This return to the Sheng Family’s ancestral home bore none of the joyful atmosphere Minglan had experienced two years prior. The servant women moving in and out of the inner quarters tread lightly, not daring to make the slightest noise or laughter.

Minglan first paid her respects to Sheng Wei and his wife, who both looked pale and thin. Li Shi wore a face hollowed out by exhaustion. They say that prolonged illness by the bedside tests even the most filial, yet the Grand Elder was no ordinary mother — she had weathered untold hardships while raising her young daughter alone, and it was through those struggles that the Sheng Family had come to flourish as it had today. As the eldest daughter-in-law of the main branch, Li Shi was bound to give her all, and after these past months, she looked as though half her life had been wrung out of her.

“Father, Mother — you have suffered greatly, attending to Grandmother at her sickbed. I have come too late!” Changwu wept, collapsing at Sheng Wei and his wife’s knees. Yun’er knelt beside him. Li Shi hurriedly helped her son and daughter-in-law to their feet, then drew Yun’er to sit beside her, saying repeatedly: “My dear child, you are with child — this journey alone must have tired you already. Once you have seen the Elder, go and rest. No one in this household will think ill of you.”

Yun’er firmly declined. Sheng Wei also said: “Listen to your mother. This was what the Elder herself instructed beforehand.”

Li Shi then turned, taking Minglan and little Changdong each by the hand with warmth and tenderness: “Good children, you must be tired too. Come quickly with me.”

Stepping into the Grand Elder’s bedchamber, Minglan caught the sharp, pungent smell of medicinal herbs. In the center of the room stood a five-tiered gilt bronze lotus-throne warming brazier, its silver silk charcoal glimmering and flickering within. Outside it was bitter cold, but stepping inside, warmth rushed over them at once. Little Changdong could not help but shudder. Minglan gently rubbed his back.

Sheng Lao was seated at the head of the bed. On catching sight of his own granddaughter and grandson, the solemn expression on his face softened into a faint smile, and he gave a slight nod, but said nothing. Changwu had already stepped forward in a single stride, throwing himself down before the bed, weeping with grief: “Grandmother — your grandson has come!”

Minglan moved closer and saw that the Grand Elder’s full head of white hair had been combed neatly and tidily. Her eye sockets had sunk deep, and even the bridge of her nose seemed to have flattened somewhat. She lay reclining in weakness, her eyes tightly shut. Upon hearing Changwu’s voice, she could only part her lips and move them slightly, unable to produce any sound. At last, with the help of the medicinal attendant woman, she struggled to give a single nod — and before long, she had lapsed back into unconsciousness.

The Shi woman attending at the bedside gently wiped her own tears and said, voice choked: “Since a few days ago, Grandmother has lost her speech. She can only swallow thin gruel. Today is actually a better day.” Changwu quickly bowed: “Sister-in-law, you have worked tirelessly.”

Fearing to disturb the Grand Elder’s rest, everyone withdrew. Returning to sit in the main room, Changwu and his wife, along with Minglan and Changdong, paid their respects to Sheng Lao. Sheng Lao asked a few questions about how things were in the capital, and Changwu answered them one by one.

Li Shi noticed the large and small trunks and baskets piled up outside, and found it strange. Changwu hesitated: “…The leave of absence has already been reported — nine months…”

Li Shi’s heart ached. After her son was promoted to the rank of Battalion Commander, she had enjoyed no small amount of pride at both her parents’ home and her husband’s family. By now their household was one with both money and official standing. Though tending to the Grand Elder was taxing, she had endured it all by imagining that her grandchildren would one day show her the same filial devotion — but that did not mean she was willing to let her son sacrifice his career prospects for it.

Li Shi scolded: “Acting on your own initiative! You should stay in the capital and serve your post properly. We have your father and older brother and sister-in-law here at home. The court has issued no clear mandate requiring grandchildren to observe a full mourning withdrawal!”

What if someone took his post while he was away?

Sheng Wei glanced at Sheng Lao, then said with authority: “The boy told me about this in advance. Although no clear edict requires it, Feng Ge’er shows this filial heart, and that is a good thing. You keep out of this — I know what I am doing.”

