After the palace banquet dispersed, though the official decrees of appointment and reward had not yet been issued, the Emperor’s words were as good as law – and he had made his proclamation before so many witnesses. Thus, the families of those who had distinguished themselves at the feast were already crowded with well-wishers, and congratulatory gifts were piling up at their gates.
“Where’s Liu-lang? Where’s Liu-lang?” Madam Zhou’s voice rang out across the courtyard. “The master asked him to greet the guests.”
“Madam, Madam – the doctor has arrived,” the maids called out.
“Who asked for a doctor? I’m looking for Liu-lang,” Madam Zhou said.
That day, Madam Zhou had fainted twice – once at the city gates when she saw her son Zhou Liu-lang marching past with a crossbow in hand, and again not long after she recovered, upon hearing that the emperor himself had bestowed a title upon him. Two collapses, one from shock and one from joy – so Master Zhou, worried, had summoned a doctor to examine her.
Madam Zhou brushed past the maids, striding quickly to the doorway. Under the afternoon sunlight, even with her makeup still smudged from earlier, she looked radiant and spirited.
“Young master hasn’t come back,” someone said. “No one’s seen him since the palace banquet ended.”
Madam Zhou paused for a moment, then suddenly smiled.
“He must have gone to visit his cousin,” she said with a laugh. Then she hurriedly began giving orders: “Quick, send some of the congratulatory gifts from our house over to Jiao Jiao as well – and ask if she’d like to come home for a few days… speak politely… don’t say too much… don’t chatter and annoy her…”
The servants answered one after another and went off in a hurry.
By then, Zhou Liu-lang had already arrived at the residence by Yudai Bridge. Fan Jianglin hadn’t returned home yet – he’d been pulled straight off by several fellow officers eager to celebrate at the archery yard – but the news of his reward had already reached his household. The courtyard had been decorated in festivity, and the guards, servants, and maids all wore bright smiles.
Lady Huang, holding her child, stood before the young man, feeling awkward and uneasy. Yet with no one else at home – and since she was, after all, the one everyone called “sister-in-law” – she had no choice but to come out and receive him.
In truth, it was hard to say who was the guest here, for the youth before her was none other than Lady Cheng’s own cousin.
“She went out right after you all left,” Lady Huang said.
“Where did she go?” Zhou Liu-lang asked.
Lady Huang shook her head.
That strange girl was never one to talk much with others. Zhou Liu-lang frowned, then suddenly seemed to realize something – his expression clearing in a flash. He turned on his heel and strode out, but just as he reached the door, another thought struck him. He turned back, his tone a little stiff.
“Sorry to trouble you,” he said quickly, tossing the words over his shoulder before Lady Huang could even react. Then he swung onto his horse and galloped off.
Lady Huang stood there watching the young man disappear in a cloud of dust before she finally came back to herself.
“How could I dare, how could I dare,” she murmured repeatedly.
The streets were packed with people, waves of chatter rolling through the crowd as everyone talked about the archery demonstration at the city gates.
“Such a huge bow…”
“What nonsense are you talking about? Did you even see it? It looked about the same size as any ordinary crossbow!”
“…Anyway, that arrow flew straight through a shield from so, so far away – like a blur!”
“…The emperor himself named it the Divine Arm Bow…”
“…I wish the Western bandits could see this weapon right now – just imagine them scared out of their wits, running for their lives…”
“…A bunch of generals are already fighting over who gets to lead the troops to battle… someone tell Jiang Wenyuan to hurry up and get lost, stop hogging all the glory…”
Pushing his way through the noisy crowd, Zhou Liu-lang rode straight out through the East Gate of the city. In the distance, he indeed spotted a carriage parked by the roadside, with several familiar guards standing nearby. He reined in his horse, hesitating for a moment, and was just about to move forward when someone called out to him.
Zhou Liu-lang turned his head and saw Qin Shi’san-lang standing by the roadside, waving at him with a grin.
“I really can’t tell whether your eyesight is good or terrible,” Qin Shi’san-lang said, smiling. “You can shoot an arrow clean through a shield from that far away, yet you can’t even spot such a handsome and elegant gentleman standing right in front of you.”
Zhou Liu-lang spat to the side.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, glaring at him.
“Probably not waiting for you,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied with a chuckle.
Zhou Liu-lang snorted and started walking again, ignoring him, but Qin Shi’san-lang reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t go over there,” he said.
Zhou Liu-lang frowned at him.
