Yet when Tao Huiru looked up and her gaze met Chu Linlang’s, that faintly leaked contempt was instantly tucked away. She simply lifted her teacup and sipped at her tea in an unhurried manner.
After a while longer, the conversation turned once again to the topic of marriages among the various households.
It was only by being present in such company that Chu Linlang came to learn that her lord’s prospects for romantic entanglement had been particularly active of late.
For instance, a number of households had recently been hosting wine banquets, all of which had extended invitations to Situ Sheng — the currently ascendant first-rank official at court. As it happened, every one of these households also had daughters of remarkable beauty who had yet to be betrothed. Lord Situ, however, had declined each and every invitation on various grounds — pressing official duties, poor tolerance for wine, and the like.
As these invitations had all been extended through intermediaries who made the true intent plain, Lord Situ ought to have understood perfectly well what was behind each summons.
Yet he had turned them all down without exception — which inevitably set the various families muttering and speculating among themselves, wondering which household’s daughter Lord Situ had his eye on, or which family had gotten there first and cut in ahead of the rest.
And so, though the assembled mistresses of households were all smiling pleasantly as they chatted, each sentence was in fact a probe — each woman hoping to piece together some telling detail from the others.
This time it was Tao Huiru who studied Chu Linlang’s expression with a meaning-laden gaze.
The daughters of these ladies’ families might not match this little merchant wife Chu in looks, but in background and accomplishments, was there a single one who did not surpass her? Listening to all these ladies fawning over her sweetheart and hoping to snag him as a son-in-law — Chu Linlang must be feeling sour and wretched inside, mustn’t she?
Yet Chu Linlang defied Tao Huiru’s expectations entirely. She really did hold her composure, listening to the ladies bat the topic back and forth with a bright smile, betraying not the slightest trace of jealousy…
Tao Huiru’s thoughts drifted to the fact that everyone was saying Tao Yashu had earned the Emperor’s special regard because of a dispute this Madam Chu had gotten into with that Xiao Shuyi. With her toes she could guess — it must have been this crafty Madam Chu who had devised the scheme and helped Tao Yashu make an impression before the Emperor. So it seemed this niece of hers had now abandoned whatever foolish notions she’d held before, no longer thinking about some humble tutor, and had set her mind instead on climbing to a position within the palace.
What a pity! Even with Chu Linlang’s assistance, even after scheming so carefully to present herself as a woman of virtue and grace in order to win imperial favor — Tao Yashu was destined to come away empty-handed, like drawing water in a bamboo basket!
Thinking of the arrangements the Crown Prince had made, a cold smile crept back to the corner of Tao Huiru’s lips.
What it felt like to live as a widow while still breathing — she knew that better than anyone. She only wondered whether that niece of hers was strong enough to endure it.
But her insufferable sister-in-law was destined to come tumbling down from her lofty heights, left with nothing but an empty joy!
With that thought, Tao Huiru rose to her feet, claiming she needed to use the privy, and made her way toward her own courtyard.
She simply could not hold it in any longer! She needed to find somewhere away from all eyes and have herself a proper laugh.
At this tea gathering, Chu Linlang extended invitations to more than a dozen noble ladies to visit her shop. Linlang had a gift for the well-placed word, telling them all how the new jewelry pieces she had just received had been consecrated at a Nüwa goddess temple in the northwest — renowned for its efficacy — and that wearing such pieces would practically make fortunate marriages come knocking at one’s door.
For those ladies whose negotiations with a certain great court official had not been going well, they might as well come and give it a try — buy a full set and perhaps their luck would turn!
When the tea gathering broke up and Dongxue was boarding the carriage, even she couldn’t help remarking: “Miss, I have the feeling you’re practically selling the lord as a buy-one-get-one-free offer, bundled in with the jewelry!”
Chu Linlang pinched her lips shut: “Nonsense! If I don’t earn more silver, how am I supposed to arrange marriages for you lot of old spinsters? I can’t have you and Xia He stuck on my hands forever!”
