In the eleventh year of the Changshun era, on White Dew, the common people held their autumn communal rites, offering old wine and setting up stages to honor Yu the Great, the Earth God, the Flower Spirit, the Door Gods, the Silkworm Flower Mother, Jiang Ziya…

All year, the various gods only got these few days to feel it was truly a festival.

On the eighth day of the ninth month, a seagoing vessel entered the docks at Laixian, and a crowd of people crowded off the ship.

Huo Qiqian’s feet touched solid ground, and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. After more than two months of hardship on the road, her heart hanging by a thread at every turn, only now, home, did she feel this was truly the most wonderful place—nothing here was anything but good.

The seagoing vessel furled its sails, and a swarm of dockworkers rushed over to seek work. A dozen or so strong men worked the winches, chanting work songs as they hauled the crane arm, lowering down a wooden crate large enough to fit four official sedan chairs together.

“Left, left… hey, ease it down slowly, slowly now…”

Huo Qiqian heard her ever-restless son calling out orders behind her—he was everywhere, already competing for work with the dock laborers.

She turned to scold him, only to see her eldest son Xie Ximu, his face black and shiny with grime, coming down the gangplank. Home at last, and naturally he immediately put on his Earl of Xicheng robes, and the moment his feet touched ground he snapped open his folding fan with a flourish. It wasn’t even hot, but he had to keep fanning himself anyway.

Poor thing—born and raised in luxury and pampered indulgence, and by the time he reached the southwest he’d turned into a monkey of Jindian, leaping about everywhere. His martial skill wasn’t the best, but he was certainly the fastest at scampering, had the thinnest skin, and tanned the quickest.

Unbearable to look at! But couldn’t throw him away—he really was her son after all.

Huo Qiqian rubbed her forehead, pointed a finger at him and said: “You brat, still putting on this act of yours? Listen to me, we’re home now, from here on you’d better rein yourself in—even if it’s just an act, put on a proper, steady front for the next two years, so your mother can find you a wife.”

Xie Ximu feared nothing more than his mother’s nagging. Unlike An’er, who was steady and composed, he said lightly: “Mother, why bring this up out of nowhere? A wife? What do I need that for? I’m not even comfortable as it is—now I need some ancestor to boss me around too?”

Huo Qiqian glared: “You cheeky monkey, what nonsense is this? You’re of age—why shouldn’t you find a wife? Let me tell you, not only will you find one, we’ll start making inquiries early too, otherwise all the good girls will be snatched up by others…”

Ah, this was truly home—the moment they arrived she reverted to her true nagging self, endless and unstoppable.

Xie Ximu already regretted coming down first, and looked for an excuse to leave, but his mother grabbed hold of him and said: “You’re grown now, and from here on, whatever mischief you get up to, I won’t nag you anymore. Just one thing—put away all those ritual vessels of yours. Can’t we just eat from a proper bowl like normal living people, hm?”

This child had been kept too confined as a boy, and his temperament had turned eccentric as a result—he didn’t use ordinary bowls to eat; at eleven he’d gone and begged His Majesty for a set of small bronze ritual vessels, using a bronze tripod to cook and a ritual grain-vessel to eat from.

Beyond this, among children his age in Yandu, he was even more outrageous than Zheng Aman had been in his day—and Zheng Aman had at least feared His Majesty, while this one feared no one at all.

In the past people had tried to curry favor with him, sending invitations to drink—well, once they got to his home, whether it was a wedding or a birthday, he’d bring out this whole set of ritual items and use them regardless of occasion, and no one ever sought him out again after that.

This wasn’t ancient times—people in Liang now used iron implements in daily life; these items were now used only for ancestral offerings and burial goods with the dead, and how inauspicious was that?

But when people mentioned it too much, he’d say he was already a “living corpse,” suffocatingly frustrated all day—there wasn’t a single person in this world who had to have every meal, every bodily function, controlled by others like this.

