The Hua Family passed a plain and simple New Year.

Plain food, plain offerings, plain clothes — and in terms of status, plain people as well.

Fu Dong presided as head chef for the New Year’s Eve dinner. She brought the kitchen’s full staff of several dozen people to begin preparations as early as the twenty-eighth, and for days on end the fragrance of cooking never ceased. Every so often small snacks would emerge from the kitchen, sent back with the servants and errand boys who had been dispatched to lend a hand, so that none of them returned empty-handed.

Of those who ran the most frequent errands, naturally, Shao Yao led the pack.

On yet another trip into the kitchen, Liu Juan laughed until her cheeks flushed red, thrusting a portion of freshly fried meatballs into Shao Yao’s hands. “Sister Fu Dong said that whatever comes out of the kitchen, she’ll have someone bring a portion over to you. You don’t need to keep running over yourself!”

Shao Yao let out a silly laugh, her mouth still dotted with crumbs from the pastries she’d been eating earlier — the picture of cheerful foolishness.

By now she no longer needed to wear her veil inside the Hua Family’s residence. At first some of the servants had not dared to look directly at her face, but after seeing her enough times — always hungry, always trailing after the eldest young miss — no one could quite manage to be frightened of her anymore.

Hua Zhi paid her no particular attention, letting her do as she pleased. As long as she had no thoughts of venturing outside, that was all that mattered.

In her room, Ying Chun checked the water clock once more and gently reminded her: “Miss, it is time to go.”

“Mm.” Hua Zhi murmured her assent, but the brush in her hand did not slow.

Ying Chun stifled a quiet sigh, her heart aching in a way that defied expression. She had said she would rest until the fifteenth — and here she was, after only two days, pen back in hand.

After quite some time, Hua Zhi finally set down her brush. She studied what she had written, brow creasing slightly. Was this making too much of too little? But if she did not do this, she would be entirely at another’s mercy.

She was already so far behind others to begin with, and her position was far too precarious to withstand any assault. If she did not devise some means of self-preservation, then even if the borders remained at peace, the princes — given their temperaments — would never allow the Hua Family to live in quiet ease.

“Miss, everyone should have arrived by now.”

“Let us go.”

Three tables had been set up in the side hall of the Hua Family’s main courtyard. When Hua Zhi arrived, all the seats were filled save for the head position.

The seating had not been arranged as it once was — divided by gender, age, and generation — but rather, as Hua Zhi had instructed, by family unit. Everyone found this a little novel, yet felt it quite right. Was a family banquet not meant for a family to gather together as one? Who could be more dear than one’s own children?

Bailin’s eyes kept straying toward the food. He asked his mother in a hushed voice, “Mother, why has Elder Sister not come yet?”

Wu Shi shifted the hand warmer in her arms, her voice soft and gentle. “Your elder sister is very busy. She will come when she is done.”

“Elder Sister is busy every single day.”

“Yes. She is. Once you grow up and are able to help her, she will not need to be so busy.”

“I know. Sixth Brother said that if we all become very capable, we will be able to help Elder Sister.”

The voice of a child — yet the words it carried made those who heard them feel a swelling of pride shot through with heartache.

Hua Zhi was still dressed all in plain white. She entered the hall with her hands tucked into her sleeves around a hand warmer, and every person seated rose to their feet — including the Auntie Grandmothers, who outranked her by two full generations.

This was how one treated the head of the household. Hua Zhi might not have cared about such things, but they could not take advantage of their seniority.

“Please, please sit.” Hua Zhi quickly shed her cloak and set down the hand warmer, turning to offer a bow to the elders. “I have kept everyone waiting. Forgive me for being late.”

No explanation was given, but the Hua Family understood. Hua Bailin had already told everyone that his elder sister had been occupied.

Settling into the seat beside her mother, Hua Zhi swept her gaze across the room. Every face was turned toward her. What she saw there was simple joy, and reliance, and gratitude, and contentment — but no fear or uncertainty. That was the greatest praise she could have received for all the months she had spent managing this household.

In the span of barely half a year, the family had plummeted from being among the capital’s most distinguished, home to two Hanlin Academy scholars, to having their estate stripped away and facing exile. Hard on the heels of that blow had come the passing of the Old Matriarch — the family’s cornerstone, its anchor in the storm. Under the weight of this double devastation, the Hua Family had not crumbled as outsiders had predicted. Their spirits remained strong, their eyes undimmed by despair for the future. The Hua Family still had promise.

