One look at this young man’s entire air and bearing, and the Sheng siblings knew immediately that he came from no ordinary background. They all rose to their feet at once and returned his courtesy. Master Zhuang waited for them to finish their exchange of greetings before beginning his introduction. It turned out that this strikingly beautiful young man was the only son of the current Salt Distribution Commissioner. His father was the second son of Duke Qi Guo’s household; his mother was the only daughter of the Marquis of Xiangyang — Her Grace Pingning Junzhu, imperially bestowed by His Majesty. He came from a family of illustrious honors on all sides.

His name was Qi Heng, courtesy name Yuan Ruo. He was one year younger than Changbai. Several years ago he had come to the capital to study under Master Zhuang’s tutelage; it was only when he accompanied his father on an official posting outside the capital that he had parted from Master Zhuang. Recently, Administrator Qi had come to Dengzhou to inspect the salt affairs by imperial decree — charged with rectifying and reorganizing them — and would likely be staying for some time. Naturally his wife and children had come along, and Qi Heng, upon learning that Sheng Hong’s resident tutor was none other than Master Zhuang, had asked his father to send over a calling card for a visit.

Minglan noticed that Master Zhuang was treating Qi Heng with particular warmth, which she found somewhat puzzling. Over these days of instruction, the things Master Zhuang said in the course of conversation had suggested considerable disdain for the noble princes and marquises — he had even once directly called the sons of the ducal and marquis households a bunch of “stupid parasites.” She was still turning this over in her mind when Changfeng had already said it aloud: “I suspect this is one of Master Zhuang’s most accomplished students — we should address him as elder brother.” So saying, he smiled and gave a bow.

Master Zhuang pointed at Qi Heng and laughed: “This little one here — with such an illustrious family background, instead of purchasing an official title and coasting along, he insisted on grinding away at his studies on his own. In the dead of winter and the blazing summer, he came faithfully to my broken-down thatched study, until Her Grace the Junzhu was beside herself.”

Qi Heng’s snow-white complexion turned faintly pink, and he said with a bashful expression: “My father has always felt it a regret that he never sat the examinations himself, and so he hopes that his descendants will pursue the proper path of officialdom. It is fortunate that Administrator Sheng has invited the teacher, and so I have come thick-skinned to impose.”

He glanced at Changbai, who was standing to one side in quiet composure, and then said: “This must be Administrator Sheng’s eldest son — elder brother Changbai. I hear that elder brother will shortly be going to sit the provincial examinations. I wonder if you have a courtesy name?”

Changbai replied: “My courtesy name is Ze Cheng — given by Master Zhuang.”

Then the young men exchanged ages and bowed to one another in order. Qi Heng addressed the two Sheng brothers: “Elder brother Ze Cheng. And younger brother Changfeng.”

Master Zhuang had been waiting impatiently through all of this and finally lost his patience: “You young people are more pedantic than this old man. If you must go on like this, take it outside — I have not finished my lesson.” — Minglan supplied the silent addendum: which is precisely why you never managed to become an official.

While the introductions were being made, Minglan sent the already thoroughly bewildered small maids back outside. Danju followed along properly as well. Once outside, Xiaotao arrived just in time; Minglan accepted the coin purse she had brought, counted out fifty coins for each of the three maids, and they each thanked her with great haste. Qi Heng glanced at her with an idle air.

Master Zhuang invited Qi Heng to sit and attend the rest of the lesson. The young manservants outside had already brought in a desk and chair. The original seating arrangement had Changbai to the right and Changfeng to the left in the front row, with each of their younger sisters seated behind them. Minglan sat at the front of the right-side section against the wall, with little Changdong behind her. Now that a new student had appeared out of nowhere, Master Zhuang had him sit to the right of Changbai — taking the right seat in the first row — which meant that his back was, naturally and unavoidably, positioned directly in front of Minglan.

Minglan was internally grumbling about having her line of sight blocked, when, quite unexpectedly, the said Qi Heng sat down and turned back to give her a smile: “How do you do, Sixth younger sister.”

Minglan was startled for a moment — how does this person already know…? — and then instinctively looked over at Molan and Rulan. Sure enough, both of them were looking in this direction. She immediately straightened her posture with practiced dignity and said not a single word.

The room fell into silence. Master Zhuang cleared his throat and said: “Just now you all heard what Sixth young miss said to the maids. What do you all make of it? You may as well speak up.”

Changbai suppressed a smile: “Sixth younger sister has already said everything that needed to be said.”

Changfeng moved his lips, glanced at Qi Heng, seemed to have some hesitation, and so refrained from further arguing against legitimate succession. Molan and Rulan both assumed their most proper young-lady demeanors, composedly restrained to the extreme.