Aiya, aiya, why was she nagging and driving her child away from her again? Huo Qiqian fell silent, using supreme, world-class effort to swallow two lifetimes’ worth of nagging back down.

Xie Ximu, as if pardoned, made to bolt, but Huo Qiqian called after his retreating back: “Remember what I said, or not?!”

“Got it, got it.”

An’er leaned against the ship’s railing, laughing heartily. When he finished laughing, he looked around, and after a while, frowning, called out: “Mother! Did you send word ahead? Why hasn’t anyone come from home to meet us?”

Something was strange indeed. Huo Qiqian folded her sleeves and looked around, finally spotting a familiar face tucked in a corner.

She called out loudly: “Xin Wudao!”

Xin Wudao, who had been waiting at the dock for over ten days, finally recognized the arrivals. His face lit with joyous relief, and he ran over and dropped to his knees before Huo Qiqian: “…Ma-Madam, you’ve finally returned! Something terrible has happened!”

He’d almost called her “Young Lady of the Heir,” then remembered the heir had already been stripped of his title and thrown into the Ministry of Justice’s prison.

And implicated by this, Prince Furui had been placed under house arrest by the Emperor, forbidden to leave home even a single step.

For that instant, the joyful travelers, just returned home, froze—four words spinning endlessly in their minds: something terrible has happened, something terrible has happened…

White Dew followed by Double Ninth, cool winds cutting through the flower chambers; last year, tall towers welcomed guests on horseback, this morning, an old man guards a quiet hall alone.

Huo Qiqian brought many people home with her, yet the group couldn’t enter through their own front gate—they went instead through the back entrance of the Prince Furui manor, the one used by servants selling vegetables.

Never mind returning to Qinwei Alley—that whole street, connected to the old family estate, had been sealed by the court. Not confiscated exactly, but with the official position gone, the family members had been forced out.

That day the Emperor had shouted: I’ll have you executed!

But he couldn’t actually execute him—Chen Dasheng was She Qingling’s adopted heir, and to punish by association would implicate She Qingling first and foremost, who as Great Liang’s Emperor himself, would be first in line.

This left the sovereign of all under heaven utterly frustrated.

She Qingling, who had never once wronged anyone in his life, had finally managed to raise a son, only for that son, after so few good days, to tear a hole straight through the heavens. Feeling the guilt himself, he’d handed over his princely seal without a word and gone home.

Even with Emperor Wu’s partiality toward him, the law had to be upheld somehow, so he was sentenced to self-reflection at home, forbidden to leave.

Huo Qiqian entered the courtyard, and after searching for a long while, found the old Prince in a secluded corner courtyard. In just a few months, the old man’s hair had turned entirely silver, and he’d grown stooped.

She looked around again—everything she’d worked so hard to build over the years, along with what the Prince Furui manor already had, was all simply gone?

Seeing his grandfather, She Wanlin’s heart sank with guilt; seeing his grandfather’s head of silver hair, he wished he could beat himself to death. How could he have let the old man worry himself to this state?

The old man’s face lit with joyful surprise, and seeing so many people had come, he said to Huo Qiqian somewhat apologetically: “You’ve… you’ve finally returned. Qian’er, ah, you didn’t even send word ahead. These past months we’ve been living off provisions sent by the Jiang family and other old relatives…”

A Prince, ashamed for the first time that his household’s rice jar ran too shallow.

Gennu’er, eyes wide, asked: “Grandfather, where’s Grandmother, where are the younger brothers?”

She Qingling said: “These past days, Dasheng’s three sworn brothers have been coming constantly to manage things. Not two days after the incident, several elders from the Jiang clan came with carriages and took your younger siblings to look after them.

I didn’t want them to go, but Dazhong and Dayi’s wives said they’d go along too, so I could rest easy without worry. But how can I rest easy raising nothing at all, right?”

Huo Qiqian’s eyes filled with tears, and she walked over and knelt before She Qingling: “Father, this daughter-in-law has failed in her duty—I didn’t raise our child well, and let you suffer such torment. This daughter-in-law was blind, and brought a scoundrel into this family who has implicated you.”

