The firecrackers rang out in thunderous peals, and plum branches were heaped with snow. The capital above and below was steeped in joyful celebration. The New Year’s Eve banquet of Marquis Ningyuan’s estate in the Chongde reign year had an atmosphere that was quite particularly distinctive. Looking over the table full of delicate New Year dishes, the Old Madam said with a touch of wistfulness: “Ah — our branch of the family is truly a little thin in numbers. Look at your Fourth Uncle and Fifth Uncle’s households — the grandchildren and granddaughters alone could fill two tables.”

Gu Tingcan turned her head back from gazing out the window — her neck slender and graceful as a white swan gliding on a lake — her expression cool and remote: “How true — in other years there was such warmth and bustle. Nothing like now, so cold and sparse. It hardly feels like a New Year at all.”

Shao Shi’s expression dimmed; she sat with bowed head and said nothing, her gaze drifting to Xian Jie’er beside her. Zhu Shi stroked her large, protruding belly and frowned slightly. Minglan affected complete incomprehension, wearing an air of innocent obliviousness, occasionally lifting her handkerchief to cover a smile.

Equally oblivious — or seemingly so — was Gu Tingwei. He said with a laugh: “I kept saying we should bring in the Qingxi Theater Troupe to liven things up, and Mother wouldn’t allow it.”

Zhu Shi immediately looked anxiously toward Shao Shi. The Old Madam shot her son a pointed look and reprimanded him: “What nonsense — it is not yet nine months since your elder brother passed.” Gu Tingwei smiled with a sheepish expression.

Gu Tingye’s face remained unchanged. He set down his chopsticks unhurriedly and said: “Quite right — it is indeed rather sparse. If only Father had given birth to children earlier.”

The expression on the Old Madam’s face froze.

In an agrarian society, a prosperous and numerous family was considered the greatest blessing. The more so on New Year occasions, when a full and brimming table, a household teeming with descendants, was seen as the sign of good fortune. All the elder generation’s brothers in the Gu Family had married early; the grandchildren and granddaughters of the fourth and fifth households were now old enough to be talking of their own marriages. In this regard, the main branch was rather impoverished: the only adult males were Gu Tingye and Gu Tingwei, and among the male grandchildren still minors, there was only Xian Ge’er alone, currently being attended by his wet nurse at the small round table nearby with the two elder sisters.

This state of affairs traced its origin entirely to a serious dereliction on the part of the old Marquis Gu. Because of his deep and enduring devotion to one particular barren and infertile piece of land — unable to produce a single harvest no matter how much it was fertilized and watered, not a kernel of grain for nearly ten years — by the time Gu Tingyu was born, Gu Tingxuan and Gu Tingyang were already old enough to run errands. Two years later, Gu Tingye came into the world; five or six years after that, Gu Tingwei was finally born as well. By the time Gu Tingwei had been weaned, Gu Tingxuan was already busy arranging his own marriage.

The reason this branch of the family was falling behind right from the starting line could, when traced to its source, be attributed entirely to that piece of poor-yielding ground — an example of occupying a thing and being unable to make any use of it. And as ill luck would have it, the infertile land in question was none other than the biological elder sister of the currently seated Old Madam.

Since the number of people was truly too few, and separating by gender into a men’s table and a women’s table would only have made the gathering seem even more desolate, the main branch of the Gu Family had, at the Old Madam’s suggestion, waived the usual convention and all sat together at one table for the New Year’s Eve dinner. Properly speaking, the three daughters-in-law should have stood at the table to serve, offering their mothers-in-law a few token bites of food as a gesture of courtesy — but since Zhu Shi and Minglan were with child, and Shao Shi was a widow deserving of sympathy, it was only right that the formality be dropped.

After Gu Tingye said this, the Old Madam’s expression turned sour, and everyone quietly bowed their heads over their food. The maids and matrons attending in the room fell silent; the New Year’s Eve dinner had somehow produced the atmosphere of a prison meal. A topic of much interest to me, Minglan thought to herself with gleeful appreciation.

In truth, for all these days past, the Old Madam’s expression had not been a pleasant one.

On the day the Old Madam returned the Gu family estate assets, Minglan had not particularly wanted to go and involve herself in the affair — but at Gu Tingye’s insistence, she sat quietly behind a screen and listened. Before everyone assembled, the Old Madam had Matron Xiang bring out the fish-scale land registry and the other account books, one by one. The Old Madam looked sorrowful, appeared to suffer immensely, yet did not utter a single displeased word, and even wore a strained smile as she spoke hospitable words to each of the assembled clan relatives. Recalling her many years of benevolent deeds — showing compassion to the elderly, care for the young, and generous treatment of many within the clan — several of the older senior male relatives of the extended family felt rather uncomfortable.

Minglan tugged at her handkerchief in conflicted feeling. In truth, a truly accomplished actor did not need to wail and contort their face — one could achieve the effect of speaking through half-swallowed tears without a single word, and she felt great sympathy for Gu Tingye up in front, who cut the unmistakable figure of a cold-blooded, ruthless villain.

Under these circumstances — and who could have imagined this — that particular great villain, not knowing when to stop, proceeded without a second thought to call in two book-keepers he had brought along, and right there before everyone, began a frank and thorough, utterly unabashed accounting of the estate’s assets. The expressions of the elder relatives grew increasingly uncomfortable. Minglan in the back felt herself acutely embarrassed as well. And in the midst of this awkward and tangled atmosphere, Gu Tingye actually had the nerve to casually pour himself another cup of tea.

“Now that we have laid everything out plainly, in front of our own family, it will be all the easier to live in harmony going forward.”

The Old Madam’s face went white, and she looked on the verge of collapsing. Fortunately, the two secretaries were quick with their hands and feet — before she could actually fall, they had already completed their verification. Once tally and questioning were done, Gu Tingye gave a wave of the hand, and right there on the spot, had those two secretaries ask the questions out loud.

“This shop — was it not on Yongming Street, the capital’s bustling commercial district? How has it now ended up in Xianghutong, some remote back lane?”

“This field was originally irrigated paddy land, with spring water sources and mountain forest nearby. How has it become dry sandy ground?”

“Why were the ownership share of Ancheng Gold House and that southern suburban estate sold off?”

The Old Madam could not, in the moment, muster the face to make a scene. She had been about to give vent to her anger when she noticed that the two book-keepers were impeccably courteous, and Gu Tingye sat beside her with an air of bland calm. She understood that if she did not provide some explanation, they would certainly find grounds to pursue the matter further. With no choice left, she set aside all pretense of frailty and victimhood and offered her account: a great deal of money had been needed at that time to work connections and secure favors; many assets had thus been sold, and for fear of alarming Gu Tingyu in his fragile health, she had not dared tell him.

