Zhù Ying had by now developed the ability to tell good tea from inferior, and Zheng Xi’s tea was excellent. Both were in fine spirits. Zhù Ying had no objection to Zheng Xi joining the Council of State, and Zheng Xi was in high spirits for conversation — she was patient enough to keep him company, listening to him speak of his thoughts on court governance.
Zheng Xi moved from the Capital Prefecture to the Emperor himself, then said: “His Majesty is always impatient. Shi has no desire for change; Wang is inclined toward change; His Majesty makes reckless changes. It is fortunate that the Crown Prince has at last settled.”
Zhù Ying said: “Stillness breeds a longing for movement. His Majesty kept quiet for several decades, and the realm has kept quiet for several decades as well. Chief Minister Shi will likely be stepping down.”
Zheng Xi smiled: “Chief Minister Wang has been in the Council of State for twenty years as well — he, too, has been quiet for quite some time!”
Zhù Ying said: “He moves with the times.”
“What he is doing now, no one can find fault with. But his ambitions will not be confined to those few localities. Once things are set in full motion, I fear that in still times he will be remembered as a great minister of his generation, but in turbulent times, he will be condemned by all under Heaven.”
Zhù Ying said: “One cannot have both the fish and the bear’s paw — a person chooses their own path. As long as he does not go too far, the problem will not be great.”
Zheng Xi laughed with evident delight.
The two of them drank their tea by moonlight until it was finished. Zheng Xi said: “Let me write you one more note then — once I leave the Capital Prefecture, writing you such notes will no longer be as easy.”
Zhù Ying said: “You will still be able to issue them in the future.”
Zheng Xi said playfully: “You get along well with both the Capital Prefecture and the Council of State — is it all for the sake of these notes?”
Zhù Ying also smiled and said: “Well, that is indeed part of it.”
Zheng Xi finished writing the note and did not go on to ask Zhù Ying’s opinion of a candidate for the new Capital Prefect; Zhù Ying likewise raised the matter no further. This was not a question she needed to concern herself with for now — even Zheng Xi might not be able to decide it himself. At this point she also had no need to prop up a candidate for the position, and as for Zheng Xi’s intimation that he hoped she would succeed him, that was even more remote from possibility. Whether in terms of age or seniority, she was still a considerable distance from that post.
Zheng Xi finished writing the note; Zhù Ying took it, blew on it, and said: “Then I shall look forward to the celebratory banquet at your residence.”
Zheng Xi said: “Come whenever you like.”
Zhù Ying carried the note home. Along the way she was unusually stopped by someone conducting an inspection. She displayed the note; a servant raised the lantern to illuminate it. By the light of the flame, the inspector made out who she was. He glanced at the note — not scrutinizing it closely — and said: “Why, it is Counselor Zhù! The road is dark; please mind your step.”
Zhù Ying said: “You are working hard.”
“The weather is still hot, and one cannot sleep soundly at home — it is better to come out and catch the breeze.”
They exchanged a few more words. Nearby, a dog began barking from one of the residential lanes; the inspector clasped his hands in salute and strode off quickly to investigate. Zhù Ying made her way smoothly back home.
She placed the note into a small chest — a chest already full to the brim with the papers she had accumulated since the time she had first gone to Wang Yunhe to ask for a note, and now another had been added.
She closed the lid. Zhù Ying turned the situation before her over in her mind, and let out a soft sigh.
……
News of Zheng Xi’s appointment to Chief Minister leaked out a few days later. The announcement was not altogether surprising.
The Zheng Marquis household was naturally overjoyed, and friends and relatives celebrated together. But the single most pleased person of all, apart from them, was Shi Kun. At the sight of Zheng Xi’s arrival, Shi Kun beamed until the smile lines on his face were stacked in layers. Now that Zheng Xi was joining the Council, he could retire! He had only to wait for Zheng Xi to enter the Council of State, and then he would submit his memorial!
With this thought in mind, Zheng Xi grew more and more pleasant to look at. Shi Kun made a special point of going to the white-robed bodhisattva statue his wife kept in their home and respectfully lighting three sticks of incense. He reverently murmured, “Merciful deliverer from suffering!” and made a vow: “Let there be no further complications — grant me a smooth and peaceful retirement!”
After the downfall of the Duan Family and Zheng Xi’s appointment to Chief Minister, there was, besides Shi Kun, one other person in the capital who was in a tremendous state of agitation.
Meng Hong, as the chief eunuch of the Wei Wang household, learned of the news quickly. He paced about anxiously, unconsciously biting his right thumb.
