“How can Hu Chunhou be compared to Marquis Chang? Don’t talk nonsense, they’re simply not the same kind of people at all!”

Below Baiquan Mountain, in Quanqian Village — one wouldn’t know how good the houses here were until summer came, truly a place like a garden at dusk in every season, neither too cold nor too hot.

The households were scented with mugwort, sachets placed at bedsides, and at night with the window propped open, a single sheet was enough for summer — not the least bit unbearable.

The houses along the mountainside were simply this good.

That day, after Chang Lianfang had taken his whipping, he was brought back to recuperate at the chessboard courtyard on Quanhou Street. The family felt he shouldn’t be left idle, so every day when there was free time, they found him something to do, to keep him from overthinking.

The day Chang Lianfang was released, the Empress Dowager in the palace had sent a Female Official from the Office of Palace Discipline to the Chang household — clearly this was not meant to preserve their dignity.

What did the Office of Palace Discipline do? It investigated the inner palace, meted out punishments, corrected conduct, and taught proper rules… but these rules governing conduct applied to palace maids, not to titled ladies of rank, which made this truly harsh.

As for Chang Lianqi and Chang Lianxu, Marquis Chang had personally taken them into the ancestral hall and they hadn’t come out since. It was said that every morning the father and his two sons had to recite the family rules before the ancestral tablets, after which Chang Mianshen personally administered the family discipline — and did so every day.

Chang Lianfang, hearing news of the Chang family now, didn’t pay it much mind. He had no idea what was going through their minds; anyway, from appearances he seemed fine, smiling every day as usual.

Today was no different. After finishing their shift, the old blades who had nothing else to do all rushed their horses back to Qingfeng Mansion, and those who didn’t even stop at their own homes came straight to Little Flower’s place to mooch a meal.

Well, who told him that in the past he used to freeload off everyone — now it was time to pay it back.

And so, the unlucky boy had been lying on the heated platform bed, and seeing him pitiful, everyone happily carried him out and set him on the soft couch to watch them all drink wine and eat meat — quite a lively time.

They were all straightforward men who liked to speak their minds, and in a few words the conversation turned to Hu Youguui’s father, Hu Chunhou, and then to Marquis Chang. Cui Erdian said that deep down they were the same kind of person, and Hu Youguui wouldn’t accept that.

After arguing back, he picked up his wine bowl, took a gulp, wiped his mouth, and said with a chuckle: “What kind of vision does Marquis Chang have — looking five generations ahead. Never mind that this generation is miserable now, the next generation will surely learn from this lesson and improve.

That man can see thousands of miles ahead with a single glance. What is Hu Chunhou? My younger brother is truly talented — talented enough to enter the Imperial Academy — and yet he can’t see it! Heh, if the Hu family has any future, it’s not through me, it’s through my brother. So these two men are simply not the same kind from the bone, surnamed Hu but never thinking of the future, and with no regard for kinship either — understand?”

Guan Si’er, having been kept in line by his father this past year or more, had picked up something of a young master’s manner and had learned to think before speaking. He advised: “Don’t dwell on that. Anyway, it’s all about the father!” He pointed at Chang Lianfang, who was lying on the couch eating a pear: “One’s a father to him, they’re all elders to you, and by propriety, you’re at a disadvantage there. Brother, it’s fine when you talk like this among us brothers, but out there you have to hold back, or people will catch you by the tail. Even if you’re not afraid of trouble, it’s still trouble, isn’t it?”

Just as they were talking, Chang Lianfang’s young wife arrived with maidservants carrying all sorts of food.

Tsk, they’d only been apart a little while, and look how she still thought of him.

The two of them — one lying down, one standing on the steps — after only a short separation gazed at each other so tenderly it was as if they’d been apart for years, giving everyone goosebumps… well, just wait — they’d only just gotten married, still in the honeymoon phase.

Just wait until autumn came three times over and each showed their true colors — then you’d see his brains get scooped out with a ladle.

