When his father died, it happened to be summer, and the corpse couldn't be preserved for long. The family had a Taoist priest calculate an auspicious date for the burial in Baoding.
Coincidentally, roads in Baoding needed repairs again, and both the Chen and Ji families planned to discuss not only rebuilding the roads but also renovating their ancestral halls.
Chen Yanyun went to the Ji family to discuss the matter with Master Ji.
Master Ji readily agreed and comforted him: "Nine Balance, we practically grew up together—no need to mention our bond. If there's anything the Ji family can assist with regarding your father's funeral arrangements, just say the word."
At that time, Chen Yanyun was merely a Junior Supervisor in the Office of the Directorate of Instruction. Though his career path seemed smooth, he hadn't yet reached a status that would make Master Ji wary. Their conversation remained relaxed and unconstrained.
Chen Yanyun nodded in agreement, and Master Ji invited him to stay for tea: "You seem quite exhausted lately. Perhaps you should take this opportunity to rest for a few years. It's not like your family will go bankrupt in just a few years..."
With his father's passing, Chen Yanyun was expected to observe the mourning period for three years.
Chen Yanyun sipped his tea silently and said, "When my mentor's father passed away, it was during his busiest time. Many at court admonished him for neglecting filial piety, but the Emperor dismissed their criticisms. I've just entered the Office of the Directorate of Instruction and haven't fully grasped everything yet. If I leave now to observe mourning, it might displease my mentor. This matter requires careful consideration."
Master Ji replied, "I hadn't considered Lord Zhang's perspective. You're becoming increasingly cautious."
Chen Yanyun waved his hand with a bitter smile. "That's hardly a compliment. Let's not dwell on it."
Just then, the steward came to speak with Master Ji, who then suggested Chen Yanyun take a stroll in the courtyard. He also invited him to stay for dinner, as it was too late to return to Wanping that evening.
Chen Yanyun didn't decline. The summer night was stifling, and his heart was heavy—some fresh air would do him good. He walked slowly along the path outside the banquet and rest area, passing a grove of wintersweet trees until he reached a lotus pond.
He heard the voices of young girls.
Vibrant and still somewhat childish, they giggled while talking about picking lotus seed pods.
He listened expressionlessly.
Such an innocent age, untouched by life's hardships. He wondered if she would remain so carefree when she grew older.
As he took another step forward, he saw two young girls. The one dressed like a young mistress was slightly older than her maid, around twelve or thirteen, stretching her hand to pluck a slender lotus stem. The gold bracelet on her wrist swayed precariously—her wrist was so thin it seemed the bracelet might slip off and fall into the water at any moment.
It made one's heart clench.
The little maid looked terrified, on the verge of tears, but the young girl showed no fear and even threatened to sell her off to some remote mountain village.
Then, losing her footing, she tumbled into the water with a dumbfounded expression. The maid hurried to pull her out while she scrambled to stand, scolding the maid all the while—a chaotic scene. A faint smile touched his lips. This girl was lively, and that wasn't a bad thing.
Just as he was about to leave, he heard cries for help.
Chen Yanyun paused.
His true nature was quite indifferent, and he preferred not to meddle in others' affairs.
Yet, for some reason, he turned back. Perhaps it reminded him of his younger brother, who had also drowned at a young age.He was in that puddle. The water was deep, and he saw a pale little face submerged beneath the surface, slowly sinking. Just moments ago, she had been so full of life, but in an instant, she might be gone.
A mere pinch could snuff her out, like a flower. It wouldn’t even take much effort.
When the girl was half-conscious, she had clutched his sleeve and murmured for him not to leave—pitiable, almost laughable. If he didn’t leave, she would probably regret it for the rest of her life once she woke. He was a married man; taking responsibility for her would only mean taking advantage of her innocence.
To avoid tarnishing the girl’s reputation, he left Daxing overnight.
A few days later, Master Ji even sent a letter asking why he had left without saying goodbye that night.
After reading the letter, Chen Yanyun had his page bring over a candle to burn it. He asked indifferently, "Did Madam say what it was about?"
"Madam didn’t specify, but it seems to be something related to the Jiang family," the page whispered. "You know, her brother has gotten into trouble..."
Without even lifting his eyes, Chen Yanyun continued writing and said, "Tell Madam to come see me."
Jiang Shi was actually a little embarrassed.
Chen Yanyun had always treated her with respect. Whenever she needed him, she could simply send a maid with a message, and he would come to her. But this time was different—he had summoned her to his study. She stood outside his door with her maids for a long time before he finally allowed her to enter.
But what could she do? He was her own brother—how could she not try to save him? Jiang Shi had never been the type to act purely on emotion; she understood the situation clearly. Not only did her family rely on her, but she also relied on them. Though this matter might be troublesome for Chen Yanyun, surely it wouldn’t be too difficult.
With a smile, Jiang Shi served Chen Yanyun his meal and explained the situation along the way.
But Chen Yanyun remained impassive. He was simply tired. "I warned your brother long ago about lending money with usury. I never expected he’d dare to provoke even the Eastern Depot. Who do you expect me to ask to vouch for him?"
