Father had been disappointed in him before. Father had looked on him in anger before. Father had patiently instructed him before. But Father had never simply turned and walked away.

Xu Sizhun stood motionless in the center of the room, his hands and feet ice-cold. He did not know how long he stood there before he came to himself and stumbled out the door.

“Fourth Young Master, what is the matter?” Wang Shu hurried forward to support him.

“Nothing, nothing.” In the full daylight, his face was white as paper.

Wang Shu dared not ask further, and helped him back to Danbozhai.

Jiang Shi, nearly at her term, her belly round and full, was going through small garments and blankets she had made for the unborn child with her personal maid Baozhu.

“Take them out and air them in these few fine days,” she was saying. Her eyes and brow glowed with the serenity and joy of a mother-to-be. “Only do not let the sun fall directly on them — it will make them too hot, and the child could get a rash.”

Baozhu laughed. “That is what Madam said, is it not?”

The “Madam” she spoke of was Jiang Shi’s own mother. With her daughter’s confinement approaching and this being her first child, she had been worried half to death, and wrote letter after letter with one instruction and then another.

“You know too much,” Jiang Shi chided, though without a trace of real displeasure, the corners of her mouth curving with a quiet delight.

Xu Sizhun did not know why, but all at once he felt a kind of dread at the thought of facing this scene.

He did not disturb Jiang Shi, and instead turned and went to Xu Sijie’s quarters.

Xu Sijie was still in class and had not yet returned.

He went directly to Xu Sijie’s study.

Maid Xi’er promptly brought tea and refreshments.

“You may all go,” Xu Sizhun waved a hand. “I will wait here for Fifth Brother.”

The two brothers had always been close, and Xu Sizhun’s manner was easy and unhurried. Xi’er exchanged a few pleasantries and withdrew with the other maids.

Xu Sizhun took in the room.

By the window, a wide heated platform was spread with a half-worn red cushion embroidered with five bats around a longevity character, with a black lacquered platform table and shelf. The table held only a set of cream-white porcelain teacups; the shelf was heaped with books. On the windowsill stood a pale blue plum vase holding a couple of half-wilted osmanthus sprigs, slanted just so. In the center of the room stood a large black lacquered writing desk inlaid with the endless-knot pattern. The left side was packed with the Four Books and Five Classics; the right held a brush-washer and inkstone, leaving only a double elbow-width of space in the middle, padded with a writing cloth for calligraphy. Behind, four man-height shelves of a curio cabinet were crammed from top to bottom with books — not neat, precisely arranged books, but volumes with bookmarks jutting out at odd angles, stacked slightly askew, the unmistakable look of books that were read and handled and reached for often, not merely set there for show.

Xu Sizhun picked up a book and settled into the reclining armchair beneath the moon window. Something dug into his side. He looked over — another volume, the “Annotations to the Four Books,” had been left on the chair. He shifted to place it on the small black lacquered side table nearby, only to find that table already occupied by several books — “Annotations to the Great Learning” and others of that kind.

Xu Sizhun smiled faintly and lay back in the reclining chair.

The chair swayed gently. He looked up and caught sight of a pot of white magnolia set on a flower stand in the corner — translucent petals, trembling ever so slightly, open at just the right moment.

What a lovely place this is.

The thought struck him unexpectedly.

How had he never noticed before how beautifully and comfortably Xu Sijie had arranged his study?

The thought faded, and with it his interest in reading. He closed his eyes. The reclining chair rocked him gently up and down, and his heart rose and fell with it.

Father must be very disappointed in him.

He had not imagined that Father would attach such importance to the Dafeng Silver House. He had thought: so long as Dafeng repaid the money, that was enough. When exactly they repaid it was beside the point. During those days, even though he had not been managing the accounts directly, he had asked Steward Bai every day whether anything out of the ordinary had come up… And Father had also said: learn to distinguish the important from the trivial, grasp what matters, and let the rest take care of itself. So he had kept hold of Steward Bai — was there any need to attend to every single detail himself?

With that thought, a restlessness stirred in him.

He felt the rocking chair making his head swim.

He suddenly stood up and called out loudly: “Wang Shu — has Fifth Young Master not returned yet?”

The curtain was swept back with a swish, and Xu Sijie’s smiling face appeared before him. “Fourth Brother, why are you not at home keeping Fourth Sister-in-law company? What brings you here?” He teased Xu Sizhun.

Since Jiang Shi had fallen pregnant, Xu Sizhun spent most of his time by her side.

Being teased by his own younger brother, Xu Sizhun felt a sheepish smile spread across his face. “I have been at home all day. I thought I would come and sponge a meal off you. Am I not welcome?”

“Of course you are welcome!” Xu Sijie smiled and called to Xi’er to have the kitchen add dishes. “Fourth Brother is staying for dinner.”

Xi’er answered cheerfully, but was stopped at the door by Xu Sizhun: “Is there wine? Bring some Jinhua wine.”

Both Xu Sijie and Xi’er were startled. Xi’er ventured to advise: “It is only noon, and the Marquis is home too…”

Before Xi’er had finished, Xu Sizhun said flatly: “Never mind. Go and see to the meal.”

Xi’er was now uncertain what to do. She looked to Xu Sijie.

The smile faded from Xu Sijie’s face.

He waved Xi’er off, signaling her to withdraw.

“Fourth Brother, what has happened?” Xu Sijie drew Xu Sizhun to sit on the wide platform by the window, his expression grave.

Xu Sizhun looked at his younger brother’s still slightly boyish face, and the words that had risen to his lips could not be made to come out. After a long pause, he asked: “How is your schoolwork going?”

