After the winter garments were distributed, the Eleventh Miss sorted through Xu Lingyi’s ramie-silk robes and then directed the manservants to carry the ornamental flowering trees that had been displayed on the desk for appreciation — pots and all — to the heated greenhouse for the winter, replacing them with cold-hardy plants like Dongqing and Wenzhu. When the Office of Ceremonial sent the Court-issued “Nine-Times-Nine Cold-Dispelling Poetry Chart,” the hundred days of mourning had also come to an end.

Perhaps because everyone had been holding themselves in check for some time, now that the restraints were lifted, they went about their pleasures with even more abandon than usual.

The young masters and lords went hawking and hunting without saying — but even the female members of the household, inviting one another today to burn incense at a meditation hall, tomorrow hosting a banquet at home, were in a constant whirl of activity. The Eleventh Miss had first observed mourning for her mother and then for the nation — she had not been out and about for over a year. Everyone thought of her first because each time she appeared, she was always dressed in some distinctive and elegant fashion. Invitations rained down on her like falling paper, and between having clothes made, jewelry crafted, and endless social obligations — returning home late and seeing Xu Sijie draped over Nanny Nan Yong’s shoulder, yawning as he waited for her — she gradually began to feel a growing sense of guilt. She simply claimed illness and declined all engagements at home.

Madam Zhou heard of it and came specially to call.

Seeing the Eleventh Miss, who was wearing a casual jacket of blue and green with gold thread, with a healthy rosy complexion, Madam Zhou was mildly taken aback.

“Going out every day, everything at home has been left to pile up,” the Eleventh Miss told her plainly.

Madam Zhou laughed at this, but with less of her usual openheartedness.

Only then did the Eleventh Miss notice that Madam Zhou, dressed in a scarlet ramie-silk jacket with full sleeves, seemed somewhat downcast.

“What is the matter, Sister?” she said, ushering Madam Zhou to the large kang beside the window in the day room.

The little maidservants brought in tea and refreshments, then withdrew with quiet footsteps.

Madam Zhou shook her head gently and leaned against the kang, asking in a listless tone, “How is your husband getting on?”

The Eleventh Miss sensed vaguely that something had happened.

She held out the hand warmer enameled with a cloisonné bird-and-flower pattern to Madam Zhou: “Apart from morning and evening greetings, he stays in the rooms doing needlework.”

Madam Zhou gave a wry smile at this: “Mine has been formally installed as a concubine.”

The Eleventh Miss recalled what Madam Zhou had said before, and sighed softly.

“Just looking at her makes me feel as if I have swallowed a fly — utterly disgusted,” Madam Zhou said, her voice thick with contempt. “And yet our lord thinks nothing of it. A few days ago, Prince Shun invited the lord to go on a hunting excursion, and he brought that Yang Shi along. I heard she even sang ‘The Deer Cry’ and danced the Nishang dance… If he isn’t ashamed, I am ashamed for him!”

Whatever she might be, she was now an installed concubine, not a singing girl kept in the house. Performing at such a gathering was far too brazen and undignified.

The Eleventh Miss said thoughtfully, “Then at Princess Fucheng’s side…”

Madam Zhou waved a hand: “A woman in my own household — do I need the Princess to manage her for me? What would that make me?”

There was sense in that.

The Eleventh Miss did not know what to say, and asked her gently, “Then what do you plan to do, Sister?”

“There is nothing to do but wait for his novelty to wear off and then see!” Madam Zhou said, and sighed softly. “At least I came prepared — I am not afraid of her making any waves.”

Madam Zhou did not say specifically what preparations she had made, and the Eleventh Miss did not press her. She smiled and changed the subject, bringing up Fang Jie’er: “…I happened to see her when I went to the palace to pay respects to the Empress a few days ago. Her color was excellent.”

Hearing the Eleventh Miss mention her most accomplished daughter, Madam Zhou’s expression cleared entirely, her face wreathing in smiles: “Goodness knows who she takes after. No sleepiness, no nausea — just like a person without a care in the world.”

