The man had deep-set features and eyes as dark as the night. He stood there in perfect stillness, a few shadows cast by crabapple leaves falling slantwise across his face, half-concealing it in a blur. He wore a long robe of black silk interwoven with dark gold patterns, its edges slightly worn and frayed.

Minglan’s upper body was already turning to leave, but her legs were rooted stubbornly in place. At last she dipped into a curtsy, smiling ruefully. “I wish Second Cousin-Uncle well. How have you been keeping?”

Gu Tingye clasped his hands behind his back and walked toward her unhurriedly. His eyes were dark and unfathomable as he narrowed them at Minglan, and no one could tell what he was thinking. The silence pressed down uncomfortably. Minglan kept her head low, aware only that the pearl-petal ornaments at her temples were trembling ever so slightly.

After a moment, Gu Tingye spoke briefly: “It has been a year since my father passed.”

Minglan’s reflexes were sharp, and she replied immediately: “Second Cousin-Uncle, please accept my condolences.”

Gu Tingye suppressed the twitch at the corner of his mouth. He hesitated, then added, “The eldest daughter of the Yu family — has she married well?”

Minglan raised her head abruptly. She saw that his expression was calm and his tone carried a faint note of apology. She couldn’t make sense of it. Seeing her look of utter bewilderment, Gu Tingye’s lips curved slightly. “I have always held Elder Yu in high regard. What happened… was not what I wished.”

Minglan began to understand, more or less. Gu Tingye had likely waited here deliberately for her. Elder Yu had spent a lifetime as an upright and honorable official, yet in his final years, both his granddaughters had been ruined by dealings with the Gu family — one sent far away to Yunnan, the other dead within half a year. Though it was Elder Yu’s own greed that had led to it, the man standing before her now, the one chiefly responsible, probably felt at least a measure of guilt.

Minglan considered for a moment, then said, “Yunnan is far, and over the past year and more I have only received one letter from Elder Yu Sister. She has married well. Her in-laws are kind, and her husband is gentle and steady. Though Yunnan’s customs are not yet fully cultivated, the skies are vast and the waters long, the scenery breathtaking. Elder Yu Sister is doing very well.”

She had told Yan Ran as much in her letters, too — that the moment Gu Tingye had left home, his wife had fallen ill; he had rushed back in a panic, only to arrive in time for her funeral. Scarcely had the mourning rites concluded when his own father also passed. The calamities had come in rapid succession. After that, there had been almost no news of Gu Tingye from the capital.

Occasional rumors trickled through — that he had “fallen from grace,” that he was now running with a rough crowd from the jianghu world, drinking and gambling and growing ever more dissolute, apparently making quite a name for himself in those circles. Such “achievements,” however, were hardly the sort that could be spoken of in polite society among officials and nobility.

Hearing this, Gu Tingye seemed to breathe a quiet sigh of relief. He straightened his tall, well-built frame and said warmly, “If she encounters any difficulty, please let me know. Gu is not talented in many things, but in this I would do my utmost to help.”

Minglan barely managed to keep from staring. She gave some vague response, but the look she cast Gu Tingye now held a glimmer of genuine astonishment. She glanced up at the sun overhead — had it risen from the west today?

Gu Tingye carried himself with easy self-possession, as though entirely unconcerned by Minglan’s puzzled, uncertain expression. He smiled. “You are Minglan, are you not? By extension, you share a connection with the Qi family.” Minglan nodded vigorously. Whatever she might have been thinking inwardly, her expression was one of complete sincerity.

Gu Tingye continued, his manner amiable: “On our previous two encounters, Gu committed several offenses. Please do not hold them against me. Man… it was Gu’s own failure to see people clearly.”

Minglan could not help glancing up at the sun again — what on earth had happened to him?! She had met Gu Tingye exactly twice before. The first time, he had come to lay blame; the second, he had watched on as though enjoying the spectacle. Both times, Minglan had fled in disarray. She remembered vividly his sharp, bristling hostility — every word a cold sneer, every sentence edged with malice. She hadn’t even gotten through a few exchanges without wanting to slap him across the mouth.

And yet now… Minglan stole a glance at his handsome profile. His thick, dark sideburns carried a faint trace of weathering; the fair complexion of a nobleman’s son had been bronzed to a light tan by the winds of the jianghu. His brow bore a look of worldly hardship, as though this past year had not been easy. Yet his expression was open and his words sincere; he carried himself with a certain upright ease, as though he had suddenly transformed into “a man of proper character.”

