In this world, people vie for wealth and status, and contend in talent and prestige. Everyone wants to trample on others to elevate themselves. So this kind of competition over who is more wretched and miserable is truly bizarre.
Cheng Jiao-niang also laughed.
“Fang Bocong,” she said, “so you must understand that in this world, you are not the only one who suffers, and you are not the only one facing hardships. This is how it is for everyone. As long as you are human, it is unavoidable.”
“So, Cheng Fang, don’t be sad,” Duke Jin’an said, looking at her with a faint smile.
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head.
“I’m not sad. Sadness isn’t something to fear. Being able to feel sadness means you still exist,” she said. “What is truly fearsome is not hardship itself, but the inability to overcome it.”
Duke Jin’an smiled, reached out his hand, hesitated for a moment, and then gently patted her shoulder before quickly withdrawing it. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked ahead.
Cheng Jiao-niang followed closely behind.
When Ban Qin rushed out, draped in her cloak, the two figures were already far ahead on the mountain path, one following the other.
“Steward Cao! Steward Cao!” she called out anxiously.
Steward Cao responded from nearby.
“Did anyone follow them? Are those people… still around?” Ban Qin asked in a hushed tone, her voice tinged with unease as she glanced around.
Steward Cao nodded.
“Someone is keeping an eye on them. Don’t worry,” he said. “Miss is right – there’s no need to fear. If those people intended to act, they would have done so by now.”
Ban Qin nodded and hurriedly ran to catch up.
As noon approached, the mountain path was crowded with carriages and horses. Abbess Sun led all the members of the temple to stand by the roadside, their expressions filled with sorrow.
Ban Qin presented a prescription
“This is a soothing herbal tea,” said Cheng Jiao-niang. “Although I cannot cure his illness, this tea can be used daily to help ease his restlessness.”
Duke Jin’an nodded, and an attendant beside him stepped forward to receive it.
“How long will you be in Liang-zhou?” he asked.
“It is not yet certain,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Can I write to you?
But she probably doesn’t even know where she’ll be staying.
Can you write to me?
Yet how could a letter reach deep within the palace?
In the end, Duke Jin’an simply nodded.
“Have a safe journey,” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang curtsied in return.
“Have a safe journey,” she replied.
Duke Jin’an turned and walked a few steps, then paused and glanced back.
“Cheng Fang,” he said with a smile, “actually, I suppose I came mostly because I wanted to see you.”
Without waiting for Cheng Jiao-niang to respond, he strode away.
Mostly because I wanted to see you…
In times of sorrow and hardship, it’s comforting to have someone you long to see and can actually meet.
Ban Qin couldn’t help but smile faintly. Though the moment was bittersweet, at least there was still a reason to smile.
Just as Duke Jin’an was about to board the carriage, the Second Prince jumped down from it. Laughing gleefully, he toddled unsteadily along the road. The attendants hurriedly moved to catch him.
“Let him run. I’ll follow,” the Duke said. True to his word, he did not board the carriage but strode after the child instead.
“Liu Ge’er, slow down. There’s no need to rush.”
Watching the two figures – one walking, the other running – move along the road one after the other, with carriages, horses, and attendants clamoring close behind, Cheng Jiao-niang also turned away.
“Miss,” Abbess Sun stepped forward promptly, her expression filled with reluctance.
“Whenever you return, the Tai Ping Temple will always be kept ready for you, every single day.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded in gratitude as Ban Qin assisted her into the carriage.
With a rumble, the carriage and horses headed west. Abbess Sun remained standing by the roadside until they disappeared from view.
Ten miles beyond the city, Ban Qin lifted the carriage curtain, and Steward Cao immediately urged his horse closer.
“Cao Gui, you should turn back now. However long the farewell, it still must end,” said Cheng Jiao-niang.
Steward Cao’s face was filled with hesitation.
“Miss, those people are still following us,” he whispered.
“It’s alright,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “If they intended to take action, they would have done so long ago. I suspect they are reluctant to stir up trouble unless necessary.”
Steward Cao nodded in acknowledgment. He glanced at the vast, empty wilderness road on the first day of the new year, where their lonely traveling party stood out starkly against the desolate backdrop – a sight that felt somewhat bleak no matter how one looked at it.
