That evening, after sharing dinner with Gu Tingye, Minglan dismissed the maids and servants and quickly recounted what Zhang Shi had told her during the day. Gu Tingye first expressed astonishment: “Shen Brother is strange about this — every time he mentions it to me, he guards against Madam Zhang as though against some adversary. And yet on a matter like this, which hasn’t even been fully decided, he still told her.”

Hearing this, Minglan was not surprised. In the course of their conversation that day, she had sensed quite distinctly that Zhang Shi did not hold her husband in much esteem. She murmured with a slight frown: “Why would the national uncle come up with this? By the custom of our dynasty, a prince consort who marries a princess cannot hold political office, can he?”

The implication being that she did not think much of this proposed match.

It was rare for husband and wife to have opposing views. Gu Tingye patiently explained: Shen Congxing had wished to seek a daughter from the family of the Duke of Supplementary State, but the old duke was only willing to offer a niece. He had set his eye on the fourth daughter of the Ruyang Marquis, but no matter how the negotiations went, they would only offer a concubine-born daughter. Then there was talk of Elder Yao’s youngest daughter being an excellent prospect — but the Elder’s wife refused outright and even fell ill from the stress over it. The Marquis of the Kingdom of Korea had been generous — opening with their legitimate eldest granddaughter without hesitation — but…

Minglan finished his sentence for him: “But the Han family currently has no capable men serving in the court, and the inner household is in disorder — the national uncle had no interest in them.” She covered her mouth with her sleeve and laughed softly. Who knew the national uncle had already run into this many walls? Only the legitimate daughter would do, only outstanding beauty would do, only from the main line of the earldom would do, only a family of impeccable reputation would do — with requirements like that, finding a match was indeed near impossible.

Seeing his wife’s knowing smile, Gu Tingye also felt a certain pity for his sworn brother’s predicament, and said with a sigh and a chuckle: “The field is only so large, and Shen Brother is proud and unwilling to use the imperial decree to pressure anyone. The Empress took pity on her brother and brought up the matter of the princess. Shen Brother thought it over carefully and found it not without merit. First — a princess holds the superior position; everyone must defer to her, and there is no real scope for anyone to cause trouble. Second — while a prince consort is shut out from official politics, who can guarantee that a hero’s son will be a hero? The boy’s abilities are still unknown, and if he is meant for a peaceful and comfortable life, perhaps securing his dignity and rank this way is not a bad outcome.”

A household with a princess as daughter-in-law — regardless of how the court shifted in the future, regardless of what abilities the son possessed, no one would ever dare to tread on their dignity, and a life of honor and security was guaranteed — that was Shen Congxing’s line of reasoning. At the end of it, Gu Tingye added one more thought: “In any case, one cannot yet tell what the boy’s gifts may be. Perhaps the Shen eldest son is simply destined for a life of ease and good fortune.”

Shen Congxing had once brought his eldest son to the training grounds for evaluation. After several rounds of testing, whether mounted or on foot, in individual combat or in formation strategy, the boy rated as mid-to-upper level — but bear in mind this was with the national uncle himself present, and a group of old comrades gathered to offer encouragement.

Minglan grasped the gist of what her husband was saying: it was rather like a student whose genuine abilities might reach only the national top ten, and who had now received an unconditional offer from the fourth-ranked institution. In the end, the parents decide it is safer to accept.

“…What you say is not wrong, and yet…” She still felt it was not quite right. Putting herself in the situation, even if Tuan Ge’er were mediocre in his abilities, she would want him to marry a virtuous and compatible wife — not to take a princess consort for the sake of wealth and security.

Gu Tingye stroked the soft, fine hair at his wife’s temple. “I know what you mean — if it were Tuan Ge’er, I would not want him to take a princess either.” His wife was thinking in the usual terms of a normal domestic life, but could the Shen household situation truly be called normal?

Minglan brightened immediately: “That is a relief — I was afraid the Marquis would think it all sounded very good and next go and request a princess for Tuan Ge’er as well.” She thought for a moment, then laughed: “I always feel that the national uncle is overcomplicating things. The Shen family is the Emperor’s close kin by marriage. When the Crown Prince one day ascends the throne, surely he would raise up a cousin — and even without marrying a princess, who would dare to slight the Shen family?”

Gu Tingye was silent. There was something he had never mentioned — but he had not expected Minglan to be sharp enough to perceive it on her own.

