“Minglan, little fool, fetch me an orange — peeled,” said young Miss Rulan, sitting on the swing.
Minglan was daydreaming on a stone stool, gazing at the sky, and made no move. Rulan called out several more times; seeing that Minglan still did not respond, she casually picked up a small pebble and threw it at her. A sharp pain hit Minglan’s shoulder. She turned her head, wincing, to see young Miss Rulan grinning from ear to ear: “You little fool — go and peel me an orange right now!”
Minglan stared at her wordlessly for a moment, then slowly and unhurriedly made her way to the small side table nearby, picked up an orange, and was about to begin peeling it when a hand shot out from the side and stopped her — a soft and pretty hand, its ten nails tipped with faint red touch-me-not dye.
“Rulan! You’re bullying Sixth Sister again! Get down from that swing this instant!” Eldest Young Miss Hualan strode over in a fury, grabbed Rulan off the swing, and said, “What did Father say just the other day? Among the sisters, Sixth Sister is the youngest, and it is for us elder sisters to look out for her and care for her. And what do you do? You bully her from morning to night! Do you want me to go tell Father?”
“Who’s bullying her? I only asked her to peel an orange!” said young Miss Rulan, hands on her hips, little belly sticking out.
“Are all the servants dead, that the young mistress herself must peel an orange?! Or are the maids around you so especially precious that they can’t be put to use?!” Hualan’s beautiful wide eyes swept over the scene, and the four maids who had been standing to one side watching the whole thing with amusement all immediately dropped their gazes and shrank back in alarm. “You all watched Sixth Young Miss about to use her own hands, and not one of you moved to stop it?! What extremely capable maids you are — now you’ve taken to enjoying your own young mistress’s embarrassment, have you? Tomorrow I’ll report back to the master, and you can all go home and enjoy watching humiliations there to your hearts’ content!” Eldest Young Miss Hualan’s words came out sharp and cutting.
Rulan immediately lost her temper and rushed forward to grab her sister’s sleeve, shouting: “Eldest Sister, you are not allowed to punish my people! I’m going to tell Mother! You’re making trouble for your own blood sister over some fool born of a concubine!”
“Go ahead and tell! I’ve been wanting to go tell too! ‘Born of a concubine’ — what outrageous talk! Sixth Sister is our sister, full stop. And besides, Father brought her here to live under Mother’s roof, which makes her our own sister. If I hear you say ‘born of a concubine’ one more time in that disgraceful way, just watch Father take a switch to you!” Hualan jabbed her index finger hard at Rulan’s forehead.
Rulan puffed up with frustration, unable to form a rebuttal. Minglan kept her head down, playing dumb and saying nothing.
Though Hualan and Rulan were full sisters, they looked nothing alike. Hualan took after Sheng Hong — bright, vivid features, with a touch of spirited energy in her brow. Rulan took after Wang Shi — a round, flat face with regular features but rather ordinary looks; she might, when she grew up, perhaps develop a certain dignified bearing. The Creator had clearly not been fair to these two sisters born of the same parents: in looks, in talent, and in the degree of their parents’ affection, the younger sister was outmatched in every regard. Minglan could only hope that the imbalance in Rulan’s heart would not grow any deeper with time.
In truth, living under Wang Shi’s roof wasn’t so terribly difficult. Elder Sister Hualan and Elder Brother Changbai already had their own separate courtyards; little Younger Brother Changdong was still at the drooling-everywhere stage; the only person Minglan really had to navigate was young Miss Rulan. Rulan, at her core, wasn’t a bad person — she simply liked to throw her weight around and couldn’t get enough of being fawned over. She couldn’t touch her eldest sister or elder brother above her; the brother and sister from Lin Yiniang’s side were similarly out of reach; little Changdong was too young to be worth the bother. That left only the unfortunate Minglan to be bossed around at will.
