Lord Situ’s words were considerate and comforting. If only the red mark from the slap on his face had faded a little more, they might have seemed even more convincing.
When Situ Sheng asked which occasion she meant, Chu Linlang dared not say—it was that time she had mocked him, hinting at some hidden infirmity. She could only smile awkwardly: “Well then, that’s good. I always tell people Lord Situ is a man of a broad heart, never one to fuss with a mere woman like me.”
This time, Situ Sheng looked at her fawning smile and lowered his eyes: “Madam flatters me too much. I am no child. I can tell which of your words are true, and which are false…”
Indeed, he was vengeful—he had returned her earlier jest about him being a picky child word for word.
Truly, too many words bring trouble. Chu Linlang decided not to stir further, forced a smile, picked up her scissors, and left.
Zhou Sui’an, meanwhile, was in high spirits throughout the meal.
After the ladies finished adorning themselves with flowers, Lord Zhou entertained the guests with music, playing elegant zither tunes.
The Sixth Prince was amiable, treating him like a close friend. The Princess Consort praised his literary talent repeatedly. Only Second Miss Xie spoiled the mood. After being scolded by her sister in the flower room, she seemed weary of all things.
When Zhou Sui’an finished a piece, Xie Youran coldly remarked that compared to the famous musicians of the capital, his playing was leagues apart, and that he ought to practice more before showing himself.
Zhou Sui’an felt slighted, but remembered Chu Linlang’s advice about courtesy, and refrained from arguing with her.
Aside from this unpleasant episode, the Zhou family banquet was a great success.
Zhou Sui’an’s excitement, like jade polished to brilliance, lasted until the feast ended.
At the table, amid idle chatter, talk inevitably turned to official prospects. Word spread that His Majesty had suddenly struck, seizing half of Prince Tai’s supporters.
The Ministry of War carried out a sweeping purge, filling posts with the Emperor’s own men. After more than twenty years on the throne, His Majesty had finally gained the upper hand in his struggle with his uncle.
As for the Fourth Prince, whom Prince Tai had long supported, he was implicated. His favored mother consort was banished to the Cold Palace. Though the prince himself was not punished, his glory was gone.
Once able to rival the Crown Prince and famed for his military achievements, the Fourth Prince now had to hide his light, living cautiously.
Situ Sheng did not join these discussions. Most of the time, he sat quietly, only occasionally meeting Chu Linlang’s gaze across the table—both quickly looking away.
The following days passed peacefully. Situ Sheng completed his duties and, weary of Miss Xie’s harassment, departed Jizhou after a few days.
On the day he left, Chu Linlang felt a secret relief, as though she could finally breathe. Yet as he boarded the boat, passing by her side, he glanced at her and said softly: “Thank you for your hospitality, Madam. If fate allows, when we meet again in the capital, I shall host a banquet in return…”
Chu Linlang sneered inwardly. A banquet? A Hongmen Banquet, more like.
As for the capital, she would never return there in her lifetime. And as for this “immortal gentleman,” it would be best never to meet again—better to forget each other, each living apart.
Perhaps he saw the disdain in her eyes, for he said no more. He leapt aboard, his white robes fluttering, and stood at the prow, bowing farewell.
Once Lord Situ was gone, life in Jizhou returned to normal. Zhou Sui’an grew busier, leaving early and returning late.
A month later, an imperial edict arrived from the capital. The Sixth Prince, who had shielded his father and earned merit, was to be rewarded. Once the riverworks in Jizhou were complete, he would return to the capital.
Naturally, Liu Ling would take trusted men with him.
At a banquet in the prince’s residence, amid a cheerful atmosphere, Liu Ling asked Zhou Sui’an, who had played for him: “Would you be willing to accompany me back to the capital?”
Zhou Sui’an understood the hint at once. Overjoyed, he bowed deeply: “To die for one who knows me—that is my duty. Your Highness is a discerning patron. I will follow you unto death.”
Chu Linlang heard clearly, watching her husband’s radiant face, his emotions worn openly. She thought his promotion was far too sudden.
The capital’s court was complex. Even the upheaval in Lianzhou showed how swiftly fortunes could change. For one as simple at heart as Zhou Sui’an, going to the capital might not be a blessing.
After the banquet, Chu Linlang voiced her concern: life in Jizhou was good. Why not stay, rather than risk the capital?
But Zhou Sui’an glared at her: “Usually, you urge me forward. Why lose heart today? His Highness is not a contender for the throne, merely a gentle prince. With such a patron, what risk is there?”
