The division of a household was, in the life of an ancient family, the second most momentous event, surpassed only by the occasion of a marriage.

According to official doctrine, since Shang Yang had promulgated the Law of Household Separation, explicitly decreeing that any household with two or more adult sons that failed to separate would have its taxes doubled, the practice had taken hold deep in the popular consciousness over time — it promoted the small-farmer economy and eased family conflicts alike.

According to clan elders and senior family members, a great tree has deep roots and spreading branches; branches divide to nourish the roots, and the whole clan advances together, united in purpose.

As for fathers and mothers who could no longer manage their sons and grandchildren, they would sigh and say: people’s hearts have scattered — this team is impossible to lead.

When it came to Gu Tingye’s turn, his reasoning was simpler still: his stepmother had tried to burn his wife alive. To prevent the situation from deteriorating further, to stop the internal fractures from widening, to preserve what little family feeling remained — it was better to substitute distance for goodwill.

The morning of his first audience after returning, Gu Tingye appeared in clean court robes, though his cheeks, temples, and hands still bore traces of ash and smoke. After reporting on the situation in the Huai region, the Emperor — as the highest authority — naturally asked a question or two; Gu Tingye, with careful skill, described something of the scene of the fire, and then, with a tone of faint gloom and contained indignation, remarked that his household would probably be dividing soon.

The internal affairs of the Ningyuan Marquis Mansion were something the Emperor had heard about even during his time as a prince. He had assumed Gu Tingye would drive out his stepmother the moment he inherited the title, but instead the man had been unexpectedly decent about it — letting more than half a year pass, even securing a good post for his younger brother. Who could have known the stepmother remained insatiable, and there was the great fire at the Gu Mansion, which half the capital had witnessed — the Emperor had his ears everywhere and could hardly have missed it.

His loyal subject had run a difficult errand to a distant region, completing the mission splendidly, only to come home nearly losing both wife and child — this was a point of justice the Emperor could not let pass without acknowledgment. He spoke words of comfort at once: “It has long reached Our ears that among the common people, the division of household branches is standard practice, and even in such cases, stepmothers generally follow their own children. Your inclination in this matter is entirely reasonable.” After a round of expressions of gratitude, Gu Tingye took the opportunity to reaffirm his loyalty for the nth time. In truth the Emperor had a particular fondness for this sort of subject — capable and devoted, beset from time to time by some personal vexation, and occasionally in need of a small, not-too-significant imperial favor. Ah — a subject could at least divide his household, but when would he ever be able to divide that second mother of his out of the palace?

Having communicated his intentions to those above him, the rest became simple. After a couple of days’ preparation, one afternoon after morning court, he went first as usual to visit his wife and plant a kiss on his son — only for the well-fed little one to spit a mouthful of milk straight onto his collar. Gu Tingye had planned to go to the negotiations still in court robes, but the little creature had thrown a wrench in his plans. The small, pleasantly plump infant was not yet aware of anything, and only lay there with his large, innocent, round eyes fixed on his father, head tilted to one side.

Gu Tingye laughed and called the little rascal a little stinker, then carefully supported the infant’s head and handed him back into Minglan’s arms, saying quietly: “I’m going over there now. I’ll be back soon.” Minglan understood perfectly what he was about. She took the bundle and bent to kiss the child, then looked up and said lightly, “There’s no point getting upset with people like that. Just see it through steadily, Marquis.” Gu Tingye touched her face gently, gave a low sound of assent, changed clothes, and went out.

The sun was sinking in the west. In Xuanzhi Garden all was still; the plants and trees made no sound; the heat pressed down without mercy. Since the fire in Cheng Garden that day, even the most obtuse of servants had dimly sensed that something was amiss — yet for several consecutive days Gu Tingye had not shown the slightest sign of temper, and the routines of Cheng Garden had continued as usual. It had left everyone with the uneasy feeling of a storm gathering behind a wind-still facade. Now, at last, this day had come. At the sight of Marquis Gu leading a column of attendants and guards — all in dark-belted grey, faces stern — walking straight toward the garden, every servant in the compound quietly retreated into their rooms.

The chief culprit herself, far from panic, sat with perfect composure in the main hall, on the seat of honor, turning the pages of a Buddhist scripture. When she heard Gu Tingye announced, she barely moved her lips. “The Marquis is a very busy man these days. Condescending to visit — to what do I owe the honor?”

