Qiu Niang returned to Kouixiang Garden with reddened eyes. Rong Jie’er was sleeping in the inner room. The moment Qiu Niang saw Hong Xiao, tears began streaming down her face. The two of them had been companions for many years and could be counted as sisters who had weathered hardships together, so they took each other’s hands and went to the side chamber to talk.

“I’ve made a laughingstock of myself in front of you, little sister,” Qiu Niang said, wiping her tears, filled with desolation. “It’s all my fault — I’ve caused the master to be the subject of gossip.”

Hong Xiao inwardly sneered, The only one being laughed at is clearly you, but her words were warm and soothing: “How can this be Sister’s fault? The master and Sister have shared affection since childhood! The master treats Sister differently from everyone else — the Madam simply doesn’t understand yet. Sister shouldn’t take it to heart. Didn’t Madam also say that the master never stops singing Sister’s praises even in Madam’s presence? That’s such a great honor.”

Qiu Niang sighed through her tears, and after a long while, she finally said: “I am already faded and past my prime — do you really think I would compete with Madam? I only wanted to see whether the master was faring well. Madam is still young, after all, and I worried that if she was careless in looking after him, the master might suffer — what would I do then?”

“Who could say otherwise? We have all waited so many years — how could we possibly harbor any treacherous thoughts? Madam is simply overthinking things.” Hong Xiao sighed along with her, accompanying Qiu Niang in weeping and lamenting for quite a while before they each returned to their own rooms.

“She’s gone?” A maidservant with her hair styled in double buns rose to her feet to greet Hong Xiao — one could see that her brows and eyes were bright and delicate, pretty and charming. After Hong Xiao entered the room, she went straight to draping herself across the chaise longue in a half-reclining position. “She’s gone back to copy scriptures. Where’s Wu’er?”

Jin Xi smiled and poured tea for Hong Xiao. “Where else would she be? Probably off somewhere idly chatting with people.”

“…As for this Miss Qiu,” Hong Xiao said with her eyes narrowed slightly, holding her teacup, a hint of amusement playing on her face, “one could say she’s foolish — and foolish she is, indeed. She actually couldn’t tell that the master today is nothing like the Second Young Master he once was, yet the moment she arrived at the estate she went straight to find Nanny Lai to ask about the layout of the place. And yet, if you say she’s clever, she does have a habit of playing dumb and feigning ignorance — putting on that honest and simple-minded air — and somehow she has managed to live here peacefully for all these years.”

Jin Xi said in a low voice, “That’s right. Otherwise our Miss would never have tolerated her staying.”

Hong Xiao’s expression turned sardonic. “Even in the past, I never saw the master being particularly fond of her. She merely relied on the fact that she had served him intimately since childhood, putting on the appearance of a loyal handmaid anxious for her master’s wellbeing, while the master kept her around out of old sentimental feelings. But so many years have passed — the times have long since changed! If she were smart, she ought to be rushing to curry favor with Madam right now. She still thinks it’s like the old days.”

Since Qiu Niang was not exactly a scholar, and she did not dare write carelessly, the copying inevitably came out rather labored and halting. Even with her brush flying across the paper, it still took two full days before she finished the punishment copy. On the appointed day she carried her completed work to pay her respects to Minglan, who offered her a few words of guidance about “watching her conduct.” By the time Minglan finished speaking, even she herself felt the whole affair was tiresome, and so the matter was considered closed.

The following day, Minglan finally understood why she had been feeling so irritable and out of sorts — it turned out that her monthly visitor had arrived.

Danju set up the small sand furnace as usual, boiled herbal tea with brown sugar, and poured it down Minglan’s throat. Xiaotao went to Nanny Ge’s place, where they stir-fried a bag of piping-hot salt, wrapped it carefully in several layers of oiled paper and cloth pouches, and then bundled it in a thick layer of velvet satin for Minglan to press against her abdomen.

For a full two days, Minglan lay listlessly on the soft couch, gazing from afar at the picturesque scenery framed by the window, her expression melancholy — like reeds by a lake swaying in the wind, her posture graceful and delicate… Though, it would have been even more fitting had she been holding a volume of poetry rather than an account ledger.

With her body unwell, she could make neither head nor tail of the account books. Minglan thought of another pressing matter: because of the recent disturbance caused by the rumors, Liao Yong’s wife had come to hint subtly to Minglan that the overall gist was — there were too many lonely, unmarried men and women in the household, which was not conducive to harmony and stability.

According to the wicked conventions of feudal indenture, the servants of Cheng Garden — regardless of whether they had parents or elder siblings — required the master’s approval for their marriages. Minglan gave her instructions: any servants who had family elders could each report their own marriage arrangements. As for the remaining few who had no one to look after them, Minglan had Danju bring in the registers, and together with Liao Yong’s wife’s explanations, she cross-referenced duties and individuals, and arranged matches according to the principle of optimal pairing of complementary strengths.

No sooner had she said a few words about matrimonial arrangements than Danju’s face flushed crimson, and she slipped away to hide. Xiaotao, on the other hand, was full of eager interest and wanted to continue listening, but she was sent off with two of Cuiwei’s sidelong glances.

