Upon Gu Tingyu's death, Madam Shao collapsed both physically and mentally. All the accumulated exhaustion and grief erupted at once, leaving her critically ill and bedridden. Meanwhile, Grand Old Madam claimed to be "overwhelmed with sorrow" and could only moan feebly in bed.
Minglan recognized the precarious situation. After careful consideration, she resolved not to take charge of Gu Tingyu's funeral arrangements. Not only was she unfamiliar with the Gu family's customs, but in these circumstances, whatever she did would invite criticism. Yet as the newly appointed Marquess' wife, it was difficult to refuse outright. After much deliberation, she solemnly approached the First Wife of Gu Tingxuan for assistance.
"It's not that I'm shirking responsibility," Minglan said frankly, laying all her cards on the table, "but at my age, I've never handled such important matters. Eldest Brother's funeral is crucial—if any mistakes occur, who knows what people might say. Among everyone in this household, you're the only one I trust completely. If you won't help me, I don't know who else to turn to."
The First Wife of Gu Tingxuan, being naturally meddlesome and fond of taking charge, was further swayed by Minglan's sincerity and reliance on her. Feeling pleased, she immediately agreed and went to discuss it with her husband.
"You agreed to such a major affair?" Gu Tingbing was due to depart for the northwest in a couple of days, and Gu Tingxuan had been busy making arrangements everywhere. Returning home to this news, he grew anxious and chided his wife, "We should stay out of the eldest branch's affairs! Why invite trouble? Better avoid extra complications."
"What do you know!" His wife rolled her eyes at him and leaned in to explain, "I've thought this through. Though it's troublesome, there are benefits. First, our sister-in-law genuinely faces difficulties—if the funeral is too grand, Second Brother Tingye might disapprove; if too modest, gossip will spread. By taking this burden off her hands, she'll remember our kindness. Second..."
She handed her husband a cup of warm tea and lowered her voice, "Given our household's situation, establishing a separate residence is inevitable. When that happens, we'll have to rely on ourselves. But all these years, Father has assigned every significant matter to Second Brother. We lack connections, influence, and sufficient funds. Handling this funeral allows us to build relationships with useful people."
Gu Tingxuan remained unconvinced, shaking his head. "We already know all our relatives and friends. What's the point?"
"You fool!" His wife tapped his forehead firmly. "Those who come to pay respects now, out of regard for Second Brother Tingye, are completely different! Most hold real power. When they see our sister-in-law entrusting such an important event to us, won't they view us differently?"
Though naturally timid, Gu Tingxuan thought of their growing children—some needing marriage arrangements, others pursuing education, and eventually requiring official positions. They couldn't always depend on Gu Tingye. With a sigh, he finally nodded in agreement.
To demonstrate sincerity, Minglan personally visited Madam Shao the next day to request the Marquis household token and vault key. After much persuasion, she explained her predicament and the necessity of seeking external help. To her surprise, Madam Shao breathed weakly, "...Everything is with Mother..."
Why hadn't she said so earlier! Minglan immediately rushed to Grand Old Madam's quarters.The Grand Old Madam lay weakly in bed taking medicine, a pale yellow silk-embroidered cotton cloth wrapped around her forehead. After Minglan finished her second emotionally charged account, the old lady seemed momentarily stunned. She stared at Minglan for a long time, her slightly bloodshot eyes making Minglan uneasy, before finally instructing Mama Xiang to fetch the items.
Minglan secretly wiped away cold sweat, then contentedly handed the tally tokens and keys to the First Wife of Gu Tingxuan. She firmly maintained that "being young and inexperienced, I cannot manage affairs independently," while counting on the Grand Old Madam not daring to assign the matters to Madam Zhu.
With rumors swirling outside these days, all pointing to the Grand Old Madam's "ulterior motives" as stepmother over decades, letting Madam Zhu take charge now would only fuel more gossip—after decades of controlling power under the pretext of the eldest son's poor health requiring his wife's full attention, she still wouldn't relinquish control!
The First Wife of Gu Tingxuan was efficient and, working without constraints, managed the funeral smoothly with remarkable finesse. The arrangements were low-key yet respectful, thorough in etiquette without being cumbersome. When wailing was called for, the entire residence erupted in mournful cries audible half a mile away; when receiving guests, servants moved about in perfect order.