Gu Tingye smiled and said nothing. The gazes of the assembled relatives shifted. The expressions on faces turned peculiar and exchanged.

Everyone in the room, to a greater or lesser degree, was aware that ever since Bai Shi had married into the family, the Gu estate had always been in excellent financial condition — and further, that after the old Marquis had once been bitten by the snake of financial ruin, he had taken meticulous care to manage the family assets from that point on.

Now, with the Old Madam’s few breezy words, decades of the Gu estate’s accumulated wealth had been reduced by seven or eight tenths — with a portion of ancestral property thrown in on top. And yet, in actual fact, no one had seen the Old Madam achieve any meaningful results through all this networking and relationship-building on the household’s behalf. In the end, it was Gu Tingye who had averted the catastrophe of having the title stripped. If the story were that the family assets had been moved to safer ground to avoid having everything seized in one blow — that version, frankly speaking, would be considerably more convincing. The question was merely where it had all been moved to… Whether the Old Madam’s account was true or false, was there any pretext more convenient than this? The gazes of those assembled drifted, with studied casualness, to the space immediately around the Old Madam.

Gu Tingye gave a brief smile, then pressed no further. He turned directly to the assembled clan elders and announced that he intended to set aside several acres of fine land as estate land for ancestral worship, to be held as clan property for the purpose of making offerings to the ancestors. With this, the atmosphere in the room shifted yet again. Clan property, as the term suggested, was for shared use among all family members. The combined yield of all the existing worship land at that time came to roughly four taels of money and grain per year. The income from this worship land — beyond supplying the family temple and ancestral graves — was also distributed as supplemental support to the elderly, young, and widowed poor within the clan. In essence: all who were present would receive a share.

The eyes of the assembled relatives began to move and their expressions shifted, now unreadable. Speaking plainly — conflict between a son’s wife and his stepmother was hardly an extraordinary thing. And as matters presently stood, this stepmother could not be said to be entirely clean, any more than a blank sheet of white paper.

After returning to their quarters, Gu Tingye cautioned Minglan: “Toward this person, one must not be the slightest bit off one’s guard.” Piecing together the preceding and following context of the story, then translating it into more direct terms, this amounted to: that old woman will not relent even when the river lies before her — she is not one to readily admit defeat, and even when she appears to have done so, it may be feigned.

That very night, the Old Madam took to her bed with various ailments and groans, intending to hand over all household management to Minglan forthwith. What she had not anticipated was that Minglan groaned even more convincingly, trembling and pleading in the most beseeching of tones, “begging her to look upon the mercy that her daughter-in-law’s condition was inconvenient, and at the very least to wait until after the first month of the new year.” The Old Madam knew perfectly well that Minglan was up to something, but had no means to call her out on it, and could only grit her teeth inwardly.

Minglan’s unhurried expression of gratitude — in her view, whatever adjustments needed to be made to the accounts had certainly been made already. There was no rush to audit them. During the first month of pregnancy, the greatest care was needed; one must not strain the mind or overexert the body. All other matters were to be set aside.

And so it came to pass that, for the New Year’s Eve banquet, Minglan presented a particularly fair and plump and glowing appearance — not to be compared with Shao Shi in her widowed state or Zhu Shi on the verge of delivery, and even Tingcan, with her happy occasion approaching, had less fine a complexion than she did. Try as Minglan might to affect a look of fragility, it simply could not be carried off.

Gu Tingye glanced at his brother beside him and said: “I have already spoken with the secretary at the Ministry of War. Once the first month of the new year is past, you will be able to report for duty.” Tingwei was overjoyed — he had long since grown impatient at being cooped up at home day after day: “Thank you, Second Elder Brother!” Gu Tingye said: “Do your duty conscientiously. The Five District Constabulary is nothing like the garrison office — there are far more tedious affairs to handle. You must take it seriously.” Tingwei smiled: “Second Elder Brother, put your mind at ease.” Gu Tingye gave a mild nod.

That night upon returning to their quarters, Danju came carrying a small cinnabar lacquered sandalwood box covered with imperial yellow brocade, placing it on the round table in the center of the room, before all the maids and matrons quietly withdrew. Minglan smiled as she said to Gu Tingye: “These are the gifts sent today from the palace. I have stored the other pieces away, but these few are particularly exquisite and precious. Please take a look, Marquis — what should be done with them?”

Gu Tingye was stretched out on Minglan’s daybed, eyes half-closed: “You decide.” Court business had been heavy during the New Year period, exhausting him considerably. He had not managed to sit down for a proper meal more than a few times these past days. In a while, he would still need to go and keep the New Year’s vigil. Let him rest a moment first.

Minglan took quiet note of the situation with a sympathetic inward appreciation. There were privileges, and there were their attendant demands. These days, she had come to understand ever more deeply what it meant to belong to the privileged class.

During festivals and holidays the palace sent gifts constantly, and between festivals the palace sent gifts still, as tokens of the Emperor’s favor — bolts of shimmering silk of every kind: lake brocade, Japanese warp-resist silk, Sichuan woven brocade, gauze with patterns as fine as sea-spider’s silk, jewel-bright damask, delicate smoke-translucent gauze, gossamer cicada-wing silk… and the names went on. Beyond these, there were complete sets and boxes of pearls and precious stones as well. And this being said, when one needed clothes made to order outside, there was not even a queue to wait in — the shop’s master tailor came directly to the house.

The New Year was a great occasion, and the gifts were naturally even more generous. Minglan lifted out the contents of the box piece by piece: a white jade bowl of clear, luminous perfection; two pairs of chopsticks carved from emerald jade, mounted and inlaid with red gold filigree; a golden ruyi scepter of yellow-green and white cloud-patterned jade; and one object of vivid red. Minglan took it up and looked — it was a red jade paired-heart lock: one clasp, one lock-head; when joined together they formed an auspicious wish-knot, and when separated each held its own elegant shape. Not only was the workmanship superbly refined, but the quality of the jade itself was exceptional. Since her marriage, Minglan had seen many fine things, but red jade of this caliber was truly rare — red enough to be vivid and dazzling, warm as clear spring water, cradled in the pale softness of her palm like a drop of heart’s blood.

Gu Tingye had opened his eyes at some point, and he too saw this paired-heart lock. The gaze that had been cool and detached all evening seemed to be warmed by a trace of the red jade’s light. He reached out one hand and drew Minglan down beside him, then took the lock with the other hand, turning it gently between his fingertips. After a moment he said in a low voice: “Do you know how to braid cord?” Minglan nodded. Of course — that had been a required skill.

“You braid it into a cord, and we shall each wear one half.” His voice dropped even lower.

Minglan’s heart turned soft and warm. She slowly leaned against his chest and murmured: “I will wear it every moment of every day.”