“That girl! Still acts like a child,” said Cuiwei, shaking her head and sighing as she watched Xiaotao leave. She then turned to Minglan and said, “Madam, the others are all fine, but what about the few girls in our own quarters? Do you have a plan in mind?”

Minglan half-propped herself up, her spirits stirring a little. “I’ve already made some inquiries. Mr. Gongsun knows a few young men of modest means who seem to be decent prospects. The master also has a few capable military men under his command, and there are the sons of several senior stewards in the household — none of them submitted requests to be matched this time, so I am thinking of reserving them for the girls in our courtyard.”

Cuiwei found this amusing and gave a soft laugh. “Madam truly is different now. Ah…those girls are really lucky to have you…” As she said this, something seemed to occur to her, and she abruptly changed the subject, lowering her voice. “Madam, you should keep a closer eye on that girl Ruomei.”

“Oh? What’s the matter with her?” Minglan asked in surprise. Ruomei had always prided herself on her lofty airs and never liked to mix and frolic with the other maids. In order to show she was above suspicion, she would not even show her face whenever Gu Tingye was present.

Cuiwei hesitated for a moment but spoke nonetheless. “Come to think of it, Ruomei is the oldest among the girls in this room. I have seen her drifting toward the front courtyard several times, and she often mingles warmly with the maids and young manservants who wait upon the outer study. I suspect…she may have developed ideas.”

Minglan was startled. “Is it the scholarly clerks of the outer study she is interested in?”

Cuiwei said helplessly, “You know what Ruomei is like — she has always been fond of dabbling in poetry and ink. As for the men in the household itself…she likely doesn’t think much of them.” Seeing that Minglan looked a little dazed, she quickly added, “Never mind whether those men outside would be willing to take a maid as their wife — granting that favor is entirely Madam’s decision. But before that day comes, we absolutely cannot permit any secret liaisons! One wrong move, and the reputation of all the girls in this room — and Madam’s own reputation — could be ruined.”

Minglan was about to make a light-hearted remark, but seeing Cuiwei’s tense expression, she quickly nodded in earnest. “Although I think highly of them, they must still encounter the right sort of household. Very well — there are still a few years left, so we’ll watch the situation slowly. Go speak to Ruomei later, and also to Danju — that girl’s old habits are acting up again, aren’t they? They live right next door, so she must have known about Ruomei’s situation early on, but out of sisterly sentiment, she softened her heart and concealed it. I’ll speak to her about it later.”

Cuiwei’s expression grew slightly uncomfortable, and she gave a rueful smile. “Madam, as long as you know what’s going on in your heart, that’s enough. Ah…”

Mid-conversation, a voice rang out in the courtyard: “The master has returned!”

With a gust of wind lifting the curtain aside, Gu Tingye strode into the room with broad, confident steps, his head held high. Cuiwei gave a small curtsy, wished him well, and excused herself. Minglan made to rise, but was gently pressed back down. Gu Tingye, seeing that Minglan looked pale, said in a low voice, “You rest — don’t get up.”

Minglan did not insist and simply called Xia Zhu over to help him change his clothes. She leaned sideways against the couch, and noticing that the man’s brows were arched with evident good cheer, she smiled and asked, “You seem so happy, Master. Could it be that…?”

As Gu Tingye stood tall and upright, the deep red gemstones set in his tall purple-gold crown glittered brilliantly. His brocade robe and jade-studded belt made him appear all the more maturely distinguished and commanding in bearing. He turned his head and caught sight of Minglan, eyes wide and expectant, blinking brightly.

He immediately shot her a mock glare and laughed. “It’s not a promotion or a windfall!”

Minglan had been seen through. She smiled sheepishly and listlessly sank back onto the soft couch. Gu Tingye changed into a casual garment of slate blue silver-patterned thin crinkled satin, waved Xia Zhu away, and sat down beside Minglan. He reached over and felt the warming pouch against her abdomen, then asked, “Does it still hurt?”

Minglan drooped her soft little ears and shook her head. “I just have no energy.”

Gu Tingye gently stroked Minglan’s cheek, then slowly drew closer until their heads were resting side by side together. His skin had been lightly bronzed and warmed by the sun, faintly rough and scratchy with stubble, pressing against the delicate, cool softness of Minglan’s cheek in a gentle caress. After a long while, the husband and wife sighed in unison at exactly the same moment, and both opened their mouths simultaneously — yet what they said was diametrically opposed.

“Let’s wait a little longer before having a child.”

“Let’s have a child a little sooner.”

The words barely left their mouths before both of them stared at each other in stunned surprise, their gazes equally astonished and amused. Gu Tingye spoke first: “You silly girl — you should focus on recuperating properly first. What’s the rush to have a child? There are plenty of days ahead.”

Minglan flushed, a radiant blush spreading across the smooth whiteness of her skin like a smear of brilliant rouge: “That’s not it at all. People who have had children all say that once you’ve given birth, the monthly discomfort becomes much easier to bear.”

“Is that so?” Gu Tingye was rather doubtful. “Isn’t it said that getting pregnant too early can harm one’s health?”