What excess affection — who knows what the eldest brother was thinking, marrying him off?

Of course, in the short time since, Little Flower’s wife had become quite well-liked among everyone on Qinwei Lane. Whether in the crisp efficiency of getting things done or in her character, it was as if she’d been picked specifically to match the flavor of Qinwei Lane — she’d fit right in without wasting a moment.

Never mind that among the sisters-in-law she was the shortest, she was the one who knew best how to dress and adorn herself — bright red, vivid green, deep purple, she dared to wear them all.

The men had no eye for such things; they’d all come from humble backgrounds, and only recognized bright reds and greens as good-looking.

They privately thought, unlike the women at home — except for Sister Qiqian, who liked bright and vivid colors, the rest, despite being just as young, insisted on learning refined elegance from those wives in Yandu — what was the point of that?

Goodness, so young, and yet they dressed themselves up like nuns reciting sutras — who knew what they were thinking.

Well, whatever they were thinking, they didn’t dare say it at home — unless they were looking to die, there was nowhere else for it.

Today Xu Ximei wore a thin red undergarment with gold brocade at the hem, draped over with a light red ice-silk overlay. Her hair was, as always, pulled up high, with a — ahem — quite tall string of flower hairpins inserted, so that walking she seemed to move as if among the clouds.

Chang Lianfang smiled the moment he saw his young wife. Seeing the maids she brought carrying trays laden with copper coins, he asked curiously: “Are you going out?”

His young wife came down the steps, took a handkerchief, and bent down to carefully wipe his mouth, saying softly: “Mm, going out. Won’t stay long, just there and back. Our sister-in-law said that after the recent days of continuous rain, once it stops there’ll be a wave of plague wind. The adults are fine, but in Qingfeng City, quite a few children under three have passed away.

Our grandmother also feels it’s not right, so she said each of our households should pool some money, first hold a ritual at the Nainai Temple, then gather funds to buy realgar and orpiment in bulk and donate them, to give emergency relief to families in need.”

Chang Lianfang looked at those trays of money without speaking yet, and his young wife continued: “Sister-in-law said at most thirty guan per household; the rest of the six lanes are all giving twenty guan, some ten guan; over on Houjie the amount is more like three to five guan — anyway, we mustn’t overdo it. There’s also a collection for aloeswood medicine going on, and they’re all looking to the Tang household — but no one’s looking at us.”

After she finished, she blinked, and Chang Lianfang laughed.

The matriarch of the Tang household, Madam Li, liked to take charge of such matters overall, so no one contended with her for it.

It had only been a few days, and she’d already picked up the stingy, calculating manner of Qinwei Lane.

And she even had the nerve to call it “deferring to the Tang household.”

He reached out and patted his wife, saying gently: “Go on then, have fun a while longer. There are plenty of people here with me, you don’t need to worry about me — I have them.”

Xu Ximei still fretted and cautioned him: “Even though I won’t be here, you still mustn’t get up to mischief.”

Chang Lianfang’s face flushed red at once, and he pointed toward the door, urging her to hurry off.

Really, things had turned completely upside down — how could she say such things so casually, “mischief” indeed! How old did she think he was?

Everyone chuckled knowingly and quietly as they watched her rise gracefully, and with great composure bid farewell to the uncles and elder cousins present like proper family, before leading her people away.

They’d never seen her ride out and hack at a horse’s legs with that fierce vigor of hers — right now she was just the kind of adorable little thing everyone wanted to shelter in their arms. Of course, by “everyone” that meant the old ladies of the household, and the sisters-in-law of each family, who especially loved dressing her up.

Just that one word — “adorable” — and everyone was helpless before it.

She had an especially good temper too — whatever you said, she’d go along with it. If people enjoyed dressing her up, she’d sit obediently and let them do as they pleased.

In those first few days, whenever she went out, she’d manage to scrape up some of the private savings of the wives on Qinwei Lane. Even the shrewdest, Qiqian’er, secretly made her several lovely outfits.

