Her parents found much to criticize about the new house, but Zhù Ying went right on executing her building plan step by step. The house was not, truth be told, her ideal house. A house’s quality did not lie in the house itself — it lay in her own circumstances.

As things stood, she had no real sense of security. Whatever house she built under these conditions would not be particularly exciting — livable was enough. She understood her situation more clearly with every passing day. Who knew when the whole family might have to flee?

If there were ever a place where she could sleep soundly without worry, without the fear of being exposed — that would be the time to talk about what her ideal home looked like.

The first house one truly owns carries a particular meaning. Though she felt no special anticipation, when the moment came to act, she handled every related matter with complete care, doing her best to make this house respectable.

In the second month, Zhù Ying had another long-planned matter to attend to — acquiring several shops to lease out as income for the Court of Judicial Review. In the course of renovating those shops, she would have the opportunity to deal with material merchants, useful preparation for her own construction. With this as cover, she could also move about the city during the day “on official business.” Once her own house was under construction, she would have a ready excuse to come and check on it regularly.

But the critical issue was always the budget.

She had lately acquired some additional income, yet building a house like this would still require careful calculation. After the overall layout was settled, Fu Long began working out the specifics of each individual building, asking her to express her requirements for every structure and to review small models for each, until a final plan was agreed upon.

Based on that final plan, he would estimate the quantity of materials needed, listing unit prices beside each item and arriving at a total figure.

Zhù Ying had grown up in the countryside, able to turn her hand to almost anything — patching a roof, throwing up a lean-to shelter, nailing together a wooden bench. Large buildings, though, she had never worked on herself, so she had no experience in this domain. She asked Fu Long humbly; Fu Long answered patiently, telling her, “Many households love elaborate carved beams and painted pillars — quite a lot of money goes into those.”

Zhù Ying was delighted. “I have no use for that!”

How wonderful — money saved!

Fu Long then asked about the upper and lower floors: “Should there be a corridor with a railing?”

“Oh?”

“Since there’s a second floor, it would be a shame not to have a corridor upstairs for taking the air on a summer evening. Though of course it adds to the cost.”

“What’s the difference?” Zhù Ying asked.

“The simplest approach,” Fu Long said, “is a straight four-walled box — upper and lower floors, a wooden floor between them, a staircase in the wall, windows in the wall. For something slightly nicer, you put a corridor along one side — typically the front face — so both upper and lower floors have a walkway, with a railing upstairs where you can lean and look out. For something more refined, you can run a corridor all the way around the building. That’s actually not much more difficult — it just requires an extra tier of columns. A little more expensive.”

He had already taken the measure of what Zhù Ying wanted from a house, and added, “If you’re not spending money on elaborate decoration for the beams, columns, and railing, it won’t add much at all.”

“How elaborate is too elaborate?” Zhù Ying asked.

“Oh, there’s no end to the details you could lavish attention on! A plain square window — one carpenter can produce several a day. But if you want carved lattice windows with birds and flowers, three days isn’t enough for one, and it wastes material too. Doors are the same. And if the shape is a regular square or rectangle, cutting openings in walls is straightforward. But if you want round windows, octagonal windows, you need experienced workers directing the job — far more labor, far more waste. And if you add a built-in bench seat beneath the window, that costs even more. Bench seats are curved, and carving that arc takes extra labor and extra material. They also rot faster from sun and rain and become unsafe to sit on.”

In short, anything curved or carved in its finishing would inevitably eat up time, material, and money; anything built in straight lines would bring costs down equally directly.

“What if I have the railing but no built-in bench seats?”

“Without the bench seats, it becomes easy! I’ll make straight railings, and I’ll put tracks along the corridors on both upper and lower floors. When it gets cold in autumn and winter, put up the wooden panels to close off the corridor — warmer that way. In summer, take the panels down and hang bamboo curtains — very pleasant.”

“What does that look like?”

Fu Long held his palm up flat in front of the model, mimicking the act of enclosing the corridor. Like giving the house a large extra layer.

Zhù Ying understood at once. “You’re just describing how shopfronts work with those boards!”

