After a few days of such studies, Zhuang Xiansheng's wife had everything settled and proposed to Old Madam that she teach the three young ladies guqin for a few afternoons each month. Old Mrs. Sheng initially refused, fearing it would be too much trouble for her, but Zhuang Xiansheng's wife thumped her chest in a rather gallant manner to assure her, so Old Mrs. Sheng had no choice but to agree. Minglan, who happened to be taking a nap in the Pear Blossom Cabinet at the time, overheard this and suddenly understood why Zhuang Xiansheng's tuition fees were so high—truly, you get what you pay for. It turned out to be a "buy one, get one free" deal.
However, free additions aren't always good. Zhuang Xiansheng's wife was even harder to fool than her husband. With Zhuang Xiansheng, there was no need to hand in homework, recite texts, or answer questions—just writing a few essays when free was enough. But Zhuang Xiansheng's wife was strict and meticulous. Each girl had a seven-stringed guqin placed before her, and the teacher taught them note by note, finger by finger, with timed checks and exams.
After rounds of gong, jue, shang, zhi, and yu—the five notes of the ancient Chinese scale—Minglan felt dizzy and her ears were ringing. She finally realized she didn't have an ounce of artistic talent in her; no wonder her music elective teacher in college had rejected her back then. Rulan also suffered greatly during guqin lessons. Unlike Minglan, she had little patience and could break five or six strings in a single morning. Mo Lan, however, was a natural talent. She picked it up immediately and played with effortless grace. After being praised a few times by Zhuang Xiansheng's wife, she practiced even more diligently. Within a hundred feet of Linqi Pavilion, birds and sparrows fled in alarm.
But the guqin, being a refined instrument, often finds few admirers. In this era, most common people's ultimate goal was merely food and shelter. It was likely that those who could understand and appreciate the guqin were rarer than ancient pandas. Minglan weighed her status as the daughter of a sixth-ranking official and thought to herself that if her future husband wasn't an avid listener of vulgar tunes, she'd be laughing secretly. How could she expect him to understand such highbrow music?
About a month later, Hualan sent her first letter home from the capital. Old Mrs. Sheng's eyes were too blurry to read it, and Madam Wang was illiterate. Since the letter contained some private matters of the inner household that shouldn't be known by boys or servants, Rulan and Minglan ended up reading it together, stumbling through the words.
It was a letter to report she was safe and sound, roughly saying that her married life was quite happy, and Yuanwenshao treated her with considerable tenderness. However, the two existing bedroom servants in his quarters had been serving him since childhood, which made Hualan uncomfortable. Fortunately, since their marriage, Yuanwenshao had paid them no attention. Her father-in-law, the old earl of Zhongqin Manor, quite liked this lively and pleasing new daughter-in-law, but her mother-in-law was rather indifferent, favoring only the eldest daughter-in-law. Upon inquiry, Hualan learned that the eldest daughter-in-law was the daughter of the countess's own cousin—no wonder she couldn't intervene. Still, because Yuanwenshao was quite successful outside, he was respected within that low-key earl's household, and the matrons and stewards didn't dare look down on Hualan. All in all, her life was rather good.
As Minglan read, she thought it wasn't bad. After all, the father-in-law was the real authority in the earl's household, and having his favor was a good thing. Generally speaking, as long as a father-in-law's fondness for his daughter-in-law didn't extend to places like Tianxiang Tower, it was all for the best!
Only after hearing the entire letter did Madam Wang let out a long sigh of relief. She knew Hualan was usually picky; if something was three parts good, she'd only praise one. Given her current description, married life must be quite comfortable."It's common for parents to rely on their eldest son and value their eldest daughter-in-law. Tell our eldest daughter not to take it to heart, just live her life well—be filial to her in-laws and serve her husband dutifully..." Old Mrs. Sheng couldn't help but nag.
Madam Wang sighed. "I know that's the way it is, but Hualan has always been the foremost in the family since childhood, never overshadowed by anyone. Now... Ah, it'll be better once the family divides the estate. After all, the manor will go to the eldest branch, and it's not bad for Hualan and her husband to live independently. Besides, my son-in-law is quite capable."
Under normal circumstances, Old Mrs. Sheng would have preached principles like "no division of family while parents are alive," but her heart ached for Hualan, whom she had raised since childhood, so she softened and said, "It's good to learn some rules in front of the elders. Once they have their own household later, everything will fall into place. What's important now is to have good news of a pregnancy soon..."
