Speaking of Pei Jue, we have to go back another generation first.
Pei Shaohuai’s great-grandfather had two sons: the elder, Pei Pu, and the younger, Pei Jue. Both were legitimate sons of the same mother. Unfortunately, the title of Count of Jingchuan could only pass to one.
After their great-grandfather passed away, Pei Pu inherited the title, becoming the head of the Count’s household.
Pei Jue, meanwhile, had no choice but to focus on his studies, determined to secure his own future. Once the mourning period ended, he took the imperial provincial examination, became a tribute scholar, and then sat for the palace examination, ranking tenth, barely entering the second tier. During the New Year, the emperor issued edicts, and Pei Jue was granted the position of county magistrate of Wenjiang in Chengdu Prefecture—a seventh-rank official.
Wenjiang County was far from the capital, and it was uncertain when he might return. The brothers agreed it was best to “live separately,” dividing the family property equally between them.
So, Pei Jue went with his wife and children to Wenjiang County to take up office.
Because of the long distance, the families only communicated sparingly over the next twenty years, mostly through letters just to maintain peace of mind.
Yet Pei Jue did not slack off in Wenjiang. He was self-disciplined, diligent, and fair, earning a reputation for integrity. He gradually rose to prefect of Chengdu Prefecture, a fourth-rank official.
Ten years ago, when a flood struck Chengdu, Pei Jue was credited for his flood control efforts. The emperor summoned him back to the capital, and from then on, his career soared. He was first appointed Left Vice Minister of Works (third-rank official), earning the emperor’s trust and becoming a close confidant. He was later transferred to the Ministry of Personnel and is now Minister of Personnel—a real favorite of the emperor.
With a father like this, the family’s traditions of integrity and diligence were ensured. Pei Jue also had two outstanding sons: the elder Pei Bingsheng and the younger Pei Bingming, one a second-tier graduate, the other third-tier. With their academic achievements and the support of their father, their futures were promising.
Thus, in modern Kyoto, when people mentioned the Pei family, they thought first of Minister Pei’s household, the home of the three accomplished men—not of the Count of Jingchuan’s estate.
Some younger officials didn’t even know that, decades ago, the two households had been one.
Pei Shaohuai reflected: with one brother inheriting the title and the other forced to leave home, it would have been hard for the younger brother to accept without resentment. Over twenty years apart, never seeing each other year after year, with the elders deceased, any remaining brotherly bond had likely worn away.
Thus, when Pei Jue returned to the capital to take office, rekindling brotherly relations with the Count’s household would not be easy. The divide had formed early.
Such matters cannot simply be judged as right or wrong. At least in Pei Shaohuai’s eyes, his second grand-uncle’s long history of struggle and promotion was something to learn from. Only those with careful planning could seize their opportunities.
Inside the mansion, guests were already seated. The old countess suggested: “Old man, why not bring Huai’er in first, and leave someone here to keep an eye out? That way, no one can say we’ve been inattentive.”
Pei Bingyuan also said: “Father, please go in first. I’ll stay here.”
The old count, however, squinted, muttering: “Wait another fifteen minutes. After all, they’re family. They won’t leave us completely embarrassed; someone will come.”
The countess sighed: “Even if they come, what use is it? It only adds a bit of pomp.”
Just then, several carriages arrived.
The first carriage stopped, its curtain lifted, and an elderly woman stepped down, followed by a boy of about ten.
The woman was somewhat thin, her complexion slightly dark, appearing older than the countess. Supporting the boy, she cheerfully said, “Big brother, sister-in-law, I’ve delayed on this beautiful day. I’m late—punish me if you must.” She was Madam Wang, wife of Minister Pei, the second countess.
The boy bowed politely and greeted: “Respectful greetings to great-grandfather and great-grandmother. Congratulations to uncle on having a son.” He was Pei Shaoyu, Minister Pei’s second grandson, and Shaohuai’s cousin.
The rest of the carriages brought a group of women. Though there were over ten, the only male was young Pei Shaoyu.
After greeting, Pei Shaoyu’s gaze wandered and finally fell on Yingjie, praising: “Uncle has a beautiful little sister!”
No one else paid attention, but sharp-eared Pei Shaohuai caught it.
“Good, they came, good,” said the old count, still looking for his younger brother. “Where’s the second brother?… Oh, busy at court, I suppose. Important matters come first.”
Madam Wang smiled and explained: “He was about to come, almost on the carriage, but then called to the palace… We kept everyone waiting, and in the end, he couldn’t come. Truly regretful.”
Excuses, nothing more.
“Where are Bingsheng and Bingming?” the old count asked.
Madam Wang replied with a smile: “The brothers just started their posts; they’re busy too.” Another excuse.
The old count patted Pei Shaoyu’s head, remarking, “So fast! Shaoyu’s grown so tall… And Shaoye? Why isn’t he here?”
Pei Shaoye was Minister Pei’s eldest grandson.
Madam Yuan, Pei Bingsheng’s wife, stepped forward, smiling: “Uncle, that rascal Shaoye is like a delicate girl, stuck in the study every day, not stepping outside. He’s entirely devoted to preparing for the next year’s autumn examination.”
She then approached Lin Shi, holding her hand: “This must be the little sister-in-law—truly elegant, a fine hairstyle, simple attire.” She touched Shaohuai’s face: “Shaohuai looks just like his little sister.”
Lin Shi’s expression darkened, but she masked it in front of everyone, pretending to organize the guests. The countess and Pei Bingyuan also looked displeased.
