Earlier, His Majesty had seemed to target the Military Bureau, leaving its officials fearful. Men like Zhang Xian, part of Prince Tai’s faction in the capital, naturally caught wind of this and kept a low profile for a time.
But now, before the Sixth Prince had even finished his assignment, the Emperor summoned him back and scolded him harshly before the court.
Word spread that His Majesty found Liu Ling, the Sixth Prince, useless and banished him to Jizhou to dredge mud and repair river channels.
This showed that Prince Tai still held the Emperor’s favor, steering the ship of state, which reassured his faction.
Thus, even if Zhou Sui’an truly held some leverage against Zhang Xian’s brother-in-law, Zhang Xian no longer feared it.
“What is this Zhou fellow anyway? If I don’t put him in his place, he’ll think himself ancestor of the Zhang family!”
Seeing this, Chu Linlang had wanted to reconcile with Madam Lin, but Madam Lin had turned cold, treating her with indifference.
Chu Linlang knew that the false accounts she had swallowed were past their time. All she could do was urge Zhou Sui’an to endure, to serve cautiously, and avoid leaving others a handle against him.
But Zhou Sui’an, flushed with shame and anger, retorted: “Why did you plead with them? He really thinks a feather is an imperial command. A petty clerk—what can he do to me?”
In the past, Chu Linlang would have tried to persuade him patiently. But now, for some reason, he would not listen, and she no longer cared to argue. Some lessons must be learned through suffering. Yet the malice of petty men is worse than vipers. Within days, trouble came even to Linlang’s newly opened tavern.
Officials demanded endless taxes and fees under countless pretexts. If she argued, they sneered: “What? Because it’s the magistrate’s wife’s business, it should be exempt?”
That one sentence made Chu Linlang abandon any thought of contesting them. She knew these men had been deliberately sent, with orders to harass. Their repeated inspections and intimidation drove customers away, leaving the once lively tavern desolate.
If it continued, the business would collapse. Chu Linlang decided swiftly: better to sell the tavern before losses grew, and remove the excuse for harassment.
Madam Zhao was distressed, thinking it too great a loss. Even so, the tavern hung its sign but drew no buyers. After ten days, someone finally offered a price—but far too low.
Chu Linlang investigated and learned the buyer was Madam Lin’s brother-in-law. She recalled how Madam Lin had once inquired closely about the tavern’s profits. So it had been targeted long ago.
When Zhou Sui’an heard, he smashed three bowls in fury, cursing Zhang Xian’s family for their bullying.
Chu Linlang too worried—not only that the tavern sold cheaply, but that dealing with Zhang Xian, backed by powerful patrons, would bring greater troubles. She remembered then the fortune Situ Sheng had once cast for her: *If the chance comes, move.*
But to transfer posts required opportunity and connections. Otherwise, unless Zhou Sui’an resigned, they would have to endure among snakes and rats.
One day, Zhou Sui’an rushed home, dragging Chu Linlang from the garden into the house.
“Look! The Sixth Prince has written to me personally!”
After being rebuked, the prince had gone to Jizhou to manage river works. Short of capable men, he remembered Zhou Sui’an, who had once followed him in Lianzhou, speaking of water management. He now sought Zhou Sui’an’s help.
Receiving the letter, Zhou Sui’an felt as though holding a burning coal. Everyone knew the prince had failed and lost favor. Yet he wanted Zhou Sui’an under his command. Zhou Sui’an feared this was no good and sought Chu Linlang’s counsel.
Chu Linlang read the letter several times, worried she might misinterpret, and had Zhou Sui’an read it aloud again.
It was clear: the prince, tasked with river works, lacked skilled officials, and wanted Zhou Sui’an to assist.
Impatient with Zhou Sui’an ’s slow reading, Chu Linlang snatched the letter and stumbled through it herself, then returned it to him.
Zhou Sui’an already had an idea on the way home. After reading, he said softly: “Perhaps you could ask Madam He to have her husband report that Lianzhou’s military and waterworks are too busy, so I must remain. That would be a proper excuse to refuse.”
Chu Linlang thought, then asked: “Why not go?”
Zhou Sui’an sighed: “Do you think me a fool? Jizhou is poorer than Lianzhou. Only disgraced officials are sent there. I once served the prince with zeal, hoping for recognition. But now he wants me to share his exile!”
Chu Linlang mused, then said slowly: “People thrive when they move, trees die when transplanted. I think going to Jizhou might be good…”
Zhou Sui’an stared blankly, not understanding. Chu Linlang paced, sorting her thoughts: “The prince’s ability—you’ve seen it. He never decides alone, always asks his tutor. If His Majesty truly blamed him, he would punish those who aided him. Yet the Emperor scolded lightly, sending him to a barren place, but kept Master Situ in the Ministry of Personnel. That is no idle post. Though low in rank, it handles vital affairs. This shows His Majesty has not abandoned the prince.”
Zhou Sui’an blinked, still confused.
Chu Linlang continued: “Here in Lianzhou, the waters run deep. Everywhere are Prince Tai’s men, all with patrons in the capital. You have no backing and have made enemies. Stay too long, and you’ll be dragged down. Since Jizhou is as poor as Lianzhou, it’s better to go, suffer a little, and escape these dangers.”