He considered for half a moment, then said: “The Empress is benevolent and has constantly reminded her children to remember Lady Zou’s sacrifice and to treat the Shen family’s cousins with great kindness. That much is well and good. But in the years right after the Emperor first ascended, the Shen household’s children were often brought into the palace to study and play alongside the princes. Somehow — who knows which loose tongue was responsible — a child, young as he was, actually dared to argue with the Crown Prince and declared things like ‘my mother died for the sake of the Crown Prince’s mother’…”

Minglan drew in a sharp breath and said in disbelief: “How could a child say such things?! Could the Zou household have been regularly putting these thoughts in his head?”

Gu Tingye sighed: “The children were very young at the time, and Shen Brother was unceasing in his apologies. From what I observed, the Emperor does not seem to have taken it to heart — Lady Zou did not die for his sake, after all. But as for how the two princes felt — that remains to be seen.”

They were born of the same blood and were close cousins, yet there seemed to be no warmth between them. Not long ago, when Zhang Shi’s difficult labor sent the Emperor venting his anger at the Empress, who in turn scolded the Crown Prince’s household — the Empress might not have minded, but how did the two princes feel? Shen Congxing had likely weighed this anxiety, which was why he was so insistent on finding his son a reliable and substantial family by marriage — so that even if the Emperor in the future showed little special favor, the boy would still have people in official circles to look out for him.

“Perhaps Shen Brother is overthinking it. But the first princess and the two princes are full siblings from the same mother — from what I understand, they share a particularly deep bond of brother and sister…”

He let it trail off without finishing. Minglan had understood everything. Husband and wife sat in silence for a moment. Gu Tingye roused himself and said with a lighter air: “Nothing has even one stroke finalized yet — the Emperor has not said a word. You must not breathe a syllable of this to anyone. Treat it as though you know nothing.”

Minglan agreed readily. Gu Tingye continued: “As for the matter of your fourth youngest brother Changdong — I think it sounds good. Old Uncle Shen’s family are all steady people; there has never been any trouble with them. Given that you are in a delicate state right now, why don’t I go speak with your father-in-law?”

Minglan immediately stopped him: “Please, Marquis — best leave it. If you go, Father will agree even if he is not entirely willing. Marriage alliances need both families to be genuinely at ease before they can be truly happy. I understand the situation — the Marquis need not worry about this.”

He pressed his palm to his wife’s gently rounded abdomen, then patted Tuan Ge’er’s head — the little fellow had taken over both his parents’ pillows, his small belly rising and falling softly as he breathed, already fast asleep in tiny snoring puffs. Gu Tingye watched him with eyes full of tender love, then sighed: “Every person has their destined match — I wonder what sort of wife this little one will end up with?”

“Find one who’s a little simpler.” Minglan was serene and unhurried.

Gu Tingye was startled: “Whatever for?”

Minglan said seriously: “When it comes to mothers and daughters-in-law living together, the art of it lies in one being more yielding while the other is more firm. I am a rather quick-witted sort myself — if we bring in another one equally sharp, won’t we be locked in a battle of wits every single day?”

After a long moment, Gu Tingye patted his wife’s head and said with great care: “You think of yourself as… quick-witted?”

Minglan raised an eyebrow: “You think I’m dim?”

“Certainly not, certainly not — Madam possesses a rare depth of wisdom beneath a surface of simplicity.” Gu Tingye’s smile was perfectly, radiantly guileless.

Minglan frowned and regarded him with deep suspicion. There was something about that man’s expression that felt distinctly like it contained an undisclosed layer of meaning, and she strongly suspected it was not well-intentioned.

Gu Tingye glanced again at Tuan Ge’er and said: “But if this little one takes after you and is also sharp-witted, and his wife is dim, won’t that be a disaster as well?”

Minglan gave her son’s small hand a gentle pinch, then sighed: “Marquis, set your mind at ease. This little one is sharp as a needle.”

Day by day he was growing older, and his nature was becoming clearer. She had come to suspect this chubby little figure was a deeply calculating sort — given an egg, he would eat the white part he liked, then with an expression of complete angelic innocence, stuff the yolk into cheerful Nanny Cui’s mouth. By the time Minglan came back, there would be a table full of empty eggshells and nothing to see at all.

Fortunately Nanny Cui was straightforward and after it happened several times she reported it all to Minglan without omitting a detail. Minglan did not say a second word before delivering a thorough smack to Tuan Ge’er’s plump little bottom and issuing a strict order against picky eating. The little chubby fellow had wailed on the spot and retreated to the corner of the bed, sulking and refusing to acknowledge Minglan — and that night he had gone to his father and sobbed and gesticulated his entire grievance, complete with dramatic re-enactment (which ultimately came to nothing). Him? Straightforward and simple? Ha.