Dongxue’s indenture had not yet expired, but she was clearly of an age to be married off.
Chu Linlang had no intention of letting both her maidservants end up as lifelong spinsters. Dongxue, hearing this, naturally scolded her mistress again for saying such embarrassing things — and for a moment, mistress and maid exchanged a bit of playful banter.
Upon returning to the suburban villa, before she had even made it through the entrance hall, a dog came bounding straight toward her.
This dog was the very one Guanqi had brought home that day — the one with teeth not yet fully grown — and in the end it had stayed. Perhaps having had its mouth pried open that day and been made to understand who was master of this place, the dog was enthusiastically warm in greeting Chu Linlang every time she returned.
Unfortunately, today it had not yet managed to tuck its head into Linlang’s arms before it was picked up by the scruff and set aside by another party whose teeth were also not yet fully grown.
Situ Sheng had returned early today, and had even taken the opportunity to purchase some crabs Linlang loved — each one weighing four ounces, steamed to a rich, deep red.
Linlang had loved crabs since she was small. She still remembered how, when Situ Sheng was a child, he had gone to the butcher’s stall to collect scraps of meat, then stayed up by lamplight and run out to the rice paddies to catch crabs for her to eat.
Thinking back on it now — a boy that small, forsaking good sleep, refusing to come home until he had caught a full basket — what extraordinary persistence that must have taken!
At the time, she had assumed it was simply a child’s love of play, that he just enjoyed the catching.
But thinking back on it now — that full basket, and not a single crab had the little rascal eaten for himself. Every one of them had gone to her.
As she peeled crabs, she smiled and spoke of old times, asking Situ Sheng why he had stayed up through the night catching them for her.
Situ Sheng had already finished peeling one crab, and now balanced the golden roe and snow-white meat together on a soup spoon, lifting it to Linlang’s lips: “Wasn’t it you who said so? That crabs caught at night are the fattest and most delicious, but you had never had the chance to eat them.”
Ah? Chu Linlang could not recall ever having said such a thing. Yet Situ Sheng remembered so many things about her — so very many things.
This man had undergone changes beyond all recognition in looks and stature from his boyhood to now, yet his care for her seemed never to have changed.
She might have once teased him for being her little younger brother, but thinking carefully on it now, it seemed that even when they had both still been children, Situ Sheng had already been in the habit of indulging her — and she had been the one receiving his care, more like a younger sister than otherwise.
This man’s early maturity truly left her, two whole years his senior, feeling somewhat ashamed of herself.
If Situ Sheng’s love had once left Linlang overwhelmed with gratitude, even doubting his judgment —
Then now, Linlang felt only how enormously fortunate she had been. Even amidst a childhood steeped in sorrowful memories, there had been this one attentive soul quietly standing watch at her side.
With that thought, she set down the crab in her hands and suddenly reached out and pulled Situ Sheng — who had been peeling crabs for her — into her arms.
Faced with Linlang’s sudden display of clinginess, all the sharp, chiseled lines of Situ Sheng’s face softened at once. He rubbed his cheek gently against her hair: “What is this — are you just happy from eating?”
Chu Linlang looped her arms around his neck and kissed his face firmly several times: “No… it’s because you’re here with me — that’s why I’m so happy.”
The smile on the man’s face grew softer still because of her words.
He had always been sensitive by nature, and could naturally perceive the subtle shift that had taken place in Linlang’s attitude toward him.
Although Linlang had seemed receptive to him all along, in the beginning she had been more like someone indulging a passing fancy — with the slippery ease of someone who might wipe her lips contentedly and walk away at any moment once she had her fill, someone who had in fact been quite afraid to let him into her heart.
But the Linlang of now was like a little crab that had only just timidly crept out of its muddy burrow — still occasionally raising its pincers in a show of bluster — yet already beginning to venture cautiously toward his sincerity, bubbling and gurgling as it reached back to meet him.
