On the training grounds of Duke Jin’an’s residence, two figures, one leading and the other following, had already walked several laps.
Having finished tending to matters within the manor, Su Xin had already moved on to other duties. Meanwhile, Ban Qin, utterly exhausted and unable to walk any further, simply stayed behind with the other maids, waiting nearby.
Duke Jin’an, who had repeatedly urged and even gently pulled Cheng Jiao-niang out of the room, fell silent as soon as they began walking along the training grounds.
The two of them strolled slowly and quietly, side by side – a strange yet comfortable silence lingering between them.
“Do you think the Chen family seems ridiculous in this situation?” Cheng Jiao-niang suddenly spoke up.
Duke Jin’an paused, turning to look at her in surprise.
After all this time of thinking, this was what she had been contemplating?
“How could it be ridiculous?” he replied.
To marry off a daughter to a fool…
“It should be pitiful,” he added with a slight smile.
Pitiful?
Cheng Jiao-niang fell silent.
Being forced into such circumstances, having to confront the situation head-on, fully aware of being trapped in a scheme yet having no choice but to endure and swallow it – yes, it truly was pitiful.
Her steps quickened momentarily.
But could it really be described as merely pitiful?
Her pace slowed once more.
“It’s not that there was no way out, but rather that he did not want to take it. In that case, one could only say he sought benevolence and attained it,” Cheng Jiao-niang said slowly.
Duke Jin’an also slowed his pace.
“Then, he is admirable,” he remarked.
Admirable?
Cheng Jiao-niang came to a stop.
To pursue one’s own principles without hesitation is admirable, but what if those principles are wrong?
“Is the Way of Loyalty to the Sovereign ever wrong?” Duke Jin’an asked, his tone gentle, as though afraid of startling her.
Although she had appeared calm and composed as always over the past two days, the way her hands unconsciously clenched from time to time revealed that this girl was deeply tense at this moment.
That was why he did not want her to be alone. He wanted to keep her talking, to draw her out for walks – he did not want to see her sitting all by herself, silent and isolated.
She was not alone now. She had him.
The Way of Loyalty to the Sovereign was certainly not wrong.
Cheng Jiao-niang fell silent once more, then lifted her foot to continue walking.
Just like the Way of Heaven upheld by her Cheng family – that too was not wrong.
At the end of the Great Qing dynasty, when the realm fell into chaos, there were four legitimate claimants to the throne in the eyes of the world. Among them, Prince Shun and Prince Ning were considered the most likely and powerful contenders. Yet, the Cheng family chose Duke Yang, who had no imperial bloodline, and supported him as the new ruler even at the cost of being branded as traitors who plotted to usurp the throne.
Because he was the sovereign chosen by the Way of Heaven, he was the sovereign the Cheng family recognized.
They bore the weight of infamy, waged war, strategized, and labored for ten years. Finally, the new emperor ascended the throne in accordance with the Way of Heaven. But what they received in return was the destruction of their entire clan and the extinction of their lineage.
Admirable? Pitiful? Or laughable?
…
The courtyard of Old Master Chen fell into a solemn stillness once again.
The sound of footsteps broke the silence. Chen Shao looked up to see the old master reentering the room.
“Father,” Chen Shao called out, his voice filled with sorrow as he bowed again. But before he could finish, the footsteps returned.
“Have the madam and Dan-niang packed their things?” Old Master Chen’s voice sounded beside him.
Chen Shao’s figure trembled. He heard an elderly servant nearby respond with an affirmation.
“Then have them board the carriage and set off,” Old Master Chen said. “We can still reach a courier station to rest before nightfall.”
“Father!” Chen Shao raised his head, his voice choked with emotion.
As he looked up, he saw a sword gripped tightly in Old Master Chen’s hand.
Just as he lifted his head, the old master raised his hand.
With a loud clang, the long sword landed right before him.
“Since one cannot be both loyal and filial,” Old Master Chen said with a faint smile, “then do both. Consider it seeking benevolence and attaining it. You will keep your reputation for loyalty to the sovereign, while the infamy of forcing a son to his death shall fall on me.”
Chen Shao stared in shock, but Old Master Chen did not look at him again. Instead, he stepped down from the platform.
“…Time it well, and leave enough leeway for us to leave and return.”
Old Master Chen passed by Chen Shao, his words sounding dangerously chilling, yet his tone was as casual as if he were commenting on the day’s weather.
“Old Master!” The elderly servant could not help but kneel down.
Chen Shao called out “Father” and prostrated himself on the ground, kowtowing as he choked back sobs.
Old Master Chen did not pause his steps.
“Stay if you wish to stay. Whoever wishes to stay, may stay,” he said slowly.
