“Fourth Young Master.”
In Jiang-zhou, Steward Cao was known for his arrogance and unchecked ways – so much so that even the Prefectural Office gave him leeway. Yet now, upon seeing Cheng Si-lang, he smiled, dismounted, and clasped his hands in a respectful salute.
Such deference was enough to make onlookers think they were seeing an illusion. After all, this was the same Steward Cao who ignored First Master Cheng himself, and who had even dared to throw out Second Madam Cheng.
Respect – this word had never seemed to exist when it came to the Cheng family. The sole exception was Cheng Si-lang.
“I’m fine, just taking a stroll. Has my cousin come back yet?” Cheng Si-lang asked.
Steward Cao shook his head.
“Don’t know how she’s faring outside… It’s nearly New Year already,” Cheng Si-lang continued.
“Fourth Young Master, no need to worry. Miss has always been well,” Steward Cao replied with a smile. “She even sent a letter last month, saying everything was safe and sound.”
Cheng Si-lang nodded.
“Then I’ll head back,” he said.
“Since you’ve come, why not come inside, sit for a while, and have a bowl of tea?” Steward Cao said with a smile, extending his invitation.
Cheng Si-lang was about to decline the invitation when a maid came running out from the alley.
“Fourth Young Master!” Chun Lan called out, her voice tinged with joy.
Because of Jin Ge’er’s mischief, Chun Lan had been driven out of Cheng Si-lang’s quarters. Jin Ge’er, reckless to the end, had gone straight to the Cheng household demanding that his parents be released as well.
Since when had a houseborn servant dared to make such brazen demands? First Madam Cheng had been furious and flatly refused. But in the end, First Master Cheng ordered their release.
“What’s the point of quarreling with a servant? It demeans your status,” he had said. “Isn’t the commotion already shameful enough, both inside and out?”
Thus, First Madam Cheng had no choice but to let them go. Jin Ge’er’s parents were assigned to work at the estate, and since Cheng Jiao-niang was away and did not need a maid’s attendance, Steward Cao sent Chun Lan to work at one of the shops instead.
It was Chun Lan’s first time stepping beyond the gates of the household to work outside. At first she had been filled with fear and unease. But since there was no way back to the North Cheng residence, and all thoughts of the Fourth Young Master had been cut off, she had no choice but to think about her own livelihood. Gritting her teeth, she persevered.
Half a year later, she had grown familiar with the work. Now, at the silk and cloth shop, she was considered quite capable – customers and workers alike called out to her as “Sister Chun Lan” whenever she came and went.
“Fourth Young Master, you’re here! Come inside and sit for a while,” she said happily, her voice trembling with excitement.
With both of them offering him such a heartfelt invitation, Cheng Si-lang did not stand on ceremony any longer and followed them in.
Back then, Cheng Ji’s old residence was no longer occupied by Cheng Jiao-niang. A new house had been completed in June, and it was Cheng Ji who oversaw the allocation of rooms. The largest and finest courtyard was reserved for Cheng Jiao-niang. Steward Cao didn’t stand on ceremony – he simply had the place tidied up, moved Cheng Jiao-niang’s belongings inside, and then took up residence himself in the outer courtyard with a newly purchased servant boy.
Neat blue bricks were laid across the front yard, swept spotless with not a trace of snow. The surrounding buildings were arranged with elegance and charm, and from within came bursts of laughter from time to time.
As they approached, a servant at the gate hurried forward to greet them.
“Steward Cao, Cheng Ping is here. He’s been waiting half the day for you,” the servant reported. Even before he had finished speaking, Cheng Ping stepped out from the gatehouse, grinning broadly in greeting.
Cheng Ji’s old residence had since been given to him. Cheng Ji, remembering what Cheng Jiao-niang had once said, had invited Cheng Ping to examine the site when the new house was being built. Cheng Ping had readily offered his advice on the feng shui, and in return Cheng Ji presented him with the old residence under the pretense of gratitude. But everyone knew full well that it was really on account of Cheng Jiao-niang’s influence.
Cheng Ping, however, showed no false modesty.
“The feng shui I arranged for you is first-rate. You can live here with peace of mind,” he said proudly, and without delay he packed up his bedding and moved straight into the house.
“In the past, whenever I invited you, you never came. So why show up today?” Steward Cao said with a smile.
“Steward Cao, I’ve thought of a little business for you,” Cheng Ping replied cheerfully, giving the divination flag in his hand a playful shake. “I hear you’re opening a new shop. The feng shui layout – I ought to calculate it for you.”
As he spoke, he held up a single finger.
“For just one copper coin.”
Steward Cao shook his head, chuckling.
“You really are a strange one,” he said, but still gave a casual nod. “Fine then – tomorrow I’ll come find you.”
Pleased, Cheng Ping made his farewells, but Steward Cao called him back again.
“If you’re so good at reading feng shui, why not take a look at my lady’s rooms? Is the arrangement there auspicious?” he asked.
Cheng Ping turned back with a grin.
“Your lady is a person without fate – I cannot read for her,” he said.
At that, Steward Cao spat twice in irritation and cursed at him to get lost.
Cheng Si-lang had already been welcomed inside. Standing in the courtyard, he looked up at the plaque hanging in the main hall.
Tai Ping.
“Was this sent from the capital?” he asked.
“No, it was a gift from Abbess Sun of Xuan-miao Temple,” Steward Cao replied with a smile. “I thought Miss would like the two characters for ‘Tai Ping,’ so I took it upon myself to hang it up.”