In short, Zhou Sui’an believed that winning the Sixth Prince’s favor was his own achievement. If he did not seize this chance, he would regret it forever. Most of his life’s decisions had been made by his parents. After marriage, Chu Linlang had guided him. Now, at last, he felt he had chosen for himself.
Now that he had won the Sixth Prince’s favor, Zhou Sui’an seemed suddenly enlightened, brimming with confidence. Such matters of career advancement were not for a woman like Chu to meddle in!
After the waterworks in Jizhou were completed, the imperial appointment documents arrived.
Sixth Prince Liu Ling had managed the project diligently, earning the Emperor’s delight. He was ennobled as Prince of An and appointed to assist in the Ministry of Revenue.
Through the Sixth Prince’s recommendation, Zhou Sui’an too entered the Ministry of Revenue as a Sixth-Rank official.
Meanwhile, in the capital, Situ Sheng—also a Sixth-Rank official—grew weary of the Ministry of Personnel’s tedious affairs. He petitioned to return to the Hanlin Academy for scholarly work.
But the Emperor, who credited him greatly for the downfall of Prince Tai, rejected his request. Instead, he was promoted directly to Fifth-Rank Assistant Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, helping adjudicate criminal cases.
Though only one rank higher, the post was no mere title. Those who served there gained real power and prestige, with future promotions assured.
This left Zhou Sui’an, once thrilled to enter the capital, feeling dissatisfied. He had been a magistrate, assisting the Sixth Prince with Jizhou’s waterworks. Yet in the capital, he was merely a Sixth-Rank clerk in the Ministry of Revenue, shuffling papers for senior officials. And Situ Sheng? He had only accompanied the prince on excursions and copied a few files—yet somehow rose to a powerful judicial post, commanding subordinates and handling major cases.
Zhou Sui’an, who had always considered himself equal to Situ Sheng, found this bitter indeed.
Chu Linlang, overseeing the packing for their move to the capital, tried to console him: “Why compare yourself to others? Compare with yourself. In one year, you’ve been promoted twice, each post better than Lianzhou. Such fortune is rare. Yet you brood unhappily—how ungrateful!”
Zhou Sui’an, tasting the exhilaration of rapid promotion, felt better.
To be a capital official required powerful connections. Half a year ago, he would never have dreamed of such a post. Now, as the Sixth Prince’s trusted man, his future seemed bright. Thinking thus, his spirits lifted. He spread his sleeves, sat at his desk, and began to play the zither.
Since that banquet where his playing was mocked as crude, he had revived his neglected hobby, plucking away whenever he had leisure.
Chu Linlang, busy directing the maids, found him in the way and told him to go to the study.
Zhou Sui’an disliked her lack of refinement and sulked: “Why not let me finish this piece before you tidy up?”
Chu Linlang ignored him, covered the instrument, and ordered it packed: “The capital summons you urgently. You leave at dawn. Go to the study and check your papers, lest you forget something.”
Resigned, Zhou Sui’an walked off slowly, twiddling his fingers in idle amusement.
The Sixth Prince had already departed by fast boat, summoned urgently by the Emperor. Old Madam Xie and Second Miss Xie lingered, returning with the Princess Consort.
Because the Ministry of Revenue was conducting its mid-year tax audit, Zhou Sui’an also had to hurry to the capital. He conveniently joined the Xie family’s boat, leaving the next morning.
Chu Linlang thought it improper for the entire Zhou household to crowd onto another family’s vessel, so she arranged for their baggage and family to follow later by a slower boat.
Madam Zhao had wanted Zhou Sui’an to take Madam Hu along, but he was weary of his mother’s meddling and preferred to travel alone. Before dawn, he slipped away with only his servant Manfu and two chests of luggage.
Madam Zhao, learning he had gone alone, grew angry. Suspecting that Chu Linlang had urged him, she scolded her daughter-in-law bitterly for not allowing them to accompany him.
Chu Linlang felt it was time to settle accounts with her mother-in-law. Otherwise, everyone would think the household lived in ease. Though Zhou Sui’an’s promotions were good, each move cost money. The stipends were token, barely enough. She had already lost money selling the Lianzhou tavern in haste. Every expense had to be carefully managed.
Thus, she could not afford the costly fast boat.
There was another hidden account: the expense of bringing Madam Hu into the household. Madam Zhao had secretly diverted the tuition money meant for Yuan’er’s schooling to cover it.
For this, Chu Linlang—usually patient with her mother-in-law—was deeply displeased. As she laid out the sums, Madam Zhao’s scolding voice grew quieter.