Our family is the renowned Youyang Sheng clan of Jinling. Since my great-great-grandfather fortunately achieved third place in the imperial examinations but unfortunately died young, my great-grandfather Lord Sheng Hong had already risen to the second-rank official position upon his retirement. His three sons all became imperial scholars through dual examinations and entered government service. Among them, my grandfather Lord Sheng Changbai became a revered elder statesman serving two dynasties, honored in the Hall of Famous Ministers. He entered the grand secretariat four times, served as chancellor three times, held positions across all six ministries and thirteen provinces, with disciples and former subordinates spread throughout the realm.
And I am merely an insignificant concubine-born daughter in this prestigious family, born to the unfavored son at that.
Grandfather governed the household with extreme strictness, demanding his four sons first cultivate themselves and regulate their families before discussing governing the state and bringing peace to the world. Any misconduct would immediately be punished according to family law. While the first three sons met his expectations, my father was the exception.
When my father was young, Grandfather happened to be transferred to the northwest as a frontier governor. Grandmother routinely accompanied him, leaving their frail youngest son to be raised by Great-grandmother Madam Wang. The elderly lady inevitably spoiled him, and by the time Grandfather and Grandmother returned to the capital, her son had already been indulged into becoming arrogant and pleasure-seeking.
Later, when Grandfather attempted to discipline him several times, Great-grandmother would invariably weep and wail, threatening to kill herself. Ultimately, with his busy court duties, Grandfather couldn't battle his elderly mother and young son daily. Thus my father drifted through life neither succeeding nor failing completely until marriage and fatherhood.
What does "neither succeeding nor failing" mean? If one said he was ambitious - in the Sheng family known for being covered in official honors, he only managed to become a stipendiary scholar. But if one called him scum - he never truly mingled with Beijing's profligate sons to keep mistresses, courtesans, or opera singers.
By the time I could walk and jump, I could still often see Great-grandmother holding my no-longer-young father in her arms, wailing at Grandfather who held the family law rod: "...Who says my Ahuan is no good? Ordinary families struggle to produce even one imperial scholar, but it's just that the Sheng ancestors burned such fine incense that every descendant excels at studies, making Ahuan seem inferior everywhere! What's wrong with taking a few more maids? I know you dislike me, seeing how I dote on Ahuan more, you want to torment him to death! Aiyoye, I might as well dash my brains out first and be done with it..."
Facing the grandparent-grandson pair crying together, even the omnipotent Grandfather had to relent. The embarrassed Grandmother would then turn to comfort her daughter-in-law, and the matter would be considered closed.
The legal wife and my father shared little affection. After bearing a son and daughter, the couple basically stayed out of each other's way. Her greatest daily amusement was satirizing my father through artistic means - sometimes composing doggerel, sometimes painting, and most frequently using my father as a negative example to educate my elder brother to study well and cultivate self-reflection.
Unable to confront the legal wife, my father could only keep respectfully distant. Except for the few monthly visits required by family rules, he usually lingered among his concubines. My mother could expect his company three or four days each month.
Given my father's limited courage and wisdom, he neither dared to acquaint himself with any "humble-born but ambitious" remarkable women, nor had anyone arrange respectable concubines for him. Thus his concubines uniformly consisted of household maids.
My mother occupied a middle position among my father's contingent - neither as favored as the later Concubine Li, nor as neglected as Concubine Zhao who lost favor before fading beauty. Her greatest rival was Concubine Qiu who lived across the courtyard.
They had been sold into the Sheng household one after another, entered the inner quarters as young master's maids in succession. Concubine Qiu had her hair pinned two decades earlier, but my mother was elevated to concubine status three days sooner. They even bore daughters merely half a month apart. Truly, they were locked in eternal struggle - well-matched adversaries.The maids, elderly servants, and even the cats on either side never interacted, making even Seventh Sister, born of Concubine Qiu, glare at me like a jealous rival—their current greatest competition being to see who would bear a son first.
What was the point?
I’m not saying the two concubines had no reason—bearing a son is the greatest purpose and pursuit in a woman’s life, so of course they should strive for it. I meant, what was the point for Seventh Sister?
Our elder cousin, born of a concubine, had already married. At the time, our uncle held a sixth-rank official position, and with our grandfather’s prestige, she was betrothed to a wealthy scholar. By that logic, my father was merely a stipendiary scholar, and not favored by Grandfather. Most likely, Seventh Sister and I would end up as wives of scholars or local gentry, or perhaps even married into merchant families.
Six of one, half a dozen of the other—it all depended on whether Seventh Sister preferred scholarly status or silver ingots. As for me, it made no difference. Given our family’s standing and traditions, we wouldn’t use our daughters to climb the social ladder, nor would our legal mother deliberately arrange poor marriages for us. But constrained by circumstances—Father being essentially a commoner—our fates were largely predetermined. What was there to fight over?
Yet Seventh Sister couldn’t see it. From appearance and attire to learning and upbringing, she competed with me in every way and achieved overwhelming victory.
My concubine-mother, frustrated by my lack of ambition, nagged me daily. Worn down, I finally turned the tables and lectured her: “Why should a concubine-born daughter stand out? Competing with the legitimate daughter is just asking for trouble. It’s like you concubines—if you act more virtuous, capable, talented, and renowned than the legal wife, or share a deeper bond with Father, sworn to life and death… you’d probably be nearing your end.”
Unable to argue, she could only beat her chest and curse my lack of drive: “What demon has possessed you? Why are you so stubbornly unambitious?”