Many shops, in order to admit light and display their goods to passersby, did not install windows on the street-facing side. Instead, the front wall was mostly open — apart from the supporting pillars and the roof and a knee-high base of brick and stone, the space was left clear so customers outside could see straight in. At night when closing up, wooden boards were slotted in one by one between the roof and the low base wall, forming a solid wooden wall, then the door panels were locked. The boards had fitted grooves and locked together firmly, stout enough to keep out ordinary thieves.

If Zhù Ying had no particular interest in decoration, the ground-floor corridor could be built this way — behind the corridor was then a normal wall with windows. The upper-floor corridor’s lower half would be a vertical wooden railing with its own boards, the same system: boards go up when the weather turns cold, come down when it’s warm or you tire of the look.

“Won’t that just be a dark cavern?” Zhù Ying said.

“Make it like window-panel doors, and paper it with window gauze. ‘A blade of grass breaks the force of ten-foot winds’ — it keeps the cold out too. When the gauze is up it still lets light through.”

“That’s good! I’ll have the wraparound corridor, without any of the fancy carved and painted trim.”

Fu Long said, “If that’s settled, this old man will shift the rooms slightly inward to leave space for the corridor.”

“Done.”

Her requirements for the house were warmth, thick walls, and a roof with extra materials laid between the rafters and the roof tiles for better insulation and security against theft. Fu Long said, “We can do all of that.”

Fu Long then asked about the interior. Zhù Ying had no particular requirements. Fu Long, understanding her preferences, suggested the simplest possible partition arrangements, without unusual decorative elements. Whatever Zhù Ying later found she liked, she could simply furnish and arrange.

“Agreed,” Zhù Ying said.

Seeing that she had raised quite a few new requests this time, Fu Long suspected she might change her mind again, and said: “The land this house stands on isn’t small — it could become three courtyards if you wished, or if you don’t want three courtyards, you could push the two courtyards forward a bit and leave a small garden behind. Are you certain you won’t regret this?”

“I want a large courtyard!” Zhù Ying said firmly. What she was really thinking was: three courtyards? How many rooms would that be? Could I possibly use them all? A garden? How many people would it take to maintain? How many servants? And where would I get the money to hire them? And with that many people around, all eyes and ears — would I ever stop worrying? This is fine! And I’ll have plenty of room to move around in the courtyard.

Fu Long went back and spent several more days producing a more complete model. When Zhù Ying looked it over, she saw that her demands had been simple and direct, yet Fu Long’s execution had nothing stiff about it — there was a quality of ancient simplicity to the design. The eaves turned up with little bells hanging from them; white walls, dark tiles; two stalks of bamboo by the study; a sweet osmanthus tree before the bedroom. A swing had been added in the rear courtyard. The position of the well had also been redesigned with a proper well platform, and a small pavilion to shelter it.

The side courtyard and other sections followed a coherent unified style, built according to established convention, without the need for special design. What Fu Long had paid close attention to was the drainage, the kitchen flue, and similar practical matters, all worked out in the plan. Apart from a rather open courtyard, there was nothing to fault.

Zhù Ying had no further objections, and asked the family for their opinions. Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da said they had their reservations, but after looking at the finished model, they found they had grown fond of it. Their only regret: if only no one had died in the old buildings.

Fu Long said, “If you find it too plain, furnish the rooms with a few well-chosen pieces, hang some colorful draperies, and plant some flowering trees around — it would be quite beautiful. A house like this excels in one quality: solidity. It is built to endure. It’s like a person with fine bone structure and a sound constitution — dress her as you will, she’ll always be a beauty. If the family grows in the future and you find you need more rooms, adding on will be easy enough too — the space has been left for exactly that.”

He would also provide rough dimensions for the matching furniture, and when Zhù Ying had assembled her craftsmen, he would come back to explain the design specifications to each trade.

Zhù Ying saw that no one in the family had any further objections and said, “Very well!”

Fu Long then worked out the full cost. For each category of material, there were two or three options — the better quality the more expensive, the ordinary the less.

Fu Long advised, “The large columns, the roof beams — those absolutely must be quality materials, and so must the foundations! On other things, economizing is perfectly fine, and repairs can always be done later.”

“I want durability,” Zhù Ying said. “How it looks is secondary.”

“I understand,” Fu Long said. “That will save a great deal — some materials are essentially the same in practice, just with one or two selling points that make them expensive.”