“Who told you that?” Minglan laughed. “All the elders say the same thing — as long as one’s health is properly regulated and in good condition, it is fine to conceive.”

It should be said that although this man was quite vigorous in the bedroom, he was in certain respects very considerate. Since Minglan had begun following the health regimen outlined in Old Madam He’s notebook, she had gently proposed a request: could they observe a ceasefire for a few days each month, and ideally wait until two full courses of medicinal soup were completed before trying to conceive? When she raised this, Minglan had been a little uneasy — in this era, the prevailing belief was that the sooner one had children, the more blessed one was. Yet to her surprise, Gu Tingye agreed without a second word, and even repeatedly urged Minglan to take good care of her health.

“Being a widower once was quite enough — I’m counting on you to last me several more decades,” Gu Tingye had joked at the time.

Naturally, the considerate result of this arrangement was that during the remaining days, their battles were all the more fierce — fighting until the sky darkened and the earth spun, brimming with ardent passion.

Having heard Minglan’s words, Gu Tingye relaxed his furrowed brow slightly, kneading her small hands in his, and comforted her: “Just be careful of yourself. And while you’re out and about…” He paused, then added with great delight, “I once heard that some farming women in the villages can still give birth at the age of fifty.”

Minglan was thoroughly mortified. She mustered all her strength and gave the man’s arm a solid pinch — only to meet a wall of hard, solid muscle, which left her own fingers tingling with numbness. She feigned anger and muttered in a low, reproving tone: “Aren’t you the least bit ashamed?!”

The husband and wife teased each other for a while, then stared blankly at each other, suddenly having quite forgotten what topic they had originally been discussing. Minglan asked again, and the delight on Gu Tingye’s face returned in full: “Nanny Chang is coming tomorrow.”

“Bless the Buddha — she’s finally coming,” Minglan laughed, pressing her palms together in a gesture of prayer. “If Nanny hadn’t come soon, I would have had to go to her door myself.”

Ever since Gu Tingye’s return to the capital, Nanny Chang had brought her widowed daughter-in-law and grandchildren and moved from the outskirts of the capital to settle in Cat Ear Lane. Because Nanny Chang had lost a close family member and was observing a year of mourning with the zizhui rites, and there had been a month or two of mourning remaining right at the time of Gu Tingye’s wedding, she had kept herself away all this time out of fear of bringing ill omens upon the newlyweds.

“Nanny Chang is far too particular — there is no need for all these formalities.” Minglan had long held this Nanny Chang in the highest esteem, having heard her name praised again and again like the bark of an admiring dog.

Gu Tingye smiled. “Nanny grew up in the countryside and takes these things most seriously. She is stubborn by nature, and in any case there weren’t many days left, so it’s best to simply indulge her. If I haven’t returned to the house by the time she arrives tomorrow, do keep her for a while.”

Minglan smiled and agreed. The husband and wife leaned against each other, exchanging a few more private words, when Danju’s voice called from outside: “Miss Qiu has come.”

Gu Tingye gave a small start, and once again those dark, ink-thick brows drew together into a frown.

Minglan quickly pushed the man aside and straightened the clothing and hair that had been ruffled by their earlier closeness, then gave her reply: “Please invite her in.” At the same time, she made to climb down from the soft couch — only to be pressed back down again by Gu Tingye.

Qiu Niang arrived with a small bundle tucked under her arm, dressed in an autumn-fragrance-colored, belted gauze soft-lined jacket, her steps graceful and unhurried. Seeing Minglan half-sitting and half-lying on the soft couch with Gu Tingye seated upright beside her, hands resting on his knees, Qiu Niang quickly bowed her head and curtseyed to pay her respects. Minglan smiled and invited her to be seated.

“What brings you here?” Gu Tingye asked, masking his impatience.

Qiu Niang’s face was filled with gentle softness. She tilted her face slightly to the side and looked up at Gu Tingye, her voice tender: “I noticed the days have been growing warmer, and I remember the master has always found summer difficult to bear. I’ve made a few cool summer garments and robes for the master and brought them over. There are also a few small sachets — I’ve filled them with the aquilaria incense the master likes, along with pine resin and mugwort to repel insects.” As she spoke, she shook open the small bundle she was holding and gently pushed it forward. But Gu Tingye did not move a muscle, and Qiu Niang grew a little awkward.

Seeing that the atmosphere was turning uncomfortable, Minglan quickly stepped in to smooth things over: “Go and take it. I’ll look over the needlework later. Danju…” she added, “go check and see if the midday meal is ready.” The fewer people watching, the better.

Danju accepted the bundle and set it down quietly on the nearby side table, then excused herself respectfully and left.

Qiu Niang gazed at Gu Tingye’s composed and unreadable expression, and said softly, “Master…I…”

Gu Tingye simply looked at Qiu Niang. Minglan watched the handsome lines of his profile, his eyes deep in thought. He looked at Qiu Niang and said slowly, “Have you made any of these things for Rong Jie’er?”

Qiu Niang was momentarily stunned. “I…I was planning to make yours first, then make some for Rong Jie’er.”

“Since your return to the estate, have you made any needlework for Madam?” Gu Tingye asked again.