I humbly replied that it wasn’t stubbornness—just keen observation.
In Grandfather’s generation, there were two famously accomplished aunt-grandmothers born of concubines. One not only married gloriously into prominence but also completely tamed her husband. The old Marquis of Gu, a man whose stomp could shake the imperial court, remained devoted to her his entire life. Rumor had it that from the day she entered his household, he refused to ride even a mare. When she fell gravely ill later, the battle-hardened old marquis wept as if his father had died—though his father had long passed.
Were they not in their sixties or seventies? Was it really necessary?
Such exclusive favor inevitably drew criticism among the noble families of the capital. But my aunt-grandmother was exceptionally well-regarded. From the inner circles of the Duke of Ying’s residence, the Marquess of Northern Power’s household, to the Zheng, Bo, Fu, and Duan families… many high-born ladies were close to her. When everyone follows the crowd, which busybody would dare gossip? Moreover, it was proven that this aunt-grandmother brought prosperity to both her husband and sons—she bore four accomplished sons, with a higher success rate than even Grandfather.The youngest fourth maternal uncle of the Gu family neither pursued literary studies nor martial arts, nor was he willing to marry. Traveling across the vast lands of the empire, he completed the "Comprehensive Atlas of the Realm" at the age of thirty-six and presented it to the emperor, causing a sensation throughout the land. The atlas documented the customs, landscapes, and breathtaking scenery of the two capitals and thirteen provinces with elegant and vivid prose, making readers feel as if they were personally present. For a time, its popularity made paper as precious as in Luoyang. The illustrations, rendered in dreamy and enchanting colors with precise scaling, depicted grand vistas so immersive that viewers standing before the large, multi-person-sized maps felt the magnificent scenery rushing toward them, leaving them breathless. The volume on local customs now hangs on the main wall of the Qianqing Palace, while the military volume is secretly stored in the Ministry of War.
Having been preempted by his third elder brother, who enjoyed sailing eastward across the seas, the fourth uncle had no choice but to journey west. He followed the ancient path once trodden by the Han envoy Zhang Qian, traversing yellow sands and formidable mountains, witnessing the awe-inspiring desert sunsets. In the barren soil where bleached bones lay buried, resilient flowers bloomed, standing proud and unyielding, unchanged for millennia—even someone as carefree as I couldn’t hold back tears when reading this passage.
The latest news about the fourth uncle is that, seemingly at the age of forty, he charmed the only daughter of a distant Western Regions king and plans to remain there as an "old cow eating tender grass"—marrying the princess and inheriting the throne.
Inspired by the third and fourth uncles, ambitious young men across the land took pride in emulating them, embarking on journeys east and west to explore the world.
For the Sheng family’s daughters, this paternal aunt was an idol, a role model, and a guiding star. Whether born of principal wives or concubines, they all wished to follow in the footsteps of her legend. Unfortunately, none have succeeded to this day.
As the saying goes, "The greatest victor leaves no trace of glory." This paternal aunt’s life in the inner quarters was both ordinary and low-key. She never gained particular renown for talent, virtue, or benevolence—only heard to be extremely filial and deeply devoted to her great-grandmother. She repeatedly vied with her elder brother to care for their great-grandmother but was repeatedly thwarted by him, ending in resentful defeat. Even when she herself became a grandmother, she remained undeterred. Fortunately, her elder brother remained vigorous in his old age, skillfully blocking her efforts and successfully ensuring their great-grandmother lived out her final years under his care.
—From these accounts, it seems this paternal aunt was entirely inconspicuous in her youth. How, then, could one emulate her?
What opportunities do young women have to distinguish themselves? They can only focus on scholarly pursuits. Once, the most favored fifth elder sister spent an entire year composing a sixty-line "Ode to the Plum Blossom" for her grandfather’s sixtieth birthday, only to receive a brief half-sentence in response: "Young ladies should prioritize self-cultivation in their studies." Fifth sister’s eyes reddened instantly.
In truth, the best poetry came from fourth elder sister. That year, at the chrysanthemum appreciation banquet hosted by Princess Fuyang, she won much praise for a five-character quatrain. Yet upon returning home, she was scolded by their grandmother and punished to copy Buddhist sutras and "Admonitions for Women" for three months.
"Her Highness clearly intended for her own daughter to shine—she specifically invited that bookish third prince to listen, hoping to foster a romance between cousins. Why did she have to cause trouble?"—Third elder sister, who never got along with fourth sister, remarked smugly.
Grandfather most disliked young women dabbling in poetry and painting, while grandmother most despised them drawing attention to themselves outside. This was because of another equally renowned paternal aunt—dissatisfied with the marriage arrangement made by their great-grandfather, she had ventured out to find a husband herself, acting indiscreetly in public. Although the marriage ultimately took place, people still occasionally gossip about it to this day.In the end, she didn’t fare well either, giving birth to five daughters in one go, all of whom married beneath their station. The reason I know this so clearly is that back then, Grandaunt Liang searched far and wide for suitable sons-in-law but found no good candidates. She then wanted to marry her daughters back into her maiden family. My father and three uncles, along with three uncles from Fourth Grandfather’s household, made such a fuss that the entire estate knew about it, yet all were politely declined.
Only her own elder brother and sister-in-law reluctantly accepted one daughter, and even then, it was to a illegitimate son. However, I’ve heard the couple gets along quite well, and he has since gone to learn business with our eldest uncle back in our hometown.
