As for the specifics of local custom in Youyang, Minglan was not certain of all of them — but it was apparently not the custom for those lacking the relevant anatomy to be present at the wedding-night revelries. Add to this the sheer volume of information Minglan had processed that day, and so she and Lan washed up and went to bed early.

The new second sister-in-law, Kang Shi, had a very fashionable-sounding given name — Yun’er. The next morning, when she served tea to the two elders and her parents-in-law, Minglan observed her carefully. She was indeed gentle and graceful, delicate and charming. Minglan then looked at Changwu standing nearby grinning like a great round gourd, and concluded that last night had been a harmonious occasion.

Sheng Wei and Li Shi were both very fond of the new daughter-in-law. They gave her a thick red envelope plus a pair of jade phoenix-and-dragon bracelets of excellent color. Kang Yun’er received them with trembling head ornaments and flushed cheeks. Li Shi, mindful of her elder daughter-in-law’s feelings, refrained from saying anything about producing heirs, and only said in a kind and pleasant tone a few words about “sisterly harmony between daughters-in-law.”

After the morning greeting, Lan whispered to Minglan that Kang Yun’er’s dowry was actually smaller than what Shulan had brought when she married the licentiate Sun. Minglan glanced over at the artless Lan — so the Kang family had truly fallen on harder times. No wonder Yun’er, born of a legitimate wife of a distinguished family on both her mother’s and father’s side, had married into a family of somewhat lesser standing. But as the saying went, what appeared a loss might prove a blessing — looking at how the elder daughter-in-law Fang Shi had gone years without bearing a child and yet was still protected and treated well by her parents-in-law and her husband, it was clear that Yun’er was also in a fortunate position.

At this thought Minglan could not help but sigh. Heavens above — why did it seem that the only few decent men of ancient times she had encountered were all within the prohibited degrees of kinship? She had no idea what sort of husband awaited her in the future. If she ended up matched to someone like Brother-in-law Sun, she would have to choose between wilting under his shadow or sinking into quiet misery — woe upon woe!

From the way things played out over the following days, Sheng Lao had made an excellent match. Kang Yun’er was modest and courteous, respectful to her elder sister-in-law, and gentle with the younger ones, though she was on the reserved side — prone to blushing at the smallest thing. But paired with the broad and easy-mannered Changwu, that was rather a good balance.

Yun’er was especially reverential toward Sheng Lao. Once, while serving at a meal, she noticed that there was a vegetable dish the elder particularly enjoyed — a plain stir-fry of sesame greens — and kept adding more and more to her bowl. Sheng Yun, who had joined them for dinner, teased: “They say once the bride passes the wedding threshold, the matchmaker gets tossed over the wall — but this niece-in-law of mine hasn’t forgotten her matchmaker one bit! Truly a good child — she doesn’t forget her roots!” Yun’er was so mortified that even the tips of her ears turned red, and she looked as though she wished she could burrow into the ground and disappear. The Great Madam gave Sheng Yun two firm swats, but couldn’t help laughing herself.

In the side room where they were eating, Lan deeply resented not having been present in the main hall to join in — she had a great fondness for teasing this shy new sister-in-law. Minglan always stepped in to defend Yun’er and stop Lan from tormenting her too much, though with Changwu also chasing after his sister to lecture her, Lan rarely managed to gain the upper hand. The siblings often ended up in a happy tumble of play and noise.

Li Shi was gladdened to see the household living in harmony. But when she thought of her eldest daughter Shulan, a shadow crossed her heart, and she could only silently recite her prayers, hoping that all her children might find happiness and peace.

On the seventh day after the wedding, the entire Sheng household went together to the ancestral hall to pay their respects. After the men had completed the ritual offerings and withdrawn, the women were permitted to enter and pay their obeisance. The main purpose of the ceremony was to introduce Yun’er to the Sheng ancestral tablets and the living members of the clan. Once her name was entered in the family registry, Yun’er would formally be counted as a member of the Sheng family.

