It was a small, shabby iron box.
Ban Qin took it over and handed it to Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiao-niang reached out and opened it. Her face, usually calm and composed, flickered with surprise for a brief moment before returning to its usual serenity.
What was that? Ban Qin glanced over – inside the opened box lay a long paper tube, bulging oddly, exuding a strange smell.
“What is your surname?” Cheng Jiao-niang looked up and asked.
Li Mao was slightly taken aback. Just now, he had gathered his courage to look directly at the young lady and had seen the flash of surprise in her eyes, confirming that his guess had been right. But he hadn’t expected that, instead of asking about the object, she would ask about him.
And the question itself seemed almost absurd – his surname?
“My surname is Li, given name Mao,” he replied.
He had already introduced himself earlier; it seemed this young lady hadn’t taken it to heart at all.
“Li,” Cheng Jiao-niang repeated, looking at Li Mao. After a brief pause, she said, “You were originally surnamed Li – do you plan to keep that surname in the future as well?”
The question threw Li Mao into complete confusion.
Who would ever ask something like that?
Was she insulting him, accusing him of betraying his ancestors? No… probably not.
They bore no grudge; she wouldn’t just start off by cursing him, would she?
Or maybe – it was just a foolish question…
This young lady, after all, had once been simple-minded. Though they said she had been enlightened by an immortal – pah, pah – no, though they said she had been cured and taught by a great master, learning all sorts of miraculous skills, perhaps she was still a bit different from ordinary people.
Li Mao didn’t know how to deal with someone simple-minded, but he did know how to deal with children. He had a six-year-old daughter, and children, after all, were like that – naïve, their minds not yet fully formed.
When talking to a child, you just answered or asked things as literally as they came.
“I’ve always been surnamed Li,” he answered earnestly. “I’m the seventh illegitimate son of the main branch of the Li family, who used to run the fireworks business. I have no plans to change my surname – unless I were to commit some unforgivable crime and be struck from the family register…”
“If you were cast out from your clan, what surname would you take then?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked immediately.
Even Ban Qin turned her head at that, glancing at Li Mao with some concern.
Would he faint from anger – or storm off in shame?
Her lady’s way of speaking was sometimes more than most people could handle.
“Even if I were expelled from the clan, I’d still be surnamed Li…” Li Mao said, forcing a faint, awkward smile.
Cheng Jiao-niang made a soft sound of acknowledgment, then looked again at the iron box in her hands.
“I won’t do this business,” she said, pushing the box back toward him. “This isn’t something that should be made into business at all.”
This can’t be made into business…
That was right. If she was thinking the same thing he was, then indeed – it couldn’t be made into business.
Seeing the maid about to show him out, Li Mao grew anxious and flustered.
“Lady, my lady, you do recognize this object, don’t you?” he said.
But the lady had only glanced at it once – hadn’t said a single word or asked a single question about it. How could he claim she recognized it? Ban Qin couldn’t understand and turned to look at Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“I recognize it,” she said.
Good – honest!
Li Mao couldn’t help but take a step forward.
“Then… my lady, no matter how I try, I can’t get it right. It just won’t work, and I… I can’t figure out why…” he stammered.
“What do you want to use it for?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
Li Mao froze for a moment.
“I… don’t really know,” he said.
Ban Qin frowned again.
What kind of answer was that?
You don’t even know what it’s for, and yet you made such a thing?
She looked at Li Mao and saw that, sure enough, his expression carried genuine confusion – his brow furrowed, as if he truly didn’t know.
“If you don’t even know what it’s meant to be used for, then how can you tell whether it’s right or wrong, whether it works or not?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
Li Mao was stunned again.
“It’s not that I don’t know what it’s for – I just don’t know… don’t know…” he said, fumbling for words, his hands waving anxiously in the air as if to draw out some shape or idea – but he himself didn’t seem to know what that shape was.
He held his hands up mid-gesture, then suddenly his eyes cleared.
“Yes,” he murmured, “I really don’t know how to use it. No wonder I could never get it right.”
With that, he stood up and ran off.
Ban Qin stared at the man who had rushed out the door like a gust of wind.
The maids, servants, and guards in the courtyard all looked equally dumbfounded.
Before their bewilderment could settle, there came another clatter – Li Mao had run back in again.
“Many thanks for your guidance, my lady,” he said, face flushed red as he bowed deeply.
