Staring at Cui’er’s feet swaying in the air above her, Qin Yiniang understood everything in an instant. Her mind went blank with a resounding hum, and she fainted.

When she came to, it was already dusk.

The room was utterly still. The two matrons who normally attended her were seated outside the door, chatting away in low voices.

“I saw three of the nine-cord tiles on the table and played along with a nine-cord — who knew that Wu’s wife would win it all. Can you believe my luck?”

“At least you managed to win back four rounds in a row at the end and recovered your losses. Me — I started out winning over two hundred copper coins, and ended up losing a hundred. All told, I lost over three hundred copper coins.”

“Speaking of which, Wu’s wife has been having a real run of luck lately. Think about it — the four of us were playing together, and somehow she’s the one who got picked to help with the laying out of the body. I heard she was given two taels of silver!”

“What’s there to envy about earning that sort of money from the dead? And truth be told, that child was pitiable — so young, to lose her life like that. If not for that, they wouldn’t have given her a coffin of beech wood.”

That little wretch — and she still got a beech wood coffin!

Qin Yiniang could no longer contain herself. She leapt off the bed and rushed straight to the door, yanking the bolt with all her might — but the door didn’t budge, clearly locked from the outside.

She shook with rage, her face burning like fire.

“Open the door — open the door for me!” She yanked at the bolt again in a frenzy.

She wanted to drag that little wretch out of the coffin, pry open her heart and see whether it was red or black.

Such ingratitude. She had been so good to her — given her all her old clothes, never forgotten a red envelope at New Year or the holidays. What good had the Eleventh Miss done her, that she would want to harm her like this?

She had found it suspicious even at the time. She had been perfectly fine, so why had that little wretch insisted she was running a fever, and blurted out the word “malaria” so readily? The thing was, she had first heard of that illness from the Second Madam — and back then the Second Madam had mentioned it because there had been a plague passing through Shanxi that year. Otherwise she wouldn’t have remembered. How would Cui’er, an illiterate little maid, have known about it so precisely? Looking back, it was clearly someone’s doing.

How hateful — she had guarded against enemies outside, yet had been undone at last by that little wretch Cui’er right under her own roof.

Qin Yiniang’s shouting brought the two matrons’ idle chatter to an abrupt halt.

One replied with an awkward laugh: “Yiniang, please don’t make things difficult for us. We’re only following orders.”

The other echoed: “That’s right, Yiniang. Whatever you’d like to say, just say it to us — we’ll pass the message along. As for opening the door, we wouldn’t dare. If we catch what you have, we’re not like Yiniang — we can’t have imperial physicians come examine us, or ginseng and fleece flower root at our disposal. We don’t have that kind of means.”

“Pfft!” Qin Yiniang slapped the door in fury. “I am not ill at all. Who is the short-lived wretch who said I was ill? When my son comes back, he’ll make you all answer for this.”

“Son!” One of the matrons sneered. “Where does Yiniang have a son? Even if you bore one, that is the Fourth Madam’s son — when did he ever become yours? I think it’s not just your body that’s ill — your mind is quite unwell as well…”

Before that matron could finish, the other cautioned her: “What’s the point of talking to her like that? Save your breath.” Then she said: “Oh, right — Wu’s wife mentioned there’ll be a gambling gathering at her place tonight. Are you going?”

“Going, of course. How else will I win back what I lost?”

The two went on talking, one to the other, utterly ignoring Qin Yiniang’s frantic banging on the door. They simply treated it as if they heard nothing.

Qin Yiniang’s hands ached from the pounding, yet the two matrons outside paid her no mind whatsoever. Her heart slowly sank.

Those servants knew very well how to flatter those in power and trample those who had fallen. In the past, they had fawned on her because the second young master was favored by the Marquis, and they’d hoped that one day the second young master might do well and throw a bit of care their way — so they had been all smiles and flattery. Had they ever treated her like this before?

She stared blankly at her palms, reddened from beating the door, and sat down heavily on the floor.

“How has it come to this? How has it come to this?”

If they were still at the household in the capital, the Grand Madam would still need to keep up appearances for the sake of the family’s reputation and might hold back a little. But now they were at the remote Luoye Mountain villa — cry out to heaven and heaven won’t answer, cry out to the earth and the earth won’t respond. Never mind killing a person or two — even if someone set a fire, it would probably burn for half a day before anyone noticed.

How could she have been so foolish.

The thought flashed by, and she felt like a fish on a chopping block — struggle as it might, it cannot escape the fate of being gutted.

No, no, no.

She must not admit defeat, must not sink into despondency like this.

She still had the second young master.

The letter had already been sent — as long as the second young master returned, they would not dare do anything to her.

The thought flickered — and then worry crept in.

That letter had been entrusted to Cui’er to deliver. What if Cui’er had never sent it at all?

Then, then — she had nothing left but to wait for death.

But how could the Bodhisattva let her die?

All these years, the Bodhisattva had granted her wish after wish. This time, surely, would be the same.

Clinging to this thought, she stumbled to her feet and lurched into the inner warm chamber at the back of the room.

The warm chamber was bare — utterly empty.

Only then did she realize: this was the Luoye Mountain villa, not her home at Marquis Yongping’s household.

But where was her Bodhisattva?

Where had her Bodhisattva gone?

Left behind at the home in Yanjing… she had forgotten it all when she left… could it be that for this reason, the Bodhisattva had grown angry and left her here, alone and forsaken?

Yes, that must be it. Why else would things have come to this again?

