Minglan and Molan differed vastly in their likes and dislikes, and shared virtually no common interests, but the young woman before them now — dressed in fine silks, with beautifully arched brows — had succeeded in eliciting the same sentiment from both sisters: they both disliked her.

“Rulan Sister, that white tea you sent last time was wonderful. My mother found the appearance a little odd at first — the buds are silver-white and look rather strange — but the flavor turned out to be so lightly fragrant.” In the Carefree Pavilion, a few young women were drinking tea. Kang Yun’er held Rulan’s hand as she spoke.

Rulan pressed her lips together with a smile. “If Cousin likes it, I should have sent more — but this white tea was a share I received from Sixth Sister. You’d better ask her yourself.”

Kang Yun’er immediately turned to Minglan. Minglan blew lightly on her tea and smiled. “It’s nothing remarkable — it was sent from Yunnan by Yan Ran Sister. It’s only a novelty because it’s rare. I had so little that I couldn’t keep any — I’ve already given it all away.”

Kang Yun’er’s dainty oval face fell. She fixed her gaze on Minglan. “It seems Sixth Sister doesn’t think of me as family — why was there nothing for me when you were dividing it up?” The displeasure in her eyes was already faintly visible.

Molan laughed sweetly. “Oh, Cousin Kang, my Sixth Sister is the most straightforward of us all. There was only so little tea to begin with — hardly enough for the sisters of the household. Naturally it goes to those closest before anyone else.”

That was adding fuel to the fire. Kang Yun’er was the youngest daughter of Kang Yimu, and had been spoiled and imperious at home from childhood, with her mother’s indulgence behind her. The daughters of the lesser branch in her household didn’t dare breathe too loudly in front of her. She had never been snubbed like this before, and hearing Molan’s words, she let out a cold laugh at once. “You’re sending things all over the place — even Elder Sister’s daughter Ying has a share — yet nothing for me! It seems my little cousin sister looks down on me. I’ll have to go and say a thing or two to Auntie about this.”

Rulan also frowned. “You really might have set a little aside for Cousin — you’re all family.”

Minglan set down the still-scalding tea bowl and shook out her warm hands, unhurried: “Look at what Cousin is saying. It’s not as though I had idle hands. Elder Yan Ran Sister sent a total of two and a half catties of white tea. One catty I sent back to the old family home in Youyang for Grandmother — she is looking after Great-Uncle on our branch’s behalf there, and has truly worked hard; us grandchildren ought to be filial to her in return. Half a catty went to Mother. The remainder was divided between the four of us sisters, Elder Sister-in-Law, and Cousin Yun’er Sister. Since Elder Sister has cared for me so much since we were young, I also gave her my own share — which is why Elder Cousin Ying has some too. If Cousin truly likes it, I’ll write to Yan Ran Sister and ask her to send more — though Yunnan is far, we shall have to wait.”

When all was said and done, everyone Minglan had given tea to was from the Sheng family. As for you, an outsider by a different surname, what grounds did you have to bark here? Minglan hadn’t even kept any for herself — she had given it all to Hualan. Even if this were reported to Wang Shi, Minglan had nothing she couldn’t account for.

Kang Yun’er found no fault she could seize on. She pressed her lips together with ill-concealed displeasure and smiled. “I was only speaking casually — why take it so seriously, Sister?”

She was in truth the daughter of a family of standing — but her father had not amounted to much, and the family’s circumstances had declined considerably. That she could not match Hualan or Rulan in lifestyle was one thing; what she truly couldn’t stand were Molan and Rulan. She was always stirring up trouble between them — outwardly smiling and perfectly amiable, but behind people’s backs constantly telling Rulan little tales of how she herself lorded it over the daughters of the lesser branch at home. After each of her visits, Rulan would inevitably have some quarrel or other with Molan and Minglan.

Kang Yun’er’s eyes shifted, and she smiled again. “I hear everywhere that Sixth Sister is clever with her hands and much praised for her needlework. Those two curtains I asked you to make for my mother — how are they coming along?” Minglan said lightly: “Not for a while yet, I’m afraid.”

Kang Yun’er, accustomed to venting her temper on the lesser-branch sisters at home, let out a cold sound: “Making a few pieces for an elder and she stalls and delays like this. They say Sister is filial and virtuous — is this how you put things off? Or is it that you look down on my mother?”