Sheng Lao was holding Minglan’s small hand, turning to look his precious granddaughter up and down to see whether she had grown thinner or fuller. Hearing these words, he smiled faintly, and then turned to console Li Shi: “Niece-in-law, there is no need to worry. Her uncle has long since made arrangements with the senior and deputy commanders of the Zhongwei Guard — the position will be held for Feng Ge’er. And should the nation need him urgently, his superiors will recall him by imperial decree regardless of his mourning leave.”

Sheng Wei and his wife were overjoyed and immediately told Changwu and his wife to kowtow to Sheng Lao. Minglan, ever quick-witted, immediately stepped forward to help her elder cousin-brother and his wife up, saying repeatedly: “Sister-in-law is with child and should not be moving about carelessly — please do sit down quickly. Cousin-brother Changwu is filial by nature, and whether in official career or family succession, all will surely go smoothly for him.”

Li Shi was very pleased to see Minglan so sensible and sweet-spoken. She took two prepared pouches from a nearby maidservant and tucked one each into Minglan’s and Changdong’s hands. Then she slid a pair of jadeite bracelets off her own wrist and slipped them onto Minglan.

Minglan saw that the bracelets were a vivid emerald green, clear and translucent, smooth and warm against the skin, without so much as a single streak of discoloration throughout — a rare and fine piece indeed. She immediately tried repeatedly to decline, but Li Shi would not hear of it, saying with a fond expression: “Good child, next year you will have your coming-of-age ceremony, and your Eldest Aunt-in-law will not be able to attend and offer her congratulations in person. Consider this your early gift — you must not refuse.”

Minglan glanced back, saw Sheng Lao give a slight nod, then accepted the gift and expressed her thanks with a proper curtsy. As she dipped into the bow, she thought to herself:

Eldest Aunt-in-law, you need not worry. Men in officialdom are all sharp-eyed. Although there is no strict rule requiring grandchildren to observe mourning leave, one very real difference between military officers and civil officials is this: in peaceful times, a military officer’s presence or absence makes very little difference. Far better to take nine months of mourning leave and earn a fine reputation for filial piety. Besides, Sheng Hong and Changbai will be there to keep watch over his post.

After that, the adults had things to discuss and the children were sent out. Little Changdong had ridden on horseback for two hours, and though he had found it entertaining at first, he had suffered through the latter half — the muscles on the inner sides of his thighs ached terribly. Changwu had long since called for a servant woman to prepare medicinal ointment to apply to them.

Minglan had wanted to go in and look after him, but little Changdong, pulling a straight face, chased her out. Minglan stared at the door that had just been slammed shut in front of her, and complained inwardly: It’s just a little bird — what is there to make such a fuss about? As if I’ve never seen one before.

No sooner had she stepped outside than Ran was there waiting for her. The moment she saw Minglan, she grabbed her sleeve with a fierce look: “Hand over those bracelets!” Those bracelets had long been coveted by Ran — they were one of Li Shi’s most treasured possessions.

Minglan huffed with exasperation: “I truly have the worst luck lately. A few days ago I ran into river bandits, and today I’m being robbed.” In truth, Li Shi had already prepared separate coming-of-age gifts in the capital for each of the girls in the family.

As she spoke, Minglan slid the bracelets off her wrists and passed them to Ran. Ran eagerly held them up to the light, then slipped them onto her own wrist to try them on, comparing them against herself for a long while — and then returned them to Minglan. Minglan kept one and pushed the other back: “One each — that settles it.”

Ran liked them very much in her heart but felt embarrassed, and hesitated: “Mother gave these to you — how could I possibly…”

Minglan patted her shoulder and teased: “Take it. Share and share alike — isn’t that the rule on your side of things?”

The result of this bit of teasing was another vigorous mauling at the hands of Ran’s formidable iron grip.

After the evening meal, Minglan followed Sheng Lao back to her room, and only then did they have the chance to speak at leisure. Yet no sooner had Minglan snuggled up against the Elder’s arm, all smiles and ready to say something playful, than the Elder’s face went cold and she barked: “Kneel!”

Minglan was startled. The Elder said sharply: “Will you not kneel!”

Minglan leapt away from the Elder and went straight down onto her knees with a thud — and then Nanny Fang appeared from behind, wearing a stern expression, carrying a ruler that sent chills up the spine.

“Left hand!” the Elder commanded, ruler in hand, her voice cold as ice.

