Comrade Sheng Hong, newly appointed to his post and embracing the fresh atmosphere of his new term, was determined to build the exemplary image of the leading family in Dengzhou. He aimed to set a model of paternal kindness, filial piety, and familial harmony for the common people of the entire prefecture, contributing to the establishment of a well-mannered feudal society in the new Dengzhou. Thus, after completing the handover of his duties, he chose a fine, sunny morning to lead Madam Wang, their three sons, four daughters, and several maids and elderly servants in a grand procession to pay respects to Old Mrs. Sheng.
Upon entering the main hall of Longevity and Peace Hall, Sheng Hong and Madam Wang paid their respects to Old Mrs. Sheng and took their seats on square chairs flanking the luohan bed. The servants then led the children to bow in order: first the three legitimate children, followed by the four illegitimate ones—no concubines were present.
Minglan, formerly known as Yao Yiyi, had woken up groggy that morning and hadn’t even eaten breakfast before being carried out of her room. Led by a maid of about fourteen or fifteen, she performed the ritual bows. As the second youngest, by the time it was her turn to kowtow, she had somewhat woken up. The moment her head touched the ground, she became fully alert and stammered, "Greetings to the Old Ancestor."
Having not spoken for a long time and fearful of misspeaking, Minglan’s voice came out weak and hesitant, immediately drawing soft, mocking laughter. Minglan turned to look and saw young Rulan covering her mouth lightly. Beside her stood a delicate, pretty girl who seemed slightly older—likely Fourth Miss Molan. Adorned with a pair of kingfisher-feather-decorated white jade earrings and dressed in a lake-green fine-patterned gauze robe, she stood with proper posture, head slightly bowed, exuding grace and reverence.
Sheng Hong frowned slightly and glanced at Madam Wang, who immediately shot a stern look at the matron beside Rulan. The matron lowered her head in fear.
Observing Rulan and Molan, Old Mrs. Sheng sighed inwardly. Then, turning her gaze to the dazed Minglan, who stood foolishly in the center, unaware she was being laughed at and looking utterly bewildered, she calmly took a sip of tea, her eyes downcast. After the youngest, Sheng Changdong, had finished his bows, she said, "I am accustomed to peace and quiet and dislike crowds and noise. We are all family—there’s no need for such formality. Let’s stick to the usual routine: just pay respects every ten days."
Madam Wang’s cheeks flushed pink, likely from a good night’s sleep. "What are you saying, Old Madam? It is our duty as juniors to show filial piety to you. In the past few years, I was ignorant and neglected my duties. After being reprimanded by my husband the other day, I have realized my mistake. I beg Old Madam, in light of my foolishness, not to hold it against me. I apologize to you here."
With that, she stood and knelt before Old Mrs. Sheng. Old Mrs. Sheng glanced at Sheng Hong, who promptly added, "Mother, it is her duty not only to pay morning and evening respects but also to serve you tea and water at all times. If you refuse, I can only assume you are still angry with her. The fault lies with me for failing to manage the household strictly. I should go before Father’s spirit and accept punishment."
Saying this, he also knelt before Old Mrs. Sheng. Madam Wang dabbed her face with a handkerchief, her eyes reddening as she said, "Mother, I truly know my error. When I was in my maiden home, I learned that filial piety is the foremost virtue. Yet after entering the Sheng family, I became blinded and stubborn, neglecting my duties to you. Please punish me as you see fit, but do not take it to heart. If you fear the noise of too many people, we can take turns paying our respects in the future."As she spoke in a low, sobbing voice, Sheng Hong's eyes also reddened.
Standing at the far left position, Minglan looked ahead and secretly thought: Had this couple rehearsed overnight? Their coordinated performance was flawless—tearing up on cue. Her skeptical gaze drifted toward their sleeves. Could it be onions? Just as she was pondering, the three boys opposite and the girls on this side had already knelt down in unison, earnestly pleading with Old Mrs. Sheng. Their words were so sincere it seemed they would die of heartbreak if Old Mrs. Sheng refused their morning greetings. Little Rulan was a beat slower and was nudged by the matron behind her to kneel. Seeing this, Minglan belatedly followed suit, though she wasn't sure what to say.