……

The next day, Minglan composed a letter, relaying Zhang Shi’s words in full, without adding or removing a single detail. With Sheng Hong’s acuity, he would weigh the advantages and drawbacks himself — there was no need for further commentary.

Four days later, Liu Shi came to visit Minglan with a smiling face, bringing a generous assortment of mountain and sea delicacies — gifts, she said, sent by her brothers from outside the capital. After a few warm pleasantries, the two sisters-in-law came to the heart of the matter.

Liu Shi said: “Master says the family background of this match is quite good by any measure, and it is a compliment to Dong Ge’er that the Shen family would take notice of him. But he worries that the young lady, having been raised since childhood in the frontier regions, may have developed a rather strong-tempered nature.”

The unspoken meaning being: Changdong was the youngest, and born of the lowest-ranked birth mother. In future years, when family resources and assets were distributed, he would inevitably receive a thinner share. If the girl was also of military background — itself already on the rougher side — and on top of that had a fierce temperament, their future household would be in perpetual uproar, a second version of the He Dong River household.

Minglan turned it over in her mind and said: “Why don’t I invite the Shen family womenfolk for tea? At the same time, Elder Sister-in-law and Elder Sister could come along as well. We won’t speak of the match at all — just chat and laugh and treat it as a casual visit between relatives.”

Liu Shi had been thinking exactly the same thing and smiled in agreement: “If you are willing to do this, I am much relieved. The Master also feels the same way — we can hardly have that side look over Dong Ge’er while we still know nothing at all about whether she is round or square as a person. And with Elder Sister there to help make assessments, everything will be all the more careful and thorough.”

After Liu Shi had gone, Minglan privately smiled to herself, wondering what Sheng Hong had managed to look into these past few days — from his apparent satisfaction, whatever he’d found must have pleased him. Having thought thus, she sent a letter to Zhang Shi. The next day, Zhang Shi’s messenger came back to say that all arrangements were entirely at Minglan’s discretion — only the weather had been turning lately, and the old aunt had caught a chill, and the physician said she still needed some days to recover.

In any case, both families’ children were still young, and neither side was in any rush. Minglan wrote back a warm and reassuring letter saying there was absolutely no hurry and that the important thing was to rest and recover properly. On the Shen family’s side as well, they were genuinely concerned — if the old aunt was not fully recovered, and Minglan was with child, a visit might leave something amiss, and a good thing might be turned into a bad one.

Autumn deepened; the chill at night was especially sharp. On a day of clear sunshine, Nanny Cui chose a favorable morning to light the floor heating in all the rooms of Jiaxi Residence. Minglan and her son spent the warm, cozy day rolling about together on the heated kang.

Tuan Ge’er was growing more conscious and aware by the day. Under the repeated teaching of Nanny Cui and the others, he would often look curiously at his mother’s rounded belly, but no longer flung himself at it wanting to be picked up. He would only reach out his chubby little hand and give it a soft, gentle pat.

That day, after finishing the afternoon’s light snack, Minglan was thinking about taking a walk along the covered walkway when Gu Tingye came home laughing loudly, calling for people to come out and greet the guests. Minglan was mildly surprised, dressed herself properly, and got into a sedan chair to be carried to the outer reception hall to see — and it was none other than the Shi brothers and Che Niang, whom she had not seen in quite some time.

In truth, they had only met once, that one night on the river, exchanged just a few sentences. The reason Minglan remembered so clearly was that Shi Keng’s rugged, stubbly face had been so unforgettably distinctive. Che Niang, on the other hand, had filled out considerably; her skin was still a little rough, but the expression between her brows was one of contentment and ease, and she carried herself with the bearing of prosperity.

At the sight of Gu Tingye, Shi Keng immediately punched his younger brother, and the two of them dropped to their knees in formal obeisance. Che Niang beside them dipped in a deep bow. Gu Tingye stepped forward in one stride and hauled both brothers up by the arms, laughing: “We are our own people — what need for this kind of nonsense?”

Minglan also supported her belly and smiled: “Che Sister, please sit yourself down — I’ll take a lazy shortcut and not come to offer the formal greeting.” She then called for Xiaotao and Luzhi to bring tea and refreshments.

Che Niang’s temperament had not changed — straightforward as ever, thanking her without ceremony, giving her husband a playful shove, and everyone settled into seats. The couple were easy and unaffected, only Shi Jiang — the younger brother — still youthful and thin-skinned, clearly dazzled by the soft opulence of these surroundings, his face red the entire time, head bowed, not saying a word. When Luzhi came to pour his tea, no one quite knew where his eyes were looking, and he nearly did not catch the cup.

