The two of them carried on until deep into the night before finally settling down. Minglan collapsed in exhaustion, so spent that even the sticky discomfort on her skin couldn’t move her to do anything about it — her eyelids pressing down like mountains. As for Gu Tingye, who had spent these past years wandering rough and living hard, he had no desire to get out of bed to bathe either, and simply held the half-sleeping Minglan close, nuzzling her tenderly.

Minglan slept deeply. In her haze, she felt as though she had been transported back to the days of large-scale military training — eight hours of field drills and parade marching every day, falling unconscious the moment her head touched the pillow at night, every part of her body feeling as though it had been thoroughly beaten. Her waist was limp, her legs ached, her bones felt as if they had been disassembled and put back together, and her mind was a sodden mess that practically needed to be sent to the factory for a complete overhaul.

As dawn began to creep in, Minglan was woken by something pressing down on her. She gasped for air like a carp pulled from the water, groping about with her eyes still shut until her hand found a massive weight pressing down on her belly — something like a great salted ham. She was furious enough to scratch the man’s face. Gu Tingye had also woken up. In the soft glow of early morning, the first light of dawn filtered through the bed curtains. He looked at Minglan in that gentle light and saw that her snow-white little face wore the marks of exhaustion, the dark circles beneath her eyes all the more pronounced — yet her large eyes remained bright and vivid, flickering between delight and mild reproach. Gu Tingye was deeply pleased. He took her small hand and brought it to his lips, blowing on it softly, his dark and handsome eyes shimmering with warmth.

Minglan held back for a long moment before finally managing to breathe out: “That… hmm… as long as the green mountains remain, there will never be a shortage of firewood…” Her voice grew quieter with each word — it was as good as begging for mercy.

Gu Tingye laughed despite himself and pulled Minglan into his arms, squeezing her into a bundle and pressing kiss after kiss on her without any particular direction, his chest rumbling with muffled laughter.

At that moment, a maidservant outside called softly through the bed curtain: “Second Master, Second Mistress, it is time to rise.”

It took Minglan quite a while to realize she was being addressed. She hurried to get up, but Gu Tingye beside her was still chuckling under his breath. Minglan balled up her little fist and punched him squarely on his broad and solid shoulder, hissing low: “Stop laughing! Someone’s here — and you’re still laughing? Still laughing?… Laugh again and I’ll call the constables to haul you away!”

Back in the day, Yao Yiyi used to threaten her cousin’s four-year-old nephew with exactly this — “Stop crying or I’ll call the police to take you away!” Now, in the heat of the moment, it had slipped right out of her mouth.

Gu Tingye laughed even harder, face buried in the bedding, shaking with suppressed mirth. Minglan, buried under the shimmering covers and overshadowed by his tall frame, fumed and lunged to bite him, baring her teeth like a tiny beast that had just grown its first milk teeth — not the least bit threatening, but terribly endearing. After carrying on for quite some time, Gu Tingye finally had enough and called for the attendants to come in and help them wash and dress.

Nanny Cui had long been prepared. She led Danju and Xiaotao in first, wrapping Minglan in a wide robe and bringing her into the side chamber to bathe and dress, then directed the other maids and matrons to file in carrying basins, buckets, and towels. One group attended to Gu Tingye; another attended to Minglan.

Once Minglan was done and had put on her inner garments and middle robes, she came out to find that Gu Tingye had also freshened up and was now seated while Xia He helped comb and knot his hair. When the two of them were more or less presentable, a matron who appeared to be a household manager came in, retrieved the white silk bridal kerchief from the inner chamber, inspected it, then smiled and tucked it away into a carved lacquered red-and-gold wooden box.

The first morning appearance of a new bride required splendor. Minglan was dressed in a resplendent crimson gown embroidered with golden peonies, adorned with a grand hairpiece of five phoenixes facing the sun, set with gold filigree beads and ruby pendants. Her ears bore dangling earrings of red coral and gold tassels. Across her chest hung a red-gold necklace shaped like a double fish for good fortune, set with a ruby-inlaid lucky lock pendant. Around her wrists were stacked seventeen or eighteen gold dragon-and-phoenix bangles. This entire ensemble very nearly flattened Minglan where she stood — and she had spent the previous night in vigorous battle to boot, her every muscle aching: reaching out hurt, lifting a foot hurt. Nanny Cui, full of concern, thought of the blue and red bruises covering Minglan’s body, and the look she turned on Gu Tingye was distinctly unfriendly.