Witnessing this, Old Mrs. Sheng let out a long sigh and ceased her insistence. Waving her hand, she instructed the maids to help Sheng Hong and his wife up: "Since it's like this, let it be as you wish." As she spoke, she glanced at the dazed Minglan—the frail little girl was once again the last to stand up on her own.
Sheng Changdong was too young to stand steadily. After kowtowing, he was carried away by a nursemaid, and the remaining people took their seats in turn.
Minglan had never quite understood what "morning greetings" entailed. Literally, it should just be asking Old Mrs. Sheng "how are you," perhaps with an added "will you die" or "are you ill." But after watching the young maids bring round stools for each young master and lady, Minglan realized she needed to adjust her perspective.
Morning greetings were an important activity in ancient inner households. The managing daughter-in-law would report recent work to her mother-in-law or seek approval for future plans. If children were raised by the mother-in-law, this was a chance to glimpse one's own offspring, lest they later fail to recognize which child came from which womb. If children were raised by one's side, they were presented to the grandparents for some family bonding or casual chatter to delight the elders.
Unfortunately, Madam Wang hadn't performed this duty in a long time. Her tone couldn't decide between familiarity and formality, and she struggled to gauge what to discuss with Old Mrs. Sheng. Thus, Sheng Hong had specially accompanied her today—not only to mediate but also to break the ice first.
"Mother, have you been comfortable these days? The weather in Dengzhou isn't as warm and humid as in Quanzhou," Sheng Hong said.
"It's a bit cooler, but it's fine," Old Mrs. Sheng replied.
"I actually find Dengzhou better than Quanzhou—grand mountains and rivers, open and vast. Being near the sea, the climate isn't dry either. I told my husband he's landed a good post—neither too cold nor too arid," Madam Wang said with a smile.
"This old woman has no complaints, but how are the little ones? Any discomfort?" Old Mrs. Sheng asked, her eyes sweeping over the rows of grandchildren on both sides.
Madam Wang's eager gaze immediately fell upon Sheng Changbai. Brother Changbai stood up properly, slightly bowed, and said: "Replying to Old Madam: This grandson finds it very good."
Twelve words—concise and to the point. Then he sat down.Old Mrs. Sheng set down her teacup and glanced at Sheng Hong and Madam Wang before turning her attention to the remaining children. Sheng Hong showed no reaction, while Madam Wang appeared somewhat awkward, secretly glaring at her son.
The second to speak was Sheng Changfeng, who bore a striking resemblance to his younger sister Molan. With a plump, fair face adorned by a humble smile, he spoke in a clear voice: "Quanzhou is gentle and mild, while Dengzhou is grand and imposing—each place has its merits. How could any part of our dynasty's territory be less than splendid? Recently, I read Du Fu's poem: 'What shall I say of the great peak? / The ancient dukedoms are everywhere green, / Inspired and stirred by the breath of creation, / With the Twin Forces balancing day and night.' Shandong has produced sages and boasts Mount Tai—truly a remarkable place. When you feel inclined, revered grandmother, we could visit that sacred mountain of imperial ceremonies."
His words flowed eloquently, each syllable distinct, earning repeated nods and satisfied glances from Sheng Hong. Even Old Mrs. Sheng couldn't help but look at him twice, remarking, "Feng Ge'er is quite learned. I've heard his studies are exceptional, with his poetry and essays frequently praised by his tutors."
The atmosphere in Longevity and Peace Hall grew harmonious. Sheng Hong was particularly pleased, and the younger children relaxed—all except Madam Wang, whose smile seemed forced. Minglan secretly observed her fiercely twisting a handkerchief, as if wishing she could throttle Sheng Changbai into speaking more.
Hualan glanced at Madam Wang before turning to the seat of honor with a coquettish complaint: "Grandmother only praises Third Brother—does that mean you look down on us girls?"
