Sister Lan lowered her head, clutching at her clothes, too afraid to meet her elder sister’s eyes. She whispered, “Sister, please don’t be angry. I know I was wrong.”
“What exactly did you do wrong?”
Sister Lan stammered, unable to answer.
Pei Ruo Lian frowned. “See? You don’t even know what your mistake is, let alone how to correct it.”
With that, she led Sister Lan back into her room, closed the door, and prepared to give her a proper scolding.
Ruo Lian repeatedly suppressed the anger welling in her chest before speaking. “From what just happened, it’s clear how proud and reckless you’ve become. If I don’t discipline you now, and you cause trouble in the future, no one will be able to save you.” It was the first time she had ever spoken so harshly to her younger sister.
Sister Lan had thought her elder sister’s homecoming would be a chance to grow closer. She never expected that Ruo Lian would rebuke her so sternly over something so small. Before her sister even spoke further, she began crying again.
“Today, even if you cry as much as a waterfall, you will stand straight and listen carefully to me.”
Frightened, Sister Lan’s eyes welled with tears. She covered her mouth, too afraid to let a sound escape.
Ruo Lian said, “Jiao Jiao said—Jiao Jiao said—you should take her words to heart. Why can’t you listen to me even for a few sentences? Do you think I would harm you? Do you imagine that she’s just like you, having lost her mother early, sympathizing with you, and so you cling to her? Do you not know the story—the Liú family destroyed the first wife, drove her to death, and elevated the concubine to replace her? Jiao Jiao only lost her mother because of that… Such a reputation, such a household—anyone else would avoid them, and you go running to them!”
This was the part that angered Ruo Lian the most. How could the situations of the two families even be compared? This didn’t just insult Lin Shi—it insulted the entire Count’s household.
“I’ll tell you again: the matron of the Count’s household is the elder mother, brought here by Father through a proper match. Whether you like her or not, you must show her respect. I will not tolerate another word about the Liu family from you,” Ruo Lian’s voice grew sharper. “As for all this Jiao Jiao and Bi Bi nonsense, household matters are handled within the walls. At your age, to stir trouble… From today on, if any servant dares let you go to her, I’ll deal with them severely.”
Ruo Lian blamed herself too—she had always thought that being nearby would prevent any big mistakes.
But once she married, she realized there were limits to what she could control.
And now, looking back, Sister Lan had already become so headstrong.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes…” Sister Lan sobbed.
“This is your first mistake,” Ruo Lian continued. “You claim you want someone to cherish you, but you’re blinded by the romance in novels. For a young girl to say such shameless things, if word got out, would you even be able to marry? If you don’t care for your reputation, the other girls in the Count’s household certainly do… You have everything handed to you—food, clothing, comfort—doesn’t this household already treat you like the apple of their eye? This is your second mistake.”
“The third mistake, the one that saddens me most…” Ruo Lian turned her face away from Sister Lan, her voice steady but tight. “We are sisters. Tell me honestly: did you think I only cared about securing a good dowry for myself when I repeatedly brought you to Chaolu Courtyard, making you pay respects to the matron? Did you think I never considered your feelings? If your answer is yes, then this is not your fault—it’s mine.” She faced away to hide the tears threatening to spill.
Her chest tightened, her words coming in halting gasps from the weight of emotion.
“There is no one in this world who has been better to me than my elder sister. I only feared you would stop caring for me, so I could never have imagined thinking badly of you,” Sister Lan said. She ran to her sister, wrapping her arms around her from behind, resting her head on Ruo Lian’s back, sobbing. She knew her words had hurt her sister. “I was wrong. I’ll listen to you from now on. I will never go to the Liu family again, never read those novels again, never throw tantrums at home… Just promise to come back and see me often.”
Ruo Lian wiped her tears and slowly calmed herself.
She was not naive. She wouldn’t let this soften her resolve entirely. “Today, with the homecoming, some things were inconvenient. Another day, I will come again and speak to Grandmother. We’ll replace the servants around you, remove all those frivolous books. From now on, on the first and fifteenth of each month, and during holidays, you will go properly to Chaolu Courtyard to pay respects to the matron. At home, you will practice sewing, embroidery, and writing. If you cannot do these basic things, it will prove that your crying just now was false, and I will no longer intervene.”
“Yes, yes. Lan’er will do it,” Sister Lan promised again.
The commotion in Sister Lan’s courtyard did not escape the servants’ eyes.
Nurse Shen ran back and reported to Madam Lin: “Madam, the eldest miss just scolded the Second Miss. She also spoke some words outside that you should hear.”
Pei Shaohuai happened to overhear everything. He had thought Sister Lan’s mistakes came from impulsiveness and lack of love—like a moth drawn to a flame.
Now, he realized the source of trouble grew from deep inside her heart.
But his determination to prevent Sister Lan from making mistakes had not changed. Bamboo Girl and Ying Jie, the younger children, could not be affected by her recklessness.
“Who heard this?” Madam Lin asked.
“Besides me, a maid and two female servants. They are watching her and cannot tell anyone,” Nurse Shen replied.
“Those who can keep a secret, keep them; those who cannot, send them to the estate,” Madam Lin instructed. “Today is Sister Lian’s homecoming. Don’t let idle gossip spread.”
Nurse Shen protested: “Madam, you think of others, but you should consider yourself as well.”
Madam Lin was unfazed. “She has long had such thoughts. Today she just spoke out because she was upset by her elder sister’s words. What use is it to scold her? I cannot beat her, nor can I harshly rebuke her. My job is to prevent her from doing anything extreme that might affect the other girls in the household.”