...
Time flew by, and the Sheng residence remained peaceful and uneventful. Old Mrs. Sheng gradually reorganized the household rules, while Madam Wang slowly regained control of the management duties. All matters were handled according to individual ranks, and any unresolved issues were referred to Old Mrs. Sheng. Sheng Hong was quite satisfied to see the household in good order, with servants and stewards all obedient and efficient. The only exception was Linqi Pavilion, where complaints were rampant. Remembering Kong Momo's advice, Sheng Hong steeled himself and ignored Consort Lin, even when Feng Ge'er and Sister Mo pleaded on her behalf. He put on a stern fatherly face and scolded them each time they tried.
Consort Lin, however, refused to give up. Having enjoyed exclusive favor for over a decade, she was accustomed to getting her way. She employed various tactics—feigning illness, acting melancholic, weeping and complaining, or sowing discord. But Sheng Hong had shared a bed with her for more than ten years, and the same tricks repeated over and over lost their effectiveness. He developed strong resistance to them and instead found himself frequently recalling the kindness Old Mrs. Sheng had shown him in his youth. He grew increasingly remorseful about his lack of filial piety and, reflecting on the reasons for the estrangement between mother and son, experienced a domino effect of emotions. Hardening his heart, he cold-shouldered Consort Lin and poured all his energy into his work.
Encouraging farming and weaving, regulating merchants—within just two or three years, he managed Dengzhou so well that it became prosperous and affluent, contributing substantial tax revenues and achieving commendable administrative results. Coupled with his skill in handling interpersonal relationships, he regularly maintained connections with acquaintances both locally and in the capital. When his three-year term ended, he received another outstanding performance evaluation, was promoted to the fifth rank, and granted a consecutive term.
With his official career flourishing and his path to advancement smooth, Sheng Hong paid little attention to Consort Lin's constant sulking. Instead, he grew accustomed to Madam Wang's unreasonable and irritable temperament—like vomiting repeatedly until it became routine. He occasionally quarreled with her, but as he now stood on firm moral ground, Madam Wang had no retort. Whenever she acted inappropriately, Sheng Hong would seize the opportunity to criticize her, labeling her with heavy accusations like "unfilial," "disrespectful," "impolite," or "unvirtuous." Madam Wang was defenseless against these charges, and Sheng Hong emerged victorious every time. In his daily life, he occasionally visited the young and attractive Concubine Xiang and Concubine Ping to lift his spirits, offering guidance on his children's studies and conduct. All in all, his days passed quite comfortably.
Seeing that the situation was unfavorable, Consort Lin mustered all her gentleness and charm, not daring to make any further demands for special treatment. It took immense effort to win back some of Sheng Hong's favor, but from then on, she became much more subdued.Minglan nestled in the Longevity and Peace Hall, keeping Old Mrs. Sheng company with playful banter. The elderly lady and the young girl got along splendidly, their harmonious laughter and chatter creating a continuous stream of joy. Whenever Sheng Hong came to pay his respects, he found the atmosphere in the hall so comfortable and pleasant that he gradually relaxed, engaging with the old madam with increasing ease. Sometimes he would even pick up Minglan’s failed embroidery attempts, teasing her affectionately. With Molan and Rulan joining in the fun, Changbai and Changfeng making satisfactory progress in their studies, and his wives having tempered their tempers, the household appeared harmonious at a glance. Sheng Hong almost felt as if the nation were at peace and the people content.
That afternoon, there was yet another guqin lesson with Madam Zhuang. Minglan had been feeling a soreness in her fingers since morning, and to make matters worse, Zhuang Xiansheng seemed intent on lecturing endlessly. If the class dragged on like this, there would be no time to rest at noon. She looked up mournfully and noticed that, aside from herself and Changdong, who was practicing calligraphy, everyone else was energetically engaged in academic discussions.
The hottest topic in the capital at the moment was the rivalry between the Third Prince and the Fourth Prince for the throne. The Third Prince had recently taken in numerous concubines, laboring day and night until he saw stars, yet his efforts yielded little—he still had no son. His residence was filled with Taoist priests and Buddhist monks, burning incense and offering prayers daily, which displeased many previously observant censors and imperial historians. In contrast, the Fourth Prince’s only son was thriving, already beginning to babble. The Fourth Prince, content and stout, had even improved in temperament, attracting an increasing number of supporters.