Old Mrs. Sheng smiled warmly. "What nonsense, child. When you were young, your father personally taught you reading and writing, and we even hired a tutor specially for you. Who would dare look down on our eldest young lady? Our Hualan has grown older but become even more mischievous."
Sheng Hualan was born during the most fortunate period—when Madam Wang and Sheng Hong were newlyweds deeply in love, when harmony prevailed between Madam Wang and Old Mrs. Sheng, and when a younger brother soon followed. Beautiful and endearing, as the legitimate eldest daughter, she was showered with boundless affection. She had once been raised for a time under Old Mrs. Sheng's care, but Madam Wang, unable to bear the separation, brought her back. Still, among the grandchildren, she shared the closest bond with the old madam. In contrast, her full younger sister Rulan entered the world under less auspicious circumstances.
"Father taught Elder Sister? Then why hasn't he taught me? I want a tutor too!" Sure enough, Rulan jumped off her footstool and ran to tug at Sheng Hong's sleeve, pouting and acting cute."
Madam Wang pulled Rulan back to her side, scolding, "No mischief! Your father is overwhelmed with official duties now—how could he play with you? You can't even sit still through tracing exercises—what need have you for a tutor?"
Rulan refused to comply, stamping her feet and pursing her lips. As Madam Wang alternated between coaxing and reprimanding, Sheng Hong's face darkened. Old Mrs. Sheng watched with a gentle smile. Then Molan, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke: "Fifth Sister is still young, and tracing requires immense patience—naturally she finds it dull. But learning poetry and principles is beneficial. I don't think we need hire a tutor—Elder Sister is so learned, why not ask her to teach? Wouldn't that be perfect?" After speaking, she pressed her lips into a smile, appearing refined and innocent.
Seeing his daughter speak so thoughtfully and elegantly, Sheng Hong couldn't resist praising: "Mo'er speaks wisely. Girls needn't pursue imperial examinations or official careers, so there's no need to drill calligraphy rigidly. However, reading poetry and literature to cultivate one's character is hardly bad. Hua'er, when you have time, it would be good to teach Ru'er. As the eldest sister, you ought to instruct your younger siblings."Madam Wang wore a look of disdain and paid no heed, while Hualan showed a trace of contempt. Old Mrs. Sheng, however, was watching the only silent one, Sheng Minglan, who was staring foolishly at Molan, and sighed inwardly once more.
After some idle chatter, Madam Wang slowly steered the conversation toward Hualan’s coming-of-age ceremony. Before she could say much, Old Mrs. Sheng instructed the maids to serve breakfast here, setting up two tables—one in the main room for the three adults, and another in the side chamber for the children to eat together.
When breakfast was brought in, it was unexpectedly simple. Even Minglan, who was not very familiar with the situation, found it rather shabby. A large porcelain plate held plain steamed buns and sesame oil rolls, accompanied by clear congee made from white rice and a few small side dishes.
Minglan looked up and saw her elder brother Changbai wearing an apologetic expression, while Changfeng and Molan picked up their chopsticks and began eating as if nothing were amiss. Hualan and Rulan, however, both pouted simultaneously, their movements varying in intensity but identical in angle.
Minglan, assisted by her maid, ate slowly as well. She recalled the breakfasts she had eaten in the main house over the past few days: lotus root honey cakes, cream pine nut rolls, fried pastries, pork floss and garlic rolls, honey-glazed sesame balls, red date congee, red rice porridge, steamed eggs with cured meat, bird’s nest steamed eggs, stir-fried beef with shredded dried tofu, sesame oil dressed smoked pork strips, and an eight-treasure box of assorted pickles with sixteen different varieties…
In wealthy households, it was customary not to speak during meals or before sleep. Moreover, the six siblings came from three different “production lines” and had barely spoken to each other before. Now, the only sounds were the gentle clinking of spoons and chopsticks.
After breakfast, Sheng Hong hurried off to his official duties, Madam Wang returned to her own courtyard, and the children were each taken away by their respective nannies. The nanny responsible for Minglan had not yet arrived at the Veranda, so Minglan hopped down from her stool and went to the doorway to look around. She didn’t dare wander too far in this unfamiliar place, but she thought it should be fine to take a stroll along the corridor outside.
