In the quiet of the Flower Hall, Du Jingyi [the General’s Wife] felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winter air. She mused that her cousin, Du Jingxian, was truly a man without fear—or perhaps a man without sense. The small plot of land their family held was enough for a dignified life; why must he gamble with the fury of young lords? Did he not realize that if he lost their silver, those pampered masters would not hesitate to take his life?
“How much did the Third Branch contribute?” Du Jingyi asked, her voice low.
“I do not know the exact figure,” Madam Du [Mistress of House Du] replied, “but I estimate at least five hundred taels of silver.”
Five hundred taels. For Shang Sanlang [the Third Son of the Duke’s collateral line] and his wife, such a sum likely meant emptying every lacquer box and hidden pouch they possessed. Du Jingyi’s expression darkened into a heavy silence. It was not pity that moved her—she held little love for the Duke’s extended kin—but rather a distaste for seeing the only “barely acceptable bamboo shoots” of that branch, Sanlang and his wife, be uprooted by a fool’s scheme. She weighed the necessity of a warning.
The arrival of a servant broke her reverie. “Madam, the preparations are complete. Shall the feast begin?”
Madam Du glanced at the sky; the sun had reached its zenith. “Time flies. Invite the Master, the General, and my Sister-in-law[ Eldest du daughter’s mother-in-law]. Let them dine first. For my eldest daughter, Xiangniang [Du Jingxiang], prepare a bowl of light white porridge to be sent to her bedside once she stirs.”
“Mother, do not worry,” Du Jingyi said as they rose. “I shall handle the matter of the Third Branch with care.”
The atmosphere in the Flower Hall was a tapestry of smiles when they arrive. Uncle He [the elder from Pingzhou], looking relaxed after the birth of his grandson, chuckled as he surveyed the table. “The Du family cook is a marvel. My wife has been here but a few days and she is already ‘quite full’! I fear we shall need a more spacious carriage for the journey back to Pingzhou.”
Master Du [Head of House Du] patted his own round belly, laughing heartily. “Fear not, Brother-in-law[Father-in-law of Du’s eldest dauhter] ! Our stables are full of wide carriages.”
The men raised their jiu [rice wine] cups in a celebratory toast. He Shilin [the Eldest Brother-in-law], his face glowing with a mixture of pride and relief, stood to address the room. “Now that my child is born and Xiangniang is safe, my heart is full. I have no way to repay the lengths my parents-in-law and my own parents have gone through, but I swear to treat Xiangniang with devotion and raise our son to be healthy and robust.”
“Just being robust is not enough,” Du Jingyi quipped with a playful tilt of her head. “He must be like his father—a scholar with a bright future at the Imperial Court.”
The He family elders beamed, their eyes crinkling until they were but slits of joy. They were waiting for He Shilin to complete the Imperial Examinations before returning south, and Jingyi’s blessing of a “bright future” felt like a lucky omen to them.
Shang Ji [The Imperial General] shared a silent cup with his brother-in-law. Though he walked the path of the sword and knew little of civil bureaucracy, he resolved that if He Shilin had the talent to enter the court, he would provide the necessary wind beneath his wings as family.
As the snow slowed to a mere dusting, Madam Du insisted the couple depart. “Xiangniang is resting, and you must protect your own health, Tangtang. Do not brave the drifts to visit again until the New Year has passed.”
Du Jingyi nodded, knowing her mother’s heart. After the farewells at the gate, she and Shang Ji boarded their carriage. The streets of Sui’an were no longer deserted; the rhythmic thwack-thwack of bamboo brooms hitting the bluestone echoed through the air as laborers cleared the calves-deep snow.
Inside the carriage, a soft, sensual tension hung in the air. Shang Ji, conscious that the scent of the wine might offend his pregnant wife’s heightened senses, sat a deliberate distance away. Du Jingyi, however, found the faint, spicy aroma of the wine mingled with his natural sandalwood scent rather intoxicating. She leaned slightly toward him, recounting the danger Sanlang faced with Du Jingian.
“I dislike them,” she admitted, “but Du Jingxian is still of my blood. If the Third Branch loses everything because of a Du family member’s greed, the fallout will eventually stain our gates.”
Shang Ji listened with the same focused intensity he gave to a battlefield map. He reached out, his calloused thumb tracing the line of her jaw in a fleeting, heated touch. “I understand. I shall handle the Third Brother. So do not let these shadows flicker in your mind.”
On the seventh day after the birth—the day of the Zhuazhou [though often celebrated later, the naming was paramount now]—word reached the General’s Mansion.
“He Qianyun,” Du Jingyi murmured, tasting the name. “It is a fine name. Looking back where the heroes sang, the evening clouds stretch for miles. It possesses a boundless expanse.”
“And the milk-name?” she asked. “Yun-ge’er [Little Cloud]?”
Li Zhu [the maid] smiled brightly. “Young Madam is truly clever! That is exactly what the Master decided.”
Yingtao chuckled, teasing the younger maid. “Our Li Zhu has learned to flatter with a silver tongue! How is it ‘clever’ to guess a nickname so obvious?”
Li Zhu did not blush. “It is thanks to Sister Yingtao’s excellent teaching!”
“You brat!” Yingtao swung a playful fist at her .
