February 15th. After several snowfalls, the sky over the capital finally cleared up. Amid the lingering chill, the signs of spring gradually began to emerge.
As soon as Chen Shi’ba-niang’s carriage stopped at the second gate, two maids hurried over.
“Shi’ba-niang, hurry up! The madam is going to the palace and wants you to accompany her,” they said.
The palace?
After the New Year, Madam Chen had been conferred the title of State Madam. While her rank and status were not low, she was still not of royal blood. Except for major ceremonial days, the imperial palace was not a place one could visit freely.
“What brings us to the palace?” Chen Shi’ba-niang was surprised but hastened to step down from the carriage.
The two maids exchanged slightly odd glances but dared not say much.
At that moment, Madam Chen approached. She was already dressed in her court attire, and Chen Shi’ba-niang quickly went to greet her.
With her sister-in-law currently pregnant and needing to rest and nurture the baby, the family had to be extra cautious. Childbirth was precarious—of ten births, only five might go smoothly, and of those five, two might still result in loss. Thus, the family avoided unnecessary risks, and social engagements were typically attended by the daughters.
Madam Chen glanced at her daughter and, noticing she was still wearing the long-sleeved straight robe made by Cheng Jiao-niang for the New Year, nodded approvingly.
“No need to change clothes,” she said.
Chen Shi’ba-niang acknowledged the instruction and followed her mother into the carriage as they set out.
“What’s going on?” she finally asked once seated.
Madam Chen smiled.
“Consort Xian is pregnant,” she said in a low voice.
It wasn’t particularly rare for a concubine in the palace to become pregnant, but it was always a cause for celebration. After all, the emperor’s difficulty in producing heirs was widely known. For some time, his health had been a cause of concern, leaving the court on edge. Now that he had recovered, the news of a concubine’s pregnancy was truly a cause for great joy.
“So, are the noblewomen being summoned to offer congratulations?” Chen Shi’ba-niang asked, puzzled.
That didn’t seem likely—it wasn’t as though the Empress had given birth.
Madam Chen’s smile, like that of the two maids earlier, carried a hint of peculiarity.
“Consort Xian has been feeling unwell with her appetite. She suddenly craved yellow sparrow, and while the imperial kitchen prepared it, she wasn’t pleased with the result. So, the Empress Dowager simply ordered me to bring a chef to prepare it personally,” she explained.
Chen Shi’ba-niang’s expression turned a bit strange as well. She wanted to laugh but restrained herself.
“Consort Xian truly enjoys profound favor from His Majesty,” she said, suppressing a smile.
Naturally, such an arrangement required the Emperor’s approval. However, as the emperor, he couldn’t command an official to send chefs to the palace—otherwise, it would surely invite criticism from the censors and court officials.
“Why are you back so early today?” Madam Chen asked, as if recalling something.
Chen Shi’ba-niang had already informed her parents that day that she would be studying with Cheng Jiao-niang. Cheng Jiao-niang enjoyed listening to others read, and both Master and Madam Chen were aware of this, so they naturally assumed that Chen Shi’ba-niang was simply going there to keep her company and read to her.
“She’s been like that since she was little. She probably doesn’t have any siblings or close friends in the capital. It’s rare for her to want to be close to you, so you should go,” Madam Chen advised.
Chen Shi’ba-niang didn’t bother to clarify her parents’ misunderstanding and simply responded vaguely.
“Lady Cheng went out today and left word for me to come tomorrow instead,” she said.
“Where could she be going?” Madam Chen asked curiously.
Chen Shi’ba-niang shook her head. Madam Chen didn’t press the matter further, as the carriage had already entered the imperial palace.
To ensure the safety of her pregnancy, Consort Xian was moved to the Empress Dowager’s palace to live. Upon hearing the announcement, the Empress Dowager rose from her seat, and the young man kneeling at the lower end of the room stood up first.
“Wei-lang, you should return for now,” the Empress Dowager said, calling to the young man with a smile.
The young man paid his respects.
“Also, don’t bring up leaving the palace again,” the Empress Dowager added. “You are still in mourning for your father, and your father was also from the Fang family royal lineage. There is no need for taboos. Stay at the palace peacefully, and wait until next year when the First Prince and you will leave the palace together.”
With that, she glanced at the palace attendants nearby.