He had thought the matter through before the Wei Wang returned to the residence.
When the front gate announced, “His Highness has returned to the residence,” Meng Hong straightened his clothing and walked quickly to meet him.
Bowing to escort the Wei Wang into the residence, Meng Hong studied the Wei Wang’s expression — it was not good. Ever since the Zhao Wang had been established as Crown Prince, the Wei Wang’s expression had always carried a faint undercurrent. After the Lu Wang’s downfall, a touch of suppressed gloom and apprehension had been added. Today, a faint shadow of grey lay across it as well.
Meng Hong followed the Wei Wang to the inner chamber and waited on him as he changed. He gently removed the cap from the Wei Wang’s head; a young eunuch came forward bearing a moistened towel. The Wei Wang took it and buried his face in it.
Meng Hong waved a hand at the eunuchs and maidservants. They exchanged glances with one another, then glided out on the lightest of footsteps. The Wei Wang lowered the towel from his face and found the room had cleared; only Meng Hong remained before him.
Meng Hong bowed with deep humility, both hands receiving the towel the Wei Wang had used, and said in a low voice: “Your Highness, I heard some rumors today.”
“Oh?!”
Meng Hong said: “There is talk everywhere that the Zheng Capital Prefect is to be appointed Chief Minister.”
The Wei Wang said: “Even you have heard?”
“It seems the news is reliable then?” Without waiting for the Wei Wang to respond, Meng Hong followed this with another sentence — one that dissolved the Wei Wang’s vexation at once. He said: “Opportunity is fleeting, Your Highness — you must act quickly.”
The Wei Wang raised an eyebrow: “You, fellow — the organ below has been removed, and yet the ambitions above remain?”
Meng Hong was a shrewd eunuch. During the contest among the princes, the Wei Wang had also put him to use for certain matters. Whatever the results may have been, in the end it was the Zhao Wang who had benefited from being the eldest. The Zhao Wang was mediocre, and the Wei Wang was not reconciled to that outcome.
Meng Hong said: “What ambitions could this servant ever have? What I have is nothing more than loyalty to you. The present moment is precisely your opportunity, Your Highness. In your estimation — is the current Emperor a wise ruler?”
The Wei Wang let out a scornful laugh.
Meng Hong answered himself: “A mediocre ruler, nothing more. At present, he is unable to command his ministers from without, while the princes are feeble and of little use from within; yet he harbors a heart set on exercising supreme personal authority. The court ministers do not obey him with much willingness — whether it was the enfeoffment of the princes or the favoring of the imperial relatives, every initiative was pushed back. At present there are several factions at court: the previous Emperor’s faction, the imperial relatives, the aristocratic families, and the scholarly establishment. How many of these listen to him? The previous Emperor could not see — yet ministers still came to blows before him. The current Emperor’s eyes are wide open, yet he is effectively no different from the previous Emperor in his blindness. When the previous Emperor was blind, the ministers were not yet this brazen.”
“Go on,” said the Wei Wang, now fully absorbed.
“He needs someone to be his right arm, and he is reaching out in all directions. First he placed Mu Chengzhou in the Ministry of Personnel as a Vice Minister — that is the imperial relatives’ side. Then he sent Shi Xi to serve as Shi Kun’s assistant — that is the beginning of cultivating the Prince Consort; Shi Xi’s background is favorable, as the Shi Family were loyal servants of the previous Emperor. He therefore hopes to use his own son-in-law to draw in and lead this faction for his own use. But these two are still fledglings — they cannot be of any use in the short term. The scholarly faction consists of the two Chief Ministers Wang and Liu; Chief Minister Liu has retired, and Chief Minister Wang is habitually upright — he will not let the Emperor act as he pleases either. He needs people!”
“And so?”
“This is your opportunity!” Meng Hong’s voice intensified. “Since time immemorial, apart from the First Emperor of Qin, no ruler has ever been seen to not employ imperial relatives! After all, one family — blood ties that bind. When the Emperor hits a wall outside, he will think of his own kin. Even knowing he must guard against the imperial family.”
The Wei Wang nodded: “You are right. We brothers have been fearful these past days, dreading that he might settle old scores. Yet he himself is not having an easy time either — he also needs his brothers. Hmph — guarding against his brothers, forced to rely on outsiders, and then getting the worse of it from those outsiders. What an absurd figure this man cuts!”