She truly ached with guilt. Ever since she’d had this father-in-law, she had cared for him with the utmost devotion—even something as simple as noodles, she’d personally grind the flour, passing it through the mill three times before it was fit for his mouth.

How had it come to this?

Like a nightmare.

She Wanlin’s steps grew heavy, feeling that all this calamity had originated with him. He walked step by step to his grandfather and slowly knelt, wrapping his arms around the old man’s waist and beginning to cry softly.

His grief was real—he didn’t care about the family fortune at all. It was seeing his grandfather so aged, so grey, that broke his heart to pieces.

She Qingling had thought about how he’d discipline this little scoundrel upon his return—he’d even prepared three rattan canes for family discipline—but seeing him safe, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry enough to strike him.

Worried his grandson would carry guilt and struggle to live afterward, he raised his hand high, then let it fall gently, patting his back and saying: “You, ah, you—don’t worry yourself. Your grandfather has lived through the hardest of times too. But you, foolish child, you mustn’t act recklessly from now on, understand? Grandfather… may not be able to protect you any longer.”

She Wanlin choked back silent sobs, and She Qingling stroked his head, smiling: “Truthfully, from the day your father came under my care, I knew this child had fire in his eyes, resentment in his heart—he had an injustice he needed to settle with this world. I didn’t originally want to take him in, but heaven arranged it so. Living day by day, he truly became my son… we truly became one family…”

He couldn’t continue.

Huo Qiqian stood and looked at Xie Ximu: “Father, was the Earl of Xicheng’s estate sealed too?”

She Qingling laughed at this. Whoever that title had once belonged to, as long as Xie Wu had lived, he’d take good care of the man’s son.

“No, that one was spared. When our family ran into trouble, everyone who could avoid trouble did so. It was Wuhao who ran around handling everything on the outside. Your husband may be a scoundrel, but the friends and relatives around him are full of genuine warmth.”

He even lifted his own robe to show Huo Qiqian: “Your sisters-in-law have had a hard time too. Your husband took the blame on himself, but they could have avoided it and chose instead to go to prison with him—didn’t even wait to be questioned, told the authorities everything themselves.

Ah, let’s not even speak of it. How hard this must be for Wanru and the others, and still they think to look after me. See this robe—Sansu made it for me…”

In the past, he’d held himself high and addressed them formally as Madam Zhang, Madam Ding, and so on.

Huo Qiqian, seeing the courtyard crowded with people, said to Xie Ximu: “My son, take these brothers and friends to rest at your Earl’s estate for now. Your grandfather and I need to discuss your father’s situation.”

Xie Ximu didn’t want to leave, but with his family facing such overwhelming disaster, he couldn’t bring himself to say empty words about weathering hardship together or being determined to save his father. The Old Chen family rule was: when the sky falls, don’t collapse yourself first—take care of what’s in front of you first.

So he acted the part of a proper man, pulled his younger brother along, called for the new blade-brothers and the friends from Fenglan Mountain, and left.

She Wanlin followed silently behind his brother, doing whatever he was told.

Once the group had left, She Qingling said, somewhat comforted: “These children of yours—you’ve raised them well.”

Huo Qiqian helped him sit: “They’ve grown up. Going through this, they should understand things better now.”

She Qingling smiled: “Ah, a hundred times better than their father…”

They sat down, and She Qingling recounted the whole affair—the grudge between Chen Dasheng and the Tan family, how Chen Dasheng had arranged things behind the scenes, how the plan had been carried out.

Some of it Huo Qiqian already knew, but some she didn’t, and she said in surprise: “So you’re saying, in the few months I was gone, that scoundrel drained His Majesty’s private funds completely dry?”

