After the battle was won, that very afternoon Wang Shi brought Minglan to the Hall of Longevity to report on the outcome.

“What did you do with Yinxing after you took her back?” Grandmother Sheng had changed into a black silk embroidered jacket with eight roundel floral clusters in dark navy blue, and reclined against the kang by the window, asking in an even, unhurried tone.

Wang Shi furrowed her brow: “I originally thought she was diligent enough — that’s why I sent her to the sixth girl’s room in the first place. I didn’t expect she had no sense of shame. I’ve sent her out to the estate.”

To be demoted from a second-rank maid in the inner quarters to hard labor on an outer estate was no small punishment. Wang Shi paused, then smoothed her expression, turning to pat Minglan’s hand gently: “You’re really far too compliant. If the maids are misbehaving, you should come and tell me right away — why suffer in silence?”

Minglan flushed with what looked like gentle embarrassment: “The mistress was so forceful and decisive because she cares about me. But in truth, Yinxing was quite capable in her tasks — she was just young and didn’t know better. And Jiu’er has been very good. During all those days when my room was in chaos and I couldn’t exercise proper discipline, she and her few companions were the ones still honestly and steadily attending to their duties. I haven’t even thanked her properly.”

Wang Shi at last felt a measure of satisfaction restored, and smiled toward Nanny Liu Kun standing respectfully to one side. Nanny Liu Kun was quietly pleased — she knew her own daughter wasn’t quite as commendable as all that, but hearing her praised was always welcome. Seeing Minglan conduct herself with such grace and cleverness, the Grandmother Sheng seated at the top of the room let her eyes slide sideways at Minglan in a seemingly offhand manner. Minglan caught her grandmother’s signal and gave a slight, wry smile.

Grandmother Sheng collected herself and said: “This was well done of you — you’ve instructed Minglan, and put the fear into those who didn’t know their place. With you here, I feel at ease.” It was rare in eight years for Grandmother Sheng to praise anyone; Wang Shi was quietly gratified, and smiled: “Grandmother honors me too highly — your daughter-in-law dares not accept such praise.”

Grandmother Sheng smiled slightly: “Minglan has grown up by my side and has not gained half a measure of real capability — she only knows how to avoid conflict at any cost. Such a feeble and useless disposition — what can she possibly amount to?!” As she spoke, she gave Minglan a severe glare. Minglan straightened up timidly: “Your granddaughter will not behave this way again, and will properly manage the servants from now on — I won’t let Grandmother and the mistress worry.”

Wang Shi smiled: “That’s the right spirit. Minglan is young — it’s natural not to know how to keep people in line yet. She’ll learn quickly enough, Grandmother need not worry.” Grandmother Sheng’s expression softened with a measure of pleasure; she offered Wang Shi a few more words of praise, then turned a stern face on Minglan: “To manage so large a household properly, you have to be a bit more demanding of yourself! If your household falls into disorder again, I’ll deal with you along with the rest of them!”

Minglan acknowledged this with repeated bows and earnest agreement. Wang Shi smiled warmly and put in a few good words on Minglan’s behalf, only then did Grandmother Sheng’s expression fully ease.

Nanny Liu Kun stood quietly to one side, thinking: The old woman is formidable indeed — and the sixth young miss is no simple matter either. She lifted her eyes briefly to take in the self-satisfied Wang Shi, then gripped her handkerchief and decided to hold her tongue.

After Wang Shi’s show of authority that day, the household of little maids fell as silent as if their tongues had all been suddenly pulled out. The next day Nanny Fang sent over a ruler as well, and the girls doubled down on diligence and efficiency. The few who had been in the habit of joking and romping about with Minglan came and went with fretful, put-upon expressions; Minglan made no move to comfort them. Instead she distributed the finished Studio of Dusk and Green Code of Workplace Conduct, implemented it through a hierarchy of senior maids conveying it to the junior ones, set aside a small portion of each day for the junior maids to discuss the content in small groups, and scheduled a trial-period review and summary meeting to be presided over by Cuiwei in half a month’s time — everyone supervising and encouraging each other, working together to build a harmonious and well-ordered Studio of Dusk and Green.