Since the Sheng family’s daughters were already so colorful and bustling with activity, there was no need for me to join the excitement. I spent my days eating and sleeping, doing little embroidery, and not putting much effort into my studies. Knowing that Li Bai and Li Taibai were the same person, and that Li Guang and Li Guangli were two different people, was good enough for me.
By the time I turned nine, Seventh Sister across the street had grown increasingly slender and graceful. Even at a young age, she was strikingly pretty—her waist was a waist, her legs were legs. Meanwhile, I grew rounder and rounder. With my small frame and fleshy body, I was as plump as a little piglet.
Concubine was on the verge of tears looking at me, convinced I had squandered her legacy of beauty, that I was self-abandoning, self-degrading, and self-destructive—Concubine only knew a handful of idioms, which she had picked up haphazardly while flirting with Father back when she served in his study, and she used every last one of them on me.
I patiently countered with my own re-education: A girl marries in her teens, then serves her in-laws, pleases her sisters- and brothers-in-law, supports her husband, raises children, manages the household’s concubines and bedroom servants. When others eat, she watches; when others sit, she stands. No matter how bitter her heart, she must wear a smile on her face… She endures this for decades until she finally becomes a mother-in-law herself and can take out her frustrations by bullying other families’ daughters—but if her own mother-in-law is still alive, it’s not over yet, and she must endure further.
The only truly comfortable years in a woman’s life are these few as an unmarried girl. Though I am illegitimate, I am fortunate that Grandmother is strict and Da Bomu manages the household well. The servants dare not treat people differently based on status, so even an illegitimate child like me doesn’t need to strive for favor just for food and clothing. Since that’s the case, why shouldn’t I enjoy these rare days to the fullest?
Take Seventh Sister, for example. She desperately loves butter cakes, yet she stubbornly restrains herself from eating them, letting her sorrowful saliva flow back into her stomach. Watching me take one small bite after another, her eyes nearly shot flames, her face turned ashen, and her nostrils flared like a hungry frog.
To reiterate: Why put oneself through such misery? After marriage, one might not even have the chance to eat such treats anymore.
Concubine couldn’t win the argument and dismissed my reasoning as sophistry. I continued to do as I pleased. Seeing that I wouldn’t be taught, she poured all her passion into the great endeavor of currying favor with Father to bear him a son.
When I was ten, Grandfather’s old friend, the Duke of Qi, finally concluded over a decade of provincial postings and returned to the capital by imperial decree to serve as a minister in one of the Six Boards. He and Grandfather had been friends since childhood—classmates, examination peers, and colleagues—bound as closely as brothers.
That Lantern Festival, since the Duke’s sons, grandsons, and daughters-in-law had not yet returned from the provinces, the old Duke came to our estate to celebrate the festival with our family. Grandfather summoned all the children and grandchildren to kowtow and pay respects to the old Duke.
As usual, I was dressed in a festive bright red jacket, bundled up like a sticky rice dumpling. Around my neck was the gold locket all the sisters had, and my hair was styled into two round, chubby buns, simply wrapped with red coral beads—Concubine wasn’t unwilling to style my hair into a more elaborate updo or adorn it with hairpins, but my plump, round face simply didn’t suit them, so she had to give up.Watching Seventh Sister in her exquisite peach-red belted gown embroidered with scattered golden floral patterns, a delicate pearl hairpin gracefully dangling by her temple, looking as lovely as a lark, Concubine glanced at me and nearly burst into tears of frustration.
After squeezing among my siblings to pay respects to the Duke of Qi, I began to feel drowsy while our grandfather and the elderly duke were quizzing our cousins on their studies. Slowly and discreetly, I shifted toward an inconspicuous corner.
"That plump girl in the bright red dress, come here and let me have a look at you."
The voice was aged yet clear, like a fresh breeze cutting through the stifling air of the room. All eyes turned toward me. I jolted awake instantly and was nudged forward.
Timidly, I lifted my head, first glancing at Grandfather—his expression was complex, frowning thoughtfully at his friend beside him. The elderly Duke of Qi, however, was exceedingly kind. Patting my chubby hand, he asked me one question after another: how old I was, what books I read, what foods I liked. When he learned I was the sixth-born daughter, he grew especially delighted, exclaiming repeatedly, "Excellent! Six signifies smooth success in all things, splendid!"
What was so splendid about it? With so many girls in the family, we hadn't been given proper names and were merely called "Fifth Maid" or "Seventh Maid" according to birth order. My playful second cousin, noticing my mild temper and how rarely I took offense, had teasingly dubbed me "Little Sixth."
I was the classic "bully at home, coward outside." Except when lecturing Concubine, I was rather inarticulate in public. I answered the elderly duke's questions woodenly, one by one, yet he treated me with immense patience, smiling as he listened to my halting, foolish chatter. Fifth Cousin nearby nearly popped her eyes out—after all, she was the family's cleverest, most eloquent, and most endearing girl!
Before leaving, the elderly duke fished out a palm-sized mutton-fat jade pendant for me. The jade was translucent, pure and warm to the touch. Though I couldn't discern its value, the sharp intake of breath from Third Aunt beside me suggested it was quite precious.
After that day, Third Cousin made several caustic remarks about me, saying things like "the ugly one puts on airs" and "such a fat fool, she's utterly shamed the Sheng family." Even usually amiable Fourth Cousin began ignoring me. As for Fifth Cousin, she deliberately befriended Seventh Sister and often made indirect, cutting remarks. I felt deeply hurt—I hadn't done anything wrong, or more accurately, I'd done nothing at all, yet I was being treated unfairly.