Whenever things reached this point, Eldest Young Miss Hualan would descend from the heavens like the Great Sage himself to dispense justice. She did not necessarily like Minglan, but she could not abide Rulan being so insufferable. As the favored eldest daughter, her authority in the Sheng household was second only to the elders — reprimanding younger sisters, disciplining servants — she did it all with effortless command and endless justifications. Minglan was genuinely grateful for this beautiful, formidable eldest sister. She was a true daughter of heaven, wanting for nothing in looks, background, or force of character, and Minglan sincerely hoped she would remain forever this happy and proud.
These days, every morning, Minglan was carried by her matron along with Wang Shi and the others to pay respects to Sheng Lao. Before that, the various concubines of each household had already come to pay their respects to Wang Shi first. Lin Yiniang’s visits followed a remarkably consistent pattern — roughly two appearances out of every three days, the missing day attributed to some admirably versatile excuse: “not feeling well.” If Sheng Hong had spent the previous evening in her chambers, she would press a hand to her waist and claim exhaustion; if he hadn’t, she would press a hand to her chest and claim heartache. Every time Lin Yiniang came to pay her respects, Wang Shi had to spend half the visit mentally bracing herself to keep from flying into a rage and lunging across the room to scratch that movingly lovely face of Lin Yiniang’s to ribbons — a challenge to Wang Shi’s composure of the most extreme variety.
As for little Minglan — she was only five or six years old, had no doting birth mother, was young and slightly dim, and Wang Shi had no reason to go out of her way to mistreat her; naturally, she also made no particular effort to look after her. The arrangement was simply that Minglan shared meals and sleeping quarters with Rulan. But a careful observer could still spot the differences.
Every meal was laid out according to Rulan’s preferences; Minglan ate what was there and had no say in the dishes. Rulan’s clothes were all new; Minglan wore her cast-offs, though admittedly still in near-perfect condition. Any fresh fruit or pastry that came the household’s way went to Rulan first as a matter of course, with whatever remained going to Minglan. As for gold, silver, and jade ornaments — locks, chains, and the like — Minglan had never seen a single one. Still, whenever they went out, Wang Shi would at least put something around her neck and in her hair to make her presentable.
The career path Minglan had mapped out for herself was this: play dumb when playing dumb was called for; speak up when speaking up was called for. The fate of Miss Yingchun taught us that mere meek endurance was no guarantee of a peaceful life. A concubine-born daughter with nothing to fall back on — if she wouldn’t stand up for herself, who on earth would bother to stand up for her? Heaven helps those who help themselves.
The matron assigned to Minglan was a large, careless, easily annoyed woman who, when asked for one thing, tended to bring the wrong thing; if directed twice, she would sulk visibly. The little maids followed her lead, equally lazy and unreliable, and they frequently held what amounted to open discussions that Minglan was fully meant to overhear: “Back and forth, over and over, never a moment’s peace — it’ll be the death of us,” and “What’s she putting on airs for? Acting like some treasured young miss — she’s just a concubine’s get,” and “She ought to settle down and save us the bother of serving her” — that sort of thing.
Minglan said nothing and gave no sign of hearing any of it. She went on making her requests just as before. Since Sheng Hong had not yet fully relinquished his wariness of Wang Shi, he would look in on Minglan from time to time; on these occasions, Minglan would matter-of-factly report: “I was thirsty in the night and Nanny wouldn’t bring me any water… You gave me plum blossom dew last time? I never saw a drop… The pastries you sent? Nanny said her little grandson liked them, so she took them… Nanny says when she has a spare moment she’ll mend this tear in my jacket…”
Sheng Hong’s expression would immediately cloud over; Wang Shi would be no less uncomfortable. She had recently been fully occupied with preparations for Hualan’s coming-of-age ceremony and had no attention left to spare for Minglan. One outburst of displeasure was enough to have all the offending maids and matrons soundly reprimanded. At first they refused to take it to heart and kept finding small ways to make Minglan’s life difficult; Minglan ignored it and kept reporting. It only took twice before the servants all fell into line, and Minglan’s days became considerably easier.
