The room was perfectly still, and from somewhere in the distance came the sound of the night watch being struck.

Yang Shi rustled and turned over in bed.

Qiao Lianfang’s vacant expression kept floating before her eyes.

Nanny Yang, sleeping at the foot of the bed, could not help heaving a quiet sigh in her heart.

“My lady, shall I pour you a cup of hot tea?” She sat up, wrapping her outer garment about herself.

There was no sleeping anyway.

Yang Shi thought for a moment, then made a soft sound of assent.

Nanny Yang poured the tea and, by the way, moved the goat-horn palace lantern that had been on the low table by the window closer to the bed.

Yang Shi leaned against the headboard, cradling the teacup in a daze.

Nanny Yang tucked her clothes about herself and sat on the edge of the bed: “My lady, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing at all,” Yang Shi said, glossing things over with a reply, and lowered her head to take a few sips. When she raised her head again, she could not hold it back: “Nanny, do you think sending Concubine Qiao to Dajue Temple — was it the Madam’s idea, or the Marquis’s?”

Nanny Yang was confused: “Whose idea does it matter? In the end, Concubine Qiao was still sent to Dajue Temple either way.”

“But of course it matters,” Yang Shi said, shaking her head gently, her voice barely audible as a gnat’s hum. “If it was the Madam’s idea, the Marquis still cherishes some old affection; but if it was the Marquis’s idea…” Her expression became one of uncertain alarm, and the knuckles gripping the teacup turned faintly white.

Nanny Yang had not heard this last part clearly, and said with a smile: “Who is my lady speaking of?”

“No one, no one,” Yang Shi said, her expression composed in an instant. She smiled and held the teacup out to Nanny Yang. “It’s getting late. Time to sleep — we have to go pay our respects to Madam first thing in the morning!” And with that she lay down.

Nanny Yang looked at the teacup, which had been barely touched, her face full of bewilderment as she moved the lamp out past the bed curtains.

Qiu Hong could not sleep either, tossing and turning at the foot of the bed.

Wen Yiniang let out a yawn: “If you cannot sleep, roll up your bedding and go sleep on the large kang by the window in the day room — the east side has a heated wall, equally warm. Stop disturbing my sleep.”

Hearing Wen Yiniang’s even-tempered tone, Qiu Hong smiled cheekily: “My lady isn’t sleeping either, is she?”

Wen Yiniang said nothing.

Qiu Hong then said, “My lady, what kind of place is Dajue Temple? Concubine Qiao came back looking like a completely different person. I curtsied to her, and she actually curtsied back to me — gave me quite a fright.”

Wen Yiniang let out a long, quiet sigh: “Don’t speak of such things anymore — go to sleep. In future, whenever you encounter Concubine Qiao, just keep well out of her way.” She thought of Qiao Lianfang’s constrained manner. “She has just returned, and the habits formed at the temple have not yet worn off — in a few days she will be herself again.”

“Mm!” Qiu Hong smiled and lay down. Over the following days, whenever she encountered Qiao Lianfang, she would fix her with a stare. She observed that Qiao Lianfang’s expression gradually softened and her movements no longer had that former stiffness — only that neither Qin Yiniang nor Yang Yiniang paid Concubine Qiao any attention. Only Wen Yiniang, whenever they met, would greet her with a bright smile and exchange some bland pleasantries.

Qiao Lianfang no longer pouted or pulled sullen faces as she had done before. She always gave a faint, indifferent nod, then turned and went back to her small courtyard, not coming out for the rest of the day.

Qiu Hong also noticed that Yang Yiniang, who had previously only come by every few days, was again coming every day as she had done before — aside from accompanying Wen Yiniang to morning and evening greetings before Madam, she would bring her needlework over to do in their rooms during her free time. As she worked, she also chatted with Wen Yiniang, speaking of nothing but old memories from the past. Wen Yiniang was not skilled at needlework and could not endure sitting on the kang for long stretches talking with someone. Often she would be in the middle of conversation, then suddenly think of something, and be off for half a day, leaving Yuer to keep Yang Yiniang company. Yang Yiniang thought nothing of it, sitting there quietly, doing her needlework while waiting for Wen Yiniang to return. The picture of perfect serenity.