“None of those!”

Fu Long nodded with full comprehension. Watching Zhù Ying select the most sturdy options across all the essential materials, he thought to himself: a genuine, practical person.

The final figure was one Zhù Ying could comfortably accept. With labor, furniture, and extras included, along with sinking a sweet-water well, the total came to just over two hundred guan — almost the same as what she had paid for the land itself. Zhù Ying was quite satisfied. She offered Fu Long two guan as an advance. Fu Long refused; Zhù Ying said, “You still have to eat and support your household through these months, don’t you?” and pressed the money into his hands.

Then she went to find Wang Yunhe and gather her people.

——

Wang Yunhe saw her coming and smiled. “This time there must be something to discuss.”

Zhù Ying came right out and informed him she was ready to start building.

“Very well,” Wang Yunhe said. He assigned a clerk to take her to the roster books and find suitable craftsmen, then did not follow along himself.

Zhù Ying found the craftsmen first and brought them one by one to meet with Fu Long, who produced the full set of models to discuss with them the specifics of the work and arranged a schedule for each trade.

Zhù Ying then went to find additional laborers, going out to the market and hiring some farmers who had finished their work and were taking on odd jobs. She brought them all to Fu Long as well and had him start directing the demolition of the old buildings. Fu Long said, “Some of the bricks and timber from the demolished buildings are still usable. If you don’t want them in your own house, they’d do just fine for building a stable. As for the compound wall — build it last. Temporarily use the old bricks to put up a rough perimeter first: it keeps out prying eyes and deters theft. Once the main buildings are done, tear down the temporary wall and build a proper new one, then finally put up the main gate.”

“That’ll do,” Zhù Ying said.

She also arranged, without troubling anyone else, to bring in her tenant farmer Old Tian. He would receive three meals a day and, on completion of the job, one set of clothing and one guan of cash. He was to watch over the building site. The work wasn’t particularly lucrative, but it was light. Old Tian appeared with his bedroll the very next day.

Though his bedroll was intact, it was very worn. Zhù Ying fetched him a new set of bedding from the house. The next day, when she came to check on the demolition, she found Old Tian had set up his narrow sleeping platform inside a small hut the workers had thrown up for him from old bricks — and he was using his old bedding.

“Did the bedding I gave you fall apart?” Zhù Ying asked.

Old Tian laughed. “I can’t be sleeping on something so fine here. I’ll use the old one. I’ll save the new set to use when I go home. And the old one will still be useful — I can put it in the livestock pen for when animals give birth.”

He had owned his own land, but it had always been a squeeze, so he saved wherever he could. Zhù Ying thought for a moment and said, “Use it here. I’ll give you another set when you leave. I don’t mistreat the people who work for me.”

Old Tian hesitated, then finally took out the new bedding and used it. He also asked for the salvaged old building materials to take home for repairs to his own house, and Zhù Ying agreed to that too.

The construction moved quickly. Zhù Ying came every day. In barely two days the old buildings were demolished; on the third day, they began putting up the rough temporary perimeter wall. Fu Long urged Zhù Ying to order the materials and bring in more unskilled laborers.

“Easy enough!” Zhù Ying said.

Materials were the simplest part of everything. She had previously rented one of Shao Shuxin’s warehouses outside the city to store firewood and charcoal for the Court of Judicial Review. With spring, the charcoal was used up and she renewed the lease; during the demolition she had already begun receiving bricks, stone, and timber, and now she simply needed to have them transported to the site as required.

Beyond that, she frequently visited the building site herself, picking up knowledge of construction from the craftsmen. Fu Long explained to her why materials needed to be sound: if the foundations were not laid solidly, the house would shift and tilt. And the wall bricks — old bricks and the like might look no different, but load-bearing walls built from them could easily collapse. Building an upper story meant the ground floor needed to be all the more solid; it was not a simple matter of stacking things higher.

Fu Long told her stories about pagoda construction gone wrong — accidents, because the base wasn’t properly made and the materials weren’t up to standard, and the structure collapsed halfway up, killing and injuring many workers. He also told stories about wall-building disasters, which without exception ended in collapse and more deaths.

And so on.

