People often regard many children and grandchildren as a blessing. In the past, She Qingling would never have dared imagine such a thing, but now it was quite the headache—mainly because there were simply too many of them.
Today was the day the Xu family from the next lane over was being sent into exile. Early in the morning, Qiqian’er and Old Madam, along with some of the wives from Qinwei Lane, had all gone to see them off. Normally, when a family faced such misfortune, others would avoid them like the plague, but here, no one was particularly afraid—first, because the Hu family’s case hadn’t been serious to begin with, and second, because Old Madam Xu had always known how to conduct herself well. In the past, she would direct her kitchen to make delicious pastries and have them sent door to door throughout Qinwei Lane, never distinguishing between high and low status—even Instructor Cheng’s wife had always received a share. Given all that, in this seventh year of Daliang, there was no need for Qinwei Lane to distance itself from this case; no household here was any cleaner than the Xu family anyway.
With all the mistresses of the household gone out, She Qingling found himself, for the first time, troubled by having so many children around. At first he’d only wanted to watch his own grandchildren—An’er, Gennu’er, and little chubby Gaoxing. But those two boys upstairs weren’t isolated little beings; wherever they went, in tow came the Chen family’s third branch, plus the various cubs from the Old Dao family, swarming in and swarming back out. Each little master had, at minimum, one nursemaid and one maidservant running after them. The whole roof seemed about to lift off.
Afraid the children might bump into each other, She Qingling had an empty room cleared out and herded all the kids inside to keep an eye on them together. That was how he ended up “bullied” into the corner of the large heated platform bed, with chubby Gaoxing sprawled on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing, eyes darting every which way trying to keep up with his older brothers and sisters, all four little limbs kicking with the excitement. Whenever the baby laughed, She Qingling laughed too—their timing was perfectly in sync.
Old Dao’s daughters and a few of the Chen children had bundled some quilts into a circle to “cook.” They’d originally wanted to use mud to make their pretend rice, but She Qingling quickly had someone bring coarse flour instead for them to play with—mud on the heated platform would mean an earful from their mothers later.
The girls were manageable enough, but the boys were another matter entirely. Big Bronze Hammer threw open the door, his broad forehead gleaming, and they all went at it with wild abandon by the little stream, water splashing everywhere. Except for the ones close to Gaoxing’s age who hadn’t come, the rest had lined up little stools to serve as saddles, and the “war” began. Enemy soldiers had to be wiped out, monsters and demons slain one and all—shrieking and clamoring filled the air.
When boys played at war, they threw themselves into it heart and soul.
Oh, and there was one oddball among them too—the little “ugly girl” from the Cheng family next door who liked to climb walls. This child refused to accept she was a girl and insisted on being made Great General; refuse her the role and she’d hit you. The Chen children had no choice but to submit. As for the boys from the Old Dao family, having grown up watching their fathers work together for so long, they weren’t much different—they’d scheme on the sly while going along with the crowd on the surface.
Among them was She Qingling’s own grandson An’er. Having been raised so much by his grandfather, this child had developed an almost supernatural capacity for patience. No matter how others ordered him around, he just smiled pleasantly. “Can do, can do” was his catchphrase—and so long as he didn’t actually throw a punch, he seemed a harmless enough child. She Qingling had felt a bit stifled about this at first, until the day he saw the boy crush a brick bare-handed. He thought to himself, well, I suppose he really can do it. They were all the treasured little eggs of their households—crushing anyone’s child wouldn’t do.
With so many children around, you could tell whose family each one belonged to just by watching them play. The Chen family’s little “fruits” cooked away while cautioning the sisters beside them—”Eat less, eat less, there’s none left, none left…”—and then the girl called Tingting from the Ma family’s second daughter would put on a show of surveying the “stock,” saying with feigned confidence, “It’s fine, there’s still plenty.” And so the whole gaggle of little girls held out plates and cups molded from dough, solemnly pretending to eat the few wild grass-flowers arranged inside—chomp, chomp—sincerely mimicking their mothers by complimenting one another. Tsk, rather performative of them.
Chen Tiantao picked up the handkerchief tucked under her arm to dab her mouth, imitating her mother Madam Li, and said in her babyish voice to Shuhui from the Old Meng family, “I really caught you today—everyone always said Sister Meng’s cooking skill was superb, and indeed, so it is.” Hm, was that the bearing of a clan matriarch already?
The corner of She Qingling’s eye began twitching with embarrassment.
