The young mentor’s words were most considerate and heartening. If the red imprint of a slap on his face had faded a little more, it might have seemed even more convincing.

Hearing Situ Sheng ask which time, Chu Linlang could hardly say it was the time she had mocked and implied that Magistrate Situ had a shameful secret ailment. She could only laugh awkwardly: “That’s a relief, then. I always tell people — Magistrate Situ is clearly a man of great magnanimity at first sight. He would never quibble and bicker with a small woman like me.”

This time, Situ Sheng looked at Chu Linlang’s face full of fawning flattery and said, lowering his gaze: “Madam flatters me. I am not a child — I can tell which of Madam’s words are true, and which are not…”

This creature truly did hold a grudge — he had delivered right back, word for word, her earlier quip about him being a child who was picky about food.

Words spoken carelessly could always come back to bite. Chu Linlang did not want trouble. She decided to quit while she was ahead, no more buttering anyone up. She gave an awkward laugh and, scissors in hand, took her leave.

Zhou Sui’an ate this meal with great spirits and a sense of triumph.

After the ladies had finished adorning themselves with flowers, Magistrate Zhou entertained everyone after the meal by playing the qin for them, performing refined compositions.

The Sixth Prince was affable and easy-going, treating him like a close companion. The Sixth Princess Consort also praised his poetic learning and musical talent again and again.

Only Second Miss Xie, who never gave Situ Sheng a warm look, was something of a dampener. After being scolded by her elder sister in the greenhouse, she seemed to have grown weary of everything in the world.

After listening to one piece on the qin from Magistrate Zhou, Xie Youran carelessly and icily remarked that compared to the renowned musicians of the capital, this level of playing was rather far from good — Magistrate Zhou should practice a bit more before performing for others.

Zhou Sui’an was inwardly resentful at this, but he remembered well enough the lessons in social conduct Chu Linlang had impressed upon him, and held back from arguing with that Second Miss Xie on the spot.

All in all, apart from this one not-entirely-pleasant small episode, the Zhou household’s family banquet was a great success.

Zhou Sui’an’s elation at being recognized as a gem in the rough had carried all the way through until the banquet broke up.

At the table, beyond the idle chat, there was inevitably talk of official careers and prospects. It was said that the Emperor had suddenly struck, arresting half the closest associates of Prince Tai, their uncle. The Ministry of War had been swept clean and many of the Emperor’s own trusted men installed. The Emperor, having reigned for over twenty years, had accumulated his strength and finally gained the upper hand in the power struggle with his uncle.

As for the Fourth Prince, who had been supported by Prince Tai, he too had been caught up in the fallout. His favored imperial consort mother had been demoted into the cold palace by the Emperor — and though the crime did not extend to the prince himself, his glory days were over.

The once formidable Fourth Prince, who had been able to stand equally against the Crown Prince and had earned military merit, could now only keep a low profile, tucking in his tail and lying low.

Situ Sheng had not joined in these discussions. For most of the time, he sat quietly listening. Occasionally his gaze would drift to Madam Chu, seated diagonally across from him, and both of them would instinctively shift their eyes away…

In the days that followed, things continued quietly. Situ Sheng had already settled his official business, and on top of that could not bear Second Miss Xie’s provocations. After lingering in Jizhou for a few days, he said his farewells and departed.

The day he left, Chu Linlang felt a faint, light gladness in her heart, feeling she could at last let out a quiet sigh of relief.

But as Situ Sheng boarded the ship and passed by her, he seemed to glance at her deliberately, and said lightly: “My thanks for Madam’s hospitality. If we have the fortune to meet again in the future, I shall host a return banquet in the capital…”

Chu Linlang heard this and gave an inward snort of contempt. What kind of banquet? A banquet of traps?

Besides, a place like the capital — she would never go there in her lifetime. And as for this person, it would be best if they never met again — to forget one another like fish in separate rivers, not interfering with each other — that would be ideal!

As if he could read the contempt hidden in her eyes, Situ Sheng said no more. He strode in a single leap onto the boarding plank, and then, with his white robe lifting in the breeze, he stood at the prow of the boat and cupped his hands in farewell to the assembled group.

