“Nanny Su’s hometown?” Jin Bao frowned. This time she was truly at a loss. “This servant does not know.”
Ruyi came in from outside, heard Ming Huashang asking about Nanny Su’s hometown, and offered, “Madam was born of the Taiyuan Wang clan. Nanny Su was part of Madam’s dowry household — she would most likely be from the Taiyuan area as well.”
“Taiyuan Prefecture.” Now it was Ming Huashang’s turn to frown. Taiyuan Prefecture was the Northern Capital — it was a considerable distance from Luoyang. Ming Huashang had to notify her elders even to go out and buy something — how could she possibly leave Luoyang to go to Taiyuan Prefecture in search of Nanny Su?
She could only send someone else. But the people around her were all maidservants and nannies, hardly able to move freely beyond the inner household. Besides, the servants of the Duke Zhenguo’s residence answered to the Miss of the Ming family, not to Ming Huashang herself. If they learned from Nanny Su that Ming Huashang was a false daughter, would they still obey her? Worse still — might they secretly send word to the Old Madam, to the second branch, or to the third branch?
This concerned Ming Huashang’s very survival. She dared not gamble on human nature. The more she thought about it, the more of a headache she had. Ruyi, seeing Ming Huashang’s expression grow troubled, asked tentatively, “Young Miss — what are you asking all this for?”
Even if Zhao Cai, Jin Bao, Jixiang, and Ruyi were all her most trusted confidantes, she dared not breathe a word of this to them. Ming Huashang shook her head and said lightly, “It is nothing. I have no more needs this evening — all of you go and rest.”
Ming Huashang sent the maidservants out and waited until the room was quiet. Then she stared at the candle flame and let out a long, quiet sigh.
It was only when one truly encountered difficulty that one understood how short of capable hands one was. She did not want to probe whether Zhao Cai, Jin Bao, Jixiang, and Ruyi were loyal to her or to the Duke Zhenguo’s household — such a test was meaningless. Whatever result it yielded, it would only plant a splinter between her and her maidservants. She would be better off finding a different path: recruiting people who had no connection to the Ming family and who answered to her alone.
These people would need to be capable and reliable, accustomed to traveling far and wide, and above all — to keep their mouths shut. Ming Huashang had many uses for trusted hands: not only the trip to Taiyuan to investigate Nanny Su, but eventually setting up a separate household registration for herself in Luoyang and purchasing a residence outside the estate.
Ming Huashang thought long and hard, and let out a helpless sigh. The idea was a good one — but building a team of trustworthy people was nowhere near so simple.
And right now she was still a young miss of a ducal household. People were willing to do as she said. But once she left the Ming family and became a lone, unsupported commoner — would those same people still comply? Might they not become arrogant and take advantage of her, turning around to plunder her own property?
She could not afford not to guard against this. Relying on others would always leave her vulnerable. Relying on herself was the only truly secure path. Setting up her own household registration and purchasing a residence would inevitably require dealing with government offices — she could not use the Duke Zhenguo’s connections, and so she would have to navigate it all herself. She did not even know who to approach; even with money in hand, she had no way of knowing whom to approach with it.
Ming Huashang sighed inwardly. She had not even begun to earn money, and just achieving independence was already this hard. But despair was useless. She would have to go out and take a look at the world for herself some other day — no matter how difficult, she had to keep walking forward.
·
Word of Prince Luling’s return quickly spread throughout the capital. From some unknown source a rumor began circulating: the Empress’s summons of Prince Luling was said to signal her intention to establish a Crown Prince.
Establishing a Crown Prince was hardly a new topic, but this time the circumstances were noticeably different. The Empress had held Prince Luling in confinement for thirteen years. If she were not planning something of great consequence, why would she suddenly bring him back? Surely it was not merely to share a holiday meal?
The public was given little time to speculate. Not long afterward, the Empress hosted a welcoming banquet for Prince Luling. At the banquet, members of the Li imperial clan — dispersed for so long — gathered together at last, and even the heir apparent, who had not appeared publicly in years, was present.