“I think she wants to be alone for a while,” Qin Shi’san-lang said, nodding in the direction of the carriage.
Zhou Liu-lang looked over and saw the girl sitting on the ground, carefully and intently chiseling the gravestone – each steady tap of hammer against stone ringing out ding, ding, dang, echoing straight into one’s heart.
He stopped walking and stood beside Qin Shi’san-lang.
“Congratulations,” Qin Shi’san-lang suddenly said.
Zhou Liu-lang’s expression stayed stiff.
“You really should learn to accept other people’s goodwill,” Qin Shi’san-lang sighed. “Someone’s kindness doesn’t cost you anything. Good intentions are rare in this world – you ought to cherish them.”
“Annoying,” Zhou Liu-lang muttered, then turned to glare at him. “The exams are next year – are you even planning to pass? You spend all day wandering about like this.”
Qin Shi’san-lang seemed not to have heard him at all, his eyes fixed on Cheng Jiao-niang in the distance.
Zhou Liu-lang lifted his foot and kicked at him, but Qin Shi’san-lang stepped aside to dodge.
“With a stupid question like that, I can only pretend I didn’t hear it,” he said with a grin.
Zhou Liu-lang snorted, about to retort, when the sound of galloping hooves came again from the main road. He turned his head and saw that it was Fan Jianglin.
Just like Zhou Liu-lang, Fan Jianglin’s gaze was fixed solely on Cheng Jiao-niang – he saw nothing and no one else, riding straight toward her.
“Master,” Ban Qin said with a bow and a gentle smile. “Congratulations.”
That word – congratulations – made Fan Jianglin’s eyes sting red. He strode quickly forward and looked at Cheng Jiao-niang, who had paused her chiseling to glance up at him.
“Sister,” he said. He wanted to say more, but in the end, only that single word came out.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled faintly.
“Brother, you’ll have a hard road ahead,” she said softly.
“As long as I’m alive, how could I fear hardship?” Fan Jianglin replied, his gaze falling upon the gravestone.
The characters “Xu Mao” had already been carved, but the “Xiu” was yet to begin.
Xu Maoxiu…
Fan Jianglin quickly knelt down beside her, bowed his head, and squeezed out two tears that fell into the soil. When he raised his head again, he forced a small smile.
“Let me help you,” he said, though he wasn’t sure what help he could offer.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Then you can pass me the tools,” she said.
Fan Jianglin answered softly, “All right,” and watched as Cheng Jiao-niang resumed her carving – stroke by slow stroke, each chisel mark far less fluid than writing, yet carrying a weight and gravity that writing could never hold.
“…I said everything just the way you taught me – didn’t miss a word. The Emperor was very pleased,” Fan Jianglin said.
“You only spoke the truth, nothing false. Naturally, that wouldn’t displease anyone,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Fan Jianglin nodded.
“…Young Master Zhou was promoted first, and then His Majesty asked me… oh, and also, the lady from the Chen family received a reward too – though I didn’t quite catch what it was… I was too busy talking with those officials…”
As the steady ding, ding, dang of the chisel echoed through the air, Fan Jianglin rambled on about the day’s events. Cheng Jiao-niang listened with a faint smile; she didn’t say much, but her gaze made it clear she was paying close attention.
In truth, everything he spoke of was connected to her – but at this moment, she was only a bystander, quietly listening to someone else tell the story.
Fan Jianglin’s voice suddenly stopped. Cheng Jiao-niang also paused her chisel and looked up at him.
“Sister,” he said quietly, “these honors should have been yours. Why didn’t you take them for yourself – why give them to me… to us…”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled.
“These things are useful to you, but not to me,” she said. “If something has no use, why would I want it? Holding on to it would only drain one’s spirit. Let things be used where they are needed – that saying applies not only to things, but to people as well.”
No use…
So she gave it up…
Fan Jianglin understood only half of it – but since his sister said it was useless, then useless it must be. He nodded and passed her the hammer.
Cheng Jiao-niang took it and went back to carving the words.
Besides, these honors were nothing new. She had seen far greater, held far higher.
And yet – what of it? Hadn’t all of that vanished in the end, just the same?
When night fell and the Chen family’s banquet was set, they realized the guest of honor – Chen Shi’ba-niang – was nowhere to be found.
“She went out?” Madam Chen asked in surprise.
The little maid before her nodded.
“Where could she have gone at this hour?” Madam Chen frowned. Especially tonight, when so many relatives and friends had come specially for her – this child was never one to forget her manners.