Meng Shuhui was born in the second year of Daliang. Just last month she’d still been out brawling with the boys alongside the other little girls; in the blink of an eye, here she was already putting on airs, covering her face demurely with her sleeve and saying politely, “Ha ha ha ha ha, you flatter me, do come often, do come often!” Well, no wonder—daughter of the iron lady who managed a troop of shopkeepers; even playing house, she remembered to invite repeat customers.
She Qingling could only turn his face away and laugh. How was this so entertaining?
The little eunuchs and hereditary servants attending him were all holding back their laughter as they watched. Just as the little “ladies'” tea party was reaching peak sentimentality, a shout suddenly rang out from the ground: “You! You’re dead!”
The ugly girl was wearing a leather cuirass her mother had specially sewn for her—not that she alone had one; every child in Qinwei Lane had to have one. It was the same in every household: toys had to come in matching sets, and no one dared let a single item belong exclusively to one child, or there’d be blood spilled over it in no time. Children didn’t know moderation when it came to snatching things—they went at it without mercy.
In any case, small as they were, the children of Qinwei Lane, once let loose, were absolute little terrors who cleared the streets.
The “great general” glared with total seriousness at An’er and commanded: “You can’t get up, you’re dead—”
An’er, a bead of sweat on his forehead, had been in the thick of mock battle astride his “saddle” stool. Hearing suddenly that he was “dead,” he looked left and right, thought it over, then nodded agreeably with a smile: “Can do, can do.”
Having said that, he clutched his chest, let out a heartfelt “Ahh~,” rolled off his stool, and lay down on the ground, giving another “ahh” for good measure.
Gennu’er looked astonished—this child was naturally sentimental. He tossed aside his little wooden sword, likewise leapt down from his own “saddle,” dropped to his knees with a thud, raised both hands, and cried, “Little brother! Ahh, ahh, ahh~!” This move was pure imitation of the funeral wailing operas the old ladies loved watching—identical in every gesture.
The two brothers finally reunited, clasping hands. An’er, in halting breaths, told his brother: “Brother… take care of… take care of Mother and Father for me.”
Gennu’er wiped away a tear: “I will!” Real tears, not a drop faked.
An’er then struggled to look toward the heated platform bed: “Grandfather too… take, take care…”
She Qingling drew a long breath, staring at the ceiling, shoulders shaking.
Well, thank you very much indeed.
Gaoxing, delighted by his grandfather’s shaking belly, burst into giggles.
Down on the ground, the “dead” one continued delivering his last words as if no one were watching: “Just… tell, tell Gaoxing… avenge, avenge me… ahh!”
Gennu’er raised both hands and shouted again: “Little brother~…!”
He simply couldn’t watch anymore. She Qingling, cringing all over, threw a book over his face and let out another long breath.
The ugly girl knelt down solemnly, helped close An’er’s “eyes that would not rest even in death,” then abruptly stood, drew her sword, raised it high, and shouted to everyone: “Avenge our Daliang soldiers, one and all!!”
At this, both sides of the “battle” let out a war cry and charged out of the room brandishing their swords—including the “dead” She Wanlin.
Once the children had all charged outside, She Qingling felt a sudden warmth on his belly. He didn’t dare move, and only after a good long while did he slowly lower the book from his face and say to Jixiang, who was attending nearby, “Go fetch me a small cushion cloth.”
Jixiang gave a little cry of surprise, turned, and left the room, returning shortly with a small cushion and a dry pair of pants.
Being peed on was routine for him. The refined and elegant She Qingling, reeking of urine, had long grown used to it and never found it distasteful—he often said that children’s waste didn’t stink, and he loved personally caring for his grandchildren above all else. Even though Gaoxing carried the Chen surname, he was still his own true grandson. She Qingling had suffered great hardships in his time, having been forged in the palace, so changing a baby’s pants was second nature to him. Once done, he laid the small cushion back over himself and let Gaoxing continue lying comfortably against him. As for whether it was uncomfortable for himself—well, he’d grown used to it long ago, so it didn’t bother him at all.
Out there, the children had charged off; here, it was all elegance and grace.
She Qingling, cradling his second grandson, turned his head, eyes full of amusement as he watched the “great ladies” on the other side. They moved fast—already the tea party had turned into a garden gathering, and on the ground, the “battle” had already shifted from the border front to an assassination attempt.
Jixiang watched with satisfaction and couldn’t help but sigh, “Look how grand the palace is supposed to be, yet it can’t match the liveliness of our household. If you’re talking about good fortune, you could search all of Yandu and still have to come back to say it’s ours. Every single one of our young masters and misses, without exception—all year round, not one so much as sneezes. Sturdy as anything.”
Given the infant mortality rates of the day, it was quite remarkable indeed that every child raised in Qinwei Lane survived.