She Qingling nodded helplessly: “The treasury’s been empty for a long time now—you should know, our previous dynasty was ruined by the river’s flooding, and when Great Liang was founded, whatever hardships the previous dynasty faced, we inherited just as much, if not more. Every year when the fish route floods, the old Chen family ancestral graves are still submerged, not yet resurfaced—that tells you how much the people downstream have suffered.

We, ruler and ministers alike, live frugally, scraping together whatever funds we can to fill the gaps, scraping together more to fill more gaps. The treasury is the foundation of Great Liang—if outsiders knew the treasury was empty, before foreign enemies could even take advantage, someone like Tan Shouyi would surely have seized the chance to stir up trouble already. So whenever there’s any disaster anywhere, as long localities apply for aid, the Ministry of Finance disburses funds smoothly and promptly—all to maintain the illusion that the treasury is flush.”

Huo Qiqian sighed. Only now did she truly understand what she’d done—she had ruined Chen Dasheng’s entire careful plan, and with her own hands sent her husband straight into prison.

Seeing his daughter-in-law’s face troubled, She Wanlin comforted her: “Qian’er, don’t worry too much. Look, these past while I’ve taken stock of everything at home—I feel bad about it, but I sold off your shops, your land, your estates and converted them all to cash… who would have thought, under this kind of pressure, this old man actually managed to scrape together five million strings of cash. Turns out the old saying is true—a ruined household is still worth ten thousand strings.”

Huo Qiqian looked at her own empty rooms and asked: “Father, what did you raise the money for?”

She Qingling sighed: “For their sins, of course! They draw the nation’s salary, and when the country faces crisis, they ought to be the first to die wrapped in horsehide on the battlefield! And what do these people do instead? Such shameless, worthless things!”

The old man was truly furious. In his whole life he’d rarely cursed, but now he slapped his leg angrily, and after cursing, continued:

“These past years, His Majesty privately used to tell Wen Fengshu often, seeing our treasury empty, at least there was something stashed away outside for emergencies, some backup funds—so that whatever great crisis might come, we wouldn’t be entirely helpless.

But your husband, good grief—one single scheme that spanned all under heaven, and he’s driven His Majesty to utter despair, and shaken this whole stable Great Liang to its foundations! He deserves to die a thousand deaths, and I—not one bit!—feel sorry for him!”

Saying he didn’t feel sorry for him, yet why the tears?

Huo Qiqian quickly held out a handkerchief for him, but the old man refused it, instead wiping roughly at his face with his sleeve, saying bitterly: “I don’t even deserve to use such things. I failed to raise him properly, this torment is what I deserve. You’ve seen how Tan Shouyi’s been causing trouble for two months now—he still hasn’t attacked, but the Ministry of War officials come to His Majesty every day demanding money and grain—without funds and provisions, how can the army even march…”

He gritted his teeth, lips trembling as he spoke: “…Dasheng, he, ah! These past years he’s been delayed by all this river work business. His Majesty hasn’t yet moved to enforce the full weight of the law, and for now the old statutes still apply—among them, the provisions for petitioning for leniency, the Eight Deliberations, reduced sentences through ransom, noble clan fines—these laws are all still in effect, which is fortunate for them, truly.

Now, as for this whole entanglement with the Tan family—if the Tan family wins, none of us survive. If the Tan family loses, this old man thinks, the best outcome your husband can hope for is to die with his body intact—he deserves to die, that much is certain! But Guan Si’er and the others might still be able to buy their way out with silver.”

The old man stood, and Huo Qiqian quickly reached out to support him. The two of them wandered through the empty household together. She Qingling didn’t much care about material possessions, and said: “What little we have left of the household, plus this old man’s princely title… I’ve done some service to the state, so I hope His Majesty will show mercy. Jintai and the others’ children might still get to see their father again. It’s only you… you’re a good one. He didn’t deserve you.”

Outsiders always said Huo’s origins were too humble, unworthy of Chen Dasheng—but She Wanlin knew better. This daughter-in-law of his was a rare, exceptional woman, one in a million. Both the Chen and She households, in truth, had always been sustained by these outsider wives—other people’s beloved daughters.