Minglan glanced at Molan, who was sitting nearby with eyes downcast over her tea, and decided she would have to fight this battle alone. She put on a look of being somewhat at a loss: “What a thing to say, Cousin. It isn’t as if I’ve had nothing to do. With the heat these past weeks, I was thinking that young children are most susceptible to catching a chill in hot weather, so I made two soft layered cotton inner vests for Shi Ge’er and Quan Ge’er first. I am clumsy and slow, and it took me a great deal of effort. Kang Yimu is an elder — she will certainly understand that children come first.”

Rulan’s eyes lit up. “Those vests… you made two?” Minglan gave her a subtle double blink of the eyes, conveying: yes.

Rulan immediately looked down and said nothing. Every time Minglan made something for Hualan, she always made two — one set attributed to Rulan, so that among the relatives they visited back and forth, Rulan could also appear to be a girl of great kindness and virtue. Minglan had always been appropriately tactful in this regard.

Kang Yun’er saw that Rulan was not helping her, and grew even more annoyed. “And when exactly will they be finished? Don’t think you can keep putting it off — the sisters at my house finished theirs long ago.”

Minglan spread both her white, tender little hands in innocence. “How can I be compared to Cousin’s household? Fifth Sister has only one little sister, while Cousin has people aplenty. Ah, Fifth Sister — if only you had a few more little sisters, it would be so lively, and there would be more helping hands too.”

Rulan’s expression went peculiar — even blood-tied sisters were more than she wanted; a few more was unthinkable. Molan burst out with a small laugh, then covered her mouth and tried to suppress it. Kang Yun’er stamped her foot: “What does that have to do with anything?! I’m saying you’re too slow!”

Minglan said earnestly: “Cousin is right. I shall practice diligently and learn more from you and the others. I really must work my way up to the skill level of professional embroidery women out in the world.”

Even Rulan could not keep the corners of her mouth from curving upward at this. Kang Yimu had a sweet tongue and a bitter heart, and was fond of ordering around and making things difficult for the lesser-branch girls; they married badly and were given away badly. In the many times Kang Yimu had visited, Minglan had only ever seen two of the lesser-branch daughters of the Kang family — both lovely as flowers and jade, but what a pity. One was timid and shrinking, unable to hold herself in any setting of significance; the other was ingratiating and eager to please, flattering the legitimate mother and daughter at every turn.

Every time she witnessed such a scene, Minglan silently thanked heaven for not letting her be reborn into that sort of household — otherwise she might well have turned around and immediately gone to seek her own death. Come to think of it, Kang Yun’er was the sort who bully the weak and yield to the strong. She simply regarded Minglan as someone with neither a birth mother nor a full brother, and therefore fair game.

Kang Yun’er was fuming, but could not find a thing to rebut — Minglan never, in words, gave anyone a handle to grip.

Just then, a commotion broke out somewhere outside — the sound of an argument. Rulan frowned and sent Xique to see. After a moment, Xique came back smiling and reported: “Young Miss, nothing serious at all — Xizhi found a new hairpin in the room and tried it on, and Xiye saw and thought she was being slighted, not knowing Xizhi’s family had sent it from home; there were a few words exchanged. I gave them both a talking-to, and now they’ve made up.”

Rulan was about to say something when Molan cut in first, half-joking and half-serious: “That maid doesn’t know her place. Though they’re all house-born servants from the same household, Xizhi’s mother has always been trusted and relied upon by the Master, and her brother and sister-in-law are capable — while Xiye’s mother died long ago and her father is a drunken wastrel. How can she compare herself to Xizhi? Even if she wants to compare, she should first see whether she’s worthy.”

Kang Yun’er’s complexion went ashen. Rulan looked uncomfortable, not knowing what to say. Molan deliberately let her gaze sweep over them both, then continued, addressing Xique: “And another thing: though they are all maids in the young ladies’ quarters, they each have their own mothers, and their surnames and family origins are quite different. Always peering into other people’s business, getting puffed up the moment anyone gives them a good look — some of you had better not start thinking too well of yourselves.”

Kang Yun’er slapped the table and shot to her feet, the tendons visible on her reddened little hand, and exploded: “What do you mean by that?!”