The Sheng family had risen to prominence relatively recently, so the traceable ancestors were few. Minglan followed along in a daze, bowing and burning incense several times over, until her head swam. It was then that she vaguely recalled — after Yun’er had been entered into the genealogy just now, the Great Madam and her grandmother had exchanged a few words with the senior female relatives of the clan, and then the clan head Sheng Wei had added a few more strokes to the registry. What exactly had been written?

On the carriage ride home, Minglan could not hold back and asked Sheng Lao. She was quite unprepared for the response — Sheng Lao delivered it lightly, as though it were nothing of consequence: “You have been recorded under your mother’s name. From now on, you and Rulan are the same.”

Minglan’s eyes went wide. After a moment she stammered: “How — how could this be…? Does… does Mother know?” Sheng Lao looked at Minglan, her expression unchanged: “I notified her.”

Minglan sat in a fog, her head full of jumbled thoughts, quietly riding along in the carriage. Sheng Lao was efficient and decisive — not a whisper of this beforehand, and now it was mentioned as an afterthought. Minglan had a hundred things she wanted to say and could not find where to begin. In the end, she simply wrapped both arms around her grandmother’s and leaned her head against her, saying softly: “Thank you, Grandmother. You’ve gone to so much trouble.”

Sheng Lao half-closed her eyes and let out a single breath: “…Don’t be absurd.”

The stone-blue velveted top of the carriage swayed gently overhead. Minglan looked up at it in quiet thought. She knew that only children recorded under the name of the first wife were considered legitimate. In truth, this was nothing more than a favorable title — every friend and relative knew perfectly well that she had been born of a concubine. But at least when the time came for her marriage, she would have a more presentable face to show.

Minglan suddenly laughed to herself. After this, the next time Rulan tried to call her a “concubine’s get,” she would no longer be able to… Minglan gave a start, and tugging gently at her grandmother’s sleeve, asked quietly: “And the fourth sister? Has she been entered under the name as well?”

Sheng Lao did not open her eyes. She replied in a mild and even tone: “You are not one to compete with Rulan. As for Molan… that depends on her own fortune.”

Minglan turned this over, not entirely certain she understood. It seemed that even being recorded under Wang Shi’s name did not truly mean she stood on equal footing with Rulan — she was still one step below. If she and Rulan were ever to come into conflict over something important…

Minglan smiled ruefully. So it was a counterfeit version after all. Still — better than nothing, she supposed.

Another half-month passed. Changwu was due to return to the capital to take up his post as a military commander in the Zhongwei Guard. Li Shi was reluctant to let her son go, yet knew that the position he had obtained was one that countless others had fought tooth and nail for, and it had only come about through Sheng Hong’s extensive efforts behind the scenes. Kang Yun’er, for her part, was anxious and ill at ease, fearing her mother-in-law would speak the word and have her stay behind. With the capital’s dazzling temptations, how could Changwu be expected to hold firm on his own? What if, when husband and wife met again, there were suddenly several new little ones in between? She had seen her own mother’s grief.

At the thought, a wave of cold washed over Yun’er’s heart. She had no choice but to be ever more respectful and meticulous in attending to her parents-in-law, rising early and retiring late, deferential in all things — which made her even better regarded by the entire Sheng household.

One day, when calling on Sheng Lao for the morning greeting, Li Shi raised the matter and sighed: “The boy must go and pursue his career — I, as his mother, cannot stand in his way. It’s just that from such a young age he has always been away from his parents. When he returns to the capital, I’ll have to ask you, Second Aunt, to look after him a little.”

Yun’er stood in attendance nearby. A fine sweat gathered on her brow. Li Shi glanced back at her, then said slowly: “Changwu’s wife has only just come through the door — I am not entirely at ease yet. I had thought to keep her here a while longer, to guide her through things. Yun’er, what do you say?”

Yun’er felt a chill settle over her heart, her eyes growing hot. But she kept her smile steady: “To be guided by Mother is something I could only wish for.”

Minglan had been dozing contentedly against her grandmother’s side, but now she was somewhat more awake. Unable to stop herself, she put in a word: “Great Aunt, please let Second Sister-in-law go up to the capital with Second Brother.” Li Shi pretended to wonder: “And why would that be?”