“My lady,” said Qiu Hong curiously, “what is it that Yang Yiniang is embroidering? She works with thread in hand every day, yet I’ve never seen her finish a single thing — she’s too busy talking with you…”

Wen Yiniang was at that moment rummaging through a chest with Yuer, turning things inside out looking for clothes.

The eldest young lady’s husband’s family were sending new year gifts the next morning, and according to custom, the Shao family would send a respectable head nanny along with the cart to pay respects to the Eleventh Miss. Wen Yiniang was worried the woman might arrive early, right as she was going to make her morning greetings to the Eleventh Miss, and was fretting about how to dress in a way that was presentable yet dignified.

Hearing Qiu Hong, she immediately shot her a glance and cut her off: “If you have that much energy, go help the little maidservants sweep the courtyard!”

Wen Yiniang was also afraid the head nanny might take it into her head to come round to her courtyard for a look, and used the pretext of the new year to set all the little maidservants and women servants to work cleaning the courtyard top to bottom.

“My lady,” Qiu Hong said, deeply aggrieved, looking at the mountain of clothing piled in her arms, her lower lip jutting out, “am I not helping you find clothes right now?”

“And that can’t keep your mouth shut as well!” Wen Yiniang said, and pulled from the bottom of a chest a brand-new ink-green plain Hangzhou-silk over-robe. “What do you all think of this one?”

The two were just about to reply when Dong Hong lifted the curtain and entered, and at the sight of Qiu Hong and Yuer, her footstep faltered.

Wen Yiniang had already spoken: “What is it?”

Dong Hong hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and said in a low voice, “My lady — the Marquis has gone to Concubine Qiao’s rooms.”

Wen Yiniang’s expression stilled briefly, then she smiled: “It is Concubine Qiao’s night of waiting service — it is only right that the Marquis should go there.” And she pulled another crimson over-robe patterned all over with gold from the chest at random. “What do you all think of this one?”

Qiu Hong and Dong Hong exchanged a glance, and Qiu Hong smiled: “The ink-green one is better. Paired with a pine-yellow eight-paneled skirt with scattered butterflies in flight, it is dignified without being dull.”

“Then find that pine-yellow eight-paneled skirt with scattered butterflies in flight for me.”

Qiu Hong looked at the pine-yellow skirt with scattered butterflies in flight sitting right beside Wen Yiniang’s hand, gave Dong Hong a look, and said with a smile, “My lady has been standing so long, you must be tired. Let me stay with you and sit in the inner room a moment — leave Dong Hong and Yuer to search out here.”

“You just want to slack off,” Wen Yiniang laughed, going with the arms-full Qiu Hong to the inner room. “And using me as your shield!”

Qiu Hong only giggled.

Cui’er stared in surprise at the little maidservant who had come with the news.

“It’s true,” the little maidservant said in a low voice. “The Marquis has gone to Concubine Qiao’s rooms.”

Cui’er’s face fell slightly, and she quickly stepped into the inner room.

She came face to face with Qin Yiniang.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth, and her face looked even more amiable and pleasant than before. She was just lifting the curtain out of the warm alcove that housed the Bodhisattva shrine.

“What is it?” Her spirits had been very good of late — everything looked agreeable to her. “You look like someone owes you three hundred taels of silver and hasn’t paid it back.”

“My lady.” Cui’er said urgently, “The Marquis has gone to Concubine Qiao’s rooms.”

The smile froze on Qin Yiniang’s face.

She gripped the sandalwood prayer beads with a fierce grip, turned, and went back into the warm alcove.

The Eleventh Miss, who had just finished her bath, was sitting on the large kang in the inner room beside the window, dressed in a rose-red jacket. Her fair face still showed the warm flush left by the steam, like a red lotus blooming in the sixth month — pure and clean, yet with a few touches of vibrant beauty.