Hua Zhi raised her cup. “To the Hua Family.”

The children’s cups held sweetened water; the adults’, sweet rice wine. Every person drained their cup with the same unhesitating boldness.

The maids moved swiftly to refill each empty cup.

Hua Zhi raised her cup again. “The second cup — to ourselves.”

There were those whose eyes reddened for no reason they could name, yet their movements did not waver in the slightest. They drank without leaving a single drop.

The third cup was poured to the brim. Hua Zhi turned the cup slowly in her hands, then raised it high. “The last cup — to a future that will surely flourish.”

Zhu Shi turned her face away to quietly wipe her tears. Hua Zhi glanced at her, then was the first to pick up her chopsticks — placing a morsel of food into her mother’s bowl. “I feared that all of you might be too tense, but I feared too that you might grow too easy in your minds. I will not conceal the truth from you, so that everyone may weigh it clearly in their hearts: the Hua Family today is no more than meat upon another’s chopping block. We are very far from the moment when we may relax. In the days to come, I ask that we strive together — to protect our Hua Family.”

Hua Bailin was the first to respond. “Protect our Hua Family!”

The children’s clear voices followed. “Protect our Hua Family!”

One by one, in tones choked with tears or hoarse with feeling or ringing with fervor, the rest joined in: “Protect our Hua Family!”

Sitting at Hua Zhi’s side, Shao Yao looked to the left and to the right, then added her own voice: “Protect Hua Hua.”

The solemn, almost mournful atmosphere shattered in an instant. Hua Rong could not hold back her laughter, and with her laughter as a spark, everyone who had been fighting smiles broke open as well. The mood shifted in a heartbeat, rising into warmth and ease.

Hua Zhi rewarded Shao Yao with a generous ladleful of the fermented black soybeans she loved — stir-fried simply with some garlic greens, but utterly delicious. One ladleful of that, and Shao Yao could finish a whole bowl of rice.

Though everything was plain and vegetarian, the food was no less satisfying than a table of fish and meat. The New Year’s Eve banquet had none of the old rules about not speaking while eating. Between bites, between sips of sweet rice wine, gentle talk and laughter drifted around the table. And save for the absence of that great, steadfast man who had always stood like a pillar at the family’s center, the evening felt, against all expectation, light and free.

The Third Auntie Grandmother glanced over toward where Hua Zhi sat, then lowered her voice to address her grandson. “When you return to the Yang Family after the New Year, you must first give your regards to your cousin, just as the Yang Family once required your whereabouts before you could go anywhere.”

Yang Sui’an understood at once. “Yes. I understand.”

“You must truly understand, not merely say so.” She looked at her daughter — who had at last regained a little color and had covered the traces on her face with powder — and, remembering the hint Wu Shi had quietly let slip, she asked with studied casualness: “Xian’er, do you intend to go back?”

Hua Xian looked up, her expression flooding with alarm. “Are you asking me to go back?”

“Don’t panic yet. If you do not wish to return, no one will force you. Even if you were to divorce Yang Qi, this home will always be yours. No one will leave you without a place to go.”

A bloom of joy burst open in Hua Xian’s heart. She ached with longing for it — to sever herself from Yang Qi once and for all. Yet the Hua Family had never set such a precedent. Being taken back into her family home had already brought enough disgrace — if she were to divorce on top of that, her family would bear shame on her behalf.

The light in her eyes faded slowly. Hua Xian lowered her head again. In a small voice, she said: “I… I will leave things as they are.”

“And if the Yang Family sends someone to fetch you?”

Hua Xian went pale. She shook her head urgently at her mother. She did not want to go back.

“Then let it be a divorce.” On this New Year’s Eve banquet, the Third Auntie Grandmother — gentle and yielding all her life — exercised uncharacteristic decisiveness. “The eldest young miss has said that as long as you are willing, you will always be counted as one of the Hua Family. Going forward, each month you will receive an allowance of twenty taels of silver, just as the young men of the Hua Family your age once did. Whatever Bailin receives, you will receive as well. So, there is no need for you to worry about your future — and no need to force yourself.”