How could such a creature fail to inspire tenderness?
He couldn’t help but laugh as he leaned down and kissed the tip of her upturned little nose, coaxing her as one would a child: “What, still hungry? Be good — eating crabs cold will upset your stomach. Finish eating first, then I’ll give you all my attention…”
Having said this, he pressed his lips against her slender neck and bit down with deliberate intent.
Just what kind of hunger was he imagining she had?
This left the rarely sentimental Linlang somewhere between tears and laughter. She laughed and pounded his solid chest, demanding to know what on earth went on inside his head.
Situ Sheng put on an expression of pure innocence: “What? Am I less appealing than the crabs? Didn’t you say all those ladies were nearly coming to blows over the chance to have me as a son-in-law?”
Chu Linlang shot him a look: “If you want to be their son-in-law, there’s no one stopping you!”
Situ Sheng leaned close and sniffed with evident satisfaction: “Aged fragrant vinegar — just right for eating crabs.”
The crabs were delicious, but Situ Sheng still had to watch over Linlang and make sure her greed didn’t lead her to eat too many.
Her body had been overworked in the years before, sustaining real damage, and though Situ Sheng had engaged a renowned physician to treat her with targeted remedies and ongoing tonics, this kind of restoration required careful attention to complementary diet and a sustained, gradual approach.
Linlang had now gone a good while without eating cold foods, and something cooling like crab still required Situ Sheng to keep a watchful eye, ensuring she didn’t overindulge.
In the end, Situ Sheng took away the crab she had reached for again and carried her into the inner chamber — the only way to save the greedy woman from cleaning every last crab down to the shell.
Situ Sheng had declared that if she still wasn’t satisfied, he would simply have to do his best to feed her thoroughly himself.
Linlang had been growing somewhat more rounded of late, her luminous skin all the more tender and smooth, and combined with her increasingly irresistible air of clinginess, a man with any less self-discipline could very easily lose himself entirely to this little enchantress.
When at last the waves had stilled and the boat come to rest, Linlang lay languid and content, leaning against the man’s solid embrace, and asked: “Has Tutor Liao not been about to return to the capital? His last letter — did it carry any good news for you?”
The thing weighing most on her heart these days was the whereabouts of Situ Sheng’s mother.
The two countries’ border was now aflame with war. Though General Li and his son were valiant fighters who had temporarily checked the fierce momentum of the Jing Kingdom forces — and the Jing Kingdom, weakened by the grassland drought, lacked the reserves to hold out long and was eager to negotiate — Yang Yi would absolutely not wish to see peace talks succeed. When the time came, he would certainly stir up trouble again and try to compel Situ Sheng to act against his own conscience.
Only by rescuing his mother could the restraining spell locked around Situ Sheng’s head be truly broken.
Hearing Linlang ask this, Situ Sheng’s response was measured: “Jingxuan searched that border town but found no trace whatsoever. It seems my earlier guess was wrong — he did not hide my mother there…”
Chu Linlang turned to face him, touching his cheek with her hand, and said gently: “Though your father’s eyes have been blinded by hatred, even he would not be so devoid of humanity as to treat harshly the woman who bore him children. Don’t worry — when the road reaches the mountain, there will always be a way through.”
In truth, these words lacked conviction even as Chu Linlang spoke them. If Yang Yi had not been harsh to Wen Shi, she would never have been driven to madness by him and Tao Huiru.
But for now, all she could do was offer Situ Sheng comfort, and silently pray that Tutor Liao might yet make some new discovery.
As for the Tao household — they had been waiting with full hearts for the imperial edict formally elevating their daughter Tao Yashu’s rank.
Yet when the long-delayed decree finally arrived, the overjoyed Wu Shi could only listen in dumbfounded silence, unable to recover herself for a very long time.
She could only clutch her husband Tao Haisheng’s hand, her voice trembling as she confirmed: “You’re saying His Majesty has given Yashu to the Third Highness, Liu Yi, in marriage?”