Concubine was overjoyed, repeatedly praising the elderly Duke of Qi for "recognizing a pearl." Just half a day earlier, she'd thought I was a "pig," but now I'd become a "pearl." Power and wealth truly could change anything.
When Concubine asked me what the elderly duke looked like, I couldn't answer. At the time, I'd been too frightened, worried about behaving improperly and being scolded. Recalling it later—the Duke of Qi was around Grandfather's age, also fair-skinned with a long beard, lean yet imposing.
But they weren't entirely alike. Grandfather was consistently stern and unsmiling, with sharp, severe eyes, whereas the elderly duke carried an air of grace. When he smiled, his amused eyes would lift slightly, like a refreshing breeze flowing along a riverbank, cool and pleasant against the face.
I never knew an elderly man could be so handsome.
Second Uncle Gu was also exceptionally good-looking, but his temperament was entirely like Grandfather's—either silent or speaking only harsh words. What a waste of fine features! The older he grew, the more formidable he became. Even high-ranking officials of the third or fourth grade would tremble before him, and no one dared pay attention to his appearance anymore.Later, I heard from my second cousin who occasionally returned to her maiden home that the old Duke of Qi was once the most handsome man in the capital, and to this day, no one could surpass him—her tone was filled with such regret, as if lamenting that she was born decades too late to witness the grace of this peerless gentleman.
The sisters in the room giggled softly, which greatly displeased my second cousin's husband. He strode through the screen and promptly whisked his wife away, taking her home overnight.
Afterward, while both serving as officials in the capital, the old Duke of Qi would often visit our estate to play chess and discuss poetry with my grandfather. Every time he came, he made sure to see me, and every time he saw me, he gave me a gift—a red rhinoceros horn brush handle from Lingnan, a thumb-sized pearl from Hainan, a Ziyun inkstone crafted by Fan Dacheng, a large eastern pearl from the snowy mountains beyond the frontier... even my father rarely saw such fine treasures.
My concubine mother’s eyes widened in astonishment, while Concubine Qiu and her daughter across the courtyard watched with envy. The most favored Concubine Li narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
"They say the Qi family’s wealth is beyond words, and it seems true," my father remarked. "The old Duke has no daughters or granddaughters, so he probably treats our sixth girl as one."
A tree that stands out in the forest is bound to be attacked.
When I jumped rope peacefully, I would trip and fall heavily. As my third cousin helped me up, she would pinch my arm hard. If I cried out in pain, she would feign surprise and say, "Oh dear, you fell so badly!"
When I walked calmly by the pond, I would "accidentally" tumble into the water. Fortunately, the pond wasn’t deep, but I still soaked half my skirt and caught a cold that left me bedridden for six or seven days. My seventh cousin leaned against the opposite gate, smiling sweetly.
When I relaxed in the pavilion, a familiar slingshot would emerge from the grass, and half-wet mud pellets struck me with stinging pain. My ninth cousin and fifth cousin were full siblings and had always been close.
In the girls' school, my fourth cousin’s seat was next to mine. Several times, I saw my fifth cousin signaling to her. Fourth cousin bit her lip, glancing at fifth cousin and then at me. She lifted the inkstone, then set it down again, sighed softly, and lowered her head to focus on composing a new poem in regulated verse.
My second uncle was devoted to his studies and held a lower official rank than my third uncle. I was grateful to fourth cousin.
I secretly wrapped the Ziyun inkstone and sent it to her, but the next day, the package was returned untouched. Along with it was a small jar of ointment for bruises.
A long, long time later, fourth cousin was betrothed as the lateral consort to the Third Prince. Several years after that, the prince’s frail primary consort passed away, and fourth cousin, who had already borne him many children, was elevated to the position of primary consort.
How wonderful.
After tending to my bruises, I carefully packed away all the treasures the old Duke had given me, locked them securely, and earnestly told my concubine mother, "If I marry poorly in the future and cannot take care of you, use these to exchange for silver to support yourself in old age."
Her eyes reddened, and she held me, weeping for a long time.
No one enjoys swallowing their pride, but sometimes it’s necessary. What good would it do to make a scene? Fifth cousin was the legitimate daughter, with plenty of full brothers, and third uncle was highly regarded by grandfather. Squabbles among sisters could be trivial or serious—it was better not to invite trouble.
Only once, when the pond’s water was clear enough to reflect my face, I saw a large bruise on my cheek from the slingshot. I hid in the rockery, covering my face, crouching and sobbing for a long time. Large teardrops fell into the soil, forming a small, damp patch—Little Ninth had done it on purpose; his slingshot had always been deadly accurate.What to do, what to do—I can’t hide it anymore. I can’t let Concubine see this. She’ll go complain to Father, but Father wouldn’t dare argue with Third Uncle. For the past six months, Great-Grandmother has been so ill she’s lost her senses. No one will stand up for Concubine and me. Even if Fifth Cousin and Ninth Cousin get punished, it won’t do Concubine or me any good.
I gritted my teeth against the pain and desperately rubbed my face, trying to erase the bruise. But my stinging eyes wouldn’t obey, and my heart swelled with bitterness. I could only cry and cry... In the end, I came up with a clumsy plan: I deliberately tripped again on the rockery, hitting my forehead hard enough to break the skin, just to fool Concubine.
"You thoughtless child! How will you ever marry with your face ruined like this!" Concubine’s shriek was, as always, full of vigor.
