The bustle on the street was usually nothing more than surface bustle, never reaching into the deep courtyards of the great mansions. But this time, they learned of it faster than ever before.
The last firework in the sky had long since faded, and only then did many of those standing within their grand residences reluctantly draw back their gazes.
“Master, master, it’s clear now – we’ve found out what happened!”
Soon, shouts like these from servants echoed through the inner quarters of many households.
“It’s her…”
Chen Shao, after hearing the servant’s words, went from surprise to dread, then to a bitter smile – his expression shifting like the four seasons. In the end, however, he said nothing more than that single line, and then sat there motionless.
Madam Chen, on the other hand, had only one unchanging emotion from beginning to end.
“She’s really come, Master – look, Lady Cheng has really come.” She repeated the words, somewhat excited.
“Yes, she really has come,” Chen Shao replied.
He knew she would not fail to come.
If nothing happened, that was one thing. But once something did, this lady had never once retreated – not the slightest hesitation – always lifting her foot and stepping forward.
“But Master, you see – you really were worrying too much. For her to be able to arrange all this shows she came quite some time ago. Yet she didn’t go looking for anyone to speak about it, only quietly bore her grief and laid those people to rest,” Madam Chen continued, letting out a sigh.
Chen Shao turned his head toward her, his expression odd.
“Quietly?” he said.
This was called quietly?
Such ‘quietly’ could scare a person to death!
In fact, it really could take lives!
Chen Shao exhaled. He knew that whenever this lady made a move, it was bound to cost lives.
Yes – she truly hadn’t gone to anyone, hadn’t begged anyone. On the contrary, at this very moment, it was others who had sought her out, who owed her a debt of favor.
Madam Chen was still chattering on about preparing some funeral offerings to send over, but Chen Shao could no longer take in a single word. He lifted his head and gazed toward the doorway, as if he could already hear the commotion drifting in from the street.
And this was only today. By tomorrow, the day after, when the excitement spread wider, carried from mouth to mouth, exaggerated and fermented…
“Attend me,” he called out, raising his voice and cutting off Madam Chen mid-sentence.
A servant hurried in from outside in response.
“Go and see whether Lu Si’an has left yet,” he said.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Old Master Chen reached out and patted Chen Dan-niang, who was still standing under the veranda, staring dreamily at the sky.
“All right, all right, Dan-niang – careful or your neck will start to ache,” he said with a laugh.
Chen Dan-niang reluctantly drew back her gaze.
“Grandfather, Grandfather, let’s go quickly and buy some – buy fireworks like that!” she cried eagerly.
Old Master Chen chuckled and shook his head.
“Not everything in this world is for sale,” he said.
Chen Dan-niang looked at him in puzzlement.
“There are some things you can ask for, but that doesn’t mean you can buy them,” Old Master Chen said with a smile, patting her head. “Wait a while – I will take you to ask for them.”
Although she couldn’t understand the first part, she understood the last sentence well enough, and at once nodded happily.
“I’ll go tell my sisters!” she said, running off in delight.
Old Master Chen watched his granddaughter run away with a smile. He then lifted his gaze once more to the sky, before turning back toward the room. Upon the folding screen standing in the center, the once faint circles and dots had grown more and more numerous, now standing out so clearly that the Six-Panel Penglai Landscape Screen had lost its original elegance.
“This time… I wonder how many more will be added,” he murmured with a faint smile.
That night, a heavy rain fell over the capital, and the city felt all the fresher for it come morning.
The paper offerings on the streets had already been swept away the day before, and with the heavy rain washing over them through the night, the streets looked as good as new – as though nothing had happened yesterday at all.
But that was only how it seemed.
People walking along the road soon noticed something different.
“What are those people doing?” a passerby asked curiously, pointing off to one side. “Are they holding some kind of memorial rite?”
It was a burial ground, not a small one, but it looked rather simple: a few fresh mounds, a few stone markers, and some newly planted trees. What was strange, however, was that there were many people gathered around the gravesite, with some even lying flat on the ground.
“Oh, they’re not holding a memorial – they’re drinking wine,” someone said with a laugh.
The passersby were even more astonished. Drinking? With their noses?
