In the main hall, Cheng Jiao-niang removed her cloak and hood before kneeling down to sit.
“It has been a long time. I hope you have been well,” she said with a respectful bow.
Old Master Zhang, seated at the head, returned the gesture with a slight nod and a smile.
“I hope you have been well too,” he replied with a chuckle.
Once they were seated properly, a maid from the Zhang family entered, carrying tea.
“My mistress prefers plain water,” came the simultaneous voices of the maids kneeling at the door on either side.
Old Master Zhang burst into hearty laughter.
In the Zhou household, Zhou Liu-lang raised the bow in his hand and gestured toward Young Master Qin, who was seated and waiting.
“Yes, that’s the bow,” Young Master Qin said.
Zhou Liu-lang casually tossed it over. A maid nearby couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp.
After all, Young Master Qin was not whole—could he really catch such a heavy longbow?
Whenever Sixth Young Master interacted with Young Master Qin, he always seemed to forget that he was not whole.
Young Master Qin reached out and caught the bow, but the force of it made his body tilt to one side. He nearly lost his balance—his limited mobility making the moment look rather awkward.
Yet, there was no trace of displeasure on his face. Instead, he laughed heartily, lifted the longbow, and reached out to pull the string with force.
The bowstring did not budge.
Gritting his teeth, Young Master Qin exerted all his strength. His delicate features tensed, taking on a determined sharpness. Finally, with great effort, the bowstring was drawn open—just barely.
“Not bad, not bad! One stone and three dou*—much stronger than those five or six dou hunting bows,” he said. “Come on, let’s try using this for willow shooting this time.”
Zhou Liu-lang remained seated, unmoving.
“What’s wrong?” Young Master Qin asked. “Thinking about your cousin again?”
Zhou Liu-lang glared at him.
Young Master Qin burst into laughter, spinning the longbow in his hand.
“To recognize one’s mistake and correct it—that is the greatest virtue. But to know one’s mistake and refuse to change—that is truly unforgivable,” he said.
“I know my mistake,” Zhou Liu-lang said stiffly.
His straightforward admission of fault took Young Master Qin by surprise.
“It was my mistake too. I was so caught up in my own biases—thinking about the strange things that happened on the way back from Bing-zhou to Jiang-zhou—but I never considered that the fool could actually recover. If I had reminded you back then…” He shook his head with a smile.
“What does that have to do with you?” Zhou Liu-lang cut him off with a scoff. “Do you really think you’re some kind of deity, able to foresee everything? And besides, how is this even a bias? Who could have imagined that an idiot would actually…”
That an idiot would not only recover but turn into a brilliant person.
Who would believe it? Who could believe it?
Who in the world would believe such a thing? Otherwise, why would rumors of encountering an immortal spread so easily?
Young Master Qin laughed heartily and raised his teacup.
“You don’t need to comfort me. I’m not like you—I can admit my mistakes, but I don’t dwell on them or torment myself over them. I treat myself quite well, so don’t worry,” he said with a grin.
Zhou Liu-lang said nothing, simply lifted his bowl of tea and drained it in one go.
“You were wrong for lacking compassion and kindness,” Young Master Qin said.
Had Zhou Liu-lang possessed even a shred of mercy, he wouldn’t have avoided meeting his cousin—or at the very least, he would have spoken a few more words to her. If he had, he would have noticed something different about her, and the misunderstanding wouldn’t have reached this point.
“I admit that. But even if I had a second chance, I would still do the same,” Zhou Liu-lang said stiffly.
That fool had always been a stain on the Zhou family—something they wished they could erase completely. That fool had tarnished the family’s reputation and had been an unbearable burden on both his grandmother and aunt, casting a lifelong shadow over them. Zhou Liu-lang had never wanted to spare even a glance.
Young Master Qin nodded.
“That’s right. And that’s exactly why the conflict between you can never truly be resolved,” he said, pressing his fingers against his forehead.
Zhou Liu-lang set down his tea bowl and looked at Young Master Qin.
“Shi’san,” he said, “you’ve helped me twice now. The first time—if not for your reminder—we wouldn’t have been able to bring her to the capital so easily.”
Young Master Qin shook his head with a smile.
“No, no, that wasn’t really my doing,” he said, sipping his tea slowly. “It just so happened that she wanted to come. At most, I merely made things a little easier for her.”
He glanced at Zhou Liu-lang.
“It’s a rather frustrating feeling, isn’t it?” he asked with a laugh.
Zhou Liu-lang was silent for a moment—neither admitting nor denying it.