Zhù Ying watched them level the ground, snap chalk lines, and dig drainage channels, watching her house take shape little by little, and gradually she found herself growing fond of the place.

After a month, the shop properties she had arranged for the Court of Judicial Review were ready first, and she went to take delivery and collect the keys. The workers on that project were different from those building her house — she had intentionally kept them separate. She had organized three separate crews in total: one for her own house, one for renovating the Court’s rental properties, and one for a three-room property she had also arranged for her superior Zheng Xi.

Doing official business while quietly securing a benefit for one’s superior was a commonly understood unspoken practice. But she was more careful than most, preferring to earn less rather than blur the accounts. She kept strict separate records — official funds could not be used for personal projects.

She supervised everything herself, and Fu Long was attentive too, and by the fifth month the house had its doors and windows installed. Then came the plastering, lacquering, cleaning, and the delivery of furniture. Merchants approached her with offerings to “show their respect,” but not knowing her preferences and measurements, they asked Zhù Ying first — and Zhù Ying turned each one down.

She had the carpenter and the materials ready; there was no need for these things. She would have it made herself.

The Dragon Boat Festival was still spent in the rented house. As the new house took shape, Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da grew anxious in a new way — unsure whether they were looking forward to it or dreading it. On the day of the Dragon Boat Festival, Zhang Xiangu asked, “That house — is it done?”

Zhù Ying laughed and said, “Come with me.”

Zhang Xiangu said, “I’m not going!”

“But you’ll need to go eventually! The house is built, the family savings are spent, and there’s no money left to keep renting this place — are you really not going to move in?”

Zhang Xiangu sighed. “Fine. Do what you say.” Then she muttered that she shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to want a house of their own — otherwise it wouldn’t have come to this.

“It wasn’t just the two of you pushing for it,” Zhù Ying said. “It was everyone, and it happened to work out that way. There were places farther away that could have been even cheaper, but they were too inconvenient.”

Zhang Xiangu grumbled but relented, and the whole family was eventually bundled into a carriage by Zhù Ying and driven to the new house.

The moment she saw that tall, imposing residence, Zhang Xiangu’s anxiety fell away entirely. “Be careful,” Zhù Ying said. “The lacquer on the pillars isn’t dry yet.”

She knocked at the door knocker and Old Tian inside, who had not yet left and was still living in the gatehouse as caretaker, responded. “We’ve come to look around — is everything in order?” Old Tian said, “Everything’s fine. No intruders.”

Zhù Ying led the family through the house.

Zhang Xiangu’s first impression was simple: spacious!

The courtyard was very open, and even the rooms seemed wider and longer than those in the rented place. Four full percussion ensembles could hold a contest in here.

The gatehouse was also clean and tidy, with a bed set up and a small north-facing window opening into the courtyard for ventilation.

Huajie pointed at something in front of the study and asked, “What’s this? I thought the space was reserved for flowering trees, but…”

Where the space before the study had been left for a plum tree, Zhù Ying had installed a set of plum blossom training posts instead, while the front of the guest room had several stalks of bamboo planted.

Zhù Ying tucked up the hem of her robe, leapt onto the posts with a single bound, and said with satisfaction, “Not bad at all. I’ve been wanting to do this for ages! And look over there — I’ve set up a target dummy too. I can practice in the courtyard now.”

Zhang Xiangu discovered a wooden dummy standing to one side and said, “And what’s that for?”

“Elder Brother Jin also taught me two sets of boxing forms.”

Zhang Xiangu was dumbfounded, clutching Huajie’s arm. “What have I raised — what have I raised — a daughter who’s a…”

Zhù Da, however, was delighted. He gave the dummy a few kicks, then tried to leap onto the plum blossom posts himself. He hadn’t been able to manage it even in his youth, let alone now — he nearly crashed headlong into the posts before Zhù Ying caught him with one hand. “This side is the study — I don’t think any of you will want to look at that. Let’s go to the back.”

Zhù Da insisted on seeing the front courtyard’s main hall first. Zhù Ying pushed open the door to reveal three grand, spacious rooms with no fixed partition walls — instead, curtain hangings were draped from the pillars as dividers. This was the formal reception space for receiving important visitors; she would no longer need to see them in the western side room. Inside, the furniture was simple without being plain — a folding screen, a day-bed for sitting. Clean lines, unpretentious forms. Painted screens provided color and liveliness to the austere, ancient-feeling space.