Oh, and the old lady’s big gold bracelet — the very next day she’d come back wearing two of them.

Qiqian’er had to use her wits to pry money loose from people; this one didn’t need to — she just sat there being adorable and that was enough.

But back at home, this adorable sweetness had utterly spoiled Chang Lianfang rotten. Beyond seeing to his every need in food and daily life without fail, these past few days when Little Flower had a low fever, no matter when visitors came, they’d find her keeping watch at the bedside, fanning her husband to cool him down.

And this year the south had sent up some fine water chestnuts as tribute — not many, not even Chen Dasheng from the first batch had gotten any — but Little Flower had some; His Majesty had given a full five catties as a gift, something outsiders couldn’t even dream of tasting, and his young wife sat at the edge of the bed peeling them by hand and feeding them straight into her man’s mouth.

A few days ago there’d been heavy rain and the river was rising, so Guan Si’er took a basket and, together with Shoutian and the others, went down to the river and caught quite a lot of small river shrimp to send over to the Chang household.

That evening when everyone went over to his place to chat, they found Chang Lianfang lying on the couch eating river shrimp while listening to a storyteller. When he came across shell he couldn’t chew through and lowered his head, his wife immediately spread her handkerchief to catch the bits right by his mouth — that kind of spoiling was enough to provoke divine wrath and popular outrage.

Sometimes Hu Youguui felt that his eldest brother was worrying for nothing about being short-handed — he himself didn’t have such a good life at home. Tsk, watching this pair was quite an eyesore — pity his own lonely, solitary self, what had he gotten himself into!

Not that he had any intention of starting a family — once he’d had a nightmare where he sat at home, big-bellied, embroidering, while that person stood at the door with a beard, chopping firewood… too terrifying.

A whole courtyard of rough men watched that soft, delicate young wife walk off, and even her retreating figure looked so delicate and weak?

After a good while, Cui Erdian finally said: “Heh, everyone starts out like this at first, right?”

Everyone nodded, envious yet certain.

Cui Erdian continued: “It’s only a matter of time! Whatever kind of person comes to our Quanhou Street, once they enter our households, within the first three steps, one foot’s already stepped straight into the temple…”

Before he could finish, Chen Dasheng entered the courtyard carrying a great big ham and said: “Don’t talk about my old lady like that! My old lady does good deeds and accumulates virtue, and that’s for your own good too! Don’t you know, in the recent stormy weather, how many children in Qingfeng City who hadn’t even reached their third birthday have passed away.”

The people who lived on Quanhou Street were officials, wealthy families, people of means — regardless of natural disasters or man-made calamities, the children here always received the best protection.

Generally, if a household had several children of similar young age, they’d always grow up together as companions. It never happened that a group went out to play and suddenly a couple were missing, and upon asking, you’d learn a friend had died.

But outside, on the other hand, a child’s death wasn’t even considered a big deal — it was common for children to die even after being raised to eleven or twelve, nothing unusual about it.

Even last year, there was an old man on Libu Lane who had two malignant sores on his back and had to summon a famous doctor from another province who specialized in sores — the whole affair, back and forth, cost over five hundred guan.

Yet across the street on Quanqian Street, there were plenty of households not so fortunate. Never mind having many sons — a mother might bear a dozen or more children in her lifetime, and if half survived to adulthood, that was already great fortune.

A casual bout of cold weather could breed a plague of children, sweeping away no small number of children from poor households — that wasn’t rain, that was something else entirely.

In Qingfeng City, the patent medicines for treating colds and plague-wind cost several hundred coins, easily.

Death was such a plain, ordinary word — everyone was used to it, used to the sight of a lively, mischievous child on the street one day, and the next day simply not there anymore. No need to ask — chances were, the child had died.