Minglan timidly extended her left hand. The Elder raised the ruler high and said gravely: “Do you know where you went wrong?”

Minglan stared at that gleaming brass ruler and thought to herself that she had committed so many errors — could she at least have a hint? Nanny Fang, ever considerate, reminded her: “At midday, the Second Young Mistress Changwu told us about the river bandits encountered on the journey.”

Minglan closed her eyes helplessly. Yun’er certainly had a quick tongue. This time, she knew exactly which landmine she had stepped on. She admitted quietly: “Your granddaughter knows she was wrong. She should not have acted recklessly and placed herself in danger.”

“Good that you know.” The Elder was impartial and unmoved. Admitting fault was merely the first article of the first clause of the punishment code; what followed was the actual striking, the lecture, the explanation of principles, and the copying of texts — all in due order. Should one refuse to admit fault, there would be an extended encore as well. However, in view of Minglan’s good attitude toward reform, the sentence was reduced.

“You foolish girl — it is because the Elder loves you that she is punishing you.” Nanny Fang rubbed a layer of gardenia-scented medicinal ointment onto Minglan’s palm and went on chattering slowly: “This time it was fortunate — everyone involved knew each other, and the incident happened outside, neither in the capital nor in Yuhang, so as long as everything above and below was handled properly, there would be no gossip. But when Second Young Mistress told the Elder, the Elder was so frightened her hands shook — she could not even steady the lid of her bowl. The matter is resolved, but you truly must change this temperament of yours, young miss. The Elder cannot go on like this — even with her eyes closed, she will not know a moment’s peace.”

Minglan, who in her mind was an adult, naturally knew right from wrong. She understood she had given the Elder a terrible fright, and felt genuinely remorseful. Once the ointment had been applied, she slipped into the Elder’s room with a bright smile, fawning on the Elder like a small dog wagging its tail — now folding her hands in a bow, now dipping into a curtsy — until at last she crawled up onto the Elder’s heated sleeping platform and clung to her like a piece of sticky taffy, coaxing and wheedling.

Over these past few years, Minglan had grown quite practiced in the full art of acting spoiled and endearing herself; the Elder had never been able to hold out against it. No matter how great the anger, it would dissipate. When it truly became unbearable, the Elder grabbed Minglan and gave her a few hard swats to vent her feelings.

Nanny Fang estimated that the force of those swats was just about enough to kill a mosquito.

Since the Grand Elder lay gravely ill, the usual activities that Ran would have dragged Minglan into — climbing trees, wading in streams, catching birds, fishing — were all out of the question. For now they could only stay properly within the inner quarters. Minglan wrote characters and copied texts, while Ran sat beside her tallying accounts. Minglan embroidered and painted with elegant, graceful posture; Ran abacus-clicked and counted copper coins with a thoroughly mercenary air.

It was a stark contrast. Ran became despondent. Minglan said with complete sincerity: “I actually prefer your kind of work.”

Every few days, Sheng Yun would come with Taisheng to visit the Grand Elder. Sheng Yun sat at the bedside weeping over her dying mother; Taisheng was responsible for comforting his grieving cousin-sister.

Not Minglan.

Ran had indeed grown up. She knew how to blush at the sight of Taisheng now, and no longer spoke with that rough and reckless manner. She even knew how to be gentle and sweet-tempered in front of her aunt Sheng Yun — well, to act the part of a well-bred young lady, at least. Though in Minglan’s professional estimation, Ran still had a long way to go.

The cold wind cut like a blade. Deep winter had arrived. Dense snowflakes covered the entire courtyard. The Grand Elder could hold on no longer. Inside the room, warm charcoal fires burned, yet the atmosphere was heavy and sorrowful. Since the previous night, the Grand Elder had fallen into complete unconsciousness; only the faint rise and fall of her chest showed she was still alive. Sheng Wei and his wife kept constant watch at the bedside.

On the small table beside the bed sat a silver tray with a few soft feathers on it. The medicinal attendant woman would place a feather before the Grand Elder’s nostrils from time to time to test whether any faint breath still remained. Sheng Yun lay prostrate at the bedside, softly weeping and calling “Mother” over and over. Around them, sons and daughters-in-law, grandchildren and daughters-in-law either sat or stood throughout the room. Only Yun’er had been excused from attending at the bedside, for fear the illness might pass to her.

