Daylight had fully broken, and the streets grew busier.
The Gao residence, however, looked unusually quiet at the gate – since Attendant Scholar Gao had already submitted his memorial requesting to serve outside the capital, and the Emperor had granted it.
But while it was deserted outside, inside the household the liveliness remained the same.
From the front hall to the back courtyard, people bustled to and fro amid clusters of bright flowers.
“If only the stage were filled as well,” someone said with a laugh, pointing toward the empty platform beyond the pavilion.
“Last year there were both a solar and a lunar eclipse, followed by blizzards and unrest among the people,” another replied. “His Majesty has been anxious, the realm uneasy – he’s already ordered a ban on public entertainments. The fact that fireworks were allowed for the New Year and lanterns will still be displayed on the fifteenth is blessing enough.”
“Even so, there’s no harm in enjoying some music and dance at home,” someone else said, gesturing toward the young lady stepping lightly into the hall from outside.
“Oh my, Lady Zhu has arrived.”
The men seated about the hall all turned to look.
“Wasn’t she supposed to be hard to invite?”
“Hard to invite? That depends on who’s doing the inviting!”
The commotion outside drifted into the hall, making Attendant Scholar Gao – resting behind the curtain with his eyes closed while two maids massaged his legs and temples – frown slightly.
“My lord, will you be leaving only after the Beginning of Spring?” one of his aides asked nearby.
“How could I?” Attendant Scholar Gao replied with his eyes still shut. “I truly admit my guilt, and I truly accept my punishment. I’ll be gone after the Lantern Festival.”
“It’s wise of you to go with the tide, my lord,” the aide said, nodding. “Prince Ping is growing older – he’ll be fourteen after the new year – and with last year’s solar and lunar eclipses, His Majesty is sure to pursue a period of clear governance this year, which means he may soon name a crown prince.”
“Once the crown prince is established, I’ll be the first to bear the brunt,” Attendant Scholar Gao said.
“Indeed. Your lordship’s family is, after all, related to the throne by marriage – you cannot remain at court forever,” the aide agreed. “By volunteering to leave now, you please the emperor and also avoid the coming storm. Once the dust settles in the future, nothing will stand in your way of returning.”
At that, he laughed, and Attendant Scholar Gao – still with eyes closed – laughed as well.
“So, when you see misfortune, don’t be too quick to worry,” he said slowly. “A bad thing can turn into a good one – and a good thing, perhaps, into a bad.”
The people in the room all laughed together.
Attendant Scholar Gao suddenly raised his hand to stop the laughter, opened his eyes, and – with the help of the maids – sat up.
“The music outside is quite good,” he said.
At these words, the people on both sides quickly lifted the curtain, revealing the young lady seated in the hall, playing the zither.
“She’s Lady Zhu from Desheng Pavilion,” one of the aides explained.
Attendant Scholar Gao nodded.
The lady in the hall was indeed worthy of being called a blossom among flowers – her face as radiant as a peony, her complexion as soft as a herbaceous peony. Her garments were splendid yet carried no hint of vulgarity.
“Not bad, not bad,” he remarked, though no one could tell whether he was praising the music or the musician.
Leaning lightly against the maid, he tapped his fingers in rhythm to the melody, savoring the unhurried leisure of the New Year’s season.
…
Second Madam Cheng entered a household courtyard with Cheng Jiao-niang by her side.
Seeing the servants who came forward to greet them, she smiled and nodded politely.
“…It’s Jia Zhigao from the Bureau of Imperial Inscriptions,” one servant whispered in her ear. “A native of the capital – his ancestors married into the imperial clan, and the family has built up considerable wealth and property.”
“I’ve noted it,” Second Madam Cheng murmured back. “What else did Ban Qin say?”
“Nothing else – just that Miss may act as she sees fit,” the servant replied softly.
As she sees fit?
This was socializing among the households of court officials in the capital – how could it be the same as in Jiang–zhou?
Second Madam Cheng couldn’t help glancing back at Cheng Jiao-niang and the maid standing behind her.
Both are named Ban Qin – so why didn’t she send the other one?
In the inner quarters, quite a few guests were already seated – both elder and young -and the whole room was a dazzling array of colors like a garden in bloom.
Madam Jia came forward personally to receive them.