“Miss, please allow me to accompany you further. I truly cannot rest easy seeing you depart like this,” he urged.
Cheng Jiao-niang had reclaimed her dowry. Since she was about to embark on a long journey and could not manage the properties herself, she entrusted Steward Cao with full authority to oversee their operations to prevent them from falling into neglect. When Steward Cao first learned of this decision, he was both thrilled and apprehensive.
He was thrilled because the lady had granted him such significant responsibility. He had personally taken charge of inventorying the two shops and two estates, so he was well aware of their considerable profits. Yet, he felt apprehensive about suddenly becoming the chief manager of these four enterprises – a role he had never dared to envision even during his time with the Zhou family.
Later, however, he felt somewhat reassured when he recalled Ban Qin, the young maid managing the three businesses in the capital.
That girl is much younger than me. Surely, I can’t be less capable than a child?
Still, the thought of staying behind instead of accompanying the lady to attend to her needs along the journey left him uneasy.
These enterprises had all been acquired through the lady’s careful planning and efforts. While she journeyed and endured hardships, they would remain behind, comfortably managing the businesses. No matter how he looked at it, the arrangement felt improper.
“Improper?” Cheng Jiao-niang smiled. “As you said, all of this was achieved through my planning, without relying on any of you. So even without you, I would still be able to manage and navigate things freely. What is there to worry about?”
Steward Cao gave an embarrassed laugh.
“By my side, the tasks you perform are all assigned by me. Whether it’s you or someone else doing them, there’s little difference,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, gesturing toward the other attendants nearby.
As she pointed in their direction, the attendants instinctively urged their horses forward, straightening their postures and puffing out their chests – as if silently shouting, “Look at me, look at me!”
Steward Cao couldn’t help but chuckle.
“They are all capable,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued, then turned her gaze back to Steward Cao. “But in my absence, someone is needed here – someone who can oversee operations, make decisions independently, dare to take charge, and yet not act recklessly.”
At this, Steward Cao instinctively straightened his back and lifted his head.
Me, me – she’s talking about me! She’s praising me!
“So, having you by my side is what would make me uneasy. You staying behind puts my mind at ease, and it should put yours at ease too,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Steward Cao, filled with emotion, straightened his expression and nodded solemnly.
“My lady, rest assured. I will not fail this mission,” he declared earnestly.
I must perform even better than that little maid in the capital.
With a faint smile, Ban Qin lowered the carriage curtain. Steward Cao turned and began giving final instructions to the attendants once more.
The attendants gathered around him with good-natured laughter.
“Steward Cao, you’re being too domineering! You’ve already secured your path to success – why block the way? The rest of us are still waiting for our chance to prove ourselves!”
“Exactly! Just relax and be the great steward you are. Don’t try to compete with us anymore!”
“Do a good job, and don’t let that young lady in the capital outshine you. Don’t embarrass us men!”
Steward Cao chuckled and retorted with a few lighthearted jabs.
“All of you, behave yourselves. Listen to the lady’s orders, and handle everything with efficiency and precision,” he said. “Leave the finances to me, and the safety of our people to you. Take care of yourselves – better days are ahead.”
And indeed, since following this lady, life had become truly fulfilling. There was no need to overthink or second-guess the master’s intentions. The freedom to act decisively and without hesitation was a satisfaction that money could never buy. With hearty laughter, they clasped hands and bid each other farewell.
The road stretched far into the distance, under a vast and clear sky.
In the courtyard, Grand Coordinator Gao raised his hand, and a falcon swooped down from the sky to land on his arm.
“So, there was truly no cure?” he asked, turning to the attendant behind him.
“Indeed. That lady said that Prince Qing’s illness is not fatal and that he is actually quite well. However, treating his cognitive impairment – caused by the fall – falls outside her practice’s rules, so she declined to treat him,” the attendant replied.
“Well, well. She certainly sticks to her principles,” Grand Coordinator Gao said with a laugh. He handed the falcon to a servant, wiped his hands, and began walking.