The emperor’s health declined with each passing day, and the debate over the crown prince had intensified. Both sides had their factions waving flags and shouting slogans, frequently citing classics and historical texts, arguing with great fervor.
Today, Zhuang Xiansheng was lecturing on a passage from The School Sayings of Confucius: Gongxi Chi’s Questions on Etiquette and Ceremonies, which contained the line, “When Gongyi Zhongzi’s legitimate son died, he established his younger brother.” As a good teacher, he often connected theory with reality to explain the text. Being bold and unconventional by nature, he posed the topic for his students to debate—should inheritance follow the eldest legitimate son, or should it be based on virtue and ability? Which is better?
Initially, both Changbai and Changfeng objected, fearing that discussing court politics might bring trouble. But Zhuang Xiansheng waved his hand and laughed, “No matter, no matter! Even teahouses in the capital often debate this now, let alone the mansions of dukes, marquises, counts, and high officials. It’s harmless to discuss it behind closed doors. Besides, today we’re debating the principles of legitimacy and merit, not court affairs. Let’s all join the discussion!”
This topic held practical significance in the Sheng household as well. With the teacher’s encouragement, the students eagerly joined the debate. The sides were clear: Changbai and Rulan naturally supported the eldest legitimate son, while Changfeng and Molan instinctively leaned toward virtue and ability. As for the others, Minglan idled along, and Changdong abstained.
Changbai began by subtly citing the example of Qin Er Shi, Huhai, the notoriously incompetent emperor who set a precedent, arguing that disregarding the principle of primogeniture could ruin a prosperous dynasty. Changfeng quickly rebutted with the example of Emperor Wu of Han—Liu Zhi, the "Little Pig," was one of the younger sons of Emperor Jing of Han. Well-versed in the classics and histories, Changbai succinctly pointed out that even though Emperor Jing doted on Liu Zhi, he first made Consort Wang his empress, thus legitimizing the succession according to ritual laws before rightfully elevating Little Pig to the crown prince. This, he argued, precisely underscored the importance of the eldest legitimate son principle.Changfeng’s heart skipped a beat. Molan followed up, gently bringing up the famous foolish emperor, Emperor Hui of Jin, and said softly, “…All the court officials knew Emperor Hui was foolish, yet he was still installed as heir because he was the eldest son by the principal wife. This led to the subsequent dominance of Empress Jia Nanfeng and the War of the Eight Princes. If another young prince had been installed instead, the Jin Dynasty would not have been forced to retreat to the south. Eldest Brother, what do you think?”
Rulan lacked theoretical arguments but made up for it with her vigorous momentum: “How many fools like Emperor Hui of Jin are there in the world? Does Fourth Sister think all the eldest sons by principal wives in the world are fools?”
On one side, they cited the extreme example of Emperor Yang of Sui, who deposed the eldest son and installed a younger one, lamenting with deep sorrow the disasters his tyranny brought to the common people. On the other side, they immediately countered with the example of Li Shimin, lavishly praising the prosperous Zhenguan era to illustrate that a second son is not necessarily inferior to the eldest. The two sides argued fiercely, evenly matched. However, with Zhuang Xiansheng presiding, the atmosphere remained civil, though undercurrents of tension persisted.
After arguing for a long time, everyone grew thirsty and realized Minglan was still leisurely sitting to the side. They immediately turned their fire on her, demanding she take a stance. Minglan’s eyelids twitched—they were forcing her to pick a side! If she acted timid now, she would gradually be excluded from the equal footing among siblings. The fate of being overly timid, afraid to speak up, and always shrinking back had already been perfectly illustrated by Miss Yingchun.
Of course, this did not align with Minglan’s character either. After thinking for a moment, she smiled and said to her siblings and Zhuang Xiansheng, “I have an idea in mind, but I’m not good with words. How about I act out a scene for everyone to see? It’ll be entertaining. But once it starts, no one is allowed to speak.”
Zhuang Xiansheng, always eager for amusement, nodded happily. The others agreed as well. Minglan immediately called Danju in and whispered instructions in her ear. Danju acknowledged and soon returned with three little maids wearing double buns. One was Yancao, newly assigned to Minglan, while the other two were Rulan and Molan’s personal maids.
The three little maids stood timidly in the hall, kowtowed to their masters, and then stood stiffly, glancing at each other in confusion.