They came with their dowries, bore you children, managed the household and cared for your parents—and how were they repaid?

With the title of widow.

Thinking of this, the old man stopped walking again and cursed: “He—his death would be no loss at all!”

Having said this, he swayed unsteadily.

Afraid he might collapse, Huo Qiqian hurried to support him back to his seat in the main hall. After he’d drunk half a cup of water and his color had returned somewhat, she asked carefully: “Father, in your view, is his father certain to die? Is there truly no other way?”

She Qingling shook his head. Seeing his daughter-in-law, even facing this looming catastrophe, remain so composed, actively searching for solutions—truly, there was no way.

He said helplessly: “How could we save him? Even Empress Dowager Jiang and our own old lady, sworn sisters as they were, and even she’s declared she won’t get involved in worldly matters again, won’t ever set foot in the Great Liang Palace again—yet even she went for that scoundrel’s sake. No use!

Can we return Great Liang a full treasury? Can we make Tan Shouyi withdraw his troops? Ah? These few million strings I’ve gathered look like a lot, but it’s not even enough to feed the imperial army for three months. Ai!”

Huo Qiqian said nothing, thinking to herself—should she break into the prison? A jailbreak would be simple enough; never mind one Chen Dasheng, she could pull out a whole string of Chen Dashengs if she wanted.

The problem was, with a disaster this enormous, and knowing that scoundrel as well as she did, even if the court didn’t execute him, he’d submit to the law himself. That was exactly the kind of stubborn, mule-headed bastard he was!

Thinking of this, Huo Qiqian’s thoughts scattered in confusion—one moment aching for her children, the next aching for that scoundrel who’d implicated himself. As her thoughts churned, she heard her father-in-law repeat: could we return Great Liang a full treasury, or make Tan Shouyi withdraw his troops?

Huo Qiqian suddenly went rigid.

She Qingling, having vented, felt somewhat better—carrying a burden alone was different from sharing it with family.

Once he’d finished pouring out his feelings, he noticed his daughter-in-law’s mouth hanging open, her eyes vacant as if in a daze. She Qingling called out twice; Huo Qiqian didn’t answer or move. He nudged her; she swayed dully.

Thinking he’d frightened her, She Qingling hurriedly stood, forgetting his own frailty—his daughter-in-law was a delicate woman, why had he gone and scared her like that?

No—delicate she was not, but she really had been startled. Aiya, what carelessness on his part, how could he have been so careless?

She Qingling called out loudly for help: “Someone, someone, fetch… fetch the physician, quickly, fetch the physician…”

His sleeve was tugged from below; looking down, it was his daughter-in-law, who said to him: “Father, tell me—if we really could return Great Liang a full treasury, would His Majesty pardon our scoundrel’s crime?”

That was it—She Qingling clutched his chest, tears streaming, thinking his daughter-in-law had truly lost her mind.

Night fell, and the serious offenders’ cellblock at the Ministry of Justice prison was as lively as ever.

Chen Dasheng crouched in the corner, curled up in the straw like a hen guarding her eggs, watching the commotion across the way.

Across from him was Hu Yougui, currently facing the wall in a sulk. Poor Yuwen Xiaoqiao had avoided him for ten years, and now that she’d finally come around, willing to marry him—heh, now Hu Yougui wasn’t willing anymore.

Karma! What goes around comes around!

These days Yuwen Xiaoqiao came every day with all sorts of delicacies, bringing sheepskin bedding and imperial embroidered quilts from home to visit him in prison. Hu Yougui would rather eat prison food, would rather sleep on straw, than even turn his head to look at her once.

[Content continues with dialogue between Yuwen Xiaoqiao and Hu Yougui, then Huo Qiqian visiting Chen Dasheng in prison]

Yuwen Xiaoqiao, heartbroken and guilt-ridden, coaxed and pleaded with him softly, but he still wouldn’t turn around, showing her only his back.