“Yes. Braid it securely.”

On the first day of the first month, Gu Tingye and the Old Madam went to the palace early in the morning to offer New Year greetings and bow in thanks for the imperial blessing. Minglan, being with child, had sent word early through Little Shen Shi, and the Empress had exempted her from attending the palace in person, also bestowing upon her bolts of infant silk fabric and nourishing medicinal tonics. The envy in the corners of Little Shen Shi’s eyes was faint but visible — she had married before Minglan, and yet had not conceived to this day. Fortunately, her eldest brother General Zheng Jun’s household already had several children, both legitimate and concubine-born, and the succession of the general’s household was in no danger — so the pressure upon her was at least somewhat lighter.

“These things cannot be rushed.” Minglan comforted her sincerely. “There is a wonderful aunt in my family — after nearly four years of marriage, she finally gave birth to my cousin. Perhaps the Bodhisattva Guanyin is at this very moment deliberating carefully on your behalf — whether to send a little general, or a little top scholar, or — ah, why not both together?”

Little Shen Shi’s clouds of worry dispersed, and she burst into laughter: “You really do know how to put people at ease!” Minglan’s warm and gently humorous nature had made her a pleasant companion, and over time Little Shen Shi had grown increasingly fond of seeking her out to talk and unburden her heart.

Minglan held her hand and said quietly: “I know what it is you are worrying about. But you have not been married long — things are nowhere near that point yet. Set your heart at ease — the more at ease your heart is, the sooner it may come.” In this era without modern medicine, there was little else one could say.

Little Shen Shi was not a person given to brooding, and promptly thanked Minglan, her manner brightening once more.

After Gu Tingye returned from the palace, Minglan gave instructions for the matrons to bring out several baskets of copper coins.

During the New Year season, all the head stewards, matrons, married women, and maids throughout Chen Garden received red envelopes with gift money. These coins — strung together with red cord in small bundles — were prepared for the children. The dividing wall between the old Gu estate and Chen Garden had already been cleared away; work on the new construction — tamping down the earth, laying down bricks, and building up the garden — would begin after the New Year. By now, everyone throughout the old estate also understood that the reins of the entire household would sooner or later return to the Marquis and his wife’s hands. Head stewards from all the various quarters came one after another to curry favor. But Chen Garden was like an iron fortress — everyone worked with genuine diligence and did not dare to be the slightest bit slack. No needle could be inserted; no water could be poured through. The new Marchioness appeared mild-natured and easy, yet her true temperament could not be gauged, and the head stewards felt acutely uneasy.

Gu Tingye had stolen a rare half-day of leisure. He watched with a smile as Minglan distributed the coin bundles and snacks and fruits one by one. The garden was draped in silver, and several of the little maids and young servant boys were running and playing — rolling snowballs to toss at each other, bursts of laughter ringing out.

Rong Jie’er, dressed in a brand-new winter jacket, came over — the gold necklace at her collar catching the glint of the snow and flashing brilliantly. Of late she had felt somewhat out of sorts. She remembered how, in the days just after she had first entered the Gu household, she had thought of her birth mother and younger brother almost every day, and could wake herself from sleep with crying in the night. At some point that she could not quite identify, that longing had grown fainter and fainter. This New Year, because her stepmother was with child, she had thought of her brother — whom she had not seen in a long time — only when reminded. And yet she had already forgotten what her brother and mother looked like. Would her stepmother give birth to a baby brother or a baby sister?

She knew her stepmother was good to her. Among the other households as well, the concubine-born girls all envied her her fortune — well-dressed, well-provided-for, and sometimes her stepmother even came in person to collect her from school. But what of the future? If her stepmother had her own child, would she become, as those outside said, a thorn in the stepmother’s side…? Her heart gave a sudden jolt of alarm. She thought of Teacher Xue’s instruction: when facing a matter, one must keep one’s heart straight; one must not begin by viewing things askew. A straight heart means an open chest and a clear mind.

She felt inwardly ashamed of herself. She had actually forgotten what the teacher had taught her! She had long since made up her resolve — from now on she would conduct herself well, and become a person as upright and bright-spirited as Teacher Xue, without yielding to others, holding her head up with dignity — and not… not become like her birth mother.

Rong Jie’er looked up toward those seated above. Her father was giving her stepmother a gentle smile, one hand holding the hand warmer for her. Her own heart felt dim and heavy. In truth, whether or not there would be a younger sibling made little difference to her standing. Whether her stepmother was truly kind to her, or was doing it for reputation’s sake, or out of pity, or to present a virtuous face to her father — the teacher had already spoken: goodness is goodness. The one who receives another’s goodness ought to be sincerely grateful and cherish it, and to be humble and proper in their conduct, warmhearted and virtuous. Only in this way could good fortune be preserved long and enduringly, with both Heaven’s blessing and human assistance.

“…Rong Jie’er.” Her stepmother was calling her. Rong Jie’er quickly raised her head, her eyes wide and round. The richly dressed and beautiful young noblewoman, a gentle luminousness on her cheeks, said softly: “Come — this is your New Year’s gift.”

Danju lifted a small tray and presented the red envelope. Rong Jie’er took it in a daze.

“All the teachers have spoken well of you — that you work hard and have made great progress.” The stepmother’s brows and eyes were full of warmth, her voice gentle and low. “Both your father and I are very pleased to hear it. You must continue in this way after the New Year.”

Rong Jie’er hung her head. Her heart was at once proud and deeply moved, yet she found nothing to say. She had never known how to be playful and winning with her stepmother — particularly with her father present as well.

Gu Tingye looked at her for a moment, then said: “You are about to become an elder sister.” Rong Jie’er startled and looked up — and heard her father’s authoritative voice: “The younger brothers and sisters who come after will all be watching you. You must set a good example.”

The floodgates of Rong Jie’er’s heart seemed to burst open with a great and rushing clarity. She composed herself and curtsied in a proper, respectful bow, her bearing poised and graceful. She raised her head and looked steadily at those above, and spoke aloud in a clear voice: “I thank Father for his guidance, and Mother for her care. Your daughter — will remember.”

Minglan’s heart warmed, and she thought to herself: this effort spent on school fees was well worth it. She must prepare a generous year-end gift once the school reopened.

Beside her, Gu Tingye was watching her steadily.

Last New Year, Minglan had still been running about in all directions, paying New Year’s respects to elders and sisters-in-law. At that time, no one paid their respects to her. This year it was exactly the reverse — she was resting at home to nurture the pregnancy. Even her family’s visit had been waived by Grandmother Sheng; only Gu Tingye had gone on her behalf to share a meal and drink wine. Everything else required nothing of her, and yet with Gu Tingye’s momentum at its height, those who came to pay her their respects flowed like a river without pause.