Telling on people was, in truth, an art form — the same in a modern workplace as in the ancient Sheng household. A well-placed complaint could improve one’s circumstances; a poorly executed one could backfire entirely. The technique had its principles. First: choose the right person to report to. Minglan had known from the beginning that Wang Shi barely registered her existence — as long as she was alive and not causing trouble, that was sufficient. Sheng Hong, on the other hand, still remembered the kindnesses of Wei Yiniang and felt guilty about her having died so young; so Sheng Hong was Minglan’s reporting target. Second: be precise about what you’re reporting. Minglan only reported on the maids and matrons, never breathed a word against Wang Shi — and often mentioned things Wang Shi had supposedly given her, framing the servants as the culpable ones who had been lazy or dishonest. Wang Shi could listen without feeling implicated. Third — and most important: play dumb. From the moment Minglan had come back to herself, she had maintained a consistently blank and simple-minded manner: slow to respond, slow to speak, apparently without a calculating thought in her head. That artless, guileless appearance was, in the end, the safest one to wear.
Summer settled in gradually. The days grew blazingly hot, the heat scorching the skin. One afternoon, Minglan was napping inside when two small maids left on duty in the outer hall chatted idly back and forth.
“The eldest young miss’s coming-of-age ceremony was truly something grand — I heard they invited every lady of any standing in Dengzhou. Just the line of sedan chairs at the entrance filled two whole rows. And for fear the guests might overheat, they bought dozens of cartloads of ice to keep things cool, sending bowl after bowl of iced refreshments in an endless stream, and the master even came back specially to attend the ceremony,” said one of the maids, who looked to be a little over ten.
“They had a full set of hair ornaments specially commissioned from Cuibao Pavilion — Nanny says that’s the most prestigious jewellery house in the capital, and heaven only knows what it cost. And the skirt the eldest young miss wore — Nanny says the embroidery on it is the flowing-water style, so that every thread seemed to ripple when she moved. It was a gift from her maternal grandmother’s family. The eldest young miss truly has a blessed fate. Older Sister Mei, do you think our young miss in the future will…” said a round-faced girl of about seven or eight.
“Well, our young miss can hardly compare — the eldest young miss is legitimate-born…”
Minglan lay in the inner room listening to the maids’ conversation. These two had been assigned by Wang Shi to attend her personally — the older one was called Autumn Rain, the younger one Little Peach. The older one had previously been a second-tier maid in Wang Shi’s own chambers; the younger had just been promoted up from the household servants’ quarters, on the grounds that she was close in age to the Sixth Young Miss and the two would get along — at this thought, Minglan puffed out her cheeks with resigned helplessness.
In the course of reorganizing the Sheng household’s inner quarters, Sheng Hong had been eager to replace practically the entire servant staff. Apart from a few of Lin Yiniang’s trusted attendants, almost every second-tier sweeping maid had been turned over, with new ones selected from the household servants’ quarters to fill the gaps. The quick-witted and presentable ones had been distributed first to the elder young masters and misses; by the time it was Minglan’s turn, only this slightly dim Little Peach had been left.
But then again… that was perhaps for the best. Minglan shifted her small body on the reclining cushion, rolling over.
Minglan had not personally witnessed Sheng Hualan’s coming-of-age ceremony, but she could imagine the scene. She felt no particular envy or bitterness about it. Only, in those half-drowsy moments between sleeping and waking, she would think: now that was the kind of birth and background a transmigrated heroine should have been reborn into.
Once the coming-of-age ceremony was behind them, Wang Shi threw herself with boundless enthusiasm into the search for a suitable husband for her eldest daughter. She consulted with Sheng Hong and Sheng Lao at regular intervals, and whenever this happened, Hualan would retreat to her room with a face full of shy blushes. Minglan could only marvel: society had progressed so far in her own time. Back then, when her mother had held up photographs and explained the candidates for her to consider, Yao Yiyi had participated in the entire process from start to finish and had held absolute veto power and final say. But here — even someone as beloved as Sheng Hualan had no hand at all in the arrangements for her own marriage. For the first time, Minglan came face to face with what “the parents’ command and the matchmaker’s words” truly meant.
After a period of deliberation, Sheng Hong and his wife had narrowed the candidates down to two finalists: the fifth grandson of Duke Lingguo’s household, and the second son of Zhong’qin Earl’s household. Before the couple could reach a decision between them, however, the currently serving Prefect of Kaifeng, Lord Qiu Jing, arrived to propose a match on behalf of his son.
