After several bouts of summer heat, the days finally gave way to a stretch of continuous overcast rain, and all at once life in Yanjing became bearable again.
Every day, the old woman servant who went to the old residence to pay respects to Qiqian’er on her behalf came back reporting that the old madam had, from who knows where, caught a litter of kittens — and once she started keeping them, it turned into three.
She’d also grown magnanimous — suddenly letting go of her grudge against Madam Cui and no longer being harsh with her, smiling warmly at everyone now, even willing to bring out fabric she’d kept hidden away, saying it was to make clothes for Madam Li’s children.
Could it be? Had something happened?
But the old and young alike kept it hidden from the daughters-in-law. Qiqian’er wasn’t foolish — she knew perfectly well how her husband slept at night, how his spirits were.
Chen Dasheng used to startle awake sometimes in his sleep, and slept in fragments; Qiqian’er was a lighter sleeper than him, and knew the moment he stirred even slightly.
But these past few days had been different. He’d been sleeping through the night, no longer startling awake.
When a person sleeps well, their spirits and mood improve too. As it happened, today was a rest day, and Father had sent a court lady who taught etiquette over from the palace to give lessons at home — so Chen Dasheng lingered in the classroom and refused to leave.
These past several days, Chen Dasheng had begun acting younger than his age, even showing a bit of childish temper. While Qiqian’er suffered through her lessons, he’d lean on the low table and snicker at her, refusing to leave no matter what, and even started stirring up mischief now and then.
The court lady’s surname was Jia, already in her forties — she’d served in the palace since the previous reign, in charge of training the etiquette of maiden candidates for the palace, and was said to have a very good temper.
Once the woman arrived at the house, Qiqian’er learned that she wasn’t the type to lose her temper with you, but she had endless patience — she could repeat the same lesson eight hundred times without a hint of impatience. From the moment she opened her eyes each morning and finished dressing before heading out, she would tie three small bells on ribbons around Qiqian’er’s waist.
Since the woman never lost her temper, there was only one thing you couldn’t learn — she could teach you the same thing eight hundred times over without ever growing weary of it.
Those bells were the lightest, most delicate kind — the moment your posture, sitting or standing or walking, was even slightly off, they would ring. Having come to the capital, perhaps in a few years she might even become a county princess consort — things that had never mattered before now had to be learned properly.
In the modest hall, something resembling tiered steps was arranged in a circle. Qiqian’er had to stand tall, straighten her back, keep her head level and eyes forward, taking small steps with a narrow stride, heel meeting toe — the etiquette texts called this pace “meeting footprints in the hall,” one footprint following right after the last, walking slowly, slowly.
The old women who came to report the household accounts came and went, no longer thinking anything unusual of it — they reported whatever needed reporting as always, and Qiqian’er accepted the instruction with an expressionless face, practicing on one hand while managing the household on the other, so as not to neglect either.
Her attitude toward learning was excellent — she never once complained of being tired, doing exactly as she was told, never grumbling the way others might.
To her, any kind of learning was growth, an extremely precious opportunity — how could she dare say it was tiresome? She hadn’t come from a high station to begin with, and as Madam Jia had said, starting from nothing meant she’d have to endure real hardship before her sitting, standing, and walking could show proper bearing.
Still, she wasn’t quite used to it — today, while stepping up a level, the bell rang once.
A paddle that didn’t really hurt when it struck suddenly shot out — pat — landing on Qiqian’er’s back. The old women below the steps immediately straightened up in solemnity, but… there came an ill-timed snicker of laughter from right in the middle of the hall.
Qiqian’er stepped down from the wooden platform, and as she passed by the maid holding fruit in attendance, she smiled “gracefully,” delicately lifted a piece of fruit with two fingers, then turned and flung it backward.
Chen Dasheng, grinning from ear to ear, looked up and caught the fruit, then called out in an exaggeratedly low voice: “Ah, Fourth Madam is so fierce!”
He finished speaking and took a crunching bite of the fruit, chewing as he asked: “Say, Madam Jia.”
One might not expect it from her age, but this Madam Jia truly had etiquette ingrained down to her very bones.
Hearing the little ancestor call to her, Madam Jia lowered the paddle, slowly placed both hands at just the right position on her lower abdomen, then turned her body halfway, revealing a particularly elegant smile as she asked: “What does the Marquis require?”
Tsk, what a beautiful bearing! It had nothing to do with looks — somehow, it just always came off looking good.
Chen Dasheng glanced at his wife, who was eyeing him sideways, then put on a bit of an affectedly humble expression and said: “Madam must be tired?”
