Facing someone you dislike, even one extra glance feels like cruelty to yourself.
Yun Qiya couldn’t be bothered with Zhou Yuzhi. She rolled her eyes and turned away.
A beauty looks good even when rolling her eyes. Zhou Yuzhi didn’t mind her coldness at all. Shamelessly, he dismounted and tried to flatter her, hoping she would spare him another look.
The servant panicked, circling anxiously. His young master’s obsession with beauty was a flaw that would surely lead to disaster sooner or later.
“Stay away from me, or I’ll report you to the yamen!” Yun Qiya’s smile vanished as Zhou Yuzhi shamelessly followed her. “As an official of the Hanlin Academy, tailing a young lady in the street is what truly disgraces scholarship.”
“You misunderstand, miss. I mean no harm…”
Yun Qiya drew a deep breath, determined to swallow her anger and wait until she was home to let her grandfather and uncle settle accounts with the Zhou family.
She had barely taken two steps when she saw her uncle riding toward her. At once, she folded her arms across her chest, lifted her chin proudly, and straightened up with renewed vigor.
“Uncle!” She planted one hand on her hip and pointed at Zhou Yuzhi, lodging her complaint: “This man keeps pestering me!”
“Master, please uphold justice for the young lady! This scoundrel won’t leave her alone!” He Lu glared fiercely at Zhou Yuzhi.
With someone to back her up, Yun Qiya puffed up like a little peacock, refusing even to glance at Zhou Yuzhi—her bullying-the-weak, fearing-the-strong nature on full display.
Yun Boyan had just finished helping his niece annul her betrothal and was on his way to meet a friend. Seeing her harassed in the street, he leaped from his horse, whip in hand, and strode to her side in a few steps.
“Uncle Yun?” Zhou Yuzhi stared at the imposing figure of Yun Boyan, stunned for a moment before bowing with hands clasped. “This junior greets Uncle Yun.”
“Why is Assistant Editor Zhou idling here instead of attending to his duties at the Hanlin Academy?” Yun Boyan did not acknowledge the title of “Uncle,” his voice cold. “As an official of the court, your conduct is improper and your words unseemly. Tomorrow I shall memorialize against you.”
“Uncle Yun…”
“You are not entitled to call me ‘Uncle.’ We both serve as officials in the court—you should address me as Vice Minister Yun.” He gave a sharp snort. “Presumptuous.”
When you were betrothed to my niece, I let you call me Uncle without reproach. Now that my niece has no interest in you, a mere sixth-rank Assistant Editor calling me Uncle is shamelessly grasping above your station.
Yun Boyan left him no shred of dignity. Zhou Yuzhi’s face flushed crimson under the reprimand, his back bent, not daring to speak further.
Meanwhile, Yun Qiya cradled her cheeks, eyes sparkling as she gazed at Yun Boyan, her expression brimming with admiration.
Under his niece’s radiant gaze, Yun Boyan suddenly felt himself towering, resplendent, a figure of unmatched grandeur.
“Uncle,” Yun Qiya ran up to him, her voice soft and sweet. “Thank goodness you appeared in time, or I would have been bullied.”
“Do not be afraid, Yaya. Uncle will see you safely home.” Yun Boyan’s icy stare shifted away from Zhou Yuzhi, melting into a gentle smile as he looked at his niece. “If there’s anything else you wish to buy, Uncle will pay for it.”
“There’s nothing more I want.” Yun Qiya shook her head. “Uncle, you still have matters to attend to. I’ll return with Helu on my own.”
“It’s nothing serious,” Yun Boyan said patiently to his niece. “Come, let’s go. The Marquis’s residence isn’t far from here.”
“Mm-hmm.” Yun Qiya obediently followed behind, her eyes full of admiration and curiosity. “Uncle, the way you dismounted just now was so impressive! Aren’t you a civil official? How is it that you ride so skillfully?”
Her words made Yun Boyan laugh aloud. “If one cannot master horsemanship, how could one ever serve in the court?”
“Father often praises your calligraphy and poetry,” Yun Qiya’s eyes sparkled like little stars. “I didn’t know you were so skilled at riding too. Uncle, do you also play instruments?”
“I know a little,” Yun Boyan said, stroking his fine beard as the corners of his lips lifted.
“Wow!”
At her exclamation, even the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed to smooth away. It was only a small pastime, hardly worth mentioning.
Meanwhile, Zhou Yuzhi stood frozen, watching the uncle and niece disappear around the street corner. He turned to his servant and asked, “What did that young lady just call Vice Minister Yun?”
The servant forced a strained smile. “Young Master, she called him ‘Uncle.’”
“Then she must be…”
The servant forced another strained smile. “She may well be the Marquis Yun’s only granddaughter.”
Yes—she is the very fiancée who no longer wants you. And now that you’ve harassed her in the street, she will want you even less.
Downstairs, the commotion subsided. The man standing by the window slowly withdrew his gaze, returning to his usual lifeless silence.
“Master, the Lieutenant of the Imperial Guards has come to pay his respects. Will you see him?” A retainer approached cautiously and presented a visiting card with both hands.
“What use is it to curry favor with a man already at death’s door?” The man’s voice was weary. “I will not see him.”
“Yes, sir.” The retainer dared not say more, retreating with the card in trembling hands.
The teahouse remained lively. The man descended the stairs, passed through the cheerful crowd, and left. Even amidst the bustle, joy and merriment belonged only to others.
“Hahaha!”
Yun Qiya recounted to her grandmother and aunt how her uncle had descended like a hero, leaving Zhou Yuzhi too frightened to utter another word. The tale sent the women of the household into peals of laughter.
“Fortunately the betrothal has been dissolved. That Zhou scion is no worthy match,” the Old Madam said, her distaste plain. “Marriage is a grave matter—never to be rushed.”
