A bitter, pungent taste seeped between her teeth and cheeks, and Minglan slowly regained consciousness. The first thing she saw was Nanny Cui’s anxious face hovering over her; she was holding a small copper-bodied enamel-spouted pot, pouring ginseng soup into her mouth, murmuring, “Madam, are you alright?”

Minglan waved her hand weakly. Her mind had been racing earlier, thinking until she grew dizzy and light-headed, and then she had labored for nearly seven or eight hours — like an old ox hauling a cart — as though she had spent days preparing for a mathematics olympiad finals, then immediately run a full marathon. Both body and spirit had been pushed to their absolute limit, and so she had fallen into an utterly exhausted slumber. Now she struggled to sit up, feeling limp all over, her voice hoarse and faint. “Let me see the child.”

The midwife at her side quickly brought over a tightly swaddled bundle, her face wreathed in smiles, saying repeatedly, “It’s a plump little boy, fair and handsome! Congratulations, Madam, congratulations!”

Minglan’s arms had no strength; she could only look with the help of Nanny Cui’s arm. She couldn’t help but smile ruefully — what was fair and handsome about this red, wrinkled little lump of flesh? Still, he was undeniably robust — round-headed and chubby-faced, with a clearly defined nose bridge, and beneath his swollen eyelids ran a long, gracefully curved line. It was hard to make out his features clearly; he simply kept making little animal-like sounds.

“He cried so vigorously just now — his voice nearly shook the roof off! He’s a sturdy little boy!” Nanny Cui laughed until tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. “He must have tired himself out crying.”

Minglan nodded weakly, doing her best to remain composed. “Rewards! Everyone has worked hard — reward them all handsomely!”

The maids and matrons in the room bowed their thanks in unison.

Minglan caught her breath, leaning back against the soft cushion, and with great effort drew the tiny creature into her arms. She loosened her garment to let him try to suckle. The matrons nearby looked somewhat baffled — what great lady nursed her own child? — but Nanny Cui was already there, helping to support the baby. After countless debates, she had long since been convinced. A wet nurse had still been engaged, but Minglan wanted to try feeding him herself first. It was said that colostrum was extraordinarily beneficial — good for the body and for building immunity. In this era, where infant mortality rates were universally high and there was not a single antibiotic or vaccine to be found, Minglan could not afford to pass it up. Besides, with no in-laws above her to oversee her and no sisters-in-law beside her to obstruct her, if she didn’t exercise her authority now, when would she?

The little creature was soft beyond belief. The moment his squirming little mouth touched his mother’s skin, it seemed to react instinctively — he nuzzled and rooted around, beginning to suckle. His strength wasn’t great, but one could see he was trying with everything he had. They switched sides several times, yet the little one remained tenaciously persistent. Twice he paused to scrunch up his face and let out a few wails — a protest against doing all this work for nothing — before burying his head and continuing to suckle in earnest, his toothless little gums clamping down on his food source, his round little head pressing indefatigably against her chest. Minglan felt both amused and moved. She kissed his bald little head — this was a strong, tenacious little life.

After Nanny Cui and two matrons had said “give it up” eleven times in turns, the little rascal’s efforts finally bore fruit: he had drawn out the precious colostrum. Watching the little one squeeze his eyes shut and swallow with all his might, scalding tears suddenly overflowed from Minglan’s eyes. For this little bundle of flesh, she felt in that moment that no amount of suffering had been too much. Nanny Cui turned away and quietly wiped her own tears.

Minglan was so exhausted she was nearly drained of all strength. She looked and looked at the child — from his translucent pink little fingers and toes all the way to his crumpled little ears. Newborns cannot take much, and after handing him to Nanny Cui, Minglan lay back down to sleep. From first to last she had not noticed that the towering blaze outside was long gone, replaced by the calm, steady glow of lanterns. Though had she noticed, she probably would have said simply, “Well done, Second Master Tu — you’ll be generously rewarded.”

Minglan was, by nature, extraordinarily unvigilant. That sleep stretched on and on. When she woke again, it was full daylight. The smell of blood and filth that had pervaded the room was gone; she also felt considerably cleaner and fresher, for Nanny Cui had evidently used the time while she slept to clean the sweat and grime from her body. Sitting at the bedside was a tall man with a face full of stubble, staring fixedly at a large bundle resting on the pillow beside her. One of his hands was half-extended, as though he wanted to touch the bundle, yet he did not know how to go about it.

