The Lantern Festival came quickly – it was the last festivity of the New Year season, and also the most lively one.
“Your sister said she’s not going?”
Lady Huang asked in surprise as she straightened the child’s clothes.
The maid in front of her nodded.
“That’s what Ban Qin said,” she replied.
“How come she’s not going? Didn’t she already save us seats?”
Fan Jianglin came out from the inner room and asked.
The maid shook her head.
“Ban Qin said to keep a close eye on Young Master tonight if you go out to play,” she said. “There are too many kidnappers about.”
Fan Jianglin nodded, waved his hand dismissively, and watched as the maid withdrew.
“Did something happen?” Lady Huang said. “I’d better go take a look.”
Fan Jianglin nodded.
It was only after Lady Huang entered the house that Second Madam Cheng learned of her arrival.
Not that she was particularly angry about it – after all, the gatekeepers and guards were all people of Cheng Jiao-niang’s household. Whoever controlled the gates controlled the Cheng family’s threshold; whoever managed the maids inside controlled the purse strings – and that meant being the true mistress of the house.
But this situation was about to change.
Second Madam Cheng’s gaze fell upon an embroidered box before her, and her heartbeat quickened. She reached out with both hands, stroking the brocade surface again and again, as if steeling her resolve, and then suddenly opened it.
Inside were only a few sheets of light, fluttering paper – but when she picked them up, they felt as heavy as a thousand catties.
On the documents was stamped a bright red seal. The name written there – ever since she’d received it the previous night – she had stared at again and again, until it almost felt unfamiliar now.
Peng Qingniang.
Peng Qingniang.
Who bore such a name? Such a lovely-sounding name?
Second Madam Cheng couldn’t help but laugh.
“Madam, but won’t this anger the First Young Lady?” the maid beside her couldn’t help but say.
Second Madam Cheng’s smile faltered slightly.
“After all, back then, she even sued the First Master over her dowry,” the maid said in a low voice.
It was that lawsuit that had dragged the First Master’s entire household into the mud, nearly suffocating the whole family under scandal.
“That’s different,” Second Madam Cheng said. “That was because the First Master tried to embezzle her dowry. I wouldn’t do anything like that.”
As she spoke, she looked down at the papers in her hand. She pulled one out, hesitated, then pulled out another – then hesitated again, before finally stopping.
“…When the time comes for her to marry, I won’t be stingy,” she said. “I’ll give her a full, generous dowry – enough to make sure her wedding is grand and glorious… And at home, whatever she wants to eat, drink, or use, I’ll give it to her. I’ll treat her like a living Bodhisattva.”
Of course she was like a Bodhisattva – one who brings in money and gives it away just as freely, the maid thought to herself.
“I know she won’t be happy about it,” Second Madam Cheng said. “But still…”
As she spoke, her gaze fell upon the documents before her. She reached out to stroke them, her eyes shining with a faint, intoxicated gleam.
Money – it moves the human heart.
Why had she sued the First Master back then, if not for money as well?
She had dared to brave public condemnation and sue her own elder – all for silver. So why shouldn’t she dare to risk angering someone, now, for the same cause?
Besides, the First Master had been sued because he tried to seize what was rightfully her mother’s dowry – she had reason and justice on her side. And now, the Second Master’s claim on this property was likewise proper, reasonable, and fully supported by law.
If one must draw a comparison to that earlier affair, then this time – they were Cheng Jiao-niang, and Cheng Jiao-niang was the First Master.
Since that was the case, what was there to fear?
“Mother.”
A voice came from outside the door – Cheng Qi-niang’s voice – interrupting Second Madam Cheng and the maid’s conversation.
Second Madam Cheng quickly put the documents back into the brocade box just as Cheng Qi-niang stepped inside.
“Why aren’t we going to see the lanterns?” she said. “Didn’t we already agree to go?”
Second Madam Cheng beckoned her over and patted the seat beside her.
“You don’t know how chaotic the Lantern Festival can be,” she said with a smile. “Your father just heard that every year there are people who steal children. We’ve only just arrived in the capital and don’t know our way around yet. Let’s just enjoy the lanterns from home this year – and go out to the streets next year.”
Cheng Qi-niang looked thoroughly displeased.
“Your father even bought you a lantern,” Second Madam Cheng said, “it’s as tall as a house!”
Cheng Qi-niang’s face lit up with delight.
“Really as tall as a house?” she asked.
Second Madam Cheng smiled and nodded.
“When has your father ever lied to you?” she said with a laugh.
Only then did Cheng Qi-niang grin happily.
