Returning to these familiar streets stirred a tempest of emotion within Old Madam Gu and Nanny Qin.
“I have remained shuttered within the walls of Jinling for so long, unwilling to step beyond the gate,” the Matriarch murmured, her voice trembling slightly as she looked through the carriage window. “I never imagined Sui’an City could transform so utterly!”
“Is it not the truth?” Nanny Qin replied, her eyes damp. “Now that you have returned, Laofuren [Old Madam], you must remain for many days. Let the Young General have his chance to properly fulfill his filial duties.”
Old Madam Gu offered a fragile smile. She knew better than anyone that her grandson, Shaoyu, was a child of deep virtue. Beside them, Gu Xiaolang—who had been a chatterbox for the entire journey—was now unnaturally still. She stared blankly, showing no interest in the vibrant commerce of the capital. Old Madam Gu and Nanny Qin exchanged a look of quiet concern, but some shadows are best left undisturbed until they are ready to be named.
As the carriage slowed to a crawl before the main gates of the General’s Mansion, a heavy silence fell. For the Matriarch, this was more than a homecoming; it was a confrontation with a past life. The last time she had been here, she had accompanied the late Marshal Gu on official business. They had stayed only a month before departing for Cezhou—a journey from which the Marshal never returned. She had eventually brought the caskets of her husband and sons back to Jinling, vowing never to leave again.
“Have we arrived?” the Old Madam asked softly.
“We have, Laofuren.”
Nanny Qin and Gu Xiaolang moved to assist the seventy-year-old Matriarch as she alighted. Despite her years, she moved with a sprightly dignity. When her eyes fell upon the three carved characters of the “General’s Mansion” plaque, she was momentarily transported. In her mind, she could see her lost grandchildren racing through those doors, and herself still in the vibrant prime of her life.
“Grandmother? What troubles you?” Gu Xiaolang asked, her brow furrowing with worry.
The entire family knew the source of the Matriarch’s distress. They had guarded her carefully in Jinling, fearing that the ghosts of the past might claim her health. Shang Ji dismounted and strode over, his heart tightening as he saw her staring fixedly at the plaque. He had brought her North to find peace, not to be trapped once more in the amber of painful memories.
“Come inside, Grandmother,” Shang Ji said, his voice deep and grounding. “It is quite spacious within.”
The Old Madam blinked, her grandson’s voice tethering her back to the present. Seeing the raw worry in his eyes, she patted his hand in a rare gesture of comfort. “Shaoyu, do not overthink it. The elderly simply like to reminisce. You have survived these years; this old woman can certainly survive a few memories.”
Shang Ji took over from Nanny Qin, joining Gu Xiaolang in supporting the Matriarch as they crossed the threshold. Behind them, Du Jingyi walked with a calm, measured pace.
Madam Xing leaned in toward Jingyi, whispering, “Aunt’s resolve is extraordinary. You and your husband need not walk on eggshells; treat her simply as you would any beloved grandmother.”
“I thank Aunt for her guidance,” Jingyi replied with a grateful nod.
As they moved through the residence, the two Gu aunts—one in a blue doupeng [a full-length hooded cloak] and the other in graceful pale yellow—observed their surroundings with keen, quiet eyes. They were not women of gossip, but they were reserved, watching to see how this new mistress managed the house.
The Gu family was visibly startled by the mansion’s interior. The original Marshal’s residence had been a place of iron and stone—resolute, austere, and masculine. But the current General’s Mansion breathed with a different soul. It was elegant and peaceful, possessing the refined weight of a noble estate without a hint of garish ostentation.
“Is this not a new mansion?” Old Madam Gu asked, her curiosity piqued. “Why does it feel so… established? Shaoyu, did your wife oversee the renovations?”
“Indeed,” Shang Ji answered, his voice carrying a note of pride. “Once I received the keys, I placed them in her hands. It took but a few months for her to transform it entirely.”
“Not bad,” the Matriarch conceded. “Very well done.”
Shang Ji’s smile widened at the rare praise. “It is a pity the East Garden was lost to fire, Grandmother. You would have loved the courtyard where she lived for three years; it was even more exquisite.”
Seeing the way her grandson looked at his wife, the Matriarch felt a sense of relief. The young couple’s hearts are intertwined, she noted silently. Beside her, Gu Xiaolang’s fingers grew cold, though she kept them hidden within her sleeves.
“Grandmother, you must be exhausted,” Shang Ji said. “We shall skip the tour for now. Let me lead you and my Aunts to the West Courtyard to rest.”
They bypassed the front hall, heading for the newly renovated guest wing. Du Jingyi had thoughtfully commissioned the building of nuange [greenhouses/warm enclosures] in each courtyard to shield the elders from the winter chill. As they walked along the huilang [covered walkways], not a single drop of slush touched their silk shoes.
The West Courtyard was divided into primary and secondary suites: Xu Lai Courtyard was the main residence, flanked by Huan Yun and Meng Yu. As they reached the gates of Xu Lai Courtyard, they were greeted by the sight of two lamei [red-stamened sandalwood plum trees] in full, vibrant bloom. Against the white snow, the red blossoms looked like a masterpiece painted on silk.
Knowing from Madam Xing that red plums were the Matriarch’s favorite, Jingyi had placed them there as a silent welcome. A genuine smile finally broke across the Old Madam’s face.