She Qingling was pleased about this too: “Their parents all have good constitutions to begin with, and our household keeps things simple—no extra entanglements to worry about. When it comes down to it, so long as there’s no man-made disaster, plenty of children can be raised to adulthood.”
Jixiang sighed, “That’s exactly right. People used to say the Duke Ying household was thriving with children, but they never came to see ours. We just don’t like to show off, that’s all.”
She Qingling gave a disdainful snort at all the great and noble households of Yandu—he was the grand patriarch of Qinwei Lane, and there wasn’t a child here who wasn’t close to him; go even a few days without seeing him and they’d cling to his legs, whining for attention.
Sometimes, one’s fate really was hard to predict. Occasionally, in dreams, he’d return to the past—waking with a start, alone and cold—and She Qingling would feel immensely fortunate that, back in the year he’d come in person to Qinwei Lane to deliver the imperial decree, who could have imagined that he would end up settling for the rest of his life in a lane like this? Heaven had made the first half of his life so bitter, perhaps, only to grant him these good days now.
Every single one of these children, without exception—he’d watched each one grow up right before his eyes. The longevity locks around their necks—every one of those, he himself had hung there.
Occasionally, when he went to stay briefly at the Yandu princely residence for two or three days, without these children making a ruckus around him, his heart would actually ache with longing.
Seeing the prince in good spirits, She Jixiang came over smiling and said, “Your Highness, a couple of days ago in the street, I ran into a few stewards from the Ministry of Works lane, just chatting idly, and they mentioned those few vacant houses—apparently someone from the newly-arrived Tan family has come to look at properties.”
She Qingling’s hand, which had been patting his grandson’s back, paused. He looked up and said, “Your master hates that family more than anyone. Never mind past grievances—there’s also that old master-servant relationship. What business do they have coming here? It’s annoying enough as it is! Rather than dealing with the awkwardness, just let them stay in Yandu. Really, now Qingfeng has become such a desirable place.”
Jixiang, having assented, laughed and said, “Well, just look at it—next door in has moved the Grand Tutor’s son-in-law, and the Marquis’s general son lives on the other side; everyone who’s moved into this street works in the Six Ministries. Not high rank, but all real power players! Not to mention we’re right in the middle of it all. These days the land across at Quanqian Street keeps climbing in price. Our street used to have a few food stalls—now just go take a look…”
Gaoxing had fallen asleep, so She Qingling waved a hand, and the wet nurse tending the baby came in and carried the young master away. Once he felt lighter, She Qingling let Jixiang support him as they walked toward the west chamber.
Along the way Jixiang kept chattering, “Just look at what kind of scale we have out there—fans and fan ribs, official boots and robes, bookshops and stationery stores, all top-quality establishments.”
Once inside, attendants came up to help She Qingling change into fresh clothes, inside and out. Hearing Jixiang’s proud boasting, he laughed and said, “It’s no wonder—it was your grandmother who was clever back then. When that fellow Chang Mianshen tried to take advantage, your family’s grandmother insisted on taking the street-front shop plots instead. Now the rent from those places is more than enough to keep our household running.”
Jixiang, likewise brimming with pride, said, “Ah, all the other grandmothers next door were learning from ours back then, and they’ve all made their fortunes too. Which household doesn’t have several Qingfeng shops in hand these days? Every one of them sitting on a thick cushion of wealth now. Our shops here are such that, they say, even the officials up in the capital, when their court robes wear out, send them down to Qingfeng to be mended.”
She Qingling nodded, smiling. “After all, commercial taxes are steeper in Yandu, and there are plenty of minor clerks clustered around here besides. Qingfeng falls under the second-tier tax bracket—once you’re outside the Quanqian Street area, you still have to go all the way to Yandu to buy anything…”
Master and servant were happily chatting away when someone outside announced that Wen Fengshu, Minister of Revenue, had arrived. Why would he come at a time like this?
She Qingling settled himself and glanced at Gaoxing sleeping in the cradle beside him. If Qiqian’er were here, the baby could be sent over to her, but his daughter-in-law was out. He suddenly let out a laugh: “Well, then—let’s just receive him right here!”
And so it was that the dignified second-rank Minister of Revenue, Wen Fengshu, was startled the moment he stepped through the door. As soon as he entered the courtyard, he saw several children, three to five years old, dressed in dyed leather cuirasses, wooden swords tucked under their arms, riding bamboo “horses” between their legs, all bobbing rhythmically in place, chanting in unison: “Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop~!”
Minister Wen jumped in fright—though he startled the children even more.
