The spring in Chang’an carried a warm, dry air that cracked the earth into flakes of dust. Amidst the deep, resonant tolling of the morning bell, the gates of Chongyi Ward slowly creaked open, stirring up clouds of dust that spread like gray mist.
The Wu Hou guarding the gate was accustomed to this, even yawning widely within the dusty haze. However, the young women waiting by the ward entrance couldn’t help but cough lightly, drawing another glance from the guard.
They appeared ordinary, dressed plainly without adornments, yet a second look revealed something less than ordinary.
Setting aside those wearing veiled hats, the young woman about to approach and speak, though weary and anxious, could not conceal her striking beauty.
‘Nobles after all—look at that face and figure.’
This Wu Hou was responsible for guarding and patrolling Chongyi Ward, so he naturally heard of events within. The confiscation of a Marquis’s Mansion was no exception. The Imperial Guards and Buliang Ren assigned to seize the property had all gotten their hands greasy with profit, though he regretted missing out on such a lucrative task.
This carriage of women from the Marquis’s Mansion, now demoted to commoners, had to leave the ward and the city at the break of dawn, likely to avoid prying eyes and gossip.
The Wu Hou swept his gaze over them, noting their meager belongings—compressed and dried like spent tea leaves, offering no spoils. Though tempted to grope for a lingering fragrance or shine, his morning fatigue and empty stomach left him with desire but no energy. He merely waved impatiently, urging them to move on.
Lan Panxiao softly expressed thanks, then turned to quietly count and check the group. Behind her, a night-soil cart pulled by a mule grew impatient with her slow pace, its driver cracking a whip that seemed to sever the lingering bell tones.
Ming Baoqing, beneath her veiled hat, swallowed the itch in her throat stirred by the dust, thinking, ‘The morning bell—I’ve never heard it so clearly before.’
She was more familiar with the evening drums signaling the curfew. As the eldest daughter of Marquis Ming and betrothed to the Lin family of Hedong, her days were filled with endless invitations and name cards. Spring outings, summer coolings, autumn moon-viewings, winter snow-admirings—the seasonal amusements were plentiful, often leading to late returns.
Lost in thought, the sloshing of waste in wooden barrels abruptly neared then faded, shattering the fleeting memories of spring blossoms and autumn moons in her mind. She really shouldn’t dwell on such things anymore.
“Waking in the dark just to leave alongside the night-soil cart—what a brilliant idea!” Ming Baoshan whispered in complaint.
Moreover, rising early mattered little; in Chang’an, someone was always awake before them.
Besides the changing night watchmen and the night-soil carriers heading out of the city, various breakfast stalls were already stirring. The sounds of boiling water and crackling firewood grew lively, sharpening the hunger of those with empty stomachs.
“Alright, let’s go. Fourth Sister, come here, hold my hand.” Lan Panxiao led the group toward the ward gate, revealing behind them a biluo shop that had just opened half its door. Suddenly, the Wu Hou raised a hand, gesturing with a flick of his finger.
Startled, Lan Panxiao thought the gesture was for her, but turning, she saw an old man with a brown cloth turban peeking out from the biluo shop. He nodded with a smile, tying the strings of his half-sleeved garment as he turned and called inside, “Du Dalang, the usual—two scallion-sesame cakes and a bowl of wide, flat noodle soup with pickles.”
Lan Panxiao paused, suddenly realizing that this unbearably heavy, gloomy dawn was, for others, merely another fresh and ordinary day.
From Chongyi to Chunming Gate, they had to pass through three wards and one market. The city roads were orderly and flat, and their bundles contained only a few old servant clothes, so they weren’t heavily burdened.
Yet after days of fear and hunger, none of them—accustomed to a life of comfort—could endure it. Having walked just one ward’s distance, they were already exhausted.
Apart from the youngest daughter Ming Baojin, who wore no veil, the other daughters were all half-covered. Still, Lan Panxiao could tell who was sighing in distress and who was softly sobbing.
Daughters—she had four daughters, yet not one was her own flesh and blood.
