The Old Madam of the Ming family was a devout Buddhist, and wished to take her vegetarian meal at the Great Zhao National Temple before returning home. When the meal hour drew near, the members of the Zhenguo Ducal Residence made their way one by one into the vegetarian dining hall.

The Old Madam was last to arrive, leaning on the Third Madam’s arm and making her unhurried way to the seat of honor. Once the Old Madam had settled herself, she said in an even tone: “Everyone is here. Let us eat.”

The assembled party replied in assent and lifted their chopsticks. The Great Zhao National Temple was accustomed to receiving imperial family and aristocracy, and its vegetarian cuisine was executed with extraordinary care. They ate at individual tables, the dining hall filled only with the faintest sounds of movement.

Though great families kept to the rule of silence at meals, occasions to be seen by the Prince of Yong were not common — when else would they have the opportunity? The Old Madam took the initiative to ask Li Huazhang: “Your Highness, how have you been faring of late?”

Li Huazhang, hearing the Old Madam’s question, set down his chopsticks and replied: “This junior is doing well in all respects. Thank you for your concern, Old Madam.”

He still referred to himself as a junior — signaling that he still bore the Zhenguo Ducal Residence a debt of gratitude. The Old Madam let a smile soften her features and asked: “It is only this old one’s duty — Your Highness is too kind. How is the renovation of the Prince of Yong’s residence coming along?”

With all eyes upon them, Li Huazhang gave the Old Madam full face. He said: “The residence has been largely put in order and will be ready to move into in a few days. Though the palace will send people, this is the first time this junior has run his own household — I am uncertain how to manage many aspects of staffing, and must ask Old Madam to give me guidance.”

Li Huazhang knew the Old Madam did not treat Ming Huashang well. When he had been in the residence and shared the name of dragon-and-phoenix twins with Ming Huashang, the Old Madam had at least maintained an outward fairness. Now that he was gone and Su Yuji had not yet returned, the Old Madam had lost whatever restraint she had and grown increasingly unequal in her treatment of Ming Huashang.

Li Huazhang naturally felt pain on Ming Huashang’s behalf — but venting his feelings would solve nothing. He could use his own position to dress down the Old Madam — and then what? After Ming Huashang returned to the residence, would she live more easily? She would not. Playing the hero would do nothing but force Ming Huashang and her family into opposition with each other. It would be entirely meaningless.

The most important thing was always to make Ming Huashang’s life more comfortable — not to satisfy a momentary indignation. The Old Madam was Ming Huashang’s grandmother; blood relations could not be severed. He could not leave Shang Shang with the name of an unfilial granddaughter, could not encourage her to sever ties with her family. The only thing he could do was increase the weight of the cards Ming Huashang held, making it clear to the Old Madam that treating Ming Huashang well would bring ever greater benefit — that, at its roots, was the only way to address the Old Madam’s partiality.

The Old Madam was satisfied to hear Li Huazhang’s words, though she also possessed self-awareness — Li Huazhang bore the surname Li, after all, and his residence would naturally have Princess Taiping to help and guide things along. It was not the Old Madam’s place, as an outsider from a vassal family, to assume the role of matriarch there. The Old Madam said: “This old one’s knowledge and experience are shallow. I would not dare presume to direct matters in the Prince of Yong’s residence. But a household without a female head of house is no lasting arrangement — Your Highness might do well to consider choosing a princess consort.”

The Third Madam, fearing the Old Madam might press too eagerly and incur the Prince of Yong’s displeasure, quickly added: “Mother, the Prince of Yong is young and accomplished — this is the time for building great achievements. There is no hurry about marriage.”

Li Huazhang had previously made his refusal to marry quite explicit, and everyone in the Zhenguo Ducal Residence had assumed he would respond in the same way now. To their astonishment, Li Huazhang lifted his teacup, took a calm sip, and then said: “Old Madam is right. One should establish one’s household before establishing oneself in the world. It is time to give thought to the matter of marriage. When I come to pay my respects to the young woman I have in mind, I must ask Old Madam to generously offer her guidance.”

Ming Huashang had been happily working through her rice when she heard this and nearly choked. She looked up in startled disbelief, and found the same expression mirrored on every other face in the dining hall.

Even the Old Madam was greatly taken aback. She turned the words over carefully in her mind, and ventured a question: “From what Your Highness says — you already have someone in mind for the role of princess consort?”