Gu Tingye was also dressed in brilliant crimson bridal robes, the fabric from both shoulders down woven through with golden bat medallions. He wore a sandalwood-colored sash of delicate ink-patterned jade-inlaid silk about his waist, and stood before a full-length mirror allowing Xia Zhu to adjust the hem of his robes.

Minglan glanced sideways at him and could not help letting out a quiet word of admiration: that deep, blazing red — vivid as a roaring fire — often carried a faint softness to it, but on him, a man so tall and upright, shoulders broad, back straight, it was transformed into something commanding and magnificent, radiating a sweeping heroic air.

Gu Tingye caught Minglan’s gaze in the mirror and turned to look at her, studying her from head to toe before smiling and saying: “You look very beautiful like this.” Minglan nodded, mischief in her eyes but her face perfectly composed, replying in a low voice: “You look very handsome like this too.”

Gu Tingye feigned a fierce glare. Minglan gave a pitiful apologetic smile, hugging her sleeves. Then, in an instant, the two exchanged a look and burst into smiles — not a trace of awkwardness or distance between them. It seemed that the old saying was true after all: some people feel like old friends the moment they meet.

The maids and matrons in the room all kept their heads down and said nothing, though inwardly they were quite surprised. Those from the Sheng household thought, The young lady seems immediately at ease with her husband. Those from the Gu household thought, Since when have we ever seen Second Master in such a pleasant mood? Several of the more perceptive ones snuck sidelong glances at Minglan, thinking to themselves that with such a radiant and charming new mistress, Second Master was surely very pleased.

According to normal custom, the schedule on the first day of marriage went as follows: first, perform the ceremonial bow before the immediate elders; then meet the extended family; then open the ancestral hall and be entered into the family register — with meals in between. Because the situation at Ninguan Marquis Mansion was rather unusual, Minglan had quietly asked Gu Tingye about this beforehand. He had given her a single reply: “Naturally, we pay our respects to the parents first.”

These words carried considerable weight, and were also quite ambiguous. First of all, his father had already passed away. Second, his mother had passed away even earlier. Third, his current mother was a stepmother, and rumor had it that the relationship between stepmother and stepson was not particularly harmonious.

Minglan was thoroughly puzzled: under these circumstances, how exactly was one to interpret what the new head of the household had said?

She was still lost in thought when a household manager in a dark brown unadorned brocade vest appeared at the door. The maid holding up the curtain gave a small curtsy: “Good morning, Matron Xiang.”

Matron Xiang had a fair complexion and a kind, gentle face. She entered and curtseyed to both Gu Tingye and Minglan, smiling as she said: “Second Master, Second Mistress, the Mistress has asked that you first go to the ancestral hall to offer incense and pay respects to the late Marquis and Lady Bai. She has gone ahead to wait.”

Gu Tingye replied warmly: “Thank you for your trouble, Matron. We will go at once.” His smile was pleasant, but it did not reach his eyes.

Minglan quickly told Danju to bring out a red envelope to press into Matron Xiang’s hand. Matron Xiang accepted it with a full smile, then respectfully took her leave. Because Minglan had smiled a little too eagerly at Matron Xiang, Gu Tingye gave her a faint look — and then the entire party set off in a cluster toward the ancestral hall.

An ancestral hall is a place where the ancestral tablets are enshrined and offerings made to them. In ancient times, lineage and ancestry were everything. It was said that the more ancestral tablets a family possessed, the more illustrious their forebears, and therefore the more distinguished and long-established the family.

When the Sheng family had held their ancestral rites back in Youyang, Minglan had once idled away the time by counting all the Sheng ancestral tablets while kneeling below — and the result was… well. No wonder that despite the Sheng family’s prestige and wealth, they still did not dare to lord it over their hometown.