Also on that day — after taking the scolding from Grandmother Sheng — Nanny Fang came to relay word that Minglan was to take her meals in the Studio of Dusk and Green, and should spend the rest of her time properly “setting her household in order,” except for the morning greeting. Minglan immediately assumed an expression of great suffering. After enduring more than half a month like this, she waited for a clear and sunny morning, tucked a small bundle under her arm, and quietly slipped her way into the Hall of Longevity. She applied herself to coaxing and flattering Grandmother Sheng with everything she had — kneading her shoulders, pounding her back, pouring her tea and handing her water — bustling about in an absolute frenzy of devoted attentiveness. Grandmother Sheng gradually lost the ability to hold her stern expression; with a little granddaughter squirming and wheedling in her arms, she could not very well push her out — only kept her face cold.

Minglan, seeing the situation improving, immediately produced her offering. With her delicately pretty face wearing its most fawning smile, she held up the item respectfully: “…Heh heh, Grandmother, look — this is the warm hat your granddaughter made for you. Fine cotton lining, brushed fleece exterior in the Zhaojun style — try it on, do…”

Grandmother Sheng looked: the hat was compact and lightweight, a vivid ginger-yellow with a finger’s-width border of deep black, adorned with a full satin embroidery of auspicious longevity patterns in understated, elegant relief. The old woman’s heart was pleased at first glance. Before she could even say a word, Nanny Fang was already exclaiming with delight, full of praise: “Truly only the sixth young miss would think of it — Grandmother was just saying she was tired of wearing that heavy brushed fleece hat now that the snow is melting, and here comes this delicate little one. Look at the stitching, so fine and close — the embroidery on these flowers, even the works that come out of Tianyi Pavilion aren’t this lovely. Come, come, Grandmother, let’s try it…”

She took the hat and fitted it carefully over Grandmother Sheng’s forehead. The two sides curved gently to follow the shape of her head, falling neatly toward the back, and with the pearl button clasp at the nape clicking into place, it fit perfectly. Grandmother Sheng reached up to touch it: soft, warm fleece, just right — wonderfully comfortable and well-fitted. She cast a glance at Minglan, still hovering with an anxious, hopeful expression, hugging her own arm and beaming up at her like a foolish little thing trying its best to please — and the old woman’s heart went suddenly, helplessly soft. Nanny Fang was still talking: “…This proves Grandmother didn’t love the sixth young miss in vain — just look at how well it fits. The young miss has grown up, her handiwork finer than ever.”

Minglan hurried to be modest, her face the picture of devoted flattery: “Not at all, not at all — mostly it’s because Grandmother has such a wonderfully shaped head.”

Grandmother Sheng could not hold on any longer and burst out laughing despite herself. She pulled little Minglan into her arms with a firm squeeze, scolding even as she did: “You useless creature!” Minglan immediately attached herself like sticky candy, throwing her arms around her grandmother’s neck in a fervent bout of coaxing affection.

Nanny Fang exhaled with relief. This past half-month the old woman’s face had been decidedly difficult to look at, and she herself had been greatly stifled by it. She watched the two of them on the kang — Grandmother Sheng asking quietly whether Minglan had been eating and sleeping properly these past weeks — and Nanny Fang quietly slipped away to instruct the kitchen to add several of Minglan’s favorite dishes. She thought of how, with just herself for company these recent days, Grandmother Sheng had barely eaten a thing.

And so things at the Hall of Longevity returned to their steady, familiar rhythm.

Minglan also went to find Elder Brother Changbai. He was now in the thick of preparing for the Metropolitan Examination, with only some time free before dinner. Minglan timed her visit carefully and went early to wait for him. On entering the courtyard, she was led inside by Changbai’s senior maid Yanghao and seated, then served tea and pastries. The maids coming in and out made not the slightest sound. Minglan reflected that since entering this courtyard, she had not seen a single good-looking girl — not to mention the beauty of Ruomei or Ke’er, even girls of Bisi and Luzhi’s level were scarcely in evidence. Minglan was once again filled with deep admiration for this elder brother of hers.

She remembered a selection years ago when Changbai had been given first pick. He chose neither based on talent nor on appearance, selecting only a few plain-looking, steady-natured girls. Wang Shi was very put out — she felt that a grown son’s quarters ought to have some suitable young women placed in them, and insisted on choosing some presentable ones. Changbai had replied that girls of outstanding looks and talent tended to have high opinions of themselves and an eye for advancement, and were bound to cause trouble — he absolutely did not want any. Wang Shi felt the retort lodged in her throat, and some things she simply could not say aloud — Son, those young women are placed there to cause exactly that kind of ‘trouble’ — what does a boy your age want with so much quiet? She had even, with some subtlety and indirection, explained the significance of a secondary chamber-maid.