Li Huazhang smiled and said: “I certainly favor the other party — but whether it may come to pass depends on her own wishes.”

The Old Madam gave a faint, complex smile. She could not quite determine what Li Huazhang meant, and cast about half-truly, half-teasingly: “Your Highness is the finest of men. If you were to propose, how could any young woman bring herself to refuse?”

There was flattery in these words, though not an overstatement. The events at the Hibiscus Garden during the Flower Festival had not been publicly announced — apart from a small number of those in the imperial and aristocratic families, most people did not know what had happened that day. What was known was only that the former Jing Zhaoyin Liao Yushan was suspected of fomenting disorder and had been arrested, and that the curse of the Jing Zhaoyin never completing two full years in office had once again held true.

The appointment document for the new Jing Zhaoyin had not yet been issued, but real authority over the Jing Zhaofu was already being gradually assumed by the former deputy Jing Zhaoyin — which was to say, the present Prince of Yong. The Empress had given Li Huazhang so prestigious a fief and placed the administration of the capital in his hands: the Empress’s high regard for Li Huazhang was plain to see.

To say nothing of the fact that Li Huazhang’s own father Li Xian had also been a crown prince — which made Li Huazhang’s claim more legitimate than even that of the current Crown Prince or Prince Xiang. That the Empress might bypass her own sons and pass the throne back to the line of Crown Prince Zhanghuai was not beyond the realm of possibility.

In recent times, the court was rife with speculation, and the Prince of Yong had in an instant become the most sought-after figure. Even before this, Li Huazhang had been renowned for both his talent and his character — in Luoyang, he and Xie Jichuan had together been called the Twin Wonders of the Divine Capital. Now, with his imperial family standing added to all of this, Li Huazhang’s reputation surged past every peer of his generation, making him, without question, the most coveted eligible match in all of Chang’an.

Noble in birth, young and striking in appearance, with real political authority in hand — with a prince of such qualities extending his hand, not merely the role of princess consort but even that of a secondary consort would likely be rejected by few women in all of Chang’an.

Li Huazhang responded to the Old Madam’s words with neither agreement nor denial, then turned and asked Ming Huashang — who was burying herself in her meal at the next table: “Shang Shang — what do you think?”

Every gaze in the hall swung at once toward Ming Huashang. Ming Huashang had been happily eating when she nearly swallowed the wrong way. She hastily picked up her teacup to recover, not daring to raise her eyes, and said: “It is your own business — how would I know?”

Li Huazhang only smiled, and reached over to place food in Ming Huashang’s dish. “Eat slowly. Mind the heat.”

No one spoke in the dining hall — but the women present were exchanging quick glances, their eyes all alike in their uncertain astonishment.

What did the Prince of Yong mean by that? Was it what they thought it meant?

Duke Zhenguo sat at the head of the table. He could no longer bear to watch, and said: “You are all still young. What is there to be considering all this for? Eat your meal properly. Stop filling your heads with nonsense.”

Li Huazhang sensed that Duke Zhenguo had grown somewhat displeased, and prudently reined in the subject, no longer allowing himself liberties. But the Old Madam was most dissatisfied. She shot Duke Zhenguo a glance and said: “Young? Second Young Miss is already seventeen. It is the way of heaven and principle that men should marry when grown and women when of age. In our time, the officials in charge of marriage would come knocking of their own accord and arrange a forced match for any young woman past sixteen who remained unwed. Second Young Miss has been causing difficulties long enough. It is time she thought of her future. But it is not proper for younger sisters to discuss marriage before their elder sisters have been settled. Why not choose an auspicious day, open the ancestral shrine, have Yuji take the family name, and move back into the residence?”

Su Yuji had eaten quickly, and had already cleared her dishes. She was in the middle of wiping her hands when she heard her own name out of nowhere, and gave a sharp, involuntary start.

Duke Zhenguo, afraid Su Yuji would feel pressured, quickly said: “It is all right. These things take time to adjust to. Let the child come in her own time.”

The Old Madam’s pace was unhurried, but her meaning was hard-edged and allowed no room for argument: “A hurdle must eventually be crossed. Delay only invites greater entanglement. What is more, a young woman living alone outside the household is unseemly. Let her come back sooner rather than later, learn the proprieties from her elders, and things will be easier to speak of in terms of marriage afterward.”