First came the clan relatives. The more distantly connected ones were left out — it would only attract a crowd of those looking to benefit. But the fourth and fifth households were true and direct family, and Gu Tingye, with not the slightest resistance, had prepared gifts of appropriate weight — neither too lavish nor too slight — and gone to pay his respects. Whatever he said to those two estranged uncles of his was unknown, but he returned in a notably good mood.

Minglan found this quite curious, and sent people to make inquiries. The households had only recently divided; the servants of both sides were still well acquainted with each other, and while Gu Tingye was inside paying his visit, the attendants below gathered plenty of news about the two estates.

Gu Shun, who had accompanied the visit to Fourth Master’s household, reported: “…The old debts that Bing Second Young Master ran up have come due, with creditors at the door making threats to beat and kill if not repaid. Fourth Master has fallen ill with anger, and wants to hand everything over to Elder Master Xuan to manage. Yiniang Liu and Bing Second Young Master refuse — they’re crying and making scenes. When we arrived, it was all in chaos. We waited a very long time before anyone brought us a cup of warm tea.”

Gu Quan, who had gone to Fifth Master’s household and been rewarded by Xiaotao with an armful of snacks and sweets, smiled to show two little tiger-tooth dimples as he gave his report with quick-tongued ease: “Over there, Second Master Gu is now managing the household. Fifth Master strictly ordered Second Master Gu to be scrupulous and impartial, and not allow anyone to act out of hand. Second Master Gu is a sensible person and would not let Yang First Young Master draw money casually. But Fifth Master’s household was not pleased about this, and complained that Second Master Gu is unfilial and lacking in virtue. Second Master Gu was so wronged he cried his eyes out — Bing Second Young Master has already had several arguments with Fifth Master as well. Oh — a few days ago, someone came to collect on flower debt. Second Master Gu said it was extortion, and would not let them in. The debt collector sat down at the door and made a scene. It just so happened that Fifth Master was coming back from a poetry gathering and the two sides ran straight into each other — couldn’t be hidden at all. Fifth Master flew into a rage and had Yang First Young Master tied up right then and there for a severe beating. When we went over, Yang First Young Master still hadn’t gotten out of bed yet…”

Minglan returned quietly to her quarters and looked at Gu Tingye, seated upright behind the writing desk, his gaze steady and composed — but with the faintest upward curve at the corners of his lips, like the light, cheerful crescent of a summer night’s moon. She rubbed her belly: don’t you go gloating, Father of mine.

The following day, the fourth and fifth households came together to pay their New Year’s respects.

The Old Madam finally roused herself to put on a good face. She had tables of food and drink set up, with one table for the men outside and two tables for the women inside, and called in a troupe of female performers to sing a few songs and add to the festive atmosphere. She pulled the two older sisters-in-law into animated conversation, with Zhu Shi and Tingying adding a cheerful comment or two from the side — quite a lively scene. Tingcan had barely eaten a few bites before she took Tingying off to her own room to talk. The remaining children were led away by matrons to play.

Elder Mistress Gu Tingyang’s face looked even more gaunt. A person in their forties, yet silver strands had already appeared at her temples. On one side, a husband with a violent temper, laid up from injury, needing her care day and night without respite; on the other, a strict and demanding mother-in-law, who at any moment might scold her for not being a capable enough wife and thus having brought about her husband’s worthlessness. Minglan felt a surge of compassion: “Elder Sister-in-Law, these past days have been difficult for you. Xun Ge’er and the others are still young — you must take care of yourself.”

Elder Mistress Gu Tingyang glanced cautiously at Fifth Master who was chatting nearby, said nothing, and turned to look at Minglan with gratitude.

Second Mistress Gu Tingdi, who had come from a good family background and had always looked down on her sister-in-law, now sighed as well: “Elder Sister-in-Law has good fortune awaiting her in later years. Xun Ge’er reads and studies diligently day and night — the teacher says it’s nearly time to have him try his hand at the examination. Father is so pleased — Elder Sister-in-Law, you may rest assured: Xun Ge’er will surely earn a degree and bring you honor.”

Mention of her son brought a dawning brightness to Elder Mistress Gu Tingyang’s tired and worn face — like the first sunlight breaking through darkness — and she smiled with deep pride and happiness, though still she demurred humbly: “The teacher is only saying he should try. The child is young — how could he be that capable?”

“But that teacher was once Father’s contemporary, and served as a magistrate in his earlier years. What he says cannot be false. And among all the children in our generation — I’m afraid we’ll all have to depend on Xun Ge’er in the future.” Truly a fine bamboo shoot from a poor stand — Second Mistress Gu Tingdi could not help but sigh. She was also gradually setting aside her old condescension toward Elder Mistress Gu Tingyang. As the saying went: to be a wife and raise one’s children. The woman had at least fulfilled half her proper duty, had she not?

Elder Mistress Gu Tingyang gave a warm, gentle smile, with the habitual trace of ingratiation that had become second nature — Second Mistress Gu Tingdi met her smile calmly and good-naturedly, and patted her hand in a friendly way, even pouring a cup of wine for her with her own hand.

Since the division of the household, the two sisters-in-law of the fifth house were moving toward harmony and mutual understanding. The two of the fourth house, by contrast, were growing increasingly at odds. At the table, Elder Mistress Gu Tingxuan turned her head pointedly away and engaged only with Minglan, paying no mind to the sister-in-law beside her. Second Mistress Gu Tingbing gave a repeated series of cold laughs: “Elder Sister-in-Law’s temper has certainly grown lately. Now that all the elderly and young of the household are in Elder Sister’s hands — things truly are different!”

Elder Mistress Gu Tingxuan turned back in fury: “If you want to manage it so badly, take it and manage it yourself! It’s not as if I was the one who begged for it and clawed for it. Working myself to exhaustion, laboring with heart and mind, without a good word to show for it, and heaped with nothing but blame — so be it. But is there still no one allowed to say two words about it?!”

“Oh ho — sitting atop a mountain of gold and silver, moving it wherever you please — and we’re not even allowed to say a word?!” Second Mistress Gu Tingbing spoke in a drawn-out, sour tone. Elder Mistress Gu Tingxuan was furious beyond words; her sleeves began to quiver.

And then, Second Mistress Gu Tingbing also brought out her handkerchief to dab at her eyes, and launched into her familiar refrain with the face of a wronged village woman, sniffling: “Sigh — evidently we have become a nuisance to everyone now. My husband out there somewhere, alive or dead no one knows, and our orphan children and I still subject to this treatment!… I only hope Elder Sister-in-Law can take pity on her few nephews and nieces, and at least leave a bit of soup for us! We…”

Smack. Minglan brought her chopsticks down hard against the table. Her face was frosted over. Second Mistress Gu Tingbing fell silent; everyone looked at Minglan in startlement. Even the older women who had been listening to the singing over at the front of the room looked over.