Chen Shao rose to his feet, sobbing, and reached out to grasp the long sword.
“Master!” The elderly servant scrambled over on his knees, trying to stop him, his voice desperate.
“I have four sons. Even if one dies, I still have three. Even if the three are of ordinary talent, it matters little. I still have grandsons…”
Old Master Chen’s voice continued calmly.
“If the grandsons fail, there will be great-grandsons. If one generation does not succeed, there will be the next. As long as they remain honorable and upright, one will eventually rise to become a chancellor.”
Chen Shao gripped the sword tightly and buried his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.
“Grandfather!”
A clear and crisp voice came from outside the courtyard.
The three people in the courtyard all paused, turning to watch Chen Dan-niang rushing in through the gate.
Chen Dan-niang was already dressed for travel, her face flushed from hurrying.
“Dan-niang, why have you come here?” Old Master Chen said, extending a hand toward her. “Come, come with me.”
Chen Dan-niang did not take his hand. Instead, she knelt down.
“Grandfather, I wish to stay behind,” she said, kowtowing as she spoke.
Chen Shao, who had turned away and covered his face when Chen Dan-niang entered, unable to bear looking at her, now turned back with a complicated expression.
“Dan-niang…” he murmured.
Chen Dan-niang lifted her head and smiled at Old Master Chen.
“Grandfather, let me stay,” she said.
Old Master Chen’s expression turned sorrowful.
“Dan-niang, do you know what will happen if you stay behind?” he asked.
Chen Dan-niang nodded.
“Grandfather, I know. They tried to keep it from me, but I overheard everything,” she replied. “You want me to marry the Crown Prince.”
Before Old Master Chen could speak, Chen Dan-niang reached out and took hold of his sleeve.
“Grandfather, I want to marry the Crown Prince,” she said, her big eyes blinking. “I really like the Crown Prince.”
Upon hearing this, Chen Shao once again covered his face with his hands.
Old Master Chen shook his head and gently took Chen Dan-niang’s hand.
“Dan-niang, you do not truly like the Crown Prince. There is no need to deceive me with such words,” he said. “Come, listen to me. Let’s go. We can talk along the way.”
“No, no! Grandfather, I truly like the Crown Prince. He is quite nice – not frightening at all. If you smile at him, he will smile back at you,” Chen Dan-niang insisted loudly.
Old Master Chen did not respond. Instead, he simply tried to pull her up.
“Servants! How have you been watching over Dan-niang?” he shouted at the anxious and flustered maids and servants who had followed her into the courtyard.
The maids moved to lift Chen Dan-niang, but she broke free from Old Master Chen’s hold, prostrated herself, and kowtowed.
“Grandfather,” she cried out, “have you not always loved me most dearly? Would you really have me live my entire life burdened by the shame of forcing my own father to his death? Could you bear to let me carry that weight?”
Old Master Chen’s body stiffened.
“Grandfather, I am willing to marry the Crown Prince,” Chen Dan-niang continued, raising her head to look at him. “I truly am willing. This is no sacrifice for me.”
As he met her gaze, clear and pure as a spring, Old Master Chen’s expression filled with anguish. His lips trembled as he spoke.
“Dan-niang, you do not understand,” he said. “You don’t know how easily such words are spoken now, or how difficult the days ahead may be.”
Chen Dan-niang nodded.
“Grandfather, it’s true – I do not understand. But I do not want to live with regret,” she replied.
Old Master Chen shook his head and gently laid his hand on Chen Dan-niang’s head.
“Silly child, you will regret this one day,” he said, his voice choked.
“Grandfather, whether or not I regret it later is a matter for the future,” Chen Dan-niang said earnestly. “I only want to make sure I do not regret it now.”
As she spoke, she smiled softly and nodded.
“Yes, Grandfather. What I am doing now – I do not regret it.”
Old Master Chen lifted his hands to cover his face. Beside him, Chen Shao had already begun to sob openly.
Outside the courtyard gate, Madam Chen swayed on her feet, collapsed to the ground, and could no longer hold back – burying her face in her hands as she wept bitterly.
…
The lamps in the room were lit. Ban Qin quickly led the maids out, leaving the space quiet and intimate.
“Is that all?” Duke Jin’an asked.
Eunuch Jing bowed slightly in affirmation. “Minister Chen entered the palace in the afternoon, but he did not stay long. He left shortly after,” he reported.
The Duke’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward Cheng Jiao-niang.
She was sitting under the lamplight nearby, reading a book, seemingly undisturbed by their conversation.
“Still, there is no further news,” Eunuch Jing added softly.
Duke Jin’an nodded.