When the heir apparent saw Prince Luling, the brothers, thinking of everything they had each endured, were overwhelmed with a thousand tangled feelings — and fell into each other’s arms, weeping. Princess Taiping also wiped away her tears. Once everyone had cried out their feelings, the heir apparent, Li Dan, himself proposed that he did not have the virtue to hold the position of heir apparent, and requested that the Empress depose him in favor of his third elder brother.
The Empress, following this natural opening, announced: Prince Luling was to be established as Crown Prince. As for Li Dan — for his magnanimity and virtue in yielding to his elder brother, he was to be invested as Prince Xiang.
Prince Xiang had once abdicated the throne itself to his mother, and had now further yielded the position of Crown Prince to his elder brother — he was virtually a living embodiment of the Twenty-Four Paragons of Filial Piety, and the tale was soon celebrated throughout the land. The succession struggle that had stretched on for ten years finally settled into place, and the ministers and nobles of the Li Tang court all breathed a deep sigh of relief.
For now, however, it was only the Empress’s verbal announcement. Until the title of Crown Prince was formally conferred, the ministers could not rest easily for a single day. The Ministry of Rites immediately set busily to work calculating auspicious dates, and petitioned the Empress to select a day for the formal investiture. The Empress, being a person of great resolve, did not drag her feet once the decision was made. She issued a decree setting the sixth day of the third month as the date for Prince Luling’s investiture as Crown Prince.
Princess Taiping was overjoyed beyond words when she received this news. Even Prince Xiang, though he had lost the position of heir apparent, felt far more relief than loss. After all, with Prince Luling as Emperor he could look forward to enjoying his princely wealth and privilege in peace — but if a member of the Wu clan took the throne… he had better start preparing to take his own life now.
But where there was joy, there was also sorrow. While the Li clan celebrated with elation, the mood in the Wu clan was bleak. Prince Wei had schemed and maneuvered for ten years, only to end up with nothing — how could he possibly endure such a reversal?
Once the news of the Crown Prince’s establishment broke, Prince Wei declared himself ill, dismissed all callers, and refused to leave the estate. Everyone knew he was in a foul mood, and no one dared poke at his temper. For a time, people gave the Prince Wei estate a wide berth and did their best not to provoke him.
Meanwhile, the long-dormant Duke Zhenguo’s residence was stirring with excitement. The Empress was going to establish Prince Luling as Crown Prince — surely it would not be long before the Ming family returned to an active role at court?
The Old Madam had hoped for this for many years, and now her dream had become reality overnight. She was so pleased that even her appetite improved. And while everyone’s spirits were high that morning, as they had gathered to pay their respects to the Old Madam, a doorman came running in, radiant with good news. “Old Madam — the Duke is back!”
The Duke Zhenguo had been outside the capital suppressing a rebellion and had not come home even for the new year. Today, he had finally returned. The Old Madam was delighted. “How has the Duke returned two days early? What are you all standing there for — go and invite the Duke in at once!”
The Duke Zhenguo’s voice, deep as a resonant bell, arrived in the room before he did. “Where are Second Brother and Changer?”
Ming Huashang heard the news of the Duke Zhenguo’s return and found herself momentarily at a loss, not having had time to prepare herself.
She still remembered the Duke Zhenguo’s face in her dream — cold and merciless, saying she was not a child of the Ming family, ordering her to be sent back to the Su household, every word as hard and unyielding as iron. It was a face she had never imagined her father could turn upon her. In the dream she had been dazed; even after waking, she still did not know how to face it.
Did her father’s love for her exist only because she carried his blood — and had nothing to do with who she was as a person? Or was it that whoever occupied the role of the Duke Zhenguo’s daughter, he would lavish her with affection, and once that was gone she would be swept away like leaves in an autumn wind — not worth a second glance, an embarrassment he would rather see eliminated?