“Besides,” Second Madam Cheng went on with a gentle smile, “your fourth brother’s exams are coming up in February, and your father has just arrived in the capital and still has a few legal matters to handle. So we should keep a low profile for now…”
Cheng Qi-niang gave an “oh,” and nodded in understanding.
Meanwhile, in Cheng Jiao-niang’s quarters, Lady Huang nodded after hearing her explanation.
“So that’s the reason. Fourth Young Master’s matters are indeed important, and it’s proper to keep some distance from your father’s affairs as well,” she said. “Then I can rest easy.”
Cheng Jiao-niang bowed in thanks.
“I’ve troubled you with needless worry,” she said.
Lady Huang quickly returned the bow with a smile, then rose to take her leave.
The Lantern Festival arrived step by step, and by the time dusk settled over the city, the streets were already packed with people.
Everywhere one looked, there were lanterns – countless shapes and colors – and towering lantern mountains of every design.
As the crowd bowed toward the Emperor on the city gate, the sovereign took his seat; the officials and their families lining the imperial avenue then also took their places – or began to stroll and enjoy the lanterns at leisure.
“It feels a little different this year,” Madam Qin said slowly as she sat beneath the decorated canopy, gazing at the sea of lanterns and people outside. Then she turned to the maid beside her.
“Lady Cheng’s household truly didn’t come?”
“No, Lady Cheng’s family didn’t come – and neither did the Zhou family,” the maid replied again, counting on her fingers. “Even that Inspector Fan didn’t show up.”
“It really does feel like there are fewer people this year,” Madam Qin said with a smile.
“Fewer people indeed,” another lady nearby, having overheard, said with a laugh, holding up her own hand as if counting. “Your son didn’t come either.”
Madam Qin chuckled.
“He’s preparing for the exams – ‘even if you sharpen your spear at the last moment, it still gleams,’” she said lightly.
“Don’t be so modest,” the other lady laughed, then added, “And the Gao family didn’t come either.”
Madam Qin nodded.
Of course not – Gao Lingjun, punished and sent into exile, would naturally not appear here.
“The Chen family didn’t come either,” the lady said.
With the famine and uprisings growing ever more severe, Chen Shao had no heart for festivities.
“No wonder this year feels different from the past ones,” Madam Qin said with a smile.
“Indeed, it’s not the same,” the lady agreed, glancing toward the palace gates. “After all, this year we have an extra little prince.”
Madam Qin smiled and followed her gaze toward the palace gate as well.
The Emperor must be in excellent spirits, she thought.
Though last year had seen both a solar and lunar eclipse, as well as blizzards and civil unrest, compared to all that, his own good health – and the birth of another prince – signified long life and prosperity. For the Emperor, it was surely a blessing beyond measure.
“Your Majesty, look over there.”
The young consort wrapped in a bright, elegant cloak said with a beaming smile.
“Aren’t you cold?” the Emperor asked instead of looking at the scenery, gently holding her hand and speaking in a low voice.
“How could I be cold, standing beside Your Majesty?” Consort An replied with a smile.
Watching the affectionate pair before her, the Imperial Consort sitting behind them nearly dug her nails into her palms.
The Empress hadn’t come due to illness – normally, she would be the one standing beside the Emperor.
And what was so special about this? Just because she happened to be carrying the next prince? Such arrogance! As if no one else had ever borne one!
No one knew what Consort An whispered next, but the Emperor burst out laughing.
A happy occasion! Truly a joyous thing!
But not her joyous thing. The only event that would truly be fortunate for her – would be the establishment of a crown prince.
“When is the Attendant Scholar leaving?” the Imperial Consort asked in a low voice.
“He’s scheduled to depart on the twenty-third,” the maid beside her whispered in reply.
“I must see him before he goes,” the Imperial Consort murmured.
The maid quietly answered, “Yes, Your Ladyship.”
“His Highness, Prince Ping, has arrived!”
Someone called out nearby, followed by a stir in the crowd.
The Imperial Consort quickly looked over and saw the young prince – draped in a brocade robe and crowned with gold – striding forward. People all around bowed in salute.
“Another New Year, and he’s changed again,” the Imperial Consort said with a smile, unable to hide the joy in her eyes as she looked at her son.
Under the dazzling, multicolored lantern light, the young prince bowed to the Emperor. The Emperor smiled and told him to rise, while Consort An gracefully stepped aside. Father and son stood together, speaking quietly.
It was a scene that warmed the heart.
The Imperial Consort sat back with a smile, content to watch.
Compared to the bustle atop the palace gate, the inner palace felt rather quiet.
From within the Empress’s chambers came the sound of a soft cough.