Suddenly, the Grand Elder’s breathing became rapid and urgent. The short, sharp sound of her gasping filled the hushed room. Sheng Wei immediately rushed to her side, supporting her: “Mother — if you have something to say, your son and little sister are both here!”

The Grand Elder’s eyelids moved with difficulty. Then her eyes flew open. Her hands, like dried bones, seized Sheng Wei and Sheng Yun with sudden force, and she struggled upright, her sallow and withered face flushed with a strange ruddy color.

“Mother, what is wrong? Please speak!” Sheng Yun quietly held the Grand Elder’s body and wept.

The Grand Elder’s eyes stared vacantly, seeing something no one else could see. Her lips murmured several times — and then she let out a sudden piercing cry: “…Hong’er! My Hong’er!” The shrill wail froze every person in the room.

The Grand Elder seemed seized by madness, crying out in a hoarse, desperate voice: “Hong’er!…It is all Mother’s fault! Mother could not protect you!”

Sheng Wei and his sister were both streaming with tears. The Grand Elder erupted into a violent fit of coughing, then collapsed back as though all strength had left her. From her throat came a broken, rasping sound, halting and intermittent: “…Hong’er, you — you can rest easy. Mother avenged you! That wicked servant woman who harmed you — harmed you — Mother found her! Mother searched through several provinces…and found her! She thought that running off with the money meant she could live in comfort — ha ha ha…No chance of that! Mother sold her to the lowest and most wretched coal mine there was. After she dies…her bones will be ground to dust and her ashes scattered to the winds! …Revenge has been had…revenge has been had…”

The sound of that laughter was worse than weeping. Minglan could not imagine this woman, who had always seemed so gentle and kindly, could produce words so startlingly vicious. How deep must the hatred have been.

The Grand Elder’s breathing grew faint; she struggled to draw air. Still she continued to growl, low and hoarse: “…Sheng Huaizhong!…You — you favored your concubine and shamed your lawful wife, you were blinded by beauty and gave no thought to the lives of your own children — I will take my case before the King of Hell himself!” Her every word was saturated with hatred.

After one final, sharp inhalation, the Grand Elder shuddered several times — and then closed her eyes and lay still.

The medicinal attendant held a feather to the Grand Elder’s nostrils, then shook her head at the assembled family. Sheng Wei and Sheng Yun looked at their mother’s gaunt and exhausted face, thinking of all the hardships she had endured in her lifetime, and wept aloud. All the younger generations around them wept with them. The servant women and maidservants outside heard the crying from within and joined in with their own wails and laments.

Minglan bowed her head and pressed her face against Sheng Lao’s knee, weeping quietly. She had never endured such suffering herself, yet she felt an indescribable ache in her chest — a woman’s entire life had just passed away.

All the funeral arrangements had been prepared in advance. The washing of the body, the changing into mourning garments, the setting up of the mourning hall, the procession, the laying in of the coffin — all of it was handled properly and thoroughly by Li Shi and the Shi woman. Sheng Wei had long held a fine reputation in the township — he was compassionate toward the weak and elderly and prompt in charitable giving — and the Hu Family, too, was a prosperous merchant household. The funeral was conducted with considerable ceremony: fifty-one monks were engaged, and a full fifteen-day water-and-land dharma assembly was performed.

Every person of standing in Yuhang came to pay their condolences — from the prefect at the top to small merchant families at the bottom, none were absent. Sheng Wei had at first waited to see whether Sheng Hong or Changbai would take funeral leave and come, but by the day of the burial procession, neither had arrived, so the burial proceeded.

Several families who had long been on good terms set up offering tents along the route. The gaudy and colorful pavilions were erected one after another, and the coffin-carrying procession wound all the way around Yuhang before at last arriving at the Sheng Family ancestral burial ground on the outskirts of town, where the Grand Elder was laid to rest.

The day after the funeral, news came from outside: the King of Jing, enfeoffed in western Anhui, had raised his banner in revolt, declaring that the current Emperor had usurped the throne by falsifying the late Emperor’s will. King Jing had been plotting for a long time and had stockpiled ample troops and weapons. Fires of rebellion now erupted throughout the Anhui region, and the rebel banners pointed northward toward the capital — and so all water and land routes from the capital region down to Jinling had been cut off.