Master Zhuang looked at how everyone was behaving today and knew it would be difficult to draw out anything further. He sighed and then said to Minglan: “Since none of them will speak, Sixth young miss — you will have to speak for us.”

Minglan rose respectfully and said: “Well…there are merits to each side, but…” She gave an embarrassed smile. “The legitimate eldest is easier to identify, less trouble, and less likely to cause quarreling — that is all.”

Qi Heng resisted the urge to turn around. He could tell intuitively that the voice behind him was young and clear, and very pleasant to the ear.

Master Zhuang gave no evaluation, signaled Minglan to sit, and then asked Qi Heng: “Yuan Ruo — you were in the back listening for quite some time as well. What do you say?”

Qi Heng also rose: “I have only just arrived — how would I dare to speak rashly? However…” He paused, then smiled. “Sixth younger sister’s final question…was very well asked.”

The mood in the room relaxed at once. Everyone thought of it again and felt the urge to laugh. Master Zhuang pointed at him and shook his head repeatedly.

After a while, Master Zhuang addressed the young men in the front row with a grave expression: “What I say today, I say only once. Once outside this door, I will deny every word of it. A great man ought to be loyal to his sovereign and love his country. No matter what turbulent winds blow outside, they will in time pass. At the critical junctures, one must hold firm. Do not carelessly entangle yourself in the fray, and do not engage in pointless disputes with your colleagues. Being a steadfast and pure-hearted official — that is the right path.”

The students all nodded and received the teaching. Minglan thought to herself: this crafty old man — what he really means is, never mind who becomes the legitimate heir or the capable heir. Simply be loyal to whoever eventually sits on the throne. He cannot say this outright, but he cannot leave it unsaid either, so he spoke in this roundabout way — thereby discharging his duty, and leaving each individual to cultivate their own understanding.

Since Qi Heng was to pay his respects to Sheng Lao, all the siblings gathered together in Shou’an Hall for the noon meal. Sheng Lao looked Qi Heng over again and again and liked him very much in her heart. Then she glanced at the several granddaughters blooming like flowers beside him, and her heart inevitably stirred. She thought of Minglan, and could not help but sigh. Wang Shi stood to one side, introducing everyone with particular high spirits.

When Sheng Hong saw the calling card that Administrator Qi had sent over, he was overjoyed to have a superior and a person of great influence seek him out on his own initiative. He immediately invited Qi Heng to study together at the Sheng family school. Administrator Qi had himself been worried that his son was falling behind in his studies, and so both parties found the arrangement very agreeable and hit it off splendidly. Before the conversation was through, they had traced a twisting and winding connection in their family histories and, astonishingly, discovered that the Qi Guo Duke household and the Wang family maternal clan had some distant relation several turns removed.

Wang Shi said with a smile: “When we looked into it carefully, it turns out we are family — distant relatives, but from now on we must keep close.” And so colleagues became kinsmen. The whole room grew all the more warmly animated in their talk, and even the Sheng girls no longer needed to keep their distance.

After listening to a long and detailed explanation from Wang Shi, Minglan finally understood why Qi Heng had greeted her as Sixth younger sister right away. But she had barely registered this thought when, over on the other side, Rulan had already warmly called out “Yuan Ruo elder brother!” Molan followed immediately with a soft, sweet call of her own. Minglan could not help but give a small shudder — and then called out as well. Qi Heng replied politely in turn: “Fourth young miss. Fifth young miss. Sixth younger sister.”

He glanced down at Minglan: she had her hair in a pair of small bun coils, and stood blankly to one side, her chubby little hand pressed over her small mouth as she yawned one yawn after another, her tender cheeks round and soft as little packets of white rice cake. Qi Heng curved the corners of his mouth, and felt an inexplicable itch in his hands.

Minglan had never felt a day as torturous as today. Before dawn, she had been up teaching little Changdong his characters. Then Master Zhuang had run over his lesson without letting them go. At lunch, everyone’s high spirits had prolonged the meal so long that there was no end to it. And in the afternoon, that tigress of a Master’s wife was already bearing down on them — yet Minglan had not a single moment of her midday nap to show for it. Her two elder sisters, however, clearly found today glorious.

During the afternoon guqin lesson, Molan’s playing was as smooth and flowing as water, full of feeling and intent. The Master’s wife listened with closed eyes in genuine appreciation. Rulan also set aside her usual impatience, and bent her head to play carefully with a smile at the corners of her lips. Minglan sensed something was off in the atmosphere and looked up to study them — their cheeks were flushed, their eyes and brows relaxed and bright, as though they were on the verge of smiling out loud with happiness.

