Before this, the Emperor had seemed to be directing his blade at the Ministry of War, sending everyone in that ministry into a state of trembling self-preservation. Naturally, those like Zhang Xian who belonged to the capital’s Prince Tai faction got wind of it and had been keeping a low profile, waiting for the storm to pass.
But now the Sixth Imperial Prince, having yet to complete his assignment, had been summoned back by the Emperor and publicly scolded in front of the entire court until he could not lift his head.
Word had it that the Emperor considered the Sixth Prince, Liu Ling, a failure, and had demoted him all the way to Ji Prefecture to dredge silt and repair waterways.
From this it was plain to see that Prince Tai still held the Emperor’s firm trust and controlled the helm of power — which set the hearts of the Prince Tai faction thoroughly at ease.
Given that, even if his brother-in-law truly had something on Zhou Sui’an, Zhang Xian was no longer afraid.
What kind of person was someone surnamed Zhou? Without giving him a taste of real hardship, he would actually start thinking of himself as Zhang family’s revered ancestor!
Seeing how things stood, Chu Linlang had thought to ask Lin Niangzi to mediate again — but Lin Niangzi had changed her face as well and was back to treating her with cool indifference.
Chu Linlang knew that the falsified accounts she had swallowed down had passed their window of usefulness. She could only urge Zhou Sui’an to endure, to be careful in his duties and give no one cause to point fingers.
But Zhou Sui’an said with a face full of humiliated fury: “Who asked you to go begging them for peace? He truly thinks he can wave a chicken feather like an imperial order — some insignificant mounted official, what can he do to me?”
In the past, Chu Linlang would have patiently urged and reasoned with him at length. But now, for some reason she couldn’t quite name, if he wouldn’t listen, she simply couldn’t be bothered. Some lessons could only be learned by swallowing enough bitterness oneself.
But the poison of a petty man is worse than that of snakes and scorpions — within just a few days, even the tavern Linlang had newly opened had people coming to cause trouble.
The harsh levies and surcharges those bailiffs demanded came under so many pretexts they were too numerous to count. If she tried to argue each one, those bailiffs would raise an eyebrow and say: “What’s this? Does the business of the Zhou Prefectural Judge’s household get to operate under different rules?”
That one line was enough to cut off any desire Chu Linlang had to wrangle with these petty demons and their master. She understood perfectly well that these people were acting on orders and had come fully prepared. They came every few days to inspect and drive away customers, and a business that had been doing quite well quickly grew sparse and chilly.
Running an open tavern this way was a path to losses in the long run. Chu Linlang made her decision without hesitation: while she had not yet bled too much, she would sell off the tavern she had only just taken possession of, and cut off any excuse for people to make trouble.
Zhao Shi heard this and was heartbroken at the loss — it felt like throwing money away!
And when the tavern was put up for sale, no one came inquiring. It was only after more than ten days that someone came with an offer — and the price they named was far too low.
When Chu Linlang had someone look into it discreetly, she learned that the one who had sent someone to buy the shop was Lin Niangzi’s younger brother.
Chu Linlang suddenly recalled that Lin Niangzi had once asked her in detail about the tavern business. So all along, this profitable venture had been eyed and marked by someone else.
Zhou Sui’an heard this and was so furious he smashed three bowls one after another, cursing the Zhang family for going too far in their bullying.
Chu Linlang was also troubled — troubled that she could not sell the tavern for a decent price, and even more troubled by the prospect of continuing to work alongside a petty person like Zhang Xian who had powerful backing. She feared worse trouble was still to come.
For no clear reason, she suddenly thought of that hexagram Situ Sheng had read for her — if there were an opportunity, it would be best to make a move…
But if they wanted a transfer posting, that required both opportunity and connections. Without those, short of resigning his post and walking away, there was nothing to do but go on grinding it out alongside these snakes and rats.
Then one day, Zhou Sui’an came rushing home in a hurry, and without even stopping to change his clothes, pulled Chu Linlang — who had been loosening the soil in the flower bed — back inside.