“The Duke was absolutely furious – he nearly struck the lady. He demanded to know whether she refused treatment due to her rules or because she simply couldn’t cure him,” the attendant added, embellishing the story. “But the lady showed no fear. She stated firmly that her rules exist precisely because she cannot treat such conditions. It’s her inability to treat them that established the rules in the first place.”
Grand Coordinator Gao burst into laughter upon hearing this and nodded in acknowledgment.
“That’s exactly how these so-called ‘divine doctors’ or ‘charlatans’ operate – they always find a way to extricate themselves. In the end, they always have an explanation that justifies their actions,” he remarked. “But sticking to rules is good. It’s reassuring. Where did she go?”
“She’s heading to Liangzhou. It seems she’s looking for someone,” the attendant replied.
Grand Coordinator Gao shook his head with a hint of displeasure.
“These are just willful, self-important children. Roaming around recklessly during the New Year – always thinking home isn’t good enough, throwing tantrums as if they could sever all ties and return every ounce of flesh and bone,” he remarked. “Families with such children must have terrible headaches.”
The attendant murmured in agreement.
“What about our people…?” he asked for instructions.
“Recall them. We’re not the Cheng family – why should we bother escorting their children?” Grand Coordinator Gao said with a laugh.
The attendant promptly acknowledged the order.
“Deploy all available hands to the Prince’s side. Ensure his protection is thorough,” Grand Coordinator Gao instructed, sighing. “They never stop to consider how deeply distressed His Majesty and Her Majesty would be if anything happened to him abroad. They’re already burdened with grief – make sure nothing, not even a single hair, is harmed on those children.”
Just as he showed compassion toward weak animals and household pets, Grand Coordinator Gao had always been tender-hearted toward the vulnerable and the young.
The attendant acknowledged the order and withdrew.
Grand Coordinator Gao clasped his hands behind his back, paced in measured steps, and hummed the tune of “Good Things Will Soon Arrive ” as he leisurely went on his way.
On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, the Lantern Festival was celebrated with great fervor not only in the capital but also in every prefecture, county, and village across the land.
In this small town, a lantern mountain had been erected. Though it couldn’t compare to the exquisitely crafted displays of the capital, it was sure to glow brilliantly once lit at night.
Many children laughed and played around the lantern mountain. The Second Prince, held by Duke Jin’an’s side, also babbled excitedly, eager to join them.
Duke Jin’an led him closer.
The Second Prince circled the lantern structure with gleeful curiosity, then reached out to tug at it.
The shopkeeper nearby winced in distress. Though he could tell from the attendants and the demeanor of the two figures that they were of noble status, he still stepped forward to intervene.
“Sir, we need this for tonight. Many people have worked hard for half a month to prepare it,” he said tactfully.
Duke Jin’an nodded, gently pulling the Second Prince back and soothing him in a low voice.
The people around watched as the child stumbled along unsteadily, drooling, grinning vacantly, with a dull and vacant expression – clearly recognizing him as intellectually disabled. Seeing the teenage youth tending to him with such gentle care, they couldn’t help but feel curious.
“This child…” the shopkeeper couldn’t resist asking.
“This child is simple-minded,” Duke Jin’an replied.
Such a blunt response left the shopkeeper somewhat embarrassed.
“He may be simple-minded, but he is still my brother,” Duke Jin’an said calmly, a faint smile on his face as he took the Second Prince’s hand. “Liu Ge’er, let’s go further ahead. There’s even more to see up front.”
The child babbled incoherently, unclear whether he understood or not, and toddled unsteadily forward.
“To care for a simple-minded child so well and treat him with such affection – I’ve truly never seen anything like it,” the shopkeeper murmured, shaking his head in admiration as he watched them walk away.
The town was small, and they soon reached the end of the street. The Second Prince seemed tired and plopped down on the ground, whining and babbling, refusing to go any further.
“Young master, shall we switch to a boat or continue by carriage?” an attendant approached to ask.
Duke Jin’an glanced ahead, then looked down at the child on the ground. A thought seemed to strike him, and he crouched down.
“Liu Ge’er,” he called.
The child, of course, paid no attention and continued playing with his fingers.
“Don’t you love looking at maps?” Duke Jin’an said, taking his hand. “How would you like to see what real mountains and rivers look like?”