Madam Jia smiled: “Many thanks for the Marquis’s concern, but we’ve only just begun — this servant isn’t tired at all.”
Chen Dasheng leaned back, still smiling, but his tone brooked no argument: “Madam is tired. Let’s stop here for today — come again tomorrow.”
Madam Jia drew a breath, then smiled and bowed in salute: “Yes, this servant will come again tomorrow.”
Once Madam Jia had left, Qiqian’er tilted her head to peek outside, and once she was sure the woman was gone, she laughed. As she untied the bells at her waist, she said to Chen Dasheng: “She’s just an old-fashioned, honest sort. After all this time, you clearly know she doesn’t know how to bend the rules — why do you insist on tormenting her?”
A touch of affected petulance crossed Chen Dasheng’s face — mm, that expression looked more and more like his father’s by the day.
He said, with a hint of mockery: “It’s not right for someone to wait outside our door every single morning at the crack of dawn. She may not be tired, but I certainly am. And you — if you want to learn, learn; if you don’t, just dismiss her. Our father only asked her to come teach you a few things, but no, she practically clings to you like glue, wearing that stepmother-ish face every day — who wants to look at that!”
Qiqian’er sat down, took the tea Chen Dasheng poured her, and sipped it lightly before setting the cup down and saying with a smile: “Judging by what you’re saying, you actually think she’s being unfair to me?”
Chen Dasheng looked at her, startled: “And that’s not unfair to you?”
Seeing that he cared about her, worried over her, protected her — Qiqian’er was, of course, pleased. She settled her hands in a comfortable position and said: “Then you’ve really wronged Madam Jia. She didn’t mean anything else by it — our father told her to come teach, so she came. As for this back-and-forth practicing, that’s entirely my own idea.”
Chen Dasheng looked puzzled.
Qiqian’er watched the rain trickling down outside and smiled: “As the saying goes, when in a new place, follow its customs. Here in Yanjing, back and forth, there are so many wealthy households just on Calabash Street alone. I used to think, why not just learn from Adoptive Mother’s temperament — live my own life, do as I please, however I want — what could they possibly do about it?”
Chen Dasheng’s eyes lit up, and he nodded firmly: “Exactly! What could they do? Anyway, do as you please — I’ll always be able to protect you.”
But Qiqian’er shook her head: “But Adoptive Mother isn’t happy that way! She always wants more tea gatherings, wants to be respected more by others — who doesn’t want to be praised? She says she’s exhausted, and every time she comes over and starts talking about all that idle gossip, she always ends up shedding a tear.
Besides, I don’t need you to protect me either — practicing all this is just so that… so our children won’t be mocked, so people won’t say your father was a butcher and your mother was a bandit. If we bear a bit of hardship now, endure a bit more, at least our children can go out into the world with dignity, and face less gossip.”
Chen Dasheng had no idea where his little wife had picked up this strange fixation — always talking about “our children” this, “our children” that.
Of course, every time he heard her say it, something inside him went soft, and he felt a sweet warmth spread through him.
Thinking of this, he reached out and took his wife’s hand, stroking it back and forth for a while before sighing: “That’s true too. Even the Empress in the palace, the greatest woman under heaven — even she isn’t at ease. His Majesty likes novelty, so she has to get along closely, warmly, with all his other sisters and concubines.
The Empress Dowagers are noble too, but for the sake of their families, they’ve lived their whole lives in the palace like clay bodhisattvas, having to show virtuous character in everything — not to put on a show for His Majesty, but to force themselves into such perfection that even the next Emperor to take the throne could find no fault in them. Consort Dowager Jiang keeps herself even further removed — she doesn’t even dare set foot on Yanjing soil…”
Qiqian’er sighed in sympathy as well: “That’s true, who really gets to live for themselves? We’re already doing quite well as it is… I’m truly content. Right now, whatever I want, I have; whatever I want to eat, I can eat. Not being forced by circumstance to compromise at every turn — I consider that the good life on this earth.
As for those wild talkers and drunken guests you hear, always going on about wandering the world alone, coming and going with the wind and rain, unrestrained and free — I don’t believe for a second that they don’t have a single copper in their sleeves. How could this bunch ever really afford to be so carefree? We, well, we’re living an ordinary life here on earth — no need for those immortal fantasies. That’s what really living a life means.”
Chen Dasheng kept nodding, his hand never letting go, until he heard a series of wooden clog footsteps outside, and only then did he reluctantly release her hand, saying: “My wife is always right.”