Though it had been so long since they’d met, Minglan was not unfamiliar with the Shi brothers and Che Niang — every year from the south, Gu Tingye’s former subordinates sent gifts for the New Year holidays, and the Shi household’s portion was always notably more generous than the others.

Having received such generosity for so long, and seeing that Gu Tingye was genuinely delighted, Minglan was doubly warm and attentive as a hostess. After a few pleasantries, she invited Che Niang onto a small palanquin and had her carried to the inner garden reception hall to talk and drink tea privately, leaving the men outside to speak among themselves.

As they exchanged accounts of the years gone by, Minglan learned that since Gu Tingye had thrown in his lot with the right patron, the Shi brothers had risen with the tide, and had by now gained control over the grain transport business along the Jianghuai region and the inland waterways all the way to the Longxi passes.

“Thanks entirely to the Gu Lord’s generosity, we now have a reliable meal to eat and no longer need to battle wind and rain for a living.” The old form of address came back naturally; hearing Minglan’s thanks for the gifts they’d sent, Che Niang hurried to say: “This is only right and proper! Without the Marquis’s protection, where would we be today?”

“The smooth flow of waterborne transport is a benefit to the state and the people — the Marquis also has interests beyond your household in mind. And however capable the Marquis is, he cannot personally oversee every detail. Whatever you have built today, a great deal of it came from your own hard work and your own willingness to risk everything.” Gu Tingye could not simply hand them an imperial decree and send them about waving it everywhere like a banner. Among those who dealt in salt and grain transport, every single one of them had backers — and in many situations, the Shi brothers had to rely on their own abilities.

Che Niang’s heart was moved, and she dabbed at her eyes: “With Madam saying this, we will follow the Gu Lord all our lives.”

She was decisive by nature and could not sustain sentiment for more than a few seconds. She quickly pressed the corner of her eye dry, then looked over Minglan with a grin: “Madam and the Marquis are truly a match made by Heaven. Back then…”

She laughed first before she could finish.

Minglan thought back to that night years ago — bitter cold over the river’s wide expanse, a roaring blaze engulfing the sky, flames surging up into the blackness, and she herself frozen half to death in the water, convinced she had somehow found a way back — only to be rescued by Che Niang and hauled aboard.

“…I never imagined… it would come to this.” At the time he had been called Second Uncle, and now he was her husband. They had all heard it with their own ears. Minglan felt suddenly embarrassed. “I still haven’t properly thanked Che Sister for saving my life.”

Che Niang could no longer hold it in and laughed outright, wiggling her eyebrows with mischief: “Thank me for what — the Marquis had people combing the whole river for you. It was our foolish man who made a firm declaration: that ‘niece’ of his is definitely his closest kin; let’s push hard and make sure the child doesn’t freeze in the water. Heh heh… and then when we pulled someone out, she turned out to be the most beautiful young woman imaginable… heh heh… I said right then — what kind of uncle looks at a niece like that?!”

Minglan’s face was burning. She stumbled: “We were some kind of distant relation by many removed connections — I just called him that loosely along with everyone else; actually we weren’t really…” Of all the people in the world who had ever heard her call Gu Tingye “Second Uncle,” it would have to be these two who were here now. Heaven’s net truly leaves no escape!

Che Niang was a sharp reader of people, and seeing she had teased enough and worried Minglan might truly be embarrassed and offended, she quickly put the topic aside and shifted to talking about children. Minglan immediately called for Tuan Ge’er to be brought out and placed on the soft daybed. Che Niang looked upon him with great delight, pressed a plump purse into his hand, praised him again and again, and finally sighed: “…Here I have only the one little girl. Truly, it is Madam who has the better fortune.”

Minglan said: “Sister is still young — you will surely have another big healthy son.”

Che Niang waved with easy generosity: “In the early years when life was hard, my body took damage. When I gave birth to our daughter, I nearly lost my life. The physician said I cannot conceive again.”

Seeing the look of pained sympathy on Minglan’s face, Che Niang laughed and said in turn: “I am actually one of the fortunate ones — her father does not mind. He says to wait until his brother takes a wife; once the brother starts producing children by the basketful, one of them can be designated to carry on our line of incense.”

Minglan laughed upon hearing this: “That truly is so — they are all family. Shi family eldest brother is a man of true sincerity; this is really the best possible outcome.” She had long heard Gu Tingye say that the Shi family parents had passed early and Shi Jiang had been raised by his elder brother — though they were brothers, the feeling between them was more like father and son.