Gu Tingye entered alone. He scanned the room — it was bare and cold, barely any furnishings — and saw only Nanny Xiang standing in attendance. He smiled faintly. “There is a matter, one that concerns Nanny Xiang closely — I’ve come to discuss it with you.”

Madam appeared to have been prepared for this. Her composure was intact: “What matter?”

“A few days ago there was a fire in the household. Someone says she saw Nanny Xiang leading people and carrying firewood.” There was no need for pretense at this point. Gu Tingye watched with cold eyes, but Nanny Xiang continued to stand with head lowered, expression unchanged.

Madam gave two sharp, light laughs. “A bond-servant setting a fire — a grave matter indeed. If the accusation is confirmed, the consequences are severe. Might I ask which sharp-eyed servant it is who claims to have seen this?”

Gu Tingye’s lips curved. “Man Niang.”

Madam immediately produced two piercing cold laughs and turned to Nanny Xiang. “Do you confess?”

Nanny Xiang’s face was expressionless. “There is absolutely no such thing. If the Marquis does not trust me, whether it is before a magistrate or before the senior members of the clan — I am prepared to confront Miss Man face to face.”

“Ha ha ha…” Gu Tingye seemed to have encountered something thoroughly comical. He propped one hand on the armrest, raised the other to his mouth, and gave way to laughter — his body shaking, his back arching, the sound filling the room.

The old woman before him had planned with the most meticulous care, and the arson had been arranged with the utmost rigor. As darkness fell that evening, all the servants had their attention fixed on the mistress about to give birth, and discipline had inevitably slackened somewhat — especially as Cheng Garden was large and sparsely inhabited, with many courtyards lying empty. First, a fire was started in one secluded corner, drawing a portion of the servants away to deal with it. Before a moment had passed, small fires broke out at several other points simultaneously, and the servants — though well-managed under Minglan’s hand — had not yet been in service long enough, and with the crisis arising so suddenly, could not help but fall into some confusion.

At this point, the danger advanced toward Jiaxi Residence. In the middle of the frantic comings and goings, quite a few figures dressed in Gu household servants’ livery were pushing toward the main rooms — but Second Master Tu was alert, held a firm perimeter around the main building with a team of guards, and no matter what chaos reigned around them, held their ground without a single step given — which was the only reason no one managed to startle Minglan within.

Of the two figures seized on the spot whose behavior had appeared suspicious, and of those uncovered in later investigations — every single one insisted they had been going to Cheng Garden to help put out the fire. In fact, they had been carrying water buckets at the time. In the dark and confusion, people running in every direction, no one had noticed them. Gu Tingye cast a cold eye over them: these people were all retainers Madam had brought with her upon her marriage, with their household registrations and families firmly in her hands.

They all knew perfectly well — if they refused to speak and held firm, there would be no evidence, and there was at least a chance of survival. If they opened their mouths, never mind their own families facing ruin — they themselves might not escape punishment either.

And even if Gu Tingye managed to extract some kind of confession through interrogation, Madam could simply point to those beaten and battered servants and claim it was all extracted under torture. If so much as one devoted partisan recanted, the accusation against Gu Tingye of “persecuting his stepmother, fabricating evidence” would have substance. And if Madam then went wailing and thrashing about with a rope in hand, trying to hang herself — that would be even better entertainment.

And yet Man Niang had seen Nanny Xiang with her own eyes. Why?

Gu Tingye gradually let the laughter subside. He fixed his gaze on the well-nourished, middle-aged woman before him. How much of his hardship over the past half-lifetime had been brought about by her hand — and what manner of foul schemes this woman concealed behind her composed surface.

Nanny Xiang was old. For a matter of arson, there was no need to personally lead anyone — she had deliberately let Man Niang see her.

“You have said it.” Gu Tingye stood at the center of the room, his manner ice-cold and perfectly courteous. “In the capital these days the weather is dry; a fire can start from nothing. Family members need not be suspicious of one another. That vile woman failed in her scheming and has come to stir up trouble — I’ve already sent her away.”

This scheming woman had intended to expose Man Niang — had deliberately drawn him into a confrontation where he would take people to conduct a face-to-face challenge. If he had acted in a fit of rage and caused injury or death, she would immediately have gone to his enemies outside; but if he fell for neither trap…

Madam was unsurprised. She smiled, like a thin layer of ice across a lake in winter — the winter sun warm above, the water beneath the ice still bitterly cold. “I knew you would be soft-hearted. Even now, still the same. You protect Man Niang — aren’t you afraid your wife’s heart will grow cold?”

