Below the restaurant everything erupted into chaos—countless voices shouting that someone was ambushing the prison carts, followed by the unmistakable clash of close combat.

Chen Dasheng and Li Jingui had both come up from the battlefield, and they were the fastest to move in that room, reaching the window in an instant—but they didn’t go down, only leaned against the window frame, heads pressed together, peering below.

The two of them not going down made Wei Xuanhe frantic with anxiety—eyes bloodshot, mouth trembling, his whole body shaking as he stared at Chen Dasheng.

He had long since heard all sorts of tales about this Marquis of the City Gate—stories of tremendous valor, which he admired without end. He’d already begun composing in his mind, in anticipation of this legendary “Old Blade” going down there, how he would fend off the enemy, how he would take on a hundred single-handedly, how he would stand imposingly astride the main street with his blade drawn—he was going to write a grand piece about it.

The shouting and killing below grew thunderous… why wasn’t he going down?

Chen Dasheng watched for a while, then straightened up and shook his head. “Six men to a formation, infantry hand signals—first time I’ve seen this kind of coordination. A bit loose, though.”

He reached out and closed the window slit, and Li Jingui, no longer able to see, didn’t seem angry at all—he nodded and said to Chen Dasheng, “Mm, the old Gui family always trained their troops this way—their drillmasters teach that kind of coordination. Six to a formation—the ones over there must number around a hundred and fifty or so.” He let out a breath. “Well, aren’t they bold. Making a move right under the Son of Heaven’s nose—whoever’s behind this, it’s over for them. Not one of them is walking away alive.”

The saying goes that a fire at the city gate brings disaster to the fish in the moat—the onlookers gathered by the roadside shrieked and scattered, and quite a few fled into this very restaurant. A crowd rushed noisily up to the second floor, and in their panic pushed open the door of this room; there came a thud, and three or four women burst in—only to see the room was full of men, and fled out again in alarm…

Li Jingui glanced at Kang Rui, who went and shut the door firmly, bolted it, and stood with his back against it.

Chen Dasheng sat back down with Li Jingui and resumed eating, as screams continued to rise from below. Wei Xuanhe forced down his excitement and sat, but seeing the two of them acting as though nothing at all were happening, he could bear it no longer and finally asked, “You two? It’s turned into a real battle down there. Aren’t you going down to help?”

Li Jingui picked a quail egg from his bowl, chewed it for a moment, then said, “Go down and do what?”

Wei Xuanhe was utterly astonished. He pointed downward, indignant. “Help out!”

Li Jingui clicked his tongue and gave him a look of some exasperation. “Help with what, make things worse? Am I mad enough to go do something so thankless?”

Wei Xuanhe jumped up, peeked out the window again a few times, then carefully retreated and lowered his voice. “There are plenty—plenty of our own men lying dead down there… our soldiers, lying on the ground. Go look, why don’t you? Really!”

Li Jingui, thoroughly exasperated, said, “No need to look—the Gui family’s troops eat Daliang’s rations too, who knows whose men are lying down there? Friend and foe don’t wear signs on their foreheads! If I cut down the wrong man, whose fault is that? Yours?”

Seeing Li Jingui keep teasing Wei Xuanhe, Chen Dasheng kicked him, then turned to explain to the earnest man, “The first thing we learned in the new recruits’ camp was that everything follows military orders—if it’s not our job to do, don’t go recklessly lending a hand. That way you live a bit longer.”

This time even Kang Rui was startled; he didn’t dare ask, only stared wide-eyed at the two of them.

Wei Xuanhe, furious, pointed back and forth between them. “You, you, you, you both…”

The killing and clashing below grew truly grating on the ears, and Li Jingui, growing irritable himself, tossed down his chopsticks and said to Wei Xuanhe, “Brother Zhiheng, that shout you just heard, about someone ambushing the prison carts—could you tell who shouted it?”

Zhiheng was Wei Xuanhe’s courtesy name.

Wei Xuanhe naturally had no idea, and shook his head vigorously.

Li Jingui said, “From start to finish, it’s all been the onlooking crowd shouting—not a single soldier has called for backup. How exactly do you expect us to go down there?”

