The sky was bright, yet their view became blurry. The mountain wind also grew stronger, blowing so hard that their cloaks billowed.
“Put your hood on,” said Duke Jin’an.
Cheng Jiao-niang raised her hand and pulled up her hood.
The mountain wind carried the sporadic sound of firecrackers, faint and intermittent.
“Is it the twenty-ninth or the thirtieth today?” Duke Jin’an suddenly asked.
“The thirtieth. Tomorrow is the first day of the new year,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
“Then, Liu Ge’er and I will stay and celebrate the New Year with you,” Duke Jin’an said with a smile. “It’ll be livelier with more people. I just don’t know if it might inconvenience you.”
Cheng Jiao-niang turned her head to look at him.
“I know,” Duke Jin’an cut in before she could speak. “No one and nothing ever inconveniences you. I was just asking casually.”
Hearing this, Ban Qin quickly turned around and waved at the attendants.
“One of you, go tell Steward Cao to hold off on the preparations for leaving and start preparing for the New Year instead,” she whispered.
In the capital, as night fell, the streets were already empty, with all the hustle and bustle sealed behind the doors of every household.
By the residence near the Yudai Bridge, new peach wood charms had already been hung at the entrance. Two young servants were giving the lanterns a final wipe, while inside the courtyard, two young maids were bustling about.
“Ban Qin, are you really not going back home?”
“I won’t be going. If I leave, this house will feel empty and lifeless. After all, this is our lady’s home. Ban Qin, you should hurry back. I’ll come during the first month of the year to pay my respects to the Old Master.”
The one speaking was called Ban Qin, and the one replying was also named Ban Qin. The young servants and maids couldn’t help but glance over curiously.
Under the corridor, two girls smiled and held each other’s hands. Just as one had bid farewell, another wave of liveliness arose at the entrance.
“Fourth Young Master is here,” Ban Qin said with a smile as she hurried forward to greet him.
The servants at the entrance quickly bowed, watching as the rather shabbily dressed young scholar stepped inside.
Cheng Si-lang felt somewhat uneasy.
“I could have just stayed at the academy. There was no need to come here,” he said.
“But this is your home,” Ban Qin replied with a laugh. “The academy is on break – what would you do there all by yourself?” She then paused and looked at him curiously. “Fourth Young Master, why are you dressed so lightly in the middle of winter? Where are your winter clothes and cloak?”
“I left in a hurry and forgot to bring them,” Cheng Si-lang explained with a smile. “But it’s fine – the carriage wasn’t cold.”
Ban Qin didn’t press further and instructed a young maid to escort him inside. She then turned and pulled aside Cheng Si-lang’s servant.
“…The family didn’t send any winter supplies…” The servant, intimidated by her, whispered nervously.
“If they didn’t send any, couldn’t you have bought some yourself? What are you even here for?” Ban Qin scolded in a hushed tone.
“W-we don’t have that much money…” the servant stammered.
“Did your family not send any money either? Your young master isn’t like our lady – no one would care even if he died.”
The maid was known for her sharp tongue, and the servant could only offer an awkward smile.
“N-no, they didn’t. I’m not sure what happened – maybe it just hasn’t arrived yet,” he mumbled.
Ban Qin poked his forehead in frustration, shot him a stern look, and sent him on his way before turning to enter the house.
“…I should head back after dinner…” Cheng Si-lang said.
“Why go back? Tomorrow morning, you can come with me to pay a New Year’s visit to Old Master Zhang’s house,” Ban Qin replied.
Zh… Zhang?
“To my teacher’s house?” Cheng Si-lang’s voice trembled slightly.
“Not to visit your teacher – to pay respects to the Old Master,” Ban Qin said with a laugh.
Wasn’t that the same thing? No – it was even more nerve-wracking than visiting his teacher.
“Here are some new clothes.”
“You went through the trouble of making clothes for me?”
“Not exactly. These were originally made for Young Master Fan and the others, but they were never worn. Fourth Young Master, you’re too slender – we’ll need to take them in a little…”
Inside the room, the lights shone brightly, and the warm, lively atmosphere was filled with conversation and laughter, making the winter night feel gentle and cozy.
As night gradually fell, the sound of firecrackers in the capital grew increasingly frequent. Lanterns hung brightly lit at every household, filling the city with a dazzling glow as if it were a fairy-tale realm.
Perched on the mountainside, the Taoist temple appeared even more isolated in the darkness. The lanterns hanging at its entrance swayed in the pitch-black forest.
The rear courtyard’s side rooms were filled with quite a few people, though their restraint, combined with their current circumstances, made it difficult for them to fully enjoy themselves.
“Here is some light wine. Let’s have a few sips to mark the occasion,” Steward Cao said.