Northern architecture was quite different from that of the south. The pillars were tall and spacious, the stone benches square and solid. It lacked the delicate elegance of the residence in Quanzhou but exuded a grand and open atmosphere. Minglan walked slowly along the wall, observing her surroundings. She turned several corners and passed by numerous rooms, shaking her head more and more as she went. The rooms here were spacious but sparsely furnished. Aside from essential furniture, there were no gold, jade, or antiques to be seen. Most of the maids and elderly servants were advanced in years, with only a few young girls doing the cleaning and laundry. They appeared shabbier than servants elsewhere. The courtyard had no flowers or trees, merely trimmed plainly, and the overall atmosphere was desolate, like a bleak and austere dwelling.
Minglan thought to herself: It seems the rumors are true.
This Old Mrs. Sheng of the Sheng family was born into the Yongyi Marquis household. Proud by nature, she had been aloof and disdainful in her youth, fond of stirring up trouble. It was said she had offended both her husband’s family and her natal family. After the old master of the Sheng family passed away, she was widowed and underwent a change in temperament. When Sheng Hong came of age and married, she handed over all the family assets to him without keeping anything for herself, leaving very little in private savings.
She devoted herself to Buddhist prayers and a vegetarian diet, isolating herself from the world. The entire staff of the Longevity and Peace Hall seemed to have taken vows of asceticism along with her. Their daily meals were meager, their duties offered no extra benefits, and life was austere. At one point, they even closed the main gate of the courtyard, as if completely cut off from the bustling world outside. Servants were unwilling to suffer in the Longevity and Peace Hall, so those working here were all old retainers who had followed the Old Madam as part of her dowry.Minglan concluded: It was an obscure department with poor performance, meager benefits, leadership lacking ambition, and staff devoid of motivation.
Turning another corner, Minglan suddenly caught a familiar fragrance that made her freeze. The scent seemed to emerge from the deepest recesses of her memory, from a past she had intended to forget. Following the aroma, she arrived at a doorway, pushed it open, and entered a small room. Directly opposite stood a long rosewood desk holding only a few scripture scrolls. To the left were two square stools carved with ruyi patterns, beside which stood a rosewood square table adorned with lingzhi mushroom motifs. Further inside, Minglan spotted a small shrine suspended with golden-brown embroidered gauze curtains. Below stood an incense table, upon which rested a white jade four-legged, double-eared pixiu reclining censer emitting slow tendrils of sandalwood smoke—the source of the fragrance she had detected. On either side of the incense table stood individual seats, with a meditation cushion positioned centrally below. This was evidently a private household Buddhist chapel.
Enshrined on the incense altar was a petite white jade Guanyin statue. Lifting her gaze, Minglan observed the Bodhisattva's dignified solemnity, yet her eyes radiated compassion, as if having witnessed all the suffering in the mortal world. Suddenly, Minglan's eyes welled up, and she couldn't hold back her tears. She recalled how, before she was sent to the countryside, Mother Yao had specially purchased a jade Guanyin pendant, had it blessed at a temple, and earnestly instructed her daughter to wear it for protection during her journey. At the time, Yao Yiyi had impatiently dismissed her mother's nagging, hastily boarding the vehicle. Now, she longed to hear those words again but could no longer do so.
Recalling the moments before losing consciousness, she vaguely remembered someone prying open the car door from outside—likely rescuers arriving. She wondered whether the elderly judge and her other colleagues had been saved. Had she been the only one to die in the line of duty? The thought filled her with grief and indignation. After the surge of emotion came numbness, and following numbness, apathy. She lacked any particular will to cling to life.
She felt heaven had wronged her. If death was inevitable, she should have been reborn into a better circumstances. Why should Hualan, Rulan, and even Molan be showered with affection and privilege, while she had to start life anew? She would have to familiarize herself with this unfamiliar world, curry favor with Madam Wang—who wasn't even her birth mother—and likely endure humiliation and grievances as a matter of course. She would have to learn to read people's expressions and relearn the survival skills of ancient women.
