Ji Cheng paid no mind to the biased reasoning. She had pondered before why her ancestors, who neither robbed nor stole and lived comfortably, held such a low social status.
“I believe people shouldn’t be divided into noble and humble classes. Consider my ancestors’ profession – without them, where would your exquisite hair ornaments, fashionable clothes, and delicacies from north and south come from? Even if families could make these themselves, it wouldn’t be as convenient as having merchants manage it,” Ji Cheng sincerely expressed.
“Hah, if that’s the case, why do people still look down on merchants?” Shen Cui questioned.
After a moment’s silence, Ji Cheng replied, “Ultimately, our food and clothing come from the land. True prosperity must be sought from the source. That’s why the Emperor and ancestors emphasized agriculture and suppressed commerce, fearing people would only see merchants’ easy profits and neglect the land. With the court’s suppression, merchants’ status naturally became low.”
“That settles it. It’s because of you merchants that people are unwilling to live peacefully, so everyone looks down on merchants,” Shen Cui concluded smugly, feeling Ji Cheng could no longer refute her.
Ji Cheng wanted to speak but chose not to argue further with Shen Cui, as some points weren’t appropriate to discuss with her. Ji Cheng had a bold idea: she felt the Emperor and ancestors were wrong. They attributed people’s unwillingness to stay on the land to merchants’ greed for profit, without considering how to let people earn enough money on their land – then they naturally wouldn’t become merchants.
In Ji Cheng’s view, whether one became a farmer or merchant depended on individual ability and preference. If you excelled at farming, you’d be better off farming; if you were good at bartering, you’d make a good merchant. It was all about free choice.
But such thoughts couldn’t be discussed with Shen Cui, so Ji Cheng remained silent.
Shen Cui, feeling triumphant for a while, turned to Ji Cheng and said, “Cousin, don’t be so self-deprecating. What you said makes some sense. Without merchants, our lives would indeed be inconvenient.”
Deeply ingrained beliefs couldn’t be easily changed by a single conversation. Ji Cheng just smiled.
That night, lying in bed, Ji Cheng could truly face herself while staring at the ceiling. Being neglected and looked down upon naturally hurt, but not to the extent Shen Cui described as “giving a warm face to a cold backside.” She looked down on her behavior somewhat, wanting to join their circle yet unable to completely set aside her self-respect.
Ji Cheng thought of Su Yun, envying the girl’s vivacity and cheerfulness. With a good family background and beauty, her marriage prospects were surely not a concern. Though from Shen Cui’s tone, the Su family seemed to have declined, even a broken ship has three pounds of nails. The reputation of an aristocratic family always sounded better. Su Yun’s visit to the capital likely carried Madam Su’s intention of finding a son-in-law in the capital.
However, Ji Cheng didn’t feel she and Su Yun would-be rivals in marriage. Their range of choices would likely differ. Having one more friend was better than one more rival. If they both married in the capital in the future, they might still have opportunities to socialize.
Ji Cheng turned over, worrying about her uncertain marriage prospects. The next year was the imperial examination year. If she could find a husband who became a Jinshi, with the Ji family’s wealth and the interconnections among Shanxi merchants, they could support a husband to rise in status. But such a person coming from afar would be hard to thoroughly understand. She feared that sudden wealth might reveal despicable traits, which would be a lifelong regret.
Moreover, although the Emperor and ancestors had abolished the aristocratic system and emphasized meritocracy through imperial examinations, the old aristocratic families persisted. With three generations of weak emperors and strong ministers, aristocratic families controlled the court and examinations. It was extremely difficult for scholars from humble backgrounds to succeed. Those who passed the Jinshi examination were mostly from great families and might not look favorably upon Ji Cheng’s background.
Ji Cheng laughed bitterly and sighed, tossing and turning unable to sleep. She got up and went to the west room, now emptied with felt carpets from Shanxi laid on the floor. Ji Cheng practiced her skills for a while but grew more energetic. She drew her sword and, seeing no one in the courtyard, danced with it until her wrists ached before retiring to bed.
Sword dancing was unusual for young women, but Shanxi bordered nomadic territories, so every household valued martial arts. Local girls learned swordplay to strengthen their bodies and sometimes scare away ruffians.
The current dynasty wasn’t strict about women’s conduct. The Emperor had nomadic blood, and nomads were known for singing and dancing. During merry feasts, even noble ladies in the palace would sing and dance. Ji Cheng’s sword dance wasn’t out of the ordinary.
The Old Madam’s birthday celebration was very lively. The Duke Qi’s mansion already enjoyed imperial favor, and visitors coming to offer birthday wishes were endless. On the actual birthday, it was even more bustling with carriages and horses filling the courtyard. Even Tongque Avenue was crowded with vehicles and distinguished guests, presenting quite a prosperous scene.
These days, Ji Cheng often accompanied Ji Lan to the Duke’s mansion, partly to meet more people and partly to help receive young ladies among the guests. Even the married granddaughters, Shen Yun, and Shen He, returned to the Shen family to help as the main day approached.
After the birthday, things became slightly more relaxed when entertaining relatives and close family friends. Ji Cheng truly experienced how much thought and effort a hostess needed to organize such a grand and prolonged feast without major mishaps. The Duke’s wife, Princess An He, didn’t bother with these trivial matters. All affairs fell on Madam Huang’s shoulders, with Shen Yuan helping manage some tasks, allowing everything to proceed smoothly without incident.
However, when entertaining relatives and close friends with a performance by Changchun Garden dancers in Qingyuan, Ji Cheng didn’t have the opportunity to watch. As Ji Lan had fallen ill from exhaustion, she naturally had to stay behind to look after her aunt, showing filial piety.