The legitimate daughter Ming Baoqing was born to the Marquis Ming’s first wife. The second daughter Ming Baoshan was born to concubine Zhu. The third daughter Ming Baoying was born to concubine Lin, while Ming Baojin’s birth mother had already passed away.
The remaining women with plain faces were mostly the Marquis Ming’s concubines, each older than Lan Panxiao.
The eldest among them, concubine Miao, was actually a concubine of the old Marquis Ming. It was said she was brought in based on her birth characters to ward off illness for the then-ailing old marquis, and she did indeed extend his life by two years, earning her merit. Thus, even though she never consummated her marriage with the old marquis, she was still kept in the estate.
Concubine Lin was the youngest. Her five-year-old son had followed his thirteen-year-old second brother into the Ministry of Agriculture as an official slave, leaving her grief-stricken to the point of madness.
Compared to the eldest brother, who was exiled to Qixi (the Western Regions), this was still somewhat better—at least they remained within the imperial city, not separated by vast distances. But this was merely comforting words. As slaves, they had no control over their fates, and it was uncertain whether they would ever meet again in this lifetime.
Fortunately, Ming Baoying was still by her side, offering a glimmer of hope.
‘All of this is his fault.’ It was only when the Marquis Ming took his own life that Lan Panxiao realized the man she had once feared so much was actually weak on the inside, bold yet foolish.
He had deluded himself into thinking he could achieve merit by supporting a contender for the throne, never expecting that in the end, it would be a princess who ascended, killing her brothers and imprisoning her siblings with ruthless efficiency. The imperial family was in chaos, and those beneath were bound to suffer a hundredfold more.
The Marquis Ming’s death might have brought an end to his troubles, but it displeased the Emperor, who increased the severity of the punishment.
‘If he hadn’t feared the Emperor’s wrath and taken his own life, the third son could have followed us. The eldest son wouldn’t have had to wear shackles and go as far as Qixi. Even if he had entered the Ministry of Agriculture, at least he would have been with the second son, giving the eldest daughter some hope.’
Lan Panxiao dared not resent the Emperor. In fact, when she heard they were merely demoted to commoners instead of being made entertainers or slaves, she felt grateful.
Yet Lan Panxiao also knew this leniency was granted out of regard for Ming Baoqing—it was her maternal grandmother, Lady Zhuo, who, despite her age and illness, had pleaded for it in the palace.
As soon as the imperial decree was issued, Lady Zhuo fell ill and passed away. Ming Baoqing couldn’t even bid her final farewell.
Thinking of this, Lan Panxiao glanced at Ming Baoqing. Dressed in plain clothes with a thin veil covering her face, her posture was as straight as a pine or cypress.
She and the eldest son were both born to the previous wife. Even compared to her, Lan Panxiao wasn’t much older.
Concubine Zhu continued to complain incessantly, and Ming Baoshan, influenced by her, began to sob as well.
Whether it was due to her background as a musician or her mixed Hu heritage, Concubine Zhu had an exceptionally clear voice. Even after days of wailing, not a trace of hoarseness could be heard.
Ming Baoshan took after her. Beyond her bright and charming appearance, her cries were like falling rain and rolling pearls—clear and melodious.
“Take it one step at a time, stop crying.” Lan Panxiao was growing somewhat annoyed by the weeping, but her gentle and tolerant nature meant even her harshest words carried little weight.
It was only natural to feel fear and unease in the face of sudden upheaval, but times had changed. Everyone was anxious yet enduring, yet she still carried on as if she were back in her boudoir, fussing over clothes and jewelry.
“Second Sister, quiet!” Ming Baoqing snapped, and the sudden downpour of tears ceased.
Although there were shops within the residential wards, most were still homes. Even those who had to rise early for work or morning study were mostly still bleary-eyed and listless.
But now that they had entered the East Market, the noise gradually grew louder. Since the city gates and ward gates opened simultaneously at this hour, most of the commoners entering the city were heading to the market. Thus, the East Market was far busier than Lan Panxiao had imagined.