Changbai thought it over and agreed to his mother’s suggestion. But then he turned around and had Nanny Liu Kun go and make an announcement to all the maids. When Wang Shi heard what was said, she reportedly turned a color resembling green bean soup.

The two successive mistresses of the Sheng household had taken much the same approach to secondary chamber-maids. Grandmother Sheng, entering the household as a daughter of the noble Hou family, had immediately disposed of all her husband’s existing chamber-maids, and no one dared say a word against her. Then Wang Shi, following suit, had sent off all of Sheng Hong’s chamber-maids to be matched and married, with Grandmother Sheng tacitly approving. And so Changbai now had Nanny Liu Kun deliver this message: it was the Sheng family’s custom — whether a chamber-maid was elevated to concubine status or not would depend entirely on the future young mistress of the house.

Wang Shi nearly coughed up blood. Obviously no one becomes a chamber-maid hoping to grow old in that role — if not to bear children and be elevated, who would want it?! Looking at her son’s furrowed, glaring expression — so terribly like his father’s — Wang Shi couldn’t even find words to argue back. She could only clench her teeth and swallow the bitterness.

The girls were quite dispirited. But after serving Changbai for some time, they came to understand that this young master, young though he was, had a steady and upright character and would not be moved from his word. He had a particular aversion to those who were unruly in conduct or coquettish in manner. Minglan strongly suspected this was a childhood scar left upon him by Lin Yiniang.

And so, the ambitions of those slender-waisted, peach-cheeked maids to climb into the young master’s bed were greatly diminished. Changbai’s small courtyard became a haven of harmony and peace — master and servants all consistently silent and quiet, with only the crowing of roosters and the barking of dogs to be heard. On a few occasions when Danju had gone over to deliver things on Minglan’s behalf, she had entered to find the entire place hushed and still, so tightly wound she didn’t dare breathe.

— The above intelligence supplied by Xiaotao; the interior monologue filled in by Minglan.

There was an even more remarkable detail: Changbai had given the maids in his courtyard the following names, respectively — Yanghao, Langhao, Zihao, Jihao, Zhuhao, and Jianhao. (All forms of calligraphy brush hair: sheep, wolf, purple-tip, chicken, pig, and combined bristle.) Among them, the prettiest girl Wang Shi had sent — he named her: Shuxu.

Mouse whisker.

When Xiaotao learned this, she turned to Minglan and said with great sincerity: “Young miss, thank you.”

While these thoughts were still wandering through her mind, Changbai came in from his lessons and spotted Minglan sitting there at once. His first words were: “Sixth Sister, you’ve come? Have you finished copying out the Calligraphy Manual of Lady Wei, Listening to the Tide that I gave you last time?”

Minglan’s smiling face froze: “Ah… not quite. I still have a bit more to go.”

Changbai sat down across from her and, without even picking up his teacup, launched immediately into a rapid series of reprimands: “Excellence comes through diligence, ruin through play” — just because she had moved away from the Hall of Longevity was no excuse to neglect herself. Even for a girl, one’s handwriting still needed to be properly cultivated, otherwise she would only invite ridicule when she had occasion to write…

Then there was something about how reading was for the cultivation of moral understanding, and one who did not understand proper conduct was little better than a brute. On and on he went without pause or end.

Minglan was greatly oppressed. She couldn’t quite understand it either — this elder brother of hers, who was usually so sparing with words and barely said a handful of sentences in a day, never seemed to lecture Molan or Rulan like this. Yet the moment he turned to teaching her, he became inexhaustible. The last time, the Yinxing incident had earned her a full half-hour of reprimand, with no right of reply — the moment she tried to speak back she only invited more — so she could only hang her head and listen obediently. Xiaotao stood to one side, disloyal enough to be quietly laughing.

After a long time, Changbai finally reached a pause, drank a few sips of tea to moisten his throat, and asked: “What did Sixth Sister come for?”

Minglan thought silently: You’ve only just remembered to ask that? She puffed out her cheeks and had Xiaotao pass forward the item she had brought — a newly made pair of cotton shoes: “Here, finally done. I added half an inch of thickness to the sole — even if it rains in the capital, you won’t have to worry.”