“The rug hasn’t arrived yet,” Zhù Ying said.

“What do we need a rug for?” Zhang Xiangu said. “Just more cleaning!”

Zhù Da made a move toward the seat of honor; Zhang Xiangu yanked him back. “Don’t touch anything yet — didn’t you hear her say the lacquer isn’t dry? Go see the back first.”

The back section was even more pleasing. No plum blossom posts here, but there was a swing frame — in front of Huajie’s building. In the course of construction, a grape trellis had also been added on impulse — the vine not yet grown out, set before the western side rooms. In front of the main room were a sweet osmanthus tree and a plum tree, both still small. Zhù Da and Zhang Xiangu went first to see the western rooms, finding the furniture mostly moved in: the ground floor center was a sitting and receiving room, the south room a bedroom with a canopied bedframe with a surrounding screen, and a wardrobe, washbasin stand, and vanity table. The staircase was in the north room. Going up, the three upstairs rooms were simply partitioned, with a day-bed and cabinet. There was also space for a small storage area on the second floor.

“You can take the air up there in summer,” Zhù Ying said. “Or use it for storage.”

Huajie’s eastern rooms had a similar layout. Both rooms had long side tables — enough to place ancestral tablets.

The main rooms followed a similar arrangement as well, except Zhù Ying was not placing ancestral tablets.

They inspected the side courtyard. It had a street-facing entrance, and stepping outside put you on the road. Inside, beds, tables, and cabinets were all in place. Du Dajie, seeing that everything was new, asked in surprise, “What about our things back at the old place?”

“Yes!” Zhang Xiangu agreed. “And all those wooden boards!”

“We’ll bring them over and store them here,” Zhù Ying said. “There’ll be uses for everything eventually.”

The house felt spacious — almost cavernously so. The courtyard was open, the rooms felt open, and though the storeroom was ready, there was very little yet to fill it. Zhù Da went to look at the stable.

The stable was also empty.

The family left feeling both satisfied and not entirely satisfied. Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da never again raised the subject of who had died on this ground. With a house like this — everything fresh and new — what was there to complain about?

The only thing left was to choose an auspicious day for moving in.

——

Moving in required a housewarming. Friends and acquaintances had long since heard about Zhù Ying’s new property, and when word got out, everyone said, “About time.” So when Zhù Ying sent out invitations, they all said they would come and started deliberating over what gifts to bring. The standard housewarming gift was something for the kitchen or a decorative item, but Jin Daniangzi, Wen’s mother, and others felt that practical things would serve better. Those who were close had come to look around in advance and went back to coordinate, so as not to give duplicates.

Jin Liang wanted to bring a fine horse with saddle and bridle. Wen Yue said the lighting in Zhù Ying’s house was not ideal, so he would send a complete set. Gan Ze had long been concerned that Zhù Ying’s household was shorthanded with servants and suggested introducing his own cousin as someone to care for the horses. This cousin was no stranger — he was the son of Gan Ze’s maternal aunt. Recently the aunt and her husband had been getting on in years, and seeing that their livelihood was still a struggle, they had agreed to let their youngest son go out and work for someone.

This was not an indenture arrangement. With Gan Ze as guarantor, Zhù Ying offered a wage in line with the market rate, food and lodging provided, plus one set of clothing per season.

The Left Supervisory Official was on good terms with Zhù Ying, and so the colleagues clubbed together a shared contribution, adding a gift of a great many bowls, dishes, cups, and kitchen implements — quite a generous outlay.

Yang Sanlang had felt genuinely grateful to Zhù Ying ever since the incident, and when he mentioned it to his aunt, she too sent over a great many bed quilts and bed curtains. By Yang Shi’s standards, quilts piled up half a room — enough to keep Zhù Ying in new ones until she was eighty.

Shao Shuxin and others didn’t come in person, but Shao Shuxin was a practical man and sent gold as a gift. Zheng Qi and others also sent various decorative items.

Colleagues who pooled their contributions bought things like jade vases for the shelves.