From across the way came the fragrance of lotus fish. Chen Dasheng watched Yuwen Xiaoqiao fanning her hand, sending the smell wafting over toward him.

Tch—that was just mean. Fanning with both hands sending the smell this way, and not offering a single bite? Wasn’t that just wicked?

Ever since Chen Dasheng and the others had arrived at the Ministry of Justice prison, visitors were allowed freely—no one worried about them passing messages, or even escaping.

All of Great Liang knew the old blade-brothers kept their word. Even if someone came to break them out, they wouldn’t leave.

Moreover, these men had never once thrown their weight around. Whenever they encountered familiar faces, regardless of rank or status, they always greeted them warmly, and whenever anyone else was in trouble, they’d lend a hand. So they were very well liked.

This being the case, the eldest Imperial Consort husband made a habit of stopping by for a stroll, the chief of the Ministry of Justice would bring aged wine to drink with them, and even some Ministry of War officials who resented them would sneak in after dark from time to time.

Lower-ranking officials thought about things differently than those higher up—they felt that men who would endure such hardship for old brothers, who could give up boundless wealth so easily, were true men of honor, living legends.

Respecting them in their hearts, they treated them well; making things difficult for them was simply not something anyone wanted to do. For other prisoners, jail meant suffering, but for these men, even the prison meals were cooked specially by the jailer’s wife.

The only pity was that the fragrant prison meals, once delivered, were eaten only by Marquis Chen himself—the other six had family members bringing them meals three times a day, each with different dishes.

Perhaps out of resentment that Marquis Chen had implicated their husbands, the wives’ greatest anger was refusing to send him food.

Chen Dasheng felt guilty too, and whenever he saw his sisters-in-law, he’d shrink instinctively into the corner, punishing himself—he’d even requested heavy shackles and chains, curling up in his cell like a brooding hen.

By the time Huo Qiqian arrived, it was already late. She’d prepared some silver for bribes, but to her surprise, the moment she said she’d come to see Chen Dasheng, she was led there smiling all the way, shown in, and the door locked behind her once she’d entered.

A torch flickered at the prison entrance; Huo Qiqian stood at the doorway for a while before her eyes adjusted enough to see the path, then carried her food box forward. Just as she turned a corner, she heard a delighted voice call out: “Sister-in-law, you’re back!”

Huo Qiqian turned to look—behind the bars was Tong Jintai.

Tong Jintai, disheveled and unkempt, poked half his head out and asked: “Sister-in-law, did you find An’er? Is everyone at home well? Is Gennu’er back? Did you go see the old master? Is he well? I sent my wife to check, but the old master won’t see anyone…”

As he rambled on, another head poked out from the next cell over, and Yu Qingguan scolded: “Jintai, rein it in a bit. It’s been so long since Little Sister-in-law’s seen the boss—what are you babbling on for.”

Tong Jintai laughed: “Right, right. Sister-in-law, my brother’s in the last cell.”

Still exactly the same as always—Huo Qiqian felt comforted by this. She opened the food box and took out lotus-wrapped packages to pass through.

Tong Jintai, embarrassed, waved his hands: “No, no, don’t give it to me. Sister-in-law, take that to my brother. My wife already came by twice today…”

Seeing he genuinely wouldn’t accept it, Huo Qiqian put the food away and walked on with her box, not needing anyone to point the way—she could find Chen Dasheng just by following the smell and watching for the right face.

Yuwen Xiaoqiao had spread out fine wine and delicacies on the ground, and though she saw Huo Qiqian, she paid her no mind, patiently coaxing: “Guier, won’t you look at me?”

Huo Qiqian took a breath, looked into the dark corner, and called out: “Chen Dasheng!”

From the darkness, after a long while, came a reply: “Ah, you’re… you’re back.”

Hu Yougui sat up, walked a few steps to the bars, reached out and quickly gathered up several of the nearby dishes, then jerked his chin at Yuwen Xiaoqiao, signaling for her to leave quickly.

