That night, the two of them talked for a long while, until the hour grew late and the dew heavy, before they finally settled to sleep.
Minglan slept with a heavy heart — even in her dreams she could have beaten her chest in grief. Gu Tingye, for his part, did not make much of a disturbance; he simply held her and fell into a deep sleep. Minglan speculated privately that having just revisited the memory of his departed mother, he was probably too embarrassed to do anything further.
The man’s body was warm as a furnace; he practically wrapped Minglan within his arms, and she lay there as if sleeping against a stove. Before long she was sweating all over. Half-asleep, she tried to kick off the covers, but managed only to hurt her toes. In her dazed state she made small sounds of “my toes hurt,” and then felt a large hand with a slight callus reach over and begin kneading her plump little toes. At first the kneading did indeed soothe the pain, but gradually the nature of it shifted. That large hand began tracing slowly upward along the smooth curve of her calf. Minglan twisted her waist trying to shake it off. She very much wanted to say “think of your poor departed mother,” but lacked the nerve for that, so instead she said: “You have early court tomorrow.”
The man seemed to pause, then shifted with evident discomfort and held Minglan all the tighter, rubbing against her for several long moments.
How much time passed after that, she did not know. The sky was just beginning to lighten with a faint color of dawn when Minglan, eyes barely half-open, lay staring vacantly at the bed curtain and reached out to feel beside her — the space was cold and empty. She startled awake with a light cry: “…Where is the master?”
The thin silk water-red curtain threaded with golden mist was lifted, and Danju’s gently smiling face appeared: “Waiting for you? The master left long ago! He has likely already reached the morning court by now.”
Minglan sat at the head of the bed in a somewhat stupefied daze. The morning court session began at the fourth quarter of the hour of Yin. Accounting for the journey, Gu Tingye had probably risen after no more than two hours of sleep. No wonder he had settled down so easily last night. Being an official in ancient times truly was no small hardship.
“Who attended the master for his morning grooming?” Minglan’s voice was still somewhat distant and floating.
“We also rose a little late. Fortunately, those two — Xia He and the other — still remembered. Afterward, you ought to draw up a roster so they can take turns attending the master for the early court.” Danju glanced sidelong at Minglan’s form, half-buried in brocaded silks — her bare shoulders, on which the marks from before had not yet faded while new ones had already appeared, a stretch of bruised and ambiguous blue-purple; around her neck hung only a single slender cord of deep red, knotted like a delicate wishful knot, beneath which she wore a pale yellow stomacher embroidered with sage-green iris blossoms.
Danju saw that the circles under Minglan’s eyes were still dark, and felt equal parts vexed and tender. She took up a white cotton under-robe and draped it around Minglan’s shoulders.
Minglan sat vacantly as Danju helped her down from the bed, then suddenly remembered something. She shook herself free of Danju, padded barefoot on the thick carpet and trotted over to check the water clock — oh? Only the first quarter of the hour of Mao.
Minglan stood there in a vacant daze. The situation was peculiar: there was no one in this household she needed to pay morning respects to, no roster she needed to appear on, and her husband had already gone to work. Did that not mean… she could sleep a little more?
With that thought, she made a straight line back to the bed, raised one foot with a wiggle of her toes, flipped back the covers, and dove right back in.
This sequence of movements was all too familiar to Danju. She hurriedly pulled Minglan back out, half-scolding in a low voice: “Young Lady — you mustn’t sleep any more. You have so many things to do today! Just a little while ago a servant woman came with a message from the front — she said the maids, wives, and servants have all gathered in the main hall waiting for your instructions. If you go back to sleep… if you go back to sleep, I’ll call for Nanny Cui!”
Minglan hauled herself up in painful resignation. She soaked in the large bathing tub for a good while before feeling something close to restored. The soft amber glow of the goat-horn palace lanterns inside the room gradually dimmed as the sky outside brightened. Minglan was seated before the dressing table, bidding Danju arrange her hair and makeup, when Xiaotao came in to inform her: “The head housekeeper Nanny Lai and Nanny Liao Yong’s wife are here.”