Xu Sijie was a perceptive child. The less Xu Sizhun wanted to say, the more important it seemed to him.

But he could not force him, could he?

“Well enough,” Xu Sijie replied, talking with Xu Sizhun while carefully watching his face. “Master Chang wants me to put more effort into composing essays.” He smiled. “He says my diction swings between the overly ornate and the overly delicate, so that my essays bloom with flowers and embellishments but lack a certain plainness, and the overall effect becomes muddled.” He gave a helpless little shrug. “Now I am not sure how to write at all.”

“Tastes are different — everyone likes different things,” Xu Sizhun said at once, offering what comfort he could. “Do not lose heart. Who knows, you might land an examiner who likes exactly this kind of essay.”

As it touched on something he had long been anxious about, and as the person listening was the brother he relied on most, Xu Sijie held nothing back. “That cannot really be argued as a point. What if you happen to meet an examiner who shares Master Chang’s taste? Once you sit down in the examination hall, you cannot stake everything on luck. Besides, Master Chang also said: a well-written essay must have a punch to every line, a sting to every word — if poetry is needed, it is poetry; if rhymed prose is needed, it is rhymed prose. Which shows that I still have some way to go when it comes to essays.” A light of eagerness came into his eyes. “I think: diligence can overcome natural deficiency. What I am doing now is making a clean copy of every essay Master Chang has corrected for me, then comparing it with my original, and listing out all the places where Master Chang felt I had written poorly. That way I will know exactly where I am going wrong. Master Chang saw what I was doing the other day and said the method was a good one.”

Xu Sizhun had not expected such words from him, and the gaze he turned on his brother took on a new earnestness. “Fifth Brother has grown up.”

Xu Sijie smiled with a touch of embarrassment. “I cannot have Mother always worrying on your behalf.”

Xu Sizhun said nothing.

Xi’er brought in the platform table with the meal.

The two of them ate quietly. Xu Sijie arranged for Xu Sizhun to rest in the study, and Xu Sizhun fell asleep almost at once.

When the time came for him to return to class, Xu Sizhun was still sleeping. Xu Sijie told Xi’er with a few words to “take good care of him,” and tiptoed off to Tingtao Pavilion. But his footsteps had barely faded before Xu Sizhun’s eyes opened.

He lay there, not wanting to move.

After a while, he heard Baozhu’s voice: “…Thank you, Xi’er. Since Fourth Young Master has not yet woken, I will wait here a little while.”

“Come and sit in my room,” Xi’er said, her voice full of warmth. “I will have a small maid keep watch here — the moment Fourth Young Master stirs, we will come right over.”

Baozhu thanked her.

The eaves fell quiet, and the emptiness of it settled heavily.

“Was that truly what Nanny Guan said?” Jiang Shi looked at Baozhu, whose manner held a slight, watchful caution, and her expression grew somewhat grave.

“It truly was.” Baozhu kept her voice low. “Nanny Guan was just on her way to bring Fifth Young Master some food when she came across me there. She mentioned it in passing — just a few words here and there, but I am sure I heard correctly. This morning the Marquis called Fourth Young Master in because of a sum of silver connected to the Dafeng Silver House…” And she told Jiang Shi what had happened that morning.

Nanny Guan’s given name was Hupo — the most capable of all the servants at Madam’s side. To have risen to such a position, one was never a simple person. She happened upon Baozhu and, in what seemed like an offhand remark, let slip something that had taken place in the outer study — something she herself could never have found out no matter how she inquired, and it had come to her without any effort at all. The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

The thought struck her — and Jiang Shi caught her breath.

Perhaps Nanny Guan had come on Madam’s orders, to drop her a hint.

The moment that possibility took hold, Jiang Shi could sit still no longer.

“Come — let us go and see Fourth Young Master.”

In her own room, Eleventh Lady sat on the edge of the platform, smiling as she leaned and rested her head lightly on Xu Lingyi’s shoulder. “Still not past your anger?”

Xu Lingyi turned, and found himself looking into a pair of eyes that were half-smiling, half-serious.

He reached out to pinch her nose. She tilted her head and evaded him.

“I do not know what goes on in his head,” Xu Lingyi said, exhaling at length. “Wang Shu, Huo Qing, Yin Zhen — every one of those boys around him is sharp, capable, and quick. But what does he do? He personally runs down to the shop to personally oversee the craftsmen himself…” He shook his head. “He neglects what ought to be managed and throws himself headlong into what has nothing to do with him. You do not know how many wicked servants prey upon their masters — seeing that the household has no one properly in charge, some will even plunder the master’s property, or in certain cases, sell the young master to traffickers, condemning him to a base life forever.”

“But Zhun Ge’er only acted that way because the steward in charge was Steward Bai — the one you trust most of all. If it had been anyone else, how could he have been so careless?” Eleventh Lady said with a smile. “And as you yourself said, his accounts are kept with perfect clarity. He knew you needed silver, and without a moment’s hesitation told you how much of his own savings he had, and even said you could take it all… He is not quite as bad as you make him out to be.”

Xu Lingyi fell silent.

Eleventh Lady pressed her lips together in a quiet smile.

It was not quite a grave fault, and yet not without consequence — and at a critical moment it could lead to real harm. That, no doubt, was why Xu Lingyi was so frustrated.

Otherwise, she would not have ordered Hupo to drop a word to Jiang Shi’s side, so that Jiang Shi might gently counsel Xu Sizhun.

“By the way,” she said, something coming to mind, “as for the Prince of Yong borrowing silver — the Ministry of Works and the Imperial Household Department are both there. He could owe it slowly and pay it back in time… Could there be something else going on over there?”

—