Before Minglan had married, any number of ladies who came to offer their congratulations had praised the splendor of the match. At the time, she had had no particular strong feeling about it — she only thought that Gu Tingye’s bride gifts had been rather flashily extravagant, the taste of a nouveau riche. It was not until the day of the return visit to her parents’ home — the two of them arriving by carriage at the Sheng Mansion gate, where Changbai and Changwu stood to meet them — that it was made quite concrete for her. At that moment, as it happened, Molan and Rulan and their husbands had also just arrived.

Minglan stepped down from the carriage with Danju’s help, and looked at Rulan’s small plain-topped sedan, and Molan’s plain-topped single-horse cart, then turned back to look at their own conspicuously opulent carriage — gleaming black lacquer, stone-blue canopy, silver serpent brocade hangings. Minglan began to feel a little uncomfortable.

Rulan’s smile froze on her face; her gaze went cool. Molan stiffened slightly, then composed herself.

Minglan could not help glancing at Gu Tingye — this carriage… it was not in violation of sumptuary law, was it?

Once they had descended from the carriages and exchanged greetings, Gu Tingye gave Liang Han a brief nod — nothing more — though Minglan could sense, with a faint instinct, that he did not particularly care for Liang Han. The party filed through the gates in procession, and as new arrivals, the married couple naturally had to first call on Old Madam at Shou’an Hall.

Old Madam was seated in the upper place. Minglan and Gu Tingye knelt on the prayer cushions in a full bow. Though only a few days had passed, Old Madam gazed at Minglan as though half a lifetime had gone by — she took her hand and examined her over and over, and the more she looked, the darker her expression grew.

In not even two full days, Minglan had an altogether stripped appearance — the shadows beneath her eyes were a faint but distinct blue-black, like the spreading bloom of deep indigo ink, impossible to conceal beneath even the thinnest layer of powder; her bearing was listless and lacking in spirit, yet there was a certain soft and languid quality about her eyes and brows. Then there was Gu Tingye beside her — clear-eyed and fresh, brow smooth and relaxed, with a look of subtle, deeply satisfied contentment in his expression.

Old Madam felt a surge of indignation — mixed with sorrowful protectiveness — and could not say a word. She could only aim a look at Gu Tingye as sharp as a steel blade, scraping back and forth, again and again. Gu Tingye’s expression remained entirely unmoved and composed — as if completely oblivious.

Old Madam cycled through her feelings several times before finally saying: “Go quickly and bow to your father and mother. They have been thinking of you.”

Minglan was reluctant to leave Old Madam. She leaned against her and murmured: “I will come right back after the bowing, and sit with you properly for a good talk.”

Old Madam smiled and nodded, watching the young couple go. In no more than a moment, however, her expression changed. She gave Nanny Fang a meaningful look; Nanny Fang understood and slipped away, going directly to find Nanny Cui for a conversation.

Nanny Cui was by nature quiet and reserved, a person who had lived her entire life without stirring up trouble or involving herself in others’ affairs — yet this occasion was perhaps the first time in her life she had felt such a fierce and burning desire to tell someone all about it. She did not even wait for Nanny Fang to come to her; she was already in the side parlor of Shou’an Hall, waiting.

“Between a new married couple, some warmth and closeness is natural enough — but not like him! …Never mind whether there is anyone around or not, the instant he lays eyes on the young lady it is all green-eyed hunger, and the moment no one is watching it is hands and feet everywhere — morning, midday, night, carrying on without stopping!” Nanny Cui smacked the table lightly and gritted her teeth. “The young lady’s body has only just filled out! How can he… carry on like this?!”

Nanny Fang stared, absolutely taken aback, looking distinctly flustered — had she not known perfectly well that Nanny Cui was a woman of few words and unassailable honesty, she might not have believed any of it: “Son-in-law Gu is at that age — how can there be no one in his rooms?”

