People are nostalgic by nature, but when faced with such abundance, even the most sentimental heart can be overwhelmed.
Upon entering the house, one was greeted by a row of maple trees. Although the fiery blaze of autumn had already passed, their bare branches promised lush greenery come spring, and by next year, the courtyard would surely be a sight to behold.
As they walked through, every corner revealed careful design. The overall layout echoed Xueniang’s Hanyi Courtyard [Hanyi (寒衣) refers to winter garments, and in traditional estates, a “Hanyi Courtyard” was often a women’s courtyard associated with needlework and storage of seasonal clothing], once situated in the East Garden. Yet here, the arrangement felt more thoughtful, practical, and accommodating.
Xueniang’s heart stirred as she looked around.
“Sixth Sister-in-law asked us to prepare everything,” she said with emotion. “I thought we would have to move in the furniture ourselves, but I didn’t expect it to be so complete. All that remains is to bring our luggage.”
Du Jingyi smiled. “If there are old belongings you’re fond of, you may bring them as well. There are two side rooms—both left for you to arrange according to your taste. I have already set up the main chamber and the embroidery loft, but if anything displeases you, just ask Mama Dou to adjust it.”
Her tone carried no force; a living space, after all, should suit one’s own heart.
Xueniang’s joy overflowed. Though her Eldest Sister-in-law had cared for her for over a decade, in her heart she felt closer to her Sixth Sister-in-law, for the former was an elder while the latter was like a true sister. Affectionately, she clasped Du Jingyi’s hand and said with shy gratitude,
“Thank you for taking such trouble for me. I like everything as it is.”
“That’s good,” Du Jingyi replied warmly. “Then let us go see the courtyard where Eldest Sister-in-law and Ping’er will live.”
“Mm.”
The walk from Xueniang’s new courtyard to Eldest Sister-in-law’s was not far—no more than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. Yet the scenery was utterly different.
The first sight was a spacious, well-tended garden. Paths swept neatly across, and new grass seeds had been sown.
“I’ve ordered the seeds covered with grass ash,” Du Jingyi explained. “Next year, it will certainly be a sea of green.”
Just imagining it brought life to the quiet courtyard.
Passing through, they came to a brightly lit study—large enough to fill two rooms and already furnished with all necessities. Unlike in the East Garden, where Shang Zhiping (the young master, Ping’er) had studied in his mother’s quarters, here he finally had a space of his own.
Regardless of whether he would one day distinguish himself as a scholar, who would not be gladdened by such an environment?
Eldest Sister-in-law Liu’s eyes brimmed with tears. Turning to Du Jingyi, she said earnestly,
“Sixth Sister-in-law, you’ve troubled yourself greatly. Ping’er’s study is wonderful—truly wonderful.”
Du Jingyi returned her look with a smile. “As long as you are pleased, I am glad. The General has already arranged to hire a tutor for Ping’er. I thought to prepare the study this way so the teacher may come at ease.”
Eldest Sister-in-law’s heart was wholly tied to her only son, and she wished only to help him in all things. But Shang Zhiping, standing quietly, seemed more uneasy than happy. His young face showed a faint shadow, as though afraid he was unworthy of such a fine study or of the tutor that would come.
Du Jingyi, watching, understood at once.
She knew Ping’er bore a hidden knot in his heart. Years of restraint had left him timid, lacking confidence, always feeling “not good enough.”
She would not force him to grow up overnight. Instead, she stepped closer and spoke gently,
“In a family like ours, it is not necessary to rise to the rank of prime minister or achieve grand fame. It is enough to understand the principles in the books—to know propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame—and to live by them. That alone is a good thing. Do you not agree, Ping’er?”
Her words softened the pressure on him. Though the weight upon his heart was not gone, it eased slightly. Still, he looked nervously at his mother and whispered, stumbling,
“I… I’m only afraid my mother will be disappointed…”
It had taken him long to utter even this, yet the simple confession made Du Jingyi exhale in relief.
“Silly child, what nonsense is that?”
Eldest Sister-in-law Liu sighed, her eyes reddening. She had given her all to her son, and though it warmed her that he cared so much for her feelings, his very dependence showed how much he lacked independence of spirit.
She was about to speak, but Du Jingyi stopped her with a look. Then, facing Ping’er, she continued with steady warmth,
“I may not yet be a mother, but I have been a daughter. Parents often hope their children will succeed, but when all is said and done, what is glory compared to health and happiness? That is what truly matters. Is that not so, Sister-in-law?”
At this, Eldest Sister-in-law Liu paused, then nodded slowly.
“Your Sixth Aunt is right.”
Hearing his mother’s agreement, Shang Zhiping visibly loosened, his earlier stiffness melting away. Du Jingyi and Liu shi exchanged a look of quiet relief.
Seizing the moment, Du Jingyi asked lightly,
“Ping’er, do you have any hobbies outside your books? There are several unused rooms in this courtyard—you may have one fitted according to your own interests.”
The boy’s face turned crimson. He lowered his head and shook it, too shy to answer.
Liu shi’s heart ached at the sight, but Du Jingyi merely waited patiently. After a long silence, Ping’er whispered, barely audible,
“I… I know a little of cuju [an ancient Chinese ball game, ancestor of modern football, played since the Han Dynasty], but… but I’m not very good at it…”
His voice was like a mosquito’s buzz, as if confessing a guilty pleasure.
But Du Jingyi’s face lit up with rare delight. “Sui’an City often holds cuju matches. If Ping’er enjoys it, why not practice more? One day, we can even try on the field.”
“R–really? But… I don’t think I can…”
For the first time, a spark of hope glimmered in Shang Zhiping’s eyes, though it was quickly dimmed by his inferiority. Still, Du Jingyi did not miss it.
“You haven’t even tried yet,” she encouraged. “Why give up so quickly? Cuju is good for your health and teaches teamwork. Winning is not the goal, but if you do win, all the better.”
Her gentle tone slowly loosened the boy’s stiffness.
Liu shi, listening, was struck. For thirteen years she had raised her son, yet she had never even known he liked cuju. A pang of sorrow hit her chest—how little she understood him!
Seeing his mother’s downcast expression, Shang Zhiping thought he had once again disappointed her. In a rush, he stammered,
“Mother… your son was only speaking nonsense. I like reading—yes, I will study hard when I return!”