Minglan steadied herself and took a good look. All at once a rush of anger surged through her — every hardship and difficulty of these past days rose up at once, and she laid the blame for all of it on this useless man. Unmindful of her parched throat, she felt an inexplicable surge of energy and launched into him: “You faithless wretch, you’ve finally deigned to come back! What did you say when you left? Now that the world is at peace, you turn up! You, you—”

There were still several maids and matrons standing in the room. Nanny Cui was thoroughly embarrassed and quickly had Danju usher everyone out. Gu Tingye, however, was quite thick-skinned and took no offense at all; he smiled and pressed Minglan back down onto the bed. “You’re utterly exhausted — don’t get up. You can scold me just as well lying down.”

Minglan could only wish she could lunge at him and bite him. But then she noticed he was gazing at the large bundle with an expression of the deepest tenderness, and when she turned her head, she saw that the small infant was lying right there beside her on the pillow — his damp little mouth moved, and he blew two tiny bubbles, sleeping sweetly with eyes closed.

“He’s truly beautiful. His arms and legs are strong, and he’s clever too.”

The tenderness in Gu Tingye’s gaze was so soft it seemed it could drip water. He could not help but mentally fill in the round, rosy, chubby little bundle as a prodigy of exceptional genius, martial prowess, and extraordinary constitution. In a fit of indulgent affection, he even smiled and gently chided Minglan: “Let’s speak quietly — we don’t want to disturb him.” Minglan nearly burst out laughing at that.

Gu Tingye went on staring raptly at the child, then said to Minglan, “You have no idea how much vigor this little one has. His crying was so loud I could hear it from outside the courtyard gate. When he grows up, he’ll surely be a man capable of shouldering great responsibilities on his own.”

Minglan’s instinctive first thought was to retort that a powerful cry at best qualified one to become a vocalist — it had nothing to do with shouldering great responsibilities — but then her heart gave a sudden start of surprise, and she asked, “When did you get back?”

Gu Tingye finally deigned to look up at her, and the smile on his face vanished at once. “When the fire broke out in the mansion.”

Minglan’s expression sobered. She looked Gu Tingye up and down and noticed he was wearing a half-worn ink-black robe, his face weathered and travel-worn, the riding boots on his feet cracked and battered all over. Only then did she remember their present circumstances, and she struggled to sit up again. “Right — there was a fire outside… and Madam… and the Yu Family…” A tangle of loose threads — she didn’t know where to begin.

Gu Tingye felt a pang of tender concern. He helped Minglan sit up, tucked a thick cushion behind her back, and said softly, “Don’t be alarmed. I’m back now — everything has me to deal with. I’ve put you through such hardship; it’s all my fault.” Minglan felt her nose sting, and her eyes grew wet. She lowered her head and turned her face aside, letting the thick soft pillow absorb the tears on her cheeks. Seeing this, Gu Tingye felt no small amount of distress himself. He was never one for speaking tender words to women, and could only lean in and hold Minglan tightly, gently patting her back.

To say she had not been hard done by would be a lie. Yao Yiyi remembered clearly the circumstances of her two closest friends during their own pregnancies. The husband of the first was a criminal investigator; for the sake of his wife who craved sugared canned fruit in the middle of the night, he actually put on his uniform and went in the dead of night to pound furiously on the door of the little shop downstairs in their compound, half scaring the elderly couple who ran it to death. The second friend’s case was even more outrageous: in the middle of the afternoon she was desperately craving fried dough sticks, so her husband from the tax bureau had no choice but to put on his uniform, red vouchers in hand, and through a combination of persuasion and pressure convince a vendor selling lunch to set up his oil vat all over again. But what about her?

Minglan buried her face against Gu Tingye’s shoulder and neck, weeping softly. Her husband had vanished without a trace, his fate unknown. At home there was a viper in sheep’s clothing of a stepmother-in-law to contend with. She had been fighting battles of wits and stratagems every single day, worn to the bone. She had been frightened, and she had worried. If her own mental fortitude had not been up to the mark and she hadn’t endured, just try to imagine what would have happened to someone else!

Nanny Cui could see things were going awry and hurried forward to intervene. “Madam, it’s bad to weep during the postnatal month — do stop, do stop. If you fall ill afterward, it won’t be a small matter!” Gu Tingye was anxious too, and quickly turned Minglan’s face toward him, frantically wiping away her tears while urging her again and again not to cry. He was, as ever, not one for speaking tender words to women. He thought for a long while and could only resort to an indirect approach: “What good does crying do? An eye for an eye is the way. When you’ve fully recovered, I’ll let you beat me soundly a few times to vent your anger. I promise I won’t fight back!”

Minglan’s face hurt from his wiping, and she found it funny in spite of herself, and scolded him, “Are you kneading dough? Let go!” She knew full well that things had not been easy for him out there either — it was hard to win renown in this world.

“Was the business in the south finished?” Minglan composed herself and took the warm, damp cloth Nanny Cui handed her to wipe her face. She absolutely did not want it said that he had abandoned his duties and rushed back, lest their son had barely come into the world before his father got a harsh dressing-down from the Emperor.