The “ugly girl,” spotting a stranger, alertly raised her sword and shouted: “Soldiers, be on guard! Enemy attack!!” But then, would they please not simply drop to the ground and close their eyes, thinking that counted as hiding?
With children rolling all over the ground, Minister Wen could only tiptoe his way around the edges until he was finally shown to the front of the house. There, a few little “young misses” emerged with practiced composure, little baskets on their arms. Seeing him, instead of joining the “battle,” they mimicked the manner of grown women, covering their faces with bashful giggles: “Oh my, there’s a stranger, how embarrassing… hee hee hee hee hee.” Proper young ladies of good families simply had to withdraw at such moments.
Minister Wen entered the room in a daze. Upon seeing She Qingling, he bowed first, all formal titles and honorifics forgotten, and the moment he raised his head blurted, “Your household really is lively—are all these…?”
She Qingling, beaming with pride, gestured toward the window and said, laughing, “You flatter me—these are all children from Brother Dasheng’s family. Their parents happened to all be out today, so they all got dumped on me. Can’t trust outsiders to watch them properly, after all, best to have an elder around, don’t you think?”
Wen Fengshu thought it over and immediately guessed whose children these were, and he laughed as well—he was a man skilled with words—saying, “No wonder you don’t want to live in the capital, with a whole crowd like this around you—why would I ever go back? Every one of them so clever and lively. My own grandchildren back home have been raised much too rigidly by their mothers; not one of them has this kind of spark.”
She Qingling chuckled and, as if without a thought, nudged the cradle a little further to the side. Minister Wen had already noticed the sleeping child and asked, surprised, “Oh, and there’s another one here too?”
She Qingling put on an air of great reluctance, feigning annoyance: “What can I do, stuck with him—this is my second grandson.”
Minister Wen went over to look and first praised Gaoxing’s dignified features, saying that from the look of his face, he was destined for at least a Minister-level post in the future. Having offered his praise, he took out two pieces of green jade tokens from his sleeve and hung them on the cradle—gifts he’d clearly prepared in advance for this meeting. It really was rather awkward today—he’d asked ahead of time and confirmed the Prince had two grandsons. Now it seemed there were far more than two; the man had an entire crowd of grandsons and granddaughters, and thinking further, given the ages of the family heads in this lane, the numbers would surely keep multiplying.
Wen Fengshu bluntly pointed out the truth of the matter, and the Prince of Fuduan, with feigned annoyance, said, oh please, if that day ever came when the numbers grew too much for his old ears to bear peace, he’d rather kick the bucket early. Wen Fengshu countered, no, no—if the great old tree fell, what would become of the little saplings? She Qingling said, well then, guess he’d just have to live a few more years—being the elder always meant getting the short end of the stick anyway. In the end, both agreed: hard fate, and it would only get harder—ah, such is helplessness.
Their pleasantries concluded, Wen Fengshu sat down and took out the newly drafted commercial tax proposal from the Ministry of Revenue to show She Qingling.
With a stranger in the house, clever little Gaoxing began to stir and whimper, waking up. Seeing his grandfather, he reached out his little hands, pouting as if about to cry. She Qingling quickly bent down to scoop up his grandson, laughing as he said to Wen Fengshu, “This child’s only a few months old and already so wary of strangers. Do trouble yourself, Minister Wen, to read it aloud for me.”
No trouble at all—Wen Fengshu opened the ledger with a smile and said, “Of course, this way I don’t have to make you go through it line by line, and I can ask for your advice as I go. So, at the start of this year a new tax law was issued—aside from small peddlers carrying goods on shoulder poles, who are only subject to the city entry tax, all other merchants follow the previous dynasty’s old commercial tax rates as precedent. Top-grade silk gauze used to be twenty-five strings of cash per bolt; we’ve raised it by five strings. Mid-grade, three strings; low-grade, one string.”
She Qingling thought a moment and asked, “Goods coming by waterway—are they taxed the same as those coming by both waterway and land, or differently?”
Wen Fengshu replied, “The same across the board. Goods entering the capital by water are taxed once at the dock, and once they’ve entered the capital it’s all treated the same.”
She Qingling nodded. “That’s fine then, but you must pay attention to conditions in each region—the annual harvests of mulberry farmers and weaving households, their yields—adjustments need to be made flexibly.”
Wen Fengshu had considered this too, but still took up the brush and ink on the table earnestly to add in She Qingling’s suggestion. Once he’d finished writing, he continued, “As for seasonal fruits, like pomegranates—under the previous dynasty it was five hundred cash per six baskets; we’ve raised it to six hundred…”
She Qingling cut him off: “Make expensive fruit a thousand cash. Those who can’t afford it won’t ever be able to afford it regardless, so for these refined luxury goods, pricing them higher doesn’t matter.”
