In fact, Nurse Shen didn’t have bad intentions. She simply thought that Madam Lin was young and might not fully understand what the Grand Matriarch meant. She also worried that Lin would expend effort and money on this grand event without any benefit, so she hurriedly stepped forward to advise caution.
Nurse Shen continued, “The Grand Matriarch is clearly expecting you to pay for this entire coming-of-age ceremony yourself. If it goes well, no one may even remember your efforts. But if it goes poorly, people will gossip behind your back… And this is just one event. There’s still the dowry, the wedding… can you afford to cover such huge expenses?”
Listening quietly, Pei Shaohuai thought to himself:
This old woman may be annoying with her endless chatter, but her reasoning isn’t entirely unreasonable. If Lin takes on the coming-of-age ceremony, she will likely also have to handle the wedding later.
When Pei Ruolian’s birth mother, Madam Ning, married into the Anyuan Count’s family, she brought a considerable dowry, but during the two or three years she spent recovering her health, much of it was already spent. The few shops she owned in the city were in less desirable areas, so their real value was low. Only the rice paddies outside the suburbs had some real worth.
Even with all that, the Grand Matriarch had left everything to Ruolian when she married into the Pei family. The dowry alone was hardly enough to manage the upcoming ceremonies.
Pei Shaohuai, in the meantime, couldn’t be sure what his mother’s attitude would be. The original story didn’t even have this plotline—back then, the Grand Matriarch had taken Shaohuai from Lin, and the two women were at odds, so there was no way Lin could have overseen such a major event.
As for Ruolian’s eventual marriage, the original text only mentions in passing that she married quietly, without complaints, and kept her own counsel. Because Nurse Shen had previously served Madam Ning, Ruolian remembered her kindness and often had her husband assist her half-brother Pei Shaojin with his studies.
Now things were different. Pei Shaohuai had a new “heart,” circumstances had shifted, and the household was harmonious. While both mother and stepmother had their private agendas, they outwardly maintained mutual respect.
Shaohuai thought that if things continued this way, it would be excellent.
It wasn’t that he expected his elder sister to do anything for him, but if Madam Lin had the ability to help her stepdaughter, all the better. Whether it was giving a helping hand in times of need or adding extra support, good deeds are always welcomed. In a family, if everyone prospers and helps each other, things get better. If everyone struggles and envies each other, even a wealthy family can be dragged down.
With this in mind, Shaohuai resolved not to let the gossipy Nurse Shen interfere with his mother’s decisions.
Nurse Shen still had more to say. “Our Yingjie is truly your own daughter—”
Before she could continue, Shaohuai interrupted, pointing at the snacks on the table: “Nurse, nurse, snacks!”
There were no other servants in the room, so Nurse Shen washed her hands and brought the snacks to him, breaking off a small piece. “Take it slow, Shaohuai.”
She was about to continue, “Yingjie is really your full sister—”
But again, Shaohuai pointed and said, “Nurse, nurse, water!”
Seeing that the teapot was cold, she muttered, “These maids are getting lazier by the day. I’ll have to scold them another time,” and went to fetch a pot of warm water, pouring a little into a bowl and feeding it to Shaohuai with a small spoon.
This back-and-forth made her forget what she had intended to say. “I’m getting old. My mind is duller, words are on the tip of my tongue, and I still forget.”
“I understand your good intentions, Nurse Shen. You’ve always been on my side,” Madam Lin said. “As for this task from the Grand Matriarch, only about twenty percent of my motivation is because Ruolian lost her mother early. She’s a bright child who keeps her thoughts to herself, so I want to take good care of her. Since I married into the Pei household and became her stepmother, it’s our fate. I might as well do it properly.”
Without a mother to guide her, a coming-of-age ceremony is truly pitiful for a young girl.
Lin continued, “The other eighty percent is my own desire. First, I want a good reputation, so people won’t think I’ve treated her unfairly. Second, I’ve heard from Yuanlang that the Xu family is scholarly—the father, elder brother, and husband all well-educated. Among noble households, this matters. Yingjie and Shaohuai are still young, but in ten or fifteen years, who knows what the situation will be? Later, when Shaohuai studies, I don’t expect anything in return from her—just to remember and maybe help when she can.”
In this world, there is a divide between the scholarly elite and merchant families. Lin recognized that she was a link between the two and wouldn’t waste the opportunity.
Shaohuai marveled at how his mother, having escaped the vicious cycle of household politics, now thought so clearly. Applying business logic to human relationships—buy low, wait for value to rise—could work.
Nurse Shen didn’t grasp every nuance, but she understood that Madam Lin had made her decision. “If Madam has made up her mind, it is enough. I’ve spoken too much,” she said, stepping back.
Lin had been a little annoyed by Shen’s comments, but seeing her devotion to Shaohuai, she held back her rebuke, saying instead, “You are elderly and have served my eldest brother’s household. If I don’t understand something, I will consult you. You must manage the maids in the Chaolu Courtyard, since I cannot oversee everything myself.”