Wei Xuanhe sat stunned for a long moment, unable to make sense of it, and looked to Chen Dasheng instead. Chen Dasheng told him plainly, “For a raid of this scale, there are at least two military marquises overseeing things today. Even if we don’t know which unit of the Imperial Bodyguard is involved, there’s certainly one there, and the men of Jiu Si Tang besides. If they’re not calling for help, that means they can handle it themselves. If the two of us jumped down there rashly, whether we helped or not, we’d only be causing them trouble.”

Wei Xuanhe looked dazed, then sat properly, dragged over a chair, and curled his legs up onto it, muttering, “How would that be causing trouble? Aren’t you two supposed to be famous generals?”

Li Jingui shook his head helplessly. He didn’t want to say more, but was afraid of stirring up needless trouble, and didn’t want Wei Xuanhe to think less of him either, so he could only say, “The so-called famous generals on the battlefield are mostly the ones eager to show off, but who don’t actually know how to fight.”

Chen Dasheng nodded. “Fighting outnumbered is always a last resort—that kind of desperate situation only arises from a failed strategy. The truly good generals are always the steady ones. Take Earl Chang, for instance—that’s the kind of general he is. If men are to serve under someone, soldiers would be willing to serve as this earl’s foot soldiers, because at the very least there’s a chance of surviving. He fights only steady, careful battles—which is why you all think he’s not so impressive. As for someone like General Tan the Second, well… heh.”

After he finished, Li Jingui looked at him and nodded. “A true general of talent can calculate every point of danger before the battle even begins. You’re thinking along the right lines—if we went down there rashly like that, no matter how many we cut down, it would only prove that whoever commanded today’s operation failed to account for contingencies. That would be a serious mistake on their part.

If we helped and did well, my grandfather is the reigning Grand Preceptor, and he’s She Bàn Bàn’s only heir, His Majesty’s most valued ‘Old Blade’—people wouldn’t dare offend us, and they’d have to hand us half the credit, leaving the actual soldiers to have risked their lives for nothing.”

Chen Dasheng picked up the thread. “Exactly right. And if things went badly, I’m His Majesty’s Marquis of the City Gate, he’s His Majesty’s adopted son—that would be a slap in the face to our elders. If either of us were hurt, no one would say anything at first, but our elders would inevitably resent whoever commanded today’s operation—which is exactly the kind of trouble we’d be causing them… If we went out there and ran into someone petty-minded, they’d end up hating the two of us to no end…”

Before Chen Dasheng could finish, someone leapt onto the roof and kicked open the window, trying to jump into the room. Wei Xuanhe let out a startled cry—but by the time he’d finished shouting, it was already all over.

He saw Li Jingui grab a stool and swing it at the intruder, but Chen Dasheng was even faster—he moved straight toward the man’s blade, and only as he closed on the blade edge did he sidestep. Then, as the man let out a scream, his shoulder blades on both sides had already been stabbed clean through with two chopsticks; unable to muster any strength, he was struck square on by the incoming stool and sent tumbling off the eaves and down through the roof tiles.

So fast—incredibly fast!

Once the man had fallen, Wei Xuanhe stopped shouting too and jumped down, rushing to the window, where he saw several pursuing guardsmen had already gone up and finished the man off with a few more strokes. Having dealt with him, they all looked up together at Chen Dasheng and Li Jingui, smiled, and cupped their fists in salute.

Li Jingui smiled too, waving a hand, and Wei Xuanhe and Kang Rui watched as these several men dragged off a few bloodied bodies of uncertain fate, heading further off to reinforce elsewhere.

Neither of them had ever seen anything like this before, and their legs went a little weak beneath them.

Li Jingui shut the window again, sat down, clinked cups with Chen Dasheng, drank it down in one go, and said, “Brother Feilian’s hands sure are fast.”

Chen Dasheng nodded, looking down at his own hands. “They itch. I really did want to go down.”

Who wouldn’t! Li Jingui, hearing this, was full of envy too, and gave a nod and a hum of agreement.

The sounds of fighting from the long street below grew louder still, thick with the smell of blood spreading through the air, the scent growing more and more familiar. Both Chen Dasheng and Li Jingui were veterans of this, and having gone nearly a year without any such action, they found themselves unable to suppress their battle instincts. Neither dared look, afraid they might lose control and jump down, so they could only suppress it cup by cup, cold sweat breaking out over their bodies—which frightened the other two into trembling all the more.