Everyone present smiled, raised their cups, and took a small sip.
“Though we are in the rustic mountains with simple fare, I hope you will not mind,” Steward Cao continued. “However, the pastries from Xuan-miao Temple are quite famous. Please, everyone, try some.”
The people seated in the room picked up their chopsticks, expressing thanks as they began to eat.
Suddenly, the sound of firecrackers erupted in the courtyard.
Steward Cao turned to look and saw a bonfire blazing in the yard. Jin Ge’er was laughing as he tossed bamboo poles into the fire, causing loud cracking noises. “Jin Ge’er, stop fooling around! Be careful – watch your hands!” he called out.
The main hall’s doors were wide open, brightly lit with lamps and candles. Inside, Cheng Jiao-niang, Duke Jin’an, and the Second Prince could be seen sitting upright.
Whether it was due to the noise of the firecrackers or something else, the Second Prince suddenly shouted loudly and overturned the table in front of him.
Ban Qin hurried out to scold Jin Ge’er.
“He’s not afraid of that,” said Duke Jin’an, reaching out to hold onto the squirming and fidgeting Second Prince. “He’s used to the sound of firecrackers from the journey – he just doesn’t like sitting still and gets restless after a while.”
“Ban Qin, bring him some of the brewed tea soup to have,” said Cheng Jiao-niang.
Ban Qin acknowledged and hurried off. Meanwhile, the Second Prince broke free from Duke Jin’an and moved over to Cheng Jiao-niang’s table across from him. Duke Jin’an reached out but failed to catch him and quickly stood up to follow. However, he was too late – the Second Prince had already grabbed a plate from Cheng Jiao-niang’s table. Perhaps he had been trying to take some pastries, but instead, he knocked the plate over. Frustrated at not getting what he wanted, he began to cry and shout.
The room instantly fell into chaos.
I really shouldn’t have stayed, Duke Jin’an thought with an inward sigh. It’s lively, alright – but who actually enjoys this kind of commotion?
He held onto the Second Prince, trying to comfort him, when a hand holding a pastry extended toward them.
“Here, play with this,” said Cheng Jiao-niang.
The Second Prince immediately reached out, grabbed it, and broke into a grin, drool dripping onto his clothes.
Duke Jin’an quickly took a handkerchief to wipe his mouth. Just then, Cheng Jiao-niang’s hand reached out again.
“For you,” she said.
Duke Jin’an glanced at her and smiled. With one hand holding the Second Prince and the other busy wiping drool, he couldn’t take it – yet he didn’t want to refuse. Instead, he leaned forward and bent his head down, taking the pastry directly from her hand with a bite.
“Thank you,” he mumbled through a mouthful, still chewing and smiling.
This was far too forward! Ban Qin, startled, quickly turned away.
“Come, come! Firecrackers, firecrackers – let’s toss a few ourselves!” Steward Cao called out, hurriedly beckoning everyone over. The crowd laughed and surged forward, grabbing bamboo poles to throw into the fire. The courtyard soon echoed with a series of crackling sounds, mingling with the fireworks from the villages down the mountain.
On the morning of New Year’s Day, while the sky was still dark, the front of the imperial palace was already packed with a dense crowd of people. Despite the large number of carriages and horses, the scene remained eerily silent, adding to the palace’s imposing majesty.
As the officials were still lining up to enter the palace according to their ranks, Qin Shi’san-lang was already strolling leisurely outside the grand hall where the banquet was to be held.
The hall was lavishly decorated and brilliantly lit for the annual wine banquet – yet this was his first time attending.
“Back then, I thought avoiding crowds was the true way to enjoy life’s vibrancy,” he remarked, nodding to himself. “But now it seems that blending into the world while remaining detached is the wiser path.”
Looking back, he realized that many of the things he had done to convince himself he was “normal” would still have appeared quite unusual in the eyes of truly ordinary people.
“Young Master, the Madam asked you not to wander off,” the servant whispered in reminder.
But Qin Shi’san-lang had already made his way to the front of a side hall. Hearing faint, lively sounds from within, he couldn’t help but feel curious.
“Young Master, these are the singers and dancers from the Music Bureau, waiting to perform in response to the banquet’s festivities,” a eunuch at the door explained with a smile.
Qin Shi’san-lang nodded. Just as they were speaking, an official from the Music Bureau hurried over, leading a group of performers. Most of them were young girls who would be performing the “stepping dance” and singing.
As Qin Shi’san-lang turned to leave, he noticed a female performer at the very end of the group bowing to him. She looked somewhat familiar, so he paused.
The performer didn’t say a word. After bowing, she straightened up, kept her head down, and continued into the hall.
“It’s Lady Zhu,” Qin Shi’san-lang recalled aloud.
