Qin Yiniang suddenly wrenched her hand free from Xu Siyu’s grasp. “No, no, no — you are not the Second Young Master. The Second Young Master is still in Le’an. That little wretch Cui’er gave my letter to the Madam, I know it — she gave my letter to the Madam, and then she feared I would call her to account, so she hanged herself. I know it all, I know it all, I won’t tell you people anything…” She had seemed somewhat frantic at first, but by the end, a strange smile crept over her face. Set against her gaunt and skeletal features, it caused both Lian Jiao and Xiao Lü’zi — who had followed Xu Siyu inside — to feel a sudden chill run through them. They exchanged a glance, uncertain whether they ought to be listening at all. When they turned back, the door had been shut at some point unnoticed, and the serving woman who had led them in had long since vanished.

Xu Siyu felt only as though a knife were twisting in his heart. He climbed onto the bed and seized Qin Yiniang’s hand again. “It is Siyu, I truly am Siyu. The moment I received your letter, I came back at once. If you do not believe me, feel my head.” As he spoke, he bowed his head and guided Qin Yiniang’s hand through his hair.

A long, raised scar — from the time he had been climbing to raid a bird’s nest as a small boy and had fallen badly, very nearly losing his life.

“You are the Second Young Master, you are the Second Young Master.” Qin Yiniang cried out in wild joy and pulled Xu Siyu into her arms. “I knew it. You would always come back. You are not like those others, who would cast me aside just because I am of lowly birth. You knew I was ill, and you came back to see me, just as I knew you would…” Then all at once her expression stiffened, and a look of wariness came over her face. “Is there anyone else here? Is anyone else here? Is it someone the Old Dowager sent?” Fear began to gather slowly in her eyes.

Yiniang had always been terrified of the Old Dowager, forever convinced that the Old Dowager was a formidable figure who, if displeased for even a moment, could end the lives of every yiniang, maidservant, and serving woman in the household. In truth, all things in this world hold each other in check. To Yiniang, the Old Dowager was an unreachable power, someone who could decide her fate with a yawn. Yet to the Old Dowager herself, there were still the Emperor and Empress above her, and a hundred years of the Xu family’s reputation to uphold — she could not do entirely as she pleased either. Perhaps this was what Master Jiang had spoken of: that the breadth of one’s vision determines the breadth of one’s heart.

Xu Siyu gently smoothed Qin Yiniang’s disheveled hair and said softly, “There is no one else. Only Xiao Lü’zi and Lian Jiao. They came with me to see you.”

Far from being reassured, Qin Yiniang grew even more agitated at his words. She cried out in alarm, “Send them away, send them away at once” — and then, composing herself, she leaned close to Xu Siyu’s ear and whispered: “I am telling you, those maids and manservants are all reeds that bend with the wind. Look — I treated Cui’er so well, and she still betrayed me… None of these people can be trusted.”

Xu Siyu felt somewhat uncomfortable at this.

In the past, the maids and serving women assigned to him had all been arranged by Yuanniang, and they had indulged him without reservation. He had been young then and had not understood the intent behind it. As he grew older, he had followed his second aunt in her studies and come to understand the workings of such things — yet he had been powerless to change them. He had looked forward eagerly to the day when Xiao Lü’zi, recommended by his second aunt, would come to serve him; and Xiao Lü’zi had not only proven utterly loyal, but would also offer gentle, tactful reminders whenever Xu Siyu had failed to consider something. He bore no resemblance whatsoever to those ordinary servants who knew only how to flatter and fawn, or to nod and comply with everything.

For Yiniang to say such a thing — would it not wound Xiao Lü’zi’s feelings?

The thought prompted him to turn and look behind him.

The room was perfectly quiet. Neither Xiao Lü’zi nor Lian Jiao was anywhere to be seen.

Xiao Lü’zi had always been sharp and perceptive, quick to read the mood — he had likely slipped out of his own accord.