Gu Tingye was quiet for a moment, then said in a low, steady voice: “If you ever find yourself in a difficult or urgent situation, you may also speak to me. I may perhaps be of some assistance.”

A young lady sheltered in the inner quarters, with a father and brothers above her and a family behind her — what urgent difficulty could she possibly face? Though she had heard he was out mixing with the jianghu world… surely he wasn’t suggesting that if Minglan’s future husband strayed, he’d find some thugs to throw him in a sack and beat him? And with the Ningyuan Marquis Mansion itself in such a precarious state, he still dared to act so bold and brash — very well. He had spirit. Minglan laughed a few hollow laughs and gave no reply.

Perhaps he had read her thoughts. Gu Tingye offered a faint smile and said lightly, “Liang Han is a loyal and genuine person, though rather fond of admiring his own charms. The Qi household has many people and many complications, but Junzhu is fiercely protective of her own — Qi Heng is gentle and kind-hearted. With them looking out for you, you won’t fare badly.”

Minglan inhaled sharply, her eyes going wide. She stumbled over her words: “You — “

Gu Tingye stepped close, looking down at her from above. His manner was calm and authoritative. “As a young girl, you ought to listen more to your elders at home, and not act on your own whims.”

With that, the man turned and walked away with long, unhurried strides, stirring a cluster of crabapple branches into swaying. Minglan stood rooted to the spot for a long while, pressing a hand to the cold sweat on her forehead: was he running a private detective agency out in the jianghu?

Despite such an encounter, Minglan was composed enough to continue on to the banquet. Molan was busy playing the part of a refined young lady — sipping her wine in prim little mouthfuls and exchanging pleasantries with the well-born young women to her left and right. Rulan and Ying, seizing a moment when no one was looking, somehow managed to polish off an entire jug of maiden’s red wine between them. In the end, Wang Shi sat in the carriage with an iron-gray face, watching her daughter climb in with both cheeks flushed scarlet. Molan wore a look of thinly veiled contempt: “That explosive temper of hers — she managed to suppress it for a whole morning, and now it’s finally leaked out. So much for thinking a wayward wave can turn back to shore.”

Minglan, for once, found herself agreeing with Molan. Speaking as someone who had worked in the legal profession, she was a dedicated skeptic of the “wayward wave turns back” theory, and had often been criticized by her senior judge for having insufficient ideological awareness and lacking the party member’s fervor to reform and cure the wayward. No wonder she had never been voted an outstanding worker.

Besides, it had nothing to do with her. Minglan let her mind go loose and stopped thinking about it.

Without Grandmother nearby to keep her company, Minglan found her days exceedingly dull. Before, she would write two characters and hurry to Grandmother to show off her work; embroider two petals and leaves, and go prancing in front of Nanny Fang to display it. Now… Sigh. Could it be that having played the part of a child for so long, she had genuinely lost her self-discipline? Was she now incapable of continuing to study without encouragement and supervision?

So, with nothing better to do, she took to visiting Hai Shi’s rooms to keep the little nephew entertained. The tiny creature, his little lotus-root arms tied into his sleeves with crimson strings, waved them about with great effort. Quan Ge’er had a gentle temperament — he loved to smile and never fussed. The slightest bit of coaxing would send him into a fit of toothless laughter, eyes completely disappearing into his chubby cheeks.

Wang Shi kept murmuring prayers to Amituofo in gratitude that her grandson had not inherited her son’s stony face. Her incense had not been burned in vain. Hai Shi, completely content, smiled cheerfully from morning to night. Her color had grown so rosy and radiant after her confinement that she looked even lovelier than she had on her wedding day.

“Why does he keep blowing bubbles?” Minglan poked her jade-white index finger at the nth bubble forming at the infant’s mouth.

Hai Shi laughed. “All babies do that. Sometimes they spit up milk too.”

Minglan cradled the soft little bundle in her arms and was suddenly struck by a thought. “Has Elder Brother ever held Quan Ge’er?”

Hai Shi covered her mouth and laughed softly. “Him? He held the baby twice — like Zhang Fei trying to hold a brush. Grandmother saw and laughed at him a bit, and he immediately put on a stern face and recited some sage’s teaching about how grandfathers don’t hold babies.”

Minglan gently rocked the bundle and gazed down at the infant inside — his tiny mouth rosy-red, his little face soft and squishy, eyes closed as he slept deeply. She was completely smitten, counting the baby’s long, long eyelashes one by one.

“Young Miss, let me take him — the little one is asleep; you’ll tire yourself out.” A plump, fair-cheeked wet nurse smiled from nearby. Knowing her own arms had limited endurance, Minglan carefully passed the child over.