The chaos below went on for a full half-hour before it finally began to quiet down, and from far away came the crisp, orderly tramp of marching soldiers.

Chen Dasheng puffed out his cheeks and let out a breath. “Time for martial law and inspections.”

Li Jingui nodded, reached into his boot and pulled out a bronze token, then waved to Chen Dasheng, who likewise reached into his own boot and handed over a token.

Pointing at the door, Li Jingui instructed Kang Rui, “Go hang it up outside.”

Kang Rui, looking at this completely transformed young master, steadied his weak legs, walked to the door, hung up the token, and closed the door again.

Wei Xuanhe and Kang Rui had assumed the long street would settle into quiet after this bout of fighting, but to their surprise, in less than half an incense-stick’s time, it grew even noisier.

The Governor of Yandu Metropolitan Prefecture and the Prefect of Shuntian personally led a host of clerks and constables from their offices, coordinating with the Five Chief Military Commissions to conduct a house-by-house search from one end of the street to the other. Anyone not registered in the household records, or without three or more witnesses to vouch for their innocence, was taken away.

This inspection was thorough and swift, allowing no argument. Take, for instance, a worker at this very restaurant—he had just come from the countryside, having only arrived two days before, and had only a single witness; the innkeeper couldn’t vouch for his background, so he was swiftly hauled off without being allowed so much as an extra word of explanation…

The inspection continued until the very first hour of the third watch before the curfew was finally lifted, and at once the streets filled with people clustering together to discuss what had happened.

Chen Dasheng and the others sat until their very bones felt weak, drank a few more cups, and went downstairs half-tipsy.

Wei Xuanhe took out silver to settle the bill, but couldn’t find anyone to take it. A trembling attendant came out and explained that the innkeeper had been implicated and summoned to Shuntian Prefecture for questioning.

Still, they couldn’t just take advantage of the situation—Wei Xuanhe took brush and ink from the counter, wrote out a note and sealed it, telling them to have the innkeeper send someone to his household gatehouse tomorrow to settle the bill once he returned.

When he came back out, he saw Chen Dasheng and Li Jingui both standing in a corner, staring at one particular spot—the exact place where the man had fallen from the roof.

Looking closely, Wei Xuanhe found that there wasn’t a single drop of blood to be seen there anymore—had it actually been cleaned up?

Wei Xuanhe didn’t know whether to laugh or be astonished, and said in surprise, “At a time like this, who bothers cleaning that up?”

Hearing this, the others turned to look at Wei Xuanhe, then at the crowds gathering nearby. Chen Dasheng turned to look toward the street entrance, while Li Jingui walked over to Wei Xuanhe’s side to explain. “Brother Zhiheng, if any trace is left here, these common folk will come to gawk. As long as the mark stays for a day, they’ll stare at it for a day; leave it a month, they’ll stare at it a month. This is Yandu—blocking up any single thoroughfare is nothing but trouble. Understand now?”

Wei Xuanhe had had too many of his assumptions overturned today. He stood there thinking for a long while, and once he’d worked it out, sighed. “You people from the Ministry of War, are you all like this?”

Chen Dasheng found his own horse in the stable, led it out, and said with a smile, “More or less. This business of guarding the capital, it was Liu Daya who taught me…” As he spoke, he saw several units of mounted men pass by on the main street. Once he’d watched them go, Chen Dasheng clicked his tongue. “Someone’s in trouble now. Whose watch was it today?”

Li Jingui hadn’t ridden a horse; his family’s carriage was nowhere to be found now either, so he simply walked out alongside him, asking as they went, “How many do you think they got away with?”

Kang Rui, who had been holding his tongue the whole while, finally couldn’t help himself and exclaimed, “They got away with some?!”

Heads along the street turned toward them at once, and even the hidden eyes lurking in the crowd suddenly sharpened.

Li Jingui, exasperated, reached into his boot again, pulled out his token, held it up and turned in a full circle, then turned a sour face on Kang Rui, who was already so full of regret he slapped himself twice.

