? She turned to her side, feeling bewildered. Though somewhat happy, when she thought of Ru Jian lying on the door plank, her heart froze again. She said, “Tong, I can’t keep this child. There’s a deep chasm in my heart that I can’t cross.”

Sha Tong drooped his eyebrows and said, “I know you’re suffering. But you can’t harm the little master. This is your and the Twelfth Prince’s child conceived out of your mutual love and has nothing to do with others. Let the chaos outside remain. You must have a Buddha enshrined in the center of your heart—be compassionate. If you position yourself correctly, the Twelfth Prince and the little master have done nothing to offend you. No matter how bitter and painful your family matters are, don’t bring them back into your own home. Although you and the Twelfth Prince haven’t had a grand wedding, you’re already more than husband and wife. Think about it, if not for you, would the Twelfth Prince suffer humiliation outside? You don’t know, after Prince Zhuang was confined, the imperial clan had great grievances against the Twelfth Prince. If you push him away too, he’ll be wronged to death. Just yesterday, someone sent a memorial tablet to Prince Chun’s mansion with the Twelfth Prince’s name on it. These wicked people—the Twelfth Prince cut off their source of wealth, and they wish to kill him. He’s struggling in court. Don’t you feel for him?”

Ding Yi couldn’t bear his nagging. She thought to herself that Ru Jian hadn’t been sent away yet, and she needed to keep her strength to handle affairs. Perhaps she should wait—wait until this critical period passed before deciding.

She reached for her mourning cap and put it on, then went out to look through the curtain. Red clouds piled up in the east. She turned and instructed the eunuch below, “Make room by the mourning shed and move all those paper carriages and horses inside to protect them in case of weather changes.” Entering the mourning hall, she saw that the offerings on the altar were still in yesterday’s arrangement. Frowning, she ordered them removed and replaced with fresh ones.

Sha Tong stood at the side with a worried face, afraid that this stubborn lady who wouldn’t listen to advice and had so much to do would harm her health. Just as he was anxious, someone entered. Looking closely, it was Wu Changgeng. He hurriedly went forward, and cupped his hands in greeting, “Master Wu, you’ve come…”

His attempt to say more was silenced by a glare from Ding Yi. Seeing her teacher, before she could speak, tears fell down her face.

“That’s enough, stop crying. I received news yesterday, but since you’re now someone else’s person, without an invitation, I couldn’t rashly come to see you.” Wu Changgeng patted her shoulder. “Good child, you’ve suffered. There are many unfair things in the world, try to see it more clearly! It’s been just a few days since I’ve seen you, yet you’ve become so haggard; it pains my heart. Now that I’m here, I can share some of your burdens. You don’t need to worry about everything yourself. Your senior disciple has gone to the Shuntian Prefecture to request leave. He’ll come back to help with the arrangements. You should rest when you can.”

Her jaw trembled, and her legs were unsteady from excessive grief, requiring support from two maids. She gestured toward the side room, “There’s not much to busy ourselves with in the morning. Master, please sit in the inner room for a while. We have few relatives and friends anyway, no need to entertain guests. Once the encoffining is done in the evening, my heart will be at ease.”

Wu Changgeng looked back and said, “Still, have someone prepare the mourning registry. Set up a table by the door. You may not have relatives, but many court officials will come out of respect for the Twelfth Prince. If you don’t prepare early, you’ll be in a rush later.” As he spoke, he went to the altar to take incense, paying his respects with great reverence.

The master was a person who couldn’t sit still. Having arrived, he certainly wouldn’t want to sit comfortably. He cared for his disciple; any help he could offer would lighten the burden on the child’s shoulders. The musicians were all waiting for instructions, treating people according to their status. Wu Changgeng walked over, cupped his hands, and said, “Brothers, don’t just wait around. The young mourner has a lot on her mind and may overlook some details. Please be understanding. It’s almost Chen hour (7-9 AM). Please start playing. Those who should be moving, get moving!”