Meng Hong’s tone shifted: “But the situation has changed! He has made use of the Zheng Capital Prefect, and whether the appointment is genuine or a pretense, even this rumor alone works against you. The Zheng Capital Prefect is a capable man — if he were truly to assist the current Emperor, things would become rather difficult to manage. I urge you to make your move before the imperial decree is issued, and first express to His Majesty your willingness to assist him in standing against the ministers! Wait any longer, and once the Emperor has Zheng, whatever he offers you will be discounted.”
The Wei Wang said: “He has already set his mind on Zheng Xi — in his heart he has already given me a discounted share. But — will Zheng Xi truly bow his head completely to him?”
Meng Hong said: “Zheng Xi is a man of deep reserve — whether from genuine loyalty or calculated maneuvering, he knows how to conduct himself. If you first go to His Majesty and openly express your sincerity, then no matter what Zheng Xi does afterward, what His Majesty sees from you will still be different. Does Your Highness wish to remain idle and at leisure indefinitely? Are you content with that? To say nothing of the Crown Prince — even the Emperor’s other sons are growing up quickly. Each generation presses the one before it toward old age! Your Highness, time waits for no one.”
The Wei Wang said: “Exactly right!”
He did not ask Meng Hong what to do next, for he had already made up his mind. He went to his study and personally drafted a memorial — petitioning for the enfeoffment and the establishment of individual households for the imperial princes. He gave three reasons: first, the Crown Prince’s Household Administration was now more or less fully staffed; second, he had just seen outside that many officials were waiting for vacant positions, and establishing households would create room to place a number of them; third, a new court calls for a new air — the Crown Prince would benefit from the support of his brothers.
……
This memorial was very much to the Emperor’s liking, yet it displeased several people.
The first was the Crown Prince, who instinctively had no wish to see his younger brothers rise too quickly.
The second was Zheng Xi. His appointment decree had not yet been issued, and this petition for the enfeoffment of the princes was something he himself had originally intended to do. His plan had been to first persuade the Crown Prince to submit the petition, and then add his own endorsement. Furthermore, the second point the Wei Wang had raised was also a problem he had been planning to address.
After prolonged peace, the forty years of tranquility had seen the ranks of court officials and noble families multiply into a vast number of descendants — official posts were in somewhat short supply. Even those with the right lineage might find it difficult to secure substantive positions.
And now the Wei Wang had cut in line!
Zheng Xi listened impassively as the Wei Wang submitted this memorial, yet said nothing in opposition — it was not the moment to oppose it. Shi Kun had no desire to involve himself in this matter any further, and now that the Crown Prince’s household had been arranged, blocking it again would serve no purpose. Only Wang Yunhe offered one remark: “Establishing a household requires the labor of the people; it would be fitting to wait until after the autumn harvest.”
The Emperor treated this as if no one had objected at all, and said with great haste: “Approved! Then after the autumn harvest — let the Bureau of Heavenly Records select an auspicious day. What say the ministers?”
Zhù Ying quietly counted the five or six officials who had been the first to step forward and offer support, thinking to herself: the Wei Wang’s faction — not bad, is it?
Xian Jing stepped out first to give his endorsement; Zheng Xi, Zhù Ying, and others followed. The Crown Prince also spoke without urgency: “Second Brother is growing up — it is no longer seemly for him to remain in the palace.”
And so the matter was settled, along with the related questions of the princes’ fiefs, attendant officials, and so on.
The Emperor was in good spirits and kept both the Wei Wang and the Crown Prince behind for a conversation.
The court ministers dispersed in twos and threes to their respective offices.
The Emperor was in an affable mood, speaking to the Wei Wang like an old friend: “We brothers have not been able to sit together and talk freely for such a long time.”
The Wei Wang was the picture of respectful deference: “His Majesty attends to ten thousand affairs each day — your younger brother, though heartsick on your behalf, has never dared to intrude. But at last I simply could not bear to watch any longer. The ministers have been presuming rather too much on their seniority and not heeding commands.”
The Emperor agreed: “Indeed — most of them have their own ideas, and few think about what is best for me.”
The two men fell into easy conversation. The Wei Wang, seeing the Crown Prince nearby, took care not to give the Heir Apparent any cause for offense. He said instead: “There is one more matter — now that Second Brother is establishing his household, he ought also to take a worthy bride to manage the inner affairs.”
The Emperor said: “Quite right. We might as well have the household establishment and the marriage handled at the same time, and I can rest easy knowing he is taken care of on the outside. The princess consort should be chosen a few years older than him, someone who can look after his daily needs.”