“Show them in.” Minglan said lightly. “Danju — I’m not going out today; just a neat bun will do. Leave it loose at the sides; I don’t want it pulling tight at my temples.”
Danju’s skill with hair was something she had learned from Nanny Fang herself, refined through ten years of attending Minglan each morning until it was second nature. She set to work briskly, and with nimble, efficient strokes wound the bun into place. The remaining hair she braided fine and coiled into several small floral knots piled at the base of the bun, then slowly pinned in small pearl flowers and golden-bead hairpins.
Before long, a stout, round-faced middle-aged woman of short build came in, along with a lean woman of somewhat dark complexion. Both wore smiles as they curtsied to Minglan, their posture very deferential. Minglan dipped her head slightly: “Nanny Lai, and Nanny Liao Yong.”
Only then did both women rise. Nanny Lai spoke first, smiling: “Greetings to you, Madam, and how are you feeling today? We ought to have paid our respects much sooner, but we did not wish to disturb you these past few days while you were occupied. Yesterday the master gave instructions that today Madam would be reviewing the household servants.”
Minglan smiled pleasantly, in a rather agreeable manner: “Well enough. Is everyone here?”
“Since it is Madam’s first time giving instructions, everyone rose early to be ready and waiting.” Nanny Lai smiled with great deference. “I wondered if…”
Minglan glanced at the water clock beside her. “Let us meet in Zhaohui Hall in half an hour. Have the household staff divided into groups.”
Nanny Lai paused. At that moment, the wife of Liao Yong raised her head and asked with careful precision: “May I ask, Madam — how would you like them divided? By their duties, or by household?”
Minglan gave her an approving glance. “By duties — those working the same duty are to stand together.”
Seeing that Nanny Lai seemed about to speak, Minglan turned to her and said first: “Nanny Lai, you were serving under the Madam originally — you shall take the lead. Those who have come from the Ningyuan Marquis’s household are to stand separately.”
Nanny Lai managed a strained smile: “We are all one family — why make such a division? Before leaving, the Madam specifically told us that you have the gentlest of temperaments, and bade us serve you well.”
Minglan slowly turned her head from the dressing table and regarded Nanny Lai steadily. The look went on long enough that Nanny Lai’s heart began to quail. After a moment, a faint cool smile settled at the corner of Minglan’s lips, and she said with an icy politeness: “I say what is to be done; you do it.” She offered not a single word of explanation.
Nanny Liao Yong’s wife was visibly taken aback. She stole a swift glance at Minglan, then lowered her head. Nanny Lai looked at Minglan’s face — beautiful as snow — and felt, without knowing why, a surge of instinctive deference. She lowered her head and complied.
The two women left Jiaxi Residence. Once outside, they smiled their farewells to each other and went off in two separate directions.
Nanny Liao Yong’s wife was young, with a quick step, and she passed rapidly through the corridor and out of the passageway. On the other side a group of servant women and wives were waiting; the moment they saw her, they swarmed around her, steering her into a corner, and began bombarding her with questions from all sides.
“What sort of person is Madam?”
“Does she have a pleasant temperament?”…
Nanny Liao Yong’s wife said in a low, measured voice: “Impossible to tell from the outside. Such a young woman, delicate as a flower in bloom — and yet what a commanding presence! Just now Nanny Lai walked right into a rebuff. You’d all better behave yourselves and not make trouble for nothing.”
On the other side, Nanny Lai had returned to the servants’ quarters courtyard. To those who asked her questions, she said only one weighted sentence: “She’s a formidable one, that one!”
…
Minglan sat alone in the right side room to eat her morning meal. As she picked lightly at the fried cakes — not particularly to her taste — she slowly recalled what she had looked over the night before. She would set the accounts aside for now; people first. Having gone through the name registers, her mind quickly organized what she had gathered.
The Commander’s mansion held a total of sixty-two servants and staff, which was actually rather few for an estate of this size.