Minglan said with some embarrassment: “Well… I’ll miss my new sister-in-law.” It was a weak reason — no one believed it. Minglan added in a very small voice: “And… actually, Second Brother will miss her more.”

Yun’er’s face went crimson. She knew it was nothing more than a child speaking carelessly, yet she was genuinely grateful, and stole a glance at Minglan in quiet thanks.

A few days later, the family physician determined that the elder daughter-in-law Fang Shi was a few months with child. Sheng Wei and Li Shi were overjoyed, saying repeatedly that it was the good fortune Yun’er had brought with her. Fang Shi believed it too, and was greatly grateful to her sister-in-law. The two daughters-in-law clasped hands and talked for a long while together.

In truth, Li Shi was not a harsh mother-in-law. She had simply worried that Yun’er, being raised in an official family, might grow spoiled and willful without her parents-in-law to keep her in check, and might look down on her son once she had Wang Shi’s support in the capital. When she thought it over now, she supposed that was an exaggeration — and if things really didn’t work out, she could always summon her daughter-in-law back. Yun’er was so relieved she could have wept, yet she dared not let it show too much. She listened obediently to Li Shi’s instructions about how to manage social relationships and look after her husband in the capital, and a few days later set off for the capital with Changwu.

The Sheng household gradually quieted. One day, as the autumn wind began to settle and the sun came out warm in the morning, Sheng Lao said to Minglan after breakfast: “Minglan dear, come keep your grandmother company on an outing into the city.”

Minglan was standing at the table trimming pieces of fabric. Danju stood nearby with a measuring ruler, Cuiwei was leafing through pattern books, and Xiaotao was tending to the tea brazier. Lan had been summoned by her great-aunt to look through the account books in these past few days, leaving Minglan free to plan a little embroidered belly wrap for the expected baby of the elder daughter-in-law Fang Shi. When she heard her grandmother’s suggestion, she looked up without quite thinking: “Into the city? But aren’t we already in the city?”

— Was Youyang not the county seat? Could it really be a rural area?

Sheng Lao smiled: “Silly child — once you see Jinling, you’ll understand what it means to be in a city. We’re going back to take a look at our own house — it’s been so many years since I returned. There are quite a few old things that aren’t being used anymore; we need to organize them, or they’ll all rot away and be eaten through by worms.”

In those earlier years, when Sheng Lao’s late husband had divided the family inheritance, he had set aside one house for each of his sons. Since the second son had made the transition from merchant to scholar, and before the wedding to the young lady from the marquis’s household, the old master had placed the second son’s house in Jinling.

Sheng Lao and Minglan climbed into the carriage together, taking with them half the maids and servants. Sheng Wei, concerned that they might be shorthanded, sent along another seven or eight sturdy household attendants. Carriage and horses prepared, the procession set off slowly toward Jinling. As they passed through the Jinling city gates, Minglan immediately sensed the lively and vibrant bustle outside — so different from Youyang. But for a well-bred young lady to lift the carriage curtain and peer out was not considered proper. Minglan could only sit in the carriage like a martial arts master, ears attuned to the world outside, reading the street from the vendors’ calls to piece together what lay beyond.

Sheng Lao watched Minglan’s barely contained eagerness — like a fidgeting little squirrel desperately trying not to twitch — and was secretly amused. She said nothing, deliberately letting Minglan endure her restraint.

When they arrived at the Sheng residence, Danju helped Minglan out of the carriage, and then Minglan turned to help her grandmother down. A group of more than ten elderly servants was already waiting at the gate. A senior steward who looked quite old stepped forward, knelt, and announced in a carrying voice: “Your humble servants are here to welcome the sixth young mistress home to the residence!” Behind him, a full row of servants, wives, and staff all knelt together in a single sweep, their greeting resounding in unison.