The female performer, adorned with hairpins and pearls and dressed in exquisite dance attire, stopped in her tracks. She turned back and offered him a smile, then bowed once more.
For imperial banquets and sacrificial ceremonies, besides the palace’s own court performers, skilled artists from the Music Bureau were also selected. Not just anyone could be chosen for such occasions – especially not adult female performers. The criteria were extremely strict, and maintaining a pure and untarnished reputation was the most basic requirement. However, it was rare for courtesans to preserve their innocence for long, particularly those who were exceptionally beautiful. Those who managed to retain their purity often did so at the cost of being less striking in appearance. Those with exceptional skills were often older, while the younger ones tended to be less refined in song and dance. In short, it was difficult to excel in both aspects.
I simply believe that no matter what one does, one should strive to be the best.
Qin Shi’san-lang remembered these words and couldn’t help but smile faintly.
“Lady Zhu, you have indeed become the best,” he said.
Lady Zhu clearly understood what he meant. She seemed slightly surprised that Qin Shi’san-lang remembered her words, but soon she smiled again, curtsied once more, and without saying a word, turned and entered the hall with her head bowed.
Strive to be the best in whatever you do – that’s what makes life meaningful.
Qin Shi’san-lang smiled to himself and walked away.
Although the Second Prince had faced misfortune before the New Year, sorrow must eventually be set aside, life must go on, and ancestral traditions could not be easily altered. Thus, this year’s New Year festivities proceeded without interruption. Accompanied by court music, the palace’s New Year banquet commenced. Pepper-infused wine was continuously carried in, and the sounds of singing, music, and poetic recitations filled the air without pause.
The sky had grown completely bright.
The sounds of firecrackers had faded away, replaced by the serene chimes of bells and chanting from the Taoist temple down the mountain, adding to the tranquility.
Footsteps sounded from behind. Duke Jin’an turned and saw Cheng Jiao-niang approaching.
“Why are you up so early?” he asked.
“I slept through the night,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
“You didn’t even stay up to celebrate the New Year’s Eve,” Duke Jin’an said with a light laugh. No wonder she had excused herself after dinner, leaving only her maids and attendants to keep watch with his people. He had thought she was avoiding them – turns out she had simply gone to sleep.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
“I rested yesterday afternoon. Though I didn’t sleep last night, I’m not tired now,” Duke Jin’an replied. “Thank you for the tea soup – Liu Ge’er slept very soundly. I checked on him earlier, and he’s still asleep.”
Cheng Jiao-niang offered a slight nod in acknowledgment. Without another word, she pulled up her hood and began to walk away.
“Where are you going?” Duke Jin’an asked quickly.
“I’m going for a walk,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Still walking? She walks when she’s in a bad mood – does that mean she’s still in a bad mood?
Duke Jin’an frowned slightly and hurried to catch up. The day before, preoccupied with his own thoughts, he hadn’t paid close attention. But now, as he looked at her, he could see that her expression was indeed different from before. Though her face remained as composed as ever, the desolation in her eyes was unmistakable.
This couldn’t be just because her family had abandoned her.
“Cheng Fang,” he called out.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned to look at him.
“What happened?” Duke Jin’an asked, gazing at her intently.
“My business,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
My business… Something happened, but it’s my own matter… So she won’t share it with anyone else?
Duke Jin’an took a few steps closer, wanting to offer comfort but unsure what to say.
“Look at me – I’m in such a pitiful state,” he said with a faint smile, pointing at himself. “Does it make you feel like the world isn’t so harsh after all?”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him and shook her head.
“I have it worse than you,” she said.
“I was separated from my parents since I was young. Even though I knew they had no choice, it’s precisely that helplessness that makes it even more tragic. I don’t even have anyone to direct my resentment toward,” Duke Jin’an continued. “I was just a child back then, but children are even more sensitive. Though your family may have neglected you, you still had your mother and your grandmother. And, I’m not mocking you – just reflecting – your condition as a child might have been a kind of blessing… No awareness, no pain, no fear, no terror. Not like me, so wretched, as if watching the guillotine fall, counting down to death in sheer dread and helplessness.”
Cheng Jiao-niang still shook her head.
“At least your family is still here,” she said. “I have it worse than you.”
“Being present physically means little if they don’t care. The one who truly mattered is gone,” Duke Jin’an replied with a sigh.
“You only lost one…” she began, then trailed off.
You only lost one person who cared, but I…
“I have it worse than you,” was all she finally said.
Duke Jin’an looked at her and suddenly laughed, his eyes glistening, his vision slightly blurred.
“Hey, are we really comparing who has it worse?” he said. “Even in something like this, we’re competing? The world truly is a harsh place.”