“Originally, Hua’er had only just come of age and there was no need to rush into choosing a husband — but now that Lord Qiu has come with a proposal, we can no longer afford to be leisurely about it. Either we accept the match with the Qiu family, or if we don’t, we had better have a clear reason,” Wang Shi said, seated at a dark wood bat-and-cloud-patterned table, several large crimson-and-gold invitation cards spread before her, the tassels of her dragon-and-phoenix gold hairpin swaying continuously.
“Qiu is a colleague from my examination cohort — our two families have known each other well for years. On the face of it, there would be nothing objectionable about forming this connection. But…” Sheng Hong held a sandalwood-ribbed folding fan and paced back and forth across the room.
“But what? Do tell me, quickly,” Wang Shi urged.
Sheng Hong sat down across from Wang Shi, picked up the white porcelain tea bowl with the raised pattern design and took a small sip, then said: “I have met young Master Qiu’s second son. His appearance and conduct are both a worthy match for Hua’er. And I’ve never been keen on seeing Hua’er married into a great ducal or princely household — those places are wealthy enough, but behind their walls everything is closed and constrained, and Hua’er is a proud spirit; married into such a place, she may not find happiness. Our family and the Qiu family are well-matched in status, so there would be no fear of Hua’er being mistreated. But during my recent visit to the capital, I saw something that concerned me.”
Wang Shi had been nodding along whenever Hualan’s difficulties with marrying into a noble house were mentioned; toward the end, she even picked up her round fan and was gently fanning Sheng Hong. He paused and lowered his voice: “The current Empress has no sons, so there is no question of a legitimate heir. Among the candidates next in line by seniority and status, we have the Prince born of Noble Consort Defei and the Fourth Prince born of his own mother — these are the two princes most likely to succeed. His Majesty has been slow to name an heir, but only because the Prince’s health is frail and he has, despite being past forty, yet to produce a son, while the Fourth Prince — who would clearly have a son to offer — was born slightly later by the clock. For now, while His Majesty’s own health remains robust, this standoff poses no great danger. But if one day the worst were to happen, those officials closely tied to the various princes might well find themselves in an extremely difficult position.”
Wang Shi was entirely ignorant of court affairs and asked with some bewilderment: “But what does any of this have to do with Hua’er’s marriage? Lord Qiu Jing is an official of the outer prefectures.”
“But Qiu Jing’s elder brother is the Prince’s classical studies tutor!” Sheng Hong said, growing visibly agitated. He genuinely wished he could speak to his wife with complete openness, but her thinking never quite kept pace with his. Lin Yiniang’s thinking, now — hers kept pace perfectly — but she was a concubine.
Wang Shi thought it over, and her expression suddenly shifted to one of alarm. “My lord, this is indeed most unwise. Regardless of whether His Majesty names the Prince as heir, so long as the Prince fails to produce a son, the throne will eventually pass to someone else. And from what I hear, the Fourth Prince is not a man to be trifled with.”
Seeing that his wife had finally grasped the point, Sheng Hong nodded, then sighed: “I have often warned Qiu Jing that officials like us from the outer prefectures ought to maintain only quiet, informal ties with those in the capital — under no circumstances should we get ourselves entangled in matters of succession. Look at all those dukes, marquises, earls, and barons in the capital — they are shrewd men; how many of them have involved themselves in this business? When the late Emperor ascended the throne, the succession was relatively smooth by the standards of these things — and yet even then, he stripped several short-sighted men of their titles and dismissed goodness knows how many top-ranking officials. And that is with those of us in positions like ours! I have advised Qiu Jing on this a number of times, but he cannot be moved. Instead, he and his elder brother have drawn even closer to the Prince. I know that the Prince is a man of kind heart and virtuous character — benevolent and filially devoted — and yet, and yet…”
“And yet he has no son!” Wang Shi supplied helpfully, finishing the sentence for him. “No son means no heir, and no matter how virtuous the Prince may be, it counts for nothing. Lord Qiu has let himself be blinded. Does he not understand that a succession struggle is no game to play lightly? I can see it plain as day — the Fourth Prince is the one who will end up on the throne.”