In that case — what were all the years of care the Duke Zhenguo had given her worth? The birthday gifts he sent without fail every year, no matter how occupied he was — what did those mean?
Ming Huashang could not work it out, and with the Duke Zhenguo conveniently absent from the estate, she had been retreating into her shell — pretending to herself that everything was fine, unwilling to face it. Today the Duke Zhenguo had returned without warning, and she was still wrestling with her inner conflict — when she heard that he had called for the two of them, his son and daughter, before even entering the room.
Something in Ming Huashang’s heart suddenly loosened.
Yes. Of course. Life was not a court of law. Some things did not need to be questioned to the very bottom. It was human nature for people to love the continuation of their own blood. If that blood were absent, then however fine the character, the child would still be someone else’s — how could that compare to one’s own?
If the Duke Zhenguo, upon learning his child had been substituted, felt disappointed and directed his anger at her — that was human nature. If he chose not to continue raising her, a cuckoo in the nest — that too was human nature, and beyond reproach. The Duke Zhenguo had genuinely treated her as a daughter for the first sixteen years. She had repaid him with the respect a daughter owed a father. That was enough. In the remaining years of her life, no matter whether the Duke Zhenguo still needed her filial care or not, she would hold in her heart the goodness he had given her.
Once she had reasoned it through, Ming Huashang stopped dwelling on the dream. She needed to prepare for the dangers it had shown — but she could not use one dream as grounds to suspect everyone around her without limit and ruin her own life in the process. She did not believe a person who remembered his daughter’s likes and her birthday could bring himself to take her life. If she had guessed wrong — she would accept it.
The Duke Zhenguo threw open the curtain with a sweep of his arm and strode in. The moment he entered, he saw Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang standing before the screen — the young man cool and clear as snow, the young woman bright and lovely as a flower. The two of them side by side were as fine as paired jewels, and the whole room came alive with their presence.
The young man and the young woman bowed one after the other, and when they spoke, they were only two words apart, but the final syllables fell together in perfect time. “We pay our respects to Father, and wish Father health and lasting peace.”
The Duke Zhenguo looked at this, and all the exhaustion of the long journey — days of eating in the wind and sleeping under open sky, racing through the snow — at last settled down inside him. “As long as you are both all right. I heard there was trouble at Princess Taiping’s banquet — you were not there, were you?”
As planned, the Duke Zhenguo should have returned two days later. But on the road he had heard that people had died at Princess Taiping’s banquet and that many young noblemen and ladies had been trapped on the mountain. He had been badly frightened and pressed his horse hard to return to the capital, afraid that his own son and daughter might be among them.
Ming Huashang thought to herself: of all times for this to happen, it had to be now — she had lounged around for sixteen years, and the one time she actually went out and did something, it was this kind of catastrophe. She smiled, deliberately keeping her expression carefree. “Is Father talking about the Feihong Banquet? Princess Taiping was kind enough to send an invitation to the Duke Zhenguo’s household, so Second Elder Brother and I went together. But actually nothing much happened — it was all exaggerated in the retelling.”
On the day after Ming Huashang and Ming Huazhang’s return, the Old Madam had already asked about this. But what lay beneath the surface was not merely a haunting — it was the struggle between the Wu clan and the Li clan, and so Ming Huashang had minimized it, saying only that the wind on the mountain was strong and someone had used it as material to spin a ghost story — all of it shadows and rumors, nothing more.
The Old Madam had believed her and asked no further. Today, Ming Huashang used the same words to deflect the Duke Zhenguo. But the Duke Zhenguo was not so easily satisfied. He went on asking in careful detail — what had happened on the mountain, why there had been an avalanche on Mount Mang, how they had fared during their time on the mountain, and so on.
The more lies she told, the more gaps appeared in them. Ming Huashang was running out of ideas and looked desperately toward Ming Huazhang for help.
Her intention was to have Ming Huazhang help her fill in the story. But to her surprise, Ming Huazhang’s expression became solemn and he bowed with great gravity to the Duke Zhenguo, saying, “The fault was mine. I allowed Second Miss to fall into danger. I ask Father to punish me.”