Ding Yi stood under the eaves, listening as a suona horn first started, its sharp, high-pitched tone trembling up to the sky. One by one, others joined in, forming a heart-rending lamentation that shook heaven and earth. After collecting herself for a moment, she turned and went inside. Ru Jian lay there, except for being pale, looking no different than when he was alive.

She knelt on the prayer mat. Folk tradition dictated that the minor encoffining be delayed for three days to prevent those who were only seemingly dead from being buried alive. Somehow, she always felt that Ru Jian wasn’t dead—that he was just tired and overslept, and would wake up at any moment. She stared at him blankly and whispered, “Third Brother, I’m pregnant. My heart is in terrible turmoil; this child has come at an inopportune time. Now that you’re gone, how can I continue to live with him? Why don’t you wake up? If you wake up, we’ll all be complete again. If you’re dead, I’ll never be well again.”

Unable to get his response, she often reached out to touch his hand, hoping to feel some warmth, but each time was met with disappointment. This wasn’t like in operas where people could be brought back to life—how could there be so many resurrections? She slumped, sitting on her knees. Her tears had all been shed, and though her heart was being torn apart, she couldn’t cry anymore.

The curtain fluttered, and someone entered. She looked up and saw it was Hai Lan. Worried that she might behave as she had yesterday, she quickly stood up and led her to the back wing room. After settling her down, she examined her carefully. She wasn’t crying anymore, though her complexion wasn’t good. She sat down beside her and asked softly, “Sister-in-law, your family still allowed you to come?”

She lowered her eyes and said, “They only let me come after I made a promise. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Yesterday was chaotic, and I was just crying, so we didn’t get to talk. Let’s chat now.”

Ding Yi looked at her, her expression heart-wrenching. The two sat facing each other, with much to say but not knowing how to begin. After hesitating, she finally said, “My brother and I have wronged you too much. I never imagined things would turn out like this. These past two days, I’ve been thinking that if I hadn’t been so presumptuous in seeking you out initially, you wouldn’t have had to experience such pain again. I had hoped that you and my third brother could reunite, but…”

Hai Lan shook her head, “Don’t say that. No matter what, I’m grateful to you. At least after waiting for more than ten years, I had the chance to see him again. Otherwise, I would barely remember what he looked like.” She spoke slowly, and gradually a smile crept onto her lips. “While waiting at the inn, I was very afraid—afraid I’d see a rough, coarse man, afraid he would no longer be the same person. Thankfully, heaven had mercy. When he entered the door, I immediately recalled the scenes from before. He blushed, just like when he was fifteen. You don’t know how happy I was then. He was shy, so I was the one who embraced him first. He was fidgeting, so I was the one who kissed him first. Thinking about it now, I was truly shameless, but I liked him, from the moment he came to propose to my family, and I’ve liked him for thirteen years. Sometimes I ask myself, having only met a few times and from such a distance, why do I think of him constantly? Later, when I grew older, I understood that although our fate was shallow, it was my destiny, predestined that I would wait for him all my life. Now… I don’t feel like he’s dead; he’s just left again, gone to a very distant place without taking me along, so I still have to wait for him. Perhaps after waiting another ten or twenty years, we’ll meet again.”

Her words moved Ding Yi to tears. “You can’t wait anymore. How can you continue like this? How many decades can a woman waste? You can’t spend them all on him. While you’re still young, find a good family, have children, and forget about him! Past debts can only be repaid in the next life; you can’t let him clear them in the next life either.”

Hai Lan said tearfully, “I want him to never clear his debt so that he’ll spend twice as much time by my side. I can’t marry someone else. If I did, I’d have to be buried with that person, and he would let me go if he knew. I have to wait for him with a pure heart. When he comes, he’ll be too embarrassed to leave and will stay.”

Ding Yi gripped her hand tightly and hesitantly asked, “Did you and he… did you…?”

“No,” she replied without embarrassment, with infinite regret, “Had I known it would be like this, I shouldn’t have left myself with regrets. Looking back now, I wonder if he always had doubts in his heart, perhaps preparing to sacrifice himself, which is why he didn’t plan to cross the line. Men and women are different. Women can settle for less, but men are too stubborn, frighteningly so. They don’t care about life or death, nor about those who love them.”