At that, Nanny Cui’s temper finally settled a little: “The poor young lady has not had a moment to manage anything these past few days. But I went around and made inquiries — Son-in-law’s original Yiniang and one chamber attendant are both still at Ninguan Marquis Mansion, to be collected later. Son-in-law is very busy, out handling official affairs all day and barely returning to the residence, so things there are fairly quiet. There is only a girl called ‘Fengxian’ living in a side courtyard — she was apparently sent by some general or other. I have not seen her myself, but I hear that Son-in-law has… paid her very little attention.”

Nanny Fang heard this and did not quite know whether to be relieved or worried. After a long silence: “Son-in-law doting on the young lady is a good thing — but…” She could not find the right words, and in the end could only say: “Best tell Old Madam about it.”

Old Master Sheng was by temperament a man who preferred quiet and had never liked gathering seven aunts and eight great-aunts for chattering gatherings in Shou’an Hall. So all the relatives had made themselves comfortable in Lady Wang’s main courtyard over tea. Gu Tingye and Minglan went directly into the main hall, where they found: Auntie Kang and her husband, Yun’er, Molan, Rulan, the visibly pregnant Hai Shi, and also Changwu, Changbai, Changfeng, Changdong, Liang Han, Yan Jing, Yuan Shao — all of them were there.

Everyone exchanged greetings, and then Minglan and Gu Tingye went first into the east inner chamber. Sheng Hong and Lady Wang were seated on the heated platform bed by the window, and received the couple’s kneeling bow with smiling ease.

Lady Wang gazed at Gu Tingye with great warmth and said: “My Minglan — she has not given you any trouble, I hope?”

Sheng Hong, standing beside her, gave an almost imperceptible stiffening at these words. He genuinely admired this wife of his: setting aside Hualan, every daughter who had returned for her visit had been met with exactly the same opening line from Lady Wang.

The only variations were in delivery: to Liang Han, it was with drawn-up brows and a creditor’s crisp disdain: “My Molan — she has not given you any trouble, I hope?” To Yan Jing, it was with warm, fervent eyes and a soft eagerness that contained within it a current of formidable expectation: “My Rulan — she has not given you any trouble, I hope?” And now to Gu Tingye, it was half ingratiating, half overawed, the tone softened entirely.

Sheng Hong was at a loss for words. At the very least, Minglan was his last daughter — and so this was also the last time he would ever have to hear this line. Heaven be praised.

Gu Tingye’s reply was well-judged: “Minglan is courteous, sensible, gentle and respectful. Everyone in the household is very fond of her.”

Minglan kept her head lowered and her eyes toward the ceiling. Her personal assessment was that her most notable performances over the past two days had been entirely confined to the bed.

“…Watching you all establish your own households — it truly sets this father’s heart at ease.” Sheng Hong stroked his beard and smiled at Gu Tingye. “If in the future your mother and I are no longer in the capital, I trust you to be patient with this child Minglan.”

“Father… you are being posted away?” Minglan’s heart quickened, and she asked quietly.

Sheng Hong looked at Minglan with satisfaction — this daughter of his was truly sharp as ice and clear as snow. She heard the slightest note and grasped the full melody. He smiled: “Your elder brother’s tenure as a junior compiler at the Hanlin Academy is approaching completion. Word has come recently — he is to be appointed either as an Imperial Reader-in-waiting, or to enter the Six Bureaus of Scrutiny as a Supervising Secretary for practical experience. Your father and son serving in the same court involves too many complications; it is best that the old father step aside somewhat. Ha ha…”

Though he appeared to be addressing Minglan, his eyes were fixed on Gu Tingye. Gu Tingye understood perfectly, and after a moment of consideration said: “You have thought about this wisely, Father-in-law. The Hanlin Academy is prestigious and refined — compiling historical records, drafting imperial documents. The Six Bureaus of Scrutiny are practical and substantive — transcribing memorials, inspecting irregularities. Both are positions of low rank but considerable authority. Brother-in-law Zecheng is by nature careful and perceptive — whichever post he is assigned to, he will surely excel.”