“Look at this — the Sixth Imperial Prince actually wrote to me in person!”
It turned out that after being reprimanded by the Emperor, the Sixth Imperial Prince had gone, tail between his legs, to Ji Prefecture to manage the waterways. He had few capable people he could call on, and found himself thinking of Zhou Sui’an, who had been at his heels the whole time in Lianzhou, sharing his thoughts on local water management. He felt Zhou Sui’an was a capable man of use, and wrote to ask whether he would be willing to be transferred to serve under him.
Receiving this letter, Zhou Sui’an felt as if he had caught a red-hot coal in his hands.
Everyone knew the Sixth Imperial Prince had fumbled his assignment and fallen out of favor with the Emperor.
Yet the Sixth Imperial Prince was seeking to draw him under his wing. Zhou Sui’an felt this could not be anything good, and being unable to make up his mind, came home to discuss it with Chu Linlang.
Chu Linlang read the letter several times over, afraid that with her limited reading she might misunderstand the meaning, and had Zhou Sui’an read it aloud to her again.
It turned out the Sixth Imperial Prince had been sent by the Emperor to manage the waterways and was short of capable officials, so he had thought of Lianzhou’s Prefectural Judge Zhou and wished to have him come and assist in Ji Prefecture.
Chu Linlang thought Zhou Sui’an read too slowly, and snatched the letter back to read line by line herself, stumbling through it haltingly.
Zhou Sui’an thought her reading painful to listen to and took it back to read again himself.
He had actually formed his own thoughts on the walk home, so after reading it aloud, he said under his breath: “How about this — you go to the Governor’s wife and ask her to have the Governor report upward that Lianzhou’s military affairs are pressing and that local waterworks also need attention, keeping me here. That would give me a proper excuse to decline the Sixth Imperial Prince.”
Chu Linlang thought for a moment, then looked up at him: “Why not go?”
Zhou Sui’an said in aggrieved exasperation: “Do you really think me a fool? Ji Prefecture is an even poorer and more miserable place than Lianzhou. Only officials the court has cast aside get exiled there. I had great enthusiasm for the Sixth Imperial Prince, hoping my talent would earn me his recognition. I never imagined he would want to drag me into exile alongside him!”
Chu Linlang seemed lost in thought, and said slowly: “A person who moves lives; a tree that is transplanted dies. I think going to Ji Prefecture is not a bad idea…”
Zhou Sui’an stared at her in bewilderment, unable to understand why she would say such a thing. Chu Linlang rose and began to pace around the table, sorting through the thoughts in her mind.
She said slowly: “You have seen the Sixth Imperial Prince’s abilities for yourself. When did he ever make a decision on his own? For every major and minor matter, he had to seek the opinion of his academician. If the Emperor truly felt he had handled things wrongly, the person who should have been punished first is the one who helped him manage the task. But from what I hear, the Emperor came down hard with the raised hand and light with the fall — though he appears to have exiled the Sixth Imperial Prince to some godforsaken place to oversee waterworks, he kept that Lord Situ at the Ministry of Personnel… The Ministry of Personnel is no place where idle figures are stationed. His rank may not be high, but the work he handles is critical. From this it is plain to see: the Emperor has not abandoned the Sixth Imperial Prince.”
Zhou Sui’an blinked, unable to see the connection between the two.
Chu Linlang circled the table twice more and continued to lay out what was in her mind: “You ought to have seen it clearly yourself by now, here in Lianzhou — the waters here run deep! Everywhere you turn are people from the military faction and Prince Tai’s camp, every one of them with someone in the capital to pray to. You have no patron, and you have made enemies — I fear the longer you remain in this dangerous place, the more you risk getting covered in filth… So, since Ji Prefecture is no better or worse than Lianzhou in terms of hardship, might it not be just as well to go with the current, change your surroundings, and eat some bitterness elsewhere?”
