Since An’er was born, blink and a hundred days had passed, and yet it was already the twelfth lunar month again.

Chen Dasheng still hadn’t come home, but he had started sending things back — foreign spices, jewelry, wool blankets, and various household items Chen Dasheng was preparing for his son.

Qiqian’er, too, was seeing piles of gemstones for the first time.

From the looks of it, he was doing well out at the border town, and wouldn’t be able to come back anytime soon — if things went smoothly, the earliest would be next June.

Father never mentioned what Chen Dasheng was doing now, and Qiqian’er didn’t ask either. A’Nai, though, began to fret, muttering a few complaints, until those people started sending things home — once she knew he was fine, she stopped bringing it up.

Just half a month ago, an old maidservant quietly told Qiqian’er that the Old Madam had gotten hold of some foreign gold cakes from somewhere, melted them down, and had five large gold bracelets made, which she’d hidden away.

Nowhere else — in that kang cabinet of hers.

This year the estate had no income to speak of, the land lying fallow, but the first batch of fruit trees planted on the estate had done well, yielding several hundred catties of fruit. Don’t underestimate those few hundred catties — for a first fruiting, that was already excellent.

Qiqian’er turned this batch of fruit into preserves, and once the weather turned cold, it drew crowds of children to the house.

As for having children, the Guard Escort Lane had first bloomed with daughters for three years running, until Xie Liuhao brought Xie Ximu home, and then the lane started clustering with sons instead.

Starting from the Chen Dasheng household, one after another — the Tong Jintai family, the Cui Erdian family, the Chen Dayi family, the Chen Dayong family — each added a son.

They were all young, vigorous couples living here, and it seemed like every few days there was some occasion — a third-day celebration, the fifteen-day mark, a full-month feast, hanging lanterns to pray for blessings. Give it another fifteen or sixteen years, and the marrying off of daughters and taking of daughters-in-law would come in clusters too.

On the first day of the twelfth month, She Qingling held a ceremony at home with his daughter-in-law, hanging a lantern in the ancestral hall for his eldest grandson. This lantern would be lit at the start of the first month and stay burning until the Lantern Festival on the fifteenth, not to be taken down until An’er came of age.

However many sons a family had, that’s how many lanterns they had to hang.

“This year’s not bad — at least our house has a few lanterns to show for it, not like last year, when Guo Yang came over looking for good candles, and I could tell something was off in her eyes. Tsk, as if she’s the only one with a grandson? Like the rest of us have stopped having children. Qian’er? What do you think Dingxiang’s going to have this month?”

The Old Madam, holding a cut patch, spoke while sewing it onto her grandson’s little padded jacket.

When old folks talk, naturally they jump from one thing to another.

Qiqian’er, also holding a small cloak, turned it over, looking for an inconspicuous spot to sew a patch on. “Even if she has ten girls, would Cui You dare bully her over it?”

The Old Madam looked up and rolled her eyes at her. “Still, you can’t let people bully her. If the men in the family aren’t well-off, then no one outside looks up to you either. All you sisters-in-law need to keep an eye on things — look how you’ve all spoiled her into a little tyrant. She’s confined for her month, and instead of resting she’s off at her mother’s family every day eating and drinking off them — it’s just not proper…”

In the old woman’s mind, however much you ate or wore was all fated by heaven, and a person shouldn’t have things too perfect. An’er was fortunate — good grandparents, good parents, never wanting for food or drink — she just worried this child wouldn’t be kept, that heaven would take him back.

Later it was Qiqian’er who came up with a solution — she had Uncle Xin find beggars over sixty years old and traded new clothes for the rags off their backs.

For a beggar to live past sixty was already a great age, so there weren’t many such garments to be had, mostly stripped right off Uncle Xin himself. She’d wash the clothes clean at home, then cut them into small cloth patches and sew them onto An’er’s jacket, so it would look as though he wore beggar’s clothes every day.

That way, Heaven would look more kindly on the child.

Mother and daughter were chatting away happily when a maid announced that Sixth Master had arrived.