Qin Yiniang could not help but kneel in the center of the warm chamber, face the east, press her palms together, close her eyes, and begin to murmur: “Bodhisattva, your faithful devotee Qin Shi has sincerely upheld the faith all these years — incense and fresh flowers have never once been neglected…”

Before she could finish, the sound of a door creaking open came from outside the warm chamber.

Qin Yiniang leapt to her feet and rushed out — and then she saw a familiar face.

“Nanny Du!” Her face filled with astonishment.

“Qin Yiniang!” Nanny Du’s smiling face was as kind and amiable as ever — but appearing here, in this place and at this moment, it sent a cold shudder through Qin Yiniang. “I have come on the Grand Madam’s orders, to see how Yiniang’s illness is progressing.” As she spoke, she stepped back — and at once, two matrons built like men stepped forward and seized her by the arms, one on each side.

“Nanny Du, you cannot do this!” Qin Yiniang understood immediately and struggled wildly, crying out: “When the second young master returns, he will not let you get away with this!”

Nanny Du smiled, reached into her bosom, and produced a small glass vial the size of a palm. She pulled out the stopper, stepped forward, and pinched Qin Yiniang’s jaw…

At that moment, the Eleventh Miss had just received word of Tao Mama’s death.

She went to the Grand Madam’s quarters.

Ever since Xu Sizhun had suffered that terrible fright, he had been confined to bed and had not resumed his lessons. He had grown far more timid than before — at the slightest sign of wind or movement, he would clutch anxiously at whoever was beside him.

The weather was very hot, but out of consideration for Xu Sizhun’s health, the Grand Madam had placed only one block of ice in the northeast corner of the room. Sitting inside for a long time, one might not notice, but coming in from outdoors, a faint thread of coolness could be felt.

Xu Sijie and Xu Sizhun sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder, heads together, leaning against the bolster cushion. The former was chattering away to the latter about something.

Hearing a sound, they looked up, and seeing the Eleventh Miss enter, Xu Sijie immediately slid down from the raised platform and came running toward her. Xu Sizhun, by contrast, called out weakly: “Mother.”

The Eleventh Miss tousled Xu Sijie’s hair, gave Xu Sizhun a nod, and asked the two brothers: “What are you two up to?”

“Telling Fourth Brother about what Teacher Zhao taught us.” Xu Sijie took the Eleventh Miss’s hand and led her to sit on the raised platform, then climbed back up to sit beside Xu Sizhun.

“Oh?” The Eleventh Miss smiled and chatted with them casually. “What did Teacher Zhao cover?”

“Teacher Zhao told me the story of Sun Zhongmou, Cao Cao, and Sun Quan.”

The Eleventh Miss thought for a moment and smiled: “Has Teacher Zhao already reached the Shu Nu Gong Lue – Chapter on brothers in the Elementary Learning text with you?”

Xu Sijie nodded, his eyes bright with admiration: “Mother is so impressive. Just from hearing that, you knew what Teacher Zhao taught us.”

“That’s because Mother has also read the Elementary Learning text,” Xu Sizhun laughed, finally getting a word in. “So of course she knew right away what Teacher Zhao was covering.”

They chatted and laughed together, the atmosphere very warm and easy.

The news of Tao Mama’s death rose to the tip of the Eleventh Miss’s tongue several times, only to sink back down again.

The matter dragged on like this until after dinner, when the Eleventh Miss came to bid Xu Sizhun goodnight.

“Mother, is there something you wish to tell me?” Xu Sizhun’s dark, bright eyes looked at her with quiet seriousness.

“You noticed.” The Eleventh Miss was honest about it, and then felt a flicker of curiosity. “How could you tell?”

Xu Sizhun pressed his lips together with a small smile: “Because Mother seemed a little distracted today.”

What a perceptive child.

The thought passed through her mind, and the Eleventh Miss felt an even greater reluctance to tell him. Yet if in a few days he were to hear it from someone else, he would surely be even more heartbroken.

“I do have something I want to say to you, but I am not sure how to begin.” The Eleventh Miss’s voice carried a note of hesitation. “At midday, Tao Cheng came to report a death in the family. Tao Mama has passed away from illness.”

As she spoke, she watched Xu Sizhun’s expression with careful attention.

The serenity on Xu Sizhun’s face froze in place, then slowly gave way to shock, and then slowly to grief…

The Eleventh Miss held him close in her arms: “She contracted dysentery. Chief Steward Bai even arranged for a physician to come and see her…”

Xu Sizhun’s body shook with quiet, broken sobs: “So that is why, when I was ill, Tao Mama did not come to see me.”

It was a statement, not a question.

The Eleventh Miss’s heart ached with sorrow.

Xu Sizhun — he too was just a child longing for love.

“No, that’s not it,” the Eleventh Miss said, her voice low and steady. “She did come to see you. You were unconscious at the time.”

There are things that fire cannot keep hidden.

Better to be honest now than to face explanations later.

Xu Sizhun looked up, his face streaked with tears, his gaze full of bewilderment.

“Tao Mama saw the state you were in and wept until she fainted.” The Eleventh Miss explained gently, “We were afraid she would disturb you, so the next day we sent her home.”

Xu Sizhun’s expression eased immediately.

The Grand Madam had always disliked people weeping and wailing around her, especially when he was ill, saying it brought bad luck.

“Then… can Cha Xiang come back to attend me?”

He looked at the Eleventh Miss with earnest, hopeful eyes.

* * *