Ming Huashang was startled, and looked at Ming Huazhang in astonishment. Was this person too simple-minded, or did he have too strong a sense of responsibility? How could any of this be blamed on him?
She quickly grabbed hold of Ming Huazhang’s arm and used the leverage of pulling him to her feet to drag him upright, with a coaxing, wheedling manner. “Second Elder Brother — you could not have known what would happen in advance. What does any of this have to do with you? It was you who protected me all through our time at the villa. If you are to receive punishment, surely that means I would deserve punishment too?”
Ming Huazhang was considerably taller than Ming Huashang, and since he had been half-bowed down, his arm happened to be level with her chest. Ming Huashang hung off it like a slow loris. Ming Huazhang felt awkward, and with so many people watching could not simply push her away — he looked at her with those dark, ice-clear eyes and lowered his voice. “Second Miss, stop making a scene.”
Ming Huashang had no particular talents, but what she had in abundance was an extraordinarily thick skin. Paying no heed to any of that, she held on to Ming Huazhang and looked toward the Duke Zhenguo with the manner of someone throwing caution to the wind. “I don’t care — Father, you absolutely may not punish Second Elder Brother.”
The Duke Zhenguo was also taken aback. He had not even said anything yet — what was this?
And besides — had Changer and Huazhang not always been somewhat distant from each other? When had the two of them become so close?
The Old Madam, who had been ignored for some time, let out a meaningful cough. The Duke Zhenguo snapped back to his senses and hurried to pay his respects to her. “Your son greets you, Mother. Your son is unfilial — he could not be at Mother’s side over the new year. Your son deserves reproach.”
The Duke Zhenguo had barely knelt before a quick-witted maidservant was already helping him to his feet. The Old Madam said, “You are in the prime of your years — your duty is to serve the court. Staying by my side every day would be a sign of uselessness. Never mind that. We have all the family together at long last — no need to keep standing. Everyone sit down.”
The Duke Zhenguo took his seat. Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang sat to the Duke Zhenguo’s right, and the households of the second and third branches were seated together as well. The Old Madam touched briefly on the matter of suppressing the rebellion, then quickly moved to the main point. “Duke, you have just returned to the capital — have you heard about the matter of the Crown Prince?”
Such a momentous event — of course the Duke Zhenguo had heard. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Blood is thicker than water. Her Majesty has finally seen reason. This is a good thing.”
For the Ming family, it was certainly a good thing. The Old Madam sighed. “Thanks be to the Buddha’s protection — I have prayed for this day and night, year after year, and at last it has come. I only hope the investiture ceremony goes without a hitch, and that everything finds its proper course again.”
The Duke Zhenguo was actually less optimistic than the Old Madam. Establishing a Crown Prince and actually ascending the throne were two entirely different things — until the very last moment, it was impossible to say with certainty whether the realm would bear the surname Li or Wu.
But speaking to the family, he did his best to offer reassurance. “The Crown Prince has Lord Di standing firm beside him. Princess Taiping and Prince Xiang are also aligned with the Crown Prince. We need only set our minds at ease.”
Now that the Crown Prince was to be Prince Luling, the future direction of power would shift back toward the Li clan. The Old Madam rallied her spirits, her voice carrying a hint of hopeful expectation. “The capital is about to see great changes. It is time our family began to prepare as well. Duke, you once served under the Crown Prince of Zhanghuai — in a sense, you are an old retainer of the Li clan. Should we not seek out old acquaintances and go to pay our respects to the Crown Prince and Prince Xiang?”
The Old Madam and the Duke Zhenguo were speaking, and it was not for the others to do more than breathe. Ming Huashang looked carefully toward the Duke Zhenguo and noticed him pause for just an instant — a flicker of wavering — before whatever concern stopped him reasserted itself, and he answered conservatively. “The situation has not yet clarified. There is no urgency about paying respects.”