Ding Yi lowered her head and said, “It’s my fault. I brought him back to Beijing because I wanted to be with the Twelfth Prince, and Ru Jian wanted to fulfill my wish and vindicate my name.”

Hai Lan consoled her in return, saying softly, “Don’t blame yourself. He told me that his determination for revenge had never wavered. He was also waiting for an opportunity, using the Twelfth Prince’s power to reverse the verdict for the Wen family. Otherwise, without any relatives, which prince would care about a case from more than a decade ago?” She finished with a long sigh. “It’s fate, destined to face this calamity. I just feel he suffered too much and never had a single good day.”

Some people live carefree and innocent lives, while others perhaps spend their entire lives steeped in brine. For those who haven’t been tempered by suffering, the world appears to be a field of flowers. Yet while comfort can remain unchanging, suffering can bring forth a thousand flavors. There’s no such thing as fairness in this world; the hope that suffering will be followed by sweetness is just that—a hope, not a certainty.

Ding Yi stopped crying and asked her eagerly, “Sister-in-law, what are your plans for the future?”

Hai Lan calmly smoothed the front of her skirt and said softly, “I want to go to Huairou. There’s a Hongluo Temple there where the women of our family often went to fulfill vows in past years. I don’t know distant places, so I’ll go there to become a nun, devote myself to spiritual cultivation, and spend my life conducting rituals for his salvation.”

Ding Yi disagreed, “Are you going to deny my third brother peace in the afterlife? You must live well, don’t make him worry about you.”

“If he truly worries about me, he should come back,” she finally cried after holding back for so long. “If he’s worried, why doesn’t he appear in my dreams? He left so neatly—how has he treated me right?”

She loved him deeply yet resented him deeply too, but still couldn’t bear to hate him. Ding Yi kept consoling her, “He was harmed by others; he didn’t want it to be this way either. Perhaps he wanted to appear in your dreams but couldn’t manage it.”

Nothing but talk of new ghosts and old ghosts—what else was there to console oneself with? The two women looked at each other with tearful eyes, crying for a while before stopping. Ding Yi asked, “Sister-in-law, are you truly not going to marry?”

Hai Lan nodded, “A lifetime is only a few decades. Where would I find another man like him? I won’t marry. It’s shameless to say, but what am I anyway? I hadn’t even crossed his threshold, yet I’m thinking of remaining a widow for him.”

“Don’t say that,” Ding Yi held her hand and said, “Your heart is sincere; you don’t necessarily have to become a nun. After my third brother’s affairs are settled, I’ll have someone find a new residence outside, and you can go there to clear your mind.”

Hai Lan was somewhat surprised, “Why find a new residence? You and Prince Chun…”

“Don’t mention him,” she said bitterly. “I just hate him. He promised to protect my third brother, but instead, my third brother died tragically in prison. No matter how forgiving I am, I can’t be with him anymore. Seeing him reminds me of my third brother, and it feels like a knife twisting in my heart.”

Hai Lan looked at her with melancholy, “Don’t waste your blessing. This matter has nothing to do with him; you can’t take out your frustration on him. My Ru Jian is gone, you should cherish what you have now. After all, living is not for others but for yourself.” She stood up, glanced outside, and said, “I won’t leave for these two days; I’ll stay here until he is buried. I’ve made up my mind about the future path, so don’t try to persuade me anymore.”

She forced a smile, which made Ding Yi feel even worse. When she tried to guide her further, Hai Lan raised her hand, indicating her to stop.

She asked the servants for mourning clothes and wore them as a surviving spouse. The banner woman’s aunt had her ideas, and though the Suo family shook their heads upon seeing this, there was nothing they could do.

Ding Yi accompanied her to the front courtyard. When passing through the hanging flower gate, she saw Hong Ce standing in the corridor, unable to approach but unwilling to leave, just looking at her with a dejected face. Her gaze didn’t linger on him for even a moment; she turned and headed to the mourning hall.