The next day when paying respects, Changfeng and Molan indeed "recovered from their illness." Madam Wang pulled the siblings aside, inquiring with great concern—first asking what illness they had, then how their recovery was progressing. Changfeng handled it well enough, but Molan blushed crimson with embarrassment. After everyone had paid their respects to Old Madam in order, Changfeng and his sister both knelt to apologize to the old lady.
"We've caused you worry, Grandmother. It was nothing serious—we just caught a chill from sleeping late two nights ago and felt dizzy yesterday morning. It wouldn't have mattered normally, but I thought since you've just recovered, what if we passed the illness to you? And since Third Young Master lives nearby, Concubine Lin worried the sickness might spread to him too, so we kept him confined as well."
Molan spoke in a delicate voice, her face pale and posture frail, truly appearing as if she had been ill. Changfeng's fair face showed some embarrassment as he added, "I don't know what happened—my sister fell ill yesterday morning, and I wasn't allowed to go out either. We've troubled you, Grandmother. Please don't blame us."
He repeatedly bowed with folded hands. Watching from the side, Minglan thought their act seemed genuine. Old Mrs. Sheng observed Changfeng's anxious expression and her expression softened. She said gently, "Feng Ge'er, you're almost ten—it's time you had your own quarters and servants, both for convenience and studies. Spending all day with women and children will only hinder your progress. Your elder brother Changbai plans to take the imperial examinations next year and is studying hard, rarely even seeing his mother and sisters. Although our family could purchase an official title, it's still better to earn it through examination. You must work hard—whether to bring honor to our ancestors or establish yourself independently, it all depends on your own efforts."
These words were meant not only for Changfeng but also for Concubine Lin, spoken from the heart. Changfeng immediately straightened up solemnly and bowed respectfully to the old lady. Meanwhile, Madam Wang beamed with irrepressible pride upon hearing Old Madam mention Changbai, though Changbai himself remained as taciturn as ever, not even lifting an eyebrow.
After speaking with Changfeng a while longer without acknowledging Molan, the old lady finally glanced at the girl, whose face had gradually turned red with embarrassment until she seemed at a loss. Old Mrs. Sheng said slowly, "Mo girl, your chill likely started when you were attending me a few days ago. The weather's bitterly cold, and with your delicate constitution, naturally you couldn't withstand it."
Tears welling in her eyes, Molan looked up at the old lady with a pitiful, wronged expression. "Not being able to serve you personally shows my lack of fortune. These past few days I've been so distressed that I caught this chill. It's all my fault—I was overthinking. Please punish me, Grandmother." She knelt before the heated kang, her small body trembling. Even the maids and older servants found it difficult to watch.
After observing her for a moment, Old Mrs. Sheng instructed Cuiping to help her up and draw her close. Speaking gently, she said, "Mo girl, don't take it to heart that I didn't choose you. It's simply that Madam has many responsibilities and children, so I'm helping by watching over one to lighten her load. A young girl like you shouldn't burden herself with heavy thoughts—it'll harm your health. Focus on recuperating. There will be plenty of hardships ahead learning embroidery, needlework, and etiquette. I've said the same to your sixth sister."Molan's tears welled up in her eyes but didn't fall as she nodded and nestled closer to Old Madam. Seeing this, Hualan went over to gently comfort her. Madam Wang turned to look at Rulan and couldn't help sighing - Rulan was impatiently tapping her shoes, her eyes eagerly fixed outside. When she turned to look at Minglan, she found the girl simply staring blankly at her own feet, and felt somewhat relieved that her own daughter wasn't so bad.
After everyone left, the grandmother and granddaughter had breakfast as usual. Today's breakfast featured fresh roe deer meat and minced meat congee made with glutinous rice. Minglan had never tasted this kind of meat before and found it particularly delicious, so she unconsciously had an extra bowl. Seeing the little girl eating so heartily with her cheeks puffed out, Old Madam also ended up eating more, which pleased Mama Fang who stood nearby. Minglan thought to herself that eating required the right atmosphere - even Zhu Bajie would lose his appetite facing a sickly Lin Daiyu picking at her rice grains.
After the meal, Old Madam had Minglan take off her shoes and climb onto the heated kang. This time she gave Minglan a tracing copybook and had her lean over the kang table to practice tracing characters - writing one character while learning to recognize it. As Minglan wrote, Old Madam softly guided her. Before long, Old Mrs. Sheng discovered that Minglan had an excellent memory, able to remember over a dozen characters in just one morning. Though her small hands lacked strength and most characters came out crooked, her brushstrokes showed proper technique - when starting a horizontal stroke, she naturally tilted left first before steadily drawing rightward.