“It must have taken immense effort to find and transplant such fine specimens,” the Matriarch remarked.
Shang Ji turned to his wife, his gaze softening. “This grandson does not know the details of the gardening; I shall let Du-shi [Madam Du] speak to you.” He gestured toward Jingyi. “Madam, please, explain your arrangements to Grandmother.”Du Jingyi stepped forward, her movements graceful despite the slight weight of her pregnancy. She bowed softly before explaining, “While I resided in the East Garden, I was fortunate to have the aid of master gardeners from Suzhou. They are artisans of the earth, meticulously pruning and cultivating each branch to achieve such beauty.”
She looked at the Matriarch with a gentle smile. “If Grandmother finds them pleasing, I shall have a few more transplanted before the greenhouse windows. That way, you need only lift your eyes to see the blossoms.”
The sentiment struck a chord deep within Old Madam Gu. It mirrored her courtyard in Jinling, where red-stamened plums had been her constant companions. She looked at Jingyi with newfound appreciation, the wrinkles at her temples softening with a genuine smile.
“No need for such trouble,” the Matriarch replied. “Simply find a white porcelain vase and break off a few branches for the window sill. That will suffice.”
“As Grandmother wishes,” Jingyi replied dutifully. Even the discerning Nanny Qin, who had spent a lifetime observing the etiquette of the high-born, found nothing to criticize in Jingyi’s conduct. A glint of satisfaction warmed the old nanny’s eyes.
As the party entered Xu Lai Courtyard, a wave of warmth enveloped them. It was a startling sensation; the Sui’an winter was notoriously brutal, yet here, the air felt like a mild spring day.
“How is this possible?” Old Madam Gu asked, truly perplexed. “I remember the winters of this city being nearly unendurable without a heavy charcoal brazier.”
Du Jingyi pointed toward the ground. “Grandmother, do you see those channels?” Beneath their feet were narrow ditches covered by bricks carved with elegant yunwen [cloud-patterned openwork]. “They are filled with circulating hot water. It allows the courtyard to remain as warm as spring even amidst the frost.”
Wisps of white steam rose through the brickwork, veiling the garden in a misty, ethereal glow. It looked less like a residence and more like a xianjing [a fairyland of the immortals]. Even Gu Xiaolang, despite her hidden reservations, could not help but admire the ingenuity and dedication Jingyi had poured into the renovation.
Inside the greenhouse, the temperature rose further, making heavy furs feel burdensome. Once the maids had served tea and the elders had washed, the formal family greetings began.
Shang Ji led Du Jingyi to his side. Together with his sister-in-law Liu, his sister Xue Niang, and his nephew Zhiping, they knelt before the Matriarch. They performed the sangui jiukou [three prostrations and nine kowtows], their foreheads touching the floor in a display of profound respect.
“The greeting at the gate was hurried; please forgive our lack of ceremony, Grandmother,” Jingyi said. Her protruding belly made the deep bend difficult, a detail the Matriarch noticed immediately.
“You are with child; there is no need for such rigor,” Old Madam Gu said, gesturing for Nanny Qin to assist her up. “From this day forward, you are exempt from the kowtow in my presence.”
Shang Ji beamed at his wife. “Grandmother dotes on you; you must not refuse her grace.”
The couple shared a look of private, radiant affection. Watching them, Gu Xiaolang’s face darkened, a flicker of sharp discomfort crossing her features. She endured it in silence, though her heart was far from peaceful.
“You have all been busy this morning,” the Matriarch eventually sighed. “We must unpack, and the elderly require rest. Return to us at dinner.”
Shang Ji nodded. “Then we shall not disturb you. The West Wing is prepared: Grandmother and Fourth Aunt shall reside here in Xu Lai Courtyard; Aunt Xing and her son in Huan Yun; and Third Aunt with Cousin Lang in Meng Yu.”
“Cousin Shaoyu,” Gu Xiaolang interrupted, her voice trembling with a well-practiced vulnerability. “Might I live here in Xu Lai Courtyard with Grandmother? I wish to stay by her side.”
Jingyi’s mind raced. To live with the Matriarch was to ensure she would see Shang Ji every time he came to pay his respects—which was daily. This young miss is far more shrewd than she appears, Jingyi thought.
Old Madam Gu glanced at her granddaughter, clearly sensing the impropriety of the request. But before she could deny it, she saw Xiaolang’s eyes glistening with unshed tears. With a heavy sigh, the Matriarch remained silent—a tacit surrender.
The aunts quickly rearranged themselves to accommodate the girl’s whim, with Fourth Aunt Zhang graciously offering to move in with Third Aunt. Du Jingyi watched the exchange with a cold clarity. The realization hit her: the Gu family knew of Xiaolang’s intentions. Perhaps this journey North was not just a reunion, but a calculated move to bring the two branches of the family even closer.
Jingyi gently stroked her belly. A bitter thought brushed her mind—she had assumed her child would carry the Gu name to honor the fallen, but perhaps the family had other plans for who would provide the next heir.
She kept her face a mask of calm, but the sharp eyes of Nanny Qin did not miss the momentary lapse.
“The Young General and the ladies should rest,” Nanny Qin intervened, her voice carrying the weight of decades of authority. “This old servant must attend to the Matriarch. We shall discuss the rest in due time.”