Watching Tao Haisheng nod with weary listlessness, Wu Shi felt a sudden tightening in her head and the world went dark before her eyes — had her husband not caught her, she would truly have collapsed and fainted to the floor.
Supported to a nearby chaise longue, she was already streaming with tears: “What kind of monstrous joke is this? Whether that third prince is alive or dead no one even knows — what need has he to take a wife? If my Yashu marries into that household, won’t she simply be married to a spirit tablet?”
Tao Haisheng’s face had gone iron-dark. He clamped a hand over her mouth: “How dare you say such treasonous things? The thunder and the rain alike are the sovereign’s grace! The imperial edict has been issued — do you think you can compel His Majesty to take it back?”
Upon hearing this, Wu Shi seemed to be struck by a sudden thought, and quickly said: “No — I must enter the palace and beg the Empress Dowager. The old lady is so fond of Yashu — she will certainly plead with His Majesty on her behalf. Of all the female officials in the palace to bestow in marriage, why must it be the legitimate granddaughter of a duke’s household?”
Tao Haisheng grabbed her sleeve and lowered his voice urgently: “Stop making a scene! What you’re suggesting is that our Tao family’s daughter is too good for His Majesty’s own son — is that what you’d say to the Emperor? I just asked the eunuch who delivered the edict — before issuing the decree, His Majesty asked the Empress Dowager to first inquire whether Yashu was willing, and your worthy daughter agreed on the spot, giving not even the Empress Dowager — who had been prepared to intercede on her behalf — any room to negotiate. What is done is done. What good can making a scene do now?”
What? Wu Shi was utterly stunned at hearing this. She had never imagined that something so momentous had happened, and yet her daughter had not sent the slightest word to her own parents and family to consult — she had simply decided on her own.
In an instant, all of Wu Shi’s blazing fury transferred itself entirely onto her daughter. What sins had she committed in a past life, to have given birth to such a wooden-headed, foolish girl?
This imperial decision quickly spread throughout every household in the capital.
No small number of people were privately laughing at the Tao family behind their backs — a prime candidate for Empress, destined to end up as the living widow of a ghost prince. It was enough to make one slap one’s thigh and laugh oneself off one’s seat.
But those who were close to Tao Yashu heard the news with nothing but aching hearts.
Since she was to be wed to the Third Crown Prince, she would need to leave the palace, return to the Tao family home, and await the completion of the ceremony.
Guan Jinhe invited Chu Linlang to accompany her to the Tao estate to call on Tao Yashu before the wedding.
When Linlang arrived, she noticed some subtle changes at once. Before entering the palace, Tao Yashu had been surrounded by servants and maids, her courtyard lively with activity. Now, though she still occupied her original quarters, the courtyard was cold and deserted, and barely a servant was to be seen.
After the two close friends had settled into their seats, Tao Yashu even had to pour tea and bring water for them herself.
Guan Jinhe could not bear to watch. Taking the tea from Tao Yashu’s hands, she asked: “Where are all the servants in your courtyard?”
Tao Yashu gave a faint smile: “When I entered the palace, I didn’t bring any ladies’ maids with me. The ones who had previously served me were all reassigned to other courtyards. Now that my ceremony is imminent, my mother wanted to call them back to attend me, but one after another they had excuses — this one was ill, that one had a family bereavement — and those who couldn’t find an excuse to stay away came and knelt before me weeping, begging me to give them a decent future. After hearing enough of it, I found it tiresome, so I simply told my mother that apart from the rougher household servants, there was no need to reassign anyone here for now. I just wanted a few days of quiet.”
For servants, following the right master was like a loyal minister following a wise ruler — it defined a lifetime of prospects. If Tao Yashu were marrying an imperial prince of visible standing and promise, there would naturally be a comfortable future in it for them. But Tao Yashu had been betrothed to the capital’s famously notorious “ghost prince” — which meant walking into widowhood the moment she crossed the threshold.