“No need for your concern.” Gu Tingye smiled back more cordially than she did, though a faint inexplicable bitterness arose in him without warning. “I’ve already told Minglan. She understands.” He composed himself slightly, and turned. “I’ve come today for a different matter.”

He suddenly raised his voice: “Someone, bring him in.”

Before Madam and Nanny Xiang had time to react, two robust guards had entered, shoving a person in before them — and then threw him heavily to the floor. The person let out a groan of pain. Nanny Xiang’s voice broke: “Biao’er — why is it you?!”

The man raised his head, his face a mass of bruises, and called out in misery to Nanny Xiang: “Mother, save me!”

Nanny Xiang was instantly beside herself. She looked helplessly at Madam, then in one motion bit down hard, steeled her heart, and looked back at Gu Tingye with venomous eyes, saying hoarsely, “This young wretch has disgraced the Marquis Mansion. Whatever punishment the Marquis sees fit, the Marquis should impose.”

“Good!” Gu Tingye smiled. “Two lives — that ought to earn at least a full board of beatings. Come, begin.”

Two guards were already prepared; they answered in unison, and immediately two more sturdy manservants entered from outside, each gripping a rod as thick as the mouth of a bowl. The two guards pinned Xiang Biao firmly to the ground, and the two manservants began to strike in steady, methodical strokes. The blows were not spared — each one struck true, landing on the body with a dull, dense, heavy sound. Xiang Biao immediately began howling and crying to the heavens.

Nanny Xiang watched her son being punished and instantly lost all composure, collapsing where she stood. Madam’s face was iron-grey; she said nothing. This kind of cane punishment — an ordinary person could not last through ten strokes; sixty strokes meant permanent disability; a full board could easily take a life. She knew Gu Tingye’s character perfectly — pleading softly would be useless, threats would be useless, and would likely invite a whole speech of rigorous argument from him.

At first, Xiang Biao could still cry out; as the strokes continued to fall, his voice grew fainter and fainter. Nanny Xiang’s legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the ground, calling out in a broken voice: “Marquis! The fire — it was all this old servant’s own doing, with no connection whatsoever to Madam! Please take this old servant’s life instead!”

Gu Tingye sat in the master’s chair, his expression cool and indifferent. “Nanny Xiang is confused. I have already said — the weather is dry; these fires can start by themselves.” The height of summer in the capital was the most humid time of the year — what dryness of weather? Yet he said it regardless.

Nanny Xiang could bear no more. She threw herself onto her son’s body and wailed: “Then kill me instead! I will pay with my life in his place!”

The two manservants had been trained with discipline; one stopped, gripped Nanny Xiang and pinned her to one side, while the other continued to strike. Nanny Xiang could not break free, and could only sob until she could no longer catch her breath.

Watching Xiang Biao breathe out more than he breathed in, watching Nanny Xiang half-fallen into a faint, Gu Tingye suddenly let a smile cross his face. He turned his head at his leisure and said with easy calm: “In my years of traveling in every direction, I have seen a great many people. And I have noticed something curious about the nature of the human heart. It matters not how vicious a person may be — no matter how ruthless they can be to others — the moment they are faced with their own flesh and blood, they become no different from anyone else.”

Madam sat as motionless as a carved figure, not uttering a single word, her face a shade of grey barely resembling a living person’s color.

“Not that this is surprising, of course — even animals love and protect their young. How much more so for human beings.” Gu Tingye continued with cold mockery.

Madam squeezed the words out from between her teeth: “What do you want?”

Gu Tingye let his smile fall away, and moved only his lips: “The division of the household.”

Madam turned her head sharply; her gaze fixed on him like a viper’s. Gu Tingye stood unmoved as a mountain range, meeting her look with an equally cold one. Not waiting for her to object, he continued: “The fire the other day was fierce, but mercifully all people are safe and sound. Not only is Minglan safely delivered of a child, even my younger brother and nephews are perfectly well — truly Heaven-protected harmony!”

Those last four words were drawn out with deliberate slowness, each one falling with the clang of iron and the smell of blood.

Madam’s breathing quickened. Her eyes were fixed, unmoving, on the upright, powerful figure of the young man before her. Gu Tingye looked at the unconscious Nanny Xiang and smiled gently with a soft sigh. “What a loyal servant. A lesser person, for the sake of their own child, would have thrown all care to the wind long ago, I imagine.”

The sound of the wooden rod landing on flesh could still be heard — heavy, deadened, full of despair. A spreading pool of blood lay beneath Xiang Biao’s body; he had gone silent. Madam’s heart turned cold. For the first time in her life, she felt she had run out of moves.