They looked up and around.
“Where’s the wine?” they asked.
A man gestured in a circle all around them.
“Here – everywhere,” he said.
The passersby grew even more confused at that. Were the people of the capital all mad?
“You don’t know, do you?”
More of those seemingly crazed folk came over.
“Something big happened in the capital yesterday…”
“What big thing?” More curious onlookers gathered round to ask.
“Do you know whose graves these are?”
“…What does that have to do with wine?”
“…Just tell us about the wine already…”
“To talk about the wine, we have to start with these graves…”
At that moment, Tai Ping Residence, Immortal’s Abode, and even Yichun Hall were all packed with people trying to buy wine.
“Never mind whether there’s any wine to sell – you lot shouldn’t be coming to our pharmacy to buy it in the first place!” The manager of Yichun Hall said with a helpless laugh.
“Then where is it sold?”
“I only had one bowl yesterday – just one bowl! After that, no other wine in this world is drinkable to me. Everything else is bland and tasteless…”
“You at least had a whole bowl. I only got to lick a few drops…”
The same conversations were, of course, echoing over and over again at Immortal’s Abode and Tai Ping Residence, until the noise nearly made business impossible.
The managers of both establishments had no choice but to step forward and try to calm the crowd.
“Everyone, let me say it again – this wine was not brewed here. We don’t have any.”
“Didn’t you say it was brewed by your head owner?”
“Yes, it was brewed by our head owner, but we don’t sell it.”
“Why not?”
“Because this wine isn’t for sale. Our head owner brewed it especially for our masters.”
“But what does that have to do with selling it?”
Manager Wu only smiled and shook his head. Looking at the noisy, impatient crowd, he raised his hand for quiet.
“Everyone, everyone,” he said with a genial smile, waiting until the room fell silent before continuing, “Specially made. One of a kind. For them alone. If it were to be sold, what would be the point of calling it unique?”
The entire crowd stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Just like that? They really won’t sell?”
Madam Zhou asked.
The maids before her all nodded in unison.
“Yes, yes – no matter how many people crowd around their doors to ask, that’s always the answer.”
“Plenty of restaurants have even gone to them hoping to place orders for their wine, but they were all turned away as well.”
Madam Zhou held her teacup in hand, dazed, then suddenly let out a laugh.
“Is that wine really so good?” she asked.
“Good – very good! People are already offering one guan per bowl,” one maid said quickly.
“No, that was yesterday’s price – today it’s already risen to two guan,” another maid interjected anxiously.
Madam Zhou spat out a mouthful of tea.
“Two guan! She really dares to ask such a price! As if she were selling lives!” she exclaimed.
“Madam, it isn’t that she set the price – it’s that people are fighting to pay it,” the maids explained.
Still, it was no different from selling lives. She hadn’t asked for any price at all, yet others were weeping and clamoring to thrust their money at her…
Twenty thousand guan!
Twenty thousand guan!
It was as if Madam Zhou could still hear the shouts that had once echoed in her courtyard.
She pressed a hand against her chest.
Truly insane. And then she recalled the scene the maids had described from that day… Even setting aside the wine given out on the streets, just the jars smashed before the graves numbered at least a dozen…
One pot worth two guan…
Madam Zhou closed her eyes.
How was it that with this girl, making money came so easily? And yet she never treated money as money…
Just a few rough country fellows – what was the point of recognizing them as sworn brothers? Recognized or not, so be it. But to make them “masters,” let them be. Dead is dead. And then to bury them with such pomp…
If that wasn’t foolish, what was?
“And this time? Did she sell it?” Madam Zhou exhaled and asked.
If she had, at least all that ostentation wouldn’t have been in vain. The name of that wine would already be made…
The maids shook their heads.
“Madam, they still said the same: no matter how much money, not for sale. A thousand gold wouldn’t buy it. If they say they won’t sell, then they won’t sell,” one of them said firmly.
Say she won’t, and she truly won’t…
Madam Zhou gave a cold hum.
“But – though it’s not for sale, it doesn’t mean no one will ever taste it again,” another maid quickly added, as if recalling something.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“The manager said, when the death anniversaries of their masters come around, the wine will still be given out,” the maid explained.