After all these days, her big man had finally acknowledged her. Yuwen Xiaoqiao was overjoyed, and happily went along with what he wanted, scooping up the food box with her one free arm and leaving.

Watching her go, Huo Qiqian still had the mood to tease: “So you two are together now?”

Hu Yougui’s face was grimy, all traces of his good looks gone, and his smile lacked any charm now. He had no patience for teasing either, and asked: “Sister-in-law, did you find An’er?”

Huo Qiqian nodded: “Found him. He’s fine, staying at his brother’s estate now. Don’t worry about him—if you want to know more, ask him yourself once you’re out.”

Hu Yougui smiled weakly, thinking to himself, when would he ever get out?

“Ah, well, that’s good then.”

Having said this, he shrank back into his corner, curling up like his brother, motionless, brooding like a hen.

As if by agreement, everyone fell silent and retreated into themselves.

Huo Qiqian looked around, then walked up to the bars and prepared to sit down.

“Don’t sit there, it’s filthy.”

The great man had finally opened his mouth. Huo Qiqian’s heart lightened, and she opened the food box, taking out its contents.

“Come out.”

Chen Dasheng hesitated, then finally shuffled out, his chains clinking.

The sight of him made her heart ache.

Huo Qiqian, from all her exertions in Jindian, had grown thin and dark; Chen Dasheng, punishing himself, looked no better. But these were two strong-willed people—neither would say something soft like “you’ve gotten thin.” She only said stiffly: “What do you want to eat? I’ll feed you.”

Chen Dasheng had no appetite at all, but he looked at his wife with hungry eyes, both aching with love and guilt.

Huo Qiqian ached too, watching Chen Dasheng look so guilty and helpless.

A thousand words between them, yet in their hearts there was only one: It’s my fault. I acted rashly without thinking it through, and dragged him (her) down with me.

She carefully fed Old Chou a full meal, and once he truly couldn’t eat any more, Huo Qiqian packed up the food box and asked: “Dasheng.”

Chen Dasheng answered with unusual gentleness: “Mm—?”

Huo Qiqian sat properly and asked seriously: “Tell me, what kind of man is the Emperor?”

“His Majesty?”

Huo Qiqian nodded earnestly: “Mm.”

Chen Dasheng thought seriously, and answered carefully: “The history books say a true ruler should revere heaven and honor his ancestors, heed advice and accept criticism, be frugal and cherish the people, favor the worthy and keep the unworthy at a distance, and remain diligent and cautious. His Majesty falls short of most of these. Since Great Liang’s founding, he’s never had a single easy day—everyone has pushed and pulled at him until he became solitary and friendless.”

Huo Qiqian looked puzzled: “That sounds almost like praise, the way you say it.”

Chen Dasheng bared his teeth in a grin: “It is praise. Whatever his countless flaws, there’s one thing—he carries the common people in his heart. That alone is enough.”

Huo Qiqian’s expression grew complicated, and finally she made up her mind: “Then I understand now.”

Chen Dasheng laughed: “Understand what?”

Huo Qiqian only said: “Tomorrow when you’re out, I’ll tell you.”

Chen Dasheng fell silent, staring hard at his wife, and after a long while managed to say: “All right.”

Watching his wife pick up the food box to leave, his heart filled with unbearable reluctance, and he gripped the bars and called after her: “Huo Qiqian!”

Huo Qiqian turned back: “Something else?”

Chen Dasheng’s lips trembled: “If… if there’s a next life… you, you…”

Huo Qiqian cut him off, pointing at him and complaining: “You want to claim me for another lifetime too? Not happening—don’t you dare say anything about waiting for me down below, you scoundrel…”

She turned to leave, but after walking some distance, still feeling unsatisfied, she spun back around and pointed at Chen Dasheng, scolding: “I’m telling you, Chen Dasheng—this lifetime, marrying you was the worst deal I ever made!”

Walking further away, she turned back again and shouted low: “A terrible loss!”