This discovery made Old Mrs. Sheng develop a real interest in teaching. Worried that making Minglan practice characters all day might bore the child, she brought out a poetry collection and selected several catchy short poems to recite to Minglan line by line. The first poem was the famous "Geese," with Old Madam explaining the meaning of each character as she read. Minglan felt somewhat embarrassed but still pretended to follow along earnestly. After two repetitions, she could "recite" it from memory. Old Mrs. Sheng grew even fonder of her, hugging the little girl and kissing her. In her youth, Old Madam had been quite accomplished in literature, which was why she had previously shown some favor to Consort Lin. With her hair tousled from the hug and blushing from the praise, Minglan thought to herself - while Luo Binwang could compose poems at seven, wasn't it normal for her to recite one at six?
"Ming'er, do you understand the meaning of this poem?" Old Mrs. Sheng's wrinkles seemed to smooth out with her smile.
"Now that Grandmother has explained the characters, your granddaughter understands... Once there were three geese, they curved their necks and sang toward the sky, white feathers floating on green water, red feet paddling clear streams," Minglan answered clearly.
"Do you like this poem?" Old Madam asked, beaming.
"I like it. This poem has both colors and sounds - even someone who's never seen geese can almost picture those three big white geese," Minglan explained, trying to use childlike language.
Pointing at Minglan, Old Mrs. Sheng laughed: "Well said, well said! Three geese... indeed, those three silly geese!"
After two days together, Old Mrs. Sheng found this little granddaughter who still stumbled over her words to be quite delightful. She wasn't as eloquent as Hualan nor as perceptive as Molan, appearing rather simple-minded, yet possessing an indescribable charm. Her childish remarks sounded correct at first hearing and were delivered with serious expression, yet always carried something that made people want to burst out laughing.After a morning of both mental and physical exertion, Old Mrs. Sheng had a hearty appetite at noon. Seizing the joyful mood, she ate an extra bowl of rice. To show her new superior her sincere willingness to gain more weight, Minglan also struggled to finish a full bowl of rice. The glistening, braised venison in rock sugar sauce, which looked particularly appealing, was surprisingly polished off by the grandmother and granddaughter working together. Mama Fang watched in astonishment and secretly instructed Cuiping to prepare double portions of Shenqu tea brewed with dried tangerine peel and pickled sour plums to aid digestion.
After lunch, the grandmother and granddaughter sat resting in a pair of spacious black sandalwood armchairs carved with longevity motifs near the window, intending to let their food settle before taking their afternoon nap. Winter was nearing its end, with ice melting and snow thawing. The midday sun was warm and cozy, and Minglan, basking in its glow, curled up like a fluffy little kitten on the brocade-cushioned chair. Having eaten her fill at noon, the child’s rosy, tender face was utterly endearing. As Old Mrs. Sheng watched her little granddaughter’s eyes gradually drooping shut, she suddenly asked, "...Minglan, do you think your fourth sister is really sick?"
The question carried a subtle undertone.
Minglan, who had been drowsy, made an effort to widen her eyes upon hearing this. Her expression was somewhat bewildered, and her words came out jumbled: "I... I don’t know. I originally thought Fourth Sister was embarrassed and angry, so she pretended to be sick and refused to come—she always pretends to be sick whenever Father comes to check Fifth Sister’s studies. But when I saw Fourth Sister this morning, I felt she was genuinely ill."
Hearing this candid response, Old Mrs. Sheng smiled faintly. Meeting those bright, wide eyes, she gently smoothed the stray hairs on Minglan’s head and patted her round little bun. "If your fourth sister is truly pretending," she asked, "should we punish her?"
Leaning against her grandmother’s warm palm, Minglan shook her head. She stretched out her jade-like little hands to clutch Old Mrs. Sheng’s sleeve and said softly, "Even if Fourth Sister isn’t physically ill, her heart must be aching from not being able to come to you. There must be something wrong with her, so it doesn’t count as pretending. When Eldest Sister used to force me to kick shuttlecocks every day, I was the one who truly pretended to be sick."
Minglan actually felt quite sympathetic toward Molan. She guessed that when Consort Lin was favored in the past, she often threw tantrums like this. So when Molan was rejected, Consort Lin immediately reflexively showed disrespect to Old Mrs. Sheng. Unfortunately, this time she had run into a brick wall.
