The sky was just beginning to brighten, casting a dim, dusky light over the courtyard.
Ban Qin had already washed, dressed, and tidied herself up. She first went to the kitchen to prepare plain congee, then made her way to Cheng Jiao-niang’s door. Before she could even reach out to knock, the door opened on its own.
Cheng Jiao-niang, also fully dressed, stepped out.
“Miss, shall we go?” Ban Qin said with a smile.
Cheng Jiao-niang took a step forward.
The early morning alley was quiet and still, with chickens and ducks still asleep. A dog pricked up its ears at the sound of approaching footsteps but soon let them droop again, burying its head back into its legs to continue sleeping.
Just as Cheng Ping was completing his third circle at the crossroads, he saw the girl approaching gracefully. She wore a dark blue cloak, her jet-black hair tied loosely behind her. With few people around in the early hours, she had no need to hide her jade-like face beneath a hood. The contrast between her dark attire and fair skin was striking, and she seemed almost ethereal, as if stepping through the mist on that winter morning.
“Lady Cheng, Lady Cheng,” he called out cheerfully, stepping forward to greet her. “What a coincidence! Where are you headed?”
Cheng Jiao-niang came to a halt the moment her eyes fell on him.
“Yes,” she replied softly, lowering her head after he finished speaking. “I’m just taking a stroll.”
Cheng Ping noticed that as she spoke, she took a step back and turned slightly aside. Not only did she avoid looking directly at him, but she didn’t even face him squarely while keeping her head down.
This was clearly the kind of deference a junior would show to an elder. But it didn’t make sense – her elders were all in that large estate, and over the past few days, despite all the comings and goings, he had never once seen her, as a junior, greet or send off any of them.
Cheng Ping forced a stiff smile, the corners of his lips twitching slightly.
Or perhaps she was actually unsettled by what he had said?
“Lady Cheng, I know you said ‘no second divination,’ but I’d like to perform another reading for you…” he couldn’t help but say.
Cheng Jiao-niang bowed her head slightly in a polite gesture.
“There’s no need. Please don’t trouble yourself – your reading was accurate,” she replied. “It’s not your concern; it’s my own matter.”
Cheng Ping scratched his head and chuckled.
Right, right – this young lady was far too clever. How could someone so sharp-witted be easily frightened?
“Then I apologize for disturbing you, Miss,” he said with a courteous smile.
Cheng Jiao-niang sidestepped his gesture of respect, curtsying slightly and murmuring a humble “I dare not.”
Cheng Ping rubbed his head, noticing her clear reluctance to engage further. Left with little choice, he took his leave.
Only after he had walked several steps away did Cheng Jiao-niang continue on her path, her movements calm and unhurried as she faded into the morning mist.
“Perhaps I possess an extraordinary talent, destined for greatness. Others may not see it, but this young lady – sharp-witted and touched by an unusual fate – can perceive it. That must be why she treats me with such reverence…”
Cheng Ping muttered to himself, but before he could finish, a vegetable stem came flying from nowhere and struck him on the shoulder.
“Ping Ge’er, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
A woman leaned out from a nearby house, laughing as she spoke, a kitchen knife still in her hand.
“You’ve been circling around here for three days now – what a ‘coincidence’ to run into Lady Cheng.”
News of Cheng Ping’s encounter had spread throughout South Cheng after the two women returned with the story. At first, everyone assumed Cheng Ping had offended Lady Cheng, but the two women firmly denied it. In their view, not only had he not offended her – Lady Cheng actually held him in high regard. Their reasoning was straightforward: Wouldn’t any of you have beaten Cheng Ping half to death? Yet not only did the young lady not lay a hand on him – she even apologized to him personally.
Lady Cheng was now the most formidable and respected figure in South Cheng. Anyone she respected, they naturally felt obliged to respect as well.
After Cheng Ji made the final decision, everyone unanimously agreed to build a house for Cheng Ping and treat him with great warmth. However, when Cheng Ping returned, they realized the situation was not as they had imagined.
As for the young lady, it was as if she had never known Cheng Ping at all – let alone showing him any special regard.
Thus, the enthusiasm and respect from everyone quickly faded. That said, they no longer treated him with the same disdain and contempt as before, when they would mock him as a “little swindler.” Their previous attitude had stemmed from doubts about his background and origins.
Cheng Ping explained to First Master Cheng that his grandfather had been a member of the Cheng family. In his youth, his grandfather had left to make a living elsewhere and eventually settled in Shu-zhou. Due to poverty, although he had always wished to return to his homeland, he never had the means to do so. Before he passed, he urged Cheng Ping’s father to fulfill this wish, but his father also failed to accomplish it. The task then fell to Cheng Ping himself, who had endured great hardships to make the long journey back to his ancestral home.