These people could be broadly sorted into three groups. The first were those Gu Tingye had purchased from outside when he established the household — they had no deep roots or connections, but some might already have attached themselves to one faction or another. The second were those bestowed by the Emperor — mostly slaves from the households of convicted officials, and if they were dangerous, among them might be concealed one or two former young ladies or masters of disgraced families; those warranted careful attention. The third group were the four households sent over from the Ningyuan Marquis’s estate: two households sent by the Madam, and one each from the Fourth Master and the Fifth Master of the household.
Oh — and of course, the people who had come as part of her own dowry.
Breakfast finished, Minglan tidied her appearance briefly. She was dressed in a casual goose-yellow robe with green calyx-plum blossoms branching across the fabric, paired over it with a gauzy robe in a smoky, pale willow hue. A fresh and bright ensemble. With a small retinue of maids guiding her, she made her way to Zhaohui Hall.
By now the morning light was brilliant. The latticed panels on all four sides had been thrown open, and four large hanging scrolls adorned the east and west walls. On the north wall hung a plaque bearing the Emperor’s personal inscription and imperial seal. Beneath it stood a gleaming rosewood table of the Eight Immortals style, flanked on either side by large rosewood chairs with armrests. Farther down, two rows of low-backed wide chairs were set out in neat lines, with a small cloud-and-bat-carved square stand placed between every two chairs. The floor was smoothed flagstone polished to a bright sheen, with a deep red short-pile carpet laid out across the center.
A magnificent main hall of the estate! Imposing in scale, majestic in bearing, resplendent and full of grandeur.
Minglan looked at the high-backed rosewood chair and reflected privately that a seat like this would probably carry more gravity if someone of Sheng Lao’s age were sitting in it. Still, she was the mistress of this household now — and with no one else to sit there, the position fell to her.
She stepped forward with composed strides and took her seat. A maidservant was already waiting to one side holding a tea tray and stepped forward to serve the tea and pay her respects. Minglan gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, then looked up and out. Below the hall’s threshold and spreading down from the steps, people stood packed close together, divided clearly into several distinct groups — some groups standing in crisp, orderly lines, others loose and scattered.
Nanny Liao Yong’s wife stepped forward, bowed her head respectfully, and reported: “Madam, all the members of the household are present. Four have been left to watch the front gate, but even those from the kitchen have come.”
Minglan was well pleased by this brisk, no-nonsense style. She gave an approving nod.
Seemingly encouraged, Nanny Liao Yong’s wife pointed at the various rows of people outside and gave a brief introduction: “These are the ones responsible for sweeping and cleaning… these are the needlework staff, these are the purchasing staff, these are the guard-courtyard staff, these are the…” After a lengthy introduction, she pointed to a group of young girls standing at the edge: “These several have no settled duties yet. Nanny Chang said to wait until Madam arrived, so they could be properly trained in proper conduct and then put to use. For now they’re helping out with miscellaneous tasks.”
The small group of girls shrank together, stealing glances at Minglan. When they saw Minglan’s clear, water-bright eyes look their way, they immediately lowered their heads and stood straight.
Minglan followed Nanny Liao Yong’s wife’s gesture, surveying each group in turn. She noted that the Emperor’s arrangements had been reasonably sound — most of the bestowed servants were young and able-bodied, with none who appeared particularly aged or decrepit; the girls also looked fresh-faced and lively. Minglan quietly took note of which groups stood with order and which stood in disarray, and then identified their leaders.
Finally, Nanny Liao Yong’s wife hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice and said: “There is also the young lady Fengxian, in the side courtyard at the back — the Lingding Pavillion. The two senior maids at her side are not part of the household staff, so… they did not come.”
Minglan frowned slightly. “What is that courtyard actually called?”
Nanny Liao Yong’s wife responded quickly: “It was originally called the Jingfei Pavilion, but the young lady Fengxian renamed it Lingding Pavilion. The master never bothered to take notice, so everyone just followed along and called it that.”
Minglan made no comment, only looked at her with a slight smile. Nanny Liao Yong’s wife felt a sudden flutter in her chest and lowered her head to step back. Minglan thought to herself in quiet amusement: this young lady Fengxian was apparently rather proud by nature — not only had she made no effort to cultivate goodwill among the staff, she had managed to draw considerable displeasure.