“I wouldn’t dare claim that. I merely asked an honest question,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, gently pushing the iron box toward him once more. “You forgot to take your thing with you.”
Li Mao looked at her and shook his head.
“If you do not despise it, please keep it,” he said, and suddenly dropped to his knees, bowing low. “It was from seeing your fireworks that I conceived this idea. As the ancients say, ‘even one word makes a teacher.’ I dare not call myself your disciple – but neither dare I deceive my teacher.”
A disciple?
Everyone in the courtyard was stunned.
Li Mao himself seemed to realize how absurd his words had sounded. No sooner had he spoken than he turned as if to flee, striding toward the gate – only to stop abruptly at the threshold.
“My lady,” he suddenly asked, “that person – what was his surname?”
What? Which person?
Everyone was still dazed, but Cheng Jiao-niang looked at Li Mao and replied, “His surname is Chen.”
Li Mao bowed deeply.
“I will remember it,” he said loudly, then turned and strode swiftly away.
The courtyard gradually fell silent again.
Ban Qin knelt down and picked up the iron box.
“Miss, shall I put it away?” she asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang reached out to take it, gazing inside with a thoughtful expression.
“Miss, what is this called?” Ban Qin asked.
“What is it called…”
Fragments of voices seemed to drift through her mind–
“Ah, Xiao Fang, don’t touch that! You mustn’t touch anything in here…”
“…Why aren’t you calling me Princess Consort anymore?”
“Your Highness, what did your father say to you again? Is he plotting against me once more?”
“…Hmph, I’m not telling you.”
“…Then I won’t tell you either.”
Cheng Jiao-niang closed the lid of the box and lowered her gaze.
“I don’t know,” she said softly.
So she recognizes it – but can’t quite remember again? Ban Qin thought to herself. Fearing her lady might grow sad, she quickly nodded and changed the subject.
“What shall we have for supper? Fourth Young Master is staying at the new residence all alone – it must be dreadfully dull for him. Why don’t we invite him over for a meal?” she said with a smile.
The servants had finished preparing the house meant for Second Master Cheng’s family in just two or three days. Now Cheng Si-lang was living there, with newly purchased maids, servants, and courtyard staff all sent over.
“He rode all the way from Jiang-zhou in a hurry; he surely hasn’t had time to keep up with his studies. It’s a blessing he hasn’t worn himself out completely. Let him rest and study properly – next year’s examinations aren’t far off,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Ban Qin nodded.
“I wonder if Fourth Young Master will pass,” she murmured, folding her hands together. Then, as if suddenly recalling something, she added, “Miss, shall we go to Puxiu Temple to offer incense for him?”
“Yes, yes – that’s a good idea. We should indeed,” said another maid who had been listening from under the veranda. She turned to Lady Huang with a polite gesture. “Madam, you should come with us as well.”
Standing in the courtyard, Lady Huang watched the maid teaching the child to walk and smiled.
“It’s already November – the weather’s turned cold. We should pray to the Bodhisattva for protection from frostbite,” she said.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded and agreed softly.
“It seems only Fourth Young Master can coax our lady out of the house,” one of the maids whispered to Ban Qin as she came out.
Ban Qin pressed her lips together in a smile and was just about to reply when a knock sounded at the door.
“At this hour? Who could that be?”
Both of them turned toward the gate. The doorman opened it, revealing a eunuch standing there with a cheerful grin.
“Lady Cheng, I serve at Prince Qing’s residence,” he said quickly, presenting a red invitation card with both hands. “His Highness Prince Qing and Duke Jin’an invite you to a banquet tomorrow.”
Duke Jin’an?
Everyone hurried to bow and invite the eunuch inside, but he waved his hand with a cheerful smile.
“His Highness said there’s nothing formal about it – just like ordinary folk celebrating a move to a new home. He simply wishes to invite the lady over to sit for a while and have a look,” he explained. “No other guests have been invited – only the lady.”
To accept, or not to accept?
All eyes turned toward Cheng Jiao-niang. This lady almost never went out, let alone socialized with anyone.
Though the Duke was hardly an ordinary man – neither, for that matter, was she.
She had wagered with the Emperor himself, practiced calligraphy at her own gate -things others wouldn’t even dare to dream of, she had done without hesitation. Refusing a duke’s invitation would hardly be surprising.