…
“…So you’re saying we can only drink that wine when the anniversaries of those men come around?”
In a teahouse, a crowd of people sat together, laughing and chatting noisily.
“Yes, yes – only when this time of year comes again.”
“No, no, you’re wrong. Not next year at this time. The Five Heroes of Maoyuan Mountain died in May. Even though they were buried now, their anniversaries should still be in May.”
“You remember that clearly?”
“Of course I remember it clearly! I’ll go home and carve that date into my heart!”
“So that means we get to wait three months less – what luck!”
“How do you even know that?”
“My uncle’s cousin’s wife’s younger sister’s maternal uncle’s grandson works at Tai Ping Residence…”
“Strange, isn’t it? Who turns down money like that?”
“Do they look like they need money? Think who we’re talking about – Tai Ping Residence! Yichun Hall! Immortal’s Abode!”
“…And don’t forget the divine doctor – one life worth ten thousand guan…”
“Wait, we were talking about wine – how did this turn into the divine doctor?”
“…What, you really don’t know about something this big? Shows how out of touch you are. Speaking of that divine doctor, well, that was ages ago…”
“Hold on, weren’t we talking about the divine doctor? How did this get back to Maoyuan Mountain? What’s Maoyuan Mountain?”
“Maoyuan Mountain – that’s where the five heroes were killed on the northwestern battlefield…”
“…This is too confusing! Can someone explain it properly? Today’s tea money is on me!”
“I will! I will!”
At once the hall grew even more boisterous.
Qin Shi’san-lang tossed a few coins onto the table and stood up. Looking at Zhou Liu-lang, who was still sitting upright across from him as if entranced by the conversation, he reached out and patted him.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Zhou Liu-lang, interrupted, was clearly displeased.
“You go,” he said.
Qin Shi’san-lang chuckled.
“You heard it, didn’t you? Don’t worry,” he said.
Zhou Liu-lang lifted his teacup without responding. Qin Shi’san-lang took a few steps toward the door, then turned back.
“I know – you can never hear enough when people talk about her…” he said with a low laugh.
Zhou Liu-lang gave a derisive snort.
“But I’m going to see her now. Do you want to come along?” Qin Shi’san-lang said with a smile.
“Waiter, more tea!” Zhou Liu-lang called, raising his cup.
The shop boy, who had been leaning against the counter out front listening to the lively chatter, only came back to himself after being called twice. He hurried over with the teapot.
Qin Shi’san-lang laughed and stepped out.
Outside on the street, the crowds bustled. Not far away, groups of people had gathered; among them one would be speaking loudly, while the others listened with rapt excitement. Though the words weren’t clear, from the way the speaker gestured and pointed down the street, it was easy to guess he was talking yet again about Maoyuan Mountain.
Qin Shi’san-lang took the reins from the servant with a smile and swung himself onto his horse. Before leaving, he cast another glance at the teahouse. Through the straight wooden windowpanes, he could see Zhou Liu-lang still sitting at the table inside.
The young man was intently focused on a tea guest who was standing and speaking animatedly, gesturing as he went. Like everyone else, Zhou Liu-lang’s face showed by turns astonishment, delight, wonder, and sorrow, as if he were hearing these tales for the very first time, savoring every word.
Qin Shi’san-lang smiled faintly. Just as he was about to spur his horse forward, another servant came hurrying from afar.
“Young master, young master–” The servant reached him, bent over, and whispered a few words, panting for breath.
Qin Shi’san-lang was taken aback for an instant, but soon his expression eased.
“How fast,” he murmured. “No wonder she says she only needs to do what she ought to do – everything else, there will always be others rushing to do for her.”
After that day’s funeral procession stirred up such commotion, it seemed as though Cheng Jiao-niang never knew of it at all. Once her brothers were laid to rest, she simply returned to the residence at Yudai Bridge, and life went on as before.
At the break of dawn, the sound of a child’s cries rose in the courtyard.
“Is he hungry?” the maid asked curiously.
Lady Huang, the wife of Fan Jianglin, soothed the child while shaking her head.
“No – he just hasn’t slept enough and is fussing,” she said.