Minglan then turned to look at Nanny Lai. Standing on the steps by the side entrance was a cluster of people noticeably better-dressed than the rest. Nanny Lai stepped forward and made the introductions with a smile: the Lai household and the Hua household had been sent by the Madam; the Tian household had been sent by the Fourth Master’s branch, and the Diao household by the Fifth Master’s branch.
When the introductions were complete, the assembled crowd bowed down in unison before Minglan, kotowing and paying their respects aloud in one voice.
Such a large and formal scene of bowing and calling out together — Minglan was not entirely accustomed to it, but she made a considerable effort to compose herself. She acknowledged them with a dignified nod and bade them rise, then set down her teacup lightly, folded her hands at ease on her lap, and said in a clear, pleasant voice: “The master once told me that Zhaohui Hall is not to be opened lightly — only during festivals or when distinguished guests call. So I thought: today is the first time I am meeting all of you, which I would say is a notable occasion. So I have taken the liberty of opening this hall, and it serves as our formal introduction.”
The responses from the people below were varied — some were moved, some visibly pleased, some puzzled, and some were wearing smiles that did not quite reach their eyes.
Minglan took it all in, then continued to smile: “From here on, we are our own people. That said — I do not yet know any of you. So today I shall say nothing else; I simply ask that you let me become better acquainted with each of you.”
At these words, the people gathered below wore looks of general confusion, not understanding what was meant.
Minglan did not explain. She only waved a hand toward the back. Danju, who had prepared everything in advance, had a small table brought and set up in the hall, equipped with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Ruomei stepped forward and sat to take down notes, while Danju stood by her side and Xia Zhu approached the table shyly.
Danju smiled gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll ask you a few things: how old are you, and where were you born?”
Xia Zhu looked startled. She answered woodenly: “Ten. From… Tun Village — Tun Village to the west of Tongzhou.”
“How many people in your family? What do they do?”
“Father, mother, grandmother, an elder brother, two elder sisters, and me — I’m the youngest. We’re all farming folk.”
“How did you come to be in the household?”
Xia Zhu glanced at Minglan. Minglan nodded to her warmly. Thus encouraged, the girl gathered her courage and said: “When I was ten, there was a long drought — the fields did poorly, and my brothers needed wives. Father found a broker and sold us three sisters to go into service. I was lucky, and ended up here. There’s good food every day!”
There were faint, scattered snickers from those below. Minglan swept one cool glance across the room and the sound ceased completely; everyone stood in orderly silence. Ruomei recorded what was said with swift, flying strokes, and the room was filled only with the soft whisper of brush on paper.
“And after that?” Danju asked gently.
Xia Zhu gradually grew bolder. “After that, Nanny Chang chose me, taught me proper conduct for about half a year, and then put me to work inside the rooms.” Facing Danju and the others, Xia Zhu felt a natural sense of shyness — rather like a junior high school student looking at postgraduates with reverent envy.
Then Ruomei set down her brush and, expressionlessly, said: “Come and press your fingerprint here. If it is found later that you have deceived the household, this will serve as evidence, and you will have no one to blame.”
“I won’t, I won’t!” Xia Zhu shook her head repeatedly, and quickly pressed her fingerprint.
Minglan smiled and said: “Good. You did very well. Come stand over here by me.”
Xia Zhu let out a breath of relief, as one given a reprieve, and trotted over to stand beside Minglan. Those gathered below had by now gradually grasped what was happening. Some faces had gone pale; others showed uncertainty; a few looked as though they were about to object.
Minglan paid no attention to any of them, and instead looked toward Nanny Lai’s group. She then crooked a finger at a pretty young woman and beckoned: “You there — yes, you — come forward.”
The young woman had arching brows and large eyes, a slender waist and a full figure, lovely and alluring, and was quite striking in appearance. She shot a wary glance at a middle-aged woman beside her, then took a deep breath and stepped forward. Danju welcomed her with a warm, full smile. But the girl seemed rather bold — she showed no shyness, and her eyes drifted frequently toward Minglan. Luzhi found this irritating. She walked forward and moved Danju aside, then turned with a smile: “Madam, shall I question this older sister?”