“Very well. Please thank His Highness for me,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
At those words, the eunuch couldn’t help letting out a sigh of relief and quickly stepped forward a few paces.
The maid hurriedly took the gilded invitation from his hands and handed him a small pouch of money.
“Thank you for your trouble, sir,” she said with a pleasant smile.
The eunuch did not stand on ceremony – he accepted it with a grin, offered a polite bow, and turned to leave.
“Then our trip to Puxiu Temple will have to wait until the day after tomorrow,” Ban Qin said.
The maid nodded.
“I’ll go inform the temple at once,” she replied.
Cheng Jiao-niang, meanwhile, had already taken the invitation and returned to her room, where she quietly resumed reading.
Lady Huang stood in the courtyard, glancing from the house to the yard.
“But… it’s an invitation from the Prince’s residence,” she said. Shouldn’t everyone be discussing that, rather than the delay of tomorrow’s temple visit?
“Shouldn’t we at least prepare the clothes and jewelry for tomorrow in advance?” she added.
“There’s no need, Madam,” Ban Qin said with a smile.
“Our lady only has a few sets of clothes – changing them or not makes little difference,” another maid added, also smiling.
“And as for jewelry,” Ban Qin went on, “aside from that little comb and the hairpin, she won’t wear anything else. Better to think about what to make for breakfast tomorrow instead.”
Lady Huang shook her head with a laugh.
“Then I’ll just do what I can,” she said, echoing one of Fan Jianglin’s favorite sayings. Smiling, she clapped her hands toward the child learning to walk in the courtyard. “Come, come here – to Auntie!”
The next morning, Cheng Jiao-niang rose as usual – practiced archery, had breakfast, then went outside to copy her calligraphy. Only after finishing all this did she change into fresh clothes, pin up her hair, and step out of the house.
“It’s no different from going to Puxiu Temple,” Lady Huang said, shaking her head. Then, suddenly remembering something, she quickly asked, “What about the gift?”
Why were Ban Qin’s hands empty? She hadn’t seen anyone load anything onto the carriage either.
“Miss has it with her,” Ban Qin said with a smile.
Lady Huang looked at Cheng Jiao-niang – her hands were empty too. How could she possibly be carrying anything?
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled at her and lifted a hand, giving it a little wave.
Still nothing there! Lady Huang grew even more puzzled and was just about to speak when the sound of galloping hooves approached.
Qin Shi’san-lang reined in his horse and dismounted.
“You’re going out?” he asked in mild surprise.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Perfect timing then – I came to invite you to a banquet,” Qin Shi’san-lang said with a smile.
“I already have an engagement,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied with a polite bow.
He looked slightly taken aback.
“Then what about this evening?” he asked, still smiling.
“In the evening, I don’t go out,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Since her arrival in the capital, her name had become widely known – but she herself had grown quieter than ever. In the past, she might occasionally step out for a stroll or a meal, but now she almost never left her home.
“Then tomorrow at noon,” Qin Shi’san-lang said with another easy smile.
But Cheng Jiao-niang still shook her head.
“Tomorrow I’m going to Puxiu Temple to offer incense. I’ve already arranged for a vegetarian meal there,” she said.
You could just cancel it, Lady Huang almost blurted out – a simple vegetarian meal, what did it matter? – but one of the maids quickly tugged her sleeve, shaking her head. So Lady Huang fell silent.
“Just cancel it then,” Qin Shi’san-lang said with a laugh. “Tomorrow’s my birthday.”
“What an unfortunate coincidence,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, bowing again. “But it’s already been arranged. It wouldn’t be proper to change it.”
Qin Shi’san-lang smiled and nodded.
“All right, I understand – you always keep to your rules. It’s my fault for not inviting you sooner.”
He swung back onto his horse. “Still, you can’t come empty-handed, can you?”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled faintly and returned his bow with a nod.
“Very well,” she said.
Qin Shi’san-lang grinned, clasped his hands in farewell, and turned his horse to leave.
When he reached the street, he glanced back – saw that the gates of the Yudai Bridge residence had already closed, and the carriage heading the other way had merged into the flow of traffic, growing smaller in the distance.
The smile faded from his face bit by bit.
“Rules… is it really that not even a trace of human feeling can break through them?” he murmured to himself. Then, after a moment’s pause, he added quietly, “Or is it simply… not enough?”
With a sigh, he turned his head forward again and urged his horse onward.