Su Yuji set her handkerchief quietly on the table and asked in return: “Learn the proprieties from elders? Which elders would those be?”

The Old Madam glanced at her from the corner of her eye and said, with detached calm: “The Ming family has so many matrons and attendants — your second and third aunts-by-marriage are both here. Are you afraid there would be no one to teach you?”

Su Yuji sat straight-backed and said: “If I were to show filial respect, it ought to be to my own birth mother. Since you did not give birth to me and did not raise me — what gives you the right to direct my affairs?”

Ming Huashang bit down on her chopstick and inwardly marveled with the greatest admiration. The Old Madam of the Ming family had never been addressed like this in her life; her expression fell at once, and Duke Zhenguo hurried to say: “All right — silence at meals. Let us finish eating, and say what needs to be said afterward.”

The Old Madam’s chest was stuffed with grievance but Duke Zhenguo had blocked her mouth. She cast a sullen glare at him and maintained a dark expression for the rest of the meal. With the mood in the room as it was, everyone had long since lost any appetite. The remainder of the meal was eaten in dead silence, tasting of nothing.

When everyone had set down their chopsticks, Duke Zhenguo’s expression became grave and solemn. He said: “In my life I have no cause for shame before Crown Prince Zhanghuai, and no cause for shame before loyalty, righteousness, humaneness, or filial piety — only toward my family have I fallen short. I have not been a devoted father. Toward Yuji, especially, I have done her a great wrong. I gave Yuji my word that I would not press her — she may come home whenever she is ready. But there will always be a place for her here. I am too old now to make a promise I cannot keep — that would be far too shameful.”

Everyone went slightly still. Ming Huashang said: “Father…”

Duke Zhenguo raised a hand to stop Ming Huashang and said: “Do not worry about me. I know what I am doing. This is the consequence I must bear. I am a man already half in the earth — I have given the first half of my life to loyalty and righteousness, and I ask only that the second half be my own. I have no face to ask my children to repay filial duty. Let them live however they wish — they need not be at my side. As their father, I cannot make up for the years I was absent, only do what I am able in the time I have. Therefore, with everyone present here today, let us divide up the family’s assets.”

This time it was the Old Madam who was struck with a violent shock. Her expression changed sharply and she rebuked: “Preposterous! I am not yet dead, and you are already talking of dividing the family?”

Duke Zhenguo swept his gaze over the Second and Third Branch families, whose expressions were each their own kind of complicated, and said with calm composure: “Mother, this was inevitable sooner or later. I do not believe Third Sister-in-law has not already raised it with you in private. Rather than whispering and hiding things from each other, better to bring it out where all of us can discuss it together. As the eldest brother, it falls to me to hold the household in order, and I will say a few words regarding the division of assets. The communal funds will be divided into three portions. The Second Branch and Third Branch will each take one portion. The gold, silver, and precious goods in the storerooms will be assessed at market value and similarly divided into three: the Second and Third Branches will choose first, and whatever remains will go to the First Branch.”

When the Old Madam heard of dividing the assets, her reaction was extreme. Yet the Second Madam and Third Madam fell into silence, ears wide open as they listened to Duke Zhenguo’s words.

How much money was in the public accounts was something everyone had a rough figure for — what was presented openly would be done fairly and honestly, with nothing worth contesting. The real question was in the private assets.

The First Branch’s private money was not something they could hope to receive. The Second Madam had given up on that from the start. What she cared about was the Old Madam’s private savings.

Duke Zhenguo took a sip of water and continued: “As the eldest son, supporting and caring for my mother is my duty as a matter of course — I will see to Mother’s care for the rest of her life. If Mother wishes to go to Second Brother’s or Third Brother’s household for a change of scene, I will say nothing to object. The monthly allowance Mother has received over the years and her dowry belongings are your personal savings — I would not presume to touch them, and Mother may give them to whomever she wishes. Yulan’s dowry was never part of the Ming family’s money; it will be divided equally into two shares, one for Yuji and one for Shang Shang, and I will not interfere. As for the shops, farmsteads, imperial gifts, and bolts of cloth and silk under my own name — assessed at market value and divided into four shares: one for Yuji, one for Shang Shang, one for the Prince of Yong, and one for Su Xingzhi.”

Li Huazhang and Su Xingzhi both gave a start of surprise. Su Xingzhi had never imagined he would figure into this arrangement at all, and immediately said: “Your Grace, I could not accept. I am no relation to the Ming family — how could I receive your family’s assets?”