Minglan let out a sigh and went back to plucking her own strings. Springtime…

Coming to this era, she had discovered that the distance from modern life was far greater than she had ever imagined. For an ancient young woman, the single most important task in life was to marry well. After that — supporting one’s husband and raising one’s children, until the end of life. Everything before that — learning, needlework, accounting, household management, and even reading and writing — was preparation toward that one ultimate goal.

Molan’s poetry and essays were not composed so that she might one day distinguish herself in literary circles — they were worn as the name of “talented lady” to increase her value on the marriage market, or to better please her future husband after marriage. Rulan’s study of account books was not so she could become a bookkeeper someday — it was so she could manage her future husband’s household assets and finances more effectively. Minglan’s needlework was equally so — at least in the eyes of others.

From a very young age, an ancient girl would have marriage quietly but persistently instilled into her by her elders. When she was still Yao Yiyi, what she heard from her mother’s lips was: “Your midterm grades have slipped — be careful or you won’t even get into a decent high school!” In this ancient life, what she heard from Nanny Fang and Nanny Cui was: “It took four whole days to embroider one little mandarin duck — how will you ever make close-wear for your husband and children in the future? We can only hope the husband’s family won’t find fault.”

Of course, girls in these situations would always make a show of shy modesty on cue — but in their hearts they accepted the reality of marriage and childbearing very early on. The clever ones had already begun calculating their own prospects from quite a young age. And so, looking at the spring that had bloomed on Molan and Rulan’s faces, Minglan was not the least bit surprised. For an ancient woman, a husband was not merely a love match — he was her lifelong meal ticket, her guarantee of security and standing.

This kind of attitude from them seemed natural to Minglan, and even wholesome. If they were to pretend a sort of guileless innocence and claim they were only treating Qi Heng as an elder brother — that would be the real affectation. Encountering an accomplished, handsome young man from a distinguished family and having certain thoughts arise — that was the most natural thing in the world.

Minglan felt a sudden pang of melancholy. Life in Shou’an Hall was safe and warm — yet she could not stay there forever. Age ten was a threshold. Her sisters were already on the other side of the gate, while she was still within.

That evening before bed, Minglan was reading a qin score when Changbai’s young manservant Han Niu came scurrying over, both hands carefully cradling a broad, shallow-bottomed basin of blue-and-white porcelain about one chi wide. He set it down on the table with painstaking care and finally exhaled, wiping the large beads of sweat from his forehead: “Sixth young miss, these two little fish are from the young master — he says to keep them for your amusement. He says that since you spend so much time reading and doing needlework, looking at something like this is good for the eyes.”

Minglan leaned in to look. The shallow porcelain basin contained two koi with red and white markings — their scales sometimes a brilliant crimson, sometimes snow-white, their tails trailing gracefully. The bottom of the basin was laid with a few small pebbles and some tender sprigs of water grass. The water shimmered and glittered, and the fish moved with lively elegance. The rich red, fresh green, and the blue-and-white porcelain together were a genuinely pleasing sight. Minglan was delighted, and lifted her head to smile at Han Niu: “This is truly beautiful. Go back and tell the young master that younger sister likes it very much, and passes along her thanks. …Danju, please give little Niu elder brother two qian as a reward — he held his breath and kept his heart in his throat all the way here carrying this basin. That was no small effort.”

Han Niu was only eleven or twelve years old. Hearing there was a reward, his face lit up with joy. He accepted the coin string, thanked Minglan again and again, and Danju threw in a handful of dried fruit from the table and tucked it into his arms before having Luzhi see him out.

Xiaotao still had all the ways of a child. The moment Han Niu was gone, she crowded over to look at the koi, clicking her tongue in admiration. Danju glanced back and found the mistress and the maid both staring at the koi with dopey expressions, stubby chubby fingers pointing this way and that, and could not help laughing: “The young master is truly thoughtful. I have heard that he keeps a large vat of water plants in his own room, with several pairs of koi in it. These two were most likely scooped straight out of his own vat.”

Xiaotao looked up with a silly grin: “Danju elder sister, that is exactly what I heard too when I was in that part of the house. The young master treasures those koi dearly — normally no one is ever allowed to so much as touch them, especially Fifth young miss. And yet this time he sent our young miss two of them — truly remarkable.”

Minglan said nothing. She poked her short, chubby fingers into the water to tease the two fat-bellied koi, thinking to herself: could this be a reward for taking his side today? If so — not bad. It shows that elder brother Changbai understands the way of things. Having a principled and clear-headed elder to look up to is genuinely something to be glad about.

One must say — Wang Shi’s rate of accuracy with her paddle was actually quite respectable. When she swung, at least two out of the batch were good hits.