Baskets of wild mountain vegetables, carts laden with plump meat and silvery fish.
In early spring, cherries were already ripe. Ming Baoqing guessed these must be the first batch from the hot spring estates of the nobility in the outskirts of the capital.
Baskets of cherries were packed into small bamboo baskets still tinged with green, cushioned by layers of fine, soft leaves, making them appear even more glossy and crimson.
When unloaded, the porters carried them on their shoulders, treating them with utmost care.
“I want cherry curd,” Ming Baojin said, rather thoughtlessly.
No one paid her any mind.
Vendors warmly called out to customers. Steamed buns were fluffy and white as clouds, while Hu-style flatbreads were crispy and fragrant with oil. The Yu family’s glutinous rice dumplings, which Ming Baoqing often ate, hadn’t opened yet, but the aroma of sticky rice already wafted through the cracks in the door. Yet, how could they dare spend even a single coin? So, they instinctively avoided the bustling market and headed toward the quieter paths.
Lan Panxiao also walked with her head down until she caught sight of the execution platform and realized she had strayed too far, ending up near Goujiling.
Chang’an had two execution grounds, one east and one west. The one in the West Market was called Duliushu, while the one in the East Market was called Goujiling. Merchants avoided setting up shops here to steer clear of bad luck, which was why it was so desolate and gloomy.
Every change of emperor meant death for some and opportunity for others. On the high platform, the bloodstains were mottled and filthy. The freshest among them likely came from some of the former crown prince’s followers and supporters.
“Ah!” Ming Baoshan complained, feeling a chill wind and hurriedly tightening her collar.
Lan Panxiao was also at a loss. Ming Baoqing withdrew her gaze from the execution platform and said in a low, comforting voice, “Mother, let’s just pass through quickly. Don’t overthink it.”
No sooner had she spoken than the sound of hurried footsteps approached from behind.
Ming Baoqing’s veil hat swayed as she saw three or five men in black boots and carrying swords emerge from the Wu Hou post near Goujiling. They were likely Jinwu Guards and Buliang Ren who had just finished their shift, seemingly on their way to breakfast.
That alone wouldn’t have been a problem, but these men looked all too familiar—they had all taken part in the confiscation of their family’s property.
Chang’an was divided into two counties, Chang’an and Wannian, by Zhuque Avenue. Although their jurisdictions extended beyond the city walls and into the suburbs, the county offices were located within the city, in Xuanyang Ward, adjacent to Chongyi Ward, where the Marquis’s Mansion stood.
When the palace sent Prince An and the supervising censor to confiscate their property, besides the Jinwu Guards, the Buliang Ren from the Wannian County office were also mobilized due to their proximity.
“Such rotten luck!” Aunt Zhu cursed under her breath.
Men seemed to take pleasure in feeding on women’s fear. Lan Panxiao remembered all too well the Buliang Ren captain leading them, named Yan Guan. He had cold eyes, thick eyebrows, and pitch-black pupils. When he wasn’t smiling, his demeanor was fierce and intimidating, having frightened her many times. When he smiled, his eyes curved and his teeth sharpened, making him even more terrifying.
At that moment, Yan Guan stepped forward, his expression lazy but adopting an enthusiastic tone, saying, “Is Madam Lan setting off already?”
Lan Panxiao lowered her eyes and respectfully replied yes. He then said, “Shall I escort you for a while?”
His words sounded pleasant, but in truth, he merely wanted to squeeze out the last bit of profit.
“How could we dare to trouble you? We can leave the city on our own,” Lan Panxiao hurriedly replied.
“Oh? Have you found a place to stay?” Yan Guan slowly circled around to face them, his gaze lingering on the bundles they carried on their backs.
“Yes,” Lan Panxiao said, noticing his eyes were always fixed on those bundles. “Those are just clothes.”
“Clothes? A single brocade gown from you ladies could fetch ten days’ worth of lodging at a pawnshop.”
