Madam Du had not anticipated that her youngest daughter would brave the blizzard, and her heart was filled with a mother’s fretful concern. Turning to her Eldset daughter’s mother-in-law, Madam He Lin, she spoke with soft apology.
“I must trouble you to keep watch here for a moment, Sister-in-law. I shall take Tangtang [Du Jingyi’s intimate childhood name] and her husband to the main hall for a proper chat.”
“Go, go! Do not worry yourself,” Madam He assured her, patting her chest with genuine warmth. She was a woman of simple, kind heart; seeing her daughter-in-law’s family so united only brought her joy. “I shall send a maid the very heartbeat Xiangxiang [the elder sister] wakes.”
As Madam Du and Du Jingyi stepped out into the courtyard, they found Shang Ji standing like a solitary pine amidst the swirling white. His dark cloak was dusted thick with snow, and his breath bloomed in the air like pale silk.
“Good heavens, child!” Madam Du waved him forward in haste. “Come quickly to Mingse Courtyard. It would be a tragedy if a hero of the realm froze to death in our garden!”
Shang Ji, whose constitution was forged in the brutal blizzards of the Cezhou frontier, felt the cold as nothing more than a minor nuisance. Yet, seeing the “heartbroken” look in Du Jingyi’s eyes, he softened his stride. She had expected him to wait in the side room, protected from the elements; seeing him stand guard in the open air made her chest tighten with a mixture of love and exasperation.
“This son-in-law greets Mother-in-law,” Shang Ji said, offering a respectful salute despite the ice in his hair.
After he reached out to brush the flakes from Du Jingyi’s shoulder, his hand lingering as if he intended to lift her and carry her the rest of the way. Jingyi, mindful of her mother’s presence and the strictures of filial decorum, gave him a secret, playful wave of dismissal.
“I shall hold Mother’s arm,” she said brightly, slipping her hand through Madam Du’s silk-clad elbow. “It is more stable for me to walk this way.”
Shang Ji retracted his hand, a flicker of disappointment masked by his usual stoic calm. He fell into step behind the three women, his sharp eyes tracking Jingyi’s every footfall on the slippery stones like a predator guarding its most precious treasure.
The transition into the main room of Mingse Courtyard was like stepping into another season. The warmth of the underfloor heating [di-long, a sophisticated system of flues beneath the floor] rushed out to meet them.
Master Du, who had been deep in conversation, stood up in shock. “Why have you come? In such a gale? Are you not afraid that—” He bit back the words “an accident might happen to the baby,” fearing he might invite ill fortune by speaking it aloud.
Du Jingyi suppressed a smile. To her parents, she was still the delicate flower that might wilt at any moment. “Perhaps I simply missed my Father?” she teased.
“Nonsense! You merely wished to see the chubby nephew!” Master Du laughed, the tension leaving his shoulders.
He then turned to the guests standing nearby. “Please forgive the interruption, Brother He. This is my youngest, Jingyi, and her husband—the Young Master of the Shang State Duke’s Mansion, a General personally appointed by the Dragon Throne.”
Du Jingyi offered a sweet greeting to Uncle He, while Shang Ji performed a steady, military-style salute. Uncle He, a tall and slender man with the ethereal air of a Taoist sage, was visibly moved. Coming from the modest city of Pingzhou, meeting a General of Shang Ji’s stature was a rare honor for him.
“I dare not accept such high praise!” Uncle He replied, returning the gesture with a flustered respect. “Your reputation has reached even the distant corners of Pingzhou. I never dreamed I would behold the ‘God of War’ in the flesh today.”
Master Du beamed with pride. “So, Brother He? Is my son-in-law as formidable as the tales suggest?”
Uncle He paused, surveying Shang Ji’s broad shoulders and commanding presence. “He is as if Guan Yu [the legendary God of War] were reincarnated before us.”
A roar of laughter filled the hall. Du Jingyi turned her playful gaze toward the new father, He Shilin. “And what of you, Brother-in-law? You have a son now! Are you beaming from ear to ear, or has the shock yet to wear off?”
He Shilin scratched his head, looking utterly dazed. “I am happy… but I feel as though I am walking through a dream.”
As the men settled into a lively discussion of world affairs and military tactics, Madam Du rose to manage the hospitality. “Since the General and Tangtang have arrived, we must make this a true celebration. I shall go to the kitchen to oversee the banquet; we must have fine wine and hearty dishes today!”
Du Jingyi followed her mother toward the Flower Hall [a secondary dining hall often decorated with seasonal blooms]. Within the privacy of the hall, the masks of formal cheer slipped away. Madam Du took her daughter’s hand, her eyes clouded with heartache.
“Your pregnancy is not yet into its third trimester,” Madam Du whispered, her voice thick with worry. “You could have waited until after the New Year. A day or two makes no difference.”
“A month-old nephew? I could not bear to wait that long, Mother,” Du Jingyi replied, leaning into her mother’s warmth. “Besides, the General is with me. He is my shield; no harm can reach me when he is here.”
“And why is he with you today?” Madam Du asked, suddenly curious. “Should he not be at the barracks, training the Tiger Legion?”
Du Jingyi laughed softly, the sound like silver bells. “Mother, you have been so buried in nursery linens that you have forgotten! Today is the fifth day of the twelfth month—the auspicious day for our move into the General’s Mansion.”