This was precisely what Sheng Hong had been waiting to hear. His manner became all the more genial and warmly approachable, and he drew Gu Tingye into further extended conversation.

Minglan understood her father’s calculation well. If the Sheng family could produce a member of the Grand Secretariat, their standing would multiply many times over. As she understood it, there were roughly two paths into the inner cabinet: one was to enter the Hanlin Academy through the imperial examination, then accumulate years of seniority as an Imperial Reader or Lecturer until rising to Grand Academician — from which one might eventually enter the cabinet. The other was to complete one’s tenure as a Hanlin probationary scholar and then enter one of the Six Ministries or Six Bureaus to gain practical experience in actual administration, possibly being posted away to a provincial role for a term or two, then accumulating rank and promotion through the ministries until reaching the level of Vice Minister or Minister, at which point entry to the inner cabinet became a real possibility.

Changbai was measured and discreet in all his actions. His most senior colleagues at the Hanlin Academy had been protégés of the Hai family — and under their patronage, a smooth rise would have been assured. But in the upheaval of the Shenchen Incident, nearly all of those men had been swept away. Hence Sheng Hong’s need for Gu Tingye to signal at least some degree of support. The current Emperor was forceful and active in his rule; Changbai was of impeccable background and was following the orthodox path of legitimate advancement in the examinations. Even without connections inside the inner cabinet, as long as the Emperor had him in mind, everything would follow in due course.

Minglan silently reflected: This is what it means to be a great family. Through continual intermarriage, a web of power is woven. In the noble class of antiquity, there was no more direct and effective bond of power than that of blood and marriage. It sounds crude and ridiculous — but it is the truth.

Ancient ritual law took the clan as its basic unit, and stressed that there was no impropriety in recommending one’s own kin — because if one person committed an offense, it could implicate the entire clan; in extreme cases, nine generations; if one was particularly unfortunate and the Emperor happened to be a man of unusual character, even the teachers of the tenth generation were not safe. Since the fates were always tied together, naturally it was best to share the good fortune as well. As long as one’s relatives were not rotten through, or had some capability, helping them was helping oneself; supporting and encouraging one another, the family would pass the baton generation to generation and endure in prosperity.

One of the great underlying reasons for the downfall of the four families — Jia, Shi, Wang, and Xue — was that from the third generation onward, not a single one of the four families had produced anyone of worth; not one could put forth a credible representative. The Jia family at least had a noble consort daughter; the Wang family at least had Wang Teng, the Inspector-General of Nine Provinces. But the one family member who could actually study — Jia Zhu — had died young. And then there was the rest of them: Jia She, who caused another family’s ruin over a pair of fans; Xue Pan, who beat a man to death; Jia Baoyu, who got entangled with a prince’s male companion. When it came to bringing disaster upon themselves, they were all quite extraordinarily capable.

A family without worthy successors — its decline and fall is only ever a matter of time.

Minglan was following all of this and stayed quietly in place. Lady Wang, by contrast, did not follow it especially well and was beginning to feel rather bored. She had intended to pull rank as stepmother and deliver a few pointed words of instruction to Minglan in front of her impressive son-in-law — but Sheng Hong had seized the whole conversation, moving from the fate of the nation to the destiny of the people without pause, and she could not find a single gap to insert herself.

Before long, however, the assembled company waiting in the outer hall began filing in as one, with Yuan Shao, Changwu, and others laughing as they came — the food and wine were growing cold, they said; it was past time. Sheng Hong saw there was little more to say, and laughingly went with everyone out to drink.

The ladies drew Minglan aside to a separate table in the inner hall. Maids arranged a round black lacquer table for seven or eight people; when the dishes arrived, everyone gathered around and fell into easy conversation. Lady Wang pulled Minglan down to sit beside her.

All the women present were married. One look at Minglan’s appearance, and everyone understood what was what — some with envy, some with a touch of sourness, some with warm relief. Each with her own private thoughts.