“For three generations, my family lived in Shu-zhou, yet I speak the authentic Jiang-zhou dialect,” Cheng Ping said, his eyes glistening with tears.
Now that everyone had accepted his identity and welcomed him as one of their own, their attitude toward him had changed.
“You’ve got quite the nerve – cheating that young lady without fear of being beaten,” the woman continued with a laugh.
Cheng Ping chuckled and waved his hand dismissively.
“You’re mistaken, ma’am. This isn’t cheating,” he replied. “I know this excuse, the young lady knows it, and those who witnessed it know it too. Since everyone is aware, it’s an open and honest matter.” He smiled. “Many things in this world are understood but left unspoken. Pointing them out openly is what makes it deceitful and unpleasant.”
The woman scoffed playfully.
“You always have a way with words,” she said, waving her kitchen knife. “But talk won’t fill your stomach. Would you like some vegetable porridge?”
Cheng Ping grinned and bowed deeply.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, straightening up. “But that won’t be necessary. I’m going to check on the house construction – perhaps offer some advice on feng shui.”
The woman scoffed again.
“Feng shui advice? More like sweet-talking your way into a free meal,” she retorted.
Cheng Ping simply smiled without confirming or denying it and walked away.
“The food served at the construction site over there is really quite good,” the woman murmured to herself, shaking her head before resuming her vegetable chopping. The rhythmic thump-thump of her knife broke the early morning silence. Gradually, similar sounds began to multiply – the crowing of roosters, the barking of dogs, the playful shouts of children, and the scolding of adults—all blending together as a new day began to buzz with life.
“…Cheng Jiao-niang, you shameless – !”
A sharp, shrill girl’s voice drifted out from the courtyard, causing those nearby to frown in displeasure.
“The Cheng family is here again…”
“First Master Cheng fell ill due to his own condition—why do they keep coming here to harass the young lady every day?”
“The young lady is truly too patient. How can she tolerate their behavior…”
“Right? She should just chase them away with her bow and arrows…”
The hushed discussions outside did little to disturb the scene unfolding within the courtyard. Standing beneath the corridor, Cheng Liu-niang faced the seated girl with a face pale as iron, tears welling in her eyes, her breath uneven.
The girl remained still, leaning against an armrest and holding a teacup, motionless and silent. Were it not for the occasional sip of tea, one might have mistaken her for a clay or stone statue.
“The Cheng family has become the laughingstock of the entire city! Cheng Jiao-niang, do you even bear the Cheng name anymore?” Cheng Liu-niang shouted, tears streaming down her face as she thought of the recent events.
In the past, she had been terrified of this “fool” – frightened by her crooked mouth, slanted eyes, and the drool and mucus that often accompanied her. Those memories had haunted her twice before, even giving her nightmares.
But now, as she stood before this girl, there was no terrifying appearance. Instead, she was strikingly beautiful – a sight that should have held no reason for fear. Yet, a chill ran deep within Cheng Liu-niang’s heart. This fear didn’t manifest in nightmares, but it jolted her awake in the dead of night, leaving her trembling with a coldness that seeped from her very bones.
The Cheng family was on the verge of ruin…
They had become a joke throughout Jiang–zhou…
The families once interested in marriage proposals had gone silent…
Before, having a “fool” in the family had sometimes led to mockery in social circles. But that mockery had never truly been about her, nor had it caused real harm. In fact, it had occasionally given her a slight sense of superiority, allowing her to vent her frustrations under the guise of complaining about the family’s disgrace.
Now, however, things were different. This was no longer just about having a “fool” in the family – it was about the Cheng family itself. This “fool” had sued the Chengs, the authorities had accepted the case, and the family’s reputation was on the brink of collapse.
Having a flawed individual in the family might have brought some shame, but if the family itself fell apart—everyone would be ruined.
It is the family that defines the individual. Without the family, what were any of them?
“Cheng Jiao-niang, may you die a wretched death!”
Cheng Liu-niang screamed, rising to her feet. But she had no chance to lunge forward – Ban Qin, who had been standing guard by the door, stepped in to block her way. The attendants in the courtyard, already on high alert, also moved closer.
“Let go of me, you lowly scum!”
Cheng Liu-niang shoved Ban Qin aside, shooting a venomous glare at Cheng Jiao-niang, who remained leisurely seated inside the room. Then, wiping her tears, she turned and fled.
“Cheng Jiao-niang, you betray your family and defy your ancestors! You violate the natural order and commit such evil—may you die a miserable death!”
The gate slammed shut with a loud clang. The sound of her crying gradually faded into the distance, and the courtyard settled back into silence.