The Wei Wang said: “Now that Second Brother will have someone to care for him, do not forget the Crown Prince as well.”
The Emperor said: “He already has a Crown Princess.”
“Little A’Yi is too young,” said the Wei Wang. “How can she bear the responsibility of continuing the imperial line? The Eastern Palace needs sons. Now that the reign title has been changed, would it not be well to select one or two worthy young women to keep the Crown Prince company?”
The Crown Prince still harbored wariness toward this uncle of his and said: “I would not dare.”
Yet the Emperor had sunk into thought. His brother was right — he too wanted to hold a grandchild in his arms. He said to the Crown Prince: “Your uncle has a point. It will not do to have only palace maids in your quarters.”
Finding that the mere thought of handling so many matters at once brought back his old habits, the Emperor deflected with a laugh toward his son and brother: “Let me think on it a little more.” And with that he sent them both away, going to find the Empress.
Empress Mu had already heard the news from the front court. Though the second son was not her own child by birth, he still called her mother. She managed the affairs of the Zhao Wang household, and she and this secondary son were on reasonably close terms. He was more or less of age; moving him out to his own establishment was perfectly natural.
Were she still the Zhao Wang Consort, she might have thought the child, turning fifteen the next year, was still young, and that there was no harm in waiting two more years before discussing marriage. Now that she was Empress, that consideration of age was no longer so weighty.
Keeping an imperial secondary son in the palace all the time, in too close proximity to the Emperor, was not a good thing. And the Emperor had long wanted to formally ennoble his son — insisting on blocking it served no purpose. It was right and proper that an imperial son receive a princely title; it was bound to happen sooner or later. With the Crown Prince’s household also in order, there was no reason not to proceed.
Thus when the Emperor came to find her, Empress Mu said: “That is a fine thing! I may not know everything involved, but his princess consort should be a few years older than him — someone capable of looking after his daily needs.”
Husband and wife had arrived at the same conclusion. The Emperor said: “That was my thought as well. With our First Born back then…”
Empress Mu said: “With First Born, the late Emperor made the decision — family married to family, which was also a good thing. But A’Yi is frail; she should have someone to help shoulder the burden and assist her.”
“The Wei Wang said the same.”
“He did?” Empress Mu was slightly guarded.
“He is different from the treasonous Lu Wang. The things he said today all made good sense.”
Empress Mu said: “He wasn’t trying to play matchmaker for anyone, was he?”
“No.”
Empress Mu said: “Then I will call Zhang Jieyu over presently and have her carefully think through who would suit Second Son. But — this matter must not be spoken of openly just yet. The anniversary of the late Emperor’s passing has not come around yet!”
The Emperor, conducting mourning by substituting days for months, did not need to observe three full years of mourning, yet it was still not proper to arrange a daughter-in-law for his son before the first anniversary had passed.
“You think of everything!”
“Very well, then — that is settled. I will make the selections quietly; do not breathe a word of it outside. Even a commoner family needs considerable time to prepare for a marriage — we will prepare in secret, and issue the decree once the anniversary has passed. After the New Year, proceed with the arrangements. Both First Born and Second Son — handle it this way for both.”
“Very good~”
……—
Empress Mu had said to keep it secret, and she truly did not let it spread. Outside, one could occasionally catch a faint breath of rumor, yet nothing with a definite shape.
But the matter of Zheng Xi’s appointment to Chief Minister was formally confirmed.
The Zheng household was all celebration. Their married-out daughter Zheng Lin also returned to her parents’ home to help, and Zheng Yi simply moved in. Jin Liang, Wen Yue, and others came as well. Zhù Ying, for her part, was no longer well-suited to visit at this juncture — she was still at the Court of Judicial Review, striking blows on Wang Yunhe’s behalf through less-than-straightforward means. But she sent Su Zhe, Lin Feng, and Zhù Lian over in her stead. The three of them had nothing particular to do at the Zheng household — Su Zhe managed to engage the Commandery Princess in a pleasant conversation; Lin Feng and Zhù Lian spent half a day fishing with Zheng Marquis.
In the eighth month, on an auspicious day, Zheng Xi formally became a Chief Minister, and the Council of State had three members once again. Zheng Xi, as a newcomer, was naturally not comparable to the other two. Both of the others had established their own households; he had not.
In the presence of these two men, Zheng Xi was obliged to conduct himself with the courtesy due to a nephew before elders.
Shi Kun said: “We are all fellow servants of the court — that is not fitting here. Outside this chamber, we can revert to family seniority.”