It was important to understand that ever since Sheng Hong was promoted and transferred to Dengzhou, he had resolved to reform the family’s conduct. He did favor Consort Lin and her children and was willing to elevate them, but he valued his family’s reputation and social status even more. The moment Old Mrs. Sheng rejected Molan, Consort Lin immediately had her two children pretend to be sick and skip paying their respects. This was a blatant affront to Old Mrs. Sheng and a clear message to the entire Sheng household that Consort Lin had a strong backbone.
Old Mrs. Sheng’s swift counterattack was meant to force Sheng Hong to choose between his affection for Consort Lin and the family’s dignity. With filial piety as the paramount virtue, Sheng Hong unhesitatingly chose the latter. It was like buying stocks—you can’t just look at the company’s performance; you must also consider the broader national situation. In the Sheng household’s current circumstances, Sheng Hong was willing to protect Consort Lin, but she had to strictly adhere to the boundaries of a concubine.
Old Mrs. Sheng was slightly surprised that her little granddaughter understood the situation so clearly. She asked gently again, "Then, Minglan, where do you think your fourth sister went wrong?"Minglan shook her little head and spoke with practiced solemnity: "Who gets to come to Old Madam's side should be a matter of our filial devotion and Old Madam's own preference. Fourth Sister shouldn't pretend to be ill and trouble you just because things didn't go her way."
Old Madam smiled with satisfaction, drawing Minglan onto her lap and stroking the child's cheek. "My dear sixth child, you speak wisely. Remember, learning to read and do needlework here with your old grandmother are secondary matters. What's most important is learning reason and understanding how things work. In this world, we all face things that go our way and things that don't. What's meant to be yours will be yours, what isn't shouldn't be forced. Cherish your blessings and follow fate's course—never employ unscrupulous means to achieve your ends..."
Noticing her little granddaughter's slightly dazed expression, Old Madam realized she'd been too profound and stopped herself. She summoned Cui Mama to carry Minglan to the pear-wood cabinet bed for her nap.
In truth, Minglan understood everything perfectly. Old Mrs. Sheng had rather wretched luck—when she raised Consort Lin, she'd hoped to cultivate an ethereal Lin Daiyu, but instead produced a formidable version of You Erjie: cunning, combative, and capable of turning the Sheng household upside down. All this stemmed from a single character: greed. Now she was raising a concubine-born daughter. If being close to Old Madam made the girl arrogant or filled her with improper aspirations, it would actually harm her. Hence Old Madam's preventive measures.
Lying on the warm heated kang, Minglan sighed softly. Old Mrs. Sheng needn't worry—from the day she accepted this identity, Minglan had been contemplating her future. Clearly this was a perfectly ordinary ancient world: rigid social hierarchies, well-defined feudal rules, not a trace of fantastical elements in this societal environment. She couldn't run away to become a female knight-errant, couldn't whimsically start a business, and dared not imagine seeking her fortune in the imperial palace. The only thing she could do was manage her own life well.
Human happiness comes through comparison. If everyone around you is worse off, even eating chaff and vegetables can feel quite pleasant. The suffering of concubine-born daughters stems from watching their legitimate sisters—raised together—often enjoy better lives. Seeing sisters born of the same father but surpassing you in every way inevitably breeds discontent.
But what if she didn't compare herself to legitimate daughters? Minglan imagined being born into a farming family that struggled to put food on the table, or worse, into a servant household where she'd have no control over her fate. Compared to those scenarios, her current situation was much better—at least she was well-fed and clothed, with modest means. Her father wasn't some scoundrel like Jia She who married off daughters recklessly, and the family was reasonably prosperous.
For a girl like her in ancient times, life's trajectory was already written: grow up according to a concubine-born daughter's standing, marry a suitably-matched husband, bear children, grow old. Aside from the inability to divorce and the likelihood of accepting several "younger sisters" to share her husband, it wasn't vastly different from modern life. Sometimes Minglan would think rather unambitionally: This isn't so bad.
If life turned difficult and heaven insisted on giving her a miserable existence—hmph!—she'd offer nothing but her life or her head. If truly cornered, she wouldn't hold back. If she suffered, those who wronged her would suffer too. When the time came, white blades would enter and red blades exit—at worst, it would be mutual destruction. Who's afraid of whom? She'd already died once, buried in a mudslide!At this thought, Minglan's mind cleared, and she stretched her little belly before falling into a deep sleep.
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