Madam Du gasped, slapping her forehead in realization. In the chaos of one daughter’s labor, she had nearly forgotten the other’s triumph.The warmth of the underfloor heating in the Flower Hall provided a gentle sanctuary as the two women spoke in hushed, intimate tones. Madam Du [Furen] sighed, her fingers fluttering over her silk handkerchief in a gesture of lingering agitation.
“I truly forgot!” she exclaimed softly. “Your sister [Du Jingxiang] was seized by such abdominal pains last night; she struggled for hours before the baby finally arrived. I was so consumed by anxiety that all else fled my mind. By rights, we should have been at the General’s Mansion today to offer our congratulations, yet here you are instead.”
In the Great Xing Dynasty, the Qiao Qian [a housewarming tradition of moving to a higher place] was a sacred social bridge. Relatives were expected to arrive with auspicious gifts and laughter to “warm” the new house. However, the move of Shang Ji [The General] and Du Jingyi was born of fire and discord. With the Duke’s Mansion practically at war with the Sixth Branch, a traditional celebration was impossible. Du Jingyi had accepted the perfunctory gifts sent by Madam Wei that morning with a cold indifference; as she required no false cheer from the Duke’s kin.
“Mother, do not fret,” Du Jingyi said, her voice like a soothing balm. “There will be time enough for celebrations. Cousin Zhao [Xing Zhao] wrote that the elders from Jinling should arrive within ten days. I have discussed it with the General; we shall hold a grand housewarming banquet before the Lunar New Year. We shall formally invite you, Father, and the He family elders then.”
“Then I shall wait for your invitation,” Madam Du replied, her expression turning respectful. She knew that Old Madam Gu [the formidable head of the Gu family and Shang Ji’s maternal grandmother] was among the party. Though she had lived in Jinling for years, she had only heard whispered legends of that lady’s iron grace; to pay her respects was both a duty and an honor for her.
As the servants of the Du household bustled about, their faces alight with the joy of a “complete” family gathering, Du Jingyi leaned closer to her mother. “Mother, have you decided on a name for the child? We cannot simply call him ‘nephew’ forever.”
Madam Du let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. “Do not even ask! It is not a lack of names, but a surfeit! Your Father has three favorites, Uncle He has proposed four, and the parents themselves have a list of their own. We are nursing a collective headache trying to choose from more than ten auspicious titles!”
Du Jingyi chuckled, the sound muffled by the fur of her collar. “That is easily mended. Write them all upon slips of paper and let the baby grasp one. It is his name, after all; let him choose the destiny he likes best.”
“You silly child,” Madam Du teased, reaching out to stroke Jingyi’s hair. “If we had treated you so, you might be called Du Jingxiao [a more boisterous name] today.”
But the laughter faded into a pensive sigh. Madam Du’s eyes grew clouded with a mother’s foresight. “Your sister has a son now; her place in the He family is as solid as a mountain. Seeing how He Shilin and his parents cherish her, I can finally sleep with a light heart regarding her future.”
She paused, her gaze dropping to Du Jingyi’s still-modest swell. “But you… you are in the nest of vipers that is the Duke’s Mansion. There is no elder there to shield you. If the Duke is whispered to by Madam Wei, I fear your path will be strewn with thorns.”
The gossip of the Duke’s narrow escape from assassination and the subsequent fire had reached every corner of Sui’an. While the public saw drama, Madam Du saw danger. She knew the fire was a desperate gambit by her daughter to escape the Duke’s walls.
“The wet nurse and the midwife,” Madam Du said firmly, her voice regaining its matriarchal strength. “They must be found now. Not just anyone, but women from respectable families with clean histories. Let me oversee this for you. We have half a year—time enough to find the most capable guardians for your delivery.”
“With Mother overseeing it, I fear nothing,” Du Jingyi murmured, leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder. For a moment, she was no longer the sharp-witted mistress of the General’s Mansion, but a daughter seeking warmth.
The conversation shifted to the broader family dynamics. “I heard the Third Branch has finally moved out from duke’s mansion?” Du Jingyi asked.
“Yes, to that house in Osmanthus Lane,” Madam Du replied. “Their Third Sister-in-law [wife of Shang Sanlang] attempted to visit your gates recently, but Steward He turned her away. Your General has made it clear: no one is to disturb your recuperation.”
Du Jingyi nodded. She had no desire to acknowledge the greedy collateral branches of the Shang clan. But her mother had more pressing news.
“I must give you a warning. Shang Sanlang [the Third Brother] is desperate for a livelihood, but he has become entangled with your cousin, Du Jingxian, and is being played for a fool.”
Du Jingyi stiffened slightly. “Du Jingxian? What has that man done now?”
“He is taking advantage of the heavy snows,” Madam Du said with a look of pure contempt. “He raised funds by claiming he would transport northern goods to the south to exploit the price surge. But the fool acts too late! Our family’s escort agency has already delivered its cargo to Jinling, yet he is only now raising capital. He will lose every copper.”
“How did a man caught selling counterfeit medicine manage to raise such funds?” Jingyi asked, her brow furrowing.
“He used the youngest son of Minister Jin as a guarantor,” Madam Du explained. “He has collected nearly 100,000 taels from various wealthy young lords—men with more silver than sense. If you wish to help the Third Branch, warn them. If not… let them fall with him.”
100,000 taels. It was enough to ruin a family, or to buy a very expensive lesson in betrayal.