Before closing her doors, Jin Niang had quietly informed Lady Wei and Dou Yuan that such matters should not be spread around, as it would only cause unnecessary panic. Even if nothing came of it, it would merely mean delaying things by a month.
To her surprise, after learning of this news, Lady Wei immediately took her son, Seventh Young Master Wei, to Luoyang in the western capital to see the peonies. No one suspected anything amiss, as Lady Wei was indeed famously obsessed with peonies, arranging for fast horses to transport them back and forth.
As for the husbands of Madam Qian, Madam Lan, and others—all serving in official posts—they likely had even more reliable sources of information and didn’t need her reminders.
That month, Jin Niang claimed to be recuperating from illness, but she remained busy with her embroidery. She was currently working on a lotus-seat Guanyin tapestry. The previous two pieces had been gifted away, so she focused intently on this one.
The only trouble was the overly vigorous brazier, which left her with a heated constitution—blisters on her scalp and lips. She quickly had chrysanthemum tea and dandelion tea brewed to cool herself down. Brother Ning, thinking it was some delicacy, clamored to drink it too.
"Mother, I want to go back to the girls' school," Sister Jun complained, bored out of her wits.
Without looking up, Jin Niang replied, "Last Mid-Autumn Festival, you were so eager to cut fabric for new clothes, only to abandon it for play. Now, you’ll embroider a shoe cover for me and sew a shirt for your brother."
"Fine," Sister Jun sighed, resting her chin in her hands.
Mother and daughter seemed to return to their usual routine—sipping tea, doing needlework, with Brother Ning practicing his calligraphy nearby.
Jin Niang also went to the inner gate to inquire about household preparations. Steward Cao reassured her, "Don’t worry, madam. The master has already given us instructions."
"Mm." Though reassured by Jiang Xian’s arrangements, Jin Niang still felt she couldn’t remain idle. She prepared some weapons for self-defense.
But when Jiang Xian saw them, he only laughed. "Silly wife, they’re just a rabble. I’m only worried about you getting caught in the crossfire. Don’t be too afraid—if they cause trouble, it’ll be at the government offices, not here."
Jin Niang let out a relieved breath. "I understand."
While Jin Niang and her family stayed safely at home, the inevitable trouble arrived. Fortunately, Jiang Xian and his men were vigilant. The intruders, disguised, caused a brief commotion before being captured without major damage. Only the government office walls suffered some harm.
Magistrate Wang, taking responsibility, allocated funds from the treasury for repairs. His efforts in quelling the unrest earned him a promotion to Pacification Commissioner of Qin-Feng. Soon after, Lady Wang accompanied him to his new post.
Madam Zhou, the fourth wife, was the last to know. She had been accompanying Lady Wang on a vegetarian retreat at Guangyun Temple and was stunned by the turn of events.
Even her usually obedient eldest daughter complained, "Mother, why must you fawn over that old Lady Wang, abandoning your own daughters?"
Madam Zhou’s actions stemmed from a book she’d once read—Magistrate Wang, though merely a prefect now, was like an old steed with ambitions stretching a thousand miles. In the end, he’d rise to become a grand councilor. Moreover, Lady Wang had favored her, even securing her recent role as a ceremonial matron.
But with Lady Wang gone, her patronage vanished, leaving her efforts wasted and her daughters resentful.
Madam Ji was no easy woman to deal with, so Madam Zhou saw little reason to visit often. Yet leaving her two daughters alone seemed risky. Having already paid the fees, she had no choice but to move in as their chaperone.
Life gradually returned to normal. By the Dragon Boat Festival, Lady Wei and her son had returned, gifting Jin Niang two pots of peonies. Sister Jun and Brother Ning resumed their studies, and Jin Niang began socializing again.
Then, scandal struck the Zhen family across the street. Dou Yuan confided in Jin Niang, "That Miss Yang happened to catch the eye of that scoundrel Luan. Upon learning her father was merely a low-ranking official stationed far away, he got ideas. First, he had my sister-in-law propose marriage—to take her as his second wife. My sister-in-law dotes on her only brother, so she agreed, knowing her mother-in-law wouldn’t object."
