Remembering how Situ Sheng had used historical examples to admonish her, Chu Linlang quickly declared that she was no scheming woman and would never presume to draw the curtain and meddle in her husband’s affairs.
Situ Sheng frowned slightly: “You think that was my meaning?”
He gave a self-deprecating smile and explained: “Those two women were gifted with intelligence and learning, no less than the men of their time. Though female, they safeguarded the realm. They were not the disgraceful figures that pedants slander them to be…”
Chu Linlang blinked and asked cautiously: “Then… was Master Situ recounting history, or… praising me?”
Situ Sheng thought for a moment, then said lightly: “I have a favor to ask, so naturally I must speak pleasantly. Alas, my skill at flattery is far inferior to yours, Madam…”
Chu Linlang exhaled in relief and smiled: “I read little as a child, so I cannot grasp your lofty teachings. If you need my help, speak plainly.”
What importance could an old register of local officials hold? Why flatter her for it? She resolved to send it later without fuss.
Situ Sheng thanked her and turned to leave. But after a few steps, he paused, looked back, and asked: “…Does Lord Zhou treat you well?”
Chu Linlang, ever cautious in speaking with him, was startled by the sudden question, but quickly replied: “He is my husband—of course, he treats me well.”
Situ Sheng glanced at her, his lips curling with faint irony: “You devote yourself to supporting him, hoping he will rise high. But have you heard the saying, *‘Regret teaching your husband to seek rank and title’*?”
Chu Linlang had indeed heard it—her madwoman neighbor in childhood used to shout it daily, until she later learned it was an old verse.
Situ Sheng was silent for a moment, then said: “In all things, gain and loss go hand in hand. Madam must learn moderation, lest you suffer more loss than gain…”
With that, he departed gracefully.
His words were always clouded and elusive, and Chu Linlang could never quite grasp his tone. Confused, she stepped forward to the temple’s high point, watching him stride swiftly down the mountain path. Seeing the route he took, she suddenly realized: had he been on the opposite mountain, seen her, and followed the path here? If so, then he must have overheard the gossiping women.
He must have heard them say that Zhou Sui’an was cowed by a domineering wife, unable even to take a concubine to continue his line. Was that why he spoke so?
Was he hinting that if Zhou Sui’an rose to high office, he would cast aside his humble wife? No—that would be absurd. Her husband had offended him; surely he should treat such gossip as a joke.
Yet indeed, what kind of man was a prefectural magistrate, ruled by his wife, unable even to take a concubine? A pitiful weakling.
She understood his hidden meaning. That line—*“Regret teaching your husband to seek rank and title”*—was a mockery. He meant that if she was so jealous, she might as well remain in the countryside with her useless husband, rather than hinder his future.
Wouldn’t that ruin Zhou Sui’an’s career? The saying held some truth. If they had stayed poor in the village, worrying only about daily survival, there would be no scandal over concubines.
But Zhou Sui’an was not only her husband—he was her savior. Affection might fade, but duty endured forever. How could she, for her own petty feelings, destroy his bright future?
She was not like that clerk’s wife—she would never, even with food in hand, cruelly feed him ruin.
On the way home that day, Chu Linlang was distracted, barely able to answer the Prefect’s wife’s questions. When she returned, her maid Dongxue whispered that the old madam had, in her absence, summoned several matchmakers.
In the past, Chu Linlang would have crushed such schemes immediately, leaving no hidden trouble. These were familiar games between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. But this time, when Dongxue reported it, Chu Linlang seemed indifferent, as if she hadn’t understood.
Dongxue grew anxious, wanting to press further, but Chu Linlang said casually: “From now on, whatever Mother does, don’t tell me. She is the elder of the household—it is not my place to interfere.”
Dongxue left disheartened, whispering to Xia He: “What’s wrong with Madam today?”
Xia He only shook her head, then went to the kitchen to prepare fruit soup, cooling it outside before bringing it to her mistress. She vaguely understood Chu Linlang’s mood—perhaps she was simply weary.
Even the finest garment, worn long enough, will tear. Should one throw it away for a small hole? That is the way of the wealthy. But those born poor—who has not patched and mended for ten years?
To Xia He, this marriage was just the same. It was the best robe her mistress would ever own. How could she discard it for a small flaw?
Xia He thought that this marriage, for her mistress, was much like a fine robe. It was the best garment Madam would ever own in her lifetime—how could she discard it just because of a small tear?
Now that her master was an official and the Zhou family’s fortunes had changed, the way husband and wife lived together would also have to change.
Sighing, Xia He carried the fruit soup slowly along the snow-covered path, hoping her master would remember his wife’s goodness and not let her heart grow cold.
Meanwhile, the Sixth Prince had stayed in Lianzhou for over half a month. Apart from executing a few ruffians who had tried to assassinate him, he made no further moves.
Soon, an imperial edict arrived. From its tone, it seemed to rebuke the prince, ordering him to return to the capital within days and leaving the remaining matters to other officials.
