When Chu Linlang was thirty-four years old, her husband — who had always been consumed with official affairs — for some reason suddenly found the time to take a few days of rest, and proposed accompanying her on a journey to travel and take in the scenery.

According to Situ Sheng, Emperor Guangwu had ascended to the throne for nearly ten years, yet had already taken the Empress with him on two trips down the Jiangnan region, one visit to Mount Tai, and just the previous year had taken the Empress to Xiuzhou in the west.

All of this because the Empress had mentioned offhandedly that she had read in a book about the boneless fish there, and that they were only delicious when freshly pulled up on a rod.

This level of frequent travel was frankly a bit much.

Had Emperor Guangwu not, since taking the throne, recovered Fushui, reformed the granary and taxation systems, and filled the imperial treasury to overflowing — frequent travel like this would have been enough for the court historians to record him in the annals as an indolent and pleasure-seeking ruler.

But as the minister of the entire realm, Situ Sheng had a duty to serve as the emperor’s mirror and could not but point out what was inappropriate about the ruler’s conduct.

Yet on hearing this, Emperor Guangwu dismissed all attendants and said a few quiet words to his chief minister, Situ Sheng: “This is hardly remonstrance on your part — it is plain old jealousy at work! Your wife heard the Empress talking about these outings and wanted to go on one herself, didn’t she?”

Situ Sheng kept his expression proper and his demeanor solemn, yet what came out of his mouth was somewhat off-course: “Your Majesty is discerning, and all is already known to you. Might you see fit to lighten some of your minister’s official duties, so that your minister too might find the time to take his wife and children out to enjoy themselves?”

The emperor stroked the short beard on his chin, smiled, and said nothing.

If not for this fellow’s machinations back then, why would he be confined to this deep palace now — having to rack his brains for excuses each and every time he wanted to go out and enjoy himself?

The one unfulfilled ambition remaining to him in this life was this alone: that someday he might be able to take his Yashu and roam freely across all the famous mountains and great rivers of the land.

In pursuit of this lofty ambition, he could hardly wait for his eldest son to grow up faster, so that he could toss the throne to the boy, leave this fellow Situ Sheng to serve the new emperor with all his heart, and go on living his own days of carefree ease.

Yet he had never expected that Situ Sheng, whose passion for official affairs was near obsessive, would actually come before him asking to be let out to play. If Situ Sheng were to take leave, who would handle all the intricate and complex affairs of government?

The two had known each other far too long, and each was the other’s mirror — Situ Sheng had only to glance at the emperor’s expression to know he was racking his brains for an excuse to refuse his request for leave.

So Situ Sheng, in no hurry at all, drew out his trump card: “Your minister also understands that with the selection of imperial consorts upcoming, I ought not to take leave — rather, I should assist Your Majesty in compiling the candidate lists, and make every effort to recommend beautiful women from across the realm to enrich the imperial household.”

Emperor Guangwu Liu Yi stared at him and said in a low voice: “You dare?”

Over the years, Situ Sheng had in fact deflected no small number of potential entanglements for Liu Yi, quietly extinguishing the wishes of various ministers to present beautiful women for the imperial household.

Raising this matter now was nothing less than a threat — if he was not allowed to take his wife out for some recreation, he would let Liu Yi’s inner palace erupt into flames.

If that truly came to pass, Yashu’s old tendencies would surely resurface, and she would scrub the floors of the entire inner palace down to the bone out of sheer disgust at the situation.

At this thought, Emperor Guangwu instantly softened his expression, and with affectionate pity patted the shoulder of his worthy minister, indicating that the man ought indeed to have some rest. He would distribute his duties among the left minister and several other senior officials, allowing him a month or more of leave to properly recuperate.

And so Situ Sheng, having extracted from an emperor who had been working him like a pack animal a month or more of hard-won holiday, made preparations to take Chu Linlang out to travel and enjoy the scenery, and eat some fresh boneless fish.

On hearing that they were going out to play, the eldest daughter, Yi’er, and the second son, Yong Ge’er, both smiled so wide their faces nearly split — and the third child, Hong Ge’er, who was still toddling, though he did not quite understand what was happening, pulled on his split-seat trousers and hopped around the courtyard alongside his elder sister and brother.

But then their father announced that he had no wish to bring the three little rascals along. He wanted to travel alone with their mother, and to let her have a proper rest and relaxation.

On hearing this, the two older children immediately turned their faces into bitter gourds, flinging themselves into their mother’s arms and crying with great determination, declaring they could not bear to be separated from their mother even for a moment, and that with so many delicious things to eat outside, how would their mother manage without their help, and what if she upset her stomach?