What was most terrifying of all was that among the Tao household’s servants, a rumor had been circulating these past few days: that should the Emperor one day have a change of heart and officially declare the ghost prince no longer of this world, this Third Princess Consort might be expected to follow him in death — in which case, as her bridal attendants, the servants who accompanied her could end up interred in the imperial mausoleum along with her.
This absurd and alarmist story grew more outlandish with each retelling, until everyone gave Tao Yashu as wide a berth as possible, terrified of being assigned to accompany her into the Third Prince’s household as part of her bridal retinue.
Guan Jinhe had followed the usual custom of visiting a soon-to-be-wed friend and brought a large selection of embroidered items — but all those bright, festive reds, all those patterns of mandarin ducks playing in the water, failed in the present circumstances to convey any sense of joy.
Guan Jinhe, slow on the uptake, found herself only now, amidst the cold, bleak stillness of Tao Yashu’s room, realizing that her gifts were rather poorly suited to the occasion.
She didn’t know how to offer comfort, and yet she felt so grieved on Tao Yashu’s behalf that she wanted to weep. But if she actually wept aloud, and it spread, it would be taken as disrespect toward the imperial decree.
Guan Jinhe found herself completely at a loss. After sitting in awkward discomfort and managing only a few stilted sentences, she took her leave and departed early.
Once only Chu Linlang and Tao Yashu remained in the room, Tao Yashu, not wanting Linlang to feel awkward, had just opened her mouth to ask whether she too was ready to leave — when Chu Linlang rose, peered around all four sides of the courtyard to confirm there was no one nearby, shut the doors and windows, walked up to Tao Yashu, and lowered her voice: “If you want to run — I will help you.”
As she said this, Chu Linlang’s eyes glittered bright, her whole face alight with a wild and eager readiness for action.
What? Tao Yashu had always known Chu Linlang was extraordinarily daring, with no regard for convention — but she had never imagined Linlang’s daring would extend to urging her to defy an imperial decree.
She sat with her mouth half open, and said quietly: “Madam Chu — do you know what you are saying?”
Chu Linlang’s expression didn’t waver. She lowered her voice equally: “I will only say these words to you once, right now. Once we walk out that door, if you point to me and accuse me before others, I will deny every word. I mean what I say — if you don’t want this marriage, find a way to get out quickly. I will think of a route and arrange a boat for you. I guarantee they won’t find you.”
Small wonder Linlang was so bold — this arranged marriage was simply too insulting to any decent human being.
She had originally assumed the Emperor would elevate Tao Yashu to the rank of consort. The very image of that old emperor drawing Tao Yashu close had already been enough to keep Linlang from sleeping soundly. And now, it turned out there was something even more outrageous than that.
The third prince had long since vanished without a trace, his life or death unknown — and yet that muddled old Emperor had taken Tao Yashu, a woman of brilliant learning and the very prime of her youth, and stuffed her into that hollow, empty prince’s manor to live out her days clinging to nothing but a title.
What was this if not a foolish, unworthy ruler?
When she heard the news of this arranged marriage, she had been so furious she could not sleep a wink that night. All at once, she recalled that night when she herself had been pressed and coerced by her father and brother, nearly bound hand and foot and bundled into a bridal sedan chair to be married off as a concubine.
The state of her good friend Yashu’s heart must be exactly the same as her own had been then.
At that time, she had managed to think of a way to save herself. But what about Yashu? With that nature of hers — raised and shaped by the Tao family into such disciplined propriety — she would probably just dig her fingernails through her own palm, yet still swallow it all in resigned submission, continuing to suffer through days that grew ever darker and more hopeless, until she eventually drove herself out of her mind.
Feeling this so acutely, Chu Linlang had found herself unable to bear it — tossing and turning on her bed like a pancake on a griddle.
Until finally, her bedmate could stand it no longer and pressed her down to ask what was troubling her.