"But that wretch Luan didn’t stop there. He bribed Miss Yang’s maid and sent her an embroidered pouch with… indecent imagery. Luckily, I intercepted it."
Jin Niang gasped. The Luan widow next door was highly respected in the Zhen household for her chastity. "What will happen now? Will your mother-in-law send Luan away or dismiss Miss Yang?"
Dou Yuan rubbed her temples. "She’s leaving it to me to handle."
Jin Niang scoffed. "How absurd. As the elder, she should make the decision. Don’t you dare take this on."
Originally, Madam Zhen might have brought Miss Yang into the household to counterbalance Dou Yuan’s growing influence—or perhaps out of sympathy for her niece. But now that trouble had arisen, she was pushing the responsibility onto Dou Yuan.
Dou Yuan nodded. "Which is why I’ve come to hide here with you, cousin."
"That Miss Yang truly has had a troubled fate, but truth be told, she’s nearly twenty now. If she doesn’t wish to marry, she can’t keep living in someone else’s household forever. And if she still wants to marry, then it’s Lady Zhen’s fault for not arranging it." Jin Niang shook her head.
Dou Yuan remarked, "Exactly. Last time I suggested finding a matchmaker, they all looked at me as if I were their sworn enemy."
Jin Niang continued, "That scoundrel Luan Da ought to be driven out too. Right now, he’s fixated on Miss Yang, but who’s to say he won’t turn his attention to you all next? As for Miss Yang, she’ll likely have to leave as well, just to ease your sister-in-law’s mind."
This was Jin Niang’s belief—whether a woman married or not was her own choice, but she must be self-reliant. If she couldn’t stand on her own, relying on others would be a precarious way to live.
Dou Yuan clapped her hands. "Cousin-in-law, you’re absolutely right."
"Come, have a cup of tea. When the weather clears tomorrow, bring Sister Luo over to play," Jin Niang said with a smile.
Dou Yuan nodded and sat a while longer before rising to leave. As she passed through the inner gate, she spotted Miss Yang and curled her lips. Despite knowing that Second Master Zhen was already married, the girl still spouted lines like, "My longing for you is like the full moon, waning night after night."
As luck would have it, that gambler Luan Da was just the right tool. All it took was a hint about Miss Yang’s generous dowry, and he was eager to marry her.
Had Miss Yang moved out then, Dou Yuan might have let it go—she’d given her the chance. But the girl remained oblivious, continuing to stay in the household, even ignoring subtle hints. Well, she’d brought this on herself. Now both of these undesirables would be cast out. Even if Second Master Zhen found out later, he’d only scorn her for attracting the attention of a man like Luan Da. She understood men’s minds all too well.
Still, she couldn’t speak too bluntly in front of her cousin-in-law. Jin Niang was sharp but kind-hearted. Take that girl Ru Yan, for instance—had it been up to her, she’d never have allowed her through the door in the first place. That was just inviting trouble.
The Zhen family swiftly dealt with the matter. The Luan family gave their brother some money to move out, while Miss Yang—well, Lady Zhen, fearing Madam Luan’s resentment, promptly arranged a match for her: a remarriage to a wealthy household in Qingping County.
It wasn’t that Lady Zhen deliberately found her a poor match. For one, her father had only passed the imperial exams in his forties and didn’t secure an official post until nearly fifty. For another, her family could only scrape together ten trunks for a dowry—Lady Zhen might add a few more, but not many. And after the Luan Da incident, her reputation wasn’t exactly pristine either.
By the time Jin Niang heard the news half a month later, she was sorting through fine fabrics, setting aside the slightly flawed ones for gifts and having tarnished jewelry polished. Anything suitable for Sister Jun, she had her daughter catalog properly.
"You don’t have to carry the keys yourself—let the servants manage them. But you must know exactly what you own, understand? A single pair of these gold hairpins could feed an ordinary family for a year. Be prudent with your belongings; treasure them," Jin Niang advised.
Sister Jun nodded. "I understand, Mother."
She also knew the price of a bushel of rice, the commercial taxes for running a shop, when to start preparing New Year’s goods, and how to read account books. But these weren’t topics for discussion with her schoolmates. As her mother had taught her: Speak appropriately for the setting. At school, it was poetry and idle chatter; at home, she kept her own ledger.