Minglan smiled and nodded, and bid Qinsang come up and relieve Ruomei.
Before Luzhi had even opened her mouth, the girl spoke up of her own accord, all smiles: “I am called Mingyue, and I—”
“That name will not do!” Luzhi cut her off sharply. “That name conflicts with Madam’s. Go back and have your mother give you a new one — drop the first character!”
Mingyue flushed red at once, and shot a glance back at a servant woman standing near Nanny Lai, her expression briefly flickering with resentment. Luzhi ignored her and continued directly with the questioning.
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen and a half.”
“Were you born into service here, or bought from outside?”
“Born into service!” Mingyue answered with a trace of pride. “My mother is Nanny Diao — she was originally part of the Fifth Master’s household, and my father is—”
Luzhi cut her off again. “Are they in this household?”
“Of course!” Mingyue replied proudly, turning to point. The servant woman beside Nanny Lai and a middle-aged man standing behind her both stepped forward, bowing and nodding.
“Then there’s no need to go on about them. When their turn comes, it will all come out.” Luzhi’s tone could have belonged to a magistrate. “Any other family members? Where are they now?”
“There are.” Mingyue bit her lip. “One elder sister, and two elder brothers. My sister attends Miss Ling. My brothers… don’t have positions yet; they’re waiting for the Second Master and Second Madam to give them assignments.”
Qinsang was recording everything with a grave expression. Luzhi showed no change of expression whatsoever. “So you did not come here as a complete family unit. Very well — have you held any duties before?”
Mingyue replied with a confident air: “I was originally selected to attend Miss Hui—”
“What rank of maid?” Luzhi cut in, as she had by now grown entirely accustomed to doing.
Mingyue looked slightly embarrassed. “…Third rank. But I was often close to the young lady’s side—”
“How old were you when you entered service?”
“Ten… ten years old. But I—”
“So you have only served for one or two years, in other words. When were you promoted to third rank?”
“…About… half a year ago. But Master Tingyang often praised me and said—”
“Can you read?”
“Some…”
“How much, precisely? Speak clearly! Have you read the Thousand Character Classic? What about the Three-Character Classic?”
“…I’ve read half the Three-Character Classic; the rest I haven’t…” Mingyue looked at Qinsang writing swiftly beside her, and then at Ruomei before her, and her face turned as red as pig’s blood.
“During this time, have you received any rewards? Silver? Jewelry? Clothing?”
“Yes!” Mingyue’s face was flushed scarlet. “The First Young Mistress gave me many new outfits, saying she wanted me to come and serve the Second Madam and Second Master well, and she praised me and said—”
“Have you received any punishments? Scoldings? A beating from the board? For what reason?”
“Absolutely not!”
“Are you certain?” Luzhi’s voice was cold. “This is going on record with a fingerprint. A small mistake made before doesn’t matter — you’re starting fresh here. But if you tell a lie at your very first meeting with Madam, then you cannot be used at all.”
Mingyue’s expression grew flustered. Under the eyes of so many people, she looked back several times toward Nanny Diao, her color shifting from red to ashen white, before finally saying in a voice barely louder than a mosquito’s hum: “I was only scolded a few times by the First Young Mistress — for damaging something of Miss Hui’s. Nothing else…”
“That’s all!” Luzhi clapped her hands, signaling the questioning complete.
Mingyue, with an expression of utter misery, pressed her fingerprint and retreated slowly. In her eyes, tears seemed to hover on the edge of spilling; as soon as she was back beside Nanny Diao, she buried herself in the older woman’s arms and sobbed quietly.
Minglan gave Luzhi a nod of satisfaction. She had given her instructions in advance: with so many people in the household, if each one told a long story, the questioning would go on until midnight. The guiding principle for this round was that events should be stated clearly and precisely, personal history should be made plain, and all sympathetic circumstances or personal hardships should be temporarily set aside — to be returned to if needed.
At that moment, the corner of Minglan’s eye caught a rather familiar figure standing at the edge of the hall. She lowered her head in thought for a moment, then suppressed a quiet smile to herself.