“Your Majesty must still take care of your health,” said Duke Jin’an, watching as the Empress was fed a few spoonfuls of broth by her maids.
The Empress smiled faintly.
“Why don’t you ask that Lady Cheng for some of her pastries for me as well?” she said with a teasing smile.
Duke Jin’an laughed.
“If Your Majesty still has the strength to make jokes, then I can rest easy,” he replied.
The Empress smiled faintly and, supported by her maids, leaned against the couch.
“You truly intend to leave the capital?” she asked.
Duke Jin’an nodded.
“I came today to bid Your Majesty farewell. After January, I’ll be departing,” he said.
The Empress looked at him for a moment.
“What made you change your mind?” she asked softly. “Or rather – who made you change it?”
“For Your Majesty and for Prince Qing,” Duke Jin’an replied.
The Empress laughed, though her laughter quickly turned into a fit of coughing.
“When you visit the Empress Dowager later, tell her those words – she loves to hear them,” she said with a smile.
Duke Jin’an laughed and answered obediently, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“But there’s one thing,” he added, “that I can only say to Your Majesty.”
The Empress made a soft sound of acknowledgment as a maid lifted the teacup to her lips.
“Before the lunar eclipse, after the solar one – there was also the passage of Taibai across the heavens,” said Duke Jin’an.
The passage of Taibai!
At those words, the Empress froze, looking up at him in shock. Her throat tightened, and she began to cough violently.
The maids beside her were startled.
“Someone – quickly, fetch Her Majesty’s medicine!” one of them cried out toward the door.
The eunuchs and maids standing outside hurried away in alarm, while the maid who had spoken lowered her head and stepped back several paces.
The Empress’s coughing gradually subsided.
“Wei-lang, do you understand what you’re saying?” she asked in a low, grave voice.
Duke Jin’an nodded.
“When it comes to signs in the heavens, I would never dare deceive Heaven – or speak recklessly,” he said.
The Empress’s expression shifted, unease flickering across her face.
“Then why has no one else heard of this?” she asked.
“Few people saw it,” Duke Jin’an replied. “It lasted only a short while – and even those who did weren’t certain of what they’d witnessed.”
The Empress straightened up.
“Was it that Madam Cheng?” she asked.
“No – the Bureau of Astronomy,” Duke Jin’an said, shaking his head with a tone that brooked no doubt. “It was the Bureau of Astronomy.”
He repeated it twice. The Empress was taken aback for a moment, then gave a faint smile.
Silence settled in the room for a while.
“Very well. I understand,” the Empress said at last. “Go then, with an easy heart.”
Duke Jin’an bowed low in response.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your care,” he said, rising to his feet – then paused, lowering his voice.
Footsteps sounded outside, accompanied by the voices of the palace maids and eunuchs.
“The medicine – it’s here, the medicine is here!”
Duke Jin’an lowered his head and quietly took his leave.
The Empress was helped up by the maid nearest to her. As she watched the servants stream into the room, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
“For my care?” she murmured softly to herself. “It wasn’t for anyone else – it was for my own sake. No need to thank me.”
By the time the second watch of the night arrived, the banquet at the Cheng residence had ended, and everyone in the household came out into the courtyard to admire the lanterns.
Although two tall lantern mountains had been set up in the courtyard, everyone still couldn’t help yearning for the sights outside.
The young servants stationed at the gate took advantage of their duty – pretending to be checking the entrance while sneaking peeks at the bustling street beyond.
“The lantern festivities will go on for three or four days,” Cheng Si-niang comforted her younger sister. “There are too many people out now. When it’s the last night and the crowds thin out, Father will probably let us go see it.”
At those words, Cheng Qi-niang’s mood eased a little, and she turned toward the main hall.
“I’ll go talk to Father,” she said, about to get up, but Cheng Si-niang quickly caught her by the arm.
“Father and Mother and… First Sister are talking right now,” she said.
At that, Cheng Qi-niang’s face darkened. Talking again – about what? And why did they always send her away whenever they did?
Meanwhile, in the hall, the words spoken by Second Master Cheng made Ban Qin and the maid both turn pale.
“Master, what did you just say?” they cried out, staring at Second Master Cheng in shock and anger.
“We’re talking business here – since when do a couple of maids have the right to interrupt?” Second Master Cheng barked, eyebrows bristling.
The maid’s own brows shot up as she started to step forward, but Cheng Jiao-niang, seated calmly, raised a hand to stop her.
She looked at Second Master Cheng and smiled slightly – a brilliant smile under the mingling glow of indoor and outdoor lantern light.
“Father is quite right,” she said.