Li Huazhang also said: “Indeed. In my heart you are like a father. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for your kindness in raising me, and yet you would have me take your money? I could not do it.”

Duke Zhenguo waved a hand. “To say something that borders on irreverence — I watched the Prince of Yong grow up. In my heart he is no different from my own child, and naturally his name belongs in my account of what I leave behind. The share for Su Xingzhi is in thanks. Without him and Nanny Su, Yuji would never have survived to this day. Yuji is a priceless treasure to me. Measured against that, what is one share of property?”

The Old Madam had been managing to listen, barely, up to this point — but here she could hold herself back no longer. Giving a share to the Prince of Yong was one thing. The Prince of Yong had received many imperial gifts of late and did not want for money; he could not possibly pocket Duke Zhenguo’s things as simple charity. But why give a share to Su Xingzhi?

A child raised in the countryside — how much could she have cost? And Duke Zhenguo was going to offer one-fourth of his farmsteads and properties in thanks? Had he lost his mind?

The Old Madam began in a measured tone: “The Su family raised Yuji, and should certainly be given proper thanks. But there are other ways to express gratitude. To repay it with money is too vulgar.”

The Third Madam was afraid of the First Branch’s assets being handed off to outsiders, and she too added her voice: “Indeed. Elder Brother-in-law is still in his prime — talking of dividing the family’s assets so soon is premature. The two young misses are young, and inexperienced in such matters. To suddenly hand over a sum of money that large to them rashly could invite disaster.”

Duke Zhenguo replied, mild but resolute: “I am a simple man and cannot find elegant words. Means other than money feel insufficient to express what I feel. Whether the children are willing to accept it is their own filial choice — but as an elder, I must hold the scales level. I have thought this all through. I have lived my life to no great accomplishment. My greatest wish was to raise the Prince of Yong to adulthood without failing Crown Prince Zhanghuai’s trust, and for my two daughters to find their way home so that we might share a reunion meal as a family. Now that both of these wishes have been fulfilled, I want nothing more. As for whether the Zhenguo Ducal Residence’s title can be preserved — if the court grants the grace, then preserved it shall be. If not, so be it, and I will go and beg my father’s pardon before him in the underworld. As for the assets — while we are all gathered here, let us divide them now.”

The Second Madam heard these words and felt her eyelid give a quiet jump. Without any visible reaction, she glanced over at the Old Madam and the Third Branch, and understood inwardly: so this is where it was all heading. Duke Zhenguo had said so much beforehand, but the one true thing he wished to say was this single sentence — he would sooner let the Ming family’s title fall into extinction than adopt someone else’s son.

The Second Madam was on the verge of laughing aloud, and had to suppress herself with considerable effort in order to maintain a composed face before everyone. The Old Madam’s and the Third Madam’s expressions were very unpleasant indeed. Both had realized that Duke Zhenguo was saying this deliberately for their benefit — the conversation in the rest chamber had been overheard.

Duke Zhenguo appeared not to notice the strained atmosphere, and continued: “There is one more matter I wish to raise with Mother. I would like to have Nanny Su’s memorial tablet enshrined in the Ming family’s ancestral hall.”

The Old Madam’s brow jolted — she thought she had heard wrong: “What?”

Duke Zhenguo said with gravity: “Nanny Su cared for Yulan as she grew up, and afterward raised Yuji as well. Her debt of grace to the Ming family is as deep as that of a family elder’s. It is proper for the Ming family to offer her incense and remembrance. Let her tablet be placed beside Yulan’s — so that when Yulan feels lonely, she can still speak with Nanny Su.”

Duke Zhenguo said this, then poured a full cup of tea and looked toward Su Xingzhi: “Thank you, on behalf of you and Nanny Su, for caring for Yuji all these years. I offer this cup of tea in place of wine — to you and to Nanny Su.”

Su Xingzhi quickly raised his cup in response. Li Huazhang’s gaze passed quietly over everyone else present, and with a face as still as calm water he poured a cup of tea, smiled, and said: “Duke Zhenguo has spoken rightly. The Duke’s heartfelt wishes are such that to refuse would be discourteous. Then I shall presume to accept the Duke’s gift with grateful thanks.”