Wang Yunhe also said: “He is absolutely right! Look at all this paperwork — now that you have arrived, hurry and help us deal with it!”
Shi Kun said: “Exactly!”
Barely suppressing himself for a few more days, he seized the right moment and at last submitted his own memorial requesting retirement!
The Emperor’s feeling for Shi Kun was not as deep as his feeling for Liu Songnian. He considered that Shi Kun had served in the Council of State for twenty years as well — keeping him longer, with his far-reaching influence, would only make it harder for the Emperor to establish his authority. He bore no ill will toward Shi Kun and made a show of urging him to stay.
Shi Kun submitted another memorial, saying he had already served for twenty years, had seen off the previous Emperor, and now that the Emperor’s own sons were all establishing their households, it was time for him to go home and, as he put it, “enjoy his grandchildren.”
This nonsense was too much for Leng Yun, who let out an involuntary snort of laughter. Old Shi’s younger son Shi Ji-xing was already over forty, his eldest son was older than Leng Yun, and his eldest grandson had been in office for several years! Well — this “grandchild” could also refer to Shi Ji-xing’s seven-year-old son, or even a great-grandchild!
The court’s Chief of Imperial Clan Affairs, standing beside him, could not hold back and kicked Leng Yun. Leng Yun straightened up and stood properly.
Three rounds of this, and the Emperor at last approved Shi Kun’s retirement.
The weight that had been suspended in Shi Kun’s chest finally settled back into place; he wept with joy as he bade the Emperor farewell. The Emperor offered him treatment comparable to Liu Songnian’s.
Shi Kun, though touched with a hint of wistfulness, nonetheless packed up his belongings from the Council of State at lightning speed and vanished home in a plume of smoke.
He could at last retire!
It was not that he did not cherish the power of the Chief Ministership — the wretched post had simply been incompatible with his nature from the start, unable to let him pass his days in comfortable ease.
Zhù Ying gave Shi Ji-xing three days’ leave: “Chief Minister Shi has retired and there will surely be various affairs to settle; your elder brother is not in the capital, so go home and lend a hand.”
Shi Ji-xing began to demur, but Zhù Ying said: “Follow my word on this.”
Shi Ji-xing accordingly complied.
Upon arriving home, he was promptly scolded by Shi Kun: “Why have you come back?”
“The Court of Judicial Review gave me leave.”
Shi Kun fell into his habitual mode of lecturing his son: “Even so, you must not treat such a matter as routine. I have read my way through the histories, and I have yet to come across a dynasty that could sustain peace for several decades on end — something must always occur. The previous Emperor’s reign was relatively stable, yet it has already been forty years! You must be on guard in court…”
He went on at some length, then suddenly broke into a rueful laugh, remembering he was no longer Chief Minister. With a slightly deflated air he said: “All right, go along.”
Shi Ji-xing could not fathom how a man who had voluntarily petitioned to retire could feel deflated. He scratched his head in bewilderment and backed away, then took a few steps back again: “Father, will you…return to the hometown?”
Shi Kun said: “I will not! Did Liu Songnian go off traveling the realm again?”
“Ah?”
Shi Kun murmured under his breath: “Am I unworthy of burial alongside the Imperial Mausoleum?”
Shi Ji-xing thought to himself: But you need not stay in the capital on that account — did not the late Chief Minister Chen also die at home and get brought back? But he dared not speak this aloud. He quietly slipped away, thinking only that since his father still harbored such a wish, he would likely never settle his mind; probably he ought to come home each evening and give his father a report on what had happened at court that day.
By the second day, Shi Ji-xing was already beginning to miss the Court of Judicial Review, because his father’s emotions were in an unstable state. On the second morning, Shi Kun awoke as usual at his habitual hour, then — remembering he no longer needed to attend court — roused his son: “Are you not going to court?”
“I have leave!”
“Oh! Then there is no need for you to be here — go back!”
……
Shi Ji-xing endured until the third day, then rose early and hurried off to court.
At the gate of the imperial city, Zhù Ying spotted him and asked: “Why are you back? Did something happen?”
Shi Ji-xing rolled up his sleeve to show her: “Look — I was driven back! He said there cannot be two people in one household both sleeping late.”
Those nearby who heard burst into laughter; Leng Yun laughed the loudest. Li Yan-qing remarked with sincere admiration: “Chief Minister Shi truly has nothing but the nation’s welfare at heart!”