With these two people questioned, the rest of those assembled had by now fully understood Minglan’s intent. Some showed indifference; others were visibly indignant; some shifted their eyes with a faintly furtive air. All in all, a low buzz of murmuring had begun to ripple through the crowd.
Minglan judged that things had gone on long enough. She rose to her feet, and the crowd fell instantly silent. She smiled pleasantly and said: “You’ve all seen how this is done. Most of you will be put to use in due course, and to put someone to proper use, one must understand their abilities — what duties you have held before, and how you performed in them. Only in that way can each of you make the most of your talents, is that not so?”
At these words, most of the crowd gradually settled, and many faces relaxed into something calm — especially Nanny Liao Yong’s wife and the servant women around her, who actually felt that this method was more advantageous for those who had come in from outside.
Nanny Liao Yong’s wife stepped forward and said in a clear voice: “Madam is absolutely right! This method is both sensible and efficient. Madam didn’t know any of us to begin with — rather than have us all feeling each other out through indirect and uncertain means, isn’t it far better to do it this openly and clearly?”
Those on Nanny Lai’s side looked somewhat displeased, but dared not argue at this moment; they lowered their heads and exchanged glances.
Minglan gave Nanny Liao Yong’s wife a faint, pleased smile, then stepped forward a few paces and stood above the assembled crowd. Her tone remained mild: “Once this is done, I will proceed to arrange the household staff assignments. Before that, I must say one thing. In my view, the relationship between a mistress and her servants rests above all on one word: honesty. We will be living side by side for a long time; mutual respect between those above and below is how it should be. I ask only that all of you be clear-headed in this regard. A person found guilty of ‘deception’ cannot be kept on in the Gu household. I say this plainly first, so it is understood.”
The young mistress stood composedly above the assembled crowd — beautiful and dignified, speaking in measured, unhurried tones, every inch the picture of gentle grace. And yet not a single soul among those gathered dared to take her lightly.
As for the people who had come from Nanny Lai’s group: from the moment they arrived, they had intended to take hold of household affairs and authority. But first they had encountered Gu Tingye, who was like a living devil — black-faced every day, forbidding them to involve themselves in anything. When the Madam pushed the matter and pressed for some concession, he had stood before the entire household and said in sharp, stern tones that all internal affairs of the household were to be arranged by the mistress — but at that point there was no mistress yet!
So they had waited and waited, until at last Minglan arrived. They had been counting on her being young and unknowing, and on the newlywed bride being too thin-skinned to be difficult; they had planned to use the prestige of the Gu family elders to press their demands and have things settled in their favor with a few words. Instead, Minglan had shut herself in her rooms for two days before emerging — and when she emerged, rather than dividing up assignments, she had opened with this “background check.”
Nanny Lai’s expression shifted through several colors. At last she could contain herself no longer and stepped forward. In a loud voice she made her objection: “Madam has thought of everything, and for those who have come from outside it is of course proper to make inquiries. But as for us — we are servants who have served the Gu family for generations! Why put us through this? If there is anything Madam does not understand, she may go and ask the Madam — or the Fourth Master and Fifth Master!”
Minglan let the smile leave her face. She simply looked at Nanny Lai with a cool, clear gaze, within which a faint chill lay quietly coiled. Nanny Lai felt a slow dampness begin to bead at her temples. She truly could not understand how a girl barely past ten could look at a person and inspire such a sense of authority.
A hush fell over the hall. Everyone was watching and waiting.
Minglan held her eyes on Nanny Lai and said slowly: “Nanny Lai, this is the second time today that you have contradicted me.”
Nanny Lai went immediately to her knees, her voice trembling: “This old servant would not dare. I was only offering a reminder to Madam.”
Minglan said coolly: “My understanding was that the elders sent you here to be of assistance — not to serve as my ancestors.”
Nanny Lai’s back went cold with perspiration. She repeated hurriedly: “This servant does not dare, this servant does not dare…”
Minglan narrowed her eyes very slightly and spoke with slow, deliberate care, her voice carrying a kind of iced sweetness: “Nanny Lai — when you contradicted me this morning, what did I say to you?”
