Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Six months ago.

Three days of relentless rain had finally banished the last vestiges of summer heat from the capital. As August arrived, the mountain’s autumn chill, like a murmuring stream, flowed down the gullies and spread across the fields.

Beneath the ancient elm outside the manor gate, golden elm seeds lay thick upon the ground. The fierce storm had stripped the old tree bare, leaving it light and unburdened, swaying gracefully in the autumn breeze, refreshed and invigorated.

Du Lingjing stood at the door, her circumstances far less fortunate than this venerable elm, planted by her father the year he achieved top honors in the imperial examinations.

She had been stranded in the capital for five days by the downpour. Though the rain had ceased, by her reckoning, she would not make it back to her ancestral home in Shandong before the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Steward Ruan suggested, “Since the storm has delayed your journey north to collect books, why not stay and celebrate the festival here? The second master’s family is in the old residence in the capital. You could have a proper family reunion.”

Du Lingjing considered this carefully.

After her mother passed away when she was five, her father never remarried. She had followed him from one official posting to another until they settled in the capital, residing in the old family home left by her grandfather. Her father’s career steadily ascended. The late emperor greatly esteemed him, often summoning him to his side during his final illness, and eventually promoted him to Grand Secretary of the Wenyuan Pavilion.

To become a Grand Secretary at thirty-six was unprecedented, even for a *zhuangyuan*.

However, after the late emperor’s death and the new emperor’s ascension, her grandfather also passed away. She accompanied her father back to their ancestral home in Qingzhou, Shandong, to observe the mourning rites.

Her father was originally expected to return to the capital after three years of mourning to resume his post. Yet, on the journey back, they were tragically caught in a flash flood…

Her father died unexpectedly when she was seventeen.

Before his death, he had arranged her engagement to Jiang Sanlang. Having grown up together, she had no desire to marry anyone else. But Sanlang, always frail, succumbed to illness before their marriage could take place.

That year, she had just turned twenty.

Her aunt, Mrs. Gu, had long been concerned about her being orphaned and then losing her betrothed, deeming her an inauspicious person.

Du Lingjing paid it no mind. Under normal circumstances, it would be one thing, but this was the Mid-Autumn Festival. Her sudden arrival might not be seen by others as a joyous reunion.

Du Lingjing declined the reunion, instead instructing Steward Ruan to prepare Mid-Autumn gifts for her uncle, aunt, and her younger cousins.

“...It’s been years since I’ve seen my younger siblings. I don’t even know their preferences anymore. And Aunt… I wonder how she fares these days.”

Mrs. Gu, Du Lingjing’s aunt, had suffered an accident while traveling the previous year. Though she narrowly survived, her severe injuries left her mostly disoriented and unable to recognize people, confined to bed rest, a shadow of her former graceful self.

Ruan Gong promptly dispatched a servant to inquire at Mrs. Gu’s dowry estate on the outskirts of the capital. The young man returned within an hour, his face looking rather peculiar.

“Is something the matter?” Du Lingjing had Ruan Gong bring him into the hall.

The servant, named Chang Pu, stammered, unsure where to begin.

Ruan Gong kicked him. “Just tell us what you saw and heard, from start to finish.”

Rubbing his backside, Chang Pu finally spoke.

“When I arrived, the second madam’s attendants were startled to see me. I explained we were stranded by the rain and asked the questions as instructed by the young lady.”

“They said the second master is at the family residence in Chengqing Fang, awaiting an official appointment, but no suitable post has emerged for months. The second madam is still in her previous state, though she fell ill a month ago and is even weaker now, sustained by costly remedies. The second young lady has taken over household management and also attends lessons at the Gu family, keeping her constantly busy. The young master went to an academy in Baoding at the beginning of the year and rarely returns home.”

Qiu Lin raised an eyebrow. “That all sounds fine. Why do you look like you’ve swallowed a jujube pit—stuck and unable to spit it out?”

At this, Chang Pu’s expression grew even more strained. Ruan Gong kicked him again. “What else? Speak quickly.”

This kick was harder, making Chang Pu stumble, and the words tumbled out.

“I was about to leave after asking my questions, but I noticed many trunks in the courtyard, all adorned with sparrows on branches and paired lotus blossoms—they looked exactly like dowry chests. One was open, revealing four bolts of bright red silk, as if ready for immediate use. I asked, ‘Is the second young lady getting married?’ But at that question, they all started to stammer.”

Ruan Gong and Qiu Lin exchanged puzzled glances. The second young lady hadn’t even had her coming-of-age ceremony yet.

