The winter of the twentieth year of Jinghe was especially cold.
As the year drew to a close, snow fell over the capital for seven days and seven nights.
Snowflakes swirled down, blanketing the entire capital in ice and snow. As far as the eye could see, the world was white.
At dawn, the sky was just beginning to lighten.
In a run-down alley in the southern part of the city, a rough wooden gate creaked open. Someone pushed it from within, and a woman stepped out.
She did not look very old—perhaps a little over thirty. Her striking brows and eyes still faintly hinted at the breathtaking beauty she had once possessed.
Had one of the capital’s noblewomen been there, she would have recognized her as Gan Caier, once the laughingstock of the capital’s society of noblewomen, the infamous “beautiful fool.”
But the Gan Caier of today could no longer be called a “beauty.”
Her face was now lined with fine wrinkles. Her skin was rough and sallow, her complexion dull, and she looked far older than her years.
A cheap blue-and-white patterned headscarf covered her hair. A few strands poked out at the edges, a mixture of yellowed and white hair that only added to her shabby, wretched appearance.
Every few steps, she had to stop to catch her breath. She looked terribly frail. Her clothes were thin, too: she wore only a single padded jacket patterned with small flowers. Whenever the cold wind blew, she shivered uncontrollably.
Though she was cold and unwell, Gan Caier pressed on through the snow and wind.
After seven days and nights of snowfall, the streets and alleys of the capital lay under a thick blanket of snow.
Every step was a struggle for Gan Caier. It took her four hours to walk from the southern part of the city to the west.
In the capital, the east was wealthy, the west noble, the south lowly, and the north poor. Those who lived in the western district were either princes and high officials or members of distinguished clans—all people of power and privilege.
Keeping close to the walls, Gan Caier turned this way and that until she reached the back alley behind a grand estate. She made her way there with practiced ease.
At the very end of the alley, she crouched and scraped at the snow with her foot. A small dog hole appeared at the foot of the wall.
She took a short, fresh sprig of cypress from inside her robe, slipped it into the hole, and gently waggled it.
A moment later, a voice came from the other side of the wall.
“Mother, is that you?” The voice was young, belonging to a boy of about eight or nine, with a touch of childishness still in it.
That single word—“Mother”—cut Gan Caier to the heart. Her eyes instantly reddened, and tears began to fall, drop by drop.
“Xing’er, it’s me,” she said, her voice choked with emotion.
“Mother, can’t you take me away?” Hope filled the little voice.
Gan Caier’s heart felt as if it were being cut to pieces. Her tears fell even faster.
He was the son she had carried for ten months and given birth to. How could she not long to be with him? But she was powerless, and her words carried no weight. How could she stand against the Duke of Weiguo’s Residence?
She steadied herself and forced her voice to sound as cheerful as she could. “Xing’er, when you’re a little older, you can apply through the clan school to study at an academy. Then we’ll be able to see each other.”
“No! Mother won’t let me go study elsewhere. She won’t even let me attend the clan school anymore!”
“Mother, just take me away. You were able to take my little sister with you, so why can’t you take me too?” His voice grew agitated, on the verge of tears, full of hurt and grievance.
Her son’s words cut into Gan Caier’s heart inch by inch. She knew all too well that the vicious woman who had plotted to ruin her reputation and drive her into a dead end would never treat her son kindly.
But…
“Xing’er, you’re the eldest son of the Duke of Weiguo’s Residence. Your name is entered in the clan genealogy. I can’t take you with me…”
Gan Caier covered her mouth and broke into sobs.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to take her son away. It was simply impossible.
Hearing her cry, the voice on the other side of the wall grew frantic.
“Mother, don’t cry. I won’t leave. I won’t ask to leave anymore.”
“Mother, I’ll listen to you. I’ll study hard! If they won’t let me study, I’ll do it in secret. When I grow up, I’ll make sure you get justice!”
Wiping away her tears, Gan Caier took a purse from inside her robe and pushed it through the dog hole with all her might.
“There are many vicious servants in the residence. Take this silver. If First Madam has people make things difficult for you, use some money to smooth things over. Don’t be reluctant to spend it. I ask for nothing else, only that you and your sister stay safe.”
“Mother, I understand.”
A pair of small hands took the purse and clutched it tightly.
“Young Master, hurry back. Don’t let anyone find out,” a young servant called from farther away.
“All right. Xing’er, hurry back to your room. It’s cold today, so be careful not to catch a chill.” Gan Caier urged him on, too.
“Mother, when will you come again?”
“On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month. How does that sound? I’ll bring you a sugar figurine.”
“Mm. All right.”
Meng Beihai got to his feet and tugged at his robe. It was made of fine Yunjin brocade trimmed with fox fur, but it was badly worn and clearly much too small; it did not even cover his wrists.
Ever since his father had died in battle and his mother had been driven out of the Duke of Weiguo’s Residence, his life there had grown worse by the day. He pressed his lips together, clutched the purse in his hand, and turned away.
Only after the footsteps on the other side of the wall had faded into the distance did Gan Caier brace herself against the wall and slowly straighten up. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. She dug her fingernails into the wall, just managing to keep herself from collapsing into the snow.
Four years earlier, she had suffered a difficult labor when giving birth to her daughter, and it had left her with lasting health problems. Over the past two years, her health had deteriorated even further. She was terribly weak, coughing or gasping for breath all day long.
Gan Caier rubbed her numb, frozen hands and suddenly felt like crying. She had once been a young woman of stunning beauty, once the envy of everyone as the wife of the top scholar in the imperial examinations. How had she ended up like this?