Minglan spoke gently to them: “Just now, Zhuang Xiansheng was lecturing us and evaluating the merits of us three sisters. Since Zhuang Xiansheng is new to the household, and we can’t very well praise ourselves, we’ve decided to ask you three eloquent ones to speak up. Whoever speaks well will be rewarded!”
Yancao looked up at Minglan in pleasant surprise, while the other two glanced at their own mistresses. Seeing all three young ladies nod in agreement, they took it as true. Minglan smiled and glanced at the audience before turning back to the three maids with a serious expression: “First, tell us—among Fourth Sister, Fifth Sister, and me, which of the three young ladies is the most virtuous, intelligent, and good-tempered?”The young maids, being still quite young and lacking in guile, began to speak up one after another. One said that Rulan practiced calligraphy daily and was filial to her parents; another claimed that Molan recited poetry and composed verses every day, exuding the grace of a noble lady. Yancao mentioned that Minglan worked diligently day and night on her embroidery, often multitasking. At first, they spoke somewhat reservedly, but unable to resist Minglan's enthusiastic encouragement, occasional interjections, and increased rewards, they grew increasingly animated. As they spoke, they became agitated, gradually turning red-faced and pointing fingers, accusing each other of talking nonsense, and even descending into personal attacks among the maids.
Minglan quickly waved her hands, stopping them before a quarrel broke out, and asked again, "Let me ask you, among us three sisters, who is the eldest?" This time, the three young maids had no objections. After a moment, they murmured in unison that it was Molan. Hearing a rustling sound behind her, Minglan ignored it and pressed on, "Then, among us three sisters, who was born of the lady?" This time, Rulan's maid declared loudly, "Of course, it's our young lady." The others had no rebuttal.
Minglan turned her head and smiled at the crowd. Zhuang Xiansheng's eyes held a hint of approval, and he gave her a slight nod. Minglan knew this counted as praise and turned back cheerfully, only to unexpectedly catch Changbai looking at her. The moment their eyes met, Changbai, as if touched by divine inspiration, offered her a faint smile. Minglan was instantly horrified.
Sheng Changbai was an anomaly in the entire Sheng residence—by nature taciturn, dignified and rigorous in conduct, mature beyond his years. Whether in studies or actions, he carried himself with practiced composure, a stark contrast to the eloquent, cheerful, and socially adept Sheng Hong. Rumor had it he resembled his long-deceased maternal grandfather from the Wang family and that even toward his birth mother, Madam Wang, he often wore an expression as if she were dead.
Today's smile was probably something even his own younger sister, Rulan, had never received. Minglan tugged at her chilled neck.
At this point, Changfeng couldn't help but speak up, "Sixth Sister, this approach is improper." Everyone turned to look at him as Changfeng raised an eyebrow and said, "These little maids have just entered service not long ago and haven't fully learned the rules. How could they discern virtues like kindness, intelligence, or good temper? Naturally, they'd argue out of loyalty to their mistresses." Changbai remained silent, merely quirking the corner of his mouth slightly. Minglan hummed in acknowledgment and said, "Third Brother makes a valid point. Let's switch to something easier to distinguish."
She then turned back to the three young maids and asked with a serious expression, "You're young and don't understand the rules, but you have eyes. Let me ask you: among the three young ladies here, who is the most beautiful—so stunning she could make fish sink and geese fall, outshine the moon and put flowers to shame, rivaling celestial beings? Surely you can tell that much."
Minglan finished in one breath, and as soon as she spoke, everyone burst into laughter. Zhuang Xiansheng leaned on his desk, shaking with mirth, while the others snorted with amusement. Changbai also shook his head with a faint smile. But amid these sounds, a light chuckle distinctly out of place came from behind the screen at Zhuang Xiansheng's back, where there was a rear door. Could it be some unruly servant who had slipped in?
After the brief laughter subsided, everyone looked suspiciously toward the screen. Changbai's voice deepened as he demanded, "Who is back there? How dare you trespass here?"The next moment, a youth emerged from behind the screen. He wore a lake-blue cross-collared robe embroidered with silver thread and plain circular patterns, fastened at the waist by a pale blue jade-adorned belt. From it hung a moon-white gourd-shaped pouch trimmed with blue edging, decorated with a gleaming tourmaline bead as a clasp. The young man seemed to have just arrived from outside, his shoulders dusted with pink peach blossom petals. His raven-black hair was loosely tied up with a jade crown.