“Madam’s hair is truly beautiful,” Hupo said, standing before the kang, drawing a boxwood comb through her just-dried hair. “Smooth as satin.”

“It’s just that washing it is such a bother,” the Eleventh Miss said with a smile, patting her jet-black tresses.

“Who is like Madam — washing her hair every few days?” Hupo said with a laugh. “And she doesn’t like using hair oil, or sprinkling flower dew.” She thought for a moment. “And she doesn’t wear fresh flowers either.”

“Who says I don’t wear fresh flowers?” the Eleventh Miss laughed. “Don’t I wear gardenia blossoms and magnolias?”

“But you wear them on your lapel, my lady!”

The two were laughing and chatting together when Hongxiu walked in.

“Madam — the Marquis has gone to Concubine Qiao’s rooms.”

Hupo’s hand with the comb stopped where it was.

“I understand,” the Eleventh Miss said, her smile fading somewhat, and instructed Hongxiu: “Go and rest.”

It was Hongxiu’s turn for night watch duty, but the Eleventh Miss did not like having someone in the room on watch duty. Those who kept night watch generally slept on the large kang in the east side room — it was called night watch, but really just spending the night in the main building, which had an underfloor heating system. What had once been a duty everyone lamented had now become a coveted post.

Hongxiu smiled and assented, and withdrew.

Hupo’s red lips pressed together: “Madam — shall I keep watch tonight? Like the old days, sleeping on the bed board — and we can talk.”

“Haven’t you enough to do during the day as it is?” the Eleventh Miss laughed. “Tomorrow we have to distribute all the small items needed for the new year — sugared sweets, incense candles, lanterns, decorative plants and the like — to every household. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy. You should rest early too. Whatever we want to say, we can say after the new year is over.”

“Madam!” Hupo started to speak, then stopped.

The Eleventh Miss knew what she was worried about, but some things could not be avoided no matter how much you turned away from them, no matter how much you worried.

She smiled and took the wooden comb from Hupo’s hand: “Go and rest.”

Hupo gave a downcast nod, curtsied, turned, and withdrew.

She had gone only a few steps when she could not help turning back.

“Madam!” She knelt before the Eleventh Miss. “When Yang Yiniang entered the household, you said each person would give up one day to Yang Yiniang — but the Marquis said that would leave you with less than half a month, so he reduced the concubines’ days to three. And during your mourning period, the Marquis also slept in your rooms. This time, you should…”

She was, after all, an unmarried girl — her face flushed red, unable to say some things aloud.

“The days are mine to set. But whether to come or not is entirely the Marquis’s own choice.” Her gaze was somewhat complex. “There are things you don’t understand.” Her voice gradually fell. “I have a thousand means and ten thousand reasons to keep him here at my side. But why should I do so?”

Hupo was greatly alarmed.

The Eleventh Miss lifted her up.

“Just because he is the Marquis?” She looked wistful. “Because he is the provider of my food and clothing? Because he is the person who shares my pillow… None of these have ever been reasons…”

In the quiet room, the Eleventh Miss’s voice — faintly helpless — echoed, and a subtle sorrow settled in Hupo’s heart, making her eyes sting, the words of persuasion dying in her throat.

“Go and rest.”

The Eleventh Miss patted Hupo’s hand.

She suddenly noticed that this gesture of hers was very like the Grand Madam’s.

Was her own state of mind already so aged?

The Eleventh Miss smiled faintly.

Hongxiu came rushing in: “Madam, Madam — the Marquis has come back!”

Her face was flushed crimson and she looked greatly excited.

“Madam!” Hupo too gripped the Eleventh Miss’s hand tightly, irrepressible joy brimming at the corners of her eyes and the curves of her smile. “The Marquis — has come back!”

The Eleventh Miss smiled a light smile, and deep in her eyes a brilliant light flashed past — so swift she herself did not notice it was there.

* * *