“Madam Cheng, you’ve arrived!” she said warmly.
“Madam Jia,” Second Madam Cheng quickly returned the greeting.
Before the formalities were even finished, Madam Jia was already smiling broadly at Cheng Jiao-niang.
“Lady Cheng, please, come inside,” she said.
The wording sounded a little odd, but… seeing the hostess’s beaming, earnest face, it hardly mattered.
Second Madam Cheng smiled and nodded, lifting her skirts slightly as she followed her in.
In the main hall, more people rose to their feet, all smiling and greeting them warmly. Of course, everyone knew perfectly well whom that warmth was truly directed toward.
“Madam Zhou, why didn’t you invite this niece of yours to your last gathering?” one lady standing by the doorway teased another as they watched the scene inside, where Cheng Jiao-niang was clearly the center of attention. “If you had, it would’ve been even livelier, wouldn’t it?”
Madam Zhou’s gaze fell on the young lady behind Second Madam Cheng. The girl had just removed her cloak – her festive winter attire, both elegant and age-appropriate, made her look radiant, her youthful beauty bright and pleasing to behold. Yet instead of delight, a chill crept through Madam Zhou’s heart.
Sensing someone’s stare, the young lady lifted her eyes and glanced in her direction.
It was like being pricked by a needle – Madam Zhou flinched, jerking her head away, her heart pounding as if it would leap out of her throat.
I’ve been good to her. Truly good. I’ve never wished her harm.
Madam Zhou pressed a hand to her chest, repeating the thought like a prayer.
“Madam Zhou? Madam Zhou?” The lady beside her, noticing her lapse, quickly gave her a nudge. “What’s the matter?”
Madam Zhou came back to herself and forced a faint smile.
“Nothing,” she said.
The other woman chuckled knowingly.
“Ah, you’re envious, aren’t you? Don’t be – she’s only a second wife, while you’re the proper aunt by blood. If you walked over there, she wouldn’t even have a place to stand.”
Envious?
If she had known they would be coming, she never would have come herself.
Madam Zhou glanced again toward the crowd, at Second Madam Cheng surrounded by flatterers, raising her sleeve to hide a self-satisfied smile.
“I’m not envious,” she murmured. “If I had to stand beside her, I wouldn’t be able to smile at all.”
Poor Second Madam Cheng…
Did she really think the girl standing behind her was a bringer of fortune and blessing? That was no Bodhisattva – it was a yaksha, a night demon.
“Stop talking nonsense,” the lady beside her said, tugging her arm. “Come on, let’s go meet your niece – who knows, if you’re lucky, she might even grant you a little enlightenment.”
But Madam Zhou turned away abruptly.
“I suddenly feel unwell. I’d better go home first,” she said – and before the woman could react, she was already hurrying off.
That New Year, Madam Zhou remained at home “recuperating,” declining all further invitations.
At the first light of dawn, Second Master Cheng suddenly turned over and sat up.
Second Madam Cheng, who had been sitting before the dressing table examining her jewelry, was startled.
“Master, you’re up so early?” she asked in surprise.
Second Master Cheng glanced at her.
“You’re not exactly up late yourself,” he replied.
Second Madam Cheng smiled and came closer.
“Master, there’s another banquet today. Tell me – which of these gold hairpins should I wear?” she said, holding up a handful of five hairpins of varying sizes, letting the morning light catch on them.
The gleam of the gold was dazzling.
Second Master Cheng frowned.
“I think they all look lovely,” Second Madam Cheng said with a smile, admiring them herself. “But of course I can’t wear all of them – better to keep a few aside as part of Qi-niang’s dowry for when she marries.”
A few shabby trinkets given away by some maid – and she wants to save them for his daughter’s dowry?!
“What worthless junk – you actually think that’s worth keeping?” Second Master Cheng burst out, his temper flaring as he struck the hairpins from her hand. “How can you be so short-sighted!”
Second Madam Cheng quickly bent down to pick them up.
“What are you angry about?” she said, displeased. “I’ve never had so many pretty things before, no one’s ever given me so much. I was born in a poor scholar’s family – when I see money, I can’t help but look.”
Never had so many… no one ever gave me so much.
Those words sounded jarring in Second Master Cheng’s ears.
Had he not brought enough into this household all these years? Was he worth less to her than a maid’s gift?