Gu Tingye bent down and kissed the sleeping little face of his son. The little fellow made a vague mumbling sound, still with eyes tightly shut, squirmed his round little body uncomfortably, and blew two more bubbles in protest. Gu Tingye rubbed the stubble on his own face and laughed without the least dignity. Then he indicated for Nanny Cui to take the child away, and turned to Minglan. “The official business is naturally finished. But if it weren’t for the person in Xuanzhi Garden, I could not have come back this early.”

Minglan gave a slight sigh of relief. She had a stomach full of questions and could not sort through them all at once, so she could only ask about the most immediate matter: “What do you mean? Oh — and the case involving young General Duan — was it resolved? Has he come back?”

Gu Tingye smiled. “The case of Chengyong’s younger brother was a small matter.”

“You didn’t beat a confession out of him, did you?” Minglan joked. After all, a life had been lost — and an innocent woman’s life, at that. She expected Gu Tingye would at least roll his eyes at her, but to her surprise he let out a long sigh instead. “At the time, the circumstances were strange and urgent. I had originally considered doing exactly that. Fortunately, I dragged Master Gongsun along with me.”

Gu Tingye was of decent birth, but the setbacks of his youth had given him a degree of self-awareness uncommon among young men of wealth and privilege. He was skilled in military command, but not in judicial investigation, and so he absolutely had to take Gongsun with him. Gongsun Baishi — who claimed to have spent over twenty years studying criminal investigation — identified two suspicious points in the matter.

First, whether the deceased peasant woman had been coerced. Second, whether the restaurant had been routinely ordering fish from that particular household.

Minglan chewed on this carefully and felt these two points cut straight to the heart of the matter. She couldn’t help but clap her hands in admiration. Gu Tingye made sure to tell the story in a way full of dramatic twists and turns, making Minglan laugh and be entertained, with no leisure left for grief or worry.

Upon arriving, they first went to see Duan Chengyong, who was in a state like a caged beast. They questioned him about the sequence of events, then immediately sent men to investigate. They split into two groups: Master Gongsun, escorted by guards, conducted both open inquiries and covert ones, while Gu Tingye went to meet the local military officers large and small. Since drinking was unavoidable, some insisted on hosting banquets on their own turf. For reasons unknown, from the regional commander all the way down to the local garrison commander and the roving generals, each and every one of these military men was astonishingly restrained, drinking sparingly and primly, refusing more; and when pretty serving girls wove among the tables, not one of them spared them a second glance.

“I suppose they were afraid the Marquis would give them a taste of what he gave young General Duan,” Minglan said, amused, covering her mouth with a light smile. Gu Tingye also found it funny. “What petty little minds.” He had only wanted to keep them occupied, so the investigation would proceed without interference.

Between covert inquiries in disguise and confessions obtained during official interrogation, within just a few days Gongsun Baishi had discerned the key details and swiftly cracked the case.

First: although the deceased woman was unquestionably an ordinary, respectable civilian, that restaurant had always ordered its fish from a certain fish market in town — and it had placed an extra order from this particular fishing family only in those specific few days. Second: when all the male members of the woman’s household — her father-in-law, husband, brothers-in-law — were perfectly well and present, why would a woman be sent alone to collect payment, and at a restaurant of all places?

Starting from these two suspicious points, they prized open a crack in the confessions. What followed was a painstaking process of pulling the thread to unravel the whole tangled mess. Feudal magistrates conducting an investigation naturally could not do without a combination of intimidation and inducement, along with some punishing strokes to put fear into witnesses — but the truth ultimately surfaced.

It turned out someone had seized the woman’s pair of children and, with a promised reward, had coerced her into laying a false accusation and taking her own life to make it stick. Once the deed was done, the children were to be returned and money sent. The fishing family, knowing full well that falsely accusing an official was a capital crime, dared not speak the truth, and could only stick rigidly to their story.

“In the end, only one garrison officer stepped forward to take the blame.” Gu Tingye’s tone was laced with cold contempt. “He claimed he had been incensed by Chengyong’s disrespect toward the local garrison officers and had only intended to make sport of him — he had never anticipated that the woman would be of such fierce character and take her own life, causing this catastrophe. Hmph — unfortunately there was no evidence to prove they had deliberately driven the woman to her death, so in the end there was nothing to be done but strip that man of his post and impose a penalty.”

Minglan’s heart ached. “It’s only that poor fishing family I feel for — struck by such a bolt from the blue, their home destroyed and family shattered for no reason.”