“Mother speaks true.” The Eldest Madam comforted Yun Qiya. “In Great An, many women remain unmarried past twenty. You are still young, Qiya. Your future husband can be chosen slowly.”
And if no suitable match can be found, following the example of her cousin from her mother’s family would not be impossible either.
“After the meal, Yaya, come with me to offer incense before the ancestors,” the Marquis said, striding into the room. Though past sixty, his vigor was such that he could still climb a mountain and slay two wild boars barehanded. “At the very least, your great-grandfather must know that it was his haste in arranging the betrothal that wronged you. He should bless you more from beneath the earth.”
The Old Madam smiled without speaking, while the Eldest Madam pretended not to hear. The old man dared to say such words—she dared not listen.
But Yun Qiya not only listened; she also answered softly, “I’ll do as you say, Grandfather.”
The Eldest Madam lowered her head and raised her teacup. The Yun family truly inherited filial devotion—when the younger generation broke off an engagement, they still remembered to inform the ancestors with incense.
The Yun ancestral shrine was built in their native Guozhou, while the Marquis’s household shrine enshrined only their direct lineage. Yun Qiya had heard her father tell how their forebears were not of noble stock, but later rose with the founding emperor’s cause. Their ancestor became one of the five princely lords of foreign surname.
What followed was no surprise: some of those lords grew arrogant with merit, others were ensnared in struggles for the throne. In the end, most met ruin or death—only the Yun family continued to uphold ancestral glory.
Yun Qiya held the incense sticks, kneeling upon the mat as her grandfather murmured to the spirits. Which descendants had failed, which families had risen again in recent years…
“Honored ancestors, I offer you this incense. When you receive it, remember to bless Boyan with smooth sailing in his official career, bless me and Shuhua with health and long life, and bless the younger ones with peace and safety.” After a litany of wishes, he placed the incense into the burner. “Come, Yaya, bow to the ancestors, so they may grant you a clear path ahead and success in all things.”
Yun Qiya obediently bowed her head to the ancestors. *Ancestors, don’t forget to bless me with wealth overflowing as well.*
Grandfather and granddaughter made their wishes in full, watching the incense curl upward in misty clouds, drifting like auspicious vapors. Only then did they leave the small shrine, satisfied.
The smoke rose thick and steady—surely the ancestors had heard their prayers.
“Yaya, come here.” Grandfather pulled her aside into a corner and drew two banknotes of one hundred taels each from his sleeve. “Take this money and spend it.”
“Thank you, Grandfather.” Yun Qiya clutched the notes, grinning so wide her teeth showed.
Grandfather gave a discreet cough. “This matter is for you alone to know.”
“Mm-hmm.” Yun Qiya quickly tucked the money into her bosom, her round eyes darting warily around. “Grandfather, is this your private stash?”
“What does a child know of private money?” Grandfather tapped her forehead lightly. “I’ve arranged for two maids skilled in martial arts. When you go out to play, take them with you. If you meet shameless ruffians, strike them. If you cannot win, then run.”
“Alright, alright!” Yun Qiya pulled a jade bracelet from her pocket and slipped it onto his wrist. “Grandfather, I bought this at the jade shop this morning. The shopkeeper said this kind of jade is good for the health.”
The beads gleamed with a warm luster, fine in texture and pure in color—clearly of excellent quality.
“For me as well?” At lunch, he had already noticed his granddaughter had bought jewelry for his wife and two daughters-in-law.
“Of course.” Yun Qiya glanced furtively around, lowering her voice. “But the jade shop’s things were too expensive. I only bought for you, Grandmother, Mother, and Aunt. Father, Uncle, and my brothers didn’t get any.”
So among all the Yun men, only he received a gift from his granddaughter?
The Marquis gazed at the jade beads on his wrist, liking them more the longer he looked. Back in his room, he kept touching them, waiting for his wife to notice and ask.
“What are you fidgeting about?” The Old Madam set down her brush after finishing the last stroke. “If you’re so restless, go fishing with your old friends.”
The Marquis shook his arm.
“When did you start liking such things?” The old Madam spotted the jade beads. “You always said bracelets were clumsy on the wrist. What’s the matter today?”
“It’s my granddaughter’s token of affection. As her grandfather, how could I refuse?” He stroked the beads. “Look at them—aren’t they all pure and lustrous?”
The old Madam touched her own jade bangle. “Indeed, quite fine.” Though not as fine as the jade bangle Yaya had given her.
A bangle requires cutting from a whole piece of quality jade; a string of beads might well be made from the leftover fragments of her bangle.
Yun Qiya had been back at the Marquis’s residence less than five days, yet everyone in the household treated her with warmth. Even the main-branch servants greeted her with smiles.
Fearing she might feel lonely in her boudoir, the old Madam hosted a banquet on the third day of her return, inviting old family friends so Yaya could meet girls her own age.
Several of the young ladies were distantly related to the Yun family. After a few days together, they became fast friends, and whenever they went out to enjoy themselves, they never forgot to bring Yun Qiya along.
Song Daowan, the Eldest Madam’s niece, claimed publicly that she devoted herself to cultivation and shunned worldly entanglements—so she remained unmarried at twenty-three. Privately, she spent her days indulging in food and pleasure, knowing every entertaining spot in the capital.
“Qiya,” Song Daowan said, leading her to a secluded courtyard with a mysterious smile. “Come, I’ll show you a real treasure.” She had no particular faults—except that she could never resist treating beauties well.
Yun Qiya tilted her head to read the plaque above the gate: *Wu You Bai Huan* Hall of Carefree Pleasures.*
*Elder Sister Song… this treasure you speak of—can it truly be proper?*