The thought passed through his mind, and for reasons he could not quite name, Xu Siyu felt a quiet wave of relief.

From the moment they had stepped inside, Xiao Lü’zi had felt that something was off about Qin Yiniang — but she was the Second Young Master’s birth mother, and the Young Master would certainly not want others to witness Qin Yiniang’s pitiable state. He gave Lian Jiao’s sleeve a light tug, signaling that they should both withdraw.

But Lian Jiao was thinking of the instructions Hupo had given her before they set out: “Qin Yiniang no longer recognizes anyone now. Do not stray too far from the Second Young Master — be careful that Qin Yiniang, if she has a fit, does not injure him.”

She instead drew Xiao Lü’zi aside and relayed Hupo’s words to him. “One of them is in his right mind; the other is confused. One is a birth mother, the other is…”

Lian Jiao had not yet finished speaking when Xiao Lü’zi heard Qin Yiniang say that Cui’er had harmed her.

He said at once: “We’ll hide behind the floor-length partition screen. If Qin Yiniang… you go and pull the Second Young Master away; I will hold Qin Yiniang back.”

Lian Jiao nodded, and together she and Xiao Lü’zi moved as softly as possible to take up position behind the curtain beside the partition screen.

Xu Siyu spoke quietly to soothe Qin Yiniang. “It is all right, it is all right. They are both people by my side. Whatever you wish to say, Yiniang, you may speak freely…”

Yiniang had always been distrustful of those around her, forever convinced that those people harbored ulterior motives. In his own view, though they had tended to be overly ingratiating, to speak of actual scheming and treachery — that might have been possible when his former stepmother Yuanniang was running the household, but Shiyiniang had a certain pride to her core. It was not that she lacked the means; rather, she had the air of one who considered such a victory unworthy, and felt too much disdain to stoop to it.

But Qin Yiniang gave a strange cry and shoved Xu Siyu away.

“You are not the Second Young Master, you are not the Second Young Master.” She shrank back in alarm to the corner of the bed once more, clutching the quilt tightly, murmuring to herself: “The Second Young Master would never say such things to me — I know it, I know everything. You are all pretending to be the Second Young Master to trick me…”

“Yiniang!” Xu Siyu stared at Qin Yiniang in startled bewilderment, sensing that something was deeply wrong.

He watched her — she wore her fear openly on her face, as guileless as a child. He considered for a moment, then quietly moved to sit beside her.

“What has come over you?” he said gently. “Did you not write to me saying your old palpitations had returned, asking me to come home quickly? How is it that you have forgotten it yourself?”

Qin Yiniang tilted her head to one side and furrowed her brow, trying to recall.

Xu Siyu’s voice grew softer still. “Do you remember? When I was small, we had a secret between us.” As he spoke, he reflexively glanced behind him. “That year the osmanthus bloomed beautifully. You made a preserved osmanthus sugar in secret and buried it under the tree, and when the New Year came you brought it out and made osmanthus pastries. The Old Dowager had placed me in my second aunt’s care, and you did not dare come freely to my rooms. So you watched for the heavy snowfall, waited until you saw no one in the courtyard, tucked the osmanthus pastries inside your garments, and brought them to me in secret. You told me again and again: I must not breathe a word of it to anyone — if the Old Dowager were to find out, you would never be allowed to come and see me again. That is something I have never told another soul to this day. Has Yiniang ever spoken of it to anyone?”

As she listened, a soft and gentle smile spread slowly across Qin Yiniang’s face. “I remember. It was winter, and I was afraid the pastries would go cold and not taste good. I tucked them against my skin, beneath my inner garment — when I got back, my chest was red in a great patch.” She spoke, then her sightless eyes wandered in a searching motion toward Xu Siyu. “And I never told another person either. You are the Second Young Master, you are the Second Young Master…”

Xu Siyu tightened his grip on her hand. Recalling what his father had said — that Yiniang had not long to live — his eyes grew faintly damp. “Is there anything you wish to say to me, Yiniang? Just as before, I will keep it from everyone.”