Qiu Niang immediately scrambled to her feet and knelt down before Minglan, saying in a flustered rush: “That was my oversight. These past few days I have been occupied with copying scriptures and only managed to make something for the master.”

Since there were no maids present, there was no one to help Qiu Niang to her feet, and Minglan could only smile gently and coax her: “It is nothing — looking after Rong Jie’er is what matters most. Please get up.”

But Qiu Niang did not dare to rise. Her knees shifted in the direction of Gu Tingye, and she opened her mouth as if to speak. Gu Tingye raised his hand to cut her off, and suddenly asked: “Did you come to pay your morning respects to Madam today?”

Qiu Niang answered at once: “Of course — how would I dare forget my duty?”

“Then why did you not present these items to Madam this morning?”

Hearing this question, Qiu Niang looked up in disbelief, her head jerking upward. She saw Gu Tingye’s gaze carrying reproach — and even a measure of veiled sarcasm. She opened and closed her mouth, unable to say a single word. Her eyes reddened, and it was clear she was about to cry.

The room fell into complete silence. Minglan felt utterly mortified. She very much wished she could slip away, but half her skirt was being sat upon by Gu Tingye, leaving her unable to budge. She could only tilt her head slightly to one side, pick up a copy of the Chronicles of the Mountains and Seas from beside the soft couch, and pretend to read.

“If you no longer wish to stay, I can settle a generous allowance on you and have Madam find you a good family, so that you may leave and marry properly,” Gu Tingye said, opening with exactly those words.

“No!” Qiu Niang let out a sharp cry, her face stricken with terror. She kowtowed repeatedly, tears streaming down like a cascade. “I have never harbored any disloyalty toward you. My feelings — my feelings…how could the master not know?! Even if I were to die this very moment — even if my body were to rot, and fester, and be burned to ashes — I would never, ever leave!”

Minglan was deeply uncomfortable in every inch of her body. A confession so anguished and resolute as this — she had never heard anything like it in either of her lives. Her scalp tingling, she could not help glancing sideways at the man beside her.

“Things in this world cannot always go according to your wishes,” said Gu Tingye, utterly unmoved. He seemed almost to have a trace of wistfulness about him; his gaze carried the weight of old memories, distant and vast with the passage of time. He continued slowly: “I know your feelings. I once thought you understood mine as well. It seems I was mistaken.”

Qiu Niang began to sob quietly. Minglan practically buried her face in the book.

Gu Tingye’s tone was grave, yet perfectly calm: “These past few days, you have been behaving without propriety — scrambling about, showing no sense of decorum, making a spectacle of yourself and resorting to petty tricks. Out of regard for the past, I have not said a single word. Could it be that you have truly come to see yourself as a proper mistress of this house, and have forgotten your own station?”

Qiu Niang’s lips trembled, a chill piercing straight to her heart. She no longer dared to look up at the man and quickly lowered her head. She had served Gu Tingye since childhood and knew his temperament well — fierce and unyielding by nature, and though he had grown considerably more composed over the years, that core had never changed. When he did not act, he did not act; but once he did, it was cutting to the bone.

This was also the first time Minglan had witnessed Gu Tingye speak his mind in rebuke — so calm, so composed, each word drawing blood. A gentle breeze and warm sunlight on the surface, yet beneath it, the veiled menace of a mountain storm gathering.

“You have followed me for many years and have always been loyal and thorough. The dignity and comfort that are rightly yours — I will not deprive you of any of it. And in years to come, there will always be someone to ensure you have a bowl of rice.” Gu Tingye grew ever more detached. “But you should also know to count your blessings. I have entrusted Rong Jie’er to you — you ought to know well enough what your duty toward her is, without my needing to instruct you. And if you are incapable, there are others who are.”

Qiu Niang knelt on the floor, holding back her tears, not daring to raise her head.

“You may go. Think carefully on your proper place.”

After Gu Tingye said this, Qiu Niang wiped her tears and kept her head bowed as she made to leave. When she reached the doorway, Gu Tingye suddenly called her back. Qiu Niang turned around, her face filled with desperate hope — only to hear Gu Tingye say, “In the future, if you have anything to present, take it directly to Madam.”

This was the final straw. Qiu Niang’s face instantly drained of all color, and she stumbled out.

The two people left in the room had nothing to say to each other. After a long silence, Minglan let out a long sigh: “Even if you had to rebuke her, you could have let me leave the room first. This way…where does that leave her dignity?” How dreadfully awkward.

Gu Tingye leaned back and lay down, his head resting on Minglan’s thigh, and said simply: “She grew too greedy.”

Minglan silently acknowledged this in her heart. Qiu Niang had mistakenly believed that the years of hardship shared in the past could be transformed into romantic love between a man and a woman. For a concubine kept in such a position, this was not merely greediness — it was also infuriating, and pitiable.

Gu Tingye may have seemed heartless, but in truth he was also acting for her own good. For a grown man to go through all the trouble of such earnest reasoning with a kept concubine — that, too, was a mark of his regard for old feelings. Compared to Baoyu, who had so indulged his maids that they were left utterly without restraint, only for those girls to come to tragic ends — this way seemed, on reflection, considerably better.

