Gradually, the first light of dawn appeared, casting a faint glow on the Korean paper covering the window, filling the room with a soft, hazy radiance.
The distant sound of cymbals could faintly be heard, growing clearer and closer until it seemed right beside her ears. For a moment, she couldn’t tell where she was. Opening her eyes, she saw familiar furnishings and layout—she hadn’t gone far; she was still in Wine and Vinegar Bureau Alley.
What had to be faced still loomed ahead. Earlier, she had been dazed, allowing herself a brief respite, but now that she was awake, her heart clenched tight again.
She took a deep breath and struggled to sit up. A maid happened to enter with tea and, upon seeing her, quickly called out to someone outside before stepping forward to help her up. Sha Tong entered with his hands hanging respectfully at his sides, bowing slightly as he glanced up. "Princess Consort... has the young mistress awoken? How are you feeling now?"
She touched her feverish forehead and shook her head, indicating she was fine.
Seeing her attempt to rise from the kang, Sha Tong knelt by the footstool to help her into her shoes. As he lifted the heels, he said, "You’re exhausted and weak. The imperial physician said you must rest more. Leave the outside matters to us servants. Stay in bed a while longer. If there’s anything we can’t decide, we’ll come to you for instructions."
She sighed. "With so much to handle, I can’t just let go. Have someone prepare a bowl of ginseng soup for me—I need it to refresh myself."
Sha Tong hesitated, standing before her and stammering slightly. "Ginseng is too heating—you shouldn’t take it for now. I’ve prepared wolfberry and white fungus soup for you instead. It’ll nourish your lungs and ease the dryness... And, well, you must rest more and avoid exertion. Otherwise, it won’t be good for the little one."
Her mind buzzed. "What?"
Sha Tong gave a dry chuckle. "You’re not alone now. Even if you don’t think of yourself, you must think of the child. When the Twelfth Master heard the diagnosis earlier, he was overjoyed. He’s gone to the Ministry of Justice now but said he’d stop by to fetch Master Wu on the way, knowing you’d be worried about your master. If you have any concerns, you can seek his advice."
Dingyi fell back onto the bedding. At a time like this—how could she be with child? She turned onto her side, her heart adrift. Though there was some joy, the thought of Rujian lying lifeless on the wooden plank made her chest freeze over. She said, "Tongzi, I can’t keep this child. There’s a chasm in my heart—too deep to cross."
Sha Tong’s brows drooped. "You’re suffering, I know. But you mustn’t think of harming the little one. This is yours and the Twelfth Master’s child, born of your mutual affection. It has nothing to do with anyone else. Let the outside world be chaotic—you must keep a Buddha enshrined in the center of your heart. You’re kind-hearted. Set your own position straight. The Twelfth Master and the little one—neither has wronged you. No matter how bitter or painful the matters of your maiden family are, don’t bring them into your own home. Though you and the Twelfth Master haven’t had a grand wedding, you’re already more than husband and wife. Think about it—if not for you, would the Twelfth Master have suffered such grievances outside?" Sha Tong shook his head. "You don’t know—after Prince Zhuang was placed under house arrest, the Imperial Clan has been harshly critical of the Twelfth Master. If even you turn against him, he’ll be utterly wronged. Just yesterday, someone sent a spirit tablet to Prince Chun’s residence with the Twelfth Master’s name written on it. Those wicked souls—because the Twelfth Master cut off their ill-gotten gains, they’d sooner see him dead. He’s struggling at court—doesn’t your heart ache for him?"Dingyi couldn't stand his incessant chatter and thought to herself that since Rujian hadn't been sent off yet, she needed to preserve her strength for the tasks ahead. Perhaps she should wait—it wouldn't be too late to deal with things after getting through this difficult period.
She reached out to take the mourning cap and put it on, then lifted the curtain to look outside. The eastern sky was piled with red clouds. Turning around, she instructed the eunuchs below, "Clear some space by the mourning shed and move all the paper carriages and horses inside in case the weather changes later." Entering the mourning hall, she saw the offerings on the altar were still the same as yesterday's and frowned, ordering them to be removed and replaced with fresh ones.
Sha Tong stood nearby with a worried expression. This lady was stubborn, refusing advice and making endless demands—he feared she might harm her health. Just as he was fretting, someone entered through the gate. Upon closer look, it was Wu Changgeng. He hurried forward and cupped his hands in greeting. "Master Wu, you've finally come—"
He was about to say more but swallowed his words under Dingyi's sharp glare. When she saw her master, tears began to fall before she could even speak.