As the two were speaking, footsteps sounded under the veranda.
“Miss!” the maid turned her head and called out happily.
Lady Huang also quickly looked up. At the doorway beneath the veranda stood a woman in plain robes, quietly watching them. Lady Huang immediately lowered her head again, still not daring to take a clear look at her face.
“Did we… disturb you?” she asked uneasily, rocking the child faster in her arms to soothe him.
But the motion only made the child cry louder.
A sheen of sweat broke out across Lady Huang’s forehead, and she herself was on the verge of tears.
“Children are just prone to crying – what’s so disturbing about that?” Cheng Jiao-niang said as she stepped forward.
“Don’t be afraid.” The maid turned her head again, smiling at the flustered Lady Huang. “Our lady isn’t difficult – set your mind at ease. This is your home now.”
Lady Huang forced a smile and glanced around.
She was a woman raised in a fortress-town of the northwest. Following her father, who worked as a bookkeeper, she had learned a few characters and could be considered somewhat knowledgeable. But no matter how knowledgeable she was, she never imagined one day she would have a home in the capital, with a sister-in-law…
And that sister-in-law was someone who could bring the entire capital out into the streets to attend a funeral.
Lady Huang pressed a hand to her chest and patted the child in her arms.
She had been so frightened that, even now, she still hadn’t gotten a clear look at what her sister-in-law actually looked like.
“Back then I had just married Da-lang, and Seventh Brother’s wife and I used to wonder what our sister-in-law was like. We thought and thought, but could never picture her. Seventh Brother said she was like an immortal…” Lady Huang said as she rocked the child in her arms. “At that time we kept thinking of when we’d finally meet her, imagining all seven of us. Who would have thought, in the end, only I would come…”
Tears shimmered in the maid’s eyes as she smiled. Thinking of something, she stood up.
“Madam, you still seem reserved here at home. Let me take you to see the rooms where the young masters lived. They’ve all been kept just as they were when they left – everything arranged the same, their clothes still there.”
Lady Huang rose as well, still rocking the child in her arms.
“Come then, let’s go look at your father’s room,” she said.
In the rear courtyard, there was a thrum as an arrow struck the bullseye of the target, quivering in place.
Cheng Jiao-niang raised the bow in her hand and also aimed at the straw target.
“You still practice archery every day?” Fan Jianglin asked, setting down his own bow.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded, loosing the arrow in her hand.
“Good!” Fan Jianglin clapped his hands in praise.
Cheng Jiao-niang shook the bow in her hand toward him.
Fan Jianglin looked at her in puzzlement.
“One stone (roughly 120 catties),” Cheng Jiao-niang said, smiling slightly, a hint of pride in her tone.
Fan Jianglin stared at her for a moment, then broke into a grin.
“Good, good,” he said with a nod.
Cheng Jiao-niang steadied herself again, drew her bow, and sent arrow after arrow flying.
Fan Jianglin stood quietly to the side, watching.
Good, good. At times his vision seemed to blur, as though he could see Xu Maoxiu and the others standing nearby, smiling as they too offered praise.
“Good!” he called out loudly, clapping his hands. “But still not steady enough.”
Cheng Jiao-niang turned her head toward him, gave a faint smile and a nod, then faced forward again, drawing her bow and loosing another arrow.
When Qin Shi’san-lang arrived, Cheng Jiao-niang was practicing her calligraphy.
“Please wait just a moment, young master – it will be finished soon,” the maid said with a smile, stepping aside at the doorway to invite him in.
“You’ve leisure to stay at home these days? Even the head steward isn’t busy anymore?” Qin Shi’san-lang teased her.
“Miss told me to rest a few days,” the maid replied with a smile.
Qin Shi’san-lang straightened his robe.
“Since Eldest Master is here, naturally I must go pay my respects,” he said solemnly.
Through the opened doorway, one could see Fan Jianglin and Qin Shi’san-lang seated opposite one another in conversation, looking anything but unfamiliar. Lady Huang felt both surprised and curious.
“Who is that young gentleman?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“That’s the young master of the Qin family from the Princess’s residence,” the little maid said.
The Princess’s residence!