Wei Xuanhe was burning with curiosity. He managed to hold it in until they’d nearly cleared the street entrance and it looked empty, then asked quietly, “How did you two know the ambush on the prison carts succeeded?”

There was nothing particularly secret about this, so Chen Dasheng turned and told him, “A signal horse rode out.”

Wei Xuanhe didn’t understand, and asked, “A signal horse?”

Chen Dasheng nodded. “Mm, it’s a fast horse used in the army to relay messages. Starting today, entry and exit from Yandu will be a hassle for the next three days, and I’d guess every side road and byway in the surrounding area will have checkpoints by now too.”

He finished, then looked at Wei Xuanhe curiously. “You’re different from the others I usually see.”

Wei Xuanhe understood at once what Chen Dasheng meant. Among the young masters of Yandu, only those who had shared hardship with Daliang could keep company with people like Chen Dasheng—even his own father had said that His Majesty was grooming them to be the chief ministers of the next reign.

As for people like himself, whose families had sheltered them closely, they’d spent the years of chaos hiding out in the countryside. His father, too, had told him not to think about advancement for the next five years, that the proper course was to build up a solid foundation steadily and humbly.

There was no shame in hiding away—at the very least, his family members were all still with him; back then, only a handful of His Majesty’s adopted sons had even survived.

Wei Xuanhe laughed. “That’s true enough. I lived out in the countryside before—I’ve never seen the world at all, must be quite a sight to you all.”

Li Jingui was still studying alongside the imperial princes inside the palace, while this fellow already served in the same court as his own father—he could hardly address him as an equal anymore.

Chen Dasheng smiled, and seeing his modesty, offered him a bit of guidance. “Go home today and don’t speak of this outside. Just pretend you saw nothing.”

The Gui family’s roots and branches ran deep; though everyone was curious, to gossip about it in public would ultimately reflect poorly on one’s character.

Wei Xuanhe nodded at once, glanced left and right, and took his leave of them. As for his servant boy and his hand warmer and fur cloak—he had no idea where they’d ended up by now, and didn’t bother looking for them either.

Watching Wei Xuanhe go, Chen Dasheng said to Li Jingui, “Zhiheng’s been scared stiff.”

Li Jingui looked a bit dazed, and after a while said, “Ah~ I didn’t expect he’d turn out to be such a timid soul. Being cooped up that long really does make a person dull-witted—but honestly, I rather like this dull, honest streak of his. Better by far than that pack of brutes A’Man runs with.”

“Everyone’s got their own strengths, none of them are bad people,” Chen Dasheng said, reining in his horse to look toward the street entrance.

At the inner city gate, Liu Daya was leading a group of Imperial Guards conducting inspections on everyone entering and leaving.

Chen Dasheng smiled, led his horse over, and said, “Brother Liu got called out too?”

Liu Daya had already known he was somewhere in the streets. Seeing him now, he pulled him and Li Jingui off to a secluded corner and said, “Everyone else is beside the point—the main thing is Gui Rong got away. In the depths of the twelfth month, no less—twice, three times now they’ve made our Emperor sick to his stomach, and now they’ve gone and spoiled New Year’s for the whole of Yandu. Hmph~ There’ll be no end of work over this!”

Chen Dasheng patted his shoulder in comfort. “Rough work, that. My father wasn’t over there, was he?”

Liu Daya waved a hand. “No, no, our Bàn Bàn only handles matters for the Ministry of Revenue—he’s too lazy to get involved in criminal matters. But His Majesty…” he lowered his voice to Chen Dasheng, “His Majesty’s been in a temper since yesterday.”

Chen Dasheng pursed his lips, took hold of the reins, and rode straight through the inner city checkpoint—no one stopped him. Li Jingui didn’t follow along either; not wanting the trouble, he turned and went straight home.

Before long, She Qingling, in his small courtyard chamber, looked up to see his beloved son standing there. He set down his book in some surprise, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile as he asked, “What brings you here?”

Chen Dasheng sat himself down across from him, a touch sheepish. “Came first thing this morning.” He reached over and poured himself a cup from Bàn Bàn’s teapot before continuing, “Went wandering through the busy part of town, and got held up right on East Avenue—saw the whole thing from start to finish. On my way out, Liu Daya told me Gui Rong had gotten away.”