Who was Sixth Master? Chen Dasheng counted as Fourth, Chang Lianfang was Fifth, and Xie Liuhao happened to be Sixth.

This was a matter of the family having set up an incense altar — the Old Madam had formally acknowledged him as a grandson, different from those like Lao Dao. Even the Chen family’s unofficial grandsons were the ones Chen Dayi and Chen Dayong themselves had acknowledged as younger brothers.

Lao Dao could only ever be Chen Dasheng’s own brother, no one else’s.

Xie Liuhao came in wearing his official robes, Xie Ximu bundled up in layer after layer in his arms.

The Old Madam grew anxious the moment she saw him, taking the child and scolding as she did: “What family lets their child catch a chill? Back in October you already had him bundled up like this — oh, poor thing… come, come to Grandma, my little Gennu, suffering so with your young father…”

Xie Ximu’s childhood name was Gennu.

Though he was a child from outside the family, his arrival in Guard Escort Lane had carried something almost miraculous about it — the very first day he came, he’d drawn An’er’s birth along with him, and ever since then the lane had started producing sons one after another. Because of that, there was no one who didn’t dote on him, never mind that he was a child without father or mother of his own.

The Old Madam’s hands moved quickly, and in a few strokes she’d stripped the layers off the child — and sure enough, his little head was soaked in sweat.

Xie Liuhao was used to being scolded, and just grinned sheepishly. “I brought him over for you to keep a few days. I’m busy at the office, probably won’t be able to come back for a while.”

Qiqian’er looked up at him. “What about Zhou Wujiu?”

Xie Liuhao gave a bitter smile. “We lost two enforcement officers this time, so the Chief Commander pulled quite a few people over there. Who knows if he’ll be able to come back.”

He was young to have been made a branch commander, and everything was new to him, so it was only natural he’d be flustered at times. Before, having Zhou Wujiu to help had made things easier, but the two of them were nominally disciples of Uncle Xin, meaning they’d never lack for intelligence no matter where they went — Xie Liuhao and Meng Dichen didn’t dare touch that, so Zhou Wujiu had been transferred away.

Qiqian’er didn’t want Xie Liuhao dragged into the Jiu Si Tang’s affairs in Yandu, so she told him, “Have Uncle Xin ask for someone. Tell them you can’t spare the manpower — why are you the one stuck mixed up in Yandu all the time anyway.”

Whenever Chen Dasheng sent letters back to the capital, he always asked how Xie Liuhao was doing, how Gennu’er was doing. After all, wasn’t Xie Wu — Xie Liuhao’s father — a Jiu Si Tang man? Oh, but once someone’s dead, does the tea go cold too?

Not once had anyone seen the stewards of Jiu Si Tang send anything this way — not so much as a single coin.

Besides, Father had said as much himself — that Meng Dichen of Jiu Si Tang was a man with ambitions of his own, better to keep some distance.

Xie Liuhao gave a foolish, good-natured smile, glanced at Gennu already rolling around on the kang, then bowed respectfully to A’Nai and his sister-in-law before hurrying off.

Once Xie Liuhao had gone, the Old Madam turned to Qiqian’er. “Such a grown young man, why do you concern yourself with his official business? From now on, while I’m around, don’t you bring it up in front of me, understand?”

Qiqian’er said with a placating smile, “But you’ve mentioned it plenty yourself, haven’t you? It’s just that your eldest grandson isn’t home…”

“Can you compare yourself to me? Who am I, who are you…”

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Just then, Gennu’er, now free to roam, chimed in from the side. The child was nearly two and couldn’t say much yet — the word he used most was “no” — everything was “no,” even calling for Qiqian’er came out as “no, no.”

Qiqian’er craned her neck to look — he was lying against the kang cabinet, mumbling “no, no, no,” his little hand reaching up toward the top.