The moment Li Huazhang accepted his share of the First Branch’s private assets, the Old Madam found herself unable to voice her objection even if she wished to. His acceptance had tacitly ratified this method of division. In actual fact, the Second and Third Branches had not received any less than before — but compared to what the Third Madam had envisioned, it was far, far less than she had imagined.

The meal concluded without any warmth. The Old Madam had no heart to remain at the Great Zhao National Temple to seek the Buddha’s blessing any further, and with a dark expression gave the order to return to the residence. As they were making their way out,

whether by intention or by accident, they happened to catch Li Huazhang speaking with Ming Huashang: “Shang Shang, managing property is not something I am skilled at — but I cannot bring myself to squander Duke Zhenguo’s good intentions either. Could I give my share to you and ask you to manage it for me?”

Su Xingzhi, hearing this, also said: “Yuji, I am not a member of the Ming family and have no reason to receive Duke Zhenguo’s private assets. My share — please take it back.”

Su Yuji glanced at him and said: “You don’t have the faintest idea how to keep accounts. That much is obvious. Very well — I will handle it. I will send you your portion of the dividends each month.”

Ming Huashang, hearing this, said quietly: “Actually, I do not know how to keep accounts either. In the past, I only knew how to spend money — I never thought about earning it.”

Li Huazhang heard this and made a show of troubled dismay. “Then what are we to do? I don’t know how to manage it either.”

Ming Huashang’s eyes went wide with artless innocence. “Sister Yuji — would it trouble you terribly to take on ours as well? Whatever portion of the dividends you send to Su Xingzhi, just send us the same. Or, if it is easier, I could come and collect myself?”

Su Yuji listened to this and felt her brow begin to draw together. That Su Xingzhi would hand things over to her came as no surprise — they had always pooled their money and spent it together, and Su Xingzhi putting things in her keeping was simply routine. But that Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang would hand over their shares too — was that not a little too trusting?

Su Yuji gave an indirect hint: “Money and property touch on many threads, and we do not live under the same roof — it may not be convenient.”

Ming Huashang said, with complete sincerity: “Then move back to the ducal residence — would that not be convenient?”

Su Yuji gave a small start, then suddenly understood everything. All this while Ming Huashang had been playing the artless simpleton — and it had all been leading to this one sentence. Li Huazhang, standing behind her, smiled without a word — plainly he had seen exactly where this was going the instant Ming Huashang opened her mouth. Su Yuji swept a look over the seemingly offhand Ming Huashang, the furious and resentful Third Madam, the servants of the Ming household whose expressions were difficult to read, and in the distance Duke Zhenguo — who was clearly hoping with all his heart for this while pretending not to care — and she suddenly felt that life was short, and spending it tangled up in all these things was a terrible waste of time.

Su Yuji gave a mild nod, with the same air of nonchalance, and said: “All right.”

Ming Huashang was still for a moment, then in an instant her eyes lit up like the sky breaking open at dawn — like the first ray of light after rain, falling upon a lake’s surface, pouring out its brightness and joy without the least restraint: “That is wonderful. We will go right now — there is so much to pack when moving house! Before dark, we must hurry and start—”

Duke Zhenguo, hearing these words, was overcome with delight, and quickly came forward: “Shang Shang, you just go ahead back to the residence. I will go to Yuji’s courtyard to help move things.”

“You need not.” Ming Huashang said bluntly. “A girl’s belongings are delicate — what do you know about how to move them properly? You will only break things. Go away, I will go to Sister Yuji’s place and help. Lucky thing I brought Jin Bao and the others today — one to pack, one to escort the cart, one to go through the list — exactly the right number.”

At this, all the maids immediately began to confer on how best to pack everything up, their voices overlapping and chattering until not even a needle could have found a way in edgewise. Li Huazhang had at first tried to participate in the conversation, but after a while he simply gave up — content to listen, offer no opinions, and resign himself cheerfully to the role of a useful pair of hands.

Su Yuji was carried along in the tide of everyone around her, gradually moving away. Su Xingzhi lagged behind, watching Su Yuji, who was little by little beginning to let a smile show among the crowd. His gaze held both warm gladness and a quiet, wordless loss.

She would gradually find her footing in a new world. Half a year at most, and she would be indistinguishable from the young women born and raised in Chang’an. The little girl of those early days, who had needed him to help tie her hair — she no longer needed him for that.

The star that had strayed into the mortal world seventeen years ago had at last returned to the place where she belonged.

He should be glad for her.