According to Rulan’s gossip, it was said that Old Master Sheng had been nothing more than a street beggar, who did not even know his own name. One day he heard a part-time fortune-teller reciting a saying: The great Sheng age is at hand. A group of half-starved little beggar children stirred with hope, and it was then that the old master had steeled himself and survived. He thereafter adopted “Sheng” as his surname, and gave himself a name while he was at it. Though, to be fair, nine-tenths of Rulan’s gossip was fabricated — she had never been able to bear the long kneeling sessions in the ancestral hall, and in her resentment had taken to inventing slanders in her head.

In truth, while Old Master Sheng had lost his parents young and wandered and begged as a child, he apparently had some dim memory of his own father and mother. Beyond them, his ancestors were entirely lost to him. And unlike General Wei, he did not have the audacity to have his wife fabricate a complete family genealogy to submit to the court for official recognition. So the Sheng ancestral hall’s tablets were really rather sparse — all put together, they did not even fill a single string of figurine gourds.

Thus it was that when Minglan stood in the Gu family ancestral hall, an inexplicable wave of inadequacy swept over her.

The hall was solemn and deep, its high pillars commanding. The entire north-facing wall had been built out into an altar of offering tables, with **-inch stepped tablet niches stacked one upon another in layer after layer, rising seventeen or eighteen tiers high, the tablets dense and numerous. Minglan could not help but feel a little short of breath just looking at them.

Lady Qin was already in the ancestral hall. The moment she saw Gu Tingye and Minglan, she walked toward them with a few graceful steps, smiling warmly: “You must be tired from yesterday. Come, let us offer incense and bow to the ancestors quickly.” The maids had already prepared prayer cushions and incense sticks before the offering table. Minglan’s gaze swept past — in the center of the bottom row was one tablet, comparatively newer-looking, inscribed with the words: Tablet of the Late Father, Lord Gu Yankai. Understanding dawning in her heart, Minglan followed closely behind Gu Tingye, step for step. She knelt respectfully on the cushion, then burned incense and offered prayers, finally placing the incense stick into the bronze censer. With the rite complete, she glanced sideways — and saw that Gu Tingye was gazing fixedly at a worn and aged tablet to the lower right, which read: Tablet of the Late Mother, Lady Bai of the Gu Household. His eyes grew subtly dim.

Looking more carefully, Minglan noticed that beside the tablet of Gu’s father there were two slightly smaller tablets: one for Lady Bai, his birth mother, and another, more ornate and gilded one, inscribed: Tablet of the Late Mother, Lady Qin of the Gu Household. Minglan could not help casting a glance at Lady Qin standing beside her, thinking — if Lady Qin were to pass away as well, how would her tablet be inscribed? In this era, tablets did not typically bear women’s given names, which made it rather easy for confusion to arise.

Gu Tingye recovered quickly and turned to address the Mistress: “We should now pay our respects to you, Mistress.”

Lady Qin was seated to one side, her expression touched with sorrow, pressing a handkerchief to the corners of her eyes and gently waving her hand: “No need, no need.”

“Propriety must be observed. Mistress, please do not decline.” Gu Tingye’s voice was low but his manner resolute. Minglan, ever the dutiful wife following her husband’s lead, quickly instructed Danju to move both prayer cushions in front of the Mistress and assumed a posture of readiness to kneel.

Seeing she could not refuse, Lady Qin composed herself and sat upright to receive their obeisance with a gracious smile. After the two of them completed the bow, Minglan received a pair of exquisite translucent jade bracelets inlaid with gold filigree, along with a plump and heavy autumn-yellow embroidered gourd-shaped sachet.

These were quite worth the kneeling.

“Go and see your elder brother,” Lady Qin said, gazing at the two of them with warmth, moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. “He has not been well these past two years, and grew even more gravely ill before the new year. By now he cannot even leave his bed. Seeing you settled and married, he will surely be overjoyed.”

Gu Tingye’s expression fell, as though he too was deeply grieved. He said quietly: “Of course.”