“Are you pitying her?” Gu Tingye asked, looking at Minglan softly.

Minglan nodded, then shook her head.

People are social creatures — comparison is what yields conclusions.

In the past, Minglan had always felt that her reincarnation was a bitter deal, that she lived a life exhausting beyond measure. But compared to the maids and manservants, and the destitute families who could barely afford to eat — she had actually fared quite well already. Qiu Niang was pitiful, to be sure, but compared to the many kept concubines who came to miserable ends, she was in fact quite fortunate — because her master, at the end of the day, had some measure of responsibility.

The Sheng family was already considered a house of accumulated good deeds. Sheng Changfeng could be counted as a sentimental man, yet when Ke’er died, she simply died — no one would ever reproach Changfeng for being heartless. The remaining kept concubines around Changfeng were equally adrift, their fates as uncertain as duckweed, entirely dependent on how the future mistress chose to deal with them.

As some remarkable person once said — in the third world, people have no love. This is a society of rigid hierarchies, and those at the bottom seem to have no right to pursue the luxury of tender feeling. Survival is always the first priority.

Seeing that Minglan was silent and her expression was somewhat peculiar, Gu Tingye asked again: “Are you angry?”

Minglan shook her head, then nodded.

Gu Tingye furrowed his brow, took hold of Minglan’s ear, and said in a low voice: “Say something.”

Minglan had no choice but to sigh and say: “Clearly the work is meant for the Minister to do on the Emperor’s behalf — yet a minor official keeps rushing ahead to take it all on himself, pouring all his heart into it. Would the Minister be pleased? He’d be lucky not to be dismissed and stripped of his post.” And for a kept concubine, to behave as though she cared more for and was more devoted to that man than the mistress herself was — that was simply asking to die.

Gu Tingye could not help bursting into laughter. “That is quite a fitting analogy.”

He thought for a moment, then could not resist saying: “Seeing how soft-hearted you are, I half expected you to be magnanimous and urge me to go to her room.”

Minglan immediately shook her head back and forth like a rattle-drum and asked in return: “If you were Wei Qing, would you have yielded the position of supreme commander to an aged general who had spent a lifetime in obscurity, like Li Guang?”

Gu Tingye deliberated for a moment and slowly shook his head: “No. And not only because it would be improper — the military merit was earned by me, one blade and one spear at a time. Why should I yield it to someone else? It wasn’t I who condemned him to a lifetime of being ‘never enfeoffed.'”

“There you have it — that is my position exactly,” said Minglan, clapping her hands and smiling brilliantly. “Firstly, it was not I who made Qiu Niang a kept concubine. Secondly, it was not I who made her wait for you. So tell me — I am to be married but once in this life to a single husband. On what grounds should I be expected to sacrifice my own man to compensate her?!”

It was as if thinking of one’s husband as one’s employer — what chief executive officer would ever tolerate an administrative assistant with hidden ulterior motives competing for favor with her right in front of the chairman? Please — have a little professional integrity.

Even in ancient times, one ought to maintain occupational ethics. If nothing else, at least pretend to be deeply attentive to the man’s wellbeing.

Gu Tingye sat up abruptly and stared wide-eyed at Minglan. Minglan looked back at him with an expression of perfect innocence. The two glared at each other for a long while — and then both burst into laughter at the same instant, laughing until their faces turned crimson. Gu Tingye collapsed heavily against Minglan and laughed into her shoulder, the trembling of his chest reverberating through her body. Their noses pressed against each other, warm breath moistening each other’s cheeks.

The man said in a low murmur: “That last thing you said — very well put.”

Minglan blinked. “Which part?”

Seeing that Gu Tingye’s eyes were narrowing ominously and he was about to go for her underarms to tickle her, she immediately cried out in a sweet, pleading voice for mercy. After a good deal of playful tussling, the two of them lay breathlessly on the couch together. When Minglan had caught her breath, she pressed her face to the man’s chest and said in a languid voice: “Except for one person — I would not let anyone make me give up my own husband.”

Gu Tingye smiled and asked: “Who could be so formidable?”

“You,” said Minglan, smiling ruefully with a sigh. If the man were to have a change of heart, there was truly nothing she could do about it — which was precisely why one ought to be prepared in advance, guard against trouble before it arose, and consider countermeasures early. Life, after all, had to go on.

The girl’s bright eyes were clear as an empty sky, her tone light and teasing — yet deep within her gaze lay a quiet, resigned helplessness.

Gu Tingye looked at her quietly.

Interlude: The Incense Burner Simmers Aquilaria Water; Remnant Flower Petals Float on the Jade Pool (Taiwanese Edition Published Interlude)

How many years does a woman have in her life? Qiu Niang knew only this: the years when she felt most helpless, most beautiful, most sweet, most terrified, and most despairing — all of those years had been spent in waiting.

The year she entered the household, she was just seven years old. Because she was quick with her hands and feet and skilled with a needle, she was soon assigned to serve in the courtyard of the second son of the Ningyu Marquis. It was not until many years later that Qiu Niang came to know his name. For a long stretch of time, he was simply her “Second Young Master” — though even knowing it was of no use, for she could not read. Unlike the newly arrived Madam Sheng, who not only knew how to read and write but was also a woman of broad learning — and her handwriting, people said, was called delicate regular script, graceful and lovely to behold.

