As the winter frost deepened over Sui’an City, a stark contrast emerged between the two great households of the Shang clan. While the Duke’s Mansion hummed with the frantic sounds of reconstruction, the General’s Mansion had become a sanctuary of warmth and refined grace.
Madam Wei now the primary wife and current manager of the household, found herself trapped in a web of necessity and pride. That afternoon, she dispatched Granny Jiao [Jiao Momo, a trusted senior servant] to scout for a bricklaying team. By a twist of fate, the most reputable team available was the very one that had recently completed work on the General’s Mansion.
In Sui’an, the standards for such craftsmen were stringent; only those with high-level expertise and a flawless reputation could undertake imperial-grade estates. The team that had served Du Jingyi was undeniably the city’s finest.
Madam Wei hesitated, a bitter taste rising in her throat. To her, Du Jingyi [the wife of the Sixth Son] was the hidden “culprit” behind the fire that had devoured their pavilions. To use the same craftsmen as her felt like a slight to her dignity. However, the team offered a “friendship” discount—ten percent lower than their competitors. In a project of this magnitude, that small percentage represented tens of thousands of taels of silver.
Ten thousand taels, she mused, adjusting her silk shawl. That was money that could be set aside as a private dowry or inheritance for her children. Practicality eventually smothered her pride, and she signed the contracts.
Knowing the project would span two or three years, she took precautions to shield the family’s daily life. A temporary wall was erected along the main thoroughfare of the estate, separating the Yun Jin Courtyard and the West Garden from the construction zones. Granny Jiao kept the heavy iron padlock’s key at her waist, peering through the small gate every ten days to supervise. Within the Duke’s Mansion, the “eyesores” were gone, and the hope of a grander future began to take root in the residents heart.
This hope was bolstered when the Prince of Fu’s mansion, seeking to settle the debt of the recent scandal, delivered 200,000 taels of silver. Aunt Shang [the Duke’s eldest daughter and Princess of Fu] arrived in person, her carriage laden with gold and promises. She had always been fond of her nephew, Shang Zhihe [the injured son of her brother], and with her humble apologies, the feud was officially cauterized. Even Si Lang’s [the Fourth Son’s] wife and snag Zhihe’s mother, who had previously gritted her teeth in hatred toward the Prince’s house, found her anger cooled by the sheer weight of the reparation.
While the Duke’s Mansion was a hive of dust and noise, the General’s Mansion—the home of Du Jingyi and the Sixth son—was a marvel of modern comfort.
Inside the greenhouse of the Xitang Courtyard, the air was soft and fragrant. Madam Xing [a high-ranking maternal aunt from the prestigious Xing family of Jinling] sat upon a round chair carved from precious nanmu [a rare, fragrant cedar], sighing with contentment.
“This house is so comfortable,” Madam Xing remarked, her eyes sweeping over the blooming flowers despite the snow outside. “It is like being back in Jinling. The air isn’t dry or cracked, and we can enjoy the flora in the heart of winter. Jingyi, you truly are a clever soul.”
Madam Liu [the Eldest Sister-in-law, wife of the first branch], who had grown pleasantly plump and relaxed since moving in, nodded in agreement. Initially, she had viewed the greenhouse as an extravagance, but now she could hardly bear to leave it.
“Indeed,” Madam Liu echoed with a smile. “Xue Niang [the Eighth Sister] used to complain that the winter cold turned her fingers to stone, making her needlework impossible. Now, she has moved her embroidery frame into her own greenhouse. She is more diligent now than she ever was in the sweltering heat of summer!”
Nearby, Xue Niang remained bent over her silk, her needle darting like a silver fish, oblivious to the teasing.
Madam Xing laughed, savoring a delicate pastry. “It is no wonder that even in the heaviest blizzards, Sixth son [the General] rushes back every few days. With such delicious food, a warm hearth, and a beloved wife—not to mention the babe soon to arrive—if I were him, I should never find the strength to leave these gates.”
Du Jingyi, now a little over three months into her pregnancy, felt a deep affection for the elder woman. Unlike the stifling atmosphere of the Duke’s Mansion, Madam Xing felt less like an intimidating elder and more like a cherished confidante.
“I suspect Uncle [Lord Xing] agrees with you,” Du Jingyi teased gently. “Otherwise, why would he send a letter every fortnight urging your return? How many letters has it been now, Aunt?”
“You little brat,” Madam Xing laughed, a faint blush of a long-happily-married woman touching her cheeks. “Making fun of your elders!”
Lord and Madam Xing were famously well-matched, and though they had intended to stay in the north for only a short time, the comforts of the General’s Mansion had stretched their visit to two months. Lord Xing’s letters from Jinling had become increasingly poetic and desperate, reminding Du Jingyi of the old verse: “The flowers are blooming on the path; Madam may slowly return.”
The conversation soon turned to the younger generation. Madam Liu, finding herself with little to do now that her children were settled, turned her focus to matchmaking.
“Aunt,” Madam Liu suggested, “I see that Cousin Zhao [Xing Zhao] is reaching a prime age for marriage. Have you a particular lady in mind?”
Madam Xing’s smile faltered into a look of genuine worry. “That boy… I truly don’t know what is wrong with him. In Jinling, we introduced him to over a dozen daughters of noble houses, and he dismissed them all. Even here in Sui’an, the Empress Dowager [the Emperor’s mother] asked me privately about his prospects, but he hasn’t looked twice at any of the families she suggested. I wonder if he is waiting for a fairy to descend from the heavens.”