“She went to Lady Cheng’s place,” the maid said.
Madam Chen and Chen Shao exchanged a glance.
At such a late hour – what made her think of going there?
“Back then, aside from Dan-niang, Lady Cheng was the closest to her,” Madam Chen said. “Now that she’s received such high praise, perhaps she wanted Lady Cheng to share in her joy.”
“Even so, there was no need to go right now – she could’ve gone tomorrow,” Chen Shao said, frowning slightly. Then, as something came to mind, he added, “Didn’t Shi’ba-niang often visit Lady Cheng before, saying it was to study?”
Madam Chen paused for a moment. It had been so long that she could hardly remember.
“Perhaps so,” she said.
Perhaps so? Chen Shao stroked his beard, his brows knitting tighter, but said nothing more.
By that time, Chen Shi’ba-niang was already seated before Cheng Jiao-niang. She bent forward and gently pushed a folded imperial decree across the table, then lifted her head – her eyes and brows unable to hide her joy and excitement.
Cheng Jiao-niang picked up the decree, glanced over it, and then set it aside.
“Let me see your handwriting,” she said.
“Yes,” Chen Shi’ba-niang replied, taking out a sheet of paper and sliding it forward. Her movements carried a trace of nervousness, but also eager anticipation, as she watched the girl before her.
Under the light of four palace lamps, Cheng Jiao-niang’s features were softened by a veil of gentle glow; that unapproachable air she usually carried seemed to fade slightly. Yet when she lifted her eyes again, those deep, dark pupils – clear and fathomless – still outshone the lamps themselves.
Chen Shi’ba-niang instinctively looked away.
“Not bad,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Not… bad?
Chen Shi’ba-niang’s smile stiffened slightly.
“Thank you,” she said with a bow.
A brief silence settled in the room – the air turning a little awkward.
“Oh, and – congratulations on achieving your wish,” Chen Shi’ba-niang added quickly, as if trying to break the uneasy quiet.
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
She thanked her – yet still shook her head.
So was she pleased, or not?
Chen Shi’ba-niang bit her lower lip, suddenly feeling that coming here had been a mistake.
All that excitement – the desire to share her joy and gratitude – felt as if it had been doused with a bucket of cold water.
In truth, they had never been close, had they?
And Lady Cheng had never shown any wish to be.
Perhaps, to her, this imperial reward meant nothing at all…
“Not bad…”
Then what would she say to someone who was truly deserving of praise?
“Miss, perhaps you could present your own calligraphy to His Majesty – the Emperor is very fond of fine writing… I’m sure he would reward–”
Before she could finish, she saw the girl’s expression tighten; Cheng Jiao-niang’s gaze fixed sharply on her.
Under that steady stare, Chen Shi’ba-niang’s heart gave a jolt of panic, and the rest of her words died in her throat.
“Chen Su, why do you practice calligraphy?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
Chen Shi’ba-niang froze for a moment.
“Because I like it…” she replied.
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang interrupted, shaking her head. “You practice so that others will say it’s good. Chen Su – you should want to make yourself into the person you admire, the person you would like.”
Those were the very words Cheng Jiao–niang had once said to her…
Chen Shi’ba-niang stared blankly, momentarily at a loss.
“Chen Su,” Cheng Jiao-niang looked at her and asked softly, “what is it that you’re afraid of?”
Afraid of… what?
What am I afraid of?
Chen Shi’ba-niang bit her lower lip, her face turning pale.
“I’m afraid…” she murmured, her voice trembling, “I’m afraid I’m not good enough… not as good… not as good as you… I can’t compare to you…”
As she spoke, she lifted her head.
“Yes, I’m afraid I can’t measure up to you – I can’t surpass you.”
Ban Qin, who was sitting by the door, lowered her head and let out a quiet sigh.
“You must find me disgusting, don’t you? This kind of Chen Su – so detestable, isn’t it?” Chen Shi’ba-niang said, her face drained of color, her hands clenched tightly on her knees. “I want to like myself too, to become the version of myself that I would admire – but I can’t. I thought I had – but… but…”
The moment she saw this girl – no, even just hearing her name – she knew she hadn’t.
She raised a hand to cover her face, bowing her head as a choked sob escaped her.
“I see,” Cheng Jiao-niang said quietly, shaking her head. “If you keep comparing yourself to others, it’ll be difficult – because that way, you’ll never learn to like yourself.”