A spell of damp rain, a trace of plague wind, and it would sweep away over a hundred children from poor households across Qingfeng City — yet, ironically, the ones who grieved most were the wealthy ladies. Truly, when people are idle, seeing their own children well, they dare not think about how others’ children fare; in fact, the parents of those dead children were not so terribly grieved — they’d seen too much of it, and had grown accustomed to enduring it.

The wealthy ladies were always busy — hearing of misfortune, they’d rush to hold rituals, donate money, donate medicine, keeping themselves happily occupied.

They knew perfectly well what was really going on, yet still thought: I’ve done so many good deeds, surely the Bodhisattva will see it, surely the gods will take note of even a fraction of it, and seeing my goodness, will bless my own children in return.

This was much the same principle as Empress Dowager Jiang building temples for His Majesty…

In the end, after all this fuss, sure enough, very few children died on Quanhou Street — this was the Bodhisattva’s blessing.

The old blades were all men of humble origins, and understood perfectly well in their hearts what was really going on, but were too lazy to expose it.

Cui Erdian picked up a piece of meat, chewed it, and said: “Well, once in a hundred years I dare to speak ill of our elders, and I get caught and scolded by the grandson himself for my trouble.”

Chen Dasheng handed the ham to the Chang household’s maidservant and said to Little Flower with a smile: “This is from our estate down south. Our old master felt for you and had it sent over quickly — not many, just enough for us brothers to share. I haven’t even tried this thing myself — or maybe I have… anyway, once it’s sliced and put in the pot, I don’t even recognize what it is. Whatever, it’s just this kind of thing. How are you doing today?”

He sat down, didn’t drink wine, and only accepted a cup of flower tea.

No one quite knew from when, but Chen Dasheng had made a rule not to drink at important gatherings unless necessary. He kept himself in check.

Little Flower smiled faintly; his back had long stopped hurting — he was simply too lazy in spirit, lying about idly every day. In the first few days he’d wished he could just lie there until death took him.

But he hadn’t died yet, and every day he opened his eyes, apart from his wife, it was his family from Qinwei Lane, young and old alike, crowding into his home.

His sisters-in-law, with nothing better to do, would dump a whole bed’s worth of babies onto his couch — what a nuisance! If he didn’t watch carefully, they’d wet his bedding, and his room smelled of confinement-month odors every single day.

Don’t ask how he knew that — the old women in the household all said so.

By the time things had truly settled down, everything somehow passed. Whatever unwillingness, whatever despondency he’d felt, truly blown away by the wind.

Whoever left whomever, everyone could get by, could eat, could live.

Chang Lianfang sat up and smiled: “Brother’s back? How was today? These recent rains have actually done me good — I’ve long since recovered. You, asking me every day isn’t tiresome for you?”

Chen Dasheng, helpless, took the ointment handed to him by the maidservant, pressed Little Flower down, pulled up his upper garment and applied the medicine once more, then nodded and said with a smile: “Lately your complaints keep increasing — your wife spoils you, but I won’t! I know those little rascals didn’t dare go all out on you. Well, once these scabs fall off you’ll be fine. Aiya, such a fuss you make — you really did sit out a whole month of confinement.”

As he finished speaking, he gave him a pat on a spot on his back that had healed; it didn’t hurt, but Chang Lianfang still let out a yelp as before. But before he’d even finished venting that yelp, someone arrived outside the courtyard and reported to Chen Dasheng: “Fourth Master, the old madam wants you to come back — she says, says the young lady Cuiying, who lives on Quanqian Street, has passed away, and wants you to go take a look.”

Chen Dasheng couldn’t recall for a long while who Cuiying was — it was only when the maidservant carefully reminded him: “Fourth Master, Young Lady Cuiying is from the Fourth Branch…”

Oh, now he remembered. Cuiying was Xique’s — Lanting’s younger sister — the little girl Qiao Shi had given birth to in Yandu. By generation she was his own younger cousin, though not the youngest — the Fourth Uncle had taken in several concubines in Yandu, no telling how many children he’d fathered.