As for the youngest, who did not understand what was happening, upon seeing his elder sister and brother clinging to their mother in a knot, he shuffled over on his little stubby legs, staggering along, and used his big round head to wedge himself a space, burrowing into his mother’s arms as well, eyes brimming with tears.

Linlang’s weakness was precisely these adorable little eggs she had given birth to herself — seeing them cry so hard, she shot a glare at Situ Sheng and asked him why he had stirred up the children.

At that very moment, the eldest, Yi’er, turned back and flung herself into Situ Sheng’s arms as well, tearfully begging her father to bring her along, insisting she was older now and more sensible, and would never cause trouble the way her two younger brothers did.

Looking at that face — a perfect replica of the young Linlang’s — Situ Sheng could not help but let out a helpless sigh.

And so the whole family boarded a boat together and set off, embarking on a rare and precious time of leisured travel.

This trip would take them south along the way, and they would also visit Linlang’s mother, who had a fruit orchard down in Lingnan.

Linlang’s mother, Sun Shi, had originally been sent to Lingnan by her daughter, and had ended up settling in quite contentedly. Though the climate there was hot and humid, the people were agreeable.

Most notably, her mother had come to know a middle-aged widower — a Tang Yuanwai who also managed a fruit orchard — and discovered that Lingnan men could be even more nourishing than the fruit itself.

Sun Shi found that there did indeed exist men in this world who had no taste for drink, whose temperaments were soft as cotton, and who treated women with courtesy and respect.

Even when Linlang had repeatedly invited her mother back to the capital, her mother would stay for less than a month before hurrying back to Lingnan.

Five years ago, Sun Shi had officially remarried into the Tang family. When she wrote to Linlang seeking her opinion, Linlang naturally had no objections.

She knew her mother had been so beaten down during her years at the Chu household that she trembled at the sight of men. For a man to have convinced her mother to remarry must mean that his character and temperament were exceptional indeed — whatever he looked like.

And besides, Sun Shi, as the mother-in-law of the Great Jin’s chief minister, had nothing to fear even if, heaven forbid, she had misjudged a man. Life is short — one must always learn to take a step forward.

So this time Linlang also wanted to visit her mother, and to meet in person the stepfather whom her mother’s letters had praised to the skies.

Their itinerary on this journey would take them directly through Jiangkou.

For the place where the two of them had first come to know each other, they naturally had to stop and linger awhile.

Situ Sheng had traveled in plain, unmarked attire, not alerting the local authorities. So after leaving the children on the boat, the two of them set out with a few servants and maids, dressed in everyday clothes.

Linlang had no fear of running into anyone from the Chu Family.

After her mother had written a formal declaration of irrevocable separation from Chu Huaisheng, Linlang had, following her mother’s example, cut ties with the Chu family as well, maintaining contact only with her elder sister who was living in the capital.

Only later, after she married Situ Sheng, Chu Huaisheng had somehow heard the news that his third daughter had risen to prominence and become the wife of the chief minister, and had come eagerly with his son to pay his respects and seek some official position in the bargain.

Linlang had not even had to appear — Situ Sheng alone had dealt with that father and son.

No one knew exactly what methods the former harsh official Situ had employed, but reportedly that pair of father and son had been found disheveled and unconscious by someone in a pit in a wasteland cemetery. They had then stumbled away in a rambling, incoherent state, and had never again come to the capital.

Later, the entire Chu family had even moved away from Jiangkou, going elsewhere to make their way in the world.

As it turned out, however, Zhou Sui’an had actually moved back to Jiangkou. His career in the capital had gone nowhere, and he had eventually used money to arrange a reassignment back to his hometown — a roundabout form of retirement.

He had remarried, it was said — once again to a merchant’s daughter who could not read.

Yuan’er had written to Linlang saying that the new mistress of the household was miserly and calculating to a fault, so Grandmother Zhao Shi was having a very difficult time under this new daughter-in-law.

Zhao Shi had of course heard the news that Linlang had given birth to several children.

When Zhou Sui’an was drunk, he would sometimes smash cups and demand of his mother why she had not given Chu Linlang a little more time. She wasn’t unable to bear children at all — she had even consulted a diviner herself, who said her fate promised two pairs of “good.” It was just that the Zhou family was not destined for such fortune.

This so infuriated Zhao Shi that she could only weep and curse her son for his uselessness — it was his own philandering that had driven his wife away, what had she, the mother-in-law, to do with it?