Minglan only needed to carry half a bottle of osmanthus oil and weep at Gu Tingyu's spirit tablet a few times daily. She still had energy to familiarize herself with the Ningyuan Marquis Household's personnel relationships and sneak glances at the storerooms she had long been curious about.
Feeling she had chosen the right person, Minglan expressed gratitude to the First Wife every other day, never repeating her praises, which delighted the latter so much she forgot the exhaustion of sleeping only four hours nightly.
Apart from this, Minglan spent most of her remaining time in Madam Shao's quarters.
While the imperial physician attributed the Grand Old Madam's illness to "emotional distress," Madam Shao had collapsed like a mountain crumbling, her condition so critical it seemed her lamp of life was nearly extinguished. Startled, Minglan thought caring for the living was more meaningful than feigning grief outside, and it would facilitate future relations.
Though Madam Shao initially ignored Minglan, responding to all words and gestures with closed eyes and a cold expression, Minglan remained unperturbed. She gently attended to her, reviewed prescriptions, tested decoctions, shared key updates about visitors at the memorial hall, brought Rong Jie'er to keep Xianjie company, and daily transported delicacies and toys from Clear Garden to help the children temporarily forget their sorrow and eat and sleep better. Not being hardhearted by nature, Madam Shao softened at Minglan's careful attentions, reasoning that longstanding grudges shouldn't be taken out on a new daughter-in-law who had only joined months ago, and gradually became more courteous.
Seeing Madam Shao's despair hindering recovery, with grief worsening her illness, Minglan began sharing exaggerated childhood stories of her own "fear," "confusion," "loneliness," and helplessness after Wei Shi's passing.
"...They say a child without a mother is like weeds—how true those words are..." Minglan's eyes red (having just returned from weeping at the spirit tablet), she whispered with a sob, "My lady is very kind, but she had to manage the entire household and my elder siblings... If not for grandmother's compassion, I, I really don't know..." She left a long pause for Madam Shao to imagine the rest.Madam Shao was indeed terrified. No matter how much she considered the Grand Old Madam a "good person," she couldn't entrust her daughter to her care. Thinking that her daughter had already lost her father, if she were to lose her mother too, who knew what would become of her in the future? With her resolve strengthened, her illness improved significantly. By the day of the funeral, she was even able to get up and express her gratitude to relatives and friends.
Of course, Minglan also received high praise. The Grand Old Madam smiled and complimented her a few words. While feigning humility, Minglan thought to herself: I will learn well, taking you as my example.
This was, in fact, the first time in Minglan's life that she had so meticulously and thoroughly observed mourning attire. Not only were the maids in the courtyard forbidden to wear bright colors, but even Rong Jie'er was newly outfitted with two plain-colored sets of clothing. As for herself, not a single flaw could be found in her attire from head to toe.
Dressed in a Four-color light monochrome willow branch pattern Beizi and a full set of gleaming rice pearl silver ornaments, without a hint of color—even the coral tassel on the tip of her shoes had been removed—Minglan twirled in front of Gu Tingye and asked how she looked.
Gu Tingye curled his lips: "If I were to die, it would probably be with this level of pomp."
The lanterns at the entrance of the marquis's residence were all covered in plain white. Minglan thought that Clear Garden should also hang two small white lanterns as a gesture: "Hanging them for three months should be enough." Unexpectedly, Gu Tingye added, "When the old master passed away, they were only hung for a hundred days. Hanging them for so long, people might think I'm the one who died."
Minglan sighed.
Well, this fellow had been in a bad mood lately, speaking with sarcasm and frequently sneering.
It was like mustering all your strength to confront your enemy, only to have them die before you could even make a move. Not only did they receive a grand funeral, but most of those who owed you favors (and hadn't yet had time to show their support) were now competing to display their grief at the funeral. He couldn't very well say, "My brother and I were sworn enemies in this life, so you don't need to put on such a show," and so on.
Truth be told, Minglan wasn't particularly pleased either. Holding the funeral was one thing, but the endless stream of condolence gifts sent to the marquis's residence... Her heart ached. Since the main branch of the family hadn't yet divided the estate, all the gold, silver, and valuables had to go into the family treasury. Yet, in the future, she would likely be the one repaying these social debts. Who knew how much would be left when the family estate was eventually divided?