Pei Shaohuai’s eyes lit up—he and his mother were on the same page. He also silently acknowledged that his mother was far more cautious than he was.
Madam Lin added: “While Sister Lian changes her attendants, place two clever ones nearby to watch her closely.”
“Consider it done,” Nurse Shen replied.
A few days later, Sister Lian and Grandmother had Sister Lan’s courtyard thoroughly organized, and many rules were set for her.
After this minor upheaval, the Count’s household returned to calm.
Grandmother began letting Madam Lin manage the entire household, including the shops. She kept the ancestral land under her own control, believing that this was the family’s lifeline. Even if the Pei family’s fortunes fell, they could still survive as landowners.
Madam Lin, initially cautious with the many shops, only converted a few poorly performing taverns into grain and cloth shops, increasing profits. The household was no longer stretched thin; each courtyard received an extra two taels of silver per month.
With these successes, Madam Lin gained confidence. Following her eldest son’s advice, she renovated the best teahouse in the east district into a small theater. The old teaware was reused, generating new business.
Lin Shiyun commented, “Other households opening a theater in the east district would spend a fortune building connections. You already live here, with a count’s mansion… How much can a teahouse earn?”
Sure enough, the theater’s business surpassed the old teahouse and earned far more than selling tea alone.
Grandmother had wanted to open a gold and silver shop, but Madam Lin persuaded her: “Gold and silver shops may look prestigious, but they only earn artisan fees. Plus, every official household has one. We don’t need to compete.”
Grandmother accepted her advice and opened a grain store instead, earning steady monthly income. She became increasingly generous toward her grandchildren.
Pei Bingyuan’s studies still showed no significant progress.
Sister Lan had become more reserved but remained at odds with the matron.
Aunt Shen kept Bamboo Girl and Ying Jie well-behaved, never letting them overstep. Bamboo Girl was lively and strong-willed but had been restrained by Aunt Shen from standing out.
Thus, Pei Shaohuai often saw Bamboo Girl standing obediently by Aunt Shen, her eyes darting around, scheming some playful mischief.
Master Huai and Master Jin continued learning characters and memorizing poems with their grandfather and father. Occasionally, they would compare who knew more characters. Huai usually won, though once, when reciting ten ancient poems, Huai lost to Jin.
He pondered: was Jin too diligent, was he too lazy, or was Jin simply cleverer?
On his fifth birthday, before dawn, Pei Shaohuai slept soundly as usual.
“Huai’er, Huai’er, wake up. Today is your initiation ceremony.” The room lit by candlelight, Madam Lin gently nudged him awake.
In ordinary households, children usually began schooling before the initiation ceremony. In the Pei family, the two brothers had already started learning characters. On Huai’s fifth birthday, grandfather Pei Pu decided it was time for their formal initiation—the Po Meng Ceremony, the beginning of a scholar’s path.
Rubbing his eyes, Huai rubbed sleep away as Madam Lin’s figure became clear. “Mother, should I go wash?”
“Yes,” Madam Lin said softly. “Father has gone to fetch Scholar Zhang from the Imperial Academy. By sunrise, the ceremony will begin. Huai’er, you must rise to bathe and dress.”
Scholar Zhang, a renowned teacher from the Imperial Academy, was invited as a guest to officiate the ceremony, not as their permanent tutor.
In the Great Qing Dynasty, reading was sacred. One cleansed hands and burned incense before studying—let alone for an initiation. Huai was placed in a large bath, waking instantly at the strong scent.
The water carried layers of herbs, pine, cypress, bamboo, and cinnamon leaves.
Madam Lin, assisted by Nurse Shen, helped Huai bathe thoroughly. “Wash well and absorb the scent of pine and cypress—this is the fragrance a scholar should have.”
Huai pinched his nose, thinking the smell would linger for days.
Finally clean, he donned a jade-colored robe and a scholar’s headpiece—a small scholar indeed.
He was brought to the ancestral hall, where he saw Jin, and noticed the same “scholarly scent” emanating from him, seemingly well-scrubbed as well. Huai felt reassured.
“I hear scholars bathe every day,” Huai whispered teasingly.
“Don’t scare me, elder brother,” Jin replied, displeased at being scrubbed awake. “Father doesn’t smell like this, so it’s just you scaring me.”
If it were him, the scent would be unmistakable.
Grandfather Pei Pu arrived, leading the boys in ancestor worship, praying for their success and fortune in studies.
After the ritual, the day had brightened. Father had fetched Scholar Zhang, and the initiation ceremony began.
Confucius’ portrait hung high, incense burned on the altar, and ceremonial treats were brought:
Pen-shaped rice dumplings, called “bi zong,” punning on “sure success.”
Square rice dumplings, shaped like an official’s seal, called “yin zong,” symbolizing becoming an official.
Victory cakes, paired with dumplings, symbolizing triumph in examinations.
Huai secretly laughed at the puns and symbolic meanings.
Scholar Zhang marked red dots on their foreheads—signifying the opening of wisdom—and led them in bowing to Confucius, reciting: “Is it not a pleasure to learn and practice constantly?”
The boys echoed, their voices small: “Is it not a pleasure to learn and practice constantly?”
Ceremony completed.
Afterward, Scholar Zhang praised the family: “These two boys of the Count’s family have extraordinary talent. They are promising scholars.”
While the family rejoiced, the boys whispered to each other:
“Elder brother, do you think these strange dumplings can be eaten?”
“If we soak the pen-shaped one in lye and honey, maybe it’ll taste good.”