Hearing that a young lady of the Chen family had passed, everyone stood up at once to go see the old family estate, but Chen Dasheng stopped them: “Don’t all go. A child of four or five hasn’t really become a person yet. The old lady… she doesn’t much care about that branch’s affairs. I’ll go alone.”

Grandmother’s heart had long gone cold toward the Fourth Branch — Xique and Lanting, there was no help for it, she’d already grown attached to them, but that child called Cuiying… she still shouldn’t have died.

Chen Dasheng thought hard again, but still had no impression of her at all.

He hurried back to the old family estate, and as soon as he entered, he saw Xique had spread a cloth on the ground and was taking out her own childhood clothes, sorting through them piece by piece.

At a glance, it was clear she was preparing them to be buried with her sister.

The old lady, unusually quiet today, sat leaning on her cane nearby, watching. Seeing Chen Dasheng come in, her eyelids merely drooped.

Chen Dasheng looked around and, not finding Lanting, asked: “Where’s Lanting?”

The old lady looked up and out, and said flatly: “He took his own monthly allowance and went into the city to buy a coffin for his sister.”

Chen Dasheng was stunned: “Why would his own money be used for this? Where’s my Fourth Uncle? How did she die out of nowhere? With so many people in the household, how could no one have known anything? He’s still just a child — let, let his sister-in-law go instead.”

The old lady said: “No need. Their family’s affairs, let them handle themselves — such a useless bunch! When the child was sick, someone came to say a few words, but even if this old woman didn’t care, could you not care? Could your eldest brother not care? Her own daughter is right here, her own son is right here — realgar, orpiment, cinnabar, calamus — how much of that do we have stored at home, don’t say it’s like before! It’s not that we said nothing — they said nothing!”

Xique, who was sorting through the clothes, trembled at the shoulders, then continued sorting.

Qiqian’er came out from the sewing room carrying a bundle in her arms, and said to the old lady as she walked: “Grandmother, please don’t be so upset — you’re getting on in years, why let this wound your heart? My Fourth Uncle is a proper official in the capital, why would he come looking for you? Naturally he’d go to the child’s own father first.”

She set the bundle down, spreading it out as well — a whole bundle of children’s clothes, since the girls from the First, Second, and Third Branches got new clothes every month.

Seeing this, she couldn’t help feeling a bit uneasy inside.

Qiqian’er shook her head and crouched down, quickly and deftly sorting out the good pieces, growing angrier as she picked.

Qiao Shi had come over from Quanqian Street, and no matter the circumstances, she was always neat and dignified — she wasn’t without jewelry on her, wasn’t the picture of someone freezing and starving.

So how could it be, as people said, that the child had died for lack of the means to afford the Ba Wei Pills?

Thinking of this, she raised an eyebrow and called out the door: “Yiyue?”

Yiyue, heavily pregnant, came in and asked her grandmother: “Grandmother?”

“Have your Chunfen hurry into the city, to the medicine shop, and ask about the price these days of the plague-preventing Liu Wei Pills, Ba Wei Pills, Yinghuo Pills, and that plague-preventing ointment used at the back of the elbow — what are the prices now?”

Until this was looked into clearly, her mind wouldn’t rest easy.

Chen Dasheng was, after all, set to inherit the Prince’s estate — and here was his young cousin, living right on the next street over, who’d died stiff and outright because her family was too poor to afford medicine? And he hadn’t even known?

No matter how wronged the family felt behind closed doors, outsiders still saw the Chen family as one household.

Yiyue turned and went off, and only then did Qiqian’er say to the old lady: “Don’t be so upset…”

The old lady’s eyes flared: “I’m not upset! They didn’t even tell me — why the hell would I be upset…”

Before she’d even finished speaking, Xique burst into loud wailing.

She was nearly ten years old now, had read enough books, and understood enough principles.

Which was exactly why she felt all the more grief.