The Old Madam laughed, and worried he might prick himself, quickly put away her sewing basket and crawled over to Gennu, laughing and scolding, “This little rascal’s sharp as anything, how does he know everything already? Still saying no, no — but you know this is where your mother keeps the sweets, don’t you… oh, let me get my great-grandson a preserved fruit to sweeten his mouth…”

She picked out a piece of preserved fruit and broke off a bit for Gennu’er to gnaw on.

Gennu let an inch of drool pool in his mouth.

Whatever it was about the water and soil of Guard Escort Lane, this child had turned plump and fair within just a few months of arriving — and once a child turned plump and fair, that made him, in the old women’s eyes, the best kind of child there was.

These days he called Qiqian’er “Mother” and Chen Dasheng “Father”; as for the “unofficial” part of it, the Chen family didn’t allow anyone to mention it — he was to be raised exactly as if he were their own.

Qiqian’er drew the child into her arms, pulled off his cloth socks, and lifted his little feet to check between the toes — sure enough, there it was, black grime evenly packed into every little crevice.

Gennu, thinking his mother was playing with him, giggled as his ticklish little feet squirmed, more inch-long drool dripping down.

Qiqian’er held the little foot up right in front of the Old Madam’s face and said, “Smell that — I don’t know where he gets his confidence, thinking he can raise a child well like this. Keep raising him like this and by spring you could plant a bean in there and grow eight rows of bean sprouts…”

The Old Madam bent down with a look of utter disgust and sniffed, then burst out laughing. “Ooh, sour!” Then she pressed her forehead against Gennu’er’s and said, “Tomorrow when your mother cooks, she’ll season the food with your stinky little feet… how about that?”

Whenever Xie Liuhao’s boy was home, he absolutely wouldn’t let anyone else hold his elder brother’s child.

A child who is loved is always lively, and Gennu’er’s giggling woke An’er, who’d been sleeping nearby.

“No, no, no, no…”

The moment his little brother started crying, the “elder brother” grew anxious, pointing at the little wooden cradle over there and rattling off a string of “no”s, as if to alert everyone that they’d better go pick him up — the baby over there was crying.

Qiqian’er quickly scooped the baby up. This chubby child had an impatient temper — once he woke, he wanted food right away, crying as though he hadn’t eaten in a lifetime.

Qiqian’er hurriedly opened her robe to nurse him; he nursed and cried at the same time. After about a serving and a half, Qiqian’er felt a warmth spreading against her belly, and reaching down, sure enough, found it was wet.

The Old Madam looked on, thoroughly satisfied. “Ah, once you’ve had one you know how to raise them, and once raised, they grow — different every single day. Here I was thinking I’d have to watch over you myself forever, but hah, you’re doing better than any of the others. In this whole lane, when it comes to raising children, you’re the best and sturdiest at it.”

An’er, now able to hear sounds, and having had his fill, paused after a couple more mouthfuls to look at his great-grandmother.

When he stopped nursing, his great-grandmother grew anxious, saying to him with a coaxing smile, “What are you looking at me for? Such a little thing worrying about so much — hurry and eat, don’t leave even a mouthful for your mother, or you’ll just be doing your brother a favor…”

Gennu wasn’t interested in that at all, just stuck out his little hand — no, no, no, no…

Qiqian’er smiled without a word, stroking the soft fuzz on the baby’s head with her free hand, utterly tender.

And her An’er, nursing away, kept his eyes fixed on his mother the whole time, not blinking once.

Watching mother and son so close, the Old Madam felt a warmth in her heart — outwardly she treated them all the same, but in her heart she knew well enough that no one could surpass An’er in her affections.

Once the baby had had his fill, a maidservant brought in a basin of water steeped with a few peppercorns.

Qiqian’er kept her children clean — whichever diaper change it was, An’er always got a quick wash.

As she cleaned the baby’s bottom, Gennu’er picked up his own little foot, sniffed it, then leaned over and stuck his foot out toward Qiqian’er too, looking at her pleadingly and rattling off another string of no-no’s.

The Old Madam laughed until she nearly lost her breath. “Can’t leave anyone out, can we — go on and wash his too, don’t be his mother for nothing.”