Jizhou was no lucrative post. The Sixth Prince had not issued an official decree but instead wrote to ask Zhou Sui’an’s opinion. This showed he was not a domineering man.
Though an obscure prince, obscurity had its advantages—it spared him from future struggles for power, making him well-suited to someone like Zhou Sui’an, who lacked flexibility.
Most importantly, Chu Linlang decided to trust Situ Sheng’s earlier advice: *if the chance to move comes, do not miss it.*
After Chu Linlang’s careful analysis, Zhou Sui’an’s heart settled. *A man dies for the one who understands him.* Though the Sixth Prince was unfavored, he appreciated Zhou Sui’an’s worth. Better to serve a prince than to endure Zhang Xian’s petty malice.
Still, Zhou Sui’an hesitated: “If I spend my life in Jizhou dredging mud and repairing rivers, will you think me useless, wasting ten years of study?”
Since Madam Hu entered the household, Chu Linlang had treated him with cool indifference, leaving him uneasy.
Seeing his rare vulnerability, Chu Linlang felt a pang of sorrow, though she did not show it. She said softly: “I have never feared hardship. Rest assured—even if Jizhou is a mountain of blades or a sea of fire, I will go with you.”
Zhou Sui’an, moved, embraced his wife tightly.
Madam Hu was young and gentle, but she could never compare to Chu Linlang, who had shared years of trials with him.
Yet Chu Linlang caught the faint scent of rose powder on his clothes—the fragrance Madam Hu always used. She disliked it, and under the pretense of grinding ink for him, slipped free of his arms.
With Chu Linlang’s reassurance, Zhou Sui’an composed a letter to the Sixth Prince, humbly accepting the summons. *A man dies for the one who knows him.* He agreed to transfer to Jizhou and offer his service.
When the appointment was announced, Zhang Xian gloated, bringing his brother-in-law and colleagues to “see Zhou off.”
Now that Lianzhou’s winds of reform had blown past, it remained Prince Tai’s domain. Zhang Xian no longer feared Zhou Sui’an investigating his kin, and his words dripped with malice.
Others joined in mockery: “Bring extra buckets of water—Jizhou is plagued by drought. Madam Chu, so fair-skinned, may not bathe more than once a year!”
Had Chu Linlang not held Zhou Sui’an’s arm tightly inside the carriage, he would have leapt out to brawl with Zhang Xian.
Leaving Lianzhou’s gates, Zhou Sui’an wept with rage, vowing: “One day, I will make you vermin look at me with new eyes!”
Meanwhile, Madam Zhao fumed at Chu Linlang. She had heard from the Prefect’s wife that Zhou Sui’an’s transfer could have been avoided, but Chu Linlang had persuaded him to accept.
Other officials’ wives shook their heads, saying Zhou Sui’an was foolish. Madam Zhao realized her daughter-in-law had meddled and cursed Chu Linlang endlessly.
But Chu Linlang, hardened, ignored her mother-in-law’s scolding, never answering back. Eventually, Madam Zhao grew weary, lying in her carriage in silence, weeping.
Concubine Hu served Madam Zhao, sometimes visiting Chu Linlang’s carriage to report her condition. Hearing that Madam Zhao had eaten a full bowl of chicken soup at noon, Chu Linlang was reassured.
Such appetite, without motion sickness, meant no serious illness.
As they neared Jizhou, Chu Linlang wondered whether the Sixth Prince would arrange their lodgings.
When Madam Hu offered her the remaining half pot of chicken soup, Linlang shook her head: “You drink it.”
Madam Hu thanked her gratefully. At first, she had feared Chu Linlang’s fierce reputation as a “shrew of the east.” But in truth, Chu Linlang was brisk and straightforward, less strict than Madam Zhao.
On the journey, Madam Hu preferred Chu Linlang’s company to Madam Zhao’s endless complaints.
Chu Linlang, however, had no wish to play the gracious wife. Though she aspired to be a capable household manager, jealousy was her lifelong flaw. She could never truly befriend Madam Hu.
Before leaving Lianzhou, Chu Linlang had sold her tavern cheaply to the Prefect’s uncle, just to spite Zhang’s family. It cost her dearly, but at least Zhang Xian gained nothing.
The loss weighed on her, leaving her no patience for Madam Hu’s chatter. Yet Madam Hu, blind to her mood, prattled on with tales of village relatives, buzzing in Chu Linlang’s ears.
Seizing a moment while waiting for the boat, Chu Linlang excused herself, walking with Xia He along the riverside for peace.
Nearby was a ferry crossing. Boats carried goods to Jizhou during spring floods, when the thawed waters rose. In drought, the river ran dry, making transport difficult.
They waited there for the Zhou family’s belongings, shipped by boat. Chu Linlang intended to count them herself before traveling on.
Spring warmth filled the air. Chu Linlang sat at a tea stall, sipping herbal tea with her pastries.
Suddenly, a splash sounded—something fell into the water. From a boat docking nearby came a woman’s furious cry: “Situ Sheng, you go too far!”
At the name, Chu Linlang’s throat tightened. The dry pastry lodged in her throat, choking her. Before Xia He could react, a large hand reached across the table, offering her tea.