The portrait was completed as dusk fell.

Aside from Hua Bailin, the rest of the Hua Family members had only now learned that the eldest young lady possessed such refined painting skills — and painted with such remarkable likeness. Even the reputedly talented Hua Xin and Hua Ling had to admit they could not match her.

What Hua Zhi painted was not the Old Madam of the Hua Family as she had been in her final, silent days, but rather the Hua Family’s matriarch as she had been before the family’s fall — well-kept, richly dignified, with a face full of gentle kindness when she smiled.

In those days her cheeks had still been full, her face had not yet been carved with so many lines, her hair had not yet gone white, and her spirit had been as vibrant as Hua Zhi had captured it in the portrait.

The several old madams stared in a daze at the figure in the portrait, suppressing the urge to touch their own temples as their eyes reddened in unison.

Had they not been just as full of life in those days?

Hua Zhi gazed at the portrait quietly for a moment, then turned and left the room, coming to stand beneath the covered corridor.

How strange human feelings truly were. Though they had grown distant over so many years, though they had only leaned on one another for a short few months, it was enough to stir so much reluctance and so much grief within the heart.

“Zhi’er…”

Wu Shi followed her out, hesitated a moment, then gently patted her arm. “Don’t be sad.”

“I can’t make sense of it — how could Grandmother bear to leave? Such a large family, and Grandfather has not yet returned. How could she let herself be angered to death over something like that?”

Wu Shi stepped forward to stand at her side, watching the servants bustle about near and far. “Doctor Chu said that Mother’s health had never fully recovered to begin with. It was the sudden surge of anger rushing to her heart that caused this. Had Mother been given more time to regain her strength, it might not have come to this.”

There were no ifs in this world, Hua Zhi thought coldly. This debt she could only lay at Hua Jing’s feet.

Steward Xu lifted the hem of his robe and strode quickly in through the courtyard gate. “Eldest Young Lady, the monks from Dazhi Temple have arrived at the entrance of the lane. There are forty-nine of them in total.”

Even with Hua Zhi’s composure, she was momentarily stunned — to say nothing of Wu Shi, who let out a sharp cry of surprise. “Forty-nine? How can that be? Are they all masters from Dazhi Temple?”

“Yes.” Though he was the one who had gone to invite them, and had been pleased about it the entire way back, even now he could not help feeling a stir of excitement. “They are all great masters of Dazhi Temple. The one leading them is Master Prajña.”

“Go and make sure the front is prepared to receive them.” Hua Zhi turned and went back inside. “Bailin.”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

“Take the younger brothers to the front courtyard to receive the masters and escort them into the residence. Move quickly.”

“Yes.” Hua Bailin scooped up the youngest, Bai Jun, then urged the older ones to take the hands of the smaller ones, and they went out of the room half-walking, half-running.

Hua Zhi had to go as well. She looked toward Hua Xin and the others. “Stay alert, all of you, and keep the eternal flame well tended.”

Everyone nodded repeatedly.

Hua Zhi then bowed toward the three great-aunts by marriage. “The younger girls are small — I trouble the aunts to keep watch over them.”

“Don’t worry, we are here.”

Hua Zhi made every effort to walk as quickly as she could. The wound on her leg chafed and ached again, but she had no mind for it — she also had to walk as composedly as possible. The whole family was depending on her now; only if she held herself steady could everyone else hold steady.

A procession of forty-nine monks was not considered large for the capital. Powerful and noble households conducting a memorial rite would typically call for the auspicious number of ninety-nine.

Yet for the Hua Family as it stood now, managing to invite forty-nine was already far beyond anyone’s expectations — to say nothing of the fact that these were masters from Dazhi Temple itself.

Hearing the faint strains of Sanskrit chanting and the tapping of wooden fish drifting toward her, Hua Zhi’s footsteps paused for a moment before she continued on.

It seemed as though only now — listening to the chanting, breathing in the sandalwood incense drifting from the courtyard, seeing the mourning hall already fully erected — did the reality of her grandmother’s passing at last become real to her. The old woman who, even though she had once disapproved of the way Grandfather favored her, and even though Hua Zhi had never done anything to bring honor to Grandfather’s name, had nevertheless never short-changed her by so much as half a measure — that old woman was truly gone.

Outside the main gate, forty-nine monks tapped their wooden fish and chanted Sanskrit prayers without pause, advancing step by measured step in an unhurried, deeply rhythmic procession toward the entrance of the Hua Family residence — solemn and dignified. Even Hua Jing, whose mind was cluttered with countless thoughts and schemes, knelt prostrate on the ground and dared not make the slightest move out of turn.