On Mount Xuan-miao there was the Tai Ping Temple; in the capital there was the Tai Ping Residence; it was even said that people there had once eaten “Tai Ping Buns.”
Tai Ping, “peace”—the Way of Heaven shows no favoritism; it always stands with goodness. Such is what is called Tai Ping.
“She should like it very much,” Cheng Si-lang said with a smile.
The two of them entered the main hall. Chun Lan brewed tea over the brazier, filling the room with warmth and the rich fragrance of steeping leaves. Outside, firecrackers crackled and laughter rang out, as the second year of Yonghe quietly made its entrance.
Though it could not compare with the capital, Jiang-zhou was still lively during the New Year. Crowds surged through the wide streets, and for many it was a perfect chance to make money. At dawn, Cheng Ping had taken his divination flag out onto the street. Yet even after wandering about until midday, not a single customer had come.
“You know why, don’t you?” a clerk from a nearby shop, who had grown familiar with him, leaned against the mounting stone and struck up idle chatter.
“Why?” Cheng Ping asked. He was never ashamed to seek advice.
“You’re charging too little,” the clerk said. “One copper coin? That’s far too cheap – it makes you look like you’ve no confidence. Haven’t you seen how others tell fortunes? One reading worth a thousand in gold – now that shows confidence, that has presence! Look at you, like some beggar on the street. Who would bother with you?”
The words had barely left his mouth when someone stepped up in front of the fortune-telling stand. Both the clerk and Cheng Ping jumped in surprise, staring at the newcomer.
It was a lady.
She wore a dark hooded cloak, the hood drawn low over her head, the edge lined with a circle of white rabbit fur that hid her face.
Then she reached up and lifted the hood slightly, revealing her features from within the ring of fur.
The clerk stood frozen, dumbstruck.
Wow. What a beauty.
Cheng Ping leapt up in astonishment.
“Lady Cheng – you’ve returned!” he exclaimed.
Cheng Jiao-niang regarded him calmly and gave a small nod.
“Yes, I’ve come back. I just entered the city,” she said. Before Cheng Ping could reply, she went on, “I’m very tired. The moment I stepped through the city gates and walked along the street, I caught sight of you at once… and I was so weary I couldn’t take another step.”
As she spoke, her eyes reddened faintly.
The shop clerk was dumbfounded, staring wide-eyed at the young lady. What – what had she just said?
Caught sight of you at once…
The clerk’s gaze slid sidelong toward Cheng Ping.
This beggar-like fellow… could it be? Could he really have won the favor of such a beautiful young lady?
Cheng Ping was momentarily taken aback, but having once witnessed this young lady break down in sobs and lose all composure, he wasn’t truly surprised. He quickly calmed himself.
So – the knot in her heart had flared up again.
He sat back down and gave a faint smile.
“Tired, are you? If you’re tired, then sit and rest a while,” he said, hastily pushing over a small stool from beside his feet.
Cheng Jiao-niang, true to his words, sat down.
Around her, Ban Qin and the attendants subtly yet firmly formed a barrier, shielding her from the surging crowd so that no one might bump into her.
Cheng Ping looked at the young lady, hesitating for a moment.
“Does Steward Cao know you’ve returned?” he asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head.
“I’ve traveled to so many places. I went all through Liang-zhou,” she said. “I never stopped for even a moment – I searched every village, every hamlet. But I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t.”
She was on the verge of another fit. Cheng Ping quickly sat down as well, fixing his gaze on her.
“All things follow fate. If you cannot find it, then the time simply hasn’t come. Don’t force it,” he said.
“Don’t force it?” Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him. “I can’t accept that. I can’t.”
Faced with the depth of her gaze, Cheng Ping found himself momentarily at a loss for words. It was that same look of despair again.
“In this world, everything is governed by destiny. Disbelief, unwillingness – those only bring suffering upon yourself,” he said at last, drawing a deep breath. “My lady, while we live in this world, it’s best to seize the moment and find joy.”
Cheng Jiao-niang gave a faint smile.
“Seize the moment? How could I ever feel joy?” she murmured slowly, tears sliding down from the corners of her eyes.
“That, my lady, is something only you can resolve. No one else can help you,” Cheng Ping said, shaking his head.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him for a moment, then rose to her feet and left. Ban Qin and the others hurried after her.
Her sudden arrival and equally sudden departure left the shop clerk feeling as if he had just dreamed it all. Snapping back to his senses, he grabbed Cheng Ping by the sleeve.
“Who was that? Who was she?” he demanded over and over.
“She is a lady of my clan,” Cheng Ping answered, shaking him off. He gazed in the direction she had gone, his brow furrowing with a trace of worry. “That lady truly is rather pitiful…”
The clerk gave a derisive snort, eyeing Cheng Ping up and down.
“Pitiful? Who’s pitiful, her or you? Look at you – you’re dressed worse than her attendants,” he scoffed.
“Whether a person is pitiful or not isn’t measured by clothes, but by the heart,” Cheng Ping replied, shaking his head. His eyes remained fixed on Cheng Jiao-niang, whose figure seemed all the more desolate as it receded into the press of the crowd.
Suddenly, she stopped, turned around, and strode quickly back toward him.
Cheng Ping instinctively took a step back.
“I would like to ask you for advice on something,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, looking at him.
There it was again – that respectful attitude. It meant her emotions had already steadied.
Cheng Ping pulled at the corner of his mouth in a half-smile.
“I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare. Go ahead, tell me,” he said.
“If you knew someone would hurt you in the future, how would you prevent that harm?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked, fixing her gaze on him.