Jin Niang then asked about school matters. "I heard Eldest Miss Ji isn’t attending anymore?"
"That’s right. She’s betrothed now, so it wouldn’t be proper for her to come. Second and Third Miss Ji still attend daily, but they’re just idling their time away. I caught up with a month’s lessons effortlessly," Sister Jun said with a laugh.
Jin Niang patted her daughter’s head. "That’s because you have good study habits. Even when you weren’t at school, you kept up with your readings at home."
This had been instilled in her since childhood: focus on your tasks, review your lessons, and only then may you play. Otherwise, you’d dawdle half the day without accomplishing anything.
Still, Sister Jun added, "Miss Sun, the eldest daughter of the Sun family, studies diligently—far more than the Ji sisters. We often joke that she’s aiming to top the imperial exams."
"All the better. A little healthy competition among your peers is excellent," Jin Niang said, always an advocate for constructive rivalry.
Sister Jun shook her head. "But she doesn’t join in polo matches anymore, nor does she ride. At first, she borrowed my horse or Second Miss Ji’s, but now she’s stopped entirely."
Jin Niang was puzzled. "Why is that?"
"She fell last time, so now she refuses to ride," Sister Jun explained with a shrug.
Jin Niang herself didn’t know how to play polo, but that was simply because she’d never had the opportunity to learn. At her age, being able to ride a donkey, play chuiwan (a traditional Chinese game similar to croquet), practice arrow-throwing, or enjoy board games like double-six was already quite an achievement. So when her daughter began learning horseback riding and was initially afraid of falling, Jin Niang asked Jiang Xian to spend several days teaching her how to ride before attempting polo, as the time allotted for such lessons at school was limited.
Giving up entirely would make it difficult for her to fit in later, especially if they moved to Bianjing.
But these weren’t the only things weighing on her mind. Madam Qian was also being transferred—her husband had been appointed as a vice prefect in Caizhou. Madam Qian had been one of Jin Niang’s closest companions during her nearly two years in Daming Prefecture, and now she, too, was leaving.
Jin Niang sent over a farewell gift and found the Qian household busy packing. Overcome with emotion, she said, “When I first came to Daming, you were the one who guided me. Now that you’re leaving, I won’t even know where to go for leisure.”
Madam Qian replied with a carefree smile, “Mountains and rivers may separate us, but we’ll meet again someday. Daming is prosperous, and you still have a year left here—it’ll pass in the blink of an eye.”
“You’re right. Take care, Sister Qian.” Jin Niang squeezed her hand before taking her leave, not wanting to intrude on the busy household.
Only after Jin Niang had left did Madam Qian examine the farewell gift—it was surprisingly generous: thirty strings of silver coins, two bolts of Zhejiang silk, six cured meats, and six tea cakes.
She glanced at the doorway and smiled warmly.
After bidding farewell to Madam Qian, Jin Niang’s thirty-first birthday arrived. Waking that morning, she felt a strange novelty—turning thirty hadn’t brought any drastic changes, except for the physical ones.
For instance, she could no longer pull all-nighters like before. One sleepless night used to leave her energetic the next day, but now it left her aching and sometimes nauseous. And where she once could shed weight easily by eating less, now the pounds clung stubbornly if she overindulged. Her previous weight loss had left faint stretch marks on her chest and thighs, and she had no intention of yo-yoing again.
It wasn’t just her—even Jiang Xian was prone to gaining weight at this age. Over the New Year, his waist had thickened so much that the robes Jin Niang had made for him strained at the seams. He promptly cut back on food, and now the couple had agreed to indulge only once a month.
“My dear, this is for you.” Jiang Xian presented her with a long box.
Jin Niang opened it to find a golden hairpin adorned with lotus motifs at the base and six delicate narcissus flowers trembling at the top. “It’s beautiful,” she said with a smile. The piece weighed four taels—likely costing over twenty taels of silver.
“I bought it with my writing fees,” he added hastily.
Amused by his nervousness, Jin Niang reassured him, “You didn’t have to explain—I wouldn’t have questioned you either way. Thank you.”
Relieved, Jiang Xian said, “Let me help you put it on.”