That Gui Rong had escaped was old news to She Qingling by now. He looked at Chen Dasheng, and instead brought up another matter.

“With the Gui family fallen, the post of Provincial Administration Commissioner of Jindian has opened up.”

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng sighed. “A frontier governor’s post—Father, what do you think he was thinking, letting his territory fall into such a state?”

She Qingling took a dried leaf to use as a bookmark, tucked it into the book, and said flatly, “A poor man suddenly comes into fortune—the seat fits, but the head doesn’t follow along. He didn’t have the ability to match the hat of a frontier governor he’d been given, so naturally he couldn’t hold onto his position. That border region was always a complicated place to begin with—the Gui family’s collapse was long foreshadowed.” He looked up at his adopted son and then said something that genuinely moved him: “Yesterday Li Zhang, along with two ministers from the Six Ministries, jointly recommended Tan Shouyi to take over as Provincial Administration Commissioner of Jindian. I didn’t object—it’s more or less settled now.”

Chen Dasheng’s hand, holding his teacup, was perfectly steady. When he set the cup down, though, the sound of it was rather loud.

He stood up and went to open his adoptive father’s cabinet to fetch him a change of clothes, his movements not quiet at all, carrying a faint trace of anger—though someone who didn’t know him well, who wasn’t paying close attention, wouldn’t have noticed at all.

She Qingling, at his leisure, stood with his hands behind his back, suppressing a laugh as he asked, “What are you rifling through my things for?”

Chen Dasheng ignored him, walked to the door and called for two young eunuchs to come carry off the trunks of belongings, then, having given the order, turned back to She Qingling and said, “It’s not as if the rest of us are back home enjoying ourselves while you’re left all alone out here fending for yourself.”

Bàn Bàn nodded in satisfaction and said with a smile, “Not bad phrasing, that—you’ve made some progress. I’m not coming, I’m used to being on my own.”

But Chen Dasheng glared at him. “Well, I’m not used to it! I was thinking about it just yesterday—I’ve got a whole household back there, the old lady’s finally at ease with everyone bustling around her, warm and lively, so why should you be the only one holding down a lonely fort here in this palace all by yourself? His Majesty has his own family—what do you have? Just me, that’s all. If I don’t look after you, with that stubborn streak of yours, you’ll spend the whole festival composing thirty or fifty poems of loneliness.”

Bàn Bàn couldn’t help laughing at that, scolding him even as he did, “Thirty or fifty, indeed—not even one! No wonder your wife’s always calling you a fool. Hah, I’ve been watching you jumping around like this lately—what, were you actually angry just now?”

Chen Dasheng pulled off a cloth, wrapped up his father’s clothes, tied it into a bundle and dropped it on the table. “Gone in the blink of an eye—I’m over it already.”

Bàn Bàn laughed, and finally undid his steward’s robe and tossed it onto the kang. Chen Dasheng rummaged through the cabinet, pulled out an old silk robe trimmed with fox fur, and helped him into it, saying as he did, “I figured you must be smarter than me, Father—if you arranged it this way, you must have had your reasons.”

Bàn Bàn let go of his hands and tied his own sash himself—he was still a vain man at heart—then found a bronze mirror to examine his own reflection, saying, “The Gui family fell because when trouble struck their household, no one at court reported it in time. By the time anyone reacted, it was already past arguing, and they were kneeling before the court answering for themselves.” He took out a jade hairpin and fastened it into his hair, saying, “What you should be fighting for is a voice at court. Understand now?”

Chen Dasheng stood there thinking for a moment, then nodded. “Mm, Jindian is remote, far from the reach of the capital—even holding great power there, once the territory grows too large, one has to draw on one’s own people to manage it from top to bottom, and over time the Cabinet and the Six Ministries in the capital lose track of things…”

A few young eunuchs came in to carry off the belongings, and Chen Dasheng and She Qingling didn’t speak of the matter again. She Qingling sat at his writing desk, picked up his brush, and casually wrote a few words on the desk that read: “Gone home with my son for New Year’s.”

He didn’t even leave word for His Majesty before he left.

These days he too had had his fill of it—all sorts of people kept coming to him with one piece of nonsense or another, and why should he be expected to understand, to be patient about it? He simply refused to endure it any longer.