As the household affairs were many and complex, Minglan sensibly gave up her ritual bathing. During the confinement month, however, relatives from both sides came gradually to pay their respects. Having heard that Minglan’s delivery had taken place on the very night of the great fire in the Gu Mansion, visitors’ expressions and words could not quite conceal their suspicion.

Several of her sisters-in-law were well-informed, and suspected a great deal, yet dared not ask too directly — they stepped around the subject speaking only auspicious words. As for Hualan, she was characteristically blunt: “Your mother-in-law is even more vicious than mine!” Minglan immediately corrected her: strictly speaking, her only mother-in-law was the spirit tablet on the altar. Grandmother Sheng also came in person to see her, stroking her hair with a loving hand, and said only briefly: “Hardship gives way to fortune. This little boy is destined for great blessings.”

Within a few days, word came through the household that Nanny Xiang’s son had not survived. From that day on, Nanny Xiang lay ill in bed, unable to recover. Madam herself also fell gravely ill. Before Tuan Ge’er had even reached his full month, the division of the household was raised as a formal matter — and Madam actually acquiesced. The clan elders were called upon, together with senior members of the fourth and fifth branches, and the division proceedings began.

Minglan was not present. She only learned the final outcome afterward: the hereditary merit lands were not to be divided, the ancestral properties were not to be divided, the Marquis Mansion itself was not to be divided. All remaining properties were to be split into two and a half portions — daughters counting as half a son — with one half-portion going to Xian Jie’er, and the remaining two portions divided equally between the two brothers.

This proposal was one Madam had initially refused to accept. According to Gu family precedent, regardless of the father’s death, a daughter upon marriage received only a dowry — nothing more. Yet Gu Tingyu had, after all, been established as the heir to the Marquis title, and the orphaned daughter he left behind was hardly to be treated as an ordinary case. Gu Tingye very cheerfully threw back every word Madam had used to elevate the prestige of Gu Tingyu’s funeral rites, and brought in Tingcan’s marriage for additional comparison.

Madam had no choice but to accept. Madam Shao wept with joy right then and there. Her own family was of modest means, and she had only Da Qin Shi’s dowry to rely on, though much of that had dwindled over the years. Now, at last, Xian Jie’er’s future was secure.

Madam then raised objections regarding the household inventory, claiming Gu Tingye had hidden a great deal away. But no matter how thoroughly they checked, apart from the Emperor’s personally bestowed farmlands, Gu Tingye had truly no other assets of any kind to show — not a single shop, not a single share in a business, not a single piece of land.

When brothers divide their household, one could hardly divide up the Emperor’s personal gifts as well. But just how much private wealth Gu Tingye had accumulated, no one knew except Minglan. Madam could only accept defeat with frustration.

Upon hearing this, Minglan could not resist getting out of bed and going to the inner room to give a pat to the double-fish lock wrapped in refined steel chain, behind which lay a hidden compartment built into the wall. She pressed her palms together with heartfelt thanks to Heaven for having given her a husband with such a fondness for gradual accumulation.

Of course Gu Tingye had amassed a considerable private fortune: properties in the south recently turned over; the generous rewards for military merit — war was, in fact, very lucrative; the customary perquisites from confiscations; the Emperor’s direct gifts. Gold bars of identical weight had been stacked, in a whim of playful humor, into a small, elegant South American pyramid. Bank notes of enormous denominations were bound in thick, tidy rolls. And everywhere at the edges, title deeds and account books — to say nothing of the impressive collection of imperial-gift treasures and antiques in the storerooms of Cheng Garden. Minglan had intended to make some investments of her own, but what with the busy aftermath of the wedding and the constant wariness and vigilance required within and without, she had simply not found the time. Heaven be praised!

In the course of this division of the household, Xian Jie’er’s conduct deserved especial mention. Having behaved impeccably for more than a decade and acquired a reputation of integrity that others trusted, her account of the fire in Cheng Garden — carefully relayed and vividly elaborated — had become a secret that was no longer secret to anyone. As a result, everyone who looked at Madam either averted their gaze in unease or regarded her with open contempt and censure; and even the genuinely charitable among them could not help but signal with their eyes that “you really did make this rather obvious.” This spared Gu Tingye the effort of going out to spread word himself.