The party then moved in a procession toward the main courtyard. The walk was quite silent — Lady Qin occasionally murmured a few words about Elder Brother Gu’s condition, but as she was after all the elder, it was not proper to go on too long and seem unsteady, so after a few sentences she fell quiet as well. Minglan, as the newly arrived young bride, was not in a position to speak too freely, and so kept her mouth shut tight, doing her best impression of shyness. As for Gu Tingye — he simply had no desire to talk. His complexion was dim, his expression brooding. Minglan would have wagered that if asked, he would have said straight away: Big Brother is gravely ill. My heart is heavy.

Minglan watched him out of the corner of her eye. This man was absolutely saying one thing and feeling another.

After roughly the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the party finally arrived at the main courtyard. They had barely entered the second gate when a heavy smell of medicinal broth hit them. Minglan followed behind the Mistress into a large bedchamber: blue-bricked floor covered with thick rugs, all decorative items stripped away. From the side tables along the wall to the space beside the bed, every surface was crowded with medicinal pots and decoction stoves; even the display shelves to the east were lined with bottles and jars. Outside it was already the warm spring month, yet inside the room a blazing brazier still burned.

In a bed of purple sandalwood carved with vines, birds, insects, and blossoms lay a man. Beside the bed sat Lady Shao, who had been weeping quietly. Hearing footsteps, she quickly wiped the tears from her face and rose to receive them.

“Yu’er, your second brother has come to see you!” Lady Qin called out gently. Seeing Gu Tingyu trying to sit up, she hurried over and pressed him back down, holding his hand and patting it softly, murmuring to him all the while, her eyes reddening at the rims.

Despite Lady Qin’s oversight in omitting her from the introduction, Minglan smiled serenely and stepped forward with Gu Tingye, bowing properly: “We pay our respects to Elder Brother. We pay our respects to Elder Sister-in-law.”

Lady Shao rose quickly to return the greeting. Gu Tingyu mustered his strength to prop himself up slightly; Lady Shao helped him lean back against the pillows. He gave Gu Tingye a nod, then turned to Minglan with a faint smile: “Forgive your eldest brother, sister-in-law — I am truly good for nothing.”

Minglan replied at once: “Not at all. Brother, your recovery is what matters most.” As she raised her eyes, she was struck with surprise. Though Gu Tingyu was plainly ravaged by illness — his complexion the color of wax, gaunt and wasted to little more than bone — his features bore a strong resemblance to Lady Qin’s, and were even more delicately refined. Of all the people she had encountered since coming to this ancient world, only Qi Heng’s appearance could compare.

The difference lay in this: Qi Heng’s looks were defined by a bright, masculine handsomeness, while Gu Tingyu’s had a more gentle, almost androgynous quality. After finishing his words, he gave several low, hollow coughs; pale blue veins rose unnaturally along his wan neck, and an unhealthy flush crept into his cheeks.

“My child, rest now.” Lady Qin seemed as though her heart was breaking, the hand she laid over Gu Tingyu’s trembling faintly. Her tender concern appeared wholly genuine.

Gu Tingyu smiled faintly, clasping the Mistress’s hand, his eyes fixed on Gu Tingye — traveling from his upright, powerful frame up to his face, so full of vitality. Something between envy and shadow flickered in his expression. After catching his breath for several moments, he managed to speak: “So you have finally come to see me. Very well. In the end it is Heaven’s will. When it is time to vacate a place, one must vacate it — so it was the first time, so it is again.”

Gu Tingye gazed at his elder brother steadily for a moment, then replied with a composed and soothing expression: “Elder Brother, what are you saying? You are merely unwell for the time being. Once you have recovered your health, everything will be as it should be.”

Gu Tingyu gave a bitter smile: “You have indeed grown — even learned to say things like this. Those years outside were not wasted on you. Well and good. At this point, in this household, you are the only one who can hold things together.”

Gu Tingye lowered his head and said nothing. After a moment, he smiled again and offered a few more words of comfort, carrying the air of two brothers who shared a genuine bond. Elder Brother Gu managed a few more sentences before another fit of coughing and fever overtook him, and he drifted into a daze and fell asleep. The party withdrew quietly, stepping softly.