Still, she magnanimously advised, "After all, the deceased deserves respect. Now that he's gone, what grievances can you still hold against him?"
"From the moment I understood things, I knew he wouldn't live long," Gu Tingye said expressionlessly. "But that didn't stop him from causing trouble."
His deepest childhood impression of his elder brother was of Gu Tingyu, half-dead and supported by others while drinking medicine, yet still flashing malicious glances as he whispered slander to their father. From childhood to adulthood, he had suffered greatly because of this "sick" person. In his view, illness didn't excuse wrongdoing, and sympathy didn't negate hatred. Those who committed evil deeds should be dragged from their sickbeds to face punishment.
This perspective had a somewhat modern flavor to it, and Minglan immediately expressed her utmost admiration: "Husband, you truly distinguish clearly between gratitude and grievance. A real man indeed!"
Gu Tingye shot her a sidelong glance, his mood improving considerably. He laughed and scolded, "Such a sharp tongue! It's a pity you don't go to court to bandy words with those scholars!"
Lately, he had developed a strong dislike for scholars. Well, this was the second reason for his recent depression.Since June, he had officially taken on the concurrent position of Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Five Military Commissions, leading the Left Army Command, and was additionally granted the title of Junior Guardian of the Heir Apparent. The result of his elevated status was that he began directly participating in discussions on military and state affairs. As the political situation stabilized, all underlying tensions gradually transformed into verbal battles, with the main hall becoming an arena for various factions to contend. A group of people would argue there daily, spitting with fervor.
They would argue over the posthumous title for the Late Emperor; they would argue over the differing ceremonial treatment for the two Empress Dowagers; they would argue over personnel changes and promotions; and when it came to administrative deployments and national policy decisions, they would argue so fiercely they could even skip meals. By the ancestral rules of this dynasty, civil officials restrained military officers, and military officials mostly submitted reports, while debate and discussion were the domain of civil officials.
In the past, when Gu Tingye only minded his own affairs, he could let what was said in the hall go in one ear and out the other while standing and listening. After all, important matters were usually copied and distributed to key ministers for their own review. But now, being half-civil and half-military, he had to prick up his ears and listen carefully. Because when the Emperor was cornered by civil officials and couldn't speak, he loved to ask, "My dear minister X, what do you think of this matter?"
—This "Minister X" was usually rotated among Shen Congxing, Grand Secretary Yao, and a certain Gu, with others making guest appearances as needed.
What did he think? If he had the talent for flowery rhetoric, why would he be in this line of work, making a living by risking his life on the edge of a blade?
What did it matter whether the Late Emperor's posthumous title included an extra character for "civil"? Over such trivial matters, two factions with long-standing grudges would line up their forces and argue from dawn till dusk, spouting classical allusions and quoting ancient texts, debating everything from the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors to the Late Emperor's improper favoritism toward Consort Rong in his later years.
This kind of argument was relatively mild, as the Emperor had no strong opinions and found some amusement in watching his subordinates bicker.
The new Emperor was clearly too inexperienced and unaware of the dangers of the court. When the two factions reached an impasse in their arguments, they would appeal to the Emperor for arbitration.
If the Emperor refused, he was deemed unfilial. The old Emperor had personally pulled you from obscurity, nurtured you, supported you, and established you as heir—and now you think the old Emperor wasn't good enough?! Your conscience is utterly corrupt!
Then followed a string of classical quotes and arguments.
If the Emperor agreed, he was deemed unenlightened. Because the old Emperor had delayed the matter of establishing an heir for over a decade, leading to bloody turmoil across the empire, even the capital was washed in blood, and countless loyal ministers and fine generals died in the two successive upheavals. Shouldn't there be some accountability for this? Your Majesty, for the sake of justice and the hearts of the people, you must dare to sacrifice your own insignificant filial reputation!
Then followed another string of classical quotes and arguments.
The new Emperor was exasperated—even lying down, he got hit by stray bullets from books.
Fortunately, he had allies. After arguing for half a year and expending immense effort, they finally managed to settle the matter.
Recently, the court erupted again over the treatment of the two Empress Dowagers.
The Emperor naturally wished to secure higher honors for his birth mother, but a large faction of civil officials objected, citing that on his deathbed, in a room full of regents, the Late Emperor had orally decreed, "After my passing, treat the Imperial Noble Consort well, with all ceremonies equal to those of the Empress."