With Magistrate Situ seen off, Jizhou’s daily life seemed to go on unchanged. Zhou Sui’an’s affairs gradually grew busier, and he was out from dawn to dusk, nowhere to be found.

A month later, the capital sent an imperial edict from the Emperor. The Sixth Prince, who had served as a shield for his imperial father and rendered distinguished service, was to be rewarded — once the Jizhou river channel was completed, he could make his way back to the capital.

When Liu Ling returned, he would naturally bring along those capable subordinates who suited him.

So at the residence’s banquet, in an atmosphere of joy and ease, the Sixth Prince smiled and asked Zhou Sui’an — who had been playing the qin for him — whether he would be willing to go back with him.

Zhou Sui’an understood the Prince’s hint and immediately bowed in delighted surprise, expressing that a soldier would die for the one who truly knew him — the Sixth Prince was his discerning patron, and he would follow him with his whole life.

Chu Linlang was also nearby and heard it all clearly, but watching Zhou Sui’an’s radiant, open display of joy and eagerness, she felt that this particular promotion… had come far too fast.

How complex and dangerous the court in the capital was — the sudden catastrophe that had swept through Lianzhou was evidence enough of that.

For someone as inherently guileless as Zhou Sui’an, going to the capital was not necessarily a good thing.

After the banquet, Chu Linlang also expressed her concerns to Zhou Sui’an. She felt that life in Jizhou was good, and if possible, she would rather not go to the capital.

But Zhou Sui’an looked at her with mild reproach: “You are always the one pushing me to strive forward — why are you losing heart now, so early on? The Sixth Prince is not even in contention for the throne — just a refined, leisurely prince. What risk could there be in backing such a prince?”

In short, Zhou Sui’an felt that being able to rely on the Sixth Prince was something his own abilities had earned him, and that if he did not seize such an opportunity, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Most decisions in his life had been made by his parents, and once he married, Chu Linlang had made decisions for him. Now that he had been given great responsibility by the Sixth Prince, Zhou Sui’an felt as though his wisdom had been awakened, and he grew more and more confident in himself.

A matter as significant as one’s career — that was not something a woman’s short-sighted view should decide!

After the Jizhou water management work was underway, the court’s official appointment letter was formally delivered.

The Sixth Prince had worked diligently and conscientiously on governing Jizhou’s water system, failing not the Emperor’s great mandate. The Emperor was greatly pleased, and enfeoffed Liu Ling as Prince An, to assist with government affairs in the Ministry of Finance.

And Zhou Sui’an, recommended by the Sixth Prince, also entered the Ministry of Finance as a sixth-rank Bureau Director of Finance.

But word had it that Situ Sheng — also a sixth-rank official in the capital — had grown weary of the tedious affairs at the Ministry of Personnel, and had submitted a request to the Emperor to return to the Hanlin Academy for a quiet life of scholarship.

His request for reassignment was rejected by the Emperor. Instead, he was promoted in one step — from a lowly clerk at the Ministry of Personnel to the position of Senior Vice Director of the Court of Judicial Review at the fifth rank, assisting the director in hearing and deciding criminal cases.

Though the rank had only gone up by one level, the position of Senior Vice Director was no decorative post. Officials who had been seasoned in this position, if still young in years, would find advancement in future easy and unbounded — the prospects limitless.

This left Zhou Sui’an — who had originally been riding high at the news of entering the capital — feeling somewhat aggrieved.

He had been a local deputy magistrate, and had cooperated with the Sixth Prince in governing Jizhou’s water affairs.

Yet upon entering the capital, he had only gone from a former auxiliary sixth-rank to a true sixth-rank, and in the Ministry of Finance he was nothing but a clerk running errands for the deputy ministers.

And what had Situ Sheng done? Nothing but keep the Sixth Prince company on his travels, and copy out a few case documents at the Ministry of Personnel — yet somehow he had entered the Court of Judicial Review.