Sheng Lao nodded, appearing satisfied. She waved her hand for them all to rise, then, with Minglan supporting her arm, led the procession inside the residence. The old steward was visibly overcome with emotion. He couldn’t stop talking in starts and sputters: “It’s been so many years since we’ve seen the mistress — we old servants are so happy inside. Without the master and mistress here, this house has no proper feel to it. Should the mistress perhaps take a tour of the residence in a sedan chair to see it all? Oh my — and this must be the sixth young miss! We’ve never had the honor before — truly like a pearl of jade on a flower tree, such elegant bearing and distinction!”

Sheng Lao smiled in reply: “This house has been without a resident, so the quiet is to be expected. No need to tour every corner — I trust you, and your grandson serving in Changbai’s household is proving himself quite useful.”

The old steward, hearing that his grandson was valued by the family’s young master, broke into a wide smile. He led the group cheerfully to the main hall and had all the household staff line up to kowtow before Sheng Lao one by one. Minglan received what felt like several carriage-loads of flattering remarks, until her ears rang. After the bustle had at last settled, peace returned.

Sheng Lao led Minglan into the inner chambers, passing through several smaller rooms and winding around behind the storehouses, until they arrived at a remote and quiet back room. Nanny Fang was already waiting there. Sheng Lao saw her and said in an even tone: “Everything has been brought out?”

Nanny Fang respectfully confirmed that it had, then led Cuiwei, Danju, and the other maids out of the room, leaving only the two of them — grandmother and granddaughter — inside.

Minglan was puzzled by all this secrecy. Seeing the solemn and mysterious manner her grandmother had assumed, she sensed that something important was about to be said. She turned — and found Sheng Lao already seated in an old wooden chair in the center of the room. She pointed at the seven or eight large trunks arranged neatly on the floor and said to Minglan: “All of these are what remained of your grandmother’s dowry.” She then let the corner of her mouth lift slightly, with a faint air of mockery, and added half a sentence more: “Only these are left.”

Minglan stared at the trunks in bewilderment. Sheng Lao gestured for her to open them. Minglan went over and lifted the lids one by one — and a wave of musty air hit her at once. She coughed heavily. Good heavens, these hadn’t been opened for at least ten years! She wasn’t even sure if they might carry harmful bacteria or mold spores. Forcing her eyes open, she peered into the dim darkness. The insides were thick with dust, some even draped with cobwebs. She could faintly make out what appeared to be porcelain, bronzeware, and antique objects. The last two smaller trunks were wrapped even more securely — the heavy rosewood cases seemed to conceal yet another layer of iron boxes within.

Sheng Lao’s eyes took on a distant, deep quality, as though many memories were surfacing. She said quietly: “There were once several dozen trunks of fine silk — every variety of brocade, satin, and fur. I burned them all myself. Some others I converted to silver — one needs silver to manage dealings and smooth one’s way. You can’t expect your father to move through official circles with empty hands. What came from the marquis’s household as dowry — only these are what remain. I’ll give them to you.”

Minglan had barely stopped coughing when she nearly choked again. She hurried to reply: “Grandmother’s things should naturally go to the sons of the family. Ha ha — just giving me a little silver would be quite enough.” She was not joking. If she walked out of here carrying these, Wang Shi would have her neck — and even Elder Brother Changbai might look at her askance.

Sheng Lao appeared not to have heard, and continued on her own course: “For you girls, my standing rule is a thousand taels of silver each on top of what your father provides for the dowry. For the boys — the eldest son’s wedding I contributed a thousand and five hundred taels; the two younger ones I’ll give eight hundred each. I’ve lived in the Sheng household all my life. Whatever small measure of affection your grandfather had for me, I consider it settled. But these trunks have nothing to do with the Sheng family.”

Her tone was measured and detached, as though she were simply settling accounts. Minglan felt a pang of sadness. Yan Ran’s entire dowry combined, including what Elder Yao had added out of pity for her distant marriage, had come to no more than a thousand and five hundred taels — which also reflected, from another angle, how upright Elder Yao was and how tightfisted the Yan family’s father was.