Shen Cui also spent a day showing filial piety at Ji Lan’s bedside but couldn’t resist the desire to watch the Changchun Garden performance and went to Qingyuan with Ji Lan’s permission.
“You should go watch too. Madam Guo from Changchun Garden, excellent in both singing and dancing, rarely performs now. She’s only on stage this time out of respect for the Shen family. I don’t have any serious illness, just feeling dizzy from exhaustion,” Ji Lan said, constantly dabbing her forehead with a handkerchief, her nose making pitiful sounds.
Ji Cheng obediently replied, “I don’t usually enjoy crowds; they give me headaches. I’m happy to stay by my aunt’s side for some peace. Besides, dizziness can be serious or minor. When tired, the body is weakest and susceptible to evil influences. Aunt must not take it lightly.” Ji Cheng was so considerate that she even provided a perfect excuse for Ji Lan to rest in bed, recovering from “exhaustion.”
“You’re a filial and considerate child,” Ji Lan said, patting her hand. “Don’t worry, aunt will help you find a good husband.”
Ji Cheng wanted to blush, but she felt no shyness in her heart. Perhaps it was because she didn’t have high expectations; her future marriage was just a stepping stone or a tool to change her status.
Ji Cheng’s thoughtfulness towards Ji Lan lasted for four days. Changchun Garden performed for five days, and by tomorrow, most guests would have dispersed.
Liu Ye’er and Yu Qian’er were anxious for Ji Cheng. At her age, she wasn’t too young for marriage talks. If she couldn’t seize every opportunity to show herself before the noble ladies of the capital, letting them know of her existence, it might become increasingly difficult to arrange a marriage in the future.
But Ji Cheng herself was still wholeheartedly and meticulously taking care of Ji Lan, brewing and feeding her medicine, arranging flowers, and reading scriptures for her. Even a birth daughter couldn’t have been more attentive.
By evening, even the mature Liu Ye’er couldn’t help complaining, “Miss, isn’t the aunt going too far? Why doesn’t the Fifth Miss need to show filial piety to her? Why is she holding onto you? I don’t think she has any intention of helping you arrange a marriage. Who knows what she’s planning?”
“Aunt wouldn’t be so unreasonable,” Ji Cheng said slowly.
Actually, in the past few days, she had thought Ji Lan was trying to teach her a lesson. Ji Lan’s words implied that without her help, Ji Cheng wouldn’t be able to achieve much on her own. This was indeed true, and Ji Cheng never thought of leaving Ji Lan out. She wasn’t unreasonable and believed Ji Lan knew that arranging her marriage would be mutually beneficial.
Of course, there was always the possibility of someone being irrational and not wanting others to succeed. But Ji Lan had been able to hold onto the Third Master Shen for so many years, so she surely wasn’t the type to act on impulse.
It wasn’t until today that Ji Cheng began to understand. Ji Lan’s staying in bed for so many days was partly to remind her not to become arrogant after befriending the young ladies of the Duke’s mansion and the Shen family. But the main reason might be that Ji Lan herself didn’t want to socialize.
Ji Lan had mentioned several times how difficult her life was in the Shen family, with conflicts between sisters-in-law and mother-in-law. But from Ji Cheng’s observation, the Old Madam wasn’t the type to mistreat her daughters-in-law, and she hadn’t had much contact with the Second Madam Huang to know her nature. Ji Cheng felt that Ji Lan might have insecurities about her background, and the ladies of the capital were known for their snobbery, probably not showing her much respect, making her dislike socializing with these people.
Ji Cheng sighed. If this was the case, her chances of relying on Ji Lan were even slimmer. She would have to work harder to win the Old Madam’s favor. Even a little favor from the old lady would probably be enough for her to enjoy.
As for Ji Lan insisting on having her attend to her illness, it was likely to prevent others from suspecting her motives. With Ji Cheng as a witness, those people wouldn’t suspect she was feigning illness. In reality, this was just a poor attempt at concealment.
Ji Cheng shared her analysis with Liu Ye’er and added, “If I’m not mistaken, aunt’s illness should be better tomorrow. When seeing off guests tomorrow, if she, as the third daughter-in-law, doesn’t show up, people might suspect there’s discord between her and the Old Madam.”
Meanwhile, that evening, Ji Lan naturally had her conversation in her room.
It happened to be Lingrong’s night duty, and she had brought her bedding to sleep on the floor by Ji Lan’s bed.
“The master went to Concubine Mei’s quarters again tonight. You’re even younger than that Mei, how did she get ahead of you? If you could have a son or daughter, I could speak to the master about promoting you to a concubine,” Ji Lan said.
Lingrong got up to pour a cup of water for Ji Lan and helped her drink it. “Madam, please don’t tease me. Even if the master favors Mei, you’re still the one he respects most in his heart. That Mei isn’t worthy of tying your shoes in front of you; it’s just that you don’t bother with her. As for me, I’d rather stay by your side and serve you. I may be young now, but I’ll grow old someday. There are always women coming and going by the master’s side; one less won’t make a difference. Staying with you, serving the Fourth Young Master, Sixth Young Master, and Fifth Miss well, I’ll surely become a respected old nurse in the future, which is quite respectable.”
Ji Lan chuckled softly, “You’re indeed a sensible one. I haven’t promoted you in vain.”
Lingrong didn’t respond to this, instead changing the subject, “Madam, you’ll probably have to go to the East Mansion tomorrow to accompany the guests, right?”
Ji Lan reluctantly grunted in agreement, then changed the topic, “What do you think of A’Cheng?”