Gu Tingye shook his head and sighed as well. “Master Gongsun had them take the money and start anew somewhere else.” Noticing Minglan’s expression, he reached out and drew her close, settling her beside him on the edge of the bed, and said quietly, “So you’re not angry with me anymore?”

Minglan lay in his arms, breathing in the scent of dust and sweat, and said softly, “I know it was difficult for you too. You… you weren’t injured, were you?” She sat up straight and felt along his arms and chest. “I only wished you could have come back sooner.” Gu Tingye was quiet for a long while before he said, “I had no idea, until I went there, how utterly rotten the official circles of the Huai region had become.”

After nearly twenty years of the Renzong Emperor’s peaceful reign, the local scene was one not only of collusion between officials and merchants, but also of collusion between civil and military officials — connected to everything from city gangs all the way up to the capital’s hereditary nobility, with not one thread left unpulled. No matter which case you investigated, the vines and tendrils invariably led to an enormous tangled web. Even the imperial envoy — personally selected by the Emperor for his iron resolve — found himself overwhelmed and harried without end. After rescuing Duan Chengyong, Gu Tingye had wanted to return to the capital to be with his wife, but the imperial envoy had repeatedly entreated him to stay a while longer, to help break open the situation.

“The Marquis toils for the sake of the nation and the people — truly admirable. So why did he come back in the end?” Minglan’s tone was decidedly sour. Gu Tingye replied as a matter of course, “I had to come see my son.” Minglan erupted in fury, propped herself up, and shoved him with all her might. “Your son is in the next room — go on then! What are you doing planted here by me!” Gu Tingye laughed heartily, wrapping his arms around Minglan and refusing to let go, kissing her cheeks over and over.

In the adjoining room, Nanny Cui was gently patting the infant to sleep. Hearing the laughter and commotion coming through the wall, she smiled with deep contentment and gave a fond shake of her head. The newly hired wet nurse looked somewhat bewildered, but the maids and matrons who had been in the household longer were entirely unsurprised.

“The situation in the Huai region is truly intolerable — it urgently needs to be thoroughly overhauled. I had originally intended to stay longer and send someone back to the capital first to report. But then…” Gu Tingye held Minglan in his arms and continued his account unhurriedly, “The person in Xuanzhi Garden gave me a warning.”

In fact, few people knew this — but from the very first day he had taken command of troops, Gu Tingye had made a habit of rooting out informants. At that time, the new Emperor had only just ascended the throne and his position was not yet stable; inside and out, there were countless those with ulterior motives. It was easy to guard against open attacks but hard to guard against arrows shot from the dark, and it was so often those closest to you who did the most damage. On this trip to the Huai region, he had successively uncovered four different rings of people relaying information — all backed by the same web of overt and covert powers. That was not surprising in the least. But most recently, a man had been caught and upon interrogation confessed that he had been directed by the Ningyuan Marquis Mansion.

When he pressed this informant further, the man couldn’t name the person who had given him orders in person. In truth, Gu Tingye did not need to ask — he knew very well who it was. If that person had already managed to plant someone in his inner circle, then what about Minglan… The thought had sent a cold sweat running down his back. The moment this crossed his mind, he was resolved to return to the capital at once. After all, he had already completed the assignments the Emperor had tasked him with, and every secret memorial he had submitted reporting on the investigation into the salt affairs had met with repeated praise from the Emperor.

The imperial envoy, being a sensible man, judged that the situation was already under control and did not try too hard to detain Gu Tingye. He only kept Duan Chengyong behind, saying, “Rather than bring in someone who doesn’t know the lay of the land, it’s better to have young General Duan — who has already taken a knock — stay on.” Duan Chengyong was more than willing; he had barely managed to get an assignment, only to suffer a humiliating defeat without a single merit to show for it, and had been wondering ever since how to get back what he had lost.

Gu Tingye could only give Duan Chengyong a thorough set of parting instructions, leave Gongsun Baishi behind to make his way back at a slower pace, and then lead a small escort of guards to set out at full gallop himself.

What followed had been truly harrowing. After days of hard riding, he had just reached the entrance to Ningyuan Street when he saw great billows of black smoke rising above his own mansion. People crowded every lane and alley, running and shouting, “The Marquis Mansion is on fire!” Gu Tingye’s heart seized with fear. Without a second thought, he drove his horse straight through into Cheng Garden, where he learned that Minglan was in the midst of labor inside. Fortunately, Second Master Tu and the household guards had proved their worth, holding the perimeter around Jiaxi Residence steadfastly, so the fire had not spread to the area. Only then did he let out a breath of relief. He then looked toward Xuanzhi Garden and found it calm and undisturbed — yet Cheng Garden was in complete chaos. An overwhelming rage seized him, and in that fury, he… set another fire.