In truth, the old Emperor had been delirious with illness, on the verge of death, and in his haze recognized only the Virtuous Consort, who had long accompanied him. From a modern legal perspective, an oral will made under such circumstances wouldn't hold up.For a full half month, the quarrels raged on. The Emperor was so enraged he gnashed his teeth, yet those officials not only refused to yield an inch but also insisted on determining seniority by years of service, demanding that Shengde Taihou reside in the larger and more prestigious eastern rear palace.
At the time, Lao Geng, who was daydreaming during the proceedings, was unexpectedly called upon by the Emperor to speak. In a moment of carelessness, he blurted out, "A birth mother is naturally more honorable than one who isn’t." This statement stirred up a hornet’s nest.
Comrade Lao Geng was immediately met with a torrent of scolding and condemnation, like volcanic ash raining down upon him. "Ignorant and unlearned," "devoid of etiquette," "absurd and foolish"—these were the milder insults. More severe accusations labeled him "scheming" and "harboring ulterior motives."
The poor comrade Lao Geng was so overwhelmed and disoriented by the verbal assault that he reportedly had to be escorted home by Zhong Dayou.
According to Gu Tingye’s speculation, the Emperor actually sympathized with Lao Geng.
In the simple and honest customs of the Shu border region, conflicts were often resolved with swift vengeance—everyone drawing their knives and settling matters with "three cuts and six holes." It’s likely that Comrade Lao Geng had little exposure to the highly aggressive nature of civil officials. Most of them appeared refined and scholarly on the outside, but inwardly, they were fierce and ruthless. They never resorted to physical violence, firmly preferring verbal attacks. With a single brush, they could drag your ancestors into the fray, all the way to your sister-in-law’s second uncle’s nephew’s recent visit to a brothel without paying—a truly bloodless form of murder.
The next day, memorials impeaching him flew into the Grand Secretariat like snowflakes.
According to ancient patriarchal and ritual norms, a legal mother held more importance than a biological one. If a concubine’s son achieved great success, it was the legal wife who received the honors and the Imperial Mandate, while the concubine mother received nothing (though her life might improve considerably). If one insisted on bringing glory to the concubine mother, the legal wife had to be honored first, with any remaining honors trickling down to the concubine mother.
Lao Geng was wronged; he never intended to oppose the powerful forces of ritual propriety.
Upon closer analysis, the situation in the imperial family was not as straightforward.
The Empress was not directly promoted from consort to Empress Dowager; she had been formally installed as Empress through proper ceremonies. In contrast, the Imperial Noble Consort (Virtuous Consort) had leapfrogged from consort to Empress Dowager. She had no son on the throne, so by what right?!
Those civil officials were clearly obfuscating the truth, seizing upon Lao Geng’s misstep to twist and turn the argument, dragging the discussion miles away from the original point.
When the new Emperor first ascended the throne, he had momentarily succumbed to their overwhelming tactics, bewildered by the flood of criticism, and ended up appointing two Empress Dowagers. Now, the inner court was constrained at every turn, and he deeply regretted it.
Perhaps someone had enlightened him behind the scenes. Once the Emperor grasped the situation, he grew even more resolute in his stance. For the sake of his birth mother and to ensure his own future would be smoother, even when Shengde Taihou went to the ancestral temple to mourn the Late Emperor, he refused to concede a single word.
In one swift move, he dismissed five or six particularly outspoken officials and demoted more than ten others, thereby quelling the momentum of that faction. He also pinned the blame for Shengde Taihou’s illness on them, accusing them of "sowing discord within the imperial family and harboring ulterior motives."
This battle ended in a great victory. The only pity was Comrade Lao Geng, who to this day claimed illness and remained at home, too embarrassed to show his face.
However, Grand Secretary Yao remarked that such heavy-handed tactics should not be overused. This time, the Emperor had some justification, and the matter did not significantly impact the true interests of the state. If the Emperor repeatedly used force to suppress dissent, his reputation would suffer.
Minglan nodded in agreement. Truly, the older ginger is spicier. Grand Secretary Yao’s words had hit the mark.It is indeed better to heed advice and adopt the opinions of ministers, pooling collective wisdom. After all, the emperor and Gu Tingye's group have limited experience in governance, and many state affairs are still being learned. The differences in public sentiment across the east, west, south, and north are vast, and the factions within the officialdom are complex. If one acts arbitrarily and something goes wrong, there won't even be an excuse to shift blame—it will all be the emperor's fault.