“Shi’san,” Zhou Liu-lang lifted his head again and looked at Young Master Qin. “The second time—you got drunk and acted mad, speaking of grievances—you were speaking on my behalf.”
Young Master Qin looked at him and smiled faintly.
“Shi’san,” Zhou Liu-lang took a deep breath. “Tell me, what should I do to completely put an end to this matter with her?”
At this, Young Master Qin straightened his expression and looked at him seriously.
“That,” he said, “is not something you should ask me. You should ask yourself—how do you want to end it?”
Zhou Liu-lang let out a breath and looked toward the door.
“How do I want to end it?” he muttered, clenching his teeth. “That depends entirely on what she wants!”
The door was pulled open, and Ban Qin was shoved inside.
“Pack up your things,” a woman said. “Let’s part on good terms. Go work properly in someone else’s household—earn back the dignity you lost. At least then, I can still have some respect for you.”
Ban Qin was in a daze. The push sent her stumbling forward, and she knelt down, steadying herself against the bed.
“They’ve called a broker from East Street.”
“The household is short on staff. Nanny Jiang said to buy another one.”
“I told them not to send her to the laundry room, but the higher-ups wouldn’t listen. They just reassigned people at random. These maids who have served the young master and mistress are all pampered—they can’t do any real work…”
“Should have sold her off back then…”
The women stood at the doorway, chatting idly.
Ban Qin knelt on the ground, her dazed eyes slowly sweeping across the room.
“Hey, hurry up and pack your things,” a woman urged impatiently.
Ban Qin snapped back to reality and crawled forward on her knees a few steps.
“Please, I beg you… I… I just want to see… see…” Her voice trembled.
“See who?” The woman frowned, then quickly shook her head with a chuckle. “You’d best give up on that idea. Just go quietly and don’t think about this place anymore. Don’t even think about seeing Sixth Young Master. The men in this household don’t meddle in the affairs of the inner court. Do you really think that if you beg him, he’ll speak up for you? And even if he did, do you think Madam would let you stay? If anything, that would only make things worse for you—being sold to a broker would be the least of your worries.”
Ban Qin shook her head.
“No, not Sixth Young Master… I… I want to see…” The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say them.
See the young mistress? What right did she have? Now that she was in trouble, she thought of her?
Tears welled up as Ban Qin covered her mouth with her hand, muffling her sobs as she collapsed forward onto the ground.
Forget it. Forget it.
“I… I want to change my clothes and freshen up,” she said, wiping her tears in a hurry, looking up at them. “Look at me, I look terrible. If someone comes later, it wouldn’t be good for them to see me like this.”
The women glanced at her briefly and nodded.
“Alright, that’s more like it,” one of them said. “Hurry up.”
The door was pulled shut, and Ban Qin sat on the floor, looking around the room.
Now, the mistress was living well, her maids were treated well too. From what she heard, even the master and madam of the Zhou family didn’t dare to treat her poorly. In short, the mistress was doing very well.
Ban Qin didn’t have anything to hold onto anymore, and besides, what right did she have to even claim she was attached?
But still, she hadn’t had the chance to see her once more…
But even if she did, the mistress wouldn’t recognize or remember her.
In a way, that was better.
She sat up properly and, facing the direction of Cheng Jiao-niang’s courtyard, bowed her head three times.
Young Master Qin sat in the palanquin, once again drawing the longbow.
“I think after about half a year of practice, I’ll be able to draw and release it with ease,” he said, full of enthusiasm.
In front, Zhou Liu-lang walked briskly, holding a bow in his hand.
“Liu-lang, I’m not brushing you off,” Young Master Qin said, “What you can do now is simple: just stay away from her, don’t provoke her. Let her do whatever she wants. Letting her be is much better than trying to apologize.” He smiled. “The truth is, you and her have never really had an issue—most of it is just you torturing yourself.”
“Now she’s deliberately causing trouble!” Zhou Liu-lang said angrily.
“Friendship is based on sincerity,” Young Master Qin replied, tapping Zhou Liu-lang with the arrow in his hand. “First, tap your heart and ask yourself if you’re being sincere. Don’t worry about her.”
Zhou Liu-lang turned around, about to speak, when a sudden commotion broke out. Maids were running around in a panic.
“Quick! Someone’s hanged themselves!”
Translator’s Note:
* In ancient Chinese measurement systems, 一石三斗 (one “shi” and three “dou”) was a unit of weight or volume. In modern terms:
- 1 石 (shi) ≈ 60kg
- 1 斗 (dou) ≈ 5kg
So 一石三斗 (1 shi 3 dou) ≈75 kg (165 lbs).