Qiqian’er was in good spirits, so she sat down and put her newly learned skill to use, peeling the skin off half a piece of fruit for him…
Yanjing was an ancient royal city; the very first ruler to reside here had built underground drainage systems. But for all its grandeur, after several hundred years, the city still looked fine on ordinary days — it was only after a stretch of continuous rain that the sewage ditches would start venting a foul stench back up to the surface.
Especially in the lower-lying areas, half the city’s standing water would pool into marshland. So after it rained in Yanjing, even the wooden clogs worn by the wealthy had to be raised an extra inch.
Early this morning, Hu Yougui and Guan Si’er rose and each combed their hair neatly, donned gold-and-jade-inlaid caps, and put on wide-sleeved, round-collared summer robes they’d never normally have worn — fine silk gauze patterned with cranes — layered over with an inch of plain gauze on top, the style currently fashionable in Yanjing. It looked simple at a glance, but fine things were fine things — that layer of gauze shimmered and shifted with the light.
Standing there, even a beggar’s eye could tell at a glance that this was expensive — and not just expensive, but extraordinarily expensive.
They changed into especially tall black lacquered wooden clogs, and the two of them left not on horseback but, surrounded by a retinue of maids and servants, boarded a lavishly decorated carriage.
The carriage itself was, naturally, extravagantly adorned — the horses wore no fewer than one hundred eighty pieces of ornamentation, all in the finest gold-inlay craftsmanship. And the carriage they rode in was likewise done in the current fashion of Yanjing — carved from precious wood with curling floral patterns, coated in twelve layers of lacquer on the outside — the very picture of wealth at a glance.
Not to mention Guan Si’er, young and handsome — but Hu Yougui especially, who was already good-looking to begin with, and now all dressed up like this, seemed to radiate an air of untouchable, frost-proud elegance perched high on a branch, as elegant and pure as a white magnolia blossom — simply stunning.
Riding in an open carriage in the rain, even three layers of thin gauze couldn’t hide that touch of worldly beauty, drawing countless glances all along the way. There were even young maidens, hearts full of spring longing at just the right age, who caught one glimpse and could never forget that handsome young man who seemed to have stepped straight out of a dream.
Embarrassed by all the staring, Guan Si’er complained: “Boss really is something, he could’ve just sent you alone. Now I can’t eat, can’t drink, afraid of dirtying my clothes, hands and feet all tied up — why did I have to come too?”
Hu Yougui had never dressed like this before either; he’d practiced his gait all last night, and he was plenty nervous himself. Having never been looked at like this before, hearing Guan Si’er still daring to complain, he snapped irritably: “Don’t I know it! I’d love to just take a knife and end it all — I have no idea what boss was thinking.”
“Exactly!”
The two poor unfortunate souls grumbled the whole way as they headed west.
A hundred years ago, some flower farmer from who-knows-where, resentful of the exclusivity of Yanjing’s flower markets, began freely selling wild orchids at the west gate — and over time, this grew into an orchid market.
This orchid market didn’t run every day; it only opened in the right season, on the last day of the month. So whenever it opened, orchid lovers throughout the city would come out to search for the blooms they favored.
Whenever the orchid market opened, it brought its own kind of liveliness too — orchid lovers in the city loved to show off the fine specimens they’d cultivated themselves, and if they were willing to sell, they’d mark a clear price and let them go.
The pity was, whether it was Guan Si’er or Hu Yougui, when it came to flower-shaped pastries, either one could easily eat two catties on their own — but as for actual flowers? Ha, they knew absolutely nothing.
Full of complaints and grievances, the two of them rode their splendid carriage through the streets. Just as they were about to pass through the Six Market Gate, the carriage happened to cross paths with a mounted rider — a warrior in silver armor and silver helmet, face covered by a fierce beast mask, leading a company of riders on a black horse.
Just then, a light drizzle drifted by on a cool breeze, and the three layers of carriage curtains lifted gently. Out of curiosity, Hu Yougui found himself looking directly at the lead rider.
This man, who never liked wearing new clothes, always felt awkward on the rare occasions he did dress well, never sure where to put his hands and feet.
Now, suddenly finding himself watched, Hu Yougui immediately felt self-conscious. He picked up the ivory-carved fan on the low table beside him and slowly opened it to shield his face, while his other hand slowly reached up to pull the triple-layered gauze curtain closed — he didn’t even have the nerve to look outside anymore.
