Silence fell instantly. Every eye fastened upon Zhou Du, breath held, as though awaiting the axe to fall. Whatever the outcome better to know than to suffer this suspense.
“Do you know what lies within these chests?” Zhou Du asked.
The stewards shook their heads.
“Ledgers and account books,” she said.
“Your work is remarkably detailed. One might almost believe no error had been committed… almost.”
A collective intake of breath swept through the courtyard. Faces blanched white as snow; men half rose, trembling, ready to fall upon their knees.
“I was raised among scholars,” Zhou Du said gently. “One saying I hold dear: We are not saints. Who among us is without fault? To err and mend therein lies the greatest virtue.”
Hearts rose and fell with her words. Many stood numb, staring blankly at the chests or bowed their heads low.
Zhou Du raised a slender hand and spoke calmly. “Take these ledgers. Cast them into the lake. Let them be destroyed.”
“As you command.”
What?
“Madam Heir…” A steward leaped to his feet, then fell prostrate before her.
Zhou Du spoke with quiet compassion. “You are capable men else this house would never have entrusted its affairs to you. Yet talent without discipline is like a fine blade without a sheath: it wounds others, and at last itself.”
“Yet the fault is not entirely the blade’s. Nor does it mean the sword has lost all worth.”
“You have erred but not beyond forgiveness. Therefore… I grant you one more chance.”
She had spoken plainly. No fool remained standing. All fell to their knees. “We thank Madam Heir for her boundless mercy! Our lives are yours! We shall serve this house faithfully unto death!”
Grace and severity reward and warning hand in hand.
A sea of bowed heads. Zhou Du sat upon a carved sandalwood chair, robed in pale purple Sichuan silk embroidered with golden lotus blossoms that swept the floor. A red beauty mark at her brow, her phoenix eyes clear and cold sublime, unearthly, and revered as a goddess.
That evening, when Gu Yanshan returned for supper, he spoke with sharp, pointed sarcasm. “Impressive, is it not? You have barely crossed this threshold and already you punish the oldest, most trusted servants of the house. Soon the capital shall know you as the She‑Tiger Mistress.”
Before Zhou Du could reply, the Marquis struck the table with a roar. “What concern is it of yours? Du’er is Mistress of this Manor! The household is her charge by right! She shall do as she sees fit! Eat your meal in silence or leave this table!”
Zhou Du was Heir’s Wife. This house would one day be hers. She was not foolish enough to harm its interests. The leeches draining the manor’s life had needed rooting out for years he had simply never found the time.
Gu Yanshan muttered, “How am I to eat with my mouth shut?”
“You !” The Marquis could do nothing with his stubborn son.
He turned to Zhou Du, his tone soft and warm. “Du’er… you have done well. Henceforth, the household is yours. I trust you entirely.”
Zhou Du nodded. “Thank you, Father.”
She was beginning to appreciate this marriage. No mother‑in‑Law to please. Authority handed to her from day one. Gu Yanshan kept in check by his father. No care of the Marquis falling to her. Good days lay ahead.
“Father,” Zhou Du continued, “Second Brother has already passed the Student Examination at so young an age clear proof of great promise. I bade my brother seek him a tutor. Word has come at last.”
The Marquis turned to Gu Yanchuan, eating quietly across the table. The boy bore little resemblance to him. He and Lijiao favored their late mother fair, delicate features, gentle and refined, as though born of a house of letters rather than nobility. Which was only fitting their mother had been the daughter of a scholar.
To see him grown so tall… the Marquis felt a rare pang of guilt. My own flesh and blood… and I have given him so little.
“An elder brother’s care is as a second mother,” the Marquis said warmly. “You think of everything. I stand ashamed beside you. Which scholar has agreed to take him? My gratitude to your brother for his trouble.”
“Wu Sidao,” Zhou Du said. “Graduated in the Twelfth Year of Xi’ning.”
The Marquis set down his chopsticks in surprise. “Wu Sidao? That Wu Sidao?”
Wu Sidao had placed Fourth in the Imperial Examination that year honored alongside the top three and appointed to the Imperial Academy. Upright, unyielding, and brilliant, he had been summoned to serve as the Emperor’s own calligrapher. Though not yet high in rank, he stood in the Emperor’s full favor destined for the Grand Council and highest office in time.
Yet fortune had been unkind. Barely a year into his post, his father died. He observed the full mourning period then his mother died. Six years passed. When at last he might return, his grandmother fell gravely ill. He had been devoted to her and so he had petitioned the Emperor, choosing to remain at her side rather than resume office.
“Wu Sidao…?” The Marquis’s joy turned swiftly to doubt. “Would he truly accept Yanchuan as his pupil? So many have sought him hundreds of promising youths. Can Yanchuan truly stand out?”
He knew his son was bright but such praise came from household tutors, eager to please. How much was true talent? How much flattery?
Zhou Du glanced at Gu Yanchuan. The boy’s eyes shone bright, hopeful and earnest. He truly hungered to learn.
“My brother is his friend,” Zhou Du said gently, “yet even he cannot speak for Master Wu’s decision. I sent samples of Second Brother’s essays and poetry. Master Wu found them promising. He wishes to examine him and then decide whether to accept him as pupil.”
Modest though her words were, the Zhou family’s influence was plain. Without Zhou Ze, no humble essay would ever have reached Wu Sidao’s eyes. The Marquis could never have spared such resources for his second son.
“Excellent!” the Marquis said, beaming. “Yanchuan did you hear your sister‑in‑Law? Go home and study. Strive. Prove yourself worthy of Master Wu’s instruction.”
To see his son’s promise filled him with pride. He had chosen well in this daughter‑in‑Law! A good wife blesses three generations. Even without children of her own, she planned so far ahead for her brother‑in‑Law what might she not achieve for the children she would one day bear?
The Marquis glanced at Gu Yanshan, eyes bright with unspoken pride. See? This is the wife I chose for you! And you foolish, ungrateful boy did nothing but complain!
Gu Yanshan, however, sat dark and silent his face heavy with unspoken resentment toward Zhou Du.