Ji Prefecture offered no fat appointments. The Sixth Imperial Prince had not issued an official transfer order outright but had written to ask Zhou Sui’an’s wishes — which showed that the Sixth Imperial Prince was not a domineering or willful person.
Though he was a prince of little influence, there was a certain advantage to being overlooked — it meant being spared the power struggles and factional warfare to come, and it suited someone like Zhou Sui’an, who had no gift for playing the game.
More importantly, she had decided to trust Situ Sheng once. If a chance to move came, she must not let it pass…
After Chu Linlang’s careful analysis, Zhou Sui’an’s mind settled with a sense of resolution.
It was said that a worthy man would give his life for one who truly understood him — whatever else could be said, the Sixth Imperial Prince, though a prince of little standing, was someone who recognized his worth and valued him.
Being before a prince was surely better than enduring the foul-smelling air of Zhang Xian and his kind here.
But… he looked at Chu Linlang and hesitated: “If I spend my whole life in Ji Prefecture dredging silt and repairing waterways, will you think me without ambition and that all those years of study by the cold window have been wasted?”
Since young Miss Hu the concubine had entered the household, Chu Linlang had been cool and detached with him, leaving him with an unsettled feeling.
Chu Linlang could see the rare vulnerability in him, and a sudden wave of sorrow rose in her own chest — yet she did not show it, only said slowly: “What I have never feared is hardship… Rest easy. Even if Ji Prefecture were a mountain of blades or a sea of fire, I would walk through it with you!”
Zhou Sui’an heard this, and could not help drawing his first wife tightly into his arms.
Young Miss Hu the concubine was young and tender, and her disposition was gentle and obliging. But however fine she might be, how could she compare to the bond of having weathered storms and hardship together with Madam Chu all these years?
Yet Chu Linlang caught a faint, somewhat sharp scent of rouge coming from him — the rose powder Hu the young concubine habitually wore, which Linlang had never liked. So under the pretense of helping Zhou Sui’an grind his ink, she let herself slide smoothly out from his arms.
With Chu Linlang’s reassuring analysis in hand, Zhou Sui’an weighed his words carefully, took up his brush, and wrote a letter in reply to the Sixth Imperial Prince, stating that his Highness’s regard filled him with reverence and gratitude.
A worthy man gives his life for one who recognizes him — and he was willing to accept the transfer to Ji Prefecture and do whatever small service he could.
When the transfer order came down, Zhang Xian was gleeful — he brought his brother-in-law and a group of colleagues to personally see Lord Zhou off.
Now that the winds of honesty and integrity blowing through Lianzhou had passed, and Lianzhou was still Prince Tai’s territory, Zhang Xian was no longer afraid of Zhou Sui’an looking into his brother-in-law’s business. The sharp sarcasm in his words was not concealed in the slightest.
The others chimed in as well, urging Zhou Sui’an to bring a few extra buckets of water with him — word was Ji Prefecture was always plagued by drought, and with Madam Chu being so delicately fair-skinned, she probably wouldn’t be able to have a proper bath more than a few times a year!
Had Chu Linlang not been in the carriage the whole time, twisting Zhou Sui’an’s arm, Lord Zhou would once again have launched himself out of the carriage to come to blows with Zhang Xian.
As the carriage left through the gates of Lianzhou, Zhou Sui’an wept openly — his eyes red, he pointed in the direction of the Lianzhou city gates and swore through choked sobs: “One day, I will make all of you vermin stare in disbelief!”
Meanwhile, Zhao Shi was sitting in another carriage, seething at Chu Linlang. She had learned from the Governor’s wife that there had been room to maneuver around this transfer, but Madam Chu had advised her son to accept it anyway.
All those women who were official wives in Lianzhou had shaken their heads and sighed, saying Lord Zhou was being a bit reckless. And only then did Zhao Shi learn that her son’s transfer had been influenced by Chu Linlang all along.
That wicked woman! Was she deliberately sabotaging Sui’an’s future to take revenge for the concubine she had arranged behind her back?