“You — you — you actually went and set a fire?!” Minglan stared in shock. Her wife in labor, and her husband running off to start a fire — this was not the sort of ingenious idea that most people could come up with. Gu Tingye smiled, pushed Minglan back down, tucked the brocade quilt around her, rose, and poured a cup of warm water from the small clay teapot on the table, handing it to Minglan. “Thirsty?”

Minglan drank half the cup in one go, then numbly returned the teacup. Gu Tingye took it and drained the rest in one swallow.

“Hao the steward has given me a brief account of these past days’ events.” Gu Tingye set down the teacup and sat beside her, gently rubbing her back. “One thing after another — that vicious woman was determined to torment you. How could one be sure that after this great fire she would simply settle down? What if she had further moves prepared? And so I decided to keep her running around in a panic.”

“She’s a crafty one — how could she be caught out so easily?” Minglan said, still shaken. By now her opinion of Madam had risen to an entirely new level. Gu Tingye laughed. “Who said I went to burn her? I went and set a fire in my younger brother’s courtyard.”

It was not yet late that evening when the fire started, and every person in the courtyard had gotten out safely; unfortunately quite a few valuables were destroyed. Seeing her own flesh and blood in jeopardy, Madam’s composure broke, and she no longer had attention to spare for anything else. She was busy trying to put out the fire on one hand, and checking whether her son was safe on the other, and then there was comforting her grandchildren to attend to.

Minglan let out a soft sigh. Attack was the best defense — she understood that well enough. But she had always been hamstrung — deliberately setting fire to someone’s property was a criminal offense! If there had been deaths or injuries, the maximum penalty could be life imprisonment or even execution!

“As long as no one was hurt,” Minglan murmured.

Gu Tingye said with cold contempt, “You’re concerned about them too?!”

Cheng Garden ablaze, Minglan struggling through the life-or-death passage of childbirth, and Tingwei and Zhu Shi had been leisurely playing with the children! At the thought of this, a murderous fury rose in Gu Tingye’s chest — he could only think that a blade would be more satisfying. Minglan lowered her head. Aside from sighing, there was nothing she could say.

“Still, that child Xian is a girl with some conscience.” Gu Tingye’s face finally softened slightly. “Young as she is, she actually dared to argue with her elder sister-in-law. She reproached her own mother for not coming to see you, and the moment the fire started here, she stood up to her sister-in-law and dispatched most of the servants from their rooms to help fight the fire. Rong Jie’er is with her right now.” He marveled privately — his own dark and sinister eldest brother, with a belly full of rotten schemes, had somehow managed to produce such an upright and honorable shoot. That was genuinely astonishing.

Minglan finally let out a long, relieved breath. This world was not as utterly hopeless as it sometimes seemed! She said cheerfully, “I never expected much of Sister-in-law in the first place — she is, after all, a widow, and has many things to be cautious about. I’ve always said — I simply like that child.”

Gu Tingye smiled gently and stroked her long hair. It was simply a case of like attracting like.

After talking for so long, Minglan felt weary again; now that her mind was completely at ease, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Gu Tingye patted her gently until she drifted off into deep sleep, then slowly rose and took his leave.

Outside the door someone had long been waiting. Hao the steward said with a smile, “This subordinate reports to the Marquis — the person has been settled. Does the Marquis wish to go and see—” Gu Tingye shot him a cool glance. Hao Dacheng immediately broke into a cold sweat, quickly wiped the smile from his face, bowed his head, and said, “Yes, Marquis — this way, please.”

Threading through the flowers and foliage, at the rear of Cheng Garden there lay a neat and sturdy row of servants’ quarters. As the Gu household had few members, these rooms stood mostly empty and were used occasionally for storing odds and ends. Hao Dacheng led the way, and Gu Tingye followed at a measured pace. After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they arrived at a room at the eastern corner of the row. Four or five stout matrons stood watch at the door; seeing Gu Tingye approach, they promptly bowed low.

Hao Dacheng asked quietly, “Is everything alright inside?” The foremost matron replied, “This subordinate reports to the Marquis — a physician has already seen to them. Nothing serious. Miss Man suffered some minor cuts and bruises; the young master was somewhat frightened.”

Hao Dacheng glanced at Gu Tingye again, waved for the matrons to withdraw, went forward and opened the door, invited Gu Tingye inside, and then stood guard outside, five paces from the door.

The room’s furnishings were simple: one table, four stools, a bed, a dressing table with a washstand, a full set of washing and grooming implements, tea and refreshments on the table, and an ice basin set in the corner. Man Niang was sitting against the bed with the child in her arms. At the sound of the door opening, she immediately looked up, and the moment she saw it was Gu Tingye, her face lit up with joy. With one hand she smoothed the hair at her temple and with the other she rose to her feet, choking out, “Second young master!”