Now, in Minister Pei’s household, the grandchildren were preparing for the autumn exams, while Pei Bingyuan, though the eldest uncle, was still just a provincial graduate.
After the midday banquet, many guests left. Lin Shi carried Shaohuai back to the room, placing him on the couch, and finally could not hold back her tears, quietly sobbing by the bed.
Pei Bingyuan followed and sat beside her, holding her close: “On such a joyous day for Huai’er, why cry secretly? Wipe your tears, don’t let him feel sad.”
Lin Shi felt comforted and wiped her tears, scolding herself: “It’s all my fault. It made outsiders sneer, and embarrassed Yuanlang and Huai’er. They looked down on the Count’s household.”
Pei Bingyuan soothed her: “Don’t blame yourself. These old grudges go back generations. Father wanted to reconcile with his brother. We, the younger generation, just follow along.”
Shaohuai understood all this, but he still found Madam Yuan’s snide remarks irritating.
The contrast between the Count of Jingchuan and Minister Pei reminded Shaohuai that to live with dignity and secure the family’s revival, he must succeed in the civil service examinations. His younger brother also must learn to get along, or else, like the Count and Minister Pei, there would be trouble.
“Wipe your tears and carry Huai’er out. There’s the coming ritual and much to prepare,” said Pei Bingyuan.
“Mm-hmm.”
In the main hall, a thick red carpet was laid out, surrounded by objects symbolizing different futures. In the center were books, ink, brush, seals, and a ruyi scepter. Moving outward were rulers, wooden knives, and even green onions. On the outermost ring lay gold, abacus, buns, and scales.
The grandparents’ intent was clear: they hoped the eldest grandson would choose items related to scholarship and officialdom.
Shaohuai sat in the center, the family encircling him, smiling and guessing which item he would pick.
Pei Bingyuan, eager, guessed: “This little rascal likes books. He’s already stolen many from my study. I think he’ll choose a book.”
Lin Shi agreed: “He flips through them on his small bed daily. At such a young age, it seems he understands.”
The countess said: “His forehead is bright—he will become an official. I think he’ll take the seal.”
The old count laughed: “Whatever he picks, it will be good.”
Shaohuai paused. Forehead bright? He quickly touched his head, thinking: Grandmother, don’t make me out to be a little bald boy just to say I’ll be an official.
After thinking, he carefully picked up a book and brush—exactly as expected—delighting everyone.
Old Madam Zhou congratulated the countess: “Master Huai picked the book and brush. Our household will produce a top scholar.”
The countess clapped: “Tell everyone, reward them with half a month’s salary.”
Thus, Shaohuai’s first-year ritual concluded.
Yet the Count’s household had another grandson, Pei Shaojin, born just seven days after Shaohuai.
That morning, the countess asked Madam Shen about him.
Madam Shen replied: “The old matriarch cares for the boy and keeps him in mind. Several days ago, relatives already visited Shaojin. No need to go to so much trouble; a simple family meal and visit to the ancestral hall will suffice.”
The countess praised her insight: “Very well, follow your plan.”
She then put a small golden lock on Shaojin, matching his older brother’s.
“Thank you, great-grandmother,” said Madam Shen.
Madam Shen, wise, understood the countess was not truly inclined to hold a grand ceremony for Shaojin. If she had, preparations would already have been made. Better to comply willingly than to resist.
Raising both children properly was what mattered most.
On Shaojin’s ritual day, he grabbed the seal firmly, raising it for everyone to see.
In short, the two grandsons each had their own strengths: one clever, the other focused.
Early spring passed into late spring. By May, the trees were lush, the sun warm. It was nearly time for Pei Ruolian’s coming-of-age ceremony.
Shaohuai’s first impression of his elder sister was that she was precocious and sensitive.
Perhaps because their mother had died early and their father paid little attention to the rear household, Ruolian had grown sensitive and meticulous.
She could have made excuses to skip visits, but she came often, doted on Shaohuai, and even taught Yingjie some simple needlework.
She was impeccable in every way.
Ruolian was well-educated, literate, and adept at bookkeeping. Since learning last year that she would marry into the scholarly Xu family, she had been even more diligent, practicing her small regular script with style.
Even little Shaohuai could not help but praise her.
That day, the old countess suddenly told Lin Shi: “You’ve been in the Pei household for some years. It’s time you learn to manage the estate.”
Lin Shi, surprised and honored, replied: “I will follow your instructions.”
“Good,” said the countess.
Then she revealed her intention: “On the ninth of next month, when Ruolian has her coming-of-age ceremony, you will handle all preparations. Go boldly. I will supervise.”
The responsibility of managing the Count’s household eldest granddaughter’s ceremony was significant. That the countess entrusted it to Lin Shi carried clear meaning.
Shaohuai silently thought: Earlier, the family spent lavishly on his first-year ceremony, inviting many noble families. The estate’s finances hadn’t recovered. Where would the money for a grand coming-of-age ceremony come from?
The countess letting Lin Shi handle it was essentially a way of having the stepmother provide the funds. How much to spend and how grand it would be—she was responsible.
Lin Shi didn’t hesitate: “I will do my best. Please guide me, Mother.”
The countess nodded in satisfaction.
Back in her quarters, Lin Shi settled Shaohuai and had a cup of tea to collect her thoughts.
Shen Momo came in, closing the door, and anxiously whispered: “Madam, this is a foolish task. If anything goes wrong, people will scold you as the stepmother.”
It was a thankless job.