Thinking of Che Niang’s youth of hardship and wandering, and how she had finally found her place of belonging, Minglan felt a deep, quiet moved, and said softly: “…Sister, take good care of yourself. There is much happiness still ahead. I remember that year on the boat, eldest Shi brother said he would make beautiful embroidered silk garments for you to wear.”

Che Niang touched her own sleeve — the smooth, dense weave, the vivid embroidery of a magpie on a branch, so lifelike — and smiled with a soft sigh: “That big-hearted foolish man, these days he wishes I would wear embroidered silk every single day. Speaking a word you mustn’t laugh at me for…” She lowered her voice a little. “Embroidered silk is beautiful, yes — but I actually find it not as comfortable as plain cotton.”

Thinking of how in her previous life people had prized natural cotton and specifically sought out coarse linen and rough cloth, Minglan caught the edges of her sleeves and laughed until she could not stop.

That evening, Minglan invited Shao Shi and Che Niang for dinner. Outside, a simple wine table was also set up for the men: the Shi brothers, Gu Tingye, and Old Gongsun, four of them drinking together.

The four drank and talked until deep into the night. When Gu Tingye finally returned to the room, he was quite surprised to find Minglan propped up against the headboard reading. He quickly removed his outer garments that had grown cold in the night air and warmed his hands thoroughly before drawing close: “Why are you still not asleep? You’ll strain yourself.”

Minglan sat up slowly with a languid ease, smiling softly: “I slept for a while earlier.”

The man stroked his wife’s soft hair, his voice gentle: “It is all my fault — I disturbed your sleep.”

Minglan did not respond to this. She looked up at him, her large bright eyes very still, and asked quietly: “…When do you leave?”

The whole of Gu Tingye went rigid for a moment, then he gave a rueful smile: “I was afraid you would worry and wanted to tell you later — I hadn’t expected you to figure it out yourself.”

It had not been difficult to deduce — her husband returning late every day, making up for missed meals by eating supper, too busy for his feet to touch the ground; the Emperor’s troop inspections growing ever more frequent; the national uncle virtually living at the military camp. Though she herself had not left the house due to her pregnancy, she could still feel the shift in atmosphere — from the streets of the capital down to the families of the various military officers.

“Why does the Emperor choose this time to send out troops? It is cold and about to be the New Year.” Minglan’s mouth turned down with dissatisfaction.

Gu Tingye let her lean against him, his chin resting on the crown of her head, and said quietly: “The plan is to gather forces at Longxi first and make ready. After the deep winter passes, when the grasslands are running low on food, that is when the Jie tribesmen will launch large-scale raids. We move a step ahead and hold position — striking in force at several passes simultaneously, and catching the Jie tribesmen as they come out unable to endure the hunger — to take the lot in one net.”

Minglan said nothing.

The imperial armies were like regular forces; the Jie tribesmen were like guerrilla fighters. These raiders and brigands always waited until the main army had withdrawn to fall upon the civilians of the border regions in a frenzy of plunder, and the imperial armies could not station themselves at the frontier indefinitely. To force a decisive engagement, the greatest challenge lay in catching the main strength of those guerrilla fighters.

“Did the Shi brothers come to the capital this time with a mission as well?” she asked. For them to be traveling north as winter approached — that was unusual.

Gu Tingye nodded: “While the inner river surfaces have not yet frozen solid, they were asked to come ahead and transport grain and provisions. The official vessels were not sufficient.”

Minglan pressed her hand to her belly — the expected date of delivery was the fifth month of next year. Her heart ached sharply, but she could not ask her husband to apply for leave from his patron. She could only say quietly: “…When will you come back?”

This time the response was a deep, long sigh. His voice was heavy with bitterness: “If things go well, the fourth month of next year. If not — I do not know… If I have not yet returned, you will have to give birth alone.”

Minglan burst out laughing: “Obvious, that. You can’t very well give birth in my place even if you were there!”

As those words left her mouth, her courage surged up tenfold. What was there to fear about giving birth without her husband beside her? She would simply consider herself a military wife whose husband had gone off to guard the frontier — the spirit of Yao Mama protested this comparison entirely.

She straightened her back, pressed one hand firmly against his chest, and said one word at a time: “Only three things. First — do not chase after merit and glory. Our household wants for nothing in terms of rank and advancement. Second — come back whole. Do not come home missing a hand or a foot. Third…” She said with great feeling: “Do not go dallying with flowers and stirring up trouble. Do not come home trailing some foreign princess or a fallen general’s younger sister — or I will not spare you.”

Gu Tingye folded her in his arms and held her against him, then laughed — a full, resounding laugh that shook the window lattices. In the depths of that night it was quite startling. The servants keeping night watch outside were jolted awake and exchanged bewildered glances with one another.