Not only was his rank higher, but he held real power, commanding a group of people and becoming a Senior Vice Director capable of reviewing major cases and investigating officials at various levels.

This made Zhou Sui’an, who had always considered himself on par with Situ Sheng, deeply unsatisfied.

Chu Linlang, directing the maids in packing boxes for the move to the capital, soothed Zhou Sui’an: “Why must you always compare yourself to others? If you must compare, compare yourself against your own past. Within a single year you have been reassigned twice, and each time to a place better than Lianzhou — what a stroke of fortune that is? You are unhappy, and yet you are burrowing into a corner of discontent. That is simply not knowing when you have it good!”

Zhou Sui’an had by now savored the delight of rising swiftly through the ranks.

To become a capital official, one had to have connections reaching all the way to the heavens. Half a year ago, he would not have dared to dream he would be reassigned to the capital, and into the Ministry of Finance at that.

Thinking of it this way, he felt more at ease. He was already counted among the Sixth Prince’s inner circle. He was no longer drifting like a rootless weed. The road ahead was still long — once he entered the capital, he would make his mark there too.

With this thought, he was in better spirits and sat at his desk with a flourish, settling in to play the qin.

Ever since that banquet, when someone had mocked his playing as coarse and vulgar, Zhou Sui’an had picked up the neglected pastime again, and whenever he had a spare moment, he would be plinking and plonking away without stop.

Chu Linlang was directing the maids to tidy things up, and finding Zhou Sui’an sitting there in the way, she had him go to the study and keep an eye on the manservants to make sure they packed all his documents and did not leave any behind.

Zhou Sui’an rose reluctantly and sauntered toward the study, all the while tapping his fingers in idle rhythm, thoroughly pleased with himself.

The Sixth Prince had received an urgent imperial summons on some matter and had left first on a fast boat for the capital.

But the Xie family’s grandmother and Second Miss Xie were in no hurry to leave and planned to travel back to the capital by boat together with the Sixth Princess Consort.

Because the Ministry of Finance needed to do its mid-year accounts of tax revenues and had urgently called for new staff, Zhou Sui’an also needed to enter the capital early, and conveniently boarded the Xie family’s fast boat. He would set off tomorrow.

Chu Linlang felt it would be too much of an imposition to have the whole Zhou household — old and young together — crowd onto someone else’s boat. So they split into two groups: she, along with the household’s luggage, belongings, and family members, would follow on a slower boat a little later.

Zhao Shi had originally intended for Zhou Sui’an to bring the little concubine Hu Shi along with him, but Zhou Sui’an had long since grown tired of his mother forcing his hand. He was only too glad to set out alone before dawn, taking only his manservant Manfu and two trunks of luggage, and boarded the boat for the capital.

When Zhao Shi heard that Zhou Sui’an had set off just like that — alone — she was greatly displeased and suspected Chu Linlang had sabotaged things and urged her son to leave early. She made pointed, barbed remarks, coldly reproaching her daughter-in-law for not letting them travel together.

Chu Linlang felt it was time to settle accounts with her mother-in-law. Otherwise everyone would think the household was living carefree and easy days.

Though Zhou Sui’an’s successive reassignments were good news, every move cost silver. Even with the relocation allowance, it was a token gesture, barely a drop in the bucket.

Back then she had rushed to sell the newly acquired tavern in Lianzhou at a loss, and the household’s daily food and clothing had to be carefully calculated and watched.

So this time she was sorry to inconvenience her mother-in-law, but they could only split the journey in two groups, and could not afford the costly fast boat to travel together with the young master.

There was one more item of accounts Chu Linlang had not yet mentioned: the expenditure of bringing Hu Shi into the household as a concubine.

Zhao Shi had concealed this from Linlang at the time, secretly diverting even the tuition fees set aside for Yuan’er’s schooling the following year to cover the cost.

For this reason, Chu Linlang — who had never raised her voice against her mother-in-law — was genuinely unhappy.

Once Chu Linlang had laid out these accounts on the abacus, the volume of Zhao Shi’s scolding dropped noticeably of its own accord.