Li Zhu giggled and ducked. “My sister says if I do not learn to manage my spirits, I shall be suffocated by Mr. Liu [the martial arts instructor]. He makes me train for two hours a day, and I barely utter ten words to him!” She crossed her fingers in a gesture of mock-strangulation, sending the room into a fit of laughter.Li Zhu looked somewhat aggrieved, her young face clouded with a pensive frown. Seeing her maid in such a state, Du Jingyi offered a gentle, knowing smile.
“What is the matter, child?” she asked, her voice like silk. “Have you grown weary of your lessons because they lack excitement?”
“No, not at all,” Li Zhu replied quickly, her eyes widening. “Mr. Liu [a master of martial arts] is a man of few words, but his prowess is truly profound. I have studied under him for half a month now with all my heart, yet I fret… I do not know how much longer he will remain to teach me.”
Though Li Zhu was unaware of Mr. Liu’s secret identity, she sensed he was no mere manor guard. Du Jingyi watched her, a pang of bittersweet realization hitting her heart. They would not be “house sparrows” huddling in the eaves of Sui’an City forever; eventually, they would be eagles returning to the rugged winds of Cezhou.
“Learn as much as your spirit can hold,” Du Jingyi encouraged, her hand resting on her stomach. “Even now, your skills are a credit to this house.”
The conversation shifted to the domestic front. “When the General returns tonight, he begins a period of rest until the sixteenth of the first lunar month. Ensure the training grounds and the guards’ quarters are scrubbed clean. We must not delay his preparations.”
Yingtao chuckled softly. “Young Madam, has the cold slowed your memory? You gave those orders two days ago. Everything is ready. Even if the General returns with a small army of fifty men, we have ample room and soft beds for them all.”
Du Jingyi patted her forehead, laughing at herself. “It is the frost. When the body is cold, the mind grows timid and the thoughts scatter like dry leaves.”
“Oh? And if your mind is already failing at your age, what does that say for us old women? Are we to be considered utterly dull and stupid?”
The voice, sharp and full of mirth, announced the arrival of Madam Xing. Du Jingyi rose to greet her guests as Madam Xing shed her heavy sable cloak, followed by Madam Liu and the young Xue Niang.
“Aunt, what brings you out in this weather?” Du Jingyi asked as the three women settled by the brazier.
“I was bored within my own four walls,” Madam Xing said. “I ran into these two on the path, and seeing the light in their eyes, I had to follow.”
Xue Niang could hardly contain herself. “Sixth Sister-in-law! We heard the news from the Du family—a healthy baby boy! And yet you kept such a joy hidden from us.”
“It was not a secret,” Du Jingyi laughed, feeling the warmth of their collective excitement. “I only thought to wait until Yun-ge’er [Little Cloud] was a month old so we might all go and congratulate him together.”
“Yun-ge’er… a poetic name,” Madam Liu mused. “And his formal name?”
“He Qianyun.”
Madam Liu repeated it, savoring the syllables. “Elegant and grand. One can tell his father is a scholar bound for the Imperial Examinations.”
Madam Xing nodded, then turned a piercing, maternal gaze toward Du Jingyi. “Speaking of names, you two must begin your own preparations. Whether it be a son or a daughter, gather a list of auspicious characters so we may choose the best among them.”
“Aunt, is it not a bit premature?” Du Jingyi asked, a blush creeping up her neck. “I am not even four months along.”
“Not early at all!” Madam Xing insisted. “Winter days are slow, but once the spring thaw comes, time will move as fast as your belly grows.”
Xue Niang tentatively pulled a small bundle from her sleeve. “Sixth Sister-in-law, look. I made this for Yun-ge’er.”
It was a humaotou [a traditional tiger-head hat meant to ward off evil spirits]. The stitching, learned from Madam Liu, was impeccable. The exterior was crisp and vibrant, while the interior was lined with the softest silk to protect a newborn’s skin.
“It is perfect,” Du Jingyi whispered, touching the tiny embroidered ears. “I shall have Li Zhu deliver it. He will be the most handsome baby at his full-month feast.”
Then, Madam Liu presented her gift: a Baijiabei [a “Hundred-Family Quilt”].
“I had Ou Mama [a senior servant] source the finest down,” Madam Liu explained softly. “And these scraps of cloth… I spent weeks collecting them from families with the healthiest, cleverest children in the city. It carries their luck, so that your nephew may grow strong and wise.”
Du Jingyi’s throat tightened. This was a gift of time and intention, far more precious than gold. “Sister-in-law… I am moved beyond words.”
Madam Xing, watching the display of sisterly devotion, gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Oh dear, you two have made this old woman look quite stingy!” She waved a hand, and a maid presented a small, lacquered box.
Inside lay a Changming Suo [a “Long Life Lock” necklace] made of gold-inlaid jade, with matching bracelets and anklets. The jade was translucent, a “mutton-fat” quality that spoke of immense wealth.
“I lack the nimble fingers of your sisters,” Madam Xing said, “so I must rely on my purse. Please, do not find it too gaudy.”
“Aunt, it is far too precious,” Du Jingyi protested.
“Nonsense,” Madam Xing countered firmly. “It is the thought that weighs the most. We are family, and we celebrate together.”