After dressing up together, their servants also presented gifts: Ying offered two gold-embroidered handkerchiefs, Xi Qiu contributed six strands each of velvet and silk thread, and Nanny Fang brought two boxes of longevity peaches and six plates of fruits. Even Qing Rong, Jiao Xing, and the others gave handmade needlework and shoe ornaments.
Sister Jun and Brother Ning also had their offerings—Sister Jun had crafted incense sticks, while Brother Ning presented a handwritten copy of The Wanderer’s Song.
That evening, Jin Niang added a few extra dishes to the meal, and so her thirty-first birthday quietly passed.
The next day, Sister Jun’s school had a break, and the Zhen family invited the local young ladies to a polo match. All the girls from the Wei family’s school received invitations, and Jin Niang sent her daughter along.
Meanwhile, Lady Ji invited Madam Zhou’s fourth daughter, suggesting they go together, but Madam Zhou was unaware of the event and later asked her eldest daughter, “Why wasn’t I told about this polo gathering?”
The eldest Miss Sun still felt a pang of fear at the mention of polo. “When we arrived, everyone already knew how to play—except us. I didn’t even have a horse. I barely managed to borrow mounts from Miss Jiang and Miss Ji, but then I fell off. After that, I refused to ride again.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Madam Zhou was dismayed.
The second Miss Sun interjected, “You were still in Guantao at the time—how could you have known?”
The Sun family had never divided their household. When Madam Zhou and her husband served as a registrar in Fuyang County, they were new to officialdom and too cautious to step out of line, leaving them financially strained. After Lady Wang’s departure, her influence waned, and without her direct recommendations, Madam Zhou could no longer serve as a matchmaker. Fortunately, in Guantao, it was customary for merchants to discreetly offer shares to officials, which finally eased their finances.
In the midst of all this, her daughters had been overlooked.
"You may not play polo, but at least you can go watch. All the young ladies in the capital participate." Lady Zhou hoped her daughter would master such skills. She knew her husband also agreed for their daughter to learn these things—not because he was particularly open-minded, but because he wanted their daughter to marry well. She used this to her advantage, striving to cultivate their daughter's talents.
Eldest Miss Sun, ever the obedient one, finally agreed.
The young girls who could play all took to the field, while Jin Niang and the other ladies sat beneath the pavilion, sipping drinks. Now that Lady Qian had left, Lady Ji was overjoyed, but Jin Niang and those close to Lady Qian had become thorns in her side.
Fortunately, Jin Niang was on good terms with the Zhen and Wei families, so Lady Ji didn’t dare go too far.
Then Lady Zhen remarked, "I heard Lady Wu’s uncle has been promoted to Chief Secretary of the Bureau of Military Affairs—a position that oversees promotions."
Lady Ji smiled. "Is that so? I had no idea."
Jin Niang found her obliviousness pitiable. Old Madam Wang had left without a care, but what about those who had followed her? If Lady Wu said a few words to her uncle, their chances of promotion would be slim.
Unless one was exceptionally outstanding, why would they be chosen if their qualifications were similar? With this in mind, Jin Niang remembered Lady Qian’s advice—to avoid meddling in others' family affairs. Even with Dou Yuan, she refrained from saying too much unless absolutely necessary.
Seated in the back, Lady Zhou dismissed the idea. How could Lady Wu’s uncle, a high-ranking official, base promotions on the gossip of women?
After the first polo match ended, the girls returned. Jin Niang had a maid serve Sister Jun tea and asked, "Are you hot? If so, rest for a while."
"A little. I’m only passable at polo—Miss Wei and Second Sister Ji are the real experts." Sister Jun gulped down a large cup of water before feeling better.
Though polo wasn’t Sister Jun’s forte, she excelled at croquet, even winning a prize—a silver hairpin adorned with a small blue bird. Jin Niang carefully stored it for her.
Watching her daughter’s spirited demeanor, Lady Zhou made up her mind. After the polo event, she brought generous gifts to visit Lady Shen, hoping she would look after her daughter. She even bought two horses, spending half of the two hundred taels of dividend money she had just received.