However, evil begets evil. Not long after, Grandfather, likely seeing that Little Nine's constant mischief was beyond remedy, decided to send him to Songshan Academy to be educated by a close friend. Third Aunt, watching her beloved youngest son depart, wept until her eyes were swollen, yet dared not utter a single word of protest.
Fifth Cousin, perhaps overwhelmed by grief, fell gravely ill after her younger brother's departure and was even unable to attend the girls' school. Grandmother, feeling distressed for her, moved her into her own quarters to care for her personally. It took a full half-year before Fifth Cousin recovered and emerged from her illness.
After her serious illness, Fifth Cousin never bullied me again. No matter how Seventh Sister tried to flatter or incite her, she remained cold and indifferent.
Not long after, my great-grandmother passed away, and Grandfather began his period of mourning. His interactions with Old Duke Qi became more frequent. Nine months later, I turned thirteen, and my father, as a grandson, concluded his mourning period. Suddenly, the Qi family came to propose marriage—Old Duke intended for his second grandson to marry me.
Grandfather calmly agreed.
However, the rest of the household was anything but calm.
This event struck like a bolt from the blue, shocking everyone except my grandparents. All eyes turned to me with astonishment.
Comparing family status: though Old Duke Qi was not as influential in court as Grandfather, the difference was slight. Moreover, the Qi family held a hereditary noble title, giving them an overall advantage.
Comparing wealth: Old Duke's mother, Princess Pingning, had bestowed nearly half the fortune of the Marquis of Xiangyang upon her son. Old Duke's father had served as Salt Commissioner for over a decade, and Old Duke himself had held provincial posts for many years—this not even accounting for the accumulated wealth of the ducal household over generations.
While the Sheng family was prosperous, it paled in comparison. Additionally, the Sheng family had numerous descendants, whereas Old Duke had only two sons and three grandsons, ensuring ample inheritance for each.
Comparing character: The prospective groom, merely sixteen, had already earned the xiucai degree. His father was Old Duke's second son, currently holding a high-ranking official position, while my father...
There was no need to continue the comparison. Such an esteemed young nobleman would only be a suitable match for Fifth Cousin, the legitimate daughter of Third Uncle, or Fourth Cousin, the legitimate daughter of Second Uncle—not even Third Cousin, the illegitimate daughter of Eldest Uncle, was more qualified than I.
Amid the stunned disbelief of the Sheng household, the betrothal preparations, overseen by Grandmother and Da Bomu, proceeded methodically.
From then on, my life took a bizarre turn.
I couldn't guess what my cousins truly thought, but outwardly they remained elegant and courteous. My aunts remained bewildered, unable to comprehend the match. My grandparents maintained an inscrutable demeanor, and no one dared question them. Everyone put on a cheerful facade, offering congratulations to my legal mother (fortunately, Eighth Sister was already betrothed, or I wouldn't have dared face my legal mother's expression).
This was the approach of the wise. The foolish, however, were far more dramatic. Seventh Sister's gaze toward me was as if she wished to devour me alive—had her looks been daggers, I would have been pierced through countless times.
One month before my formal betrothal ceremony, the decades-long rivalry between my Concubine and Concubine Qiu finally reached a conclusion. Distracted by my recent engagement, my Concubine had neglected her efforts to curry favor with my father, allowing Concubine Qiu to gain the upper hand and give birth to a son first.My father, old tree blossoming anew, doted on his newborn son with immense joy. Seizing his elated mood, Concubine Qiu proposed a fanciful suggestion—for the young boy’s future security, his elder sister must secure a good marriage. "Since Old Duke Qi did not disdain Sixth Girl’s status," she argued, "he surely wouldn’t mind Seventh Girl either. Why not speak to Grandfather and transfer this betrothal to Seventh Girl?"
—It must be said, Concubine Qiu and my own mother were evenly matched in cunning, no wonder they had tangled for over a decade.
My father, utterly intoxicated by delight, actually chuckled and went to propose this to Grandfather—only to meet immediate, tragic misfortune.
With my late Great-Grandmother no longer there to intervene, Grandfather vented his fury by ruthlessly enforcing the family law upon my father. He was confined to his kang for nearly a month, barely able to stand for my betrothal ceremony, where Uncle merely supported him for a token appearance.
"Do you think Old Duke Qi favored you or would ever accept your daughter as his granddaughter-in-law?! Look at yourself in the mirror—I’m mortified on your behalf!"
These were Grandfather’s roared words during the beating, though they were truly meant for my six uncles and aunts as well.
The marriage arrangement was peculiar from the start. My three aunts, all shrewd women, would never act recklessly. Only my hapless father and the even more unfortunate Concubine Qiu could be so foolish.
After Great-Grandmother’s passing, Grandfather, observing mourning at home with ample idle time, had long intended to discipline my father. Yet Father remained oblivious, walking right into the trap—truly asking for a beating.
Originally, Grandfather’s plan was to assign Father to a remote backwater as a clerk, tempering his frivolous habits. He didn’t expect grand achievements, only that Father wouldn’t squander the family fortune. But this incident revealed a depth of stupidity beyond Grandfather’s expectations, leading to an upgraded punishment: once recovered, Father was to be sent to a minor city in the northwestern deserts as an auxiliary instructor.
My father’s legs gave way in terror. Weeping and begging, he was escorted onto a carriage. Before his departure, my stepmother, in high spirits, gathered all his concubines and asked, "The master will be away for years and shouldn’t lack attendance. Is anyone willing to accompany him?"