When she first came, the Second Young Master was not yet ten years old, yet the courtyard was already full of beautiful girls. Because the provisions allotted to the marquis household were generous, flowers and face powders were never in short supply, and so every girl competed to outshine the others in their adornments — one head maidservant, six or seven second-rank maidservants, ten or so third-rank maidservants, plus errand-running junior girls, coarse-duty wives, and gatehouse matrons… a constellation of stars all circling a single master.

A pity that those coquettish glances were cast at a blind audience. The Second Young Master had loved riding and martial arts from a young age and had little interest in the company of girls.

None of that had anything to do with her. At that time, she was no more than an insignificant little maidservant, spending her days on petty chores like sweeping and mending. She might go ten or fifteen days without so much as a glimpse of her master. As for herself — neither striking in appearance nor quick of tongue — she was spared much attention, and she harbored no schemes of her own. She simply waited patiently, hoping that her family would come to take her home.

In the blink of an eye, several years passed. Still no word from her family. Yet in the meantime, her chest had begun to ache and swell. And then, on a certain noon in summer — as though fated by destiny — she was sweeping the courtyard with a broom when the Second Young Master came rushing back like a gust of wind.

Even several decades later, Qiu Niang still remembered clearly what he had looked like that day — a slender, upright young boy, dressed in a thick brocade archer’s robe of crimson and black, belted with a black-bordered embroidered sash inlaid with a jade buckle of twin dragons chasing a pearl, across his brow a finger-width band of gilded python silk, his dense black hair tied loosely back, his fine-featured face gleaming faintly with the heat of perspiration.

The young boy seemed a little puzzled — how strange, that at such a scorching midday hour, someone should still be out here sweeping. His bright, dark eyes swept briefly over her, and then he strode away with long, swift steps to go wash up and change inside.

Qiu Niang stood rooted to the spot, leaning on her broom in a daze. Her cheeks — which not even the fierce summer sun had managed to redden — suddenly burned as if on fire.

And so her girlhood began.

The Second Young Master was nothing like the usual scions of noble families. Radiating brilliance and spirit in every direction, he was so full of vitality, so commanding in bearing — on horseback he could draw a bow with divine accuracy, on the ground he could wield all eighteen kinds of weapons; unarmed, his fists flew swift as a squall and thunderous as a stampede. His laughter was free and unrestrained, his manner in all things swift and decisive. Even throughout the entire capital, the name of the second son of the Gu family rang out with resounding renown. Those refined young scholars who came as guests — the moment they stood beside him — were nothing more than pale, feeble eunuchs and commonplace mongrels.

All the girls in the courtyard watched their master with the hungry, predatory gaze of flies drawn to prey. How would Qiu Niang dare breathe a word of her feelings? She could only try to find as many tasks as possible to keep herself busy, so that she might steal a few more glances at him. And on those days when she happened to catch sight of him, her face would flush and her heart would race for the rest of the day.

In those days, her greatest wish was simply to catch a glimpse of the young man once each day. She would sleep and wait for dawn so she could go sweep — when dawn came, she would wait for the young man to leave the house — and once darkness fell, she would wait for the next day to come… And so, in this fashion, more years slipped by.

She gradually took on the appearance of a young woman — a full, rounded chest, a slender waist — yet when she gazed at her own plain features in the rhombus-shaped mirror, a wave of dejection would wash over her. Never mind those girls who were already in the Second Young Master’s inner rooms; even the attractive Qing Yuan, the coquettish Zhu Feng, and her bunkmate elder sister Huang Ying — all of them bloomed with lush and vivid beauty like peonies in full flower, impossible to look away from. Recognizing the reality of her situation, Qiu Niang grew ever more dutiful: she spoke little and listened much, avoided meddling in others’ affairs, kept her head down and worked hard, looking on in blank detachment as the girls fought each other openly and in secret with passionate ferocity.

Foolish as she was, she also knew this state of affairs was not right, and merely puzzled over why no one seemed to be managing it. Later, she heard from an elder woman who swept the grounds that the mistress of the house — oh, who at the time was still the Marquis’s wife — was by nature lenient and generous, and moreover, being a second wife, she seldom intervened to restrain the affairs of the Second Young Master’s courtyard. And so, as the second young master grew older day by day, the girls’ petty jealousies and crooked schemes evolved into genuinely vicious stratagems.

Purple Swallow — the girl who had served longest in the Second Young Master’s rooms and was most trusted by him — was found to be with child!

The old Marquis flew into a thunderous rage, berating even the mistress of the house, and immediately ordered the girl bound and personally interrogated her. Purple Swallow wept and pleaded her case, insisting she had not missed a single dose of the prescribed medicine and that she must have been sabotaged. One investigation led to another, and all manner of hidden ugliness below the surface began to unravel — until the old Marquis was so enraged he nearly stumbled, pointing at the Second Young Master and cursing him roundly as a “lecherous wastrel, utterly beyond redemption.”