Qiqian’er had also gotten up early that day. That fool of a husband kept saying how pitiful it was for his father to be alone in the palace, and had tossed and turned all night unable to sleep.

Well then, why not go bring him home? Or if that failed, just carry him back bodily? Was he really that foolish?

And sure enough, the fool had gone off first thing in the morning, so Qiqian’er started bustling about. What kind of man was Father? A young master raised in one of the most illustrious noble households—though he’d later suffered great hardship, he had never once, in all his life, left behind the most privileged nest in the world.

Their own family was doing quite well now, but compared to a household like that, there was still a real gap.

So Qiqian’er got up and went straight to the east wing of the back courtyard, telling Jixiang’s family to hurry and get people to heat the kang and clean up.

The moment She Jixiang heard the old master was coming, she burst into tears on the spot in her excitement. This husband-and-wife pair spent the whole time cleaning up while wiping away tears and running noses in equal measure.

Once the rooms were ready, the whole household waited eagerly in the front courtyard, waiting and waiting until the sky had grown hazy with dusk before they finally saw Chen Dasheng come driving the cart back home, grinning from ear to ear.

Qiqian’er ran out to meet him at the mouth of the lane, and once Father himself climbed down from the carriage, she laughed and went up to complain, “Father, ah, you were finally willing to come home.”

She Qingling was caught off guard for a moment as she reached up to help him down from the carriage, then took a hand warmer from him. Chen Dasheng ran over and took the fur cloak from the back of the cart to wrap around him.

As son and daughter-in-law escorted him home, the daughter-in-law kept up her complaining the whole way: “Just tell me, why are you so stubborn? Don’t we have a home for you here? Don’t you have somewhere to belong? Why must you insist on staying at that old Yang family’s place?”

She Qingling was left stunned by this stream of complaints, his lips trembling wordlessly. By the time they reached the gate of the house, this man had come to a complete stop, rooted to the spot.

Above that household’s door was written a set of characters he thoroughly disdained.

“May a Hundred Blessings Greet This Gate”

Seeing her adoptive father studying it so carefully, Qiqian’er laughed, and with shameless self-satisfaction praised her own work: “Father, my calligraphy’s not bad, is it?”

How could anyone possibly say it wasn’t? Could he really say it was soft and weak, clumsy and stiff, lacking any force, any strength of brushwork?

Left with no choice—after all, going forward she’d be the one managing his meals and daily needs—She Qingling could only nod and say, “It’s, it’s decent enough, I suppose!”

Qiqian’er knew exactly what he meant by that, and said shamelessly, “Better than your son’s by a hundred times, anyway.”

She Qingling laughed. “That’s certainly true.”

Chen Dasheng protested, “How many days of schooling have I even had?”

And with that, they made their way naturally into the house, everyone gathering around him, sheltering him from the wind as they headed to the back courtyard.

The house was quite small, only two courtyards front and back, yet She Qingling took in every detail with careful deliberation, counting each step with precision.

By the time they reached the door of the east wing in the back courtyard, the old lady could no longer contain herself, coming out personally to greet him with a stream of complaints: “You’ve already missed several days of the New Year’s stew, and you haven’t had a bite of it yet. You’re not young anymore, you really can’t go on wearing yourself thin like this. How many coppers a month do they even pay you? Doesn’t the old operas say you can retire and return to your hometown? Let’s just go home, then—the family doesn’t lack what little you’d bring in, so why bother going to serve someone else in the depths of the twelfth month?”

Lips trembling, She Qingling could only manage, “Mother, I’m home.”

He wanted to kneel and kowtow to his white-haired mother, but the old lady scolded him sharply, “I dare you to kneel! Are you a fool? “

She tossed aside the ceremonial cane bestowed on her by the Emperor, came up and pulled her son along, saying, “The ground’s so cold, isn’t that foolish of you? Come, come, let’s get inside where it’s warm first.”

And so he was hustled into the house, hoisted up onto the kang, stripped of his outer robe, dressed in a padded jacket, his bottom set upon toasty-warm bedding, and covered with a thin quilt.

Everyone watched as he was made to drink down a whole bowl of sugared egg drink before they finally felt at ease.