Her husband was only a county magistrate, and Guantao was not wealthy. Earning two hundred taels a year from dividends was already risky, done in fear of discovery. Recalling Jin Niang seated at the front during the polo match—wearing a crystal headpiece, a golden narcissus hairpin, and a pair of gold bracelets—she wondered how someone could be so bold, daring to take so much.
After returning from the polo match, Jin Niang resumed embroidering a Guanyin on a lotus throne. Most of it was already done, and by the seventh month, the embroidery was finally complete, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief.
Just then, the new prefect arrived—an old acquaintance, Han Xiao, who now served as both a Secretariat Drafter and the Prefect of Daming Prefecture. Since he was both a superior and a familiar face, Jin Niang naturally prepared generous gifts.
Ying took the gift list, which included a lotus-patterned mat, six tea cakes, two bolts of sheer silk, six handkerchiefs, a set of pig’s trotters, and two jars of citrus wine, and had Liu Dou'er deliver them.
Madam Liu had maintained contact with Jin Niang ever since Jiang Xian topped the imperial examinations in Kaifeng. But given their past relationship, she wasn’t sure how things stood now. One couldn’t assume familiarity guaranteed goodwill.
That night, Jin Niang asked, "You and Han Xiao were once close friends. How do you find him as an official?"
"Look at his age—already a Secretariat Drafter and Prefect of Daming. That alone speaks to his competence. We grew up together, and I always thought he lacked Second Brother Zhou’s talent and strong personality. Even now, I don’t see any remarkable achievements or strong stances from him, yet he rises the fastest." Jiang Xian was puzzled.
Jin Niang nodded. "Regardless, we don’t need his favor—just an honest evaluation of your performance. That’s all we ask. But…"
Jiang Xian frowned. "But what?"
"I mean, you were once friends, but now he’s your superior. The more respectful you are, the better." Jin Niang reminded him that officialdom had no room for friendship. What was once a brotherly bond could no longer be maintained.
Knowing his wife spoke for his good, Jiang Xian sighed.
Jin Niang smiled. "Actually, this is for the best. At least we know Han Xiao. If it were a stranger, things would be harder."
She comforted her husband until both drifted off to sleep.
The next day, when Jiang Xian woke up, he saw Jin Niang rubbing her ears and couldn't help laughing. "My dear, you nearly talked my ears off yesterday. Why aren’t you chatting with me now that you’re awake?"
Jin Niang glanced at him and said faintly, "My eyes may be open, but I’m actually still asleep."
This only made Jiang Xian laugh harder, and he playfully tried to kiss her. Jin Niang covered her mouth. "I haven’t washed up yet."
Perhaps because they no longer had to tend to their children these past few years, their bond had grown even stronger, often leading to such childish antics.
Meanwhile, though Madam Liu was young, she was the daughter of a high-ranking official—her father being the Minister of Revenue and her uncle the Chancellor of the Secretariat. She was well-versed in the intricacies of officialdom.
To maintain impartiality toward her subordinates, she discreetly sent Jin Niang a gift of Bianjing silk flowers and local delicacies, avoiding any overt meetings.
A month later, she announced that her residence was ready and invited the wives of the prefectural officials for a small gathering.
The rented house had once belonged to Lady Qian and was already well-maintained. Now, with the addition of a front awning and newly planted trees, its lush greenery made it even more vibrant.
Madam Liu greeted Jin Niang warmly. "I wanted to invite you all sooner, but the house needed repairs, so it took longer. It’s been five or six years since we last met—you haven’t changed a bit, while I’ve grown quite plump."
"You flatter me," Jin Niang replied with a smile. "Your slender waist is just as it was before. When Prefect Wang left, I wondered who the court would send. I never imagined it would be you—what a relief!" Arm in arm, they entered together.
Madam Liu had always lived in the capital and wouldn’t have come here unless it was to a nearby place like Daming Prefecture.
Jin Niang gave her a brief rundown of the local affairs. Soon, the wives of the Daming County magistrate, the registrar, and Lady Ji arrived as well. Tea was served, and the conversation flowed naturally.
However, Madam Liu’s next invitation took an unexpected turn: she proposed a flower-viewing outing to the Tonghua Garden, where each guest would prepare a signature dish to share...
Jin Niang wiped her brow nervously. She had no idea how to cook!