Gu Tingye stood where he was and watched her in silence for a moment, then pulled over a stool and sat down.

Man Niang quickly pushed the child forward, saying urgently, “Chang Ge’er, call Father — go on, call him.” The little boy hung back shyly, inching his feet forward, studying the man before him warily, but hesitating to come close. Man Niang smiled at Gu Tingye. “This child is timid. At home he always talks about Father, but now that Father is here he doesn’t know how to say it.”

Gu Tingye gazed at the boy for a moment, then gentled his voice. “Is the coughing any better these days?”

Chang Ge’er looked up uneasily, glancing first at his father, then at his mother, and stammered hesitantly: “…Sometimes I cough, sometimes I don’t… Mother makes me take medicine… the medicine is very bitter…”

Hearing the disjointed reply, Gu Tingye couldn’t help but frown. The boy was seven or eight years old and couldn’t even manage a coherent answer. He turned to Man Niang. “Didn’t I arrange a tutor for him? What is he studying now?”

Man Niang’s heart lurched with anxiety, but she was quick on her feet and immediately let tears fall. “It’s my own failure — I know barely a handful of characters myself, so what kind of upbringing could I provide? That is exactly why I shamelessly came here to beg Madam to take the child in.”

“Nonsense!” Gu Tingye rebuked her immediately. “How many illiterate mothers have nevertheless raised sons who passed the imperial examinations? Surely not every man who achieved first or second rank in those examinations had a mother who could read?”

He had long commanded troops and held authority over all those above and below him; his presence had long since become one of imposing authority, both within and without. With this single stern rebuke, Chang Ge’er was immediately so frightened that he scurried behind Man Niang’s back and cowered there trembling. Seeing this, Gu Tingye’s frown deepened further. “I deliberately chose a manor with a mild and pleasant climate, precisely so Chang Ge’er could go outdoors more and run about. Why is he still so afraid of people?”

Man Niang dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief, weeping until she could barely speak. “A child without a father — going out only means being bullied. He’s always been gentle by nature. What was the point in having him go out and make a spectacle of himself?”

Gu Tingye did not reply. He watched Man Niang steadily — her eyes red and swollen from weeping, her breath heaving between sobs, her voice a continuous lament. Even the sharpest eyes would have struggled to distinguish truth from performance. Yet he knew the reality was different. That manor had been carefully chosen by him. Not only were there already many orphans and widows whose husbands had died in battle living nearby, but the land itself was registered under Chang Ge’er’s name — who would dare bully them?

Yet Man Niang had this particular gift: if one was not vigilant, her tears and explanations would wind themselves around you before you knew it.

“Someone come.” He suddenly raised his voice. Hao Dacheng opened the door and entered, head lowered, awaiting instructions.

Gu Tingye said, “Take the child outside first, and have the matrons look after him properly.” Hao Dacheng understood that the Marquis wished to speak with Man Niang alone, and quickly had a matron carry Chang Ge’er out. Chang Ge’er was reluctant at first, but after a few soothing words from Man Niang, he left with a lingering, backward glance.

The door closed again. Only two people remained in the room.

Man Niang stood in the middle of the room, her face a picture of apprehension. Gu Tingye pointed at a stool: “Sit.”

She slowly sat down.

“In the beginning—” Gu Tingye wore an expression of weary fatigue, “did I ever force you to give yourself to me?”

Man Niang startled, almost jumping to her feet. After a long moment, her eyes grew red at the rims. “How can Second Young Master say such a thing? If not for Second Young Master’s compassion for my loneliness and hardship, I would not have known where I might have perished long ago. It was I myself… who was willing to follow Second Young Master…”

“The result was a farce. Your elder brother never abandoned you at all. It was you who gave him money and sent him away to make his fortune elsewhere.” A note of bitter self-mockery rose in Gu Tingye’s chest. How hot-blooded and arrogant he had been in his youth — how he had fancied himself a hero, rescuing a frail young woman from a conflagration.

“No, no…” Man Niang argued urgently. “Who has been slandering me? It was clearly my brother who took Second Young Master’s money, threw me aside, and ran off on his own — he didn’t return until years later. Second Young Master, you—”

Gu Tingye raised a hand to cut her off and said dispassionately, “Several people said the same. Your elder brother, Nanny Dan, and the servant girl who used to attend you. In those two years when you claimed your brother had vanished without a word, the two of you were still regularly sending each other gifts.”

Man Niang’s face went pale. She had not expected he had found even that out. Gu Tingye looked at her, and within him was a strange, absolute calm. “When Yan Hong died, I told you already — I would not condemn a person on empty words alone. Especially not you.”