What Zhù Ying still lacked was a cook. Her household’s requirements were somewhat different from those of an average official’s family. The cook didn’t need to be extraordinarily skilled, but mustn’t be extravagant. She couldn’t provide a cook with a vegetable-chopping girl and a fire-stoking girl — there was simply no way to staff a cook with a full complement of helpers. She didn’t need a master chef who could prepare dragon liver and phoenix marrow, nor someone who only used the hearts of vegetables and made endless fussy demands about ingredients.

Simple and homestyle was all she needed. If a proper dinner was ever required, she would order it from outside. Which led to the other thing: the cook couldn’t resent it when orders came from outside.

Someone like that — reasonably skilled, but dependable — was not easy to find on short notice. Fortunately, with not many mouths to feed for now, the family could manage on their own.

But friends still felt things were lacking, saying she needed at the very least a gatekeeper and a page boy — Old Tian was a tenant farmer after all, who had to go back to the fields during plowing season, and who would mind the gate then? They also suggested that Zhang Xiangu and Huajie each needed a personal maid for dressing and attendance. This made Du Dajie deeply anxious, fearing she was about to be turned out.

Zhù Ying just said, “We’ll take it slowly.” Right now anyone she brought in had to be trustworthy first.

She also personally delivered invitations to the Zheng household and the Jing Prefecture. Zheng Xi, as was his custom, would not attend, but he sent a housewarming gift all the same — a pair of bronze incense burners in the shape of mountain crags, along with incense. When Zhù Ying received it, she suddenly realized she had genuinely never thought about needing something like that!

At the Jing Prefecture, Wang Yunhe was also occupied, but he did not refuse to see her. He asked, “Have you given the study a name?”

“What?” She hadn’t even picked her own courtesy name yet — what would a study need a name for?

“You ought to give it a name,” Wang Yunhe said. “In the future, whether you take a courtesy name, a literary name, or a secondary name, this will be useful for all of them.”

Zhù Ying took the hint shamelessly. “Then won’t you give it a name for me?”

Wang Yunhe had said as much precisely because he had a name in mind, so he pulled over a sheet of paper and wrote two characters: “Rizhi” — “Daily Learning.”

“I love it!” Zhù Ying said. “I’ll have this made into a plaque and hang it above the study door!” And while she was at it, she would have a maxim carved into stone: “Each day learn what you did not know; each month, do not forget what you have learned.”

Wang Yunhe gave a restrained smile.

Zhù Ying went back, found someone to make a plaque and hang it above the study doorway, then went out to find a stonecutter’s shop in the market. She picked out a stone piece with a stand, had the craftsman carve the maxim, filled the incised characters with vermilion, and waited right there to collect it.

Then home to move in. By the time she had finished with this house, the ready money in her hands was nearly gone — the jewelry and clothing she still needed to keep using and couldn’t sell. This time it took several large trunks to move all her daily essentials. Old Tian helped carry the trunks to each person’s room, and everyone sorted out their own things. Du Dajie, quite naturally, didn’t put her own things away first — she went to help Zhang Xiangu.

Zhang Xiangu sent her to help Huajie instead.

Zhù Ying did her own work: her toiletry case and hair ornaments and accessories went on the vanity table; clothing and shoes went in the wardrobe. She took out a small bundle and opened it — inside was a sheepskin robe, now too small for her. She carefully took it out to air. Then it was time to bring her books and stationery to the study.

She had far more books now than she’d had before, but still not nearly enough to fill the study — the upper floor was all bookshelves, and they were all empty. After setting the fish tank in its place, she thought: I must fill this study up!

——

That evening the family didn’t cook, ordering food brought in from outside instead. Old Tian didn’t join them at the table, and Du Dajie didn’t either — the family of four ate in the rear courtyard. This was their habit: on days that weren’t too cold, evening meals were taken out of doors.

The next day was the housewarming banquet.

Zhù Ying had ordered a full dinner spread in advance, most of it set up in the front courtyard. She had a good number of friends and the Court of Judicial Review turned out in force; she had ordered twenty tables of food. The sixth-month weather was not cold and they’d dispensed with any tent covering — with such a large courtyard, it all fit. The front courtyard was for friends and colleagues; the rear courtyard was for the female guests, attended by Zhang Xiangu and Huajie.