The Old Madam was a little disappointed, but on reflection decided that caution was for the best. The Empress’s feelings changed from one day to the next. Who could say she would not change her mind again, and pass the throne back to the Wu clan? The Duke Zhenguo’s estate should wait and observe a while longer before placing its bet.
The formal pledge of loyalty could wait, but the other preparations might as well begin in advance. The Old Madam said, “Whatever else may happen, the capital will henceforth always have a Crown Prince, and dealings with the Eastern Palace will require a mistress of the household to manage. Duke, Wang Shi passed away so many years ago. The two children, Second Brother and Second Miss, are already grown — there is no need to worry about a stepmother treating them harshly. Your own affairs — shouldn’t you give them some thought?”
The Duke Zhenguo was momentarily taken aback, and instinctively glanced at Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang. He answered with a hint of discomfort, “Mother, have we not already discussed this before? I…”
“That was then.” The Old Madam raised her voice, cutting over the Duke Zhenguo’s words. Her tone was heavy and left no room for argument. “The children are grown. In a few years they will be married themselves. There is no need to shield them from this sort of thing. You are a Duke — you have no one to share your warmth with, and that is not befitting your station. If you take a new principal wife, once she is settled, she can help look into suitable matches for Second Brother and Second Miss. Even if you have no thought for yourself — when Second Miss brings her husband home to visit in the future, surely there must be a mistress of the household to receive them?”
It had started as something awkward only for the Duke Zhenguo, but now both Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang had become equally awkward. Ming Huashang thought to herself that she did not even have a suitor’s shadow in sight, yet already people were planning for her to bring a husband home to visit.
But in truth, the Old Madam needn’t have worried. She genuinely would not be bringing anyone home. She was not even a real daughter of the household — where would a son-in-law come from?
The Duke Zhenguo saw that the Old Madam was set on having him remarry, and his expression also grew solemn. He said with gravity, “Mother — when Yulan lost our first child, she struggled so hard to protect the second. And then she was gone. At that moment, looking at Huazhang and Changer in their swaddling cloths, I made a vow: in this lifetime I will not remarry. I will devote myself entirely to raising these two children.”
The Old Madam’s expression was not entirely pleased. She said, “But they are already grown now. The first branch has only one son and one daughter. Once Second Miss is married and away, the first branch will have only Second Brother left — how can that be adequate?”
The Duke Zhenguo still did not yield, insisting, “Even when they are grown, when they are married, when they have children of their own — they will still be my son and daughter. Huazhang is accomplished in both civil and military arts, steady in character and sincere in his ways. One of him is worth ten or eight brothers. As for Changer—”
The Duke Zhenguo paused for the briefest of moments — barely perceptible — and Ming Huashang caught that flicker of something ambiguous. She raised her eyes and watched him quietly.
To her relief, the Duke Zhenguo immediately picked up the thread. “Changer is lively and delightful — in my heart, she is simply the finest young lady under heaven, beyond any comparison. Mother, I understand your good intentions. But I genuinely have no wish to remarry. I ask that you raise this matter no further.”
The Old Madam looked somewhat put out. Seeing this, the second branch quickly laughed and smoothed things over. “Since Elder Brother has no wish to remarry, then that is that. Mother, I hear that a new Buddhist temple has just been completed in the Chongye Ward — they say it is wonderfully efficacious…”
The third branch followed along with cheerful chatter, and the Old Madam’s expression gradually softened. The conversation drifted to domestic matters of family life, and the subject of remarriage was raised no more.
The Duke Zhenguo knew he had made his mother unhappy, and thereafter said no more but went directly to his personal account ledger and transferred fifty thousand coins, telling the Old Madam to take the sum as a donation for merit and virtue.
That was what finally brought a genuine smile to the Old Madam’s face. In high spirits, she invited all the daughters-in-law and granddaughters to go out together to make offerings at the temple.
The second and third branches, though privately envious of the first branch’s readiness to part with fifty thousand coins without so much as blinking, were glad enough to have an excuse to go out. The women quickly fell to discussing the arrangements for the outing.