Wen Fengshu hesitated, but in the end added it in as suggested. Seeing his hesitation, She Qingling laughed and said, “You needn’t worry about this. In the past, the people in Yandu who could afford such things have already been cut down; under the new order, sooner or later new people will rise to take their place. Things that maintain appearances of status shouldn’t be cut off for these new people—if the price is set high from the very start, they’ll simply take it as the established rule. Whether to buy or not is entirely up to them; no one’s forcing them. Once they get used to it gradually, it’ll be fine—far better than raising taxes later and having fruit prices spike, causing complaints.”
Wen Fengshu nodded: “Your foresight is admirable, sir.”
She Qingling smiled: “Also, do let the merchants know early—after paying the higher tax rate continuously for twelve months, only then can their family’s younger generation sit for the imperial exams normally. If tax payments are interrupted after passing the exams, that will be investigated.”
Wen Fengshu laughed, wrote for a while more, then looked up: “If I hadn’t said you had foresight before, I’d say it now—this covers everything thoroughly. Oh! Your grandson here really is well-behaved. Here we are, dead serious discussing state affairs, and he hasn’t caused the slightest disturbance.”
She Qingling glanced at the treasured grandson on his shoulder, gnawing on his own fist, and lifted the baby’s chubby leg to show off to Wen Fengshu: “Well, on the surface he’s not causing trouble, but look here.” His new robe now bore another large wet patch. Both men burst out laughing at this. At their age, such things simply didn’t bother them anymore. That daughters-in-law would let their fathers-in-law care for the children was, in its own way, a kind of favor being granted—otherwise, it would be a case of one person loving the child to death while the other feared it, wishing to keep a good eight miles’ distance.
That was exactly how it was in Wen Fengshu’s own household. Seeing how this man had such a soft, warm grandchild, he said enviously, “I’ll have my old wife bring the daughters-in-law over sometime to pay their respects to your Old Madam.”
She Qingling handed Gaoxing off to the wet nurse who’d just come in, and only after watching her leave did he laugh and say, “Why go through all that trouble back and forth—my Old Madam doesn’t have many companions to chat with anyway, so just come stay a while. We’re not strangers to each other. You’re the one who’s come late to the game and lost out. With a household as crowded as yours, trying to establish some property means scrimping from every corner—when will that ever end? I’ll tell you—next door in the Ministry of Works lane, the Ministry of Revenue lane, and the Ministry of Personnel lane, there are seven great mansions standing empty right now.”
Both men lived off the same imperial favor, and life in Yandu wasn’t easy for anyone—Wen Fengshu’s eyes lit right up at this news.
She Qingling sat down and picked up the ledger to look through, saying casually as if it were nothing much: “These are all places confiscated recently by the Ministry of Justice. Sooner or later they’ll be handed over to the Ministry of Revenue to deal with anyway. You can’t touch property in Yandu proper, but your children are all grown now, and your salary alone won’t be enough to set them up. In the end, whatever price is settled on a few of these places, taking care of a few Qingfeng properties—His Majesty won’t say anything about it.”
Hearing this, Wen Fengshu, unable to suppress his delight, began calculating in his head. Just as he was about to offer his thanks, a woman’s voice rang out loudly from outside the lane.
“Everybody come home~! Everybody come home!!”
He jumped up in fright. What was happening, that everyone needed to come?
She Qingling burst out laughing and pointed outside: “Don’t be alarmed, Minister Wen—that’s just calling the children home for lunch, it’s already noon! My Old Madam’s eldest great-grandson has the childhood name ‘Doulai’—Everybody-Come. See, isn’t that exactly what she’s calling?”
Wen Fengshu was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter—before he’d even finished, another cry came from outside: “Huahua-yo, huahua-yo~!”
“Where the heck have you run off to, you troublemaker!”
“Ma Tingting, where did you put my gold bracelet?”
“Shuhui, where’s Mother’s silk brocade handkerchief?”
“Guoyo!!”
“Xingyo!!”
“Taoyo!!”
And so, once again, the world dissolved into a joyous chaos of shrieking chaos.
And at that very moment, in the palace, the Emperor, his expression an unreadable mix of relief and confusion, asked the man below him: “Palace Attendant, that day, no matter how we called for you, you wouldn’t respond. You were secretly protecting Us in the shadows—We are deeply moved. But—”
But you ate my Xuan He’s snack, that’s just not right, is it?
Guan Si’er knelt before the imperial presence, looking at the enormous pile of rewards, his face utterly bloodless: “Your Majesty, it wasn’t me! I’ve been wronged!”