When Linlang had finished telling him, Situ Sheng simply asked: “So what do you want to do?”
Linlang’s thoughts had been unresolved up to that moment, but hearing Situ Sheng put it so plainly, she made up her mind on the spot and said: “I want to save her.”
Any other man, hearing the woman at his side say something so treasonous, would have been aghast and upbraided her sharply on the spot.
But Situ Sheng only raised an eyebrow and asked, entirely calmly: “And how do you intend to do that?”
Chu Linlang said with a rueful smile: “I have no good plan at the moment. But we can’t simply sit and wait for the worst. And in any case, it depends on what she herself wants — whether she’s willing to try.”
Situ Sheng nodded, actually acquiescing to her words without argument. Chu Linlang couldn’t help but feel curious: “Why aren’t you trying to talk me out of this? Aren’t you afraid of being dragged down by me?”
Situ Sheng patted her on the back and said with perfect composure: “What does this amount to? If it means you can sleep through the night, go ahead and do it. At worst, I’ll clean up the mess afterward.”
He was still himself — that same person who, when she was young and always getting into mischief and making trouble, had stood quietly on the side keeping watch and standing guard.
Now she was about to poke a hole in the sky itself, and he was still responding as though it were nothing — go ahead and poke, poke it hard, and if the sky falls, he’ll hold it up.
It was precisely because Lord Situ was there to hold things up that Chu Linlang felt bold enough today to put this utterly unorthodox suggestion before Tao Yashu.
Ever since Tao Yashu returned home, her mother had raged at her without mercy. Then her grandfather, who had always doted on her, was so furious he refused to see her. Her father only shook his head and sighed, urging her to calmly await the wedding. In the vast expanse of the Duke’s estate, even the servants skirted around her, fearing to be implicated and dragged along into that living tomb of the Third Prince’s Manor.
And yet there was one person willing to fly in the face of all the world, saying she would help her escape this hopeless, predetermined fate.
Just as that time in the oasis when danger had come — Madam Chu once again, without the slightest hesitation, reached out her hand to her as she sank deeper into the whirlpool of despair.
All the grief that had been brewing since she left the palace, with nowhere to go, burst through its walls in that moment.
Tao Yashu threw her arms around Chu Linlang and wept — wept with full, unreserved abandon.
This time, the composed and dignified daughter of a great family wept without any care at all for how she appeared.
It was Chu Linlang who, as though soothing her stepdaughter Yuan’er, wiped the mess from her tear-streaked face with a handkerchief, then said quietly: “I can’t stay much longer. Whatever you decide to do — you need to decide quickly.”
Tao Yashu reached back and gripped Linlang’s hand, making a visible effort to steady her sobbing, and said quietly: “I understand your resolve, and I wish I could be as you are — fearless and unconstrained. But I cannot simply run. After all, agreeing to ‘marry’ the third prince was my own decision — no one compelled me into it. Perhaps in others’ eyes it is a great joke — a candidate destined for Empress, ending up wed to a spirit tablet — but for me, not having to compromise my own heart, not having to ingratiate myself with a man I have no wish to love, is in its own way another kind of liberation. What of it, if I spend my life keeping company with an empty manor? There is no worldly glory in it, and no children at my knee — but I still have friends like you, who I can meet with whenever I wish. Is that not itself a blessing? And how could I allow a selfish wish of mine to drag you into trouble and bring down calamity that cannot be foreseen?”
Chu Linlang understood fully now. Yes — she was Tao Yashu. A heaven-blessed daughter who since childhood had borne the weight of her family’s every hope. Her own pride would not permit her to do as this merchant woman had done — to act on impulse, throw everything aside, and elope away into the night.
Yet just as Chu Linlang gave a small nod, her expression falling slightly with disappointment, and began to rise and prepare to leave — Tao Yashu reached out and caught hold of her hand. Her lips trembled slightly, and she asked very softly: “Tutor Liao… has he come back?”
—