The officials of Lianzhou, old and new alike, breathed a sigh of relief. They sought no merit, only safety—better to send this living Buddha away quickly.
At the farewell banquet for the prince, Zhou Sui’an drank several more cups with Situ Sheng.
Zhou Sui’an, lofty in character, had always disdained the tricks of officialdom. Yet Situ Sheng, though sometimes overstepping his authority, was courteous, learned, and seemed to suit his temperament.
The two exchanged cups and chatted about family matters.
When Zhou Sui’an mentioned he had no children and that his mother was pressing him to take a concubine, Situ Sheng looked at him and said lightly: “Lord Zhou is still young—why be so hasty? I foresee you will rise another step in your career. Too many women in the household will only drag you down…”
Zhou Sui’an was stirred, raising his eyes to him. But Situ Sheng only smiled faintly, saying these were words of praise from the Sixth Prince.
Buoyed by such talk, Zhou Sui’an returned home glowing with excitement, telling Chu Linlang that the tutor had hinted he would be promoted.
Chu Linlang listened, but thought such words were empty castles in the air. If her husband took them too seriously, he would only be disappointed.
Zhou Sui’an felt she underestimated him. He believed his talent was no less than Situ Sheng’s—he simply lacked opportunity, not fortune enough to remain in the capital. The future was long; one day he would enter the capital as an official and bring glory to the Zhou family name.
Chu Linlang smiled gently and said: “Yes, yes, my lord is indeed stronger than many in the capital. I shall wait to wear the phoenix crown and become a titled lady.”
Zhou Sui’an clasped her hand solemnly: “Wife, you have suffered much with me. One day I will make you shine with honor, so that those who scorned you will not dare lift their eyes.”
His manner was warm and refined, though his eyes still held a trace of youthful innocence. Yet his words carried the weight of a man’s true responsibility.
Chu Linlang leaned slowly into his embrace, speaking with quiet emotion:
“With that promise, even if I suffer grievances in the future… it will be worth it.”
For a moment, husband and wife shared rare tenderness. Zhou Sui’an kissed her cheek, but before their intimacy could deepen, an old servant called from outside: “Master, Madam requests your presence!”
Chu Linlang quickly pulled away, while Zhou Sui’an muttered irritably: “What does Mother want? If it’s not urgent, I’ll go later.”
But when he heard that his father-in-law, Chu Huaisheng, had come, Zhou Sui’an leapt up as if burned, whispering in panic to Chu Linlang: “He… why has he come?”
He had forgotten—though the Sixth Prince had left, his father-in-law was an even greater terror. How could one rest easy when the King of Hell himself lingered?
Chu Linlang sighed. She should have known—Chu Huaisheng was a merchant, always seeking advantage. Having come to Lianzhou, how could he leave without seeing his son-in-law?
After the prince’s departure, Chu Huaisheng had grown furious at not finding Zhou Sui’an, scolding Madam Sun harshly, then asking for Chu Linlang. But he thought better of it—rather than summon, he would come himself to block the way, so his daughter could not evade him.
Though it was improper for a father-in-law to visit his son-in-law’s home uninvited, Chu Huaisheng, ever domineering before the couple, dragged Madam Sun along and barged in.
Madam Zhao, seeing this salt-merchant in-law, felt her head spin, and quickly summoned her son and daughter-in-law to shield the household.
An in-law’s visit, however unwelcome, required a banquet.
When the table was laid, Chu Huaisheng brazenly declared his purpose: he wanted his son-in-law to arrange a position for his eldest son. He spoke as though the Lianzhou yamen were his own salt shop.
Chu Linlang ignored her mother-in-law’s frown, poured wine for her father, and said: “Father, you’ve heard, haven’t you? The Sixth Prince executed many corrupt officials in the neighboring county. Quite a few posts have opened up.”
Zhou Sui’an was shocked that Chu Linlang would hand her father such a ladder, and tried desperately to signal her to stop.
But Chu Linlang pretended not to see, continuing pleasantly: “Sui’an told me he considered several posts. But the vacancies are all tainted with money. The last holder could not resist temptation and lost his head. When Sui’an mentioned his brother-in-law, his superior warned him to be cautious. These posts are closely watched. The prince’s men are still here—if corruption occurs again, it won’t just cost a head, but the whole family could be confiscated and exiled. Sui’an told me this, and I worried. Father, you know my brother’s nature—he cannot pass by silver without stopping. I fear he would not keep his hands clean and would drag you down. If the Chu family’s wealth were seized… it would be a great loss.”
Chu Renfeng’s nature was no secret to his father. If given a lucrative post, he would gorge himself like a rat in a rice jar.
Ordinarily, such fat positions were coveted. But Chu Huaisheng knew his daughter spoke true. At the inn these days, he had heard of the prince beheading yet another official.
Hearing that his son might bring ruin on the family fortune, Chu Huaisheng grew uneasy. Agitated, he snapped: “Why did you try to get your brother such a deadly post? A quiet one would do!”