Du Lingjing paused slightly. “Continue.”

Chang Pu hurried on. “Then the estate’s steward arrived. I didn’t recognize him—turns out he was sent by the Gu family.”

He said the man was named Gu Jiu. He first exchanged a few pleasantries, then remarked on the difficulty of travel due to the heavy rain.

“He said it would be inconvenient for the young lady to come to the capital, and that they could deliver the gifts instead. He also asked when we would be returning, offering to send someone to escort the young lady… Gu Jiu said a lot, but when I asked if there was a happy event at home, he denied it, only saying that the second young lady was nearing her coming-of-age ceremony and they were preparing some items for it.”

Finally unburdened, Chang Pu seemed to have spat out the jujube pit stuck in his throat.

“Young lady, Master Ruan, Sister Qiu Lin, isn’t it strange? If it’s for the second young lady’s coming-of-age ceremony, why wouldn’t they say so directly? Besides, they really looked like dowry chests to me. Could it be that the second young lady is to be married right after her coming-of-age ceremony? And if it’s such joyous news, why are they keeping it from us? As if we would bring them ill fortune…”

Before he could finish, Ruan Gong’s third kick nearly sent him flying out of the hall. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

Clutching his backside, Chang Pu looked aggrieved and stifled.

“Enough,” Du Lingjing interjected, stopping Ruan Gong’s fourth kick.

She nodded to Chang Pu. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’ve had a tiring trip. Go rest.”

Her voice was like the last raindrops dripping from the eaves, falling into a water-filled urn, sending gentle ripples across its surface.

But Chang Pu only grew more indignant. Whatever he wanted to say was silenced by Ruan Gong’s glare, leaving him to mutter as he left,

“Don’t take it to heart, young lady. It’s not worth it!”

With that, he scurried off, still rubbing his backside.

Qiu Lin sighed. Ruan Gong nearly chased after him for another kick, while Du Lingjing couldn’t help but curve her lips into a smile.

Qiu Lin huffed. “You’re still smiling, young lady?” She grumbled, “They’re treating us like thieves.”

Ruan Gong pondered. “Young lady, should we really avoid this suspicion? Should we go to the capital and inquire carefully?”

He wasn’t sure. In recent years, Du Lingjing had managed the family’s book collection alone, always adhering to the principle of avoiding trouble.

But when he looked over, he found her seated calmly, speaking deliberately.

“To understand a matter before avoiding it is to maintain peace. To avoid a matter without understanding it, however, is likely to invite strange and aggressive troubles.”

Ruan Gong’s eyes lit up.

This was precisely his concern. Whatever the situation with the second branch, they needed to find out the truth first.

She instructed him, “You go to the capital yourself.”

“Yes!”

*

As Ruan Gong departed, Du Lingjing sat beneath the eaves, reading for a while. The sky, instead of brightening, grew overcast, and soon a light drizzle began to fall again.

Qiu Lin hurriedly ordered the books that had just been put out to dry to be brought in.

“Your books never seem to get properly dried. If this were the south, they’d have molded long ago.”

Fretting, she supervised the careful handling. “These books are more precious than people—each bought at great cost, and older than any of us, some centuries old! Be careful not to bump or scratch them.”

The maidservants moved as lightly as if handling a strand of hair.

Du Lingjing chuckled softly beside them.

The Du family had been scholars since her great-grandfather’s time, and by her grandfather’s generation, they had produced their first *jinshi* (imperial scholar).

Her grandfather was a genuine bibliophile. Shortly after entering officialdom, he grew weary of its tedious formalities and resigned his post to return home, devoting himself wholeheartedly to scholarship and teaching. His students came from far and wide, and he became a renowned Confucian master in the region.

The library he built was named *Mian Lou*. Unlike other private libraries, *Mian Lou* was founded with her grandfather’s vision of making knowledge accessible to all.

When her father returned home to observe the mourning period, he further expanded the collection, welcoming scholars from near and far and opening the library’s doors to all who sought knowledge.

After her father’s passing, her uncle served as an official elsewhere, and she assumed responsibility for *Mian Lou*, focusing on collecting rare antiquarian texts. Each time she acquired one, it was like unearthing a long-buried treasure—she would meticulously collate, print, and publish it.

Her initial intention was simply to prevent ancient books from being locked away in obscurity. Unexpectedly, *Mian Lou* gradually gained fame, and in recent years, it had come to rival the great libraries of Jiangnan. Du Lingjing herself had unexpectedly gained renown among scholarly circles.