With that irritation burning in his chest, her last phrase – ‘poor scholar’s family’ – was like a torch set to his tail.
“You wretched woman, are you trying to court death?!” Second Master Cheng shouted, leaping to his feet.
Second Madam Cheng flared up at once.
“In the middle of the New Year, are you trying to curse me?” she snapped, brows arched. “Was one death not enough – must there be a second?”
Second Master Cheng’s face turned green with fury. He didn’t dare strike her, and as for scolding, there were already faint sounds of servants moving about outside.
“Disgraceful!” he barked instead, flinging his sleeve and striding out in anger.
The door banged shut behind him. Second Madam Cheng curled her lips, lifted the gold hairpins once more, and examined them in the growing light of morning.
“These aren’t the only things I have my eye on,” she murmured with a smile. “Still, I won’t turn my nose up at these petty gains.”
During the New Year season, the government offices were noticeably more idle than usual.
“Let’s finish early today,” one clerk said with a grin to another. “We can head to the East Gate for a bowl of mutton soup, then have some fun in Jintian Alley in the afternoon.”
The other clerk curled his lips and shook his head.
“I’m afraid we won’t get off that early. Better wait till evening,” he said, hands tucked into his sleeves.
“Why not?” the first clerk asked, puzzled.
The man jerked his chin toward one of the offices.
“There’s a most industrious official still hard at work in there,” he said.
Industrious official?
The first clerk blinked in surprise.
Just then, the door of the office across the way was pulled open, and an official appeared, his face set in a scowl.
“You there – someone! Go to the Jingzhao Prefecture and fetch me those records!” he barked.
The clerk who had been gossiping stuck out his tongue playfully, then hurried over, bowing and nodding as he took the order. He accepted the documents with both hands and scurried off at once.
Before long, a thick stack of scrolls was set down on the already crowded desk, making the table even messier.
“My lord, these are the files you requested from the Jingzhao Prefecture,” the clerk said.
Second Master Cheng gave a curt “Mm,” and reached out to leaf through them.
“My lord, there’s no need to rush the case,” the clerk said ingratiatingly. “We’ll be sure to give you our full support.”
Everyone said this Cheng Dong was just a minor official who’d spent years drifting around remote, low-ranking prefectures – and that it was only through the Emperor’s personal favor that he’d been promoted to the Grand Court of Revision. But in the capital, which magistrate was easy to serve in?
When a new official took office, it wasn’t about setting “three fires” to assert authority -it was about surviving the underlings’ subtle challenges, facing a flood of bureaucratic tasks and piles of long-pending cases waiting to be settled. Handle them poorly, and you’d be left a laughingstock, your earlier pride quickly extinguished.
That was surely what Cheng Dong was guarding against – but in this case, he was worrying too much.
Not only had an influential patron already sent word that no one was to make things difficult for him – even without that, the mere fact that his surname was Cheng, that his given name was Dong, and that his daughter was the Lady Cheng, was reason enough for everyone to treat him with reverence. Trouble him? Who’d be foolish enough to court death on purpose?
One Feng Lin had been more than enough!
The clerk was still lost in idle thoughts, about to offer a few more words of flattery, when – slap! – a sharp sound cut through the air.
Cheng Dong had struck the desk.
“Found it!” he said, his face lighting up with delight.
Seeing the clerk staring blankly, he quickly composed himself.
“You may go.”
Once the clerk had been dismissed, Second Master Cheng took a deep breath and began flipping rapidly through the documents. Soon, all the other scrolls had been pushed aside, leaving only four or five open before him.
The office was dimly lit, but even in the half-light he could clearly see the characters written across the papers: Cheng Jiao–niang.
“So it’s true…” he murmured. “It really was left in her own name, not the Zhou family’s…”
At that, he slammed his palm down hard on the desk again.
“What a foolish child!” he exclaimed.
“When one’s grandparents and parents still live, one must not keep separate property -else it’s unfilial, punishable by three years’ labor!”
“How could she be so careless! No wonder people keep criticizing and attacking her -she handed them the handle herself!”
Despite the sternness of his words, a smile slowly spread across Second Master Cheng’s face.
“That was close – too close. Good thing I came in time, and that someone warned me as well. Otherwise, this could’ve turned into yet another source of trouble down the line.”