And so grandmother and granddaughter-in-law sat there, one tending to the elder child’s feet, the other to the younger one’s bottom, in perfect domestic harmony — until outside, a pack of children came running in as if for their lives, trailed by a great crowd of servants.

They’d come running wild from Chang Lianfang’s garden.

Xique led Lanting Ge’er at the very front, with Dazhong, Dayi, Dayong, Tong Jintai, Second Miss Ma, the eldest daughter of the Meng Wanquan family, and a few other children whose families no one could place.

Chen Dayong’s daughter, little Heiniu, wore a fine little satin jacket, already thoroughly disheveled and tousled, a stick clutched in her hand.

The moment this girl came through the door she started banging the stick on the ground. The Old Madam, braced against the edge of the kang, snatched the stick right out of her hand and turned to scold the servant behind her.

That servant ran off so fast she practically trailed smoke, as if ascending to immortality.

“Is this the young lady of a proper household? This is how a street beggar behaves! Even beggars don’t act like this! And — and where in the world did this stick come from?”

“Reporting to the Old Madam, this servant… this servant really doesn’t know, I just bent down to catch my breath and the young miss already had it in her hand…”

Worried about startling the two little ones, Qiqian’er quickly shielded them, while the Old Madam, with no other choice, had to stand up on the kang, reach up to the top of the cabinet, and take down a box, doling out sweets and preserved fruits to this pack of hungry little devils one by one.

This crowd of troublemakers had no other purpose in coming to this room — it was all for that box on their aunt’s kang cabinet. The treats in it were always full, no matter when they came there was something to eat, and if they wanted it, they got it.

As for that box — years later, however grown these children became, whenever they thought back to their old home, the first image in their minds would be this lane, and the second would be the box on their aunt’s kang cabinet.

For the children of their own lane, the Old Madam was glad to give — but as for those other scruffy, unfamiliar-looking ones, whose families were they from?

Well… at most, half a piece each. Not a bite more.

Her partiality wasn’t even subtle about it.

Once the children had their treats, they went tearing back outside in a rush, and the Old Madam leaned out the window calling after them: “Stay close together now, don’t let anyone get hurt! Where are you all even going? Looks like snow’s coming, it’s already this cold, don’t go eating in the wind, you’ll upset your stomachs…”

Having called out, she still wasn’t at ease. Nimble as a rabbit despite her years, she scrambled down off the kang in a couple of quick movements, no one needing to help her, slipped on her shoes, and dashed out after the whole crowd, scolding all the way: “The lot of you are supposed to be young masters and misses from respectable families, why can’t any of you use your heads? What family raises children like this — even country folk wouldn’t do it this way — snow’s coming and you let this pack of wild things run around outside…”

She wasn’t even looking for the children — she was going door to door scolding their parents instead.

Ever since laying eyes on her great-grandson, this old woman had turned positively youthful again.

When no one else was around, she’d mutter to Qiqian’er that next year she meant to buy up a bit of wasteland, just for her great-grandson.

Once the Old Madam had run off, Qiqian’er finally lifted An’er upright against her shoulder, patting his back, and asked the maids, “Odd, today of all days — Father usually has someone posted at the gate by now, right when the children are out playing. How is it no one’s come?”

At this, the wife of Jixiang came in from outside, waved the other maids away, and once it was safe, said quietly to Qiqian’er, “Madam, the Old Master’s been summoned into the palace. They called for him before dawn.”

Qiqian’er’s forehead tightened, and she stared at Jixiang’s wife. “Now? It’s already the twelfth month.”

Jixiang’s wife nodded. “Yes, it’s the twelfth month, and it’s turned cold. This year’s especially cold, and it’s hard on the elderly. Our Old Madam was just recently granted the fourth-rank ceremonial cape, and it still needs a few more stitches — that’s why I was told to have the sewing room work only on the Old Madam’s new one.