“After defying the imperial decree, Minister Chen could not simply turn around and accept it,” he said, then sighed faintly. “And since Minister Chen has made such a significant concession, the Empress Dowager will surely show him ample respect.”
Eunuch Jing responded with another respectful acknowledgement.
“Still, this will not be delayed for long – likely only a matter of two or three days,” he added.
Duke Jin’an lowered his gaze under the lamplight and gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement, his fingers curled around the teacup as he fell silent.
“At any rate, His Highness the Crown Prince is getting married,” Eunuch Jing couldn’t help but add. “The Chen family’s daughter is always better than anyone else…”
Duke Jin’an set down his teacup.
“You may go. I wish to rest,” he said.
Eunuch Jing responded awkwardly and withdrew.
The room fell quiet once more.
“It’s late. You should sleep,” Duke Jin’an said, turning to look at Cheng Jiao-niang. “Don’t read in the evening – it will strain your eyes.”
Cheng Jiao-niang said nothing. The Duke walked over, smiled, and gently nudged her arm.
“Stop reading. Help me wash my hair,” he said.
“I don’t know how to wash someone else’s hair,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
“Then I’ll wash yours,” the Duke said, his smile softening.
Listening to the sound of water from the washing area, Ban Qin outside couldn’t help but glance in its direction.
“…Your hair grows so beautifully…”
Inside, Duke Jin’an’s voice could still be heard.
“…Is the water too cold? Should I add more?”
“His Highness truly knows how to wash someone’s hair,” Su Xin whispered with a soft smile.
Ban Qin recalled the sound of the copper basin clattering from inside earlier and lowered her head, suppressing a smile. Just as she was about to speak, she saw Duke Jin’an emerge from the washing area.
“Attend to Madam’s washing and preparations for bed,” he said.
Ban Qin quickly responded with a respectful “yes” and went inside.
By the time Duke Jin’an finished his own washing and stepped out, Cheng Jiao-niang was already lying in bed. The maids and attendants in the room had all withdrawn. He casually picked up a cup of water that had been poured earlier and took a sip.
“Would you like some water?” he asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head.
Duke Jin’an set down the cup, extinguished the lamp, and after some quiet rustling, climbed over her to settle on the inner side of the bed.
“It really is as you said,” he murmured, gently nudging the person beside him.
“As I said what?” came her voice in the dimness.
Duke Jin’an turned onto his side, lying so he could look at the figure beside him through the hazy netting under the moonlight.
“If you sleep in the same bed, you’ll grow used to it,” he said with a light laugh.
Cheng Jiao-niang let out a soft laugh as well.
“Fang Bocong,” she said.
Duke Jin’an responded with a quiet “Hmm?”
“I am fine,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “I already knew Minister Chen would agree to this. I had expected it all along.”
She had foreseen it from the start.
Thank you for caring about me this way.
She understood everything – both kindness and unkindness directed at her – and she understood it all clearly.
Duke Jin’an let out a soft sigh in his heart.
“But even if you expected it, it can still be painful,” he said. Unable to resist, he reached out and gently touched the long hair spread across the pillow, then quickly withdrew his hand.
“Me?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, turning her head to look at him.
In the darkness, her eyes gleamed softly.
“I am not sad,” she said. “This is not my affair. ‘You are not the fish, how do you know what brings the fish joy?’ Since this is someone else’s matter, why should I feel sorrow over it?” [1]
Duke Jin’an smiled.
“Yes, I thought too much,” he said softly, then sighed. “Dan-niang is a good child, yet she has met with such a situation. She must be sad.”
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head slightly against the pillow.
“No, she is not sad,” she replied.
Duke Jin’an propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her.
“Oh?” he said, smiling. “‘You are not the fish, how do you know what brings the fish joy?'”
“Because, in truth, I am also a fish,” Cheng Jiao-niang answered.
…
As dawn broke and the city gates had just opened, the guards, still bleary-eyed with sleep, were preparing to sweep and tidy up when a carriage came swaying out of the gates.
Whose family is setting out so early? the guards wondered, watching with curiosity.
This did not look like the departure of poor folk striving to survive.
Just then, the rapid sound of hooves echoed from within the city. The guards looked over and saw a middle-aged man on horseback.
“Chancellor Chen!” one of the guards recognized him at a glance, his face turning pale with shock.
Before they could even offer a proper salute, Chen Shao’s horse had already sped through the city gates.
“Father!”
The horse was reined in before the carriage. Chen Shao’s voice was hoarse, his face pale, and his eyes rimmed red. He dismounted and knelt on the ground, kowtowing.
“You need not stop me,” Old Master Chen said, lifting the carriage curtain. “Your children are yours to decide. My children are mine to decide. Chen Shao, from now on, I shall consider myself without this son of mine. If you truly wish to fulfill both loyalty and filial duty, then trouble us no more.”