Minglan went over and took hold of her grandmother’s sleeve, urging gently: “Grandmother, please give it to Elder Brother instead. He is the eldest legitimate grandson of this family.”

Sheng Lao took a long moment before coming back to herself. She looked at Minglan with an expression so strange it sent a chill through her, then said slowly: “These trunks, while not priceless, are more than enough to keep you comfortable for a lifetime. You truly don’t want them?”

Minglan sighed and decided to speak plainly: “If I’m being honest — nice things are something everyone likes. But the hat one wears must fit one’s head. What is rightfully mine, is mine; what isn’t, chasing after it does no good. These treasures, if brought to my eldest sister’s in-laws, would be considered luxuries already. How could I possibly accept them? And besides…” Minglan found herself unable to continue under her grandmother’s amused gaze, and trailed off awkwardly: “In short — I’m still young, Granddaughter. If I’m fortunate, I’ll have a good life ahead of me regardless. These bronze antiques — I’ll pass.”

In this world, money was not everything. Without the corresponding ability and the shelter of family standing, wealthy merchants were easily subject to extortion and intimidation by officials or powerful figures. Sheng Wei had grown increasingly prosperous without major setbacks largely because he had a cousin who was an official. The seven county magistrates of Youyang, through successive appointments, had all gotten along well with the Sheng family. The Li family’s obsession with having their sons enter scholarly service despite having more than enough money already stemmed from exactly the same logic. To offend Wang Shi and Changbai over these few trunks of goods would be a terrible trade.

Sheng Lao gave Minglan an amused look: “Who said all seven or eight trunks were going to you?”

Minglan went still. Right — she had jumped ahead of herself. She gave an embarrassed little laugh. Sheng Lao pointed to the last two trunks: “Those are what is for you — some jade ornaments and jewelry I used in my time. ‘The hat must fit the head’ — your grandmother understands that, and would not have you break propriety.” Then her voice softened: “You see clearly and are not greedy for silver — your grandmother is pleased. These pieces are well given to you. As for the other trunks, they are not for your elder brother either. I have other plans for them in time. Today you are here to broaden your experience — these are pieces from a former dynasty, you understand.”

Minglan flattered her way under her grandmother’s arm, and in a small voice said: “What do I know about such things? Won’t Grandmother tell me about them?”

The elder shot her a look of mock exasperation, then helplessly drew her little granddaughter to the trunks and went through each item one by one — names, origins, provenance. As Minglan listened, she suddenly blurted: “What if Grandmother keeps both these trunks for herself too?”

This time Sheng Lao was genuinely surprised. She studied her granddaughter with a searching look. Minglan hesitated for quite a while, then finally said it: “Father, Mother, and Elder Brother and the sisters are all certainly filial! But Grandmother must have something set aside for herself. Better to have grain in hand than to go hungry — and to have money in hand is peace of mind…” In truth, what she wanted to say was: money in hand is always more reliable than in someone else’s — and that was the heartfelt wisdom of someone who had spent years working in a civil disputes court. But she couldn’t quite say it so bluntly.

Sheng Lao felt a warmth stir in her heart. She said gently: “Good child — rest assured. Your grandmother’s ‘coffin funds’ are well stocked.”

Since the residence had many servants, including many who had been part of Sheng Lao’s original household staff, the elder stayed to speak with them at some length. Worried that Minglan might grow bored, she sent her out to wander the garden. Minglan pouted: “I don’t much like wandering gardens.” She wanted to go wander the streets.

Sheng Lao put on a stern face and handed her a small abacus: “Then practice your figures. If you can’t even count properly, you’ll ruin the household when you’re married someday.” Minglan looked at her grandmother with mournful eyes, weighed her options, and said with pained reluctance: “Then I suppose I’ll go wander the garden.”

She had sat through arithmetic competitions at every level of school, including advanced mathematics — mental calculation was second nature to her!

Minglan wandered without any enthusiasm around half the garden lake, then sat down on a white stone beneath a yellowing willow tree. She propped her cheeks in both hands and stared out at the water in a daze. The Jinling lake water was clear and cool, so different from the lakes in Shandong. It reflected back Minglan’s face — all scrunched up like a bitter melon. Minglan suddenly felt a wave of childish petulance, and picked up a handful of stones, one by one throwing them into the lake at random.