Such a naive remark drained even Leng Yun of the energy to roll his eyes at him. Zhù Ying simply thought the Court of State Ceremonial was a deeply entertaining place: Leng Yun keeping Sheng Ying under his thumb, and Li Yan-qing forever outwitting Leng Yun — Leng Yun fuming on one end, Li Yan-qing breezing along on the other entirely unaffected.
Leng Yun grabbed the passing Yao Zhen by the arm: “Don’t go yet — come have a chat!”
Yao Zhen’s brow carried a deep crease: “Chat about what~”
“You tell me — the Imperial Stables Directorate has opened up too. Who do you think it’ll be?”
Yao Zhen was through-and-through a man of the previous Emperor’s faction, and at the moment was in no mood to be cheerful. Furthermore, with the matter of establishing households for the imperial princes, the appointment of advisors and attendants was the Emperor’s prerogative, but the subordinate positions still required him to work out. For days now, officials seeking appointments had been calling in a steady stream — who to give them to, and who not? Whom did the Emperor favor, and whom did he not? The worry had caused several new white hairs to sprout on Yao Zhen’s head.
Hearing the question about the Imperial Stables Directorate, Yao Zhen finally let the worry ease somewhat: “The Nine Ministers and their positions are for His Majesty to determine — that is beyond my purview.”
Leng Yun went on to ask others, when unexpectedly a voice from behind — one lodged deep in memory — materialized: “Do you want to go to the Imperial Stables Directorate?”
“Sure~” Leng Yun answered out of habit, then felt something was off! The scene felt familiar.
Others had already turned and were bowing in salutation to the figure behind him: “Chief Minister Zheng.”
Leng Yun leapt sideways: “Why are you still like this? You were the same way when we were young!”
Zheng Xi said: “Time to go.” And strode forward first.
Leng Yun turned to Zhù Ying: “He came over to startle me, just to say that one sentence? Was it deliberate?”
Zhù Ying shook her head with a smile too. Zheng Xi and Leng Yun’s interactions were invariably a source of amusement.
But very soon, those who had just been joking were no longer able to laugh.
At the morning court session, some of the government affairs the Emperor handled had been raised in advance by memorial, for which the Emperor had already formed a plan. On this day, he raised two specific matters —
The first was perfectly normal: ennobling his second son as the Qi Wang.
The second was assigning oversight of the Imperial Stables Directorate to the Wei Wang.
The current dynasty had no precedent of imperial sons being barred from participation in government. On the contrary, once princes, imperial sons, and imperial clansmen reached a certain age, they were expected to take part in governance. Some would simply attend court and participate in deliberations — mostly listening — while others held specific official posts. However, imperial sons generally did not go out to take up posts away from the capital. Imperial clansmen, by contrast, could go out to the regions.
For example, the Crown Prince, while still a Commandery Prince, had nominally held the post of Prefect of Wuzhou.
The Wei Wang stepped forward and accepted this assignment.
Everyone was waiting to see what action the Wei Wang would take, yet he made no moves whatsoever — not even touching the staff of the Imperial Stables Directorate left behind by Chen Meng. He first went to the Chen household, ostensibly to seek guidance from Chen Meng, and spent the better part of a day there. After that, he continued calling at the Chen household at intervals for roughly half a month, by which time he had become quite familiar with the household, though his visits tapered off toward the end of the eighth month.
As the ninth month arrived, the fields had turned to gold. Within the capital, faint rumors began to circulate — it seemed Empress Mu was in the process of selecting a worthy bride for the Qi Wang.
Upon hearing this, Zhù Ying felt the matter had nothing to do with her; she found the quilt before her more interesting than any Qi Wang Consort.
Zhù Qingjun had returned!
She had set out in the fifth month and returned in the ninth — rushing when she left, but taking a somewhat slower pace on the way back. She had spent another month or more turning around Wuzhou. Not only had she surveyed the general conditions of the private estate, the outer five counties, and the inner three counties, but she had also brought back many things that had been prepared at home for Zhù Ying.
Although Zhù Ying had written saying there was no need to send money or grain, Zhang Xiangu had still prepared many daily necessities. Zhang Xiangu had pieced together over a hundred fragments of fabric in various colors to make a patchwork quilt cover, lined it with fine cloth woven on the private estate’s own looms, and made a quilt for Zhù Qingjun to bring to Zhù Ying.
Zhù Ying set aside the letters and other items Zhù Qingjun had brought for the moment, touching and stroking the quilt repeatedly, and murmured softly: “May you be free from illness and misfortune, and live a long and blessed life.”