Madam, we can’t afford to be short on our Old Madam’s ceremonial attire of any kind — the fine pieces and the plain ones both need to be ready. The fine one’s manageable, but I worry that if something comes up suddenly, the plain round-collar robe won’t be ready in time and that would be improper. So I’ve had them rushing it these past few days, in case it’s needed on short notice — otherwise our Old Madam would have to wear an old one…”

Something was off in Jixiang’s wife’s expression, and Qiqian’er understood at once.

Clever people don’t need to spell things out. She sat in silence for a long while, then finally gave orders for someone to bring the earrings that matched the Old Madam’s ceremonial rank.

Jixiang’s wife went off to fetch them, and soon returned with a tray of earrings. Qiqian’er’s eyes swept over the more than twenty pairs, then she chose a pair of plain silver earrings of an odd design, pointing to the silver pin behind the earpost. “Go straight to the silversmith at Qingfeng’s and have them cast in iron, exactly to this style — ten sets. And the hook at the back needs to be made into a long hook.”

Jixiang’s wife nodded, took the plain silver earpost, and left. Qiqian’er then had someone load half a cart of preserved vegetables into the city to her godmother’s place, saying she wasn’t feeling quite well and asking if her godmother could come by.

Madame Chai arrived that evening and hurried in anxiously. “What’s wrong, where don’t you feel well? Honestly, child, with a whole household of people to help you, you insist on nursing this baby yourself — one of these days you’ll ruin your back, and you’ll regret it when you’re old!”

An’er, as it happened, had only slept a short while and had woken again — not that it mattered, she went straight in and sniffed and kissed him several times, praising his weight lavishly.

Once she’d finished fussing over An’er, Madame Chai took Gennu into her arms and kissed him too; Gennu wouldn’t warm to her, so she pinched his forehead in mock disgust.

Qiqian’er sent the servants away, then grabbed her hand and said, “Godmother, Little Flower hasn’t come home these past few days.”

Madame Chai’s face went pale, and Qiqian’er quickly added, “Don’t panic, it’s got nothing to do with him — it’s that my father was also called into the palace this morning.”

Madame Chai’s eyes flickered as she let out a sigh, and she understood at once.

Qiqian’er went on, “I was thinking… this year we might be able to spare a few of us. My case is manageable enough, since my rank isn’t high enough yet. But in Guard Escort Lane, the Old Madam is the only one past fourth rank, so she’ll certainly have to go. And counting from my father’s side, she’s his sworn kin by adoption — close enough in standing on that side that even if there were old grudges, no one could find fault with her for it. As for me, having just passed my hundred days, that’s excuse enough. But the Old Madam going alone? That truly leaves me uneasy.”

Madame Chai’s expression grew distant, and for a long while she said nothing, somewhere between laughing and crying.

Qiqian’er didn’t press her, just took the meat porridge a servant brought in and fed Gennu spoonful by spoonful.

“That person’s whole life, you know, never once bowed to anyone — always lived exactly by her own heart. The world says that for a woman to be considered to have lived well, you must first speak of children and grandchildren filling the halls. But as for her — forget children and grandchildren filling the halls, she stood alone against the wind of heaven and earth, right up to now. Ah — she’s not even that old, really. There must be a mountain living in that heart of hers, younger by a few years than our own Old Madam even…”

Qiqian’er smiled, then called a servant to take Gennu’er out to play in the west room and settle his stomach.

Once he’d gone, she took up the tray and picked out one of the earrings with the long hook, saying to her godmother, “As for the rest, I’m not worried. It’s just that with our own Old Madam — you know how she is. These days she’s only just started going out to sit with others again, but this time it’s three days running. You don’t know this, but our Old Madam, from all those years of hardship in the past, developed quite the peculiar habit…”

Madame Chai, who’d already been feeling low, looked up in surprise at that. “A habit? Well, if the Old Madam’s not well, just report her as ill.”

Qiqian’er shook her head, troubled, and said hesitantly to Madame Chai, “Godmother, there’s no reporting it — there’s no escaping this one for Guard Escort Lane. A’Nai’s condition isn’t really an illness, it’s just that back when she was a refugee, she developed this… skill, being bounced three feet in the air on a broken donkey cart and still snoring away when she landed.