So for these past several days, Zhao Shi had cursed Chu Linlang no one knew how many times. But Chu Linlang was an expert at being a tough-skinned target — no matter how her mother-in-law soured her face and shouted curses, she simply pretended the wind was too loud to hear, and never talked back once.
After a time, even Zhao Shi grew too tired to curse anymore, and simply lay in the carriage weeping silently, barely speaking a word the whole day.
Young Miss Hu the concubine had been attending to Zhao Shi in her carriage the whole time, and would occasionally shift over to Chu Linlang’s carriage for a while to let her know how the mother-in-law was doing.
When Hu the young concubine reported that the mother-in-law had drunk a full bowl of chicken broth at noon, Chu Linlang felt relieved.
Such a good appetite, and not even motion-sick — she should be perfectly fine. By now they were almost at Ji Prefecture, and she could only wonder whether, on arriving, the Sixth Highness would have thought to arrange accommodations for them.
When Gui Niang carried over the remaining half clay pot of chicken broth and offered it to her, Chu Linlang shook her head: “You drink it.”
Hu Shi thanked the First Mistress. When she first entered the household, she had been very anxious — after all, Chu Linlang’s fearsome reputation was well-known, and she was said to be a tigress of the first order.
But once she actually got to know her, the First Mistress turned out to be a crisp, decisive sort of person, and the rules one had to observe in front of her were actually fewer than those in front of the Old Mistress Zhao Shi. Hu Shi had grown genuinely willing to spend more time in Chu Linlang’s carriage than to listen to Zhao Shi’s endless lamenting and complaining about everything.
Linlang had no desire to be a compliant and magnanimous wife. Though she had set her mind on being a capable head shopkeeper of her household, jealousy was something she would never be able to rid herself of for the rest of her life — which included being unable to ever truly become close and sisterly with young Miss Hu.
When she left Lianzhou, she had sold the tavern she had only just purchased at a favored price to the Governor’s wife’s paternal uncle — just to make sure that Zhang family stared helplessly and got not a scrap of advantage.
But this way, she had lost a considerable sum. When it came to calculating money, Chu Linlang was very much like her father Chu Huaisheng in this respect. Such an internal wound needed time to heal — she had no heart left to engage with Hu Shi’s flattery.
Yet young Miss Hu was a bit slow to read the atmosphere. She thought the First Mistress was easy to talk to, without noticing that the First Mistress had no inclination to talk at all. She went on and on about the amusing things concerning her seventh aunts and eighth aunts back in her village, until the noise was making Chu Linlang’s ears ring.
Taking advantage of the moment when they were waiting for the boat, Chu Linlang used the excuse of a full stomach and bloating from the meal, and took Xia He to walk briefly along the river canal beside the postal relay station, finally stealing herself a moment of peace and quiet.
Not far away was a crossing point, where boats coming and going were all taking advantage of the river’s thaw and the rising of spring water to carry goods and cargo to Ji Prefecture. In the dry season, the waterway would become impassable, and moving large cargo would be inconvenient.
The reason they had stopped here was to wait for the boat. All the belongings of the Zhou household had been shipped by river, and by her calculations, the boat should arrive today. Chu Linlang needed to see everything with her own eyes — count the items, watch them loaded onto the carts, and only then proceed together to Ji Prefecture.
By now the warmth of spring was slowly deepening. Chu Linlang simply sat down at a nearby tea stall, ordered a pot of floral tea, and ate the oil-fried sesame cakes she had brought herself.
She had just taken her first sip when she heard a loud splash, as though something had fallen into the water, followed by the sound of a woman’s furious shout from a boat that was coming in to dock: “Situ Sheng, you have gone too far!”
The moment Chu Linlang heard that name, the back of her neck went rigid — and the slightly dry sesame cake she had been chewing lodged itself right in her throat, leaving her completely stuck.
Xia He had not yet had time to react when a large hand reached over from beside her, picked up the teacup from the table, and passed it to Chu Linlang.