Distinguished figures like Zheng Xi didn’t come, though their gifts had arrived.

Acquaintances from the Jing Prefecture came as well. The coroner Yang was invited, and he and his son, along with his good friend the Head Jailer, Head Constable Zhang, and others sat at one table. He suddenly pointed at the study plaque and said, “That’s the hand of Prefect Wang!”

Everyone agreed that Zhù Ying had gotten the better end of this deal.

His son asked, “Why didn’t Prefect Wang come?”

The coroner Yang thought: what kind of man is Prefect Wang to come all the way here? He found another reason: “Prefect Wang is busy catching people.”

“Catching who?”

“You know about Eunuch Luo’s child? Before, when the child was snatched by traffickers, the Prefect had the man come and collect the reward, but had people follow him. Guess what? That buyer went back to the peddler to buy another child, and the peddler snatched a child to sell — and Prefect Wang caught him in the very act! They’re currently following the trail to find his accomplices.”

Everyone said the Prefect Wang was truly remarkable!

Zhù Ying, overhearing, came over too. “So there really was something wrong with him?”

“You saw it too, did you, Sanlang?” the coroner Yang asked.

Zhù Ying laughed and said nothing. Well, of course — a peddler had all sorts of potential.

Zhù Da had been surrounded by people filling his cup and was feeling light-headed. Then suddenly his gaze fell on Old Tian sitting in a corner — he too had been asked to stay for the housewarming feast before going home. No one here knew Old Tian, and though Old Tian ate and drank, he looked rather lonely. For some reason, Zhù Da felt a sudden pang of something — a sort of quiet sadness — and took his wine jug over to sit down beside Old Tian. Old Tian jumped up at once: “Old man!”

Zhù Da said, “Here, let’s share a cup. You’ve worked hard…”

Zhù Ying was led over by Gan Ze, who was bringing his cousin Cao Chang to offer… tea. “Your brother I can rely on,” Zhù Ying said. “Tonight, go get settled, and see what the room is still missing.” Gan Ze said, “I already looked — nothing’s missing.” Zhù Ying had never really played the role of mistress of the house before and hadn’t learned to be stingy with servants. The servant quarters’ furniture was plain but not poor, all freshly made with solid materials, and the bedding was clean — better than what Cao Chang had brought with him.

Gan Ze said to Cao Chang, “Go look in on the horses later. Get up early tomorrow, don’t sleep too soundly — stay alert…”

“Stop saying this in front of me,” Zhù Ying said. “Tomorrow I still have to report for duty, and you’re accompanying the senior official to court — you’ll both be out early tomorrow morning and can see each other then. Save what you have to say for tomorrow, out of my hearing.”

“You and your sharp tongue,” Gan Ze said. He sent Cao Chang off to keep Zhù Da and Old Tian company, then said to Zhù Ying, “I used to find it odd that you never wanted servants, and I thought it was just a quirk of yours. Now I see it really is a quirk — you actually waited until you had a proper house ready before taking on servants.”

“What’s odd about that?” Zhù Ying asked.

Lu Chao came over with a wine jug, speaking quietly, “Servants don’t need a house.” Coming from a minor official of Zhù Ying’s rank who actually prepared quarters like this for servants, they were all rather surprised. Looking over at Zhù Da squatting down chatting with Old Tian, one could only say the Zhù family were all of a genuine kind.

Because of the genuine kindness, they pulled Zhù Ying aside and said, “You’d better be ready — Sanlang is going to take a wife. Keep it quiet, not a word to anyone.”

Zhù Ying asked in surprise, “What?”

“Sanlang’s wife passed so long ago, and there needs to be someone to manage the household.”

Lu Chao said quietly, “The match was identified two years ago, but the bride’s family had a period of mourning — her father passed away. Three years of mourning means they had to wait. Sanlang hasn’t looked elsewhere either. And over these years, the old Lady of the Commandery has gradually found herself less able to manage; and there’s also our little Young Mistress, who is growing up and needs an older woman to guide her…”

So Zheng Xi was going to take a wife — that immediately made Zhù Ying anxious!

She had already prepared the wedding gift well in advance — those several shops, and she had been looking for the right moment to present them to Zheng Xi. And now the moment had arrived!