How could he have wished to believe that he had misjudged a person — that he had been living inside a lie for so many years — that he had been played for a fool all this while, like a doll in someone’s hands? Each time his father had pointed at Man Niang and cursed her, each time everyone around him said Man Niang had ulterior motives, he had argued on her behalf time and again, vouching for her character and her heart. And in the end it turned out he had been entirely wrong in every single instance. What an utter humiliation.

“Did I ever promise you anything?” Gu Tingye pressed on, his gaze like a needle, pinning Man Niang to her seat, pinning lies to truth. “Did I ever say I would take you as my wife? Did I deceive you?”

Sweat ran down Man Niang’s forehead, spreading and smearing the careful makeup she had applied only moments before.

“From the very beginning I told you I could not give you a formal status. You said that as long as you could remain by my side, you were willing to have no name and no standing.” Recalling those words now, each and every one seemed like madness. How he had believed them all — had truly thought he had found a kindred spirit, a woman of genuine and wholehearted feeling. “Later, when Rong’er and Chang’er came, you said again — not for yourself, but for the sake of the children — you begged to enter the household as a concubine. Afraid you and the children would be mistreated, I made inquiries and learned that the eldest daughter of the Yu Family was a virtuous woman, and so I entreated my father to arrange the marriage. But who would have thought—”

Gu Tingye laughed at himself with cold mockery, then looked at Man Niang. “You didn’t think the match was good enough.”

“Second Young Master!” Man Niang called out in anguish. She threw herself forward, clutching his legs, and looked up at him with eyes brimming with tears. “Going to the Yu Family — that was a moment of foolishness on my part. I was afraid in my heart — afraid that the eldest Miss Yu would not tolerate me — and in my confusion I lost my judgment!”

“You have never once lost your judgment.”

Gu Tingye did not move a single finger, only looked coldly down at her. “Step by step, move by move — you calculated everything with perfect clarity. In the end you got what you wanted from me. I abandoned my father and left home. Had I not harbored suspicions about you — had the matter of Yan Hong not occurred — I would have done exactly as you had planned: taken you and run away to the ends of the earth. And then made you my wife, is that right?” Each word was a sword-thrust, reducing Man Niang to speechless silence.

“…And what would have been wrong with that?”

A strange light began to fill Man Niang’s eyes. She rubbed her face softly against Gu Tingye’s knee, her voice melodious and unhurried, like a song: “Back then, everyone in the Ningyuan Marquis Mansion bullied you. Only I treated Second Young Master with a true heart. I did not care for the wealth and prestige of the Marquis Mansion. I only wanted Second Young Master. The two of us could go far away from all of this together and establish our own household. You have more than enough ability — and with our family of four, living in warm and loving harmony, a pair of blissful spouses living like immortals — what would have been wrong with that?”

“Well said.” Gu Tingye looked at Man Niang with her face pillowed against his knee, and slowly reached down to tilt her head up. “Your scheme was clever. But did you ever once ask me — whether I was willing to live such a life?”

Man Niang’s breathing suddenly quickened, and her eyes began to dart away. Gu Tingye twisted her face toward him and looked at her steadily, enunciating each word with deliberate care. “I am telling you plainly today: there has not been a single day of my life when I ever thought of taking you as my wife.”

Even in the most harmonious moments between them, the very most he had ever wished was to treat this pitiable woman well — to ensure that her future days were ones of comfort and security, that she would no longer be at anyone’s mercy.

Man Niang’s pupils dilated sharply. Her mouth opened and closed several times, her nostrils flaring and contracting, and then without warning she let out a sharp cry. “You don’t want to marry me? Then who do you want to marry? Those women who know nothing but household gossip, who consider themselves so superior, who are petty, dull-witted, and utterly commonplace?!”

Hearing this, Gu Tingye actually smiled. “You are precisely right — I want exactly such a commonplace woman. One who can support her husband and nurture her children, manage the household properly, look after the extended family, and handle social obligations with grace. A warm, steady, commonplace woman. Not a remarkable and formidable woman such as yourself.”

The mockery embedded in his words was unmistakable. Man Niang was strangled into silence, nearly suffocating. Within her, hatred blazed so fiercely she could have clawed blood. She swallowed a mouthful of air with great difficulty, drew a shuddering breath, and slumped to the floor in despair. With a mournful wail, she said: “You simply think I have grown old and faded, and your new Madam is young and beautiful, so you’ve changed your heart. So be it — go ahead and change your heart. But what need is there to say all these things? Men throughout history have been faithless — it is only I who am pitiable, having given my whole heart to you, only to end up like this.”

Gu Tingye couldn’t help laughing again. He had often thought that if Man Niang had been born a man, she would have been a formidable opponent — for every time he made up his mind to say something definitive and final, she would always manage to deflect the conversation, preventing it from going where he intended.