Those outside said that she and Lanting despised poverty and loved wealth, currying favor with the old lady, abandoning their weaving mother who scraped by to support the family.

But how could outsiders know that with the two siblings here, there was money to be had, money that could support their mother and sister back home.

Who could have imagined Cuiying would die like this?

The child cried so hard no one could console her, crying all the way until Chunfen entered the courtyard to report back.

She said that in the city, a few days earlier, the common folk could no longer afford plague-preventing medicine — the elbow-back plague-ward ointment that used to cost three hundred coins was now selling for three thousand coins, over two guan.

No wonder Qiao Shi couldn’t afford it.

Chunfen continued that Cuiying had fallen gravely ill, and Qiao Shi had immediately sent someone to Yandu to find the Fourth Master, but he wasn’t to be found — the messenger was turned away by the Fourth Master’s household manager, the little Concubine Rou.

By the time this could be reported back properly, Young Lady Cuiying had already died.

The whole courtyard fell silent. The old lady, trembling, leaned on her cane and went into the house.

Xique wiped away her tears, packed up a large bundle of clothing, and also took her own personal jewelry, holding it close as she prepared to head to Quanqian Street.

Just as she was about to leave, the girl remembered something and turned to Chen Dasheng: “Fourth Brother.”

Chen Dasheng looked up at her: “Ah? Oh, I’ll walk you there.”

Xique shook her head: “That’s not what I meant.” She glanced toward the old lady’s room and said helplessly: “Grandmother knows I often go over there, and someone accompanies me — what I’m telling you is, about this matter, you and Fourth Sister-in-law shouldn’t take it to heart. Never mind the medicine prices going up — even if they hadn’t, what was left over from selling me that day would have been enough.”

Hearing this, Qiqian’er looked at the little girl seriously for the first time.

The pale-faced little girl stood there, and in her brows and eyes, what resemblance she bore to Qiao Shi seemed faded now, gone.

She said, with a clear and steady gaze: “Don’t go over there, and don’t listen to that nonsense talk — I know my own family’s business! It’s not Grandmother’s fault, not our brothers’ fault — their hearts have rotted through. Brother, don’t go — you’ll only come back reeking of trouble.”

Chen Dasheng sighed: “What kind of talk is this.”

After all, she was properly his cousin — now that she’d died, no matter how poor the relationship, he ought to go and help out.

Xique’s face was full of scorn: “That’s proper talk, brother? That was my father! At this point, everything should be clear — he tortured my sister to death on purpose, wanting to pour sand into Grandmother’s heart, wanting to make her suffer, hoping she’d feel guilty enough to reconcile with him! My mother… this time, she really should see through it for good.”

How could such a small child understand all this already.

Qiqian’er, helpless, walked up to the child, brushed aside her hair, and said gently: “Don’t be so upset. Since it’s already happened, just send her off properly. Even if your brothers won’t go, your sisters-in-law certainly should.”

She finished speaking and took Xique’s hand to leave, but at the door she heard the old lady’s stern voice from inside the room: “What are you going for? You’re pregnant! That was a child who died young — sending her off improperly could disturb the child in your belly! I’ll go, I’ll go… I’ll see her off myself.”

As soon as she spoke, the old lady had already changed into plain mourning clothes and come out. She looked around at everyone and said: “She spent time under our roof — I never raised her, never looked after her, but I’ll see her off.”

Qiqian’er worried she’d be too upset, but this time the old lady truly wasn’t all that grieved. In her lifetime, this was the one thing she’d seen the most of — never mind how many had died at whatever age — and this was just a young child who’d died prematurely. The only thing she hated was that the child had died so wrongfully, so stifled.

With plague-preventing medicine prices soaring in Qingfeng Mansion, Chen Dasheng, as a scout, would have to go back and investigate the root cause — if His Majesty asked and he knew nothing, that wouldn’t do, given his duties. The dead were beyond help now, but for those who could still be helped, he’d do what he could, lend a hand where he could — saving one life counted as one life saved.