"Enough, don't cry. I received the news yesterday, but you're now a married woman, and without summons, I couldn't visit you rashly." Wu Changgeng patted her shoulder. "Good child, you've suffered. There's much injustice in this world—try to take it lightly. Seeing you so haggard after just a few days pains my heart. Now that I'm here, I'll share some of your burdens so you don't have to shoulder everything alone. Your senior brother has gone to Shuntian Prefecture to request leave—he'll return soon to help with arrangements. You should rest when you can."
Her jaw trembled, and she was so overcome with grief that her legs could barely support her, requiring two maids to hold her up. Gesturing toward the side room, she said, "There's not much to do in the morning. Master, please rest inside for a while. With so few relatives and friends, there's no need for formalities. Once the grand encoffining is done this evening, my heart will settle."
Wu Changgeng turned to look around. "We should still prepare the funeral registry. Set up a table by the gate—though you lack relatives, many court officials will come out of respect for the Twelfth Master. If we don't prepare early, we'll be scrambling later." As he spoke, he stepped forward to light incense and paid solemn respects.
Her master was not one to sit idle—once here, he wouldn't rest comfortably. Pained for his disciple, he wanted to ease her burden however he could. The horn players, always quick to judge their employers, had been idling without instructions. Wu Changgeng approached them and cupped his hands. "Gentlemen, no need to wait any longer. The young mistress in charge has much on her mind—please be understanding. It's almost Chenshi (7-9 AM)—let's begin the performance and get things moving."
Standing under the eaves, Dingyi listened as a suona pierced the air with its sharp, trembling notes, soon joined by others, forming a heart-wrenching lament that shook heaven and earth. After a moment of stillness, she turned and went inside. Rujian lay there, looking no different from when he was alive, save for his pallor.
She knelt on the rush cushion. Folklore held that the body should lie in state for three days after the initial encoffining, in case the deceased revived. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that Rujian wasn't dead—just exhausted, having overslept, and might wake at any moment. Staring blankly at him, she whispered, "Third Brother, I'm with child. My heart is in turmoil—this child's timing couldn't be worse. With you gone, how can I go on with him? Wake up, please. If you wake, everything will be whole again. If you're truly dead... I'll never recover."Not receiving his reply, she often reached out to touch his hand, hoping to feel some warmth, but each time was met with disappointment. It wasn’t like the staged illusions on a theater stage—how could there be so many miraculous resurrections? She knelt there despondently, her tears already dried up, her heart torn with grief, yet unable to cry.
The curtain swayed as someone lifted it and entered. She looked up—it was Hailan. Anxiety surged within her, fearing a repeat of yesterday, so she quickly stood and pulled Hailan into the back chamber. Settling her down, she studied her carefully. Hailan wasn’t crying this time, but her complexion was poor. Sitting close, Dingyi whispered, “Sister-in-law, did the family let you come again?”
Hailan lowered her eyes. “They only allowed it after I promised not to break down. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Yesterday was chaotic—I was too caught up in crying to talk. Let’s speak now.”
Dingyi looked at her, her expression heartbreaking. The two sat facing each other, many words unspoken, unsure how to begin. After a moment’s hesitation, Dingyi said, “Our siblings have wronged you too much. I never imagined things would turn out this way. These past days, I keep thinking—if only I hadn’t been so presumptuous to seek you out, you wouldn’t have had to relive the pain. I hoped you and my third brother could reunite, but…”
Hailan shook her head. “Don’t say that. No matter what, I’m grateful to you. At least after waiting over a decade, I had the chance to see him again. Otherwise, I might’ve forgotten his face entirely.” She spoke slowly, a faint smile touching her lips. “When I waited at the inn, I was terrified—afraid I’d see a rough, burly man, afraid he wouldn’t be the same as before. But heaven took pity. The moment he walked in, it all came back—how he used to blush, just like when he was fifteen. You don’t know how happy I was then. He was shy, so I hugged him first. He hesitated, so I kissed him first. Thinking back now, I was shameless, but I truly loved him—from the day he came to propose, I loved him for thirteen years. Sometimes I wondered—how could I pine for someone I’d only met a few times, and from so far away? Later, I realized—though fate was fleeting, it was my destiny. I was meant to wait for him my whole life. Now… I don’t believe he’s dead. He’s just left again, gone somewhere far, without me. So I’ll keep waiting. Maybe in another ten or twenty years, we’ll meet again.”
Dingyi wept uncontrollably at her words. “You can’t keep waiting like this. When will it end? How many decades does a woman have to waste? You can’t spend them all on him. While you’re still young, find a good man, have children, forget him! What’s owed from the past must wait for the next life—you can’t let him spend lifetimes repaying you.”