“Your whole heart? Ha. Because of this whole heart of yours, I have always felt guilty toward you and considered your interests in all things.” Gu Tingye stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, and stood facing the window. “Yet these past years, when I have thought carefully — had I not intervened back then, what would have become of you?”

Man Niang held her handkerchief to her face, but her heart was in turmoil. Without Gu Tingye’s help back then, her own circumstances, and her brother’s, would have been unbearable indeed.

“For your sake I plotted and planned time and again, wanting to provide a good life for you and the children; and several times I defied my elders — in the end I did not even see my own father’s face for the last time.” Gu Tingye moved slowly about the room, then came to a stop before Man Niang. “I have done right by you. I have always done right by you.”

In those early days of wandering, no matter how tight the money was, he would rather go without decent clothes or food for himself and still save out a portion to send back to the capital for Man Niang and her child. Until today — today he could say these words with a clear conscience.

Man Niang could hear Gu Tingye’s voice growing colder and colder, and sensed that today did not bode well. She had to find a way to turn things around. She cried out in piteous supplication: “I was wrong about what I did back then — I admit it. I only beg Second Young Master, for the sake of the children, to show some pity… Oh, Rong Jie’er — she and Chang Ge’er haven’t seen each other in so long. They have been close since they were small children — how can you bear to separate them!”

“They have already been separated for so many years and have not perished from it.” Gu Tingye said calmly. “Moreover, Rong Jie’er now has a little brother.”

Man Niang jerked her head up. “The new Madam has given birth to a…boy.”

A look of cold ferocity surfaced in Gu Tingye’s eyes. “Not as you hoped — mother and child are both well.”

Man Niang looked as though the life had been drained from her. Then suddenly she straightened up and seized Gu Tingye’s legs in a death grip, crying out shrilly, “Now that Second Young Master has a legitimate heir, is Chang Ge’er to be abandoned?! Have you forgotten — when he was small, you held him, you kissed him!”

Gu Tingye’s expression was unreadable, his voice hard and cold. “I did ask for him. Have you forgotten? Before I married the Sheng family’s daughter, I discussed it with you in perfectly civil terms. I said I would bring Chang’er here to live with me — that Minglan would treat him well, and I would give him proper guidance. It was you who refused unto death. Have you forgotten that?”

“How ruthless of Second Young Master — even if the new wife has replaced the old, you cannot simply tear apart a mother and her child!” Man Niang wept and wailed. “If Madam Sheng is truly as kind-hearted as you say, why can she not take me in as well?”

“It is I who do not trust you.” Gu Tingye said coldly. “You already drove me to widowhood once — do you want me to become a widower a second time? What was your purpose in coming into this mansion? And you dared to carry the child and charge at Madam — do you think I don’t know your intentions?”

Man Niang had nothing to say. She could only weep, “It truly was Madam Sheng who tried to burn me to death!”

“It was Madam Qin who tried to burn you to death!” Gu Tingye cut her off with a sharp cry. Had he not set a fire in Tingwei’s courtyard — leaving Madam too preoccupied to act — those two would likely have been burned to death. “You clearly saw Nanny Xiang leading people over to lay the firewood. At a moment like that, you still couldn’t resist trying to pin the blame on someone else — what a viper’s heart!”

“Second Young Master! Second Young Master!” Man Niang clutched at the hem of Gu Tingye’s robe and pleaded desperately, “I am wicked, I know it — but Chang Ge’er is still your own flesh and blood. Can you bear to leave him out in the cold? I need not enter the mansion — just let Chang Ge’er be acknowledged by the family. I ask only to see him once a month — no, once a year — no, no, I won’t even ask for that!”

“No.” Gu Tingye turned his back to her, refusing without the slightest hesitation. “After the scene you have made here, how is Minglan to raise Chang Ge’er?” And he did not trust Chang Ge’er either — a boy of seven or eight could easily develop grievances; he himself had known, at age seven, to throw cockleburs into Tingwei’s small bed. Besides, the boy’s character was already half-formed. If hatred had taken root, it would fester and grow. As the boy grew older, it would be like having a source of danger lying at his side. Bluntly put: he would not place his legitimate heir at risk.

Man Niang stopped crying. In a single motion she wiped away every tear, and smiled a cold smile. “Minglan this, Minglan that — she is your precious darling now. But how do you know you haven’t misjudged this one too? Perhaps she is also someone who can put on a fine performance!”

Gu Tingye smiled and turned back toward her. “You think I’m still the fool I once was? The same methods I used to investigate you are the ones I used to investigate Minglan. My trust in her doesn’t rest on a word or two she said — it rests on watching how she conducts herself. In terms of cleverness, she is no less than you.”