Upon seeing him, Zhuang Xiansheng smiled and said, "Yuan Ruo, what brings you here? Where is your shiniang?"
The youth approached Zhuang Xiansheng's desk, clasped his hands in a respectful bow, and rose to speak clearly: "Sir, it has been too long. Since we parted in the capital, I have been fortunate to see you again today. Shiniang asked me to wait outside, but no matter how long I waited, your lesson never ended. Growing impatient, I took the liberty of sneaking into the back hall. I hope my fellow disciples will not take offense."
With that, he cupped his hands in a general salute to the Sheng family children. The youth's smile was gentle, his lips red and teeth white, his eyes bright and brows elegant. His posture was as straight and graceful as a cluster of green bamboo, radiating the captivating charm of a renowned beauty. Anyone who saw him would exclaim, "What a handsome young man!"
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【Author's Note】
Ancient China practiced the primogeniture inheritance system. Don’t think this system was absurd—it was actually born from bloody lessons. While the legitimacy of the eldest son was clear, assessing wisdom and virtue was subjective. One might claim someone was virtuous, while another argued another was more so. How could wisdom be compared? It could easily lead to conflict. Eventually, the scholar-official class, after much reflection, concluded that primogeniture was the safest approach (though there were exceptions).
From the Han Dynasty onward, through unified dynasties like the Tang, Song, and Ming, primogeniture was generally followed—prioritizing legitimacy and seniority (with many exceptions). By the Song Dynasty, primogeniture had largely become established (with few exceptions). The Ming Dynasty inherited Song rituals and firmly enforced primogeniture, though exceptions still occurred—the first being the iron-willed Yongle Emperor (Zhu Di).
After this, unless there were no sons, the Ming Dynasty strictly adhered to primogeniture without exception. The most classic case was the great tragedy of the Wanli Emperor.
In his youth, Wanli casually consorted with a low-ranking palace maid and promptly forgot about her. Unexpectedly, the maid proved fertile, bearing a son from that single encounter. Later, Wanli met his true love, Consort Zheng, who surpassed the maid in background, beauty, and favor. Her son, the Prince of Fu, became the apple of Wanli’s eye.
Despite this stark contrast, under the strong opposition of the powerful civil official group, Wanli struggled desperately for twenty years but still failed to succeed. In the end, he reluctantly granted the maid some unspecified consort title and, with a heavy heart, appointed her son as crown prince while sending the Prince of Fu to a distant region as a feudal lord.
The court officials’ reasoning was simple: The Empress had no sons. Whether consort or maid, both were concubines. Between two illegitimate sons, the elder must be appointed.
Even the emperor could not break this rule!
However, the primogeniture system prevalent in many dynasties was not strictly enforced in the Qing Dynasty.First, the early successions in the Qing Dynasty were rather irregular. Nurhaci—Hong Taiji died suddenly under mysterious circumstances, making the succession questionable. Hong Taiji—Fulin (Shunzhi) reportedly involved intrigues between Dorgon and Empress Dowager Xiaozhuang (I’ll say no more). Fulin—Kangxi, though the third son, was the only one who had survived smallpox and had the highest maternal status (his mother held the rank of consort). Then came the unprecedentedly fierce "Struggle of the Nine Princes." I won’t elaborate on that either, as I’m sure my sisters can recite it by heart (a contribution of Qing time-travel novels).
After Yongzheng ascended the throne, haunted by the brutal succession struggles, our brilliant Fourth Brother devised the method of secret succession edicts, encapsulated in the principle "the reigning emperor does not publicly appoint an heir" (Yinreng, that unfortunate child, was the only officially designated crown prince in the entire Qing Dynasty). This approach aimed to prevent conflicts among princes while allowing the emperor to choose his preferred successor.
The procedure roughly went as follows: The name of the chosen successor was written on a testamentary edict in duplicate. One copy was placed high behind the "Rectitude and Brilliance" plaque in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, while the other was kept secretly by the emperor and handed to a trusted minister (or possibly the empress dowager or empress) just before his death. After the emperor passed away, the edict behind the plaque would be retrieved and read aloud. If doubts arose, the second copy could be produced for verification. Starting from Yongzheng, successions in the Qing Dynasty became largely peaceful.
Fourth Brother was quite inventive—he also conceived the "Blood Drop Squad" and the Grand Council. So clever! ( ^_^ )
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