Of course, Madam’s own propaganda was not to be underestimated. She made the vigorous argument that her own son’s courtyard had also been caught in the fire, and she was therefore entirely innocent. Unfortunately, human beings think in fixed grooves — and after more than two years of Gu Tingye’s sustained efforts, people had gradually come to believe that this particular stepmother was not exactly lily-white. Reasoning from this premise, the fire in Tingwei’s courtyard was easily interpreted as a smokescreen Madam had deliberately created while setting the real fire, to conceal her guilt.

Besides, if you used nothing more than your toes to think it through — a Marquis approaching thirty with no heir to his name, however much he despised his stepmother, would hardly choose the very day his wife was in labor to risk losing his legitimate child in order to frame and slander her.

On the day of the household division, the fifth elder master had nothing whatsoever to say and simply sat there maintaining a face of absolute neutrality. The fourth elder master, who remembered exactly how Madam had treated him when he had last set up his own household, threw himself into undermining her cause with great energy. And so, before Tuan Ge’er’s full-month celebration had arrived, the division of the household was complete. They needed only to eat through the full-month banquet, after which Madam would take her son and daughter-in-law to their separate residence.

For the full-month banquet, Minglan deliberately went two nights without sleep to make her well-nourished complexion look drawn and haggard, then added to it an expression of half-absent, dazed bewilderment — achieving altogether the look of a fragile woman still not recovered from shock. Guests arriving for the banquet, upon seeing her, pitied her all the more, speaking words of gentle comfort and urging her to take care of herself. Minglan did her best to produce a smile and, in a faint, weakened voice, said she was doing well and there was no need to worry.

The effect was fully as intended.

The only slight imperfection was the little round ball of a baby, white and plump and round as a dumpling, with a cry loud and vigorous enough to fill the room. When people found him irresistibly charming and gave him an extra pat or two, the tiny creature actually took offense, and fixed them with a great pair of indignant eyes — radiating spirit, vigor, and excellent health in every direction. He was in absolutely no way a child who had suffered shock in the womb. Upon witnessing this, Madam was consumed with fury, but was forced to maintain a smile. Within her heart, she raged with poisonous resentment.

Watching the crowds clustered around, offering congratulations and flattery, Minglan basking in her prosperity and glory — Molan clenched her teeth and held it in, getting only two sour remarks out before she closed her mouth again. Rulan looked at the baby, her eyes unable to conceal their envy, and Wang Shi barely glanced over before turning to console Rulan. With the maternal family not performing at its best, Hualan took on the role of eldest sister and helped greet the guests, moving through the room with grace and charm — and drew no small amount of compliments for it.

Gu Tingye was genuinely happy, lifting his son out to show him off, and in front of a crowd of close colleagues and good friends, shamelessly praised the child from his fingers to his nostrils — even a tiny yawn the little one produced was declared extraordinarily stylish and distinctive, unlike anything anyone had ever seen.

This finally became too much for Lord Shen Congxing, who decided to cause disruption. He got young General Zheng Xiao to lead the crowd in calling for drinks, and amid the toasting and clamor the matrons finally managed to reclaim Tuan Ge’er and carry him back.

Grandmother Sheng was especially delighted. She held the little bundle and kissed him again and again, and Tuan Ge’er seemed to take a particular liking to her — he could fall asleep with a contented snuffle right there in her arms. Gazing at the sleeping little face, her old eyes grew moist. It seemed as though every gap in her whole life had, at last, been filled.

Minglan nestled in her grandmother’s arms, and truly felt that she had quite enough to be grateful for. If all those she cared about could live in happiness — that was enough.

On the day Madam moved out, Zhu Shi came to Minglan’s rooms and sat in silence drinking two cups of tea. She said nothing in particular, then rose to leave. At the door she suddenly turned back, a wistful look on her face, and said in a low voice, “Women — in truth, so many things are simply not theirs to choose.”

Minglan understood what Zhu Shi meant. The things Madam had done were not unknown to her. But a wife defers to her husband — unable to agree and unable to bring herself to expose her own mother-in-law, she had only been able to retreat into weak-willed self-interest and pretend she neither heard nor saw.

Gu Tingwei had a post to hold, a second elder brother who — though disinclined to help him advance — would at least not harm him, and the standing of the Ningyuan Marquis Mansion to rely upon. Zhu Shi herself had a generous dowry, and Madam had private funds of her own. Setting up a separate household and living well — not needing to covet what was not theirs — might not be untroubled happiness, but it was entirely possible. It depended only on what was in their hearts.

Minglan rose, smiling, and walked Zhu Shi to the door.

Zhu Shi stood in the courtyard, bowed with graceful dignity, and the two sisters-in-law parted.