This was not a world suited for women's survival.
Long ago, while watching "Autumn in My Heart," all her friends had wept bitterly over Eun-seo's turbulent fate, but Yao Yiyi alone sympathized with Shin-ae. Under the protagonist's halo, Eun-seo appeared so virtuous and kind, while Shin-ae seemed scheming and harsh. Everyone's emotions leaned toward Eun-seo, but they all overlooked one crucial fact: Shin-ae was originally meant to be the young mistress born into that wealthy family—she belonged to that warm, comfortable household by right. Eun-seo would have naturally grown up in that filthy, wretched little shop, bullied by her brother and enduring her mother's temper.In Yao Yiyi's view, Xinai had suffered unjust treatment. Had Xinai grown up from the start in a warm environment surrounded by loving care, she might not have developed that petty and harsh temperament. Because of this unfortunate experience, even after returning to her parents later, she remained estranged from her mother, unable to be as close as biological mother and daughter should be. And who could Xinai hold accountable for this?
Seeing the male and female protagonists both die in the end, Yao Yiyi even had the malicious thought that Enxi seemed destined to go to that family to collect debts. Since she was bound to die from leukemia anyway, she not only undeservedly gained over a decade of happiness that originally wasn't hers, but also took the adoptive parents' only son along with her to the underworld. In the end, the only child left to fulfill filial duties for those adoptive parents turned out to be the perpetually unloved Xinai.
Of course Enxi was pitiable, but wasn't Xinai equally pitiable?
Now Yao Yiyi found herself in a similar situation. Her originally perfect life had been stolen, replaced by that of a pitiful girl. Had she been reborn as some pampered young lady, she might have felt guilty, but after some affected complaints, she would have eventually accepted it. Yet her current circumstances represented a regression in history.
Though her previous life hadn't included maids and servants attending to her, her existence had been free. She had already survived the gauntlet of college entrance exams and job hunting—the most difficult first hurdles of life were behind her. She had a good job and a warm family. She remembered how just two days before the mudslide, her mother had called saying there were excellent candidates waiting for her to return for matchmaking. Barring any melodramatic incidents like mistresses, terminal illnesses, or car accidents, she would have lived out her life like most ordinary women—commonplace yet fulfilling.
And now this young Minglan? Her biological mother was a concubine who had already died, probably awaiting reincarnation. Her father had three sons and four daughters, and didn't seem particularly fond of this illegitimate daughter either. There was also a legal wife who had no intention of playing the saint. The advantage was she didn't need to take exams for civil service positions or professional titles, but the disadvantage was she had no say in her future husband selection. Her entire future life would depend on luck. If she suffered domestic violence, she couldn't call the police—just apply some herbal oil and make do. If there were second, third, or even nth mistresses, she couldn't make a scene but had to 'virtuously' accept them as sisters. If her husband proved utterly wretched and unbearable, she couldn't take him to court either.
Oh, and there was worse—she might not even manage to become a legal wife herself. Illegitimate daughters had always been prime material for concubines.
How could Yao Yiyi possibly accept such a challenging life?
Yet she had no choice but to accept.
Imitating how her mother used to worship Buddha, she knelt respectfully before Guanyin, palms pressed together, sincerely praying for her mother and brother in that other world to remain safe and healthy, and not to worry about their daughter. From today onward, she would concern herself with grain and vegetables, with rivers and mountains, and strive to live earnestly.
Scalding tears welled up in large drops. She wept silently as tears streamed down her slightly thin face, some soaking into the pale blue prayer cushion and disappearing, others rolling to the ground to merge with the dust. The morning light filtered through the lotus-colored gauze window into the prayer hall, clear and bright, soft and radiant.Minglan's small body knelt upon the prayer cushion, her heart experiencing unprecedented tranquility and peace. With genuine devotion, she whispered her prayers: May the compassionate Guanyin Bodhisattva perceive the emptiness of all five aggregates, deliver all from suffering and distress. May my heart be free from attachments; being free from attachments, may it know no fear, be far from delusions and fantasies, and ultimately attain Nirvana.
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