Lady Huang nearly stopped breathing, pressing a hand to her chest.
Hadn’t she just seen that young master meet her husband as an equal? Heavens above!
Just as Lady Huang was still in shock, she saw the study door open and Cheng Jiao-niang step out.
“Sister, I’ve told Young Master Qin in detail about what happened in the northwest,” Fan Jianglin said, his tone calm and open.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded and sat down.
“There is nothing in our affairs that cannot be spoken of,” she said.
“Then I fear that you will soon have to speak of your brothers to even more people,” Qin Shi‘’san-lang said.
Both Cheng Jiao-niang and Fan Jianglin looked toward him – her expression unchanged, his tinged with puzzlement.
“Last night, someone submitted a memorial impeaching Jiang Wenyuan,” Qin Shi’san-lang said.
…
When Attendant Scholar Gao was summoned, he had been lingering in the quarters of a concubine, and so he came with some displeasure.
Since today was not a grand court assembly, he had been too lazy to attend the regular session, watching Chen Shao and the others preside. Though Chen Shao’s expression in recent days had been a great delight to watch, even delicacies grow tiresome after being served too often. So he had excused himself and chosen to rest at home.
“Impeached? So what if someone was impeached? Who among us hasn’t been impeached a dozen times over? Anyone who hasn’t would be embarrassed to even call himself a minister of the Secretariat. To take these spittle-soaked memorials seriously – are you all living your lives backwards?”
Attendant Scholar Gao rapped irritably on the table before him as he spoke.
The two officials kneeling opposite him had their brows furrowed tight, faces drawn with tension.
“My lord, this time is different,” they said.
“How different? Who was it? One of Chen Shao’s clique again? And what did the impeachment accuse him of? Treason? Collusion with traitors?” Attendant Scholar Gao barked.
“It was Lu Si’an,” the two ground out between clenched teeth.
Lu Si’an?
“This bastard still hasn’t rolled out of the capital?” Attendant Scholar Gao asked after a moment’s pause.
“He was supposed to have left already…” one official said. “We’d already had the Ministry of Personnel press him to take up his post…”
“Enough, enough. The man’s as good as dead – what are you so afraid of?” Attendant Scholar Gao cut him off. But then he froze again. “No – that doesn’t make sense. How did he get an impeachment memorial submitted? He’s just a posted-out official now. Was this Chen Shao’s doing?”
Before the two could reply, Attendant Scholar Gao gave a cold laugh, flicking his sleeve with a wave of his hand.
“Well done. Overstepping bounds to deliver a memorial in private? Perfect – I’ll just send them all down to Nan-zhou together for company.” He laughed.
“My lord, no – this wasn’t Chen Shao’s doing. Lu Si’an slipped through a loophole at the post station,” one official said quickly. “He disguised it as a borderland urgent dispatch and delivered it straight into the Emperor’s hands.”
Attendant Scholar Gao shifted his posture, looking a bit puzzled.
“Is that bastard just tired of living and in a hurry to die?” he said. “Has he found something new to talk about?”
“Word from inside says the memorial accuses Jiang Wenyuan of belittling foreign enemies, deceiving the court, advising His Majesty without propriety, being unclear in rewards and punishments – stirring up resentment among the army and the people…” one official reported.
“Stop, stop, stop.” Attendant Scholar Gao cut him off, tilting his head to look at the two of them. “Has Lu Si’an gone mad?”
The two officials exchanged glances and shook their heads.
Attendant Scholar Gao suddenly slapped the table, making the two jump.
“If he’s not mad, then are you two idiots?” he barked. The temper he’d been holding back since being pulled from his lover’s arms finally burst out. “Because he poked into the matter of the northwest merits and rewards, His Majesty booted him out of the capital. And now he still dares to write an impeachment memorial again and talk about the northwest rewards – that’s a good thing. He’s courting death himself. What are you so scared of?”
The two officials sighed and leaned forward.
“My lord, this time he didn’t just submit an impeachment memorial – he also submitted a funeral procession painting,” they said. “A ‘Funeral Procession of Heroes Mourned by All the People,’ showing the whole city sending off its champions, ten thousand citizens crying out for justice.”