Molan’s gaze fixed on Minglan, unmoving. She looked at Minglan in her great crimson true-silk brocade phoenix-and-phoenix-cloud wide-sleeve formal robe, over which she wore a sheer-as-cicada-wing golden thread phoenix-patterned vest; hair swept up in a formal sky-reaching chignon, crowned with a magnificent five-phoenix purple-gold spreading-wing pearl-draped hairpiece, dangling tassel earrings of pure gold with rubies the size of thumbs blazing bright enough to dazzle the eye. Before stepping out that morning, Gu Tingye had pressed six or seven gold and gemstone rings onto Minglan’s fingers, until Minglan felt too embarrassed to show her hands at all.

This ensemble was not merely splendid and imposing — it was the specific dress of a high-ranked noblewoman, restricted to those of appropriate status and rank. Looking at it, Molan’s heart turned cold — while her face was put to the work of projecting great delight as she spoke with Minglan repeatedly.

Minglan endured a faint headache, then deliberately lifted her wine cup and turned toward Lady Wang, looking her directly in the eye and saying with sincere clarity: “This first cup — daughter offers it to you, Mother. When Minglan was small and sickly, were it not for your devoted care, and that of Elder Sister Hualan, this little life of mine would have been forfeited long ago! Minglan offers this in gratitude!” With that, she tipped the cup back and drank it clean. At least the part about Hualan was entirely true.

Lady Wang’s eyes immediately grew wet. She drank her cup dry and took Minglan’s hand, deeply touched, murmuring: “You child — on such a happy occasion, what are you saying! Between family, what is there to thank for… You were always so obedient and sensible from little, less trouble than any of the older ones. How could I not have loved you?” Carried along by feeling, she said it and believed it herself.

Molan’s face went pale. She lowered her head and said nothing. Minglan glanced sideways at her — Molan was dressed with deliberate sobriety, minimal cosmetics, hair in a plain and proper arrangement, even her earrings simple loops, entirely still — the very model of a composed and proper first wife. And yet she could not conceal the exhaustion and tension gathering at the corners of her eyes, or the deepening groove of worry beginning to form between her brows.

Minglan sighed quietly inside. She had no intention of settling old scores. She only hoped Molan would be clear-eyed enough to know her place — and not presume too much, or come forward with open demands as though she were owed something. This was simply an advance precaution.

Seeing the warm scene between the two of them, Auntie Kang was not without a touch of sourness: “Little Minglan has grown so capable now. When so many in the family will be looking to you, you must remember the kindness your mother has shown you, and not forget your roots—!” She had lost half her dowry to the dealings of a concubine-born girl, and had originally planned to settle for a few convenient matches — only for the Kang family to cling to their supposed prominence and insist on keeping up appearances despite their poverty.

The corner of Minglan’s mouth turned up a fraction; she gave a small smile and said nothing. But Rulan was displeased. She was a straightforward soul, and since Kang Zhao’er had married into the Wang family, she had regarded Auntie Kang as a despicable small person. Were it not for Yun’er’s sake, she would have long since said something to the effect of: The Sheng daughters’ return visit — what has it got to do with the Kang family? What are you doing here, crashing yet another meal?

“Auntie, you are quite right! Sixth Sister — you must remember that those who have been good to you must be repaid; and even if you cannot repay them, you must never repay kindness with enmity!” Rulan’s silver-pink water-silk embroidered jacket, trimmed with rolled pink velvet borders, set off her rosy-cheeked, glowing complexion — clearly life after marriage was treating her well.

Auntie Kang’s expression grew quite unnatural; she lowered her head over her wine cup. Yun’er knew the full history of the matter and felt deep shame on behalf of her own mother’s conduct. Chang Wu had been so good to her, and had gone on supporting the Kang family year after year — and her own in-laws and the Sheng family were as closely tied as any two families could be. She had no desire to make enemies of anyone, and could only hope her mother would say as little as possible.