Hua Bailin led his younger brothers in respectful prostration on the left side of the main gate. Hua Zhi knelt alone on the right side. She listened as the chanting drew near, listened as it passed over her and entered through the main gate, then rose and led her brothers to fall in behind.

This thick, undissipating atmosphere did not gradually ease until they had entered the mourning hall.

Inside, Steward Xu had already arranged the prayer cushions. Forty-eight monks settled themselves on both sides. The Sanskrit chanting, accompanied by the wooden fish, rose again.

Hua Zhi led her brothers to kneel before the mourning hall. She did not know whether this was the right thing to do — she only felt, instinctively, that it was.

Master Prajña opened his eyes, which had been gently lowered, and without so much as glancing at Hua Bailin, his gaze fell directly upon Hua Zhi. He gave her a slight nod.

Hua Zhi bowed deeply. She did not understand why Dazhi Temple would have sent so many — she could only attribute it to the Master himself.

The memorial rite was not long. Once the chanting came to a stop, Steward Xu led the servants to present vegetarian food and plain tea, then directed others to bring braziers into the mourning hall.

“There is no need for that.” Master Prajña declined in a gentle voice. “We who cultivate in seclusion can endure this degree of cold. Moreover, the Old Madam will soon be lying in state — too much warmth would not be beneficial to her remains.”

Steward Xu quickly gestured for the servants to remove the braziers.

“You may all rise as well. Dress warmly — you will be keeping vigil through the night. The transfer of the remains will take place at the third watch.”

The monks who had been eating their vegetarian food exchanged glances of quiet surprise. Master Prajña had taken a vow of silence and was known for speaking very little. Yet with this Hua Family, he was decidedly different.

Hua Zhi knew nothing of this, but she could faintly sense the Master’s goodwill. She bowed in thanks, then tried to stand — and found she could not rise. Her body had grown utterly exhausted.

“Elder Sister.” Hua Bailin, kneeling at her side, quickly stepped forward to support her.

Hua Zhi quietly pushed his hand away and steadied herself on her own, then gave his hand a reassuring pat. “Take the brothers to eat. Make sure everyone eats well.”

Hua Bailin’s mouth opened, but in the end he swallowed every word, along with every ounce of his concern, and led the brothers away. There was nothing he could say now that would not be superfluous. What he could do was take on as much as possible and let Elder Sister rest a little easier.

Master Prajña watched them, and when Hua Zhi glanced over, he beckoned to her.

Hua Zhi stepped forward a few paces, joined her palms together in a bow. “Master.”

“This old monk has heard the Elder Patron Hua speak of you. Seeing you today, I find it is just as he said.” Master Prajña spoke, then slipped the prayer beads from his wrist and extended them to her. “May they bring you health.”

“Many thanks, Master.” Hua Zhi received them with both hands and bowed deeply. At a time like this, even the smallest act of kindness would be engraved upon her heart.

“The Hua Family’s virtue and fortune run deep. The day will surely come when the tide turns in your favor.”

“Yes — this daughter believes the same.” If it did not come on its own, she would carve it out with her own hands.

Master Prajña nodded, then gently lowered his eyes once more. Hua Zhi offered another bow, then slipped the prayer beads onto her own wrist. Borrowing the Master’s auspicious words, she hoped she could remain in good health, free of illness and pain. She could not afford to fall ill.

Outside the mourning hall, Steward Xu stood waiting.

“How is Hua Jing?”

“Sitting in that lean-to. She cries out once whenever someone walks past.”

Hua Zhi’s expression cooled. “Have someone send her another quilt — the same kind as before, thick-looking but without real warmth. And charcoals as well. Make a point of sending it all with great fanfare.”

“Yes.”

Hua Zhi looked at the old man’s white hair showing at his bowed neck. Remembering that he and her grandfather were of the same age, she felt a pang of reluctance, and softened her tone. “If anything needs to be done, have Xu Jie handle it. Walk slowly — the snow makes the ground slippery. Don’t let yourself fall.”

Xu Dongjin’s eyes grew slightly red — moved, and grateful all at once. “This servant has waited upon the Old Master his whole life. At a time like this I only wish I could do more. Otherwise, this heart of mine truly cannot…”

Hua Zhi raised her head to look up at the dark night sky and said nothing more.

Author’s Note: Don’t lower your head — your tears will fall.