The room was stuffy, with little airflow, so the windows stayed largely closed. Hai Shi reclined on a rattan-woven soft couch, reached out, and drew Minglan down to sit beside her. She fanned Minglan gently with a white silk palace fan. “Our little Quan Ge’er is so fortunate — every one of his aunties is more thoughtful and tender-hearted than the last.”

Outside, the bamboo curtain rustled open. Yanghao came in carrying a plate of fruits that had been chilled in well water, and set it on the small table before the couch. Minglan noticed the small white porcelain dish decorated with iris patterns held an array of colorful fresh fruits, each speared with a silver toothpick, glistening and fragrant — a very pretty sight.

“My lady, Young Miss — please help yourselves.” Yanghao tidied up neatly with quick, practiced hands, then bowed and withdrew.

Minglan watched Yanghao leave, then turned back to Hai Shi with words half-formed on her lips: “She… isn’t she going to be sent away?”

Hai Shi speared a slice of apple and popped it into Minglan’s mouth, then replied with a self-deprecating air, “In a household like ours, it wouldn’t look right if Elder Brother had no one by his side. It would only give people cause to say that the Hai family produces jealous wives. There was even someone at a banquet recently offering to give Elder Brother a concubine. Fortunately, with Yanghao there, Elder Brother had good reason to decline.”

Minglan chewed with puffed cheeks and said indistinctly, “I loathe people who go around gifting concubines to others! What’s wrong with gold, silver, jewelry, property, or shops — can’t any of those express collegial goodwill? No, they have to send concubines. How utterly tedious! Anyone who does that is certainly no decent official!”

Hai Shi laughed and gave Minglan a mock-scowling look, shaking her head. “Don’t talk such nonsense.” She noticed that Minglan’s honey-colored garment with its auspicious pattern had gotten a little wrinkled, and smoothed it out for her, then added: “Yanghao is an honest girl; she knows the proper rules of conduct. I’ll let her stay.”

Minglan swallowed her apple and glanced sidelong at the even-tempered Hai Shi. She thought: what mattered most was that Yanghao was plain-looking, not particularly clever or agile, and Changbai came to this room barely once a month — she posed virtually no threat. If that weren’t the case, why had Hai Shi’s very first act after entering the household been to send away the two maids nicknamed “Mouse Whisker” and “Pig Bristle”?

“Ah — Sister-in-Law has a favor to ask.” Something had just occurred to Hai Shi. She took Minglan’s little hand. “That sachet you made for Quan Ge’er last time was wonderful. What was inside? The smell was so clean and fresh, and it kept bugs away when hung on him.”

Minglan tried to recall, counting off on her fingers. “Dried osmanthus blossoms, osmanthus oil, sun-dried mugwort…” She couldn’t remember the rest — it had been a herbal formula given to her by He Hong, written out on a slip of paper, harmless to children and pleasant in scent.

Hai Shi wasn’t really after the secret recipe — she got straight to the point: “Make another one for me. Last time my cousin came to visit and saw it, she was terribly taken with it. If you have time, dear, make four.”

Minglan stretched her neck and stared. “Four?! Do you think they grow like cabbages, dozens to a row in a single patch?! I haven’t even finished the one Elder Sister asked for yet. And a sachet may be a small thing, but it’s one thing to make it, quite another to make it well.”

Hai Shi put on a look of mock-indignation, tapping her sharp index finger on Minglan’s forehead, and laughed. “You little wretch! Every time I get good tea or nice things, haven’t I always set plenty aside for you? There’s a saying: the mouth that’s eaten someone’s food grows soft — since you’ve eaten mine, you ought to do me a service!”

Minglan stared at her for a long moment, then deflated with a sigh. “Sister-in-Law, you call in debts awfully fast — sharper than a moneylender charging interest.”

Hai Shi hid her laughter behind her fan, evidently quite pleased with herself, and pressed on with another demand: “I also want that embroidery design again — the one with a little cricket riding on the back of a big cicada, with a small mountain stone beside it. It was such an amusing and charming little picture.”

Minglan looked at her with a peculiar expression. “Everyone… really likes that?”

Hai Shi nodded. “Yes, it’s fresh and different from the usual — and the symbolism is wonderful.”

“What symbolism?” Minglan was puzzled.

“You silly thing — ‘knowing what’s proper’!” Hai Shi reached over and tapped Minglan on the head again.

Minglan suddenly understood. So that was it. She had thought it was simply that the potential audience for the great director Li’s work extended across all ages, ancient and modern alike.