“If you want to cry, go home and cry. On a New Year’s occasion, must you really bring this kind of misfortune upon us?” Minglan’s voice was not raised, but her tone was severe.

Second Mistress Gu Tingbing blinked, then began again: “I only…”

“Everyone in the family knows the situation with Third Elder Brother. No one is without worry for him. But look where you are and what time it is. If you must weep, weep when you return home. To start weeping in front of elders and the children alike — is this the time and place?” Minglan gave a cool sniff, glancing at the Old Madam over to the side, who had begun to stir. “And then imagine if you were to do the same at the time of Younger Sister Tingcan’s wedding — bringing to mind whatever you wished and crying at will, disturbing the great day of celebration. As your sister-in-law, I would be the first to tear that mouth of yours clean off!”

The Old Madam lowered the shoulders she had been drawing up. Her eyes flickered; she did not open her mouth.

Second Mistress Gu Tingbing did not dare cry anymore. She stared blankly. Minglan looked at her, and said one word at a time: “Just now, I was out of line as well. My words were rather blunt. I hope Second Sister-in-Law will forgive me. I only say it because I consider you family — I said whatever came to mind.” Whether Second Mistress Gu Tingbing answered “yes” or “no” was impossible — she stretched her face into a pained and awkward semblance of a smile. Elder Mistress Gu Tingxuan, seeing the situation was more or less resolved, sighed, and patted Second Mistress Gu Tingbing’s hand: “Just put your heart at ease — Elder Brother has made arrangements with the postal relay stations. Bing Third Elder Brother writes every two months to report his safety, and has someone attending him there. I imagine he is well. In another couple of years, won’t the whole family be reunited?”

Second Mistress Gu Tingbing sniffled, bowed her head, and said no more, her outburst subsiding. Elder Mistress Gu Tingxuan raised her head, and over the top of Second Mistress Gu Tingbing’s head, gave Minglan a long and searching look. Minglan smiled and turned her head toward the singing.

Second Mistress Gu Tingdi had watched this entire scene with careful attention. She thought of how she had heard a while back that Changwu — though still young in years — had already secured a decent position, and she sighed inwardly. All this time she had prided herself on her own cleverness, yet she had not been quicker than that loud, quarrelsome Elder Mistress Gu Tingxuan to see which way the wind was blowing. That woman had already attached herself to the right connection long ago. Truly — never judge a person by their surface.

This round of New Year visits cost Minglan dearly. The unmarried younger female cousins of the extended family, the nephews and nieces in the household — every one needed a New Year’s gift envelope. Even if she gave birth to children in the coming year and could receive some gift money back, she would still be vastly outnumbered. No matter how industriously she gave birth — no matter how many little ones she brought into the world — by the time those little ones arrived, all these young girls currently receiving gift money from her would themselves have given birth to children of their own. She — or her children — would then be compelled to give New Year’s gifts to this next generation of nephews and nieces in turn. Oh heavens — truly, this regret was boundless, and the silver gift-giving would never come to an end. This was clearly a losing transaction, and one that would show no return for a very long time to come.

That night, Minglan pressed a hand to her quietly weeping heart, and with a face of misery described this bleak future to her husband. In this miserable ancient era — was reproduction truly the ultimate productive force? After Gu Tingye heard her out, he lay back on the bed and laughed until his wine-induced haze half-cleared. He glanced at Minglan’s belly, then returned to the outer study to look at the documents he had yet to review. After going through two of them, he suddenly recalled someone who used to frequently say in his ear, “the bed of tenderness is the tomb of the hero” — and promptly sent a servant to drag that old set of bones, Master Gongsun, up out of his bedding.

Six or seven days into the first month, Gu Tingye’s associates and friends began to call upon him.

Fortunately Master Gongsun had reminded him early on — Gu Tingye dared not allow the gate to look too busy and conspicuous, lest the censors started making a fuss. But those coming to deliver New Year gifts were still numerous. Gu Tingye received guests in the outer courtyard, instructing the gatekeepers to admit only those it was appropriate to associate with or those who were close acquaintances. Minglan, in the inner courtyard, kept a composed and gracious smile in place — over and over saying to the unfamiliar women guests “there was no need to be so generous” — and repeatedly telling the children “quickly get up, the floor is cold” — and then offering praise along the lines of “this child really is lovely” or “truly well-behaved.”

For such occasions, it was fortunate that she had thought ahead and had the goldsmith make a supply of small gold and silver ingots engraved with auspicious characters and cloud patterns. Since it was moreover the Year of the Monkey, she had also commissioned several dozen small gold monkey figures no bigger than one’s thumb — they did not weigh much, but were full of life and character, very charming and playful objects, just right as New Year’s gift money for the children.

Whether she encountered the eloquent or the quietly reserved, Minglan met everyone with equal warmth and courtesy, showing no favoritism. The rigorous training that Grandmother Sheng had given her since childhood was now displaying its worth. The image Minglan cut as she sat composed and smiling was dignified and graceful in every way, impressively deceptive in its effect. She did not say a great deal, but was warm and pleasantly engaging. In no time at all, word began to spread outside that Minglan had a fine character, and was an agreeable and generous-natured person. Minglan felt quietly very pleased with herself. Indeed, the eyes of the people were always sharp.

Beyond all these demanding social engagements, the receiving of gifts was a very pleasant matter indeed. People of the official world were, for the most part, astute and perceptive. Aside from truly reliable confidants, one would not openly bring entire chests of silver to solidify a relationship — nor come wrapped in banknotes stamped with identifying seals to express one’s admiration.

There were large South Sea pearls from Fujian — the pure, perfectly round pearls filling an entire box; a carved jade Guanyin half a foot tall, warm to the touch; a coral and jade and gold-and-silver-branched peach blossom bonsai, so lifelike as to be nearly indistinguishable from the real thing; black fox fur, purple lamb’s fleece, and lynx pelts from the north, along with whole sheets of sable — impossibly soft and dense to the touch; and precious bear gallbladder, tiger bone, snow ginseng…

“Truly — is this all permissible?” Minglan was rather in the manner of a country bumpkin — both thrilled and frightened. Is all of this actually legal?

Master Gongsun looked perfectly at ease: “If one were to refuse everything, that would cause more trouble instead.”

Had Minglan gone to have a look at the Shen Nation’s Duke’s household, she would likely not have been quite so agitated. Officials posted for long stretches at the outer frontiers, out of the Emperor’s range of sight and hearing, and unaware of which way the political wind was blowing at court — if not now, then when? And these gifts she was seeing had already been put through several rounds of sifting. The majority had a legitimate account to give.

This sort of activity continued until the eleventh day of the first month before it began to ease.