Molan feigned surprise. “I was only correcting that maid. I didn’t raise my hand against anyone or say anything unkind. Could it be that Cousin objects? I would never overstep my place — if I want to discipline maids, I’ll do it in my own courtyard.” Molan looked at Kang Yun’er with a pleasant smile. Her support had never come from Wang Shi. Kang Yun’er had never stopped mocking Molan’s birth from the lesser branch, and Kang Yimu had persistently advised Wang Shi against finding good matches for the lesser-branch daughters, lest they overshadow the legitimate branch in the future. The grievances had run deep for years.

Kang Yun’er fumed and retorted a few more things, and the gathering came to an unhappy end.

Minglan looked out at the leaves trembling on the branches, which seemed to have begun floating down — the air was beginning to feel of autumn. She turned to Rulan with a smile. “The weather is turning cold. Father’s knees always ache in the cold. Why don’t we make him a pair of knee-warmers? Fifth Sister, would you like to come do the napping of the velvet?”

Sheng Hong had a reasonable understanding of what each of his daughters was capable of and wouldn’t be fooled by a complete deception — but a little help in the making was enough to count as a contribution, enough for Sheng Hong to give a word of praise. Rulan brightened at once. “Yes, let’s. I happen to have some nice fabric — come choose what you like later.” In reality, even the napping work would be done by the maids; Rulan would simply be providing the materials.

By the regulations of mourning for officials and nobles, for the women of the inner household things were not so different — simply no opera performances, no grand banquets. One could still pay calls and visit relatives, do some needlework, share in some gossip; the days could be passed that way.

But for the men it was far more difficult. The sons of powerful and noble households in the capital endured the first few months, and then some of the more prominent families began revealing their true colors — some hosting clandestine dinner parties at home, some seeking pleasure in the entertainment districts, others secretly taking on additional concubines.

The new Emperor had only just ascended the throne, and the officials had not yet taken the measure of his temperament, so their memorials had been somewhat restrained and tentative. But then a freshly assigned and recklessly bold young censor in Sheng Hong’s department submitted a memorial that exposed the doings of all manner of dissolute young men among the powerful households of the capital. The Emperor’s face turned iron-gray with fury, and he broke out in anger on the spot at court.

He had only just become Emperor, and for the sake of observing mourning for his father, he dared not sleep with his concubines, dared not host wine banquets — even the female musicians in the palace had been dismissed. He was living a more austere life than a Buddhist monk, purer than spring water — and yet the noble-born and privileged brats below, eating the imperial salary, had the audacity to set fires while he, the magistrate, was forbidden even a candle? Did they take him for a dead man?!

The Emperor moved swiftly. First, he lavishly commended the reckless young censor — praising him for being “forthright and of loyal character,” “not the sort to flatter and ingratiate” — and immediately promoted him with a reward. Then he issued a decree ordering the Shuntian Prefect to intensify enforcement, directing the censorate to expand its supervisory powers, and putting the Five-Battalion Constabulary on standby to make arrests at any moment.

With a model before them, the Bureau of Censorate immediately became busy. Sheng Hong, having already established some footing, naturally did not wish to offend too many powerful people, and kept to writing about lighter and less sensitive matters. But the young and bold lesser censors were emboldened with reckless courage, and between them they managed to impeach nearly every prominent household in the capital. In ancient times, the standards of male virtue were simple: filial piety and loyalty came first. The new Emperor had taken “mourning for the late Emperor” as his banner, and no one could argue against it — least of all the principled censors and court literati, who had always found the privileged nobility distasteful.

In the space of half a month, the Emperor had reprimanded more than ten noble and official households, with punishments ranging from salary reduction to demotion to official reprimand.

Some of the more conspicuous imperial relatives and close kin, refusing to submit to control, publicly insulted the officials who came on inspection rounds. The Emperor immediately dispatched the Forbidden Guard to arrest them, brought them to the palace for a flogging, and once they had recovered, had them dragged into the National Academy’s dormitories and confined there. He engaged several scholars of righteous indignation to run a special training class for them, with concentrated study on the principles of propriety, justice, integrity, honor, loyalty, filial piety, moral conduct, and duty.

The Emperor personally appointed two Grand Scholars to conduct periodic evaluations, calling on students to recite passages at random — those who could not recite their assigned texts were not permitted to go home; those who showed disrespect to their teachers were flogged again. How’s that, you little specimens, still not intimidated?!

