Side Story Three: Looking Back Along the Road I Came, Green Mountains Stretch Across the Horizon. (1)

In the eighteenth year of Taihe, the Imperial Court issued a decree to select a consort for the Crown Prince.

I was basking in the sun in the courtyard when I heard the news, and the silk fan in my hand slipped and broke. I suppose I had been lost in a trance.

More than twenty years ago, I was still by my eldest sister’s side when, suddenly, we heard the news that the court was selecting a Crown Prince’s consort. At the time, we had only laughed, wondering what the affairs of Guangling had to do with us in Jiangdong.

Back then, my sister’s own engagement had recently fallen through. Little Seven and I had comforted her, saying, "You will surely meet a better man in the future. He will treat you with the utmost kindness, cherish you for a lifetime, and never let you down."

She had smiled—a smile so beautiful. My sister was the most renowned beauty in all of Jiangdong; she was enchanting in every gesture, and her every expression was exquisite. I never imagined that such grace would be cruelly broken within the deep palace, until it finally separated us by life and death.

The day my sister boarded the boat to leave Jiangdong, our entire family went to see her off, save for our elderly, ailing grandmother and Little Seven, who was visiting our maternal grandparents. I watched her figure slowly vanish into the clouds and water, until she could be seen no more.

When Little Seven returned home, she naturally threw a tantrum, insisting on going to Guangling to be by our sister’s side. I quickly chimed in, "Then I shall go too!"

Before we could finish our sentence, our father roared, "None of you are to go!" Though Little Seven was raised with indulgence, she still feared our father, and I was even more terrified.

Since we could not go to Guangling, we kept up a constant correspondence with her. She never spoke of anything unpleasant, only reporting the good and hiding the bad. Our father, too, stopped sharing news of Guangling with us.

A year later, I was married. My husband’s family lived only a few streets away from my parents’ home, so I could return for a visit every month. My mother was very satisfied with the match, and my parents-in-law and husband treated me well. Within three years, I had given birth to a son and a daughter, and I even took the initiative to choose two virtuous concubines for my husband. Everyone praised me for my virtue and grace, and I simply smiled in silence.

Little Seven married into our mother’s family clan, the Hua family of Jingzhou—a union of families already related by blood, which should have been a joyous occasion.

However, whenever I returned to my maiden home, I would hear Mother complain that Little Seven was constantly quarreling with her husband. The couple would have a minor spat every three days and a major row every five. Mother worried that their hearts would drift apart and wanted Little Seven to bear a child quickly to solidify her status in her husband’s family. But Father disagreed, saying that Little Seven was still but a child herself and that her future path should not be arranged with such haste.

Strangely enough, despite their frequent bickering, five years passed, and my seventh brother-in-law never took a single maid into his bed, let alone a concubine. In the fifth year of their marriage, Little Seven gave birth to a daughter. My brother-in-law was overjoyed and held a grand feast at the Hua estate that lasted for seven days and seven nights. Perhaps it was the presence of a child, but Little Seven truly seemed to settle down—partly because her husband stopped fighting back, letting her have her way in all things.

Later, after Mother lectured Little Seven once, she returned home and insisted that her husband take a concubine. Upon hearing this, my brother-in-law jumped up on the spot and, right in front of my aunt, gave Little Seven a fierce scolding. Little Seven felt genuinely wronged for a long time, but from that day on, the couple rarely quarreled, and no one ever mentioned concubines again. But that is a story for another time.

In the late spring of the sixteenth year of Chengxiao, my eldest sister was assassinated.

My father’s hair turned white overnight. My mother issued a stern order: if anyone in the household dared to disturb our grandmother with the news, they would be punished without mercy. I held my daughter in my arms and wept bitterly. My husband was deeply shaken, saying that in all the years he had known me, he had never seen me cry like that.

Little Seven rushed back from Jingzhou. Afraid to face our father, she came to me first, and we collapsed into each other’s arms, weeping. Our husbands sent all the servants away and watched us in silence, not daring to step forward or utter a sound.

My father’s health had never been robust, and from that point on, it declined rapidly. To ensure I could return home often to care for him, I selected two more concubines for my husband. He dared not object, though the way my mother-in-law looked at me became rather peculiar.

The wife of my second brother would cause an uproar for days if he so much as glanced at a pretty maid, yet I never argued with my husband over such things, nor did I ever make life difficult for the concubines he favored. I focused entirely on raising my children and managing the household.

I knew the servants whispered behind my back, claiming I was like a bodhisattva in a temple, devoid of human passion, anger, or joy. When I heard this, I did not get angry. A person’s energy is limited; I had to love my children, care for my parents, serve my parents-in-law, manage the household, and occasionally gather with my siblings—I felt there was never enough time. I had no energy left to waste on jealousy.

In truth, I had long known that my husband had a childhood sweetheart he loved dearly, but the command of his parents had forced him to marry me. I married him only because the Luo estate was so close to the Xu residence—only the time it takes to burn a stick of incense by carriage. Before he married me, he had already settled his sweetheart in an alley in the east of the city, and they even had a daughter together.

I knew it all, but I chose to act as though I did not. My mother said that such a lowly outsider was not worth a glance, as it would only stain the dignity of the fifth daughter of the Xu family. Because of my virtue, my mother-in-law decided to hand the management of the entire Luo household over to me. My sisters-in-law secretly accused me of coveting the Luo family’s wealth, and I smiled faintly to myself.

When I married, the dowry the Xu family provided was enough to keep me in luxury for ten lifetimes; I had no need for the Luo family’s wealth. But I had to hold onto what belonged to my children. As a mother, I had to secure their future.

Perhaps out of guilt, my husband was almost entirely submissive to me. All the concubines in our chambers were arranged by my hand, and he never strayed. Within the clan, he gave me plenty of face. My sisters-in-law would always sigh with envy in front of others, praising our marriage as a harmonious union of mutual respect.