“That is not certain,” Sheng Hong said, pivoting sharply. “Lord Qiu and the Prince’s circle of advisors are not entirely without cunning — they know full well that if not for the succession problem, the Prince would have been named crown prince long since. So they have hit upon a scheme.”
“What scheme?” Wang Shi asked.
Sheng Hong lowered his voice further: “It is not precisely a secret — they have been quietly putting a number of officials up to making public arguments in favor of following the precedent of Emperor Yingzong of the Song dynasty.”
Wang Shi twisted her handkerchief, bristling with frustration: “My lord, please stop dropping classical allusions on me — I can barely read a basketful of characters; how would I know anything about an Emperor Yingzong and some Song dynasty precedent.”
Sheng Hong gave a restrained click of his tongue and explained with long-suffering patience: “What it means is this: if the Prince were to ascend the throne and still produce no heir after everything, a son would be adopted for him from among his brothers. His Majesty’s sons are not limited to just these two princes — the younger princes below them all have sons of their own, and all of them are technically His Majesty’s grandsons regardless.”
Wang Shi clapped her hands with a smile: “That is rather a clever plan! Those younger princes have mothers of undistinguished origins, and His Majesty has never paid them much attention — the throne was never within their reach. To have one of their sons adopted as heir would be perfectly tidy. But… can it actually work? Would the Fourth Prince agree to it?”
“That is the whole problem. The officials who have been loudly advocating for this adoption plan have already become thorns in the Fourth Prince’s side — he may think nothing of it on most days, but one always has to consider the worst. If the Fourth Prince is the one who ultimately ascends the throne, then the Qiu family…” Sheng Hong didn’t finish the sentence, but Wang Shi understood him perfectly.
“It is all a gamble. If they win, the Qiu family rises to glory; if they lose, the Qiu family collapses entirely. But why gamble at all? The Qiu family already has wealth and honor to last a lifetime,” Sheng Hong lamented.
“My lord — we cannot agree to any marriage with the Qiu family. They may be willing to stake their future on this, but we cannot stake Hua’er on it along with them. If things go wrong, the whole family could be dragged down with them.” Wang Shi’s thoughts had suddenly sharpened to perfect clarity. She drew another sash from her waist — this one a deep crimson embroidered with sunflower blossoms — and dabbed carefully at her temples. Then she lifted her head and changed course: “You are, on the whole, a decent and even-handed man in your official dealings, and you have always made a point of maintaining good relations. Surely there is not a single suitable family among all your acquaintances to consider for this marriage?”
“It is not that there is no one,” Sheng Hong said. “Back in Quanzhou, I had already gone through all my friends from the same examination year and cohort, one by one, and none of them would do.”
“Not a single one?” Wang Shi asked, puzzled.
“Do you remember what you yourself said about choosing a son-in-law?” Sheng Hong gave her a look and then, mimicking Wang Shi’s own voice and cadence, recited back: “Must have a good family background, a solid financial foundation, a simple household with few members, agreeable in-laws and sisters-in-law who are easy to manage — and above all, the young man himself must be capable: either distinguished in his studies with official honours, or able in business with established assets, or holding a military rank or hereditary title. Most of my acquaintances are scholars. Those from my examination year who have risen to high office are few; those with both a fine official reputation and a high position tend to have modest family means; and those with solid means have generally had their marriages arranged for them long ago by their elders. Now, Magistrate Liu of the Court of Judicial Review would be a good match — but his legitimate son is still young. Perhaps in a few years that boy could be considered for Rulan. Ah — !” He sighed.
Wang Shi’s expression grew somewhat awkward, and she gave a slightly sheepish laugh: “My lord need not worry — there are other families to consider, surely. I think Duke Lingguo’s household looks very promising. They follow the reduced-rank inheritance system, true, but it has only been the third generation since their founding ancestor received his title. As for Zhong’qin Earl’s household — they follow the same-rank inheritance system, but their family’s standing with His Majesty has fallen badly; he is quite displeased with them, so they are best avoided. Duke Lingguo’s is good — the house is magnificent and flourishing, full of prestige and vitality.”