Chen Shao sobbed, kowtowing and crying out, “Father!”
“What? Do you truly intend to force me to bow to your grand righteousness as well?” Old Master Chen asked with a faint smile. “Do you wish to pressure me into making my refusal to forgive and understand you into my own wrongdoing?”
“I would never dare!” Chen Shao replied, lifting his head to reveal a bruised, purplish mark on his forehead.
“If you dare not, then that is well,” Old Master Chen said. “Now step aside.”
Chen Shao kowtowed once more. The elderly servant driving the carriage could no longer bear to watch.
“Master, let it be… Please, let the old master go,” he whispered softly.
Let him go…
Chen Shao’s entire body trembled. He bent forward deeply, burying his face, then shuffled forward on his knees to the side of the road, clearing the way.
The carriage swayed onward. Old Master Chen, having let the curtain fall, did not spare Chen Shao another glance.
The carriage moved farther and farther away. More and more travelers appeared on the road, yet Chen Shao, kneeling at the roadside, never rose. He simply remained there, enduring the startled whispers and pointing fingers of passersby.
Only when Chen Shao behind them had shrunk to a mere speck in the distance did the old servant finally let out a sigh. He lifted his head to glance at the sky.
The early autumn heavens, unlike their usual lofty expanse, hung low and gloomy.
“It looks like rain,” he murmured to himself.
Old Master Chen lifted the carriage curtain and gazed at the sky, his expression growing distant.
“Hmm, those are mackerel clouds – rain is coming,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of recollection. “Do you remember? The first time we met Lady Cheng, it was just like this.”
The old servant paused, his mind reaching back six years, though the memories had grown hazy.
“If we hadn’t met her back then, I would have been dead for years now,” Old Master Chen said with a faint smile, then paused before continuing, “And if I had heeded her words back then, perhaps I would never have come to the capital.”
If he had never come to the capital, perhaps today’s events would never have unfolded.
The old servant’s expression turned sorrowful.
“Old Master,” he said softly.
Old Master Chen let out a sigh.
“Although she cured my illness, I still have to return to the countryside in the end. So it’s said: one can treat a disease, but not destiny,” he murmured. “Destiny is shaped by one’s own choices. One cannot blame others.”
Before the news of Chen Shao kneeling to see Old Master Chen off from the capital could even spread far and wide, just three days later, the imperial decree officially proclaiming the Nineteenth Young Lady of the Chen family as Crown Princess was announced to the realm.
Cheng Jiao-niang was practicing archery on the training grounds when she received this news, brought to her personally by Duke Jin’an.
With a soft thrum, the arrow embedded itself in the bullseye of the straw target, its feathers trembling faintly in the sunlight.
“Though it may not be convenient for us to venture out, you should still pay a visit to the Chen household,” Duke Jin’an said.
He paused, offering a bitter smile.
“Minister Chen likely won’t mind facing a few more memorials of impeachment or rounds of ridicule on account of our visit.”
Cheng Jiao-niang lowered the bow in her hands but had not yet spoken when Su Xin came hurrying over from the distance.
“Madam, Madam – Steward Cao has arrived!” she called out happily.
Steward Cao?
Cheng Jiao-niang looked over.
Ban Qin, who had also heard the news, showed a trace of delight as well. He had finally come – why so late? By her reckoning, he should have arrived two days ago.
Su Xin stopped in front of them, her face bright with joy.
“And Cheng Ping came with him too,” she added.
Cheng Ping?
Duke Jin’an had not yet had time to register the name when Cheng Jiao-niang threw down the bow in her hands and strode swiftly outward.
Threw down the bow! Striding off!
He had never seen her lose her composure like this.
But what followed was even more startling – she broke into a run, her outer robe and wide sleeves, the hem of her skirt all flying in the morning light.
Who is that?!
Duke Jin’an stared in astonishment.
Who is that?!
Translator’s Notes:
[1] This line, “You are not a fish, how do you know what brings the fish joy?” is a famous saying from the Daoist text 《庄子·秋水》 (Zhuangzi · Autumn Floods).
The Original Story: Zhuangzi and his friend Huizi were strolling on a bridge over the Hao River. Zhuangzi said, “The minnows are swimming at ease. This is the joy of the fish.” Huizi retorted, “You are not a fish. How do you know what brings the fish joy?” Zhuangzi replied, “You are not me. How do you know that I don’t know the joy of the fish?”
It debates the limits of knowledge and empathy. Can we ever truly understand the inner experience of another being? It highlights the subjectivity of experience and warns against projecting our own feelings onto others.