They were dressed in old servant clothes; their silks and satins had long been confiscated. These Golden Guard and Buliang Ren either suspected they still had the means to hide some personal belongings or simply wanted to torment them.
“Commander Yan should have great confidence in the duties he has carried out,” Ming Baoqing’s voice came from beneath the veil, not concealing the sarcasm in her tone.
In the past, Ming Baoqing could never have imagined that a mere head constable from the Wanxian County Office—a lowly scum who mingled in the filthy, stinking corners of the city—would one day step into her home and trample and humiliate them at will.
Though separated by a layer of white gauze, Yan Guan immediately met Ming Baoqing’s gaze.
“Miss Ming is right,” Yan Guan was the first to look away. He lifted the cloth covering the small bamboo cage in Ming Baoshan’s hand and saw the bird inside, with its pink cheeks and emerald-yellow feathers, a creature of considerable value. Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Look, this bird would sell for at least ten strings of cash on the market. If I let you take it away, wouldn’tt that be a flaw in my duty?”
“Commander Yan speaks wisely,” Ming Baoqing leaned forward, reached out, and removed the latch of the cage door. Amid the shouts of the others, she grabbed the parrot and tossed it into the air, saying to Yan Guan, “Now it’s settled.”
Ming Baoshan let out a scream, her voice trembling, “My ‘Lychee’!”
Watching ten strings of cash fly away for nothing, several street officers and Buliang Ren were greatly displeased. But before they could vent their anger, they saw Yan Guan laugh and say, “I thought after enduring so much hardship, the young lady would have become more accommodating.”
“I thought Commander Yan had already had his fill of lecturing others these past two days. I didn’t expect you to still be so fond of playing the teacher,” Ming Baoqing stared intently at the downy feathers lingering on her fingertips, not even glancing at Yan Guan.
Yan Guan raised a hand to stop his subordinates’ agitation. He glanced at the cat in Ming Baoying’s arms, seeing it was an ordinary tabby, and seemed somewhat disappointed. Then he turned his gaze to the small jar held by Ming Baojin.
Ming Baojin watched as he reached out to lift the lid of the jar, still wearing an innocent expression. In a soft, childlike voice, she said, “Look, my little turtle.”
The jar had a shallow mouth and a wide belly. At first glance, only a turtle, slightly larger than a wine cup’s mouth, could be seen leisurely paddling in the water.
Yan Guan smiled at Ming Baojin and extended two fingers to pinch her cheek, only to have his hand unceremoniously slapped away by Ming Baoqing.
“Hey!” A subordinate spoke up indignantly on Yan Guan’s behalf, saying, “Still think you’re some noble lady from a high-ranking family? You’re lucky you weren’t sent to the entertainment camp. The third and fourth daughters of the Tongzhi Lang are already in the Longyou Army. Tsk, you women really are…”
“Silence!”
“What did you say?”
Ming Baoqing and Yan Guan’s voices rang out simultaneously. The Buliang Ren knew he had spoken out of turn, but then he heard Ming Baoqing press further, “Commander Yan’s subordinate seems to look down on women. Speaking so thoughtlessly, could it be that in his heart…”
“Lady Ming,” Yan Guan cut her off, pausing briefly before continuing slowly, “I will escort you out of the city. I guarantee your safety.”
Ming Baoqing herself was someone who had narrowly escaped death. Such speculative tactics, if used against her by others, would only be employed more readily. Thus, she fell silent.
Lan Panxiao hurriedly declined the offer and urged them to leave quickly.
Ming Baoqing strode ahead, her demeanor not one of fearful flight but of disgusted avoidance.
Aunt Lin suddenly let out a strange cry, and Ming Baoying rushed to cover her mouth. The cat leaped gently from her arms and was picked up by Old Miao, who bent down slowly.
Ming Baoshan, having lost her caged bird, trembled uncontrollably.
Only Ming Baojin, innocent of worldly affairs, lowered her head and poked the little turtle. Seeing it wave its four limbs and dive into the water, she revealed the brilliantly colored and graceful golden koi swimming beneath.