Jiang Shi softened her voice. "There... must be a way." She sat down beside him and sighed. "If there really is no way, then... forget it. I can’t let my brother drag you down. I’ll explain it to Mother—she’ll understand."
Chen Yanyun still watched her. "Is that truly what you think?"
Jiang Shi didn’t know how to answer. It felt like she had walked into a trap of her own making.
She twisted her handkerchief tightly, biting her lip in silence. Truthfully, she wasn’t having it easy either—Third Master Chen ought to understand her position!
Her parents were counting on her to save her brother. If she couldn’t, who else could they turn to? He was, after all, her own flesh and blood. Her eyes reddened slightly as she straightened her posture and said, "In all these years since I married into this family, I’ve never asked you for anything. As for my true feelings—Third Master knows them well."
Chen Yanyun sighed and waved his hand, dismissing her.
A few days later, after Chen Yanyun intervened, Jiang Shi’s brother was released from the Eastern Depot. Her brother arrived at the Chen residence with two baskets of large crabs to express his gratitude but didn’t even get to see Third Master Chen. He left in a huff with his crabs, and afterward, the Jiang family grew somewhat distant from the Chens.
Jiang Shi was deeply pained by this. Her brother was indeed useless, but Third Master Chen never said a word about it.
In truth, he must have known exactly what kind of man her brother was.Jiang Shi knew that Third Master Chen had paid a considerable price for helping her this time. Watching him busy himself, her mind would sometimes wander into wild speculations. The weight on her heart grew heavier, and gradually, her health deteriorated further. When Third Master Chen couldn’t visit her in the evenings—either staying in his study or resting at Concubine Xue’s place—she felt increasingly lonely. Fortunately, her daughter kept her company, or else the days would have been even harder to bear.
In the end, Jiang Shi realized she was dying.
That day, she could barely speak. Her five-year-old daughter knelt by her bed, crying incessantly.
With great effort, Jiang Shi lifted her head and saw the room filled with people. Why were there so many? She didn’t want to see them—they all felt like strangers.
Closing her eyes, tears streamed down her face. She felt her daughter’s small, delicate hand clutching hers—so fragile. Who would protect and care for the child after she was gone?
Finally, she heard someone announce, “Third Master is here!”
The crowd parted, and someone sat beside the bed, gripping her hand tightly.
He must be suffering too.
Her thoughts were muddled, but she knew Third Master Chen was a man of deep sentiment. Though he held no excess love for her, after more than a decade as husband and wife, she had stood by him all these years. Surely, he felt something for her.
She thought she heard him whisper an apology. She wanted to laugh—why should he be the one to apologize?
She might have said many things, but in the throes of death, she no longer knew what she was saying—perhaps just the words she had longed to speak.
Reluctantly, she turned her gaze to her daughter, who, too young to understand, cried helplessly, frightened by the commotion.
Her consciousness blurred. Her eyes widened slightly, yet she seemed to see nothing at all.
Chen Yanyun gradually felt the frail hand in his grow colder. He gently closed Jiang Shi’s eyes.
Releasing her hand, he asked quietly, “Where is the Seventh Young Master? Still on his way?”
“He’ll be back soon. We didn’t expect Madam to go so quickly…” someone murmured in reply.
The room fell silent, save for the muffled sobs of maids and servants outside. Chen Yanyun said, “When he returns, have him come to me.”
He retreated to his study in the front courtyard and remained alone for a long time.
In truth, Jiang Shi’s death brought him not just grief, but reflection. She had been a year younger than him—still so young.
He requested a two-year mourning period for Jiang Shi from Madam Chen, who sighed, assuming his reluctance to let go, and agreed. By then, Chen Yanyun’s thoughts on love had grown even colder. Over the years, his actions had become increasingly ruthless. He had heard the whispers behind his back—some scathing, some cruel. Once, a clerk had muttered to a colleague, “It’s retribution. How many unscrupulous deeds has he committed…”
Though indifferent to such words, Chen Yanyun couldn’t ignore the risk they posed. Gradually, he found solace in Buddhism—cultivating his mind and tempering his spirit. If there truly were sins to atone for, perhaps the Buddha, seeing his devotion, might grant him leniency. He became a devout follower, abstaining from meat and even distancing himself from his three concubines. Outwardly, his demeanor grew ever more serene.
With no further reservations, he became a sharp blade in Zhang Ju Lian’s hands.Two years later, he would ascend to the position of Grand Secretary of the Dongge Hall, becoming the youngest member of the Grand Secretariat. Only the final step of the arrangement remained. That day, Zhang Ju Lian shared a sedan chair with him as they passed by Jiuchunfang, gazing at the waters of the moat.
"Nine Balance, do you remember what I told you when you first entered the Office of the Directorate of Instruction?" Zhang Ju Lian asked him.
Chen Yanyun smiled faintly. "Feel free to remind me."
"What you hold in your hand is the best," Zhang Ju Lian said.
Chen Yanyun watched the surging river flow eastward, thinking that it was indeed true. Only what was firmly in his grasp was truly good.
What did anything else matter?
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