Compared to the lively warmth of Chen Garden — even the small gatekeeping boy was cheerfully profiting — the old Gu estate was quite desolate by comparison. Looking at the two side by side, the servants from head stewards to miscellaneous workers on the other side could only pray for Minglan to hurry up and take charge of household management, so that conditions might improve. Yet Chen Garden was like an iron enclosure — everyone was genuinely diligent, not daring to be negligent in the slightest. Not a needle could be inserted, not a drop of water could seep in. The new Marchioness appeared mild-natured, yet her true temperament was impossible to gauge — the head stewards felt acutely, and persistently, uneasy.

Since Minglan had her hands full, and was worried Rong Jie’er might fall behind in her lessons, she shamelessly went ahead and asked Shao Shi to look after Rong Jie’er alongside Xian Jie’er while Xian Jie’er was studying and doing her needlework. Strangely enough — the more that Minglan went back and forth asking Shao Shi for this favor and that one, the more at ease Shao Shi seemed to feel. Though she spent more time with the Old Madam and Zhu Shi, she found herself genuinely fond of Minglan.

Looking at the two little girls playing in the garden, building a snowman, running back and forth — a crowd of maids joining in the laughter — everyone’s little faces flushed bright red with cold and exertion — even the sadness in her own heart seemed to fade a little.

“Go and call the two girls back. They’ve been playing like wild things for a full half hour.” Shao Shi instructed someone beside her.

One of the maids, with sharp eyes, spotted a familiar small brocade palanquin in the distance. She laughed and said: “It must be the Second Mistress coming.”

The palanquin stopped directly at the gate. Danju carefully helped Minglan out. Shao Shi had someone stoke the brazier inside to a good warmth, pulled Minglan to sit down, and said: “On such a cold day, with your condition still inconvenient, why come out at all? Just have someone let me know if there is anything, and I’ll go to you.”

Minglan took off her large outer cape as she answered: “I was restless being cooped up. Besides, it’s a palanquin — I didn’t have to walk.” She turned and waved her hand, indicating that someone should bring the things in. “Yesterday I received two bolts of cut-silk brocade, and when I looked at them, the colors were fresh and vivid, and the fabric was very fine. I’ve brought them here for Elder Sister-in-Law, so Xian Jie’er can have two new outfits made.”

Shao Shi looked at the fabric — luminous and resplendent, the pattern noble and elegant, yet the colors restrained and understated, just right for a girl in mourning for her father. Her heart was delighted, yet she demurred: “The child is still growing at this age — there is no need to go to such expense.”

Minglan smiled: “Our Rong Jie’er is getting some too. Both are good girls — diligent in their studies, respectful of their elders. And Xian Jie’er especially is sensible and well-mannered. Of course they deserve to be rewarded.”

Shao Shi’s heart was comforted, and she accepted the fabric.

The two sisters-in-law chatted for a while, then Minglan raised the purpose of her visit: “Younger Sister Tingcan will soon be leaving us. As her sisters-in-law, we ought to offer some token of celebration — but I don’t know if the Gu Family has any particular customs or rules about such things. I must ask Elder Sister-in-Law to advise me, lest I make a mistake.”

At the mention of Tingcan, Shao Shi hesitated briefly before saying: “When I came into the family, Younger Sister Tingyan had already married. Looking at how the younger sisters of the fourth and fifth uncles’ households married, there did not seem to be any particular special customs. Only…” she glanced at Minglan’s expression, “Younger Sister Tingcan is rather particular and proud — some things she might not look upon with favor.”

For a sister-in-law to add to the trousseau of a younger sister-in-law was in essence simply contributing more items to her dowry. Those with means might give fields or shops; those more thoughtful might put together a complete set of bed furniture, clothing, and jewelry; but since these were only sisters-in-law and not parents, it was generally just a gesture — a hairpin, a pair of bracelets, or a dressing table set would do perfectly well.

Minglan had anticipated this all along and said: “I understand that the Princess’s residence has already come to discuss the wedding date, and it seems they are eager for the marriage to be soon. Why don’t we go and ask Younger Sister directly — what she likes, or what she doesn’t like — so I can prepare early.”

Shao Shi felt inwardly relieved. She could not afford to offend either side, and smiled in agreement: “That works well. Younger Sister’s quarters are just two steps from here — I’ll come with you.”

Judging from Gu Tingcan’s living quarters alone, it was clear she had been pampered since childhood. Her rooms had the best natural light and the most favorable orientation in the entire estate. Before one even entered the building, the courtyard outside was already filled with precious plants and rare flora. And when the rest of the Gu estate had fallen on cold and lean times, only the quarters of the Seventh Young Lady retained the appearance of maids well-dressed and neatly turned out.

“What a coincidence — both sisters-in-law have come together.” Gu Tingcan was seated quietly before her qin stand, her voice carrying a note of casual detachment.

She was strikingly beautiful, yet there was always a quality of cool disdain and melancholy in her expression — an ethereal, gauze-like distance. Ancient society demanded of women a gentle, modest, dignified, and agreeable manner — this fell well short of the normal standard for a properly brought-up young lady. Yet the late old Marquis had particularly loved this quality in her.

The interior was arranged with a quiet and refined elegance — neither ostentatiously rich nor overly spartan, displaying her excellent taste and proud origins with measured precision. A beautiful painting scroll hung simply on the wall — just barely visible at its roller’s edge were glints of jade-green and gold. A book lay placed there with apparent plainness — a single glance revealed it to be one of the world’s rarest surviving copies. On the side table, a cluster of vivid red plum blossoms seemed just freshly cut from outside and arranged in a white porcelain flower vase from the Song dynasty, priceless and beyond acquisition.

The arrangement was remarkably distinguished — compared to her, Hualan’s boudoir was overly opulent; Molan’s fell into the error of ostentatious display.

Minglan followed Shao Shi in a tour of the room, then sat down and, lowering her gaze, smiled quietly. The most interesting aspect of this room was that the four works of calligraphy and painting hanging on the walls, the copybooks in the corners, were all the work of the Seventh Young Lady herself. Even the several poetry collections set out on the table were the young lady’s own verses from childhood, carefully compiled and bound into volumes with soft silk on fine paper.

Shao Shi, as the eldest sister-in-law, naturally spoke first. With a smile, she set out the purpose of the visit: “Younger Sister need only speak — we shall see what can be arranged.”

Tingcan habitually tilted her chin slightly upward and smiled only at the corners of her lips: “How delightful. Then I shall just say it: I would like to have the days of before — when the whole family lived in harmony. I wonder, Second Sister-in-Law — can you make that happen?” Her eyes rested on Minglan. Shao Shi was momentarily embarrassed.