The lead rider facing them, upon seeing Hu Yougui, was instantly struck breathless. Without thinking, he pulled on his reins, slowing his horse, and watched as this delicate, bashful figure raised a little fan to hide his face, blushing as he pulled the gauze curtain shut — behind the mask, those eyes filled with a smile, openly and unabashedly taking in more of the sight.
Only once the splendid carriage had passed did the rider finally rein in his horse fully and say to the guards behind him: “So this is Yanjing, all right — the men here are a completely different breed from the men back home!”
“Well said, General. What kind of place is Boyi Pass? Over there the men are called ‘fellows’ — here in Yanjing they call them ‘young masters.’ What, has our General taken a liking to someone?”
This person only pressed a hand to their chest and said nothing, riding on with the other horsemen for a few more steps before suddenly reining in the horse again. With a bold, carefree gesture, they waved a hand behind them and called out: “Come here.”
A guard rode up to ask what was needed, and this person pointed toward the carriage disappearing into the distance: “See that? Follow it. Find a quiet spot somewhere and take the best-looking one of them.” Behind the mask, their brows lifted, voice full of amusement: “Be careful with him, he’s delicate as porcelain, tsk! Speak nicely to him, coax him if you can. If that doesn’t work? Tsk, use whatever means you need — just bring him home for my parents to see. It’ll save them from lying awake every night nagging me about not finding a match.”
The guards were all startled to hear this, and the leader hesitated before saying: “General, is this really appropriate?”
This person waved their riding crop, laughing heartily up at the sky in an unrestrained pose: “What’s appropriate or not? His Majesty himself said we’re meritorious officials — here in Yanjing, no matter how noble the household, whosever son it is, if I’ve taken a liking to him, then he’s mine! Tsk, hurry up and go! No more dawdling — if you lose track of him, are you going to find me someone else this good-looking?”
As it turned out, this person was a woman.
Hu Yougui had no idea he was about to be “kidnapped for marriage.” He leaned back against the cushions, complaining: “Damn it, I’ve never been humiliated like this in my life — of all people to be seen by, it had to be that bunch of women from the Yuwen family. You know their women grow beards, right?”
Guan Si’er wiped away a nonexistent bead of sweat, glanced behind them, then let out a long breath and said: “Brother, what are you so worried about — look at how we’re dressed up like peacocks today.” He rubbed his face, showing him a bit of white powder on his fingers. “I ask you, who would even recognize you?”
Hu Yougui laughed, sprawling out limply across the seat, taking a deep breath: “Heh heh, yeah, that’s, that’s true.”
Outside the orchid market at Yanjing’s west gate, Lan Zili crouched in a sheltered corner from the rain, clutching a small bundle, utterly hopeless.
His family’s case had been reported to the authorities many days ago; on the day it happened, the constables had indeed come to investigate, and later… later, based on a description matching Lan Anjiang, an arrest warrant had been issued — and that was the end of it.
In a sea of people, with over two hundred thousand strings of cash to his name, that traitorous man could have hidden himself away perfectly well no matter who he was. However much Lan Zili resented him, however much he wished he could tear that treacherous man to pieces, there was nothing he could do without catching him.
Now, the fine three-courtyard house he’d been renting had been given up, and the whole family lived cramped and humiliated in a shabby side courtyard belonging to a distant relative.
That relative’s family wasn’t wealthy either, and Lan Zili had looked down on them before. But after his family fell into ruin, they’d gone around begging help from everyone they knew — who would have thought that the very family they’d once looked down on would be the one to take them in?
He had tried sending word back home through the escort agency to ask for help, but by the time it reached them, his father had already passed, and several branches of the family had already given money to help out — how much more could he possibly ask for now?
And how much could he even get, if any at all?
Lan Zili had no confidence in his younger brothers; with no way forward and worry gnawing at him, he spent his days drinking away his sorrows at home. But as his cash reserves dwindled, life grew harder and harder to bear.
Just a few days ago, he’d taken to frequenting the Shuntian Prefecture yamen to gather news, and along the way had made the acquaintance of a hanger-on named Wang Dengke.
This Wang Dengke knew a lot of people and had many connections; he’d pointed out that the money was surely unrecoverable at this point, and Lan Zili had stopped wasting silver chasing it further.
He’d been confident coming out today, thinking that even in the worst case, if he spent the money, surely a path forward would open up.
So now what? He still couldn’t quite let it go.
Yesterday he’d invited Wang Dengke to his home for drinks, and over the meal, Wang Dengke mentioned something — said there were many extraordinary people in the palace, among them an old eunuch surnamed Qian who loved orchids and often came to the west gate orchid market.