Madam Liu’s eyes brightened. “Since Grandmother and the rest of the elders are arriving in a few days for the housewarming banquet, why don’t we cast a wide net? Let Sixth Brother and Jingyi send out invitations to all the prominent families. We can observe the young ladies in a natural setting—it won’t be as awkward as a formal introduction.”
“And don’t forget our Eighth Sister,” Du Jingyi added, glancing toward the diligent Xue Niang. “Her coming-of-age ceremony [Ji Li] is approaching. We should begin considering families for her as well.”
Madam Xing patted Du Jingyi’s hand, her spirit lifted. “With so many sharp eyes watching, we shall surely find Xue Niang a husband worthy of her, and perhaps finally find a match to tether that wandering son of mine!”Within the warmth of the General’s Mansion, the air was thick with the scent of blossoming winter plum and the quiet anticipation of the coming year.
Du Jingyi watched Xue Niang [the Eighth Sister] with a gaze that held more than sisterly affection; though they were sisters-in-law by name, Jingyi had practically raised the girl, making her more akin to a daughter in her heart. Naturally, she shouldered the burden of the girl’s future.
As they sat, Madam Liu [the Eldest Sister-in-law] leaned in, her curiosity finally overcoming her reserve. “I heard from Granny Dou [a senior servant and confidante] that you have extended your influence back into the Duke’s Mansion? Is it true?”
Madam Liu asked not to probe or test, but out of genuine wonder. Since moving into the General’s Mansion, she had seen how Du Jingyi’s capable hand turned the household into a place of supreme comfort. She was now content to simply follow Jingyi’s lead.
Du Jingyi smiled, adjusting the folds of her ao [a lined winter jacket]. “Indeed. Madam Wei [Furen] wishes to embark on a grand renovation of the Duke’s Mansion. When I heard the Prince of Fu’s mansion had delivered 200,000 taels of silver to her door, I knew the project would be vast. I simply arranged for the bricklayers to offer her a ten-percent discount. That was enough to win her over.”
Madam Xing [the high-ranking maternal aunt] looked up, puzzled. “But you have all moved out. Why concern yourself with her repairs? She is building a nest for her own children and grandchildren. Why get involved?”
Du Jingyi popped a candied fruit into her mouth, her expression unreadable. “That is not necessarily the end of it, Aunt. The East Garden is ash, and the North Garden is a hollow shell. To restore them to their former glory will take two or three years. Who can say what the world will look like then?” She smiled softly. “I simply enjoy watching Madam Wei frantically weave a wedding dress for someone else to wear.”
Madam Xing laughed, but her eyes grew deep with realization. She knew Shang Ji [the General] was the rightful heir to the Duke’s title, yet the couple seemed strangely indifferent to it. Suddenly, she thought of young Shang Zhiping, currently training under the General’s wing.
She understood then: Du Jingyi was paving the way for the nephew to inherit. By doing so, Shang Ji’s future achievements could transcend a mere inherited title, or perhaps they simply wished for their own children to live free of the Mansion’s suffocating politics. Madam Xing felt a surge of admiration; such magnanimity was rare.
Du Jingyi, however, merely looked innocent. In her mind, watching Madam Wei—a woman who had spent a lifetime scheming—be the victim of her own greed was the ultimate justice. Yingtao [her personal maidservant], seeing that hidden smugness in her mistress’s smile, knew the trap was set.
The fifth day of the twelfth lunar month [the La Month] arrived with a dignified flurry of rituals. Though they had lived there for weeks, this formal housewarming was conducted with imperial-grade pomp.
The servants were the most jubilant. Steward He and Granny Dou were strict, but even they couldn’t stem the tide of Du Jingyi’s generosity. Each servant received sixty-six taels of silver—a sum many would not see in a decade—and three new, thick jackets. The staff beamed like ripe watermelons, working with a meticulous enthusiasm rarely seen in Sui’an.
Du Jingyi knew that “sweet treats” ensured loyalty. If a master was generous, the servants would never trade a lifetime of security for a pittance of a bribe.
Outside, the racket of firecrackers filled the air, sounding like an early New Year. Steward He directed the scattering of candy and coins to the common folk, while others distributed hot porridge to the poor. The onlookers responded with a chorus of auspicious blessings.
It was into this scene of joy that Shang Ji [The General] returned, riding at the head of his men. A rare, genuine smile played on his lips.
Luo Yuan [a high-ranking lieutenant], riding alongside, grinned. “General, you must earn more rewards from the Emperor! If the Young Mistress continues to squander gold like this, we shall have to pawn the General’s Mansion in a few years!”
Shang Ji gave him a sharp, sidelong glance. “I think the air at the frontier has made your heart too wild. Perhaps you need two weeks back at the Tiger Legion’s camp to settle your mind?”
Luo Yuan quickly shut his mouth, realizing he had poked the General’s soft spot: his wife.
As Shang Ji dismounted, Steward He and Granny Dou rushed forward, their eyes shining. “General, you are back!”
The crowd soon noticed the majestic figure. The people bowed, offering their sincere thanks for the rewards. Shang Ji raised a hand, his voice steady and resonant. “I, like you, am a benefactor of the Emperor’s grace. You should thank His Majesty, for it is his peace that allows us this bounty.”
With that single, politically brilliant sentence, he dispelled any whispers of the General’s Mansion being too “extravagant” or “independent.” He then turned and strode into his home, eager to find the woman who had turned a house of stone into a sanctuary of warmth for him.