Our Old Madam’s snoring is loud enough to shake the heavens — sometimes you can hear it from out in the street. She can fall asleep standing, sitting, anywhere — the moment her eyes close she starts talking in her sleep too, and it’s always about those days on the road fleeing — one moment ‘run,’ the next ‘climb up,’ the next ‘leave me some’…”

This little account was enough to make the already-melancholy Madame Chai burst out laughing.

Madame Chai laughed for a good while, wiping her eyes, then pointed at the earring in Qiqian’er’s hand. “Your A’Nai really is a capable one — sleeping well in old age is a blessing built up over lifetimes. Where did you even learn about this trick? Did you have one made for your A’Nai already?”

For court ladies attending such ceremonies, there were always these little tricks of etiquette — to maintain proper bearing, adjustments had to be made to the accessories, like the waist-chains for measured steps, or these hooked earrings.

At imperial funeral rites, gold and silver naturally couldn’t be worn, so the earring hooks were made double-length out of iron, with a sharp point curving back an inch behind the ear — meant to keep attendants from dozing off while keeping vigil for the deceased.

At any large official gathering too, this kind of hook had to be worn, and once worn, one couldn’t even glance side to side.

With this design, the moment your head dropped low enough, that sharp point would give you a jolt right into the flesh.

Qiqian’er held out her hand. “I had ten sets made. I was thinking your godson’s prospects won’t stop at fourth rank forever, so I figured I’d prepare a few extra. In our Guard Escort Lane, I don’t think any of us fall short of the others in this regard, don’t you agree?”

Seeing her adoptive daughter looking so proud and pleased with herself, Madame Chai’s heart warmed, and she reached out to pinch the plump cheek Qiqian’er had gained from her confinement month. “Ah, why aren’t you my own daughter! Fine, I’ll take care of the Old Madam myself — even if I don’t sleep a wink, I’ll watch over her.”

Reassured by Madame Chai’s promise, Qiqian’er finally let out a breath of relief. “Have you met her before?”

Madame Chai nodded. “Of course, I know her well — a fine old lady. Back in our Shao Shang days, was there a single court lady’s family who hadn’t received her help at some point? I won’t hide it from you — once, when our Little Flower was injured, with pursuers close behind and the troops marching hard, the Old Empress Dowager had him placed in her own carriage — the old lady sat upright for three days straight so he could rest…”

Glancing carefully around, Madame Chai leaned close to Qiqian’er’s ear and said, “Most of the old ministers are loyal to her, not to the other one — Second Empress Dowager clung on with the tenacity of vines wrapped round a tree, choked herself trying, but as long as the Old Empress Dowager sat there for even a day, the Second Empress Dowager wouldn’t dare go back.”

Qiqian’er admired women like that more than anyone, and sighed in praise. “If one could live even a little like her, then one hasn’t lived in vain.”

Madame Chai shook her head ruefully. “A pity, though — her own family let her down, same as the Tan family. For most people, their natal family is a support to lean on, but hers, every so often, they’d stir up some trouble instead. However much good will there’d been in the past, it couldn’t withstand being cut away piece by piece, starting from your father’s generation on — sooner or later there’d be nothing left but a bare skeleton. My dear, you have no idea — even the Zheng family wasn’t like this to begin with, how did they turn into this the moment wealth and status came their way…”

Deep within the Daliang palace, Empress Dowager Zheng, wasted to nothing but skin over bone, used the last of her strength to grip Emperor Wu, Yang Zao, by the hand, pointing at Zheng Amaan kneeling on the ground, then at Princess Yang Lingyao, the Emperor’s eldest daughter. “A— A’Man… marry, marry the princess!”

Zheng Amaan’s face went ashen, and he lifted his head in disbelief, just about to say something when the man behind him — his own father — pressed his head down and forced him to kowtow at once…

That year, Zheng Amaan was twenty-two years old, and Princess Yang Lingyao was eleven.