Hailan’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I want him to never repay it—so he’ll spend twice the time by my side. I can’t marry another. If I did, I’d be buried with someone else, and he’d let go. I must wait for him pure. When he comes, he’ll be too ashamed to leave and stay.”
Dingyi gripped her hand tightly, hesitating before asking, “Then… you and he… did you ever…?”"No," she replied without any sign of embarrassment, only infinite regret. "Had I known it would come to this, I shouldn't have let myself live with regrets. Looking back now, perhaps he was never confident, maybe always prepared to sacrifice himself, which is why he never intended to cross that line. Men and women are different—women can settle for second best, but men are too stubborn, terrifyingly so, caring neither for life nor for those who love them."
Dingyi lowered her head and said, "It's still my fault. I lured him back to the capital because I wanted to be with the Twelfth Master. Rujian only wanted to fulfill my wish and clear my name."
Hailan, in turn, comforted her gently, "Don't blame yourself. He once told me his resolve for revenge never wavered. He was also waiting for an opportunity, to use the Twelfth Master's influence to overturn the Wen family's case. Otherwise, without any connections, which Prince would care about a case from over a decade ago?" She sighed deeply after speaking. "It's fate, destined to be a calamity. I just feel he suffered too much, never enjoying a single good day in his life."
Some people live carefree and innocent lives, while others might spend their entire lives steeped in brine. Those who have never been tempered by suffering see the world as a bed of roses. Yet comfort can remain unchanging, while suffering can take on countless flavors. There is no such thing as fairness in this world. The hope that bitterness will eventually give way to sweetness is just that—a hope, not a certainty.
Dingyi stopped crying and asked eagerly, "Sister-in-law, what are your plans for the future?"
Hailan calmly smoothed the folds of her skirt and said softly, "I want to go to Huairou. There's a Red Snail Temple there where the women of our family used to make vows in the past. I don’t know any distant places, so I’ll go there—to become a nun, to devote myself to spiritual practice, to perform rituals for his salvation for the rest of my life."
Dingyi protested, "That won’t do. Do you want my third brother to be restless in the afterlife? You must live well, so he won’t worry about you."
"If he truly cared about me, he should have come back," Hailan said, holding back tears for a long moment before finally breaking down. "If he cared, why hasn’t he appeared in my dreams? He left so abruptly—how could he have been fair to me?"
She loved him deeply, resented him deeply, yet still couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Dingyi could only console her, "He was murdered—he didn’t want this himself. Maybe he wanted to appear in your dreams but simply didn’t have the power to."
It was all the usual talk of new ghosts and old ghosts—what else could they say to comfort themselves? The two women faced each other with tearful eyes, crying for a while before finally calming down. Dingyi asked, "Sister-in-law, are you truly never going to remarry?"
Hailan nodded. "A lifetime is only a few decades. Where else could I meet someone like him? I won’t remarry. It’s shameful to say, but what am I? I never even crossed his threshold, yet here I am thinking of widowhood for his sake."
"Don’t say that," Dingyi said, taking her hand. "Your sincerity doesn’t require you to become a nun. After my third brother’s affairs are settled, I’ll arrange for a new residence outside the city where you can relax."
Hailan looked surprised. "Why a new residence? What about you and Prince Chun…"
"Don’t mention him," Dingyi said bitterly. "I resent him. He promised to protect my third brother, yet in the end, my brother died horribly in prison. No matter how forgiving I am, I can’t be with him anymore. Every time I see him, I think of my third brother, and it feels like a knife twisting in my heart."Hailan gazed at her wistfully, "Don't waste your own blessings. This matter has nothing to do with him. You can't vent your frustrations on him. My Rujian is gone, but you should cherish the one before you. After all, we don't live for others, but for ourselves." She stood up and glanced outside, "I won't leave these next few days. I'll stay here until he's laid to rest. I've already thought about the path ahead, so there's no need to persuade me."
She forced a faint smile, which only made Dingyi feel worse. When Dingyi tried to console her further, Hailan raised her hand to signal her to stop.
She asked the servants for mourning garments and dressed as the bereaved widow. The Manchu ladies were strong-willed, and though the Suo family members shook their heads disapprovingly, there was nothing they could do.
Dingyi accompanied her to the front courtyard. Passing through the moon gate, she saw Hongce standing on the veranda, torn between approaching and staying away, looking at her with evident distress. Her gaze didn't linger on him for even a moment before she turned and entered the mourning hall.
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