Thus, our classmate Gu had no choice but to exert himself diligently.
To avoid disappointing the emperor and, more importantly, to avoid repeating the misfortune of Comrade Lao Geng, he spent his evenings studying documents and analyzing them carefully. During work hours, he stayed alert, listening intently to the scholars' debates, not daring to slack off for a moment. After returning home, he had to visit his deceased elder brother's mourning hall, and even if he couldn't shed tears, he had to force out a few dry sobs for appearances. Under such circumstances, it would be strange if he didn't feel depressed.
Fortunately, he was an exceptionally intelligent person. By the time his late elder brother's seventh seventh-day memorial had passed, he was already able to interject a few words during court discussions—and, as Grand Secretary Yao put it, his interjections were remarkably insightful.
A few days ago, the topic of salt administration was raised in court.
In recent years, the salt administration had been in chaos, with rampant illegal salt trading. Official salt taxes could not be collected, and the accounts were impeccably falsified, with everyone involved colluding. The Late Emperor had dispatched several teams to investigate, but they either returned empty-handed or ended up trapped there, eventually returning to the capital in prison carts to report their failure.
The current emperor wanted to rectify the situation, but the officials, as usual, argued endlessly. Their general consensus was that it was better not to stir things up, as any disturbance would unravel a tangled mess and destabilize the empire.
Gu Tingye listened for an entire morning before singling out the most vocal official and humbly asking, "Setting aside other matters, let's just ask whether the salt administration should be rectified or not."
The official flushed red and rambled on about the consequences, impacts, and difficulties.
Gu Tingye then asked, "So, are you saying we should not rectify it? Just let it rot?"
No matter how the others twisted their words, Gu Tingye stuck to one question: For the sake of the nation and its people, should the salt administration be rectified or not?
Salt taxes once accounted for one-fifth of the national treasury's revenue, but now they didn't even make up one-fiftieth. With the salt administration in such a state of decay, no official dared to openly oppose its rectification. For a moment, the court fell silent. Seeing this, the emperor's confidence surged.
Excellent, excellent. Since everyone agreed that the salt administration should be rectified, the next questions were: "How to rectify it?" "Who should be sent to do it?" and "Should it be a gradual approach or a swift and decisive one?"
Minglan greatly admired this. Gu Tingye was indeed quick to learn. He hadn't studied policy discussions for long but already knew how to employ the method of dissecting arguments. However, when the court began discussing candidates for rectifying the salt administration, Minglan couldn't help but feel anxious: "Do... do you want to go?"
Gu Tingye sat upright in his armchair, sleeves swaying, and said with a smile, "I told His Majesty this morning that such meticulous work is not my forte."
Minglan patted her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.
Life was truly difficult for women in ancient times. They didn't want their husbands to be like Hai Rui, nor did they want them to become like Yan Song. The ideal was someone like Tan Lun—loyal and righteous, with connections throughout the empire, who could enjoy high rank and generous emoluments, die a natural death, and pass blessings on to his descendants.
Seeing her like this, Gu Tingye smiled and gently pinched her earlobe, saying softly, "Don't worry. His Majesty has a clear plan this time. After the military unrest in Lianghuai at the end of last year, many personnel changes were made in garrisons and military posts across the regions. Most of the regional military commanders are loyal to the emperor's orders, which is why His Majesty has decided to act now."Minglan clung to the man's arm, beaming like a morning glory as she nestled her head against his sturdy shoulder. Softly, she murmured, "As long as you're safe and sound, I care not for any wealth or glory." Her tone was tender yet hesitant, her body warm and pliant.
Gu Tingye felt a tickle in his heart. He wrapped his arm around Minglan in return, his gaze darkening as a smile played on his lips. Slowly, his hand began to wander downward.
Minglan pressed his descending hand, her face flushing. "We're still in mourning garments," she reminded him.
No form of contraception was entirely foolproof, especially when she was currently at her most fertile.
Gu Tingye's face was grim as he held Minglan for a long while before finally straightening up and striding out. Seeing his dark expression, Minglan chased after him and asked softly.
"Going to tear down the lanterns."
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