Yanghao received them and passed them to Changbai. He examined them: the dark-colored uppers were thick and soft, embroidered lightly with a few stalks of sturdy pine and upright cypress — simple, dignified, and honest. Changbai accepted them with no change in expression: “Thank you for the trouble, Sixth Sister.”

Minglan puffed out her cheeks: “I’ve become Elder Brother’s personal maidservant at this rate. Shoes are the most taxing thing to make — and adding those soft sandals from last time, I’ve nearly worn myself to death. Look at my hands — they’ve been pricked full of holes!” She extended her small hands toward Changbai. He looked at them briefly, his face impassive, not a word to say — but he reached out and ruffled the soft fringe of hair over her forehead, then said: “Write down whatever you’d like. I’ll bring it back from the capital for you.”

Only then did Minglan’s face break into a smile: “Thank you, Elder Brother.”

Yanghao turned the shoes over and over in admiration: “The young miss has such fine skill — our young master always says he feels most comfortable in shoes the young miss has made. I’ve tried to make them too, taking the old shoes as my model, but I just can’t equal what you make.”

Minglan tilted her head with great self-satisfaction: “This is a skill that can only be felt in the heart and cannot be put into words — study the shoe well and figure it out yourself.”

In truth it wasn’t particularly mysterious. Everyone has their own way of walking — leaning forward, leaning back, toes turned out, toes turned in — and the wear patterns of an old shoe reveal the shape of the foot and where the weight falls. The shoe upper shows the foot’s shape and where it presses hardest; the sole shows the pressure points of the ball of the foot and the heel. From this one can selectively use softer or firmer fabrics, and calibrate the width and snugness accordingly. Minglan had applied the same meticulous attention she once used to compare legal clauses in court documents, and had worked it all out with some effort.

Yanghao smiled: “I understand. I’ll think it through carefully.” She took the shoes, turned, and withdrew.

Minglan estimated it was nearly time to go to the Hall of Longevity for dinner and rose to take her leave. Changbai looked at her, considered for a moment, and still said: “Sixth Sister — a few days ago, when Qi Heng came back to Dengzhou for lessons, I heard he sent someone to the Studio of Dusk and Green with gifts. But you turned them away?”

About ten days ago, Qi Heng had returned to Dengzhou with his parents from the capital and, on the very first day back at the Sheng household school, had sent a page to the Studio of Dusk and Green to deliver gifts. Minglan had undergone a long internal struggle and firmly refused the sugar-coated cannonball. Qi Heng, unable to charge down and drag Minglan out by the ear, was left stifling his frustration, and had gone to Changbai — with whom he was on good terms — to put in a word.

Minglan cleared her throat and said with gravity: “The Book of Rites states that boys and girls of seven years and older should not sit together. We sisters are all gradually growing up — it is proper to maintain our distance and avoid impropriety. We should no longer receive gifts from unrelated gentlemen at will.”

Looking at his doll-like little sister delivering this dignified pronouncement, Changbai’s lips moved slightly: “…That pair of the large Wuxi clay folk dolls came up from the south as a tribute offering — they’re not really worth anything.”

Minglan shook her head firmly: “My two elder sisters don’t have one. There’s no reason for me alone to.”

She then delivered a further exposition on the principle of proper distance between men and women. Changbai, remembering Qi Heng’s complaints and entreaties, added: “That pair of folk dolls looks quite like Sixth Sister.” He paused, then added: “They even have dimples at the corners of their mouths.”

Minglan kept her small face perfectly composed and continued shaking her head: “Brother, think of this from my position too — when Fourth Sister and Fifth Sister find out, what would I say? Brother studies together with Young Master Qi — please speak with him properly and explain the reasoning.”

Changbai’s gaze shifted and he looked at Minglan in silence for a moment. He saw her — brows softly arched, lips bright, clear bright eyes — and something like regret moved through his expression. He considered quietly for a while, then slowly nodded: “Yuanruo has grown up without brothers or sisters — seeing a little sister who is likeable, it makes sense he would be fond of her. But at this point propriety must indeed be observed. I’ll go and speak with him.”

Minglan smiled her thanks, then took Xiaotao and went to the Hall of Longevity for dinner. Changbai watched her small figure recede, pulling out a slender and graceful silhouette, and a thought rose in him unbidden: If only Minglan had been born of the same mother as me.