But *Mian Lou’s* reputation was not solely the achievement of her family’s three generations. Her fiancé, Jiang Sanlang, had also dedicated himself wholeheartedly to the library.

The Jiang family was a prominent local clan of farming scholars. In previous dynasties, many of its members had held high court positions, but since the founding of the current dynasty, their talents had dwindled—except for Sanlang, who stood out brilliantly, achieving the rank of provincial examination champion (*jieyuan*) at just sixteen.

Unfortunately, Sanlang had been sickly since childhood, and the rigors of scholarly pursuits worsened his health after his success. He had to abandon the imperial examinations.

Sanlang poured his remaining strength into *Mian Lou*, using the Jiang family’s wealth to acquire rare Song dynasty editions for the library and publishing them under the Du family’s name.

She objected, “This isn’t appropriate. We aren’t yet married—people will gossip. Besides, *Mian Lou* isn’t part of my dowry, and I don’t intend to take it with me.”

Sanlang laughed, coughing lightly as he did, and addressed her softly by the pet name he had secretly given her—Quan Quan. Once, when her father overheard it, he remarked, “Still water is indeed a spring; Qianyun chose well.” The comment had left the two of them blushing for half a month.

At the time, Jiang Zhuxiu (Jiang Qianyun) smiled and said, “Quan Quan, are you overthinking this? My purchase of Song editions has nothing to do with our marriage.”

She froze, her face warming. “Then what are you trying to do?”

Sanlang glanced at her with a smile. “I merely wish to satisfy my passion for Song texts by borrowing your family’s *Mian Lou*.”

In recent years, many had developed a cult-like devotion for Song dynasty books, some to the point of obsession. She hadn’t realized Sanlang had also caught the fever.

He continued, “I once made a solemn vow to collect a hundred Song editions and become the foremost Song edition collector. But as you know, my health hangs by a thread. If—just if—my time runs short, I ask that you, Quan Quan, gather those hundred books for me and house them in *Mian Lou*, so others may read them.”

His words proved prophetic.

In the seventh year of the Yin You Dynasty, just as she emerged from mourning for her father and three months before her wedding to Qianyun, he departed this world abruptly on a snowy night, leaving her alone in the bitter cold of the world…

That year’s snow was heavy, and *Mian Lou* groaned under the blizzard’s weight. Qiu Lin knelt outside the study, pleading, “Miss, you can’t shut yourself in any longer—*Mian Lou* is about to collapse! And Third Young Master’s books will be buried in the snow!”

Her grandfather, her father, Qianyun—why had they left her such burdens to bear?

But her grandfather had built the library, her father had welcomed scholars, and she couldn’t let it crumble under her watch.

And as for that vow—it was far from fulfilled. He had naively dreamed of collecting a hundred Song editions and left her half his fortune, perhaps expecting her to spend her life completing his task.

So she gathered her resolve, summoning her weary spirit to tend to *Mian Lou*, searching the wide world for rare Song editions on Sanlang’s behalf…

There were too many collectors fanatical about Song texts, and the books were priceless when they surfaced. In three years, Du Lingjing had acquired only seven or eight.

Then, news came from Jinan that a collection of Song books had surfaced. She immediately left Qingzhou to track the rare texts, and unexpectedly, one acquisition led to another—eight precious volumes in total—until her journey brought her all the way to the gates of the capital.

As rain threatened again, Du Lingjing wasn’t worried about retrieving the books in time. She gazed at the leaden sky.

“The river to the west nearly overflowed its banks earlier. Did anyone repair it after yesterday’s rain?”

Qiu Lin hurriedly asked around the estate, but the workers, seeing the rain had stopped, had left the river unattended for the moment. Just then, raindrops began stringing together under the eaves, falling in rapid succession.

Qiu Lin exclaimed. “Miss, are you worried that if another storm breaches the dike, our estate might be lost?!”

But the rain had already returned, and with few hands available from nearby estates, shoring up the dike in this downpour would be perilous.

Du Lingjing remained silent, deep in thought.

Qiu Lin frowned at the unrelenting rain beyond the eaves. “This doesn’t look like it’ll stop. Should I escort you and the books to higher ground?”

But the roads outside were muddy, and the nearest hills were some distance away. Just then, Chang Pu came splashing through the rain, overjoyed. “Miss, soldiers have come to repair the dike! So many of them!”

Chang Pu said they were from a nearby camp. “No one knows why they came, but at least we won’t be flooded!”

Du Lingjing paused, then turned to instruct Qiu Lin to prepare provisions. Once it was ready, she had Chang Pu prepare the carriage and went to the riverbank herself.