“Whoever dares to speak of Duke Jin’an leaving the palace again will be thrown out,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
The attendants all responded in agreement, and the young man once again bowed before exiting.
The Empress Dowager let out a sigh of relief with a hint of joy and gently leaned on the arm of the elderly palace servant beside her.
“See, this child really is a lucky star. He’s just returned, His Majesty is well again, Consort Xian is pregnant, and yet there are still people bold enough to suggest he leave the palace to take up a fief,” she said with a hum, clearly displeased. “Do those who make such suggestions think I don’t know their intentions? Tell Consort Hui’s family to lay low.”
The attendants responded in agreement.
The Empress Dowager’s tone lightened as she spoke again.
“So, the yellow sparrow from the Chen family really is as delicious as they say? I must try it too.”
The group chuckled as they exited and made their way toward the back hall.
As Duke Jin’an stepped out of the palace doors, he suddenly stopped, his expression slightly surprised as he looked toward the side door. Just moments ago, two palace maids had led two women inside.
The matron’s ceremonial robes stood out prominently, and the young girl walking beside her… was equally conspicuous.
Though it was only her back he could see, the clothing she wore—he had only seen it once before in his life.
The first time was by the campfire, surrounded by howling wolves. The night wind blew up the girl’s cloak, and in the firelight, her plain black attire stood out starkly.
“Duke?” a palace attendant asked in a soft voice.
Duke Jin’an pulled his gaze away and took a step forward.
“Who are they? Are they Consort Xian’s family?” he asked with a smile.
“No, they’re from the family of Master Chen Shao, the Minister of Personnel,” the attendant replied with a smile as well.
Looking at the young duke’s smile—bright and cheerful—the chill in the air seemed to dissipate considerably.
“Oh, the Chen family.” Duke Jin’an nodded with a smile, then turned back to glance at them. His long brows subtly raised.
What a coincidence. To run into them again.
It was one thing to dress casually in the wild, but to enter the palace to meet a noble in such plain, somber attire—it was truly odd.
Duke Jin’an smiled faintly.
Bundles of bamboo tubes were tossed into the blazing bonfire, and the crackling sound of them splitting echoed one after another. The children covered their ears and jumped around, while the onlookers surged forward, cupping their hands in salute and exchanging laughter with the few men standing by the door.
It was too far to hear what they were saying. Once these people entered the tavern, all their actions and expressions became indistinguishable.
Only the flags on the flagpoles were visible, fluttering in the chilly February breeze. The characters “Tai Ping Residence” on the flag rolled and waved with the wind, clearly visible even from several yards away.
“Miss, aren’t we going over?” the maid turned to Cheng Jiao-niang, asking with a hint of joy. “The shop has opened.”
“Here or there, isn’t it the same?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
The maid smiled but didn’t speak further, instead looking down at the dry grass on the ground. She couldn’t help but exclaim, “It’s sprouting!”
With a touch of joy, she added, “Miss, look.”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked down, her hood covering half her face.
“Mm,” she said, “Spring has come.”
The bustle in front of Tai Ping Residence gradually faded away. After the initial excitement that drew the local villagers, no one else entered. The road remained busy with carts and people, but either they hurried past, eyes straight ahead, or they glanced briefly before continuing on their way.
“Ban Qin,” Cheng Jiao-niang suddenly called out.
The maid, still looking around at the surrounding grass, quickly stood up and responded.
“Go see if your old master has returned,” Cheng Jiao-niang instructed.
The maid was startled.
When she first came to serve her mistress, she found her strange and hard to read. But as time passed, by observing her words and actions, she managed to understand her general thoughts. Although her mistress rarely showed emotion, she usually guessed right about her intentions. However, since they arrived in the capital, the maid felt more in tune with her mistress’s words, yet the mistress’s thoughts had become more and more difficult to understand.
For example, when her mistress initially said she wouldn’t intervene in the matter, who would have guessed it was actually to prepare for the intervention she was now planning? Or when her mistress instructed the young masters to buy the tavern, was it for her own benefit, for them, for the cook, or perhaps to fulfill the kind heart of that Young Master Han?
What did she mean by asking about the old master now? Was there something she couldn’t resolve on her own?
What could it be?
The maid grew tense, her heart unsettled.
“Yes,” she replied quietly, lowering her head.