Silence fell for a moment before the women uniformly stepped back—except for Concubine Li, Father’s usual favorite, who was suddenly pushed forward, stumbling into prominence.
Stepmother clapped cheerfully, "Excellent! I knew the master’s affection for you wasn’t in vain. Servants, pack Concubine Li’s belongings! And bring Tenth Brother to my quarters—gently, don’t startle the child."
Concubine Li collapsed to the ground, face pale with dread.
Days after Father’s departure, Concubine Qiu vanished without a trace—Grandfather detested concubines meddling in their children’s marriages. Some claimed she was sold off; others whispered she was drowned. The newborn Twelfth Brother was likewise placed in Stepmother’s care. Thus, all three of Father’s sons—one legitimate and two by concubines—were now under Stepmother’s control.
My mother trembled for half a day before telling me, "The Lady truly isn’t one to be trifled with."
"Do you still wish for a son?" I asked.
She sighed, "Let it be. Sometimes retreat brings broader horizons."
To be fair, Stepmother wasn’t entirely unkind. When Seventh Sister approached twenty, Stepmother indeed presented three marital options: a promising but impoverished scholar, a widowed gentryman from a prominent clan, and a wealthy Jiangnan textile merchant.
It’s said Seventh Sister ultimately left the decision to dice—and chose the Jiangnan merchant.In the second year after my coming-of-age ceremony, I shot up in height, shedding all my childhood plumpness to become a charming and lovely young maiden—Concubine breathed a sigh of relief. A few months later, Grandfather was reinstated to his official post, and the Qi and Sheng families quietly held our wedding ceremony.
When the bright red bridal veil was lifted, I saw my new husband—a handsome yet stern-looking youth. After we drank the nuptial wine, he sat rigidly by the bedside without moving. I thought he might dislike me for being unworthy of him.
Watching the dragon-and-phoenix candles weep like bleeding tears, I felt wronged and wanted to cry. This marriage wasn’t something I had begged for—I had been fully prepared to become either a wealthy merchant’s wife or a scholar’s lady. If he didn’t like me, why did he obediently go through with the wedding?
I whispered, "...Do... do you not like me?"
My husband stiffly turned his neck and nodded out of habit. Immediately, tears poured from my eyes like torrential rain. He panicked, frantically shaking his head then nodding: "No, no! I meant I like you, not that I don’t..."
I broke into laughter through my tears.
Later, my husband told me that before our wedding, the Old Duke had threatened his grandson to treat me well—or else face consequences. He had been sitting so rigidly because he was terribly nervous, racking his brains about how to satisfy the Old Duke.
That night, he worked very hard to "treat me well."
My husband was a dignified and steady man who didn’t know how to enjoy marital intimacies, much less how to please a girl. Yet I particularly enjoyed mischievously teasing him, and we complemented each other perfectly. As time passed, he increasingly maintained solemnity in public but played joyfully with me in private.
My father-in-law might not have been entirely satisfied with this marriage either, but he still treated me with propriety. My husband’s grandmother had long passed away, leaving my mother-in-law as the only trouble. She clearly disliked me, but with only one son and one daughter-in-law, she had no other daughter-in-law to favor. Beyond enforcing formal etiquette, she had no other means to discipline me.
After entering the Qi residence, I learned the Old Duke had established a peculiar rule: mothers-in-law were forbidden from interfering in their daughters-in-law’s affairs. Specifically, they couldn’t force concubines into their sons’ chambers—decisions about taking concubines were solely for the young couples themselves.
Years earlier, when the Eldest Sister-in-law first married in, the senior madam had tried to intimidate her, only to be publicly humiliated by the Old Duke before the entire household. Since my mother-in-law came from a less prestigious background than the Eldest Sister-in-law, she dared not cause trouble.
Under this remarkable family rule, I smoothly gave birth to our eldest son, second son, eldest daughter, and third son.
As grandchildren gathered around her knees and the household grew livelier each day, even my mother-in-law’s dislike gradually softened. With one child in her left arm, another in her right, one sitting in her lap, and yet another clinging to her neck, she could no longer maintain a cold expression toward me.
Especially since the eldest branch had few heirs—the children I bore alone outnumbered those of the Eldest Sister-in-law and third sister-in-law combined—my mother-in-law gained increasing confidence when facing the Eldest Sister-in-law, her face glowing with pride daily.
That year, when my mother-in-law caught a severe chill and remained bedridden for a long time, I slept right by her bedside, serving her medicine daily, bathing her, changing her clothes, feeding her, combing her hair, and even assisting with her toilet needs—for two full months. She recovered, but I grew noticeably thinner. Fortunately, my robust childhood constitution kept me from collapsing.
Even a heart of stone warms when tended long enough. Finally, my mother-in-law dropped her icy demeanor, took my hand, and said, "You are a good child. In the past... I wronged you. I always thought... thought you weren’t good enough for my son..."Her eyes rimmed red, she continued, "Now I see I was too hasty. The Old Duke truly has an eye for talent – he chose an excellent granddaughter-in-law in you."
Once her defenses were lowered, my mother-in-law began treating me with genuine sincerity, regarding me as her own daughter. Even my husband pretended to feel jealous when he saw this.
I heard that both daughters-in-law of the Qi family were personally selected by the Old Duke. Thinking about it, how could such an astute and formidable man choose truly wicked women as his daughters-in-law?