Everyone agreed to wait until the second month, when the weather would be a little warmer, and then go to pay their respects to the Buddha. In the meantime, they might as well use the interval to have spring garments cut for the unmarried young ladies.
After that, the talk turned entirely to clothes and ornaments. The Duke Zhenguo had no interest in such things. He sat through it with patience for a while, then took his leave. Ming Huazhang naturally departed with the Duke Zhenguo, and after a moment’s thought, Ming Huashang followed as well.
The three of them stepped outside. The Duke Zhenguo knew what the children were about to say, and said nothing on the walk, waiting until they reached a secluded spot before Ming Huazhang did indeed speak. “Father, the Old Madam had a point. You need not, on our behalf—”
“It has nothing to do with the two of you.” The Duke Zhenguo walked through the courtyard, where frost clung to every surface and snow had settled deep. His voice was low and steady. “I truly have no inclination to take a wife. When you were small, there was no need. Now, there is even less.”
Ming Huazhang looked down in silence. Seeing how subdued both her father and her brother were, Ming Huashang smiled and said, “Father, don’t worry. Second Elder Brother and I will be doubly devoted to you in our care — we will absolutely not let you fall short compared to those people who have ten or eight sons.”
The Duke Zhenguo let out a hearty laugh at that. And Ming Huashang insisted on crowding over to ask Ming Huazhang. “Second Elder Brother — isn’t that right?”
Ming Huazhang looked at the small face crowding in front of him, feeling thoroughly exasperated, but the severity in his expression relaxed without his noticing. He looked at her and said, as if not quite sure who he was saying it to, “Naturally.”
The Duke Zhenguo laughed to his fill, then waved his hand. “I have no need for the two of you to lavish care on me. All I need is for you two to live well. Huazhang I can set my mind at ease about — he will fare well wherever he goes. It’s you I worry about — you have never applied yourself in either letters or arms, and find even embroidery too taxing. How are you going to find a suitable match? It seems your father cannot afford to relax just yet. I shall have to secure a generous dowry for you, or how will you ever get married?”
Ming Huashang was not at all pleased. “Father, what are you saying?!”
The attendants and maidservants all knew the Duke was teasing the Young Miss, and joined in with laughter and warmth. In the midst of all this, Ming Huazhang suddenly spoke, with a seriousness that cut through the cheerful noise around him. “Even when Second Miss is married, she will always be my sister. In this lifetime, I will ensure she lives in happiness and peace.”
His voice was grave and sincere, utterly at odds with the surrounding atmosphere. The Duke Zhenguo was briefly taken aback and dropped his smile, saying with quiet seriousness, “Her life is her own affair. The family protects her until she is married — the road afterward she must walk herself. You must not take everything onto your own shoulders. You will only spoil her.”
Listen to that — was that any way to talk? Ming Huashang said, “Father, you are so unfair. I am starting to think it’s Second Elder Brother who is your own flesh and blood, and I am the one you picked up.”
Everyone laughed warmly. In the midst of the laughter and light-heartedness they arrived at the gate. Ming Huashang understood that the Duke Zhenguo still had matters to discuss with Ming Huazhang regarding the Feihong Garden, and she excused herself tactfully, saying, “I’m tired. Father, Second Elder Brother — I’ll go in first.”
The Duke Zhenguo nodded without much thought. But Ming Huazhang stopped and turned back, giving her a careful and serious reminder. “In a few days I have something I need to attend to and may not have time to go to the temple with you all. Take your maidservants and guards with you, stay close to Grandmother and your aunts, and do not wander off.”
“I know.” The Eastern Capital had temples in great abundance, and Ming Huashang had grown up in Luoyang — she had visited no fewer than a hundred temples, if not fifty, and was thoroughly accustomed to such outings. “Thank you for the reminder, Second Elder Brother. I’ll go in now.”
Ming Huazhang stood beneath a snow-covered pine in his plain, light-colored robes — so clean and spare he seemed about to dissolve into the background. “All right.”