Her trousseau had already been prepared — it seemed Grandmother had some clear idea about her marriage in mind. Yet she refused to let Minglan ask. No matter how much she doted on her, no matter how much Minglan managed to soften her, Sheng Lao had always firmly refused to let Minglan have any part in discussing her own marriage. The story went that in her own time, Sheng Lao had taken matters into her own hands — and the result was that at a flower-appreciating banquet, she had secretly glimpsed the newly minted third-place scholar, heard him recite a couple of lines of poetry, and fallen for him on the spot. Against the wishes of her loving parents, she had married down into the Sheng family. A few years into the marriage, love cooled, and husband and wife grew estranged and antagonistic.

It sounded exactly like something from a story — and indeed, it was said that art grows from life. But Minglan was a rational person trained in law, and she would never fall head-over-heels at first sight and go rushing into marriage against all reason! Minglan continued throwing her little stones into the lake with melancholy. She really did want to know who her future husband would be.

“Younger Sister Minglan.” A clear and pleasant young male voice rang out.

Minglan looked up in a daze, glancing blankly about — and then spotted a handsome young man standing at the edge of the lake, walking toward her. He saw Minglan’s blank, dazed expression and said with a smile as he approached: “Has Sister forgotten who I am?”

Minglan broke into a bright smile, stood up, and curtsied with playful formality: “Elder Brother He Hong! Allow your little sister to pay her respects!”

He Hong walked to a spot a few steps away from Minglan and stopped. He clasped his hands in a bow: “My grandmother and I have called on you unannounced today — I hope we haven’t been presumptuous.”

Minglan noticed the plain mourning sash He Hong wore over his clothing, and composed her expression: “For your maternal great-grandfather’s funeral procession — Grandmother and I had meant to come, but…” He Hong waved his hand quickly, with a warm smile: “You were originally here to attend a happy occasion, and staying at your uncle’s family too — it would not have been right for auspicious and inauspicious events to cross. It was correct of you not to come.”

Minglan said softly: “Grandmother He must be deeply grieved.”

He Hong came closer. Looking at Minglan with a gentle expression, he said with composure: “My grandmother is broad-minded. She often says that all people come into the world and must leave it — this is the natural order. My maternal great-grandfather was already of advanced age, and passed peacefully in his sleep. That is what they call a blessed death. Why fear death? What matters is how one lives while alive.”

Minglan was struck by this for a moment, then nodded: “Grandmother He’s words are wise. I’m not afraid of death either — I only fear living a life that isn’t worthwhile.”

He Hong seemed moved by this. He smiled: “I’m not afraid of death either — I only fear not having long enough to live.”

Minglan finally laughed aloud at that. Seeing her laugh, He Hong then asked: “What were you doing just now, looking so pained and glum? Did you receive too small a red envelope at your cousin’s wedding?”

Minglan shook her head, pulling a long face: “I can’t do abacus counting. Grandmother says I’ll ruin the family fortune.” She couldn’t very well say she had been worrying about being married off blind with no say in the matter, so she made something up on the spot.

He Hong gave a laugh: “What’s so terrible about that? When I was small, I took a jar of top-quality ginseng paste and fed it to the goldfish. I don’t know how much I went through — the goldfish all went belly-up. Father chased me around afterward, lecturing me that I was ruining the family.” At the memory of his late father, He Hong’s expression dimmed slightly.

Minglan shook her head vigorously: “Your father had it wrong. That was not ruining the family — that was incompetent medicine. Our mistakes are entirely incomparable, so please don’t lump me in with you.”

He Hong burst out laughing. He pointed at Minglan, shaking his head again and again. The young man’s manner was warm and unhurried; his smile was bright and easy. Sunlight played on the lake’s surface; an autumn breeze carried a faint, clean fragrance of grass and leaves; and Minglan felt the clouds in her heart begin, gradually, to clear.