The young boy stood there in a daze — at first bewildered and uncomprehending, then his face set in stubborn defiance. Qiu Niang hid in a corner, watching the hurt in his eyes and feeling a deep, aching tenderness for him. A young man of fourteen or fifteen, in the full fire of his blood, surrounded on all sides by beautiful women with bees and butterflies luring him in — of course he had blundered into a few entanglements without quite knowing how. No one had ever taught him, warned him, or explained to him the hidden workings of such matters. How was he supposed to know?

At the time, the old Marquis was in the midst of seeking a suitable marriage match for the Second Young Master. If he were to have an illegitimate child before the wedding, what decent family could he possibly be allied with by marriage?

The young man understood the gravity of the situation, yet he still stiffened his back and insisted on bearing responsibility, determined to protect Purple Swallow, saying outright that he would “stand alone for what he had done.” The old Marquis was furious beyond endurance and had him tied up and beaten severely. The mistress of the house stood beside them dabbing at her eyes, sobbing as she tried to intercede.

For some inexplicable reason, Qiu Niang suddenly found herself deeply disliking this mistress who only ever played the role of the good-natured peacemaker.

After Purple Swallow was given a draft to end the pregnancy and expelled from the household, the old Marquis personally dealt with the others, particularly dismissing many of the beautiful girls. For a time, the Second Young Master’s courtyard was nearly emptied by half. As the old Marquis made his way out, he happened to glance up and notice Qiu Niang quietly sweeping in the corner. Seeing that she was dutiful, honest, and altogether unremarkable in appearance, he pointed at her on a whim and had her assigned to serve inside the rooms. And so, as if in a dream, Qiu Niang came to be at the young man’s side.

The Second Young Master was a man of deep feeling. Even before his own wounds had healed, he sent people to inquire after Purple Swallow’s whereabouts. When he learned that she had been swiftly married off to a distant place, he fell into a long silence — and for a full several months refused to speak a word to the old Marquis. Qiu Niang knew herself to be tongue-tied and poor at offering comfort, so she simply served him with quiet, wholehearted care day after day. Over time, the young man began to trust and value her.

Although the old Marquis and the Second Young Master grew increasingly at odds, and the second young master’s reputation outside the household grew ever worse, Qiu Niang herself was in a state of dizzy happiness. Her beloved was before her eyes every single day, warm and gentle in his manner toward her, and when he returned from outings he would sometimes bring her little trinkets — though most of what he talked about, she could not follow.

Wei Qing, Huo Qubing — who were they? They sounded like remarkable figures, for the Second Young Master often spoke their names. Since cavalry was so formidable, why not simply put all the soldiers on horseback and be done with it? And what did “flanking maneuver” mean?

But none of that mattered. No matter how many beautiful and clever new girls arrived, no matter what pleasures or troubles the Second Young Master sought outside — as long as she could remain by his side and attend to him each day, she was content. Those were the most beautiful years of her life — until Man Niang appeared.

Qiu Niang knew he had set someone up outside. Because of this, father and son quarreled and came to blows countless times. Yet she never dared voice an opinion and could only stand silently to one side. Strangely, she did not feel much jealousy toward Man Niang. Although the Second Young Master had caused a tremendous upheaval for her sake, something in Qiu Niang’s instinct told her that the Second Young Master did not like this kept mistress outside as much as the rumors claimed.

In her view, the Second Young Master had failed to protect Purple Swallow in the past and carried that guilt like a wound on his heart. This time, he was determined to protect Man Niang — and on top of that, he was locked in a fierce contest of wills with the old Marquis. The more the old Marquis forbade something, the more he was going to do it… Though of course, there was probably some genuine affection as well.

Living in this constant state of fear and apprehension, more years slipped by. Then one day, a piece of news suddenly arrived — that kept mistress outside had already given birth to both a son and a daughter!

Qiu Niang was most unwilling to recall that period of time. The Second Young Master, who had once been so bright and full of vigorous spirit, gradually began to take on a shade of quiet, brooding darkness — as though resigning himself to ruin and deliberately going against the old Marquis at every turn, bringing out all manner of chaotic, reckless behavior.

Things grew worse and worse. Every night Qiu Niang prayed to the moon, begging for a kind and gentle mistress to come and marry the Second Young Master soon — for only then would everything be made right. Even if that kept mistress outside were to be brought into the household, it would not matter; once the new mistress gave birth to a legitimate heir, Qiu Niang might also manage to have a child of her own by then.

Day after day her prayers continued, and more years passed. The new mistress finally crossed the threshold. The second young mistress of the family, whose given name was Yan Hong — radiant and brilliant as a flame. Yet no more than a few days after she arrived, Qiu Niang found herself wishing she had never made that wish at all.

No more than a few short months as husband and wife — yet the Second Young Master and the second young mistress seemed to have quarreled through every argument that other couples might spend a lifetime working through. Yan Hong had a fierce temper, and the Second Young Master was no easy match for her either. Every few days came an explosion that sent the household into chaos. As for concubines and kept girls — Yan Hong made none of them her exception. Those days were like a walking nightmare for Qiu Niang. It was only her plain appearance and the fact that she had been assigned by the old Marquis himself that saved her, and she barely escaped unscathed.