“…I would not be so certain about that,” Sheng Hong said, slowly opening his folding fan and fanning himself at a leisurely pace. “When I was a boy, I followed the old master and the Elder to live in the capital, and I attended the family school at Duke Lingguo’s household together with my cousin Elder Brother Wei. I saw quite enough of that family for my liking. The surface is impressive; the inside is rotten and foul. The family school itself was a sordid place — my cousin and I stuck it out for barely half a year before we left. This time when I went to the capital on business, I heard that Duke Lingguo’s household has become even more of a disgrace. The household teems with people; from top to bottom, masters and servants alike, everyone lounging about in the luxury of accumulated wealth. Their young masters are no older than Changbai, and each one already has more than twenty women — wives, concubines, and maids combined — waiting on him. The prodigality and licentiousness are boundless in that house — great and small alike spending recklessly, far more going out than coming in; the reserves have long since been hollowed out. I had only barely let it slip to Elder Geng that Hua’er’s coming-of-age ceremony was approaching, and they were at my door almost immediately, hinting strongly at a desire to form a match.”
Wang Shi was startled: “You mean to say they have their eye on Hua’er’s dowry?”
“It would not surprise me. And it is not as though they have never helped themselves to a daughter-in-law’s dowry before — it has happened more than once,” Sheng Hong said, with unconcealed contempt.
Wang Shi said uncertainly: “But it is still a ducal household, after all. A family of such grand display and renown — it would not be within their reach to consider Hua’er if they were not in some difficulty now.”
Sheng Hong laughed coldly: “If it were merely a matter of being short of money, I would not feel so strongly. But the grandsons of that household are truly hopeless — in that great sprawling family, there is not one person given to scholarship, or military valor, or to any capacity for planning and management. The old Duke and his wife are decent enough themselves, but their sons beneath them — hmph! The eldest branch is sunk in debauchery and excess. As for the father there — there are rumors of the most degrading impropriety under his own roof. The second branch — ah, the second branch is the one that came to propose the match — their patriarch is well into his years and still hasn’t stopped taking new concubines. He’s worked through virtually every maid and serving woman in his own quarters, and when I was in the capital I heard that he even took one of his daughter-in-law’s personal attendants to his bed. A truly disgraceful creature — the very worst of his kind and a complete disgrace to the name of the educated class!”
Wang Shi’s expression was by now one of absolute horror: “So that is why a great ducal household was coming to knock on the door of a mere sixth-rank prefect! I suppose every family with any self-respect in the capital must have already refused to send their daughters there.”
“Exactly right this time,” Sheng Hong said.
“Then it certainly can’t be Zhong’qin Earl’s household either — the Yuan family’s gate is cold and bare these days,” Wang Shi said indignantly.
“That is not quite the case,” said Sheng Hong, suddenly warming with interest and speaking eagerly. “This time I made a point of paying a visit to Zhong’qin Earl’s household and meeting several of the old Earl’s sons. The legitimate eldest son is already betrothed to the daughter of Imperial College Libationer Zhang — I had a look at him, and he struck me as excellent: steady, correct in his conduct, dignified and imposing, and young as he is, he has already secured a post at the Five Districts Military Command. I also made a special trip to ask Commander Dou for his assessment of this young man’s abilities and character. Now you know what that old Dou of the west is like — proud and contemptuous by nature, sparing of his praise — and yet even he gave Yuan Shao a thorough and wholehearted commendation. He also sighed and said that the boy, dragged down by his family’s circumstances, finds that families of any decent standing in officialdom are reluctant to form connections with them, while families beneath a certain level are ones the Yuan family themselves won’t consider; so this perfectly outstanding young man has been left unmarried nearly to the age of twenty. I suppose I let it show in front of old Dou that I had some interest in the matter, because the very next day, the Yuan family had already sent someone to present the case.”
Wang Shi maintained a stubborn expression: “But you yourself said — that families of any decent standing in officialdom are reluctant to form connections with them. They have neither influence nor money right now; why should we be the ones to rush forward?”
