The Yetting Pavilion sat ten li outside Yongqing Prefecture, a Taoist temple supported by the Marquis of Dingxi’s estate, yet its incense offerings were hardly plentiful.

A young woman was helped out of a carriage by a handmaiden.

The carriage bore the markings of the Marquis of Dingxi’s residence.

Five Taoist nuns were already waiting in welcome.

“Young Mistress, please this way,” they murmured.

** nodded slightly, proceeding under the escort of a throng of servants.

“How has Concubine Yi been recently?” she inquired.

The Abbess hurried forward.

“Concubine Zhou… is well enough,” she replied softly.

** stopped walking.

“I should go see her,” she stated.

The Abbess hesitated slightly.

“We must not disturb the Young Mistress…” she cautioned.

“Disturb me how? What could possibly disturb me?” ** smiled faintly.

The Abbess said no more, bowing her head to lead the way.

In the very last courtyard of the temple grounds, the door was locked. Two young acolytes sat by the entrance tossing pebbles, but they scrambled to stand upright as the party approached.

“Open the door,” the Abbess directed.

Someone stepped forward.

The door latch clicked, but before it could swing open, hurried footsteps echoed from within, followed by a dull thud as someone crashed against the wood.

Those outside flinched back involuntarily.

“Is Yunqi here to fetch me? Is Yunqi here to fetch me, yes? Yunqi? Yunqi? No, the Heir! The Heir!”

A woman’s voice shrieked wildly.

“Where is Yunqi? My son is the Heir! My son is the Heir! He’s coming to take me home! Open the door quickly! I am the wife of the Marquis of Dingxi! I am the Marchioness! Open the door, I’m going home!”

The door rattled violently.

** frowned.

“This is what you call ‘well enough’?” she asked the Abbess, her voice edged with displeasure.

The Abbess lowered her head in embarrassment.

“She doesn’t riot every day…” she mumbled.

The woman’s cries from behind the door drowned out their conversation; the door shook so hard it seemed moments from breaking loose.

“Open up, open up! My son is the Heir! My son! My son is here to take me home!”

The woman’s manic laughter erupted from inside.

** turned on her heel and walked away.

The others dared not linger and quickly followed suit.

“Young Mistress, should we inform Concubine Yi that the Heir has already…” a servant whispered.

**’s steps paused. She glanced up at the sky.

“It has been three years,” she murmured.

Silence enveloped the group.

Concubine Zhou’s frenzied shouting continued behind them.

“Never mind. Letting her believe she has a cold-hearted son is better than having no son at all,” ** said, glancing back.

If Concubine Zhou knew her son was gone, would her life lose all meaning?

“Let her live. It isn't easy to live at all. Those who can live, should live well,” ** stated, raising her hand.

A maidservant swiftly moved to support her.

The entire party swept away, leaving the noise behind.

As **’s carriage rolled into the Marquis of Dingxi’s estate, the managing matrons rushed forward.

“…We will convene the meeting after noon; you may all disperse for now,” ** announced.

The matrons curtsied quickly, smiling, as ** moved inward.

Madam Xie still occupied her own courtyard, but it was far more desolate than before.

Without the constant flow of servants, without vitality, the courtyard walls seemed to have lost their spirit, appearing faded and grim.

“Keep an eye on this. The New Year is approaching; this place must look refreshed and spirited,” ** observed, surveying the grounds.

The waiting maidservant immediately assented.

“It was meant to be renovated, but Madam said the noise would disturb her sutra chanting,” a servant whispered.

** shook her head slightly.

Stepping inside, the interior was even more desolate than it appeared from the outside.

The courtyard was deserted, so quiet it suggested no one lived there.

Even in the bright midday sun, the atmosphere felt unnerving, let alone at night.

When darkness fell, no one dared approach this area.

It wasn't entirely silent, however. Listening closely in the stillness, a faint humming sound could be heard emanating from one room.

“Mother, she still won't leave the Buddhist hall?” ** inquired.

“No, the Madam refuses to leave,” a servant confirmed.

** sighed.

She walked slowly to the window of a small annex and peered inside through the latticework.