The old lady kept up her complaints. “I was so worried you’d find some excuse to work yourself during the New Year—all that cold wind blowing down your collar for dozens of miles, look how thin your shoulders have gotten. Oh! You’ll just eat with me these next few days—how would they know what you like to eat?”

The old lady, in truth, had no idea what her adoptive son liked to eat either—but she had a natural conviction that whatever she herself liked, her son must like too.

She Qingling had just managed to find his voice, about to say something, when he saw the old lady lean in with a look of great mystery and say, “They’re saying some corrupt official fled the city today?”

She Qingling paused, then realized she meant Gui Rong, and nodded to confirm it, meaning to explain, but the old lady didn’t wait for his answer and launched right into scolding, “They told me this corrupt official bullied men and women alike out on the border, seized three feet of land from every household or something?”

Gui Rong’s crime was plotting rebellion—bullying the common folk wasn’t even close to being the primary charge.

She Qingling tried to speak, but the old lady went on, “Ai-yo, a man like that can’t be allowed to live, it’s a terrible lack of virtue! Son, ah, which upright, honest official did the court send to handle this case? Let me tell you, once they catch him tomorrow, they’d better give this shameless wretch ten strokes of the cane first thing. That kind of person is the most detestable. Son! Let me tell you, back in our county there used to be a wicked man just like him—our family worked hard all year and didn’t even get a full meal of rice to eat, and when they came to collect the grain, they’d even kick our measuring basket, not just once but at least three times…”

She Qingling fell silent, knowing the old lady wasn’t going to give him a chance to speak anyway, so he simply smiled and propped his hand on the kang table, listening to his mother’s rambling.

Yiyue came into the room carrying a large bundle, and the old lady took it from her and unwrapped it as though presenting a treasure, taking out cotton socks, hand muffs, a scrap-fur patched jacket, undergarments…

She showed them to She Qingling one by one, tenderly stroking his hair as she did, saying, “My son’s been serving that whole family of theirs for a year now—it’s the New Year, what more do they want from him? Is there no end to it?”

Having said this, she had Qiqian’er put the things away in the kang cabinet, then went right on chattering to She Qingling about whatever came to mind. “Tomorrow they’re supposed to be putting on ‘The Drunken Beating of the Golden Branch’—I’ve had them set up a little tent for you tonight, and tomorrow you’ll come watch the opera with your mother…”

Something else occurred to her, and she clambered up to the top of the kang cabinet, took down a multi-tiered mother-of-pearl inlaid box, and opened it layer by layer, revealing all the little snacks she’d been gathering and setting aside here and there, which she now solemnly presented.

Once opened, the smell inside was a bit of a jumble—crushed sesame twists, fried mung bean cakes, crispy pastries, hundred-fruit cakes, red bean sweets, all crammed together tightly with not a sliver of space to spare, and not a single piece intact.

The old lady grabbed a handful and pressed it into her son’s hands. “Eat, eat up, eat—it’s so good.”

She Qingling took it and, cupping it in both hands, ate whatever came.

The old lady reached for a handkerchief and tucked it under the quilt, scolding him as she did. “No manners at all, eating like that—crumbs will get all over you in the night. A grown man like you, and let me tell you, that corrupt official is the most hateful kind—back when our family still owed a year’s worth of three bolts of silk in taxes, that corrupt official’s dog of an underling would come sniffing around our courtyard, first snatch a duck, then poke his head in and see there was still half a bolt left on my loom, and insist the silk we’d already paid wasn’t good enough, and just barged right in and rolled up that remaining half bolt from the loom too. Your son didn’t even have shoes to wear before he turned ten, had to go around barefoot in the dead of winter, poor thing… a beast like that ought to get at least ten strokes of the cane… you understand?”

She Qingling was well and truly talked into drowsiness by the old lady’s chatter, and it wasn’t until the middle of the night that he suddenly sat up and called for someone.

The eunuch on night duty outside the room came in and asked, “Does the honored elder need to relieve himself?”

She Qingling wiped the hot sweat from his forehead, drank a cup of water, and said, “No. Go tell them, tell them I said—wherever they catch Rong Gui, give him ten strokes of the cane first! Beat him hard!”

Having said this, this honored elder pulled the quilt up around himself and finally settled into a peaceful sleep.