"Your father-in-law has had quite a difficult life," my mother-in-law sighed, pulling me into conversation.
They say handsome men bring misfortune to their wives – this saying fit the Old Duke perfectly.
The Old Duke married three times in his life. His first wife was County Princess Jiacheng, who died under disgraceful circumstances shortly after their wedding during the 'Shenchen Rebellion'. His second wife was the legitimate daughter of the prominent Shen clan from Jinnan, whose family had produced numerous high officials. She bore him twins, but unfortunately, when she accompanied the Old Duke to his post in Minnan that year, an epidemic broke out, and all three perished. His third wife was the legitimate granddaughter of Princess Qingning. Shortly after their marriage, the couple inherited the ducal title. The new lady gave birth to two sons before passing away, not yet thirty.
The following year, Princess Pingning and her husband also passed away. After that, the Old Duke never remarried, keeping only two elderly concubines to attend to his daily needs while personally raising his two sons.
"That's why both your uncle and your husband respect and revere your father-in-law immensely, never daring to disobey him in the slightest. He truly has had a difficult life – managing both internal and external affairs, playing both father and mother," my mother-in-law lamented.
"Actually, while I was still in my maiden home, I heard people say that when your father-in-law was assigned to Minnan that year, everyone advised Lady Shen not to accompany him. Never mind the miasmic heat and humidity there – northerners often struggle to adapt – but both children were still so young... Ah, who would have thought that Lady Shen insisted on following him, refusing to be separated from your father-in-law even for a moment. Later, when tragedy struck, the Shen family had little grounds for complaint..."
"Oh, probably because she and Grandfather were deeply devoted to each other," I said. Though I wasn't particularly interested in gossip, my mother-in-law clearly was, so I enthusiastically played along.
My mother-in-law shook her head mysteriously: "I'm not so sure about that."
I felt deeply grateful to the Old Duke. Without his kindness and generosity, how could I enjoy such happiness today? I was determined to devote myself to filial piety toward him, yet I didn't know how to begin.
The Old Duke's daily life was extremely simple and austere. He often enjoyed fishing by the pond, sitting for hours on end, completely indifferent to whether he caught anything. In his leisure time, he either read books or listened to my little maid reading aloud.
He had his young great-granddaughter read from the "Minor Odes" section of the Classic of Poetry, read "The Peach Blossom Spring", and read the travel writings written by my Fourth Maternal Uncle from the Gu family. The little girl would sit cross-legged on the kang, swaying her head as she read, her childish voice clear and melodious, echoing through the bright, elegant study.
The old gentleman sat by the distant window, leaning his head on his hand as he looked over, smiling faintly with a kind and benevolent expression. Yet in his eyes lingered a very faint, very subtle melancholy – so faint it was like a thin veil shrouded in mist, both distant and near.
He always seemed to wear this expression – gentle and amiable, treating everyone with the warmth of a spring breeze. Even my own grandfather had several political enemies, yet the Old Duke seemed to be praised by everyone.
Only once did I see his expression change.That year, the third younger brother, who bore the closest resemblance to the old duke, was due to marry, yet complications arose.
Da Bomu had arranged a match for him with a young lady from the Han family, but the third brother was unwilling. His heart belonged to a young lady of the Qiu family, though unfortunately, the Qiu family was of humble origins and offered him no advantage whatsoever.
The matter was brought before the old duke. "Let him decide for himself," the elderly man said with a dismissive tone.
In the days that followed, Da Bomu repeatedly pleaded and wept before the third brother. I could largely guess what she said.
Eldest Uncle was frail, and even the eldest brother was in poor health, with no sons to date. The eldest branch of the family had only the third brother to rely on.
Meanwhile, our second branch—both father and son—were not only in the prime of life but also thriving in their official careers, with smooth and successful paths. Moreover, they were blessed with numerous descendants. Should anything happen in the future... after all, the old duke himself had originally been a son of the second branch.
In the end, the third brother was persuaded. With a dejected expression, he went before the old duke and said in person, "I am willing to marry the young lady of the Han family."
The old duke showed no emotion on his face and smiled faintly. "Good. Your grandfather will send someone to propose on your behalf."
As everyone filed out, I lingered behind to carry away the little girl who had fallen asleep in the next room. Just before stepping out, I clearly heard a low, bitter chuckle and an extremely soft sigh—"It's like this again... still the same..."
I quickly turned to look and saw the old duke holding a scroll by the window, yet his eyes were fixed on the scenery outside. His usually calm face suddenly revealed a trace of sorrow, as if he had lost something beautiful that could never be reclaimed.
Many years later, even my eldest son was of marriageable age. By then, four grandaunts, two granduncles, and my grandmother had all passed away, and finally, my grandfather also departed.
The pillar of the Sheng family had collapsed. The old duke stood in the mourning hall for a long, long time, his expression lonely, yet without visible grief, as if he were mourning not a close friend, but the youth of his earliest days.
Due to Grandfather's outstanding achievements, the emperor ordered two princes to escort the coffin to the funeral—a truly exceptional honor.
The grand funeral exhausted the entire family. I returned to my maternal home to visit my ailing birth mother, but as usual, we had little to say to each other.
Just as I was about to take my leave, my birth mother suddenly spoke: "Did you know? Actually, that year during the Lantern Festival, the old Duke Qi wanted to engage you as his granddaughter-in-law as soon as he saw you. But the old master refused, saying that if the girl turned out poorly, it would harm his dear friend's family. In the years that followed, the old master observed you in secret and, convinced of your honest and sincere nature, finally consented to the marriage."