The rain sheeted down relentlessly, and the river surged violently, battering the embankment. If it gave way, the estates and fields downstream would suffer. Many elders from nearby manors had gathered, discussing dredging plans with the soldiers.

Fortunately, by the time Du Lingjing arrived, a solution had been agreed upon—though it would take time. Seizing a lull in the work, she distributed the food and tea.

She didn’t mention her family name, simply introducing herself as a local and preparing to leave. But the carriage wheels sank into the mud, forcing her to step down briefly.

The moment she did, she felt a gaze settle on her from across the river.

She turned slightly.

The rain hung like a damp curtain, blurring distant vision.

On the high embankment opposite stood a man clad entirely in dark brocade. The fabric’s luster was muted by the rain, but the jet-black jade belt cinched at his narrow waist gleamed all the more strikingly.

Beneath a broad umbrella, his gaze cut through the rain, fixing on her as if rooted.

Yet Du Lingjing found no familiarity in his faintly visible features.

She didn’t recognize him and turned to ask, “Aside from the officers and soldiers from the nearby camp, are there any other…”

The man across the river carried himself with an air of nobility, standing ahead of his retinue. She hesitated. “…any other distinguished guests present?”

Qiu Lin, who had just delivered the food, had inquired discreetly.

“Miss, that man is likely…” She lowered her voice slightly. “The Marquis of Yongding.”

“The commander of the Yongding Army from the northwest?” Du Lingjing arched a brow. “Lu Shenru, Marquis of Yongding?”

Qiu Lin confirmed in a hushed tone. “They say the Imperial Noble Consort recently took Prince Hui to a retreat for Buddhist rites. But with the Mid-Autumn Festival approaching, they must return to the palace before then. If the dike breaks and the bridge is destroyed, their party won’t make it back.”

“So Marquis Lu dispatched troops to prevent that?”

Qiu Lin nodded.

Noble Consort Lu was from the Lu family of Yongding Marquisate—the elder sister of this young marquis.

The matter involved imperial nobility, so Du Lingjing asked no further.

As for this Marquis Lu—a frontier commander and close imperial confidant—at just twenty-five, he already held unparalleled authority among military leaders.

Du Lingjing had never met him before, and she had no intention of befriending such a man of immense power.

The downpour blurred the distance, but just as the carriage managed to pull free from the mud, she climbed back in and rode off into the storm.

The carriage gradually disappeared into the distance, the sound of hooves drowned out until only a faint silhouette remained among the trees, drifting like a leaf before vanishing into the wind and rain.

The levee work was nearly done when a general came forward to report, "Marquis, there’s no need to worry—this dam is secure now." He added, "Once the rain stops, I’ll inspect the bridge again. Her Majesty and Prince Hui will surely cross safely."

Unsure whether his words satisfied the Marquis, the general snuck a look at him.

He noticed the Marquis standing with his hands behind his back, staring toward the woods on the opposite bank as if fixated on something. Just as he hesitated whether to ask, the man’s gaze slowly withdrew.

When the Marquis had arrived, his expression had been indifferent, but now the general could clearly see a soft warmth with quiet pleasure in his eyes.

He spoke in a low, measured tone, "I appreciate your work. The soldiers have worked hard—not only ensuring the safety of the imperial family but also solving the people’s immediate crisis. I will commend your merits before His Majesty, and this winter’s coal and grain rations will be doubled."

His voice was unusually deep and rough, and the soldiers had initially assumed this Marquis would be distant and overbearing. To their surprise, his words were deliberate and considerate, securing rewards for both officers and men alike.

Overjoyed, they exclaimed, "We're grateful for your kindness, Marquis! We are at your command!"

The man brushed off their thanks with a wave and signaled his attendants to stay and assist. "I'll take my leave now."

The more courteous he was, the more they were all the more careful to show respect.

The general hurried to escort him, but the Marquis raised a hand to stop him.

As the Marquis of Yongding turned to leave, his gaze—for some reason—seemed to linger once more on the distant woods across the river.

*

Capital.

Rain pounded violently against the window lattice, making it hard for Ruan Gong to hear the other man’s words.

"What did you just say about the Du family’s impending good fortune? When?"

Seeing his troubled expression, the man raised his voice and repeated, "Within ten days! I said within ten days, the Du family will shoot up in status because of this joyous occasion!"

A joyous occasion—something that should bring happiness to all.

But Ruan Gong’s face turned ashen, his heart pounding uncontrollably as a clammy sweat broke out on his back.