She pulled Rulan aside and murmured a few words of conciliation, while continuously piling food into Lady Wang’s bowl. Minglan watched and sighed inwardly.

Hai Shi, seeing the atmosphere grow slightly tense, stepped in to smooth things over: “A few days ago, Mother went to the Yuan family to visit Elder Sister — she says her belly is even larger than mine. Her months are fewer than mine, yet her belly is clearly bigger. Could there be two of them in there? Elder Sister has been saying her belly hurts — maybe they are two strong little brothers, practicing their boxing inside!”

At this, all the ladies laughed. Lady Wang was particularly delighted — flush with satisfaction, she had emptied several cups in a row, her speech beginning to blur at the edges. The wine had made two rounds when a maidservant came in from outside and whispered something in Minglan’s ear.

Minglan rose, smiled at everyone, and said: “Old Madam would like a word with me — I will go first.”

Lady Wang was no longer very clear-headed. Hai Shi smiled: “Go on — Old Madam has a great deal she wants to say to you.”

Minglan smiled her farewells and turned to follow the maid, quickening her pace the moment she was out the door. She went directly to Shou’an Hall; one step through the main gate, and she turned into the left inner chamber — and sure enough, there was a small table of food laid out inside, and Old Madam sitting by the window, waiting.

Minglan’s heart swelled. She hurried over with a bright smile, wrapped her arms around Old Madam’s elbow and shook it in a coaxing, endearing way: “My heart and Grandmother’s are perfectly in tune — I knew Grandmother was waiting for me! I came here on purpose with an empty stomach!”

Old Madam could not keep the smile from her face, and scolded laughingly: “It was all for your sake, you little monkey — waiting here until I myself grew hungry!”

Minglan threw herself into Old Madam’s arms in a theatrical display of devoted affection: “Let me rub Grandmother’s tummy!”

Old Madam pinched her cheek: “An empty stomach — what is there to rub? Do you want it to hurt all the more from hunger?!” Minglan helped Old Madam settle into a seat at the table, then personally filled a full bowl of winter melon, pork-rib, and mushroom soup: “You eat first, you eat!”

Nanny Fang felt her eyes prickling with warmth: “Old Madam has not been this happy in such a long time!”

“What do you mean, such a long time?!” Old Madam turned and gave a sharp look. “It has only been two days!”

Minglan cradled her own little face in both hands, with a radiant air of cheerful melancholy: “One day not seen is like an autumn apart — oh dear, this many autumns have passed — Grandmother must have been longing for me until she fell ill with longing. Whatever shall be done — who told me to be so endlessly loveable, there is nothing to be done for it!”

Old Madam finally could not hold herself together, and nearly laughed herself to tears: “You shameless thing, always glorifying yourself — where is your sense of shame?!”

Minglan tilted her head and presented her bright little face: “I have none! You take it!”

Old Madam laughed until she was patting at Minglan, and the two of them dissolved in laughter together.

Throughout the meal, Old Madam listened to Minglan chatter and bubble along about the people of the Gu household — laughing one moment, exclaiming the next. Minglan’s heart ached, knowing that after this day it would be hard to see Old Madam often. So she made a deliberate effort to paint everything in pleasant colors, bringing the days of the new marriage to vivid, amusing life, as though the Gu household were a picture of perfect happiness.

Old Madam listened with a smile. When the meal was done, Nanny Fang told the maids to clear the bowls and dishes, and drew the chamber doors closed as she went out.

“I have something to say to you — sit properly.” Old Madam’s expression had grown serious. Minglan, after many years together, knew this meant she was about to speak in earnest. She obediently offered up a teacup and then sat up straight, waiting to be addressed.

Looking at Minglan’s forced bright smile and the fatigue underneath it, Old Madam could not help feeling conflicted. Ever since Nanny Fang had relayed Nanny Cui’s words to her, she had been uncertain. Such private matters of the inner chamber were not for others to pry into — the best course was generally to see and unsee. Old Madam’s thoughts turned over a thousand times, and she finally said: “He… has he been treating you well?”