These idle scions had spent their days cockfighting, dog-racing, bullying commoners and abusing women — what time had they ever found for studying and accumulating knowledge? The required period extended again and again. As the weather grew cold, they were still inside, gnawing wretchedly on their greens and mantou buns. A few of the most lawless ones had been beaten black and blue, and the one crying most piteously for his mother was the treasured son of the Eldest Royal Princess Qingning. She marched straight to the palace to plead for mercy, only to find herself stopped before she could so much as get an audience with either of the two Empress Dowagers.

An attendant read out the imperial edict in a voice of cold ice: “The late Emperor has passed on. The nation is in grief. You are of imperial blood and bone, deeply blessed by imperial grace. How can you permit such dissipation and defiance? Such a one who is disloyal and unfilial alike is of no use to be preserved.”

The Princess, hearing this, was struck with terror. The late Emperor of the Rénzong reign had been known for his broad benevolence — he had habitually indulged and protected the various imperial grandchildren and close relatives of the court and capital, and had very rarely punished those among the powerful and well-connected nobility. It was only now that the Princess truly grasped it: the Emperor had changed. After that, not a single person dared to go to the palace to plead a case.

By the time this collection of idle young wastrels emerged from the training class, they also had to go to the palace to express their gratitude in person. Each declared that their cultural level had undergone a qualitative transformation, and that they could henceforth help their families write scrolls and invitations without difficulty. Several who had suffered spiritual injury during their period of correction could even give vent to feeling and compose a few lopsided lines of verse — the tones and rhymes at least being reasonably matched in balance.

After this round of repression, it was clear to everyone inside and outside the court: whatever else might be said of the new Emperor, he was certainly not someone to be trifled with. He was not to be swayed as easily as the old Emperor had been.

“The Emperor is establishing his authority.” Sheng Hong stood before his desk in a plain blue official’s round-collared robe, setting down his brush after finishing a piece of calligraphy, then stroked the long beard at his chin. “And quite right too — better to subdue the capital first before attending to anything else.”

Changbai, standing to one side, was quiet for a moment, then said softly: “The Emperor has now ascended — can there still be those who refuse to comply?”

Sheng Hong took up a small brush tipped in vermilion and purple, and added a note to the corner of the work: “There are, naturally. The King of Jing is the late Emperor’s fifth son — in order of birth, it is he who ought to have taken the throne. Yet the late Emperor disliked his violent and cruel nature and enfeoffed him to a distant territory long ago, driving him from the capital. After the upheaval of the Shen-Chen year, the late Emperor hastened to make the current Emperor’s birth mother Empress — legitimacy, through the higher rank, enabled the establishment of the current Crown Prince. How could the King of Jing be expected to submit?”

Changbai nodded slightly, understanding more clearly. “Now that ruler and subjects have been formally established and the greater righteousness lies with the Emperor, one can only hope that His Majesty will be magnanimous and not press matters against the King of Jing. Pacifying the realm is no easy task.”

Sheng Hong set down his brush, seemingly rather pleased with his calligraphy, and reached for his personal seal to affix an impression. He said to his son: “Imperial family affairs are not something we can meddle in. Better to think about our own household.” After pressing the vermilion seal, he added: “Grandmother wrote in her letter that Great-Uncle may only have a few more days. When the time comes, Changwu will have to observe three years of official mourning. A pity — he hadn’t even held the position of Military Commander for a full year.”

Changbai said quietly: “Cousin’s situation is easy to handle. He has been dutiful in his post and gets along very well with his superiors and colleagues. After nine months we can help facilitate his reinstatement. But… Aunt came again yesterday.”

Sheng Hong raised the calligraphy to examine it by the light, and at these words his brow furrowed. “Your uncle’s situation — it isn’t that we’re unwilling to help. It’s that he is arrogant and presumptuous, speaking recklessly about the affairs of the cabinet, and on top of that bold enough to scrape flesh from a gnat’s leg.”

Changbai did not particularly care for their Kang uncle either, but after all he was family, and with their aunt coming repeatedly to beg for help, it was difficult to do absolutely nothing. He said: “Why don’t we help their elder cousin instead? I find him to be steady and reliable.”

Sheng Hong set down the scroll, walked back and forth a few paces, then raised his head. “That could work.”