Unable to endure life in the household any longer, the Second Young Master finally left home. Qiu Niang hid in her room, trembling with fear, not daring to ask about anything. Not long after, the second young mistress and the old Marquis died one after the other. During this time the Second Young Master returned for the mourning rites, but she failed to see him.

When Nanny Chang came to inquire about the arrangements for the various concubines and kept women, most of them assumed the Second Young Master would never return and requested to leave. Only she and Hong Xiao asked to remain. Nanny Chang arranged a small courtyard at the edge of the estate for them to live in on their own, and also charged them with raising the children.

Solitary as a nunnery, desolate as the silence of death — even little Rong Jie’er wore a gloomy expression all day long. Food and daily necessities were inevitably skimped and docked. And so they passed their days in this dull, joyless stupor, and in the blink of an eye, more years went by.

When word came that the Second Young Master was returning to the capital in glory, Qiu Niang was overcome with joy beyond what she could contain. The servants in the household caught wind of this too and immediately changed their demeanor, serving with a degree of attentiveness and care. Hong Xiao was thoroughly gratified by this turn. Qiu Niang, however, paid it no mind — all she hoped for was to see her master again soon.

Yet when she truly saw him, Qiu Niang found herself suddenly unable to step forward. The way he looked at her now carried none of the old intimacy — only a pure, distant concern and a sense of compensatory obligation. Her Second Young Master had completely changed.

Before her stood a man of steady, profound, and seasoned maturity. The sharpness that had once played at the corners of his mouth, the stubbornness that had lived in the arch of his brows — all of that was gone. In its place was a faint, sardonic detachment, a cool and composed silence, and an inscrutable inner calculation. Tempered by the grinding passage of years — like osmanthus wine slowly fermenting over time — the fragrance deep and rich, the man had grown ever more perfectly refined.

More importantly — standing at his side was a young and beautiful new mistress, slender as a weeping willow, her laughter gentle as a favoring breeze, gracious and kind in her manner. The two of them standing together made a perfectly matched pair — and this was precisely the mistress she had once prayed for, night after night.

Yet she could not feel happy. She knew not why, but the moment she set eyes on the new mistress, a jealousy she had never before stirred in all these decades rose unbidden and inexplicably sour within her.

Looking at the new mistress, beautiful as pure jade, Qiu Niang could not help touching her own cheek. She had already been a year or two older than the Second Young Master to begin with. Now she felt even more ashamed and dispirited. In the midst of her dejection she kept rallying herself inwardly — no, no, she had never been good-looking to begin with, and the Second Young Master had never minded.

The life that followed was nothing at all like what she had imagined. The master had no intention whatsoever of rekindling anything with her.

The master’s eyes and heart were entirely occupied by the new mistress. Whenever the two of them fell into conversation, they were utterly absorbed in each other, oblivious to those around them. Every time she witnessed such a scene, a fresh ache would settle in Qiu Niang’s chest.

The new mistress seemed to understand everything. When the master lamented over Li Mu, she would say, “With domestic affairs in disorder and the ruler without clear judgment, even the finest general is powerless to change the outcome.” When the master had just been promoted yet scorned his colleagues in the various departments as men who merely occupied their posts without doing their work, the new mistress would guide him with words like, “A general who does not understand statecraft is not a complete general” — soothing him until his heart calmed and his mind opened.

A wave of sourness swept through Qiu Niang. Did no one understand her heart? She had absolutely no intention of competing with the mistress for favor. If the mistress disliked it, she would willingly spend her entire life as nothing more than a kept concubine — she wanted nothing at all, only to remain near the Second Young Master.

And yet even these small, humble wishes could not be fulfilled.

To be rebuked openly by her beloved, to be scolded by the mistress until she had nowhere to hide her face, to have her dignity slapped away time and again — sitting before the rhombus-shaped mirror and looking at her own worn and roughened features, Qiu Niang finally let go of the last ember of hope in her heart. It was not that the new mistress could not make room for her. It was that in the Second Young Master’s heart, there was simply no place left for anyone else.

She was the most ordinary of women. Her one redeeming quality, if it could be called that, was her willingness to accept her fate.

When she had first come to the marquis household as a bondservant, her family had not come for her for a long, long time…

Chapter 132: A Startling Sight of Cannon Fodder (2)

…She had grieved for a while, and then it passed. In the courtyard, the girls competed in full bloom while the one she loved never noticed her — yet she found satisfaction in stealing a glimpse of him each day, and that, too, passed. When she finally came to be at her master’s side and learned that he had someone kept outside, she felt the loss for a while, and then that passed as well.

Truth be told, she had already resolved to spend her life as the leftover scraps and cold remains in loyal service to Gu Tingye. Yet as things now stood — clothed in fine garments and provided with good food, with no one in Cheng Garden daring to slight her, and with Rong Jie’er at her knee as a comfort — what more could she possibly ask for?

She would raise Rong Jie’er well. In just a few years, it would be time to start thinking about finding her a husband’s family.

A few more years and Rong Jie’er would be of age to marry and leave the household. A few more years after that, and she would likely be holding a grandchild…

Let it be so.