Minglan did her best not to let her thoughts stray in unintended directions, and said with a deep pink face: “Quite well.” Which aspect of things are you asking about?

Old Madam opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to proceed, and pivoted the conversation: “Who is managing affairs in your household right now?”

Minglan paused: “Ah… this, I am not quite clear on.”

Old Madam’s gaze held something resembling reproach. After a moment she sighed, and gently continued: “Is the residence in good order? I hear the property was originally the home of an important official from the last reign — it has been empty for close to ten years. Does it need repairs?”

Minglan looked entirely blank: “Mm… this I do not know either.” She had barely stepped out of the bedchamber; she had not the faintest idea what the residence looked like.

Old Madam’s eyes began to widen, and her complexion darkened as she pressed urgently: “Then what are the settled estate revenues for your household annually?” One would think that at the very least they had exchanged a word or two!

Minglan twisted uncomfortably: “This… your granddaughter does not know either.” In bed, there was not much call for lengthy conversation — it was either sleeping or exercise.

One question, no answer. Old Madam stared at the sky in speechless despondency, and turned to look at her little granddaughter. She had raised someone with eighteen complete accomplishments — and in the end, none of it had been required. The man in question needed only the most elementary of skills.

Minglan was burning with shame, her mind in turmoil, and finally murmured: “Grandmother, do not worry. He truly is quite good to me.”

Old Madam felt completely drained, and let out a long, long sigh.

“…Grandmother, Minglan understands what you mean. Minglan will be careful.” Minglan knew Old Madam was worried for her. In truth, she also knew her own situation was genuinely complicated — it was not that she did not want to work at it; only that these past two days there had simply been no opportunity.

“All right then — tell me: these past two days, has your husband had anything that has weighed on him?” Old Madam stopped sighing and asked again.

Things weighing on him? Minglan felt he had things weighing on him from every direction — a difficult stepmother, an elder brother half-dead, a household full of relatives. She thought for a moment, then said quietly: “Grandmother, in my view… he seems to wish to inherit the title of Marquis of Ninguan.”

Gu Tingyu was gravely ill and beyond recovery — how long he would last was itself an open question, and it was no longer possible for him to produce an heir.

“Oh?” Old Madam’s interest was piqued, her gaze sharpening with keen curiosity. “What makes you think so?”

Minglan cradled a bowl of tea and brought it to Old Madam, choosing her words carefully: “Your granddaughter saw it with her own eyes and only then understood — his disharmony with the Gu family goes beyond ordinary friction; it could more accurately be described as ‘loathing.’ And yet of all the places in the capital, he chose to live this close? If he truly wished to sever ties with the Gu family and keep contact to a minimum, why live right next door? What reason is there that it had to be this particular location, granted by the Emperor?”

Old Madam nodded and took the teacup, gently skimming the tea with the lid: “There is logic in that.”

Minglan sat down beside Old Madam and frowned slightly: “What your granddaughter does not understand is this: I heard before the new year that the Emperor intended for him to inherit the title — and was repeatedly summoning the Xiangyang Marquis as well. Why then would he…?”

The words were not fully spoken, but Old Madam already understood. She smiled: “You mean that if he truly wished to inherit a title, would not Xiangyang Marquis Mansion be the more convenient choice — wealthier, and free of those troublesome relations. Is that your thought?”

Minglan nodded. In truth she simply found the Gu relatives exhausting to deal with.

“You are still young — you do not understand what is at play here.” Old Madam smiled faintly, patted her hand, and said with gentle warmth: “Think about it this way: if one had a stone above one’s head to deal with, which is easier to manage — a stepmother, or the formally recognized adoptive mother one enters a lineage through?”

Something clarified in Minglan’s mind, and she felt a dim, growing understanding.