After Ming Huashang left, the Duke Zhenguo said with bemusement, “You two siblings went on one trip together and came back noticeably closer.”
Ming Huazhang continued to look down the path until Ming Huashang’s figure was out of sight, then withdrew his gaze. “Before, I was too neglectful of her. As Father said — she truly is a very fine young lady.”
Whatever dark undercurrents were running through the palace, the common people knew nothing of them — they welcomed spring with joyful hearts. The second month arrived. The ice and snow melted away, and the willow branches quietly put out new shoots of tender green along every street.
The Old Madam chose an auspicious day and, with her daughters-in-law and granddaughters in a great and lively procession, set out for the Bodhi Temple in the Chongye Ward.
The Li Tang emperors were devoted to Daoism; since the Empress took power, Buddhism had flourished in equal measure. Luoyang’s Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries alike thrived as a result.
Ming Huashang had no particular devotion to either Daoism or Buddhism, but temples were not simply places for offering incense and prayers. They housed scholars free of charge, and some even maintained schools and medical halls — so literary figures and painters came and went in great numbers, and the very walls of the temple served as a stage for the circulation of poetry and painting. For those with no interest in literature, there were temple fairs, markets, and even theater performances in the vicinity, all lively and bustling.
For a young lady like Ming Huashang, accompanying her elders on an incense-offering outing was essentially a pleasure excursion.
The Old Madam was deeply devout in her Buddhism, but the younger ladies had no such profound faith. Seeing the girls fidgeting on their prayer cushions, looking all around with expressions of barely concealed restlessness, the Old Madam understood perfectly well that they could not sit still. She said, “I have no need of you to stay with me. Go and take a walk on your own.”
Ming Huashang and Ming Shuo both brightened visibly. Ming Yu, who always styled herself as the model of filial devotion, said, “Let the younger sisters go out. I will stay with Grandmother to recite the sutras.”
Ming Huashang’s smile froze. Ming Shuo shot Ming Yu a withering glare. The Old Madam narrowed her eyes with an air of serene superiority and said, “There is no need. Keeping you here if your bodies are present but your minds are elsewhere shows no sincerity toward the Buddha. It is better not to pray at all. The weather is fine today — many people have come to the Bodhi Temple for an outing. You all go out as well, take some air, meet some people. Just do not wander too far.”
Ming Yu’s lips moved, but she finally dropped the pretense. Ming Huashang let out a long sigh of relief and quickly bowed to the Old Madam. “Many thanks, Grandmother.”
The three sisters gave the most convincing performance of harmony and affection as they filed out of the hall, but the moment they were outside, they parted ways as though they had never met — each looking past the others, scattering in different directions within moments until not one of them could be seen.
Ming Huashang was equally pleased to be on her own. She took Ruyi with her and strolled through the Bodhi Temple admiring the flowers. The Old Madam had been right: there was a great crowd at the Bodhi Temple that day, with nobles and distinguished figures arriving in a constant stream, and poets and men of letters could be found at every turn. Some, seized by inspiration, set brush to the temple walls and composed verses on the spot. Around them, visitors — whether scholars or common people — would stop to offer their opinions. Someone was just finishing a poem when another stepped up to challenge it, and the spectators began to comment and critique. One side thought the first poem superior, another defended the second, and before long the audience itself had split into two camps, arguing back and forth with great spirit.
Ming Huashang was watching the spectacle with delighted absorption when suddenly, from somewhere outside, came a voice crying out in terror. “Help! A ghost! There’s a ghost!”
The lively atmosphere gave a startled pause. Ming Huashang turned with everyone else to look, curious, toward the sound coming from behind.
A figure who looked like a servant came stumbling into the Bodhi Temple, was caught by the threshold, and went sprawling to the ground. He scrambled up as if he felt nothing, and went staggering and lurching toward the main hall. “Abbot, my master requests your presence — please come to the Gui residence and drive out the ghost!”