Qin Yiniang laughed softly at that.

She pushed the quilt aside from where she had been clutching it, took hold of Xu Siyu’s hand, and let her sightless eyes shift back and forth: “Do not make a sound — let me listen; is there anyone here!” She put on a show of listening, holding still for a long while. Then she straightened up and declared with grave solemnity, “I have listened. There is no one.” She then felt her way along his arm and placed both hands on his shoulders, pulling him to sit upright. With a serious expression, she said: “Second Young Master, listen carefully. This matter is very important.” She paused, lending her next words even greater weight. “You are the true Heir of the Marquis Yongping household!”

Here we go again…

Xu Siyu let out a long sigh and replied helplessly: “Yiniang, I have already told you this many times. I may be the eldest son, but I am a son of a concubine. The heir is chosen from legitimate sons, not those born of concubines. That is the rule…”

“No, no.” Qin Yiniang retorted loudly. “That does not count. It is like the Emperor — who becomes the Emperor is the will of Heaven. And who becomes the Heir of the Marquis Yongping household is also the will of Heaven. You are the one Heaven has chosen as the Heir of Yongping. And in time, you will be the Marquis of Yongping. You will inherit the Xu family’s hundred years of legacy…”

Xu Siyu called out sharply “Yiniang!” — as though trying to rouse his birth mother from a dream — “Xu Sizhun is already the Heir. Father has already designated Xu Sizhun as the Heir!”

Qin Yiniang only laughed her peculiar laugh.

“I said, that does not count.”

Xu Siyu felt a jolt run through his heart.

He recalled his father’s words upon arriving: “Your birth mother has a shallow understanding of things, and has made certain errors in judgment. But given that she is gravely ill beyond all hope, I will not press the matter further. I know your heart is anxious — go and see her first. When you return, we will speak properly, father and son.” He thought also of how his grandmother had been stricter with him than usual, of the slightly avoidant quality in Shiyiniang’s gaze, of Xu Sizhun’s sudden illness…

“What have you done?”

The words of accusation left his lips before he could stop them.

“I have done nothing!” Qin Yiniang smiled her peculiar smile. “I have done absolutely nothing!”

Xu Siyu stared at her blankly, memories spinning through his mind one after another like a lantern turning in the dark.

“You must listen to the Second Madam and learn well from her. She is a woman who can manage the outer courtyard. A woman of true capability. In time, when the Marquis sees that you understand even the affairs of the outer courtyard, he will know who it is that truly holds this household together.”

“Your father won a great victory and is certainly in high spirits. He is a bold man at heart, and so he favors those who are bold. When you go to pay your respects to your father presently, you must not show any fear. The moment you show fear, he will think less of you. Whatever you do, do not be like Zhun Ge.”

“In the inner quarters, the Old Dowager reigns supreme. As long as you can win the Old Dowager’s favor, even your stepmother cannot do anything to you!”

“What are you afraid of? You have always been smarter than Zhun Ge, more capable than him… So what if he is legitimate? You are still the eldest, are you not?”

Fine beads of perspiration gathered at his temples.

“Yiniang,” Xu Siyu said, his mouth gone bitter, “you — have you…”

Have you done something that has wronged Xu Sizhun?

Yet a thread of faint hope still clung within him.

Surely not. Qin Yiniang had always hoped he might become the heir — but she had only ever grumbled about it in his presence. Whenever she encountered the Old Dowager or the Second Madam and the others, she was like a mouse before a cat, not daring to breathe a word. He knew this better than anyone.

Qin Yiniang looked at him and smiled. “I did nothing. Truly. I could swear it before the Bodhisattva. I did nothing. If I had done something, your father would have discovered it the year Tong Yiniang died, and would never have let me live until now.”

At that, as though something had just come to mind, she laughed again — that same soft, strange little laugh.