Whenever she heard people murmuring behind her back about how the Zhou family had been blind, to have driven out such a worthy wife — Zhao Shi’s brow would darken with misery, and she would go home and weep for some time.

As for Yuan’er, five years prior, Linlang had quietly arranged through an intermediary to have a matchmaker call at the Zhou household, securing a fine match for her. Apart from Yuan’er herself knowing exactly whose hand was behind it, the Zhou family believed this excellent prospect had simply fallen from the sky — not realizing it was Linlang’s doing.

Only Yuan’er’s stepmother had been less than gracious about providing a respectable dowry for her.

Yuan’er said nothing. But on the day she married, the procession of her trousseau being carried out from the neighboring house left her stepmother’s eyes dazzled.

Zhou Sui’an was also left staring in astonishment, and upon asking, was told that it was the wife of the chief minister in the capital — Linlang herself — who had personally prepared the dowry for her former foster daughter.

Much as the stepmother stared with envy, she had no grounds to seize a stepdaughter’s dowry.

Only after seeing the daughter married off, the shrew turned around, locked Zhou Sui’an inside, and gave him a beating — convinced he had known about it all along and deliberately kept her in the dark.

Zhou Sui’an, whenever he looked for a wife, could not help comparing each to Linlang. Yet genuine treasures like Linlang — there was only one of her in the world.

The spirited merchant’s daughter he had found was no match for Chu Linlang in either character or quality. Zhou Sui’an might regret it bitterly, but he could not speak a word of his suffering aloud.

Yuan’er’s husband’s family was also in Jiangkou, so on this visit Linlang would also go to see Yuan’er — and in passing, give her a little more standing in her husband’s household.

Walking along the familiar streets, Linlang’s heart was full of quiet reflection. She had never imagined that when she next wandered through Jiangkou, she would be here as the wife of the man at her side, roaming with their three children.

These things were things she had not dared even dream of when she had returned to Jiangkou ten years ago.

At this thought, she could not help raising her eyes to look at the tall man beside her. He was still as striking and compelling as ever — holding her hand firmly as they strolled along the old streets, occasionally asking her if she remembered him following behind her on this very street on the way to the docks to sell clay dolls.

Linlang smiled and nodded: “Back then your legs were short, you couldn’t catch up with me, and you didn’t call out — you just ran behind me with all your might. It was adorable…”

Short legs? He simply had been a head shorter than her at the time — that was all.

This sort of remark — about having once been shorter than Linlang — was, however, a forbidden subject for the chief minister.

He could not help reaching out and pinching Linlang’s cheek: “…Tonight I’ll measure things myself — and see whose legs are shorter between the two of us.”

Linlang could tell from his eyes that what he had in mind was rather more than simply measuring leg length — but she could not resist, taking advantage of the quiet lane and the absence of anyone around, to steal a kiss on his cheek.

And Situ Sheng’s face softened in turn, as he naturally drew Linlang into his arms.

This caused the servants and maids trailing behind them to avert their eyes with great discretion — yet each wore a knowing smile: the chief minister and his wife truly had been this devoted and affectionate for nearly ten years, and not a day had changed.

Who could have guessed that the chief minister, so perfectly upright and composed before others, would in the presence of his own wife always be as tenderly devoted as a young man freshly fallen in love?

And now, after whispering quietly to each other for a moment, the two of them had actually gone and bought a bamboo basket from a street vendor, and even asked a fishmonger for some fish entrails…

Whatever were the two masters planning to do?

The servants followed all the way to a countryside paddy field — and stood there dumbfounded.

For the chief minister of the Great Jin, a man second only to the emperor and above ten thousand — the great Chief Minister Situ Sheng — had actually taken off his shoes, rolled up his trouser legs, picked up a length of fish entrail tied with a straw cord, waded into the paddy field… and with practiced ease, begun catching crabs.

While beside him, his wife — looking for all the world like a country girl — had plucked two large lotus leaves from a nearby pond, pressed one atop her own head, and sent the other one across to rest on Situ Sheng’s head…

When Situ Sheng pulled up a crab larger than a palm, his wife laughed just like a bright, radiant young girl, calling out for him to catch more.

Seen from a distance, it was as though two young people were spending a simple, carefree day together — as though they had always been like this.

The summer cicadas hummed long and unhurried, just as on summer days long ago. The people had not changed. The hearts had not changed.

A tree full of jade-like beauty, lying drunk and reclining amid the finest of branches.

Two bitter little fruits that had once missed each other, having passed through all their years of sourness — and now, at the moment of ripest sweetness, coming together once more, never to part again…