Shaohuai admired how his mother subtly delivered a lesson while still showing trust—essentially: “If I haven’t consulted you, don’t speak out of turn, but I still trust you.”
Shen smiled slightly and withdrew.
Lin planned her next day: she needed to go to the bank to exchange silver and prepare for all the coming tasks. She realized there was no one in the Pei household to discuss finances with, so she resolved to ask her eldest brother.
The next morning, Lin greeted the Grand Matriarch and mentioned her plan to take Shaohuai and Yingjie to the Lin family. Although the two families lived relatively close in Kyoto, the Grand Matriarch initially hesitated, worried that Shaohuai might overheat in the carriage. After a moment, she agreed: “Go tomorrow. Travel early and return by afternoon. I will also have some time to prepare a small gift for your mother-in-law.”
Lin replied politely, “Yes, madam, I understand.”
The following day, Lin set out early with Shaohuai and Yingjie. They traveled across Kyoto and arrived at the Lin family home in about half an hour.
It had been some time since Lin had seen her mother and relatives. There were tears and heartfelt greetings exchanged—words were unnecessary.
Once seated, Shaohuai silently counted the children in the family. His maternal uncle, Lin Shiyun, had quite a brood: besides his main wife Jiang, he had taken two concubines, and had six sons and five daughters.
Several of the children, curious and excited, swarmed Shaohuai, eager to show him toys—spinning tops, slingshots, Chinese puzzles, small porcelain figurines—piled into little mountains. Shaohuai could pick whichever he liked. The boys worried their toys might not be impressive enough, while the girls praised Yingjie’s beauty.
One cousin brought out an abacus, asking Yingjie, “Do you know how to use this?”
Yingjie shook her head, curious but unfamiliar with the black beads.
“I’ll show you,” her cousin said, beginning to move the beads skillfully.
The children played happily, while Lin and her sister-in-law Jiang sat chatting. Jiang said, “The two oldest boys are already learning to manage the family business with your eldest brother. The younger four are in school. Your eldest brother hopes at least one or two will excel in studies.”
She gestured to the daughters: “Your eldest brother has arranged for them to study reading, accounting, and arithmetic, so they will have skills and dowries when married.”
Lin asked how the boys were doing in school. “The youngest sits still and studies well. The others—we’ll see when they grow older,” Jiang replied with a hint of helplessness.
Lin changed the subject: “Your eldest nephew is seventeen this year. Which girl has your eldest brother chosen for him?”
“Don’t ask. Your eldest brother says to wait. Yaoer is mischievous; only a spirited girl can keep him in line. Who’s ever heard of a father looking for a fierce wife for his son?” Jiang complained. Lin felt awkward but knew her eldest brother was decisive. She conceded—he was likely right.
After lunch, Lin spoke to her eldest brother about the Pei family affairs: introducing the Xu family’s suitability for Ruolian, explaining that the Grand Matriarch had tasked her with organizing the coming-of-age ceremony, and seeking his advice.
“Of course, it should be done properly. You should add something to her dowry,” Lin Shiyun said decisively. “If your funds are insufficient, I can supplement them.”
Lin listened quietly. Shaohuai, a little toddler, listened eagerly as well—he had been only a college student in his past life, and now he had to learn about all these family and social strategies.
Lin Shiyun elaborated:
“The Xu family head may only be an administrator at the Imperial Academy, but that’s important. Students from the Academy are everywhere in the government—connecting one line can reach hundreds. Later, when Shaohuai studies, just finding a good tutor, this connection will solve many problems.”
“Marrying Ruolian into the Xu family properly gives them face. They will remember the favor, and when the Pei household needs scholarly connections, they may help. Likewise, if Ruolian grows up and meets the world, she can support Yingjie. This is planning for both children.”
He then gave detailed advice: which craftsmen to commission for hairpins, whom to send invitations to, and what kind of dowry would look most impressive.
Shaohuai’s little head spun. By the time they returned to the Pei household, he was so exhausted he fell asleep in his mother’s arms, unaware of the journey back. He only remembered that his eldest maternal uncle was shrewd and capable.
In the following days, Lin grew busy and couldn’t always accompany Shaohuai.
By now, Shaohuai was nearly a year and a half old. He walked and spoke more skillfully than most children.
He frequently ran to his father’s study—not out of affection, but to signal: teach me to read!
One day, entering the study, he exclaimed, “Books! Books!”
Pei Shiyuan had already lost many books to Shaohuai. Reluctantly, he gave Shaohuai a blank notebook, fearing he might tear or damage valuable texts.
Shaohuai flipped it open. “Empty, no! Change it!” He threw it back and demanded a proper book.
Pei Shiyuan, interrupted mid-article, sighed and handed him a copy of the Book of Songs.
Finally, Shaohuai settled down.
Pei Shiyuan intended to have a servant carry the child away, but Shaohuai pointed eagerly at the “Shi” character on the cover and looked up at him. “Father, what is this?”
Pei Shiyuan paused, surprised, and then smiled warmly, lifting the boy into his arms. Rarely showing such tenderness, he asked, “Shaohuai wants to learn to read?”