What made her anxious was the choice of bride.

Now she finally understood why the great ministers in historical records were always involving themselves in the Emperor’s marriages! What did it mean that the Son of Heaven had no private life? Simply put — a staff member needed to know what the inner manager was like, and whether that person might cost them their position!

Though the likelihood of Zheng Xi having poor taste was not high, what if the new wife turned out to be a woman like Madam Feng? Then it would be over! She’d better start making contingency plans to jump ship now! Imagining herself as one of the subordinates under the previous Vice Minister Feng — what would it take to keep your position through Madam Feng? One might as well go it alone! Why toil like a dog and horse in service to Madam Feng?

She asked, “Who is this person? To have kept Zheng Xi waiting through a father’s death.”

Gan Ze said quietly, “The bride’s surname is Yue. You might not recognize her father’s name, but her father and old Liu Songnian studied under the same teacher, and her grandfather was Liu Songnian’s own mentor.”

“Well! I never would have guessed from looking at him!”

“Indeed. The gift better be ready.”

“I’m not exactly good at choosing refined things…” Zhù Ying said.

Lu Chao said, “You’re usually so sharp — how can you be so slow here? What matters is sincerity — make Sanlang happy. As for the new mistress, you’ll see what she’s like once she’s here!”

So everyone was playing the same game!

“Understood,” Zhù Ying said. Inwardly she was cursing: dammit — now I’ll have to pick a gift for the whole Court of Judicial Review as well!

By now the sky had grown dark. Du Dajie was busy lighting candles, and the maids brought along by Wen’s mother and others pitched in too. Before long the lanterns were up, the drinking continued, and no one dared push Zhù Ying to drink. Word of her drinking habits had quickly made the rounds.

They laughed at Zhù Ying, and Zhù Ying laughed along without minding, then went over to the table with the female constables. “Don’t let them pressure you into drinking.”

Madam Wu smiled. “They wouldn’t dare do that in front of you.”

“Not behind my back either,” Zhù Ying said, turning to cast a glance at the others.

“Wouldn’t dare,” they all said.

The female constables were not seated in the rear courtyard — they were all in the front courtyard at their own table, which felt quite novel. Especially Wu Xiang and Madam Wu: Wu Xiang’s mother was in the rear courtyard, while Madam Wu’s husband and father were in the front courtyard — a peculiar sensation, difficult to put into words.

“No one is to drink until intoxicated outdoors,” Zhù Ying said. “When the time comes, I’ll arrange carriages to take you all home.”

Wu Xiang quickly said, “No need for me — my mother and I came in the same carriage.” Cui Jiacheng also had her own carriage. Madam Wu had come together with her father and husband. Huo Er Niang and Xu Daniangzi had come with husbands, Zhou Wan and Gan Xiaoniangzi with fathers. Only Fu Xiaoniangzi and Che Xiaoniangzi had no one very reliable to depend on. Fu Xiaoniangzi had not particularly wanted to come but couldn’t refuse out of social obligation, and besides, she owed too many favors to Huajie and Zhù Ying; she had come reluctantly. With everyone else covered, those two couldn’t very well refuse.

“No need to push back,” Zhù Ying said. “Even if you have someone with you, riding in a carriage home is no trouble.”

With so many people, they could not all risk breaking curfew together, so not long after the lanterns went up, the gathering broke up in haste. The dinner service they had ordered came fully equipped with tables and chairs and serving staff — once the guests dispersed, they packed up everything they had brought, including the refuse, cleared it all away cleanly, and left. A calling card was left behind with a request: “Please continue to favor us with your business.”

“Certainly,” Zhù Ying said.

After seeing the guests off, this evening was unlike any other. Zhù Ying personally walked the full circuit of all four gates: the main gate barred and propped, tended by Old Tian; the smaller gate shut and locked, watched by Cao Chang. The side gate facing the street was directly locked. For tonight, Zhù Ying would sleep in the study in the front courtyard — the bed on the second floor of the study was quite comfortable. She vaulted up the plum blossom posts to the second-floor corridor, climbed in through the window, lowered the gauze window, lit a stick of mugwort to drive off mosquitoes, and went to sleep.