Toward this sort of unworldly young person, Minglan had always found lengthy reasoning to be a waste of effort. She said mildly: “Even if those days were to return, could Younger Sister remain here forever? For us as women, our husband’s household is the place we settle for the second half of our lives. Can it be that Seventh Sister wishes to bring the whole family with her to the Princess’s residence?”

There was no contest between a young lady in seclusion and a court clerk who had seen no small number of disputes. Tingcan fell silent, turned her head away with suppressed anger. Minglan continued: “If Younger Sister cannot think of what she likes at the moment, perhaps say what she dislikes. That way, what I send will not be something Younger Sister finds unwelcome.”

Tingcan almost immediately said “everything you send I’ll find unwelcome,” then recalled her mother’s reminders and swallowed it back. Her eyes shifted, and she said: “Flowers and powders I don’t care for. Jewelry of every sort I already have in abundance. I would not dare accept fields and shops. Clothing fabric and bed and cabinet furniture are all fully provided. Poetry, books, and paintings I prefer to choose myself. Beyond that, Sisters-in-law may look to give as you see fit.”

Having said this, she sat back in proud composure, watching Minglan with serene composure, waiting to see what she could possibly come up with.

“Younger Sister has made herself very clear — we have both heard and understood. Very well then — allow us to go home and think it over, and we will not trouble Younger Sister further from her studies.” Minglan smiled and rose, drawing Shao Shi along with her as she made her leisurely exit. Spending another moment with this celestial being would be detrimental to the fetal development.

Tingcan raised the book scroll in her hand with graceful indifference: “Sisters-in-law go safely — no need to see you out.”

Minglan walked outward and sorted through her thoughts as she went. Because Rong Jie’er and Xian Jie’er were close companions and always going about together, over time the maids and matrons of Chen Garden and Shao Shi’s quarters had all become well acquainted with one another. The people around Gu Tingyu had been, for the most part, old servants left behind by his birth mother, who knew the old stories in detail. Xiaotao was sent in as the one skilled at drawing out information, paired with a few matrons, and some wine, food, and tea — and a great many old tales were obtained.

As the origin of everything — what sort of person had Da Qin Shi truly been? Minglan had long been curious.

When Xiaotao was extracting information, Bisi asked: “Was she beautiful?” Ruomei asked: “How were her talents?”

The old servants said: The eldest daughter of the Qin Family — beautiful as an autumn lotus in full bloom, lovely in stillness; accomplished in poetry and verse, expert in rhymed prose and compositions; the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting — proficient in every one.

At that time, the East Changhou estate was still in its full flower of splendor, and she was its lord’s most lavishly pampered legitimate eldest daughter. Yet for all her beauty and accomplishment, she had reached eighteen without being betrothed. The reason was simple: she suffered from a serious chronic illness, and her frailty was known throughout the capital.

Her parents could not bear to marry her downward — yet families of matching station, who would willingly take such a sickly bride? To marry a wife was to bring in someone capable and reliable — not merely a beautiful ornament to be displayed. Such a wife would need to support her husband’s career, raise children, manage the household. All of this, Da Qin Shi was unable to do.

At this point, Marquis Ningyuan’s estate sent an envoy to propose a marriage on behalf of the legitimate eldest son. This was a match dropped from Heaven — Da Qin Shi’s parents were overjoyed beyond measure.

According to what the old servants implied, in their vague and fragmentary way, Old Marquis Gu had actually caught a glimpse of Da Qin Shi before their marriage — at what time and place, one could not say, a chance and fleeting encounter that had nevertheless planted a feeling of love. This was truly a strange bond of fate — a military general who had spent his years on the battlefield wielding weapons, yet had come to love this kind of delicate, fragile beauty. Minglan could not begin to make sense of it.

He then implored his parents to go and propose the match. The old Marquis and Marchioness, his parents, would never have agreed — such a daughter-in-law not only had an unpredictable lifespan, but bearing children was nearly impossible. Gu Yankai persisted in his pleas to no avail, then simply threw himself into service at the army in the northern frontier.

At the time, the threat from the Rong nomads was at its fiercest — warfare was harsh and every battle could mean death. After an agonizing year or two of constant fear, the old Marquis and Marchioness, worn down, finally relented and agreed to the marriage. At the time they bowed to the inevitable with resignation — if Da Qin Shi had no children, concubines could always be raised to produce heirs, after all. But their simplistic acceptance was very quickly shattered.

After the marriage, husband and wife were deeply devoted, inseparable wherever they went. A year passed, then two, then three — and the old Marquis and Marchioness were growing desperate. Yet Gu Yankai had eyes for no one else — not so much as a mosquito of the opposite sex — let alone a bed companion or concubine. The old Marquis invoked family discipline and filial duty as leverage to force his hand, and the old Marchioness begged with tears streaming down her face. Gu Yankai had no choice but to comply — but before he had even left the room, Da Qin Shi was already weeping in secret heartbreak before the wind. She dared not argue before her in-laws, but she could not contain her grief; she wept until she ran a high fever and collapsed.

The entire Gu household was thrown into uproar and turmoil. They barely managed to bring her back, but when she opened her eyes, she wept with such heartbreak that she nearly stopped breathing. Gu Yankai immediately sent the bed companion away — not a single one remained — and spent the next half year nursing and protecting and cherishing her. Then, once again under his parents’ demands, he went to be with another woman, and Da Qin Shi — her health poor though it was — had a keen awareness of news. The other party had not yet so much as undone their clothing when Da Qin Shi fell into a faint, unresponsive.

This happened several times over. Gu Yankai felt deeply that things could not go on this way, and secretly applied to be stationed on the southwestern frontier — then swept his wife away and fled, with his parents raging and stamping their feet after him to no avail. In the years that followed, the old Marquis and Marchioness attempted on multiple occasions to issue a decree of divorce and be done with it — but the Earl of East Chang and his wife came personally to entreat and plead on their daughter’s behalf, and they could not find the heart to do it.

In the second year after the death of Empress Jing’an, Gu Tingyu was born. The Gu household had barely begun to rejoice at this long-awaited legitimate grandson when catastrophe was upon them. In truth, not all of the debt owed to the imperial treasury had been squandered by the Gu household itself — several of the outstanding sums had legitimate explanations, involving maritime ventures in Fujian, border trade in the southwest, and the purchases of the imperial household supplies, all carried out on the word of old friends and associates. But the martial emperor had suddenly turned into an unpredictable tyrant, refusing to listen to a word of reason. And the several senior officials who might have vouched for the Gu household’s innocence had all been implicated to varying degrees in the palace power struggles — some beheaded and their families exterminated, others sent to distant exile with their properties confiscated. At such a time, who could dare risk reaching out to save another?