Nanny Lai looked up. Her eyes flinched. She opened her mouth and could not bring herself to speak. Minglan smiled, lowered her voice, and added softly: “Don’t say you’ve forgotten. With such a poor memory for so brief a time, you’d be better off going home to rest.”
Nanny Lai startled as if struck, and immediately said: “Madam said… Madam said… whatever Madam says, we are to do accordingly!”
Minglan smiled brilliantly — her dimples appeared, and she was radiantly lovely: “Nanny Lai has such an excellent memory.” Then she let the smile fade and said mildly: “Next time, be sure you don’t forget again.”
Nanny Lai knocked her head to the floor repeatedly as she retreated. By the time she rose, she was drenched in sweat from head to toe.
Minglan seemed slightly tired. She said with a faint air of languor: “Nanny Liao Yong’s wife — tell me, who holds the highest position and greatest honor in this household?”
“Why, naturally, the master.” Nanny Liao Yong’s wife answered at once.
Minglan asked again: “And who am I?”
Nanny Liao Yong’s wife called out clearly: “You are the mistress of this household!”
“…Very good.” A faint expression of mild weariness drifted over Minglan’s face. She settled back into the tall-backed chair at the head of the room, lifted her teacup and sipped. “Anyone who cannot remember this single point has no place being kept on in this household.”
At that, who among those present would have dared to say another word? Danju, Luzhi, and the others felt their hearts leap with joy and a fierce, satisfied pride. They had been worried all along — Minglan was the daughter of a concubine, only of the fourth rank, coming into a household of such high standing. Would she be bullied? Would she be looked down upon? Even they had felt a tremor of anxiety within.
And yet Minglan’s heart was iron; she showed not a trace of fear. Her expression utterly composed, her smile effortless, her rebukes light — she hadn’t even raised her voice, hadn’t needed so much as a dozen extra words to bring the entire room to heel. They could not help but look at her with shining eyes.
One by one, the staff stepped forward for their turn to be questioned. The crowd outside the hall gradually thinned out. Minglan kept Xiaotao and Xia Zhu beside her in attendance, along with several steward-accountants and a few errand-boys who stood at the ready in the hall.
Minglan sat in her chair with an air of languid ease, then turned her head and said quietly: “Counselor Gongsun — you’ve had a good look, I trust.”
A middle-aged scholar in a plain blue robe and long gown, who had been standing in the corner of the hall, now emerged at his leisure and walked toward Minglan. He made a deep bow with hands folded, bending at the waist, and said in a low voice: “A wanderer’s discourtesy — my respects to Madam.”
Minglan rose and returned the courtesy with a proper bow, then invited Gongsun Baishi to take a seat in the first chair on the right.
“Why does Madam do this?” Gongsun Baishi lifted his teacup, and his smile carried a hint of shrewd amusement. “I had thought that Madam would be assigning duties today.”
Minglan regarded him for a moment before speaking slowly: “When I was small, I heard a little story. In ancient times there was an emperor who was not foolish — but he had a court full of muddleheaded and crafty officials. When the Emperor simply wanted to select two beautiful women, those below launched a great search for beauties across the entire realm, stirring the people to resentment. When the Emperor simply wanted to build a small garden, those below scraped silver from across the country, driving the people to ruin. Within a few years, the dynasty fell. When the Emperor was beheaded, he still felt deeply wronged.”
Gongsun Baishi regarded her with keen interest, waiting for her to continue. Minglan went on: “From ancient times to now, how many things have been undone by the four words ‘wrong person for the task?’ The one above says east, and those below go west. And so — if one wishes to manage affairs, one must first manage people. No matter what the task, if there is no trustworthy, suitable person to carry it out, even the finest plan is useless.”
Minglan turned her gaze toward the courtyard outside, her expression at ease: “If I am to put them to use, I must at least know what manner of people they are.” Managing any enterprise required a thorough and reliable account of its people. And if any of them dared to lie, she would have grounds to have them removed.
Gongsun Baishi’s expression grew gradually more serious. He looked at Minglan for a long moment in silence, then gave a respectful bow and said quietly: “The Commander is most fortunate — to have taken such a woman to wife.”
…