This eunuch was quite the figure in the palace — a proper official of the Twenty-Four Offices, a minor head of the Silverware Service. If Lan Zili wanted an introduction, Wang Dengke could arrange it.
Lan Zili wouldn’t trust a hanger-on with just anything, so he asked the price.
Wang Dengke said, out of pity for his misfortune, fifty strings would get him pointed to which one the man was; five hundred strings would get him an actual introduction card to gain entry.
Lan Zili didn’t have five hundred strings to spare now — with no other option, he pawned off jewelry he’d had made for his daughter, and with less than a third of what it was worth, asked Wang Dengke to point the man out at the orchid market. Since he’d come this far into the capital, he figured he might as well at least see what this “real deity” looked like.
He was truly at the end of his rope now, his mind in turmoil, filled with a reckless sense that since the road was already closed off, he might as well go all in.
As for what might happen after actually meeting this “real deity,” he hadn’t thought that far.
And so, early this morning, he and Wang Dengke arrived at the orchid market. With the rain falling steadily, poor as he was, he didn’t even dare enter a teahouse, and instead found a corner to huddle in while waiting for the “real deity.”
After waiting over an hour, with the crowd growing thicker but still no sign of the man, just as he was about to give up, Lan Zili heard Wang Dengke whisper: “Brother Lan, over there, over there…”
Following Wang Dengke’s subtle gesture, Lan Zili saw a man of about forty or fifty, dressed quite ordinarily, with rather sharp, mean features, coming out of the flower market, carefully cradling a potted orchid covered with a thin gauze veil.
This man walked hunched over, looking more like a monkey than a person — truly, not a shred of the bearing one would expect from someone in a position of power.
Was this really the eunuch surnamed Qian?
Lan Zili, back when his father was alive, had seen no shortage of important figures — but this one? Somehow it just felt off.
So he asked Wang Dengke: “Brother Wang? Is that really the eunuch Qian?”
Fifty strings, just like that, gone?
He’d searched every goldsmith’s shop in Yanjing trying to run into a palace steward-matron and couldn’t find one — and now, out of nowhere, he ran straight into a head eunuch?
Seeing his disbelief, Wang Dengke spread his hands: “Ah, in all my years in Yanjing, what kind of noble household haven’t I gotten into? It’s not like I’m trying to squeeze a few coins out of you just because you’re down on your luck…”
Just as he was speaking, the crowd in the bustling orchid market suddenly parted, and from within, a procession of splendid carriages slowly emerged.
These carriages were clearly no ordinary sight — from the ornamentation on the carriages to the honor guard on either side, nothing short of a truly powerful household could put on such a display. And the way these nobles traveled, from ancient times to now, was always unhurried, at ease.
They approached at this leisurely pace, and just as they were about to pass by, the carriage suddenly stopped. The onlookers watched as a young noble with an immortal-like appearance smiled and threw open the carriage curtain, calling out to a thin, withered old man standing roadside cradling an orchid: “Oh, Old Qian? So you really are out here!”
The man called Old Qian moved to kneel, but was stopped by a glare from the young noble, so he didn’t dare kneel after all — he only bent at the waist and shuffled closer, saying carefully: “Y-young master, what brings you out today? Does… does the family’s Old Ancestor know you’ve come out?”
The young noble didn’t answer that question at all, but with an entirely innocent expression, pointed with a bone-ribbed fan half-hidden in their sleeve at the flower in the old man’s arms: “Let me see. What fine flower did you buy?”
The old man’s face stiffened, reluctant as if being cut to the bone, but not daring to refuse, he finally gritted his teeth and lifted the flower with both hands: “Ah, young master has seen far finer things than this — this shabby flower is nothing special, can’t even compare to the ones at home, hardly worth your glance.”
Having said this, he lifted the gauze cover so the person in the carriage could see, then handed it back to a maidservant outside the carriage, saying: “It’s no rare specimen, but it has a certain rustic charm, and the buds happen to be coming out already — it’ll do nicely on the young master’s writing desk to add a bit of color. When the young master’s tired from writing, looking up at it might lift the mood, no?”
The maidservant took the flower, and without so much as a farewell to the old man, the procession continued slowly on its way. But before it had gone very far, a bone-ribbed fan was tossed out from behind the curtain.
Though thin and elderly, the old man moved nimbly, stepping forward a few paces to catch the fan against his chest.
Those nearby heard soft laughter from behind the carriage: “You sly old fox, through and through. Don’t worry, the young master doesn’t take your things for nothing — this fan is your reward!”