“Whether one dies a wretched death or not actually has little to do with what they’ve done in life,” Cheng Jiao-niang remarked, straightening her posture and setting down her teacup.
Ban Qin, standing under the eaves, couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Miss, were you actually listening and thinking seriously about what she said?” she asked, a hint of reproach in her tone.
“Of course I was listening. It was quite lively, and her voice was pleasant – much better than First Madam’s,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied as she stood up. “Will there be any more visitors today?”
Ban Qin laughed again, though this time with a touch of helplessness.
After First Master Cheng had collapsed at her doorstep and been carried back home, he had narrowly survived, but the physicians strictly forbade him from leaving his bed again. They warned that one more such episode would be beyond even divine intervention. The Cheng household had since descended into chaos. First Madam Cheng had stormed over with her entourage, though she certainly hadn’t gotten her way. Since then, family members had been showing up frequently – some shouting insults, others weeping bitterly, taking turns appealing to both emotion and reason.
One might have expected Cheng Jiao-niang to refuse them entry or, as Steward Cao and Ban Qin had suggested, move elsewhere for peace. Yet, despite her usual preference for tranquility, she had not only stayed but also allowed the Chengs to enter.
Though she never responded to their words, she seemed to listen with surprising attentiveness.
Ban Qin wasn’t worried that the Cheng family’s words would harm Cheng Jiao-niang in any way – she simply found it strange.
“Miss, why waste your time like this?” she said.
Cheng Jiao-niang had never been the type to engage in lengthy exchanges or tolerate others’ ramblings.
As Cheng Jiao-niang reached out to tie her armguard, she paused slightly at the question.
“I just… don’t want to be too idle,” she replied.
Idleness led to overthinking, and right now, she couldn’t afford that. Matters had to be considered and handled one by one. If she thought too much, she feared she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together.
It was better this way: opening her eyes and going out for a walk, spending the day surrounded by people talking, crying, and shouting – drawing her bow, practicing archery, studying characters, reading. When night fell, she would close her eyes and sleep. This was how it had to be.
Ban Qin lowered her gaze, unable to bear looking into her mistress’s eyes any longer. She stepped forward to help fasten the armguard and retrieve the bow and arrows hanging on the wall.
Day after day, the sun rose and set, and the festive atmosphere of the New Year grew stronger as the twelfth lunar month deepened.
Yet, within the deep palace halls, there was no trace of joy.
Two eunuchs hurried down a corridor of one particular palace, carrying a large wooden bucket between them. It was filled with soiled garments that emitted a foul, stench of excrement. As they passed, the maids and eunuchs lining the hallway couldn’t help but frown. One even instinctively raised a hand to pinch his nose – but the moment he did, someone nearby struck him sharply.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” the person whispered in warning, casting a nervous glance toward the interior of the palace.
The offender quickly stuck out his tongue in a gesture of remorse and lowered his hand.
“Liu Ge’er, you’ve changed clothes – now let’s eat something.”
Duke Jin’an sat down by the bedside, lifting the hem of his robe as he settled. He reached for a bowl of rice from the small table nearby—it was impossible to tell whether it was the first, second, or third serving he had offered.
On the bed, the Second Prince sat cross-legged, his cheeks flushed and a smile on his face. The bandage around his head had been removed and replaced with a hat that concealed the wound, making him appear almost as he once did. But the drool trickling down his chin as he smiled and the vacant look in his eyes served as stark reminders that everything had changed.
Everything was different now.
He waved his hands aimlessly in the air, letting out meaningless babbling sounds.
Duke Jin’an quickly steadied the prince’s arm with one hand to prevent him from knocking over the bowl, while continuing to coax him gently with a smile.
“Let’s eat, let’s eat. After you finish, your brother will take you out to play,” he said softly.
A silver spoon lifted rice from a golden bowl into the Second Prince’s mouth. Half was swallowed, while the other half dribbled out, staining the drool cloth beneath his chin—a sight that turned the stomach.
By the time half the bowl had been fed, just as much had been spilled. Then, with a sudden wild swing of his arm, the prince knocked the bowl over entirely. The clatter of metal against stone echoed sharply through the hall.
Duke Jin’an’s robes were inevitably splattered with food. Eunuchs hurriedly knelt to clean the mess.
“Your Highness, please go change your clothes…” one eunuch ventured cautiously.
But Duke Jin’an remained seated as still as a stone statue, his eyes fixed on the Second Prince, who waved his arms aimlessly, drooled, and babbled incoherently. He seemed not to have heard the eunuch’s words.
“Liu Ge’er, this is an illness – it is an illness,” he said suddenly, reaching out to steady the Second Prince by the shoulders. “Since it is an illness, I will take you to be cured. I will find a way to heal you.”