The venerable old Marquis, kind-hearted and upright, was immediately struck down by apoplexy. The entire household descended into frenzied chaos. At this point, a longtime trusted friend came with a message, saying that a letter had arrived from his old hometown in Jiangnan mentioning a certain matter: in Haining there was a salt merchant of immense wealth — truly a man of ten thousand strings of gold — whose knee bore only one beloved daughter, in the full bloom of her youth, and whose family was seeking a fine match for her.

The Gu household was simultaneously delighted and troubled. All of the legitimate elder sons were already married — how was this to be managed? To ask the young woman to be a concubine would surely be refused.

No need for the Gu household to worry — that well-meaning friend had already sent someone to Jiangnan to make the introductions. Old Master Bai was no ordinary person. No matter how tempted he might be by the prestige of the Gu estate, when it came to the marriage of his one and only daughter, he would not take a matchmaker’s word alone. A man of decisive action all his life, he arrived in the capital within a few days — and then, at a certain teahouse, happened to come across the Fifth Master holding court in animated discourse, and at the entrance to a certain pleasure district “by chance encountered” the Fourth Master. What made him most furious was that these two men, whom he had already taken one look and dismissed as worthless, were, to make matters worse, already married.

With a combined fury of indignation, he returned home and gave the matchmaker a thorough scolding, declaring the matter permanently closed, and delivered one pronouncement: “May your ancestors eighteen generations back be struck blind in their dog-eyes! Will this old man’s one and only precious daughter be someone’s concubine?!” — When the Bai Marchioness entered Marquis Ningyuan’s estate, she had brought some household attendants from her personal entourage as part of her dowry. Though these attendants had all since been dispersed, they had shared many stories from those early days, and a few of the older servants still remembered.

After that kind and meddlesome friend relayed these words, the old Marquis — ignoring his failing health, calling for himself to be carried to a carriage, and setting out in urgent haste for the southwest — took his eldest son by the hand in silent entreaty. Above him his near-blinded-from-weeping mother; around him the frightened and helpless younger siblings; and at his side the wife he deeply loved. Gu Yankai nearly lost his sanity overnight.

Da Qin Shi, whose information channels were always remarkably sharp, also heard the news. Despite the mother-in-law’s oath-swearing assurances that it was only a temporary separation, and that she would be taken back as wife thereafter — Da Qin Shi was still unable to accept it. Having given birth so recently, her body was already frail to begin with; she struggled in anguish for several days, and on her deathbed pointed to one of her maids as a concubine for her husband, and then passed on.

There was no time for grief and mourning. The old Marquis immediately sent people to Haining to propose the marriage. Old Master Bai had originally been reluctant — but when he thought that his beloved daughter would become the legitimate Marchioness of Marquis Ningyuan, and would from then on no longer be the daughter of a lowly merchant household — the temptation was tremendous.

He steeled himself, resolved to try, and as was his custom went personally to the southwest to look the man over. This time, he was satisfied.

Old Master Bai had read people keenly his entire life — scholars and rascals of every sort, high officials and noblemen — never once misjudging anyone. He concluded that Gu Yankai was an upright, kind, honest, and courageous man, worthy of being a good husband. Though his first wife had died — that was no rare thing. Old Master Bai had lost wives too, two of them in fact, and here he was getting on perfectly well — finding the right companions, taking concubines as he pleased. They said the son-in-law had been deeply devoted to his first wife — that was also fine. Men have no steadfastness; once his own daughter — blooming and radiant — was in the picture, given enough time, the old feelings would fade. With such a fine wife at his side going forward, nothing from the past would fail to grow distant in time.

What happened next, Gu Tingye had already told Minglan long ago.

The wedding was held in the southwest, and so none of the family’s friends and relations in the capital were invited. Bai Shi did not live to see time make all things fade — before she was even twenty, she was gone, leaving behind a child with no one to look after him. By the time Old Master Bai arrived from Haining, there was only his daughter’s coffin to greet him. Stricken with fury that attacked his heart, yet already too old and feeble to seek justice for his daughter, he passed away not long after.

Several more years went by. Gu Yankai married a third time — another daughter of the Qin household. By the time Gu Tingwei was seven or eight years old, an imperial edict summoned him back to the capital. He returned to the Gu estate, bringing Xiao Qin Shi and his youngest daughter with him. Not long afterward, the old Marquis and Marchioness died one after the other within a short interval, and he succeeded to the title as the new Marquis Ningyuan. Under a deliberate veil of silence, very few people ever knew that between the two Marchionesses Qin there had been a Marchioness Bai. For whatever reason, Gu Yankai had, intentionally or otherwise, guided others to assume that Gu Tingye was also a child of the Qin household.

Gu Tingcan was his last child, and also his most beloved. In truth, aside from the physical resemblance, the rest of her habits and temperament, even her very nature, did not particularly resemble Da Qin Shi. Yet under the conscious or unconscious shaping of her parents’ hopes, she had, without realizing it, begun to imitate a woman who had long since died.

Children possess a remarkably keen instinct. They naturally seek to attract more attention. For Gu Tingcan, the more her every word and action resembled Da Qin Shi, the more her father doted on her and fulfilled her every wish — and by extension, her mother also benefited. At times, when the Old Madam wished to accomplish something, she would send her youngest daughter to speak to the old Marquis on her behalf, and it was nearly always successful.

Minglan gave a cold laugh inwardly. A truly unworldly young talent, cold and proud, would simply have no care for the trivial matters of this mortal world — the squabbling between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law, sisters-in-law at odds, would be nothing but passing clouds. She, in her annoyance that her mother had been put at a disadvantage, had devised ways to make things difficult for her sisters-in-law… hmph. What a pity — the imitation of a tiger had produced something not quite a tiger, and the result was neither here nor there.

Shao Shi hurried to catch up with her from behind: “But what on earth can we give her? She’s practically covered all the bases.”

Minglan looked back with a smile: “That’s easy enough — give silver. Simple and effortless. And Younger Sister has truly been thoughtful — sparing me the trouble of racking my brains. Just give silver. In future, when one brings it up, simply state a number — equivalent in value, yet far more impressive.” It suited her perfectly. If she were to send many fine and costly objects, mentioning them later would still be awkward. Just give silver — a straightforward number, same value, far more striking when announced.

Shao Shi was startled: “Silver?” Tingcan had always despised these yellow and white materials. Suddenly a thought struck her — and besides, what store of ready silver did she herself have on hand? “How much silver ought to be given?” She worried.

Minglan took her arm in hers and said reassuringly: “I am the one who is giving silver. If Elder Sister-in-Law considers it a kindness to me, please don’t double up — give something different from what I give.”

“Then what should I give?” Shao Shi was at a loss.

“Choose a few honest and loyal servants from among your own people and give them to Younger Sister as dowry attendants — wouldn’t that be the thing?”