“It must be that the people around her take such good care of her,” the Eleventh Miss said with a smile. “Sister can set her mind at rest.”

This was a mere pleasantry, but it drew a heartfelt sigh from Madam Zhou: “Indeed. His Highness the Crown Prince may appear reserved and unsmiling, but toward the Crown Princess, he is truly thoughtful and considerate. When I went to the palace on the first day of the month to pay respects to the Empress Dowager, the Crown Princess was also there. It was snowing heavily, and His Highness had specially dispatched someone to bring a hand warmer — but out of concern that the elders might feel discomfited, he had the attendant wait outside the Compassionate Tranquility Palace…” Pride and joy danced in her eyes.

The Eleventh Miss understood that Madam Zhou had come to this, her place of ease, simply to give voice to what troubled her — once the words were out, she would feel better. The Eleventh Miss did her best to follow along with whatever she said, and in less than half an hour, Madam Zhou was all smiles again. She stayed to eat dinner and then took her leave.

Afterward, the Eleventh Miss began going over the account books of the embroidery shop with Master Instructor Jian and Grand Madam Gan.

Over the course of the year, they had earned a profit of three hundred thirty-four taels and seven qian of silver.

All three were delighted.

The Eleventh Miss suggested booking several tables at Chunxi Restaurant to treat the people at the shop to a meal before closing for the year.

“I’ll cover the cost,” Grand Madam Gan said, smiling warmly.

“Let it come out of the shop’s funds,” Master Instructor Jian said with a smile. “It will be a token of goodwill from all of us.”

Grand Madam Gan nodded in ready agreement. On the seventh day of the twelfth month, Master Instructor Jian — representing the Eleventh Miss and Grand Madam Gan — sat down to a year-end banquet with the embroiderers, the shopkeeper, and the manservants. Red envelopes were given out; then two manservants were left behind to watch the shop, the rest were formally given their holiday, and everyone went home to prepare for the new year.

The Eleventh Miss spoke with Xu Lingyi: “As for Concubine Qiao, I am afraid someone ought to be sent to look in on her. We cannot leave her to spend the new year in the temple.” Her speech was somewhat hesitant as she said this. “I made it clear at the outset that Concubine Qiao was to copy out ‘Admonitions for Women’ three hundred times as her punishment. But what if she flies into a temper and has not copied it at all, or has not finished? If I don’t bring her back, leaving her alone and cold and cheerless reflects poorly on me; but if I do bring her back, will I not be going back on my own word and undermining myself?”

“I think you are the one punishing yourself,” Xu Lingyi said, laughing. “It is only the person being punished who worries about having not finished — who ever heard of the one doing the punishing worrying that the one being punished has not finished?” He added, “If she has not yet finished copying ‘Admonitions for Women’ three hundred times, you may have the person you send to fetch Concubine Qiao tell her that she will be fetched at the Dragon Boat Festival next year instead. I expect Concubine Qiao will find a way to finish the copying before the new year.”

The Eleventh Miss was chagrined. A few days later she sent Nanny Song and Yan Rong to fetch Qiao Lianfang. They did not return until dusk.

The three concubines were in the Eleventh Miss’s rooms for their evening greetings, and on hearing the news, they fell silent, their eyes fixed on their own noses, their noses on their own hearts.

Nanny Song and Yan Rong came in escorting a young woman dressed in an official-green pongee jacket.

Her hair was jet black, styled in a perfectly neat round bun without a single loose strand; her skin was fair and unblemished, yet without any luster — like a piece of dead jade; her features were delicate and refined, yet her gaze was vacant, her expression wooden. She resembled a dried flower — still holding its original form and color, yet because all life had left it, always giving the impression of stiff lifelessness.

“Concubine Qiao…” Yang Shi breathed, her eyes wide with shock, her face full of astonishment.

Qiao Lianfang seemed unaware of this. She bent her knees in a perfectly correct curtsy to the Eleventh Miss, then stood in silence, with the air of one waiting to be scolded.

The Eleventh Miss’s hand holding the teacup trembled slightly.