A knowing, subtly layered light moved in Old Madam’s eyes as she smiled: “Your husband is the legitimate second son of the late Marquis of Ninguan himself. With his elder brother leaving no heir, it is Heaven’s natural order that he inherit — no debt of gratitude is owed to anyone, and all it requires is a single push from the Emperor. It is true that Xiangyang Marquis Mansion is currently the more prestigious of the two, while Ninguan Marquis Mansion has grown cold and quiet — but one cannot only look at the surface of things. The easier position now means the greater complications later.”

Minglan was greatly enlightened, and it all fell into place. Lady Qin was a stepmother — and, strictly speaking, Minglan’s own true mother-in-law was the late Lady Bai, already long departed. As long as propriety was observed in form, that was sufficient. But if Gu Tingye were to take the Xiangyang title, having entered that line as an outsider, every subsequent generation of Xiangyang elders and all the brothers of that clan would need to be treated generously and looked after carefully — otherwise people would speak of ingratitude, and the trouble would be unending.

Old Madam leaned gradually back against the heated platform, settling into ease: “Your husband, I imagine, is a man of unyielding character — one who above all things despises being controlled by others.”

Old Madam’s classic summation. Minglan nodded emphatically. This was absolutely right.

Old Madam glanced at her, then said suddenly: “With a man of this nature — remember first: do not push back against him head-on… ha, though, you could not push back against him in any case!” Minglan could only smile ruefully and sigh. Old Madam continued: “And furthermore — judging from several things he has done, he seems to be a clear-eyed man who does not suffer sand in his eyes. If you wish to do something, go to him directly and say so. None of this pretending compliance while acting otherwise; none of this hiding and concealing, playing at ‘virtue’ — that will only create a distance between husband and wife!”

Minglan lowered her eyes and nodded quietly. Nanny Cui, word travels fast with you.

Seeing Minglan’s expression, Old Madam knew she had not yet entirely taken it to heart, and so said it plainly, fixing her gaze on Minglan with a fierce seriousness in her tone: “Virtue — that is nothing but a clay figurine set up on a shelf, a tablet of Confucius to be bowed to with one’s lips. If you truly act by it, you will regret it for the rest of your life! …Listen well: your husband is your support for at least half your life ahead. Even if you do not love him — hold on to him! Do not let other women find a gap to slip through. Do not put on some pretense of noble aloofness. Even if a man has no wandering heart to begin with, you must have the ability to keep him close.” She seemed to have spoken with too much feeling and paused to draw breath; her lips held a bitter note as she said at last: “You — do not be like me.”

Minglan’s eyes filled with tears at once. She bowed her head against Old Madam’s knee and wept. For a long time now she had known that all of Old Madam’s teachings and guidance for her contained within them some measure of regret for her own past — that Old Madam’s longing for Minglan’s happiness was, in some part, also a form of hope placed in someone else on her own behalf.

Minglan stroked Old Madam’s aged and creased hand gently, and said in a soft voice: “Grandmother, when the teacher Master Zhuang taught history, the chapter your granddaughter loved best was The Records of Han Bai from the Former Jin Dynasty. General Han held a lone city with a thousand soldiers against an army of tens of thousands. Everyone urged him to surrender; he refused to yield. As the walls were about to fall, he placed his sword to his own throat, and said only: Schemes are in the hands of men; outcomes are in the hands of Heaven. Not to scheme is to not even fight for one’s life. Before the words had faded from the air, floodwaters burst from the mountain gorge above the enemy’s position, washing away more than half their forces. The danger resolved itself.”

Minglan’s voice gradually steadied and grew clear, each word deliberate: “Your granddaughter takes Grandmother’s teachings to heart and will live her days with care. Whether in fortune or in hardship, she will never grow lax, never grow arrogant, never grow haughty, never grow careless, and will not blame Heaven or others — nor will she give up lightly. Who knows? Perhaps Heaven will open its eyes, and your granddaughter may yet… find the warmth of spring.”