The Mistress’s expression was melancholy as she turned at the door to address Lady Shao: “You have likely not had breakfast yet, have you? Let the maids and matrons watch over Yu’er for a while — come join us for the meal.”

Lady Shao declined a few times but then followed them out. The group made their way to the east side chamber, and stepping inside, found a full table of food already laid out. A young woman was bustling about busily, making the final arrangements.

This young woman had a round, lotus-shaped face, and wore a rose-purple brocade vest densely patterned with twining lotus blossoms. A gold-backed ruby peony-and-pearl hairpin was thrust into her loosely pinned chignon, giving her an air of lively charm. When she saw that everyone had arrived, her large eyes curved into a smile, and she said: “Mother, Elder Sister-in-law, Second Brother, Second Sister-in-law — you’re finally here! If you’d waited any longer I would have started eating without you, I’m so famished!”

At these words, Lady Shao brightened first, laughing outright. But the Mistress’s expression remained mild and even, without the same warmth she showed toward Lady Shao; she only said: “Let us begin. Everyone must be hungry.”

Lady Shao drew the young woman closer and introduced her to Minglan: “This is your younger sister-in-law — the wife of Tingwei. Her family is the Zhu Family of the Chengping Earldom. She has always been very warm and friendly. When you feel lonely in the days to come, go and find her for a chat — she will be more than happy for the company.”

The moment she heard the name “Tingwei,” Minglan nearly choked on her own breath — then remembered that such a thing certainly did not exist in ancient times by that name, and this was presumably Gu Tingwei, the younger brother, Lady Qin’s own son.

Minglan nodded with a smile, then found herself in a bit of a predicament: in terms of age, she was several years younger than Zhu Shi — but in terms of seniority, she was the Second Sister-in-law. She was still trying to figure out how to address her when Zhu Shi, not the least bit bothered, sidled over and gave a bright curtsy: “Greetings, Second Sister-in-law. I hope you are well.”

Minglan felt her face go warm, and could only respond: “I hope you too are well, sister-in-law.” She then took a prepared sachet from Danju and passed it over. Zhu Shi accepted it naturally and cheerfully, laughing: “Being the youngest daughter-in-law really is wonderful — the more elder brothers and sisters-in-law, the better!”

Everyone burst into laughter, and even the Mistress could not quite suppress a trace of a smile.

When the meal was laid and everyone was taking their seats, Minglan noticed that Lady Shao and Zhu Shi were still standing, and dutifully moved to stand aside as well, preparing to serve food to others. The Mistress quickly waved her hand: “Sit down and eat, all of you. Never mind the saying that there is no hierarchy on the wedding day — besides, our household is not so rigid. Come, sit.” Then she turned to Gu Tingye: “You go to the outer side chamber. Your younger brother is waiting. The two of you brothers have not seen each other in how long? Go and have a good talk. After breakfast, we will proceed with the family introductions.”

Gu Tingye bowed in acknowledgment, then walked over to Minglan and murmured quietly: “I’m going ahead. You… eat well.” His face was expressionless, yet the concern was impossible to conceal.

The Mistress turned her head to give instructions to a maid about something, as though she had noticed nothing — though the corner of her mouth held the faintest smile. Lady Shao watched with a gentle expression, a small flicker of tender wistfulness in her heart. Zhu Shi, however, made no effort to hide her amusement, and laughed outright: “Second Brother! We’re not going to eat Second Sister-in-law!”

Gu Tingye gave a half-bow to the assembled ladies, smiled, and took his leave.

Minglan stood with her head lowered, slightly at a loss for what to do with herself — all right then. She could now mostly control her blushing. The day she could command her complexion at will would be the day she had truly come into her own.

Minglan lifted her eyes a fraction and swept a quick glance around the assembled ladies. For the moment, everything seemed quite normal: her mother-in-law was gracious and kind, her elder sister-in-law dignified and gentle, her younger sister-in-law lively and friendly, and the atmosphere among all the relatives warm and harmonious. If all of this was genuine, then she had fared quite well indeed.

But ever since being buried alive by a mudslide, Minglan had come to understand one thing: life was always full of surprises. She just had no idea yet what surprises Ninguan Marquis Mansion had in store for her.