Three hundred copyings of “Admonitions for Women” could not possibly have reduced a person to this state.

What on earth had Qiao Lianfang encountered during her time at Dajue Temple?

Her mind was thrown into turmoil at the thought.

“Madam,” said Yan Rong, who had by now presented a thick sheaf of paper before the Eleventh Miss, “this is the copy of ‘Admonitions for Women’ that Concubine Qiao has written out. The monks at the temple have already counted — exactly three hundred times.”

The Eleventh Miss collected herself and nodded with a forced air of composure, saying in a steady voice, “Concubine Qiao has had a long journey and must be weary. Please withdraw and rest early.”

Qiao Lianfang said “yes” in a low voice and withdrew.

The Eleventh Miss lifted her teacup: “All of you concubines may also retire early.”

The three concubines curtsied in acknowledgment and filed out of the day room.

The Eleventh Miss rose at once: “Yan Rong — how did Concubine Qiao come to be in this state?”

Xiuyuan threw her arms around Qiao Lianfang, weeping inconsolably: “My lady, my lady — how have you come to be like this?”

Qiao Lianfang’s vacant eyes gradually kindled with a faint light.

“Xiuyuan?” she said, hesitantly resting her hand on Xiuyuan’s shoulder where the girl had buried her face against her knee, sobbing.

Xiuyuan raised her tear-streaked face and gripped Qiao Lianfang’s hand: “My lady, it’s me. It’s Xiuyuan!”

Warm palms, a familiar face… After a long while, tears rolled from Qiao Lianfang’s eyes.

“Xiuyuan.” She gripped Xiuyuan’s hand tightly in return. “Xiuyuan…”

“…The monks didn’t beat her or scold her — they just made people stand under the eaves,” Yan Rong said in a low voice. “No food, no water, no trips to the privy — let alone sleep.” Her face showed a look of pained unwillingness. “A few days of that, and even someone made of iron would break.”

The Eleventh Miss was silent for a long while before instructing Hupo: “Have Xiuyuan take good care of her.”

That evening she told Xu Lingyi: “…She suffered considerably.”

“If suffering has taught her to reform, then the suffering was not wasted,” Xu Lingyi said. “What I fear is that once the wound heals the pain will be forgotten, and she will have suffered for nothing.”

The Eleventh Miss gave a slight nod.

Xiuyuan dropped a few drops of jade hairpin flower dew into clear water, then helped Qiao Lianfang wash her hair and guided her to sit on the kang. A charcoal brazier was moved over to help dry her hair.

“Madam didn’t reduce our food, clothing, or allowances — everything is the same as before,” she said, telling Qiao Lianfang everything that had happened during this time. “The concubine who is most favored before Madam now is Yang Yiniang, who often helps with flower designs for Madam’s embroidery shop. Wen Yiniang, who used to be constantly in Madam’s presence, rarely appears before her anymore, and now devotes herself entirely to helping the eldest young lady prepare her dowry. Qin Yiniang is the same as before — whatever Wen Yiniang does, she does the same. She burns incense and worships Buddha in her rooms every day, filling the whole courtyard with curling smoke, so much so that the Marquis greatly dislikes it — when it comes to her assigned nights, he doesn’t even want to enter her courtyard gate.” She was puzzled. “In the past, Qin Yiniang still had some sense of restraint — when the Marquis visited, she would clean the inside and outside of the rooms and sprinkle some flower dew. But these days she has an air of complete abandon about her.” As she shook out the hair she was drying, she paused. “I heard the little maidservants whispering that Qin Yiniang seems to have taken vows before some Bodhisattva again. But I just can’t understand it. Isn’t burning incense before the Bodhisattva meant to win the Marquis’s affections? Yet she has pushed the Marquis away because of it — then why is she still burning incense?”

The room was perfectly quiet, with only the occasional popping snap of the silver-frosted charcoal as it burned.

Xiuyuan looked down to find Qiao Lianfang with both eyes closed — she had slipped into a deep sleep at some point, without Xiuyuan noticing.

She gently tucked a thin blanket over Qiao Lianfang.

* * *