I was startled.
On my way home, for the first time, I seriously pondered this question.
Why had the old duke been so fond of me back then? I had some vague understanding, yet some parts remained unclear, leaving me utterly perplexed. Well, if I couldn't figure it out, I might as well stop thinking about it. Overthinking tends to ruin one's appetite.
After his close friend passed away, the old duke gradually aged. By the end of the following year, the imperial physician bluntly stated, "Prepare for the funeral arrangements."
Both Eldest Uncle and Father-in-law were deeply grieved, unable to hold back their sobs. No matter the conflicts between the brothers, their reverence and love for their elderly father were genuine and profound.
"Elder Brother and I have agreed that after Father... passes away..." Father-in-law struggled to continue, addressing Mother-in-law, "we will divide the household. It's time for our son to go out and gain experience. I've secured him an external posting, and his wife will accompany him. We will remain in the capital to care for our grandchildren."Mother-in-law had also aged, growing kinder with each passing day. She showed not a hint of displeasure at the words and replied gently, "That's wonderful. I'll speak with Eldest Sister-in-law so we can live closer and look out for one another."
I understood. Father-in-law and Mother-in-law had completely given up—relinquishing the ducal title in exchange for family harmony and fraternal unity.
My husband led me slowly back to our room, his voice soft as he said, "You've worked hard all these years. The household rules were strict, and affairs were complex. Once we move out, we can go for spring outings, boating on the lake..."
He pressed his lips to my ear, whispering warmly, "And we could add another little monkey to the family."
My face grew hot, and I laughed softly, chiding him, "You rascal."
By the old duke's sickbed, the eldest uncle and Father-in-law together shared their decision with their father.
The old duke understood the meaning behind it and nodded weakly with a faint smile. "...Good... It's good that you brothers have found peace with this..."
The old man's arm slowly slipped down the bedside—once slender and elegant, now frail and aged.
Apart from the ancestral estate, meritorious farmlands, and sacrificial fields of the ducal household, the remaining family assets were divided equally. The two elderly concubines were also provided for, and no one raised any objections throughout the process.
After the funeral, Concubine Ding approached me holding a small box, her smile tinged with sorrow. "The old duke instructed me to give this to you, Second Young Madam. It's nothing of great value, just a keepsake."
She paused, then added tearfully, unable to help herself, "The old duke had sent this out once before, but unfortunately, it was returned." Realizing she had spoken out of turn, she quickly excused herself and withdrew.
It was a small wooden box with an antique bronze lock and exquisite mother-of-pearl inlay, crafted from precious sandalwood that still gleamed brightly and emitted a faint fragrance even after more than sixty years.
I opened it slowly to find a pair of clay dolls.
I was no stranger to such items—clay dolls from Wuxi, known as "Da Afu." I had owned a few as a child, though none were as finely made as these two, their attire and appearance seemingly custom-crafted.
One was a boy doll, the other a girl doll, both dressed in festive red robes, chubby and endearingly naive. Sadly, with the passage of time, the once-vibrant glazes had mostly faded, and their features and forms were blurred, as if they had often been held and gently rubbed in someone's palm. As I turned them over, I noticed faint writing on their bases: on the girl doll, "Little Six," and on the boy doll, "Little Two."
The ink had faded to a pale gray, likely written decades ago, yet the handwriting remained discernibly elegant and delicate.
A dull ache stirred in my heart as I wondered whether the person who originally received these clay dolls had ever seen these four characters.
I placed the dolls back into the box and quietly walked to the study. Wrapping my arms around my husband from behind, I rested my cheek against the nape of his neck. He set aside the documents in his hand, drew me into his lap, and asked with a smile, "What is it? Are you thinking about our little monkey again?"
I gazed at him for a long moment before suddenly saying, "Hey, Little Two Qi."
My husband was taken aback, then chuckled. "There you go, being mischievous again."
It was a playful nickname from their newlywed days. Amused, he tapped his wife's upturned nose and teased, "Hey, Little Six Sheng."
A wave of sorrow washed over me, tears welling in my eyes. I held him tightly and whispered in response, "Mm."
Little Two Qi and Little Six Sheng—together, forever and always, in this lifetime.
※※※
[End]This story begins with a Liu Guniang and ends with a Liu Guniang—in the end, both found happiness.
All emotional entanglements started one afternoon when a young man of the Qi family lifted the curtain and entered, and ended with this young man’s passing. Whether he found happiness in the end, no one knows.
Our nostalgia begins with the rise of a family and ends when its flowers bloom to their fullest, only to fade.
Flowers bloom and fall, in an endless cycle.
So it is with our nation, our bloodline, and our civilization.
I wish to depict a prosperous golden age, with wise rulers, resolute generals, cunning opportunists, and master strategists whose calculations never fail. There will be bloodshed and tragedy, but also a glorious future.
I wish to portray a family on the rise, with thoughtful patriarchs, upright sons, daughters both fierce and enchanting. There will be tears and wounds, but ultimately a hard-won reunion where bitterness gives way to sweetness.
All the main characters who appeared in the main text of The Story of Minglan—whether they wept, laughed, rejoiced, or grieved; whether they were powerful or humble, kind or malicious, successful or defeated—their stories have now concluded.
From this point onward, I will write no more stories about them.
Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.
This has been an unforgettable journey. I'm glad to have met you all. Writing this, I feel tears welling up.
4:00 AM.
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