“What nonsense!” Sheng Hong said, turning her earlier words right back on her. “If the family were not in difficulty at present, Hua’er would never even be in the running. Theirs is also a case of bad luck — during the late Emperor’s reign, they were unfortunately caught up in the Prince of Yi’s conspiracy and rebellion, and along with several other noble families they had their titles stripped. They scraped by in reduced circumstances for a few years, and then when the current Emperor ascended the throne and declared a general amnesty, a review of old cases revealed that several of the noble households, including Zhong’qin Earl’s, had genuinely been caught up in it by association rather than by intent. Four or five of those families had their status restored as a result, and the Yuan family was among them — but there was still a formal censure for conduct unbefitting their station, and their stipend of silver and rice was docked for a full ten years, during which time they were left out in the cold.”
“If my lord can explain all of this so fluently, why are you still considering a connection to this family?” Wang Shi said with a pout.
“What do you understand about any of this?” Sheng Hong finally grew animated and spoke with keen enthusiasm. “Young men who grow up in titled noble households — the sons of dukes, marquises, earls, barons — tend to be useless and incompetent almost to a man. Because their ancestors have given them a hereditary advantage, they stop thinking about studying, stop thinking about martial training, stop striving for anything at all. By the second generation they have already begun to deteriorate. But the Yuan family has been through hardship — and so their grandson is more capable and clear-headed than the average, because those who have experienced adversity know how hard it is to build something lasting. I have a favorable impression of Yuan Shao.”
Wang Shi was still displeased, and turned her head away without speaking. Sheng Hong walked over and laid a hand gently on her shoulder, speaking softly: “Hua’er is our firstborn daughter. How could I ever shortchange her? I remember when I was still only a lowly acting official, newly posted to that bleak and desolate place — Hua’er came into the world and we could not even find a decent wet nurse for her. I was reading and studying for my examinations while simultaneously managing my duties; you were running the household while also attending to me and the Elder. Hua’er as an infant was so gentle and good — she never cried or made any fuss, and once she was a little older she was already helping you with the household. If I am to say what is truly in my heart: of all my daughters, the one I love most is Hua’er.”
Wang Shi’s eyes grew red as she remembered those years of hardship, and Sheng Hong’s voice took on a slight tremor: “Even then, I told myself: I may let others down, but I will not let Hua’er down. I have no ambition to use Hua’er to climb to great heights. I only want her to marry a man of real character — a husband and wife who are in harmony, who keep each other company, who raise children together and live a steady, tranquil life.”
His words were earnest and full of a father’s devotion. Wang Shi could hold herself back no longer; the tears came. She quickly lowered her head to wipe them, and Sheng Hong continued: “Whatever else may be said of the Yuan family, they still have a title to protect them. If his career in office does not go smoothly, there is at least an earldom to fall back on. And if Yuan Shao proves himself capable, then glory and wealth will await Hua’er all the same.”
Wang Shi had long since been won over; still dabbing her eyes with the corner of her handkerchief, she said with a half-scolding tone: “Hmph — here you are making a struggling wretch sound like a thing of beauty. My lord sees further than I do in these matters. Let me first make more enquiries about Yuan Shao’s character. He is already twenty — I wonder how many women he keeps in his rooms. If there are any troublesome brazen ones, I won’t stand for it. My Hua’er is not marrying into a life of suffering.”
“Yes, yes, all right — as Mother wishes,” Sheng Hong said warmly, drawing her into his arms. “If that boy is fond of chasing women and pleasure-seeking, I’ll be the first to refuse. We will think on this carefully and thoroughly, and find Hua’er the very finest husband there is.”
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Author’s Note:
Marriage alliances in ancient official households were a serious and meticulous matter, with families often investigating three generations back. Official families themselves were divided into those with inherited wealth and those without, those in their first generation and those of long lineage. Good parents would be very careful indeed in choosing partners for their sons and daughters.
The standard formula was: legitimate daughter for legitimate son, concubine-born son was acceptable, but concubine-born daughters need not apply.