The room was dim. After her eyes adjusted, she saw a woman sitting on the floor, her back turned, turning prayer beads in her hands; the humming sound was coming from her lips.

The room held almost no furnishings—only a small table bearing a Buddha statue, an incense burner, and two memorial tablets.

“How can she bear to drag this out?” ** murmured, shaking her head.

“Young Mistress, this is what Madam chose; there is nothing else to be done,” the servant whispered.

** looked at the figure inside. The woman’s posture was stooped, her hair entirely white. She recalled that when she first married into the household, the woman hadn't looked this way; it felt as if ten years had been shaved off her own life in an instant…

She turned away.

For those over there, simply being alive was a blessing, but here, perhaps death was the only release.

She shook her head and walked on.

Once they left that space, the oppressive sorrow lifted, and everyone's demeanor visibly relaxed.

With the New Year preparations demanding much, ** sat in the main hall, issuing instructions for household affairs until her throat was dry.

“The gift list has been sent to the Marquis; he said that the Young Mistress is to make the final decisions and need not show them to him,” a senior stewardess reported, holding out a scroll.

** nodded, accepting the tea handed to her by a maid.

“Where is Brother Huai? Why haven't I seen him for so long? Is he playing truant again as the year end approaches?”

“No, he finished his lessons and is currently practicing calligraphy,” the servant replied promptly.

** finally relaxed, setting down her teacup and picking up the account ledgers.

People moved in and out of the room, cautiously and efficiently.

In another courtyard belonging to the Marquis of Dingxi, things remained unchanged from before. The arrivals and departures were still composed entirely of young and beautiful serving girls, punctuated by the occasional delicate laughter of women.

“Marquis, Marquis, write one for me, write one for me.”

“Marquis, I want one too…”

In the study, the Marquis of Dingxi was surrounded by seven or eight women, sketching and writing, his face wreathed in smiles as he turned his head.

The woman beside him coquettishly offered him wine.

The Marquis drank it down in one gulp.

On the other side, four or five women were playing stringed instruments and singing.

It truly seemed a paradise, an abode fit for immortals.

“Fifth Young Master, Little Heir… slow down, don’t run so fast…”

The steward’s voice called from outside the door, interrupting the decadent sounds within.

“Father.”

“Grandfather.”

Two childish voices rang out.

The Marquis of Dingxi straightened up. The women quickly dispersed and stood aside, while the dancers and singers ceased their performance.

The Marquis walked out and saw two young boys standing in the courtyard.

“Father.” The elder boy, around ten years old, bowed respectfully.

“Grandfather.” The other, four or five years old, imitated the elder with proper form.

The Marquis of Dingxi laughed heartily and extended his hands.

“Come, come, why are you both here together?” he said, sitting down on a brocade cushion under the eaves, surrounded by colorful birdcages from which sweet chirps emerged.

The two boys stood beside him, one on the left and one on the right.

“Grandfather,” the younger one said in a childish voice, “Why must Brother Huai call him Uncle? Shouldn’t he call him Brother?”

The Marquis of Dingxi roared with laughter and lifted the boy onto his lap.

“Because he has to call your father Brother,” he explained.

Brother Huai looked slightly bewildered.

“Then why must he call him Fifth Uncle? Why not Second Uncle?” the boy persisted. “Brother Huai clearly only has one uncle.”

The steward coughed and beckoned.

“Young Master, let us return quickly; the tutor will call for you,” he urged.

The Marquis waved him off with a smile.

“Because, you see, you have an Eldest Uncle and a Second Uncle too. As for him…” he pointed at the boy standing beside him, smiling patiently, “he ranks fifth, so he must be called Fifth Uncle.”

The boy nodded slowly.

“Then why haven’t I met Eldest Uncle and Second Uncle?” he asked.

The Marquis looked at him and smiled.

“Because they, like your father, have gone on long journeys,” he said, reaching out to pinch the child’s nose.

The courtyard emptied. The Marquis of Dingxi sat alone under the eaves for a long time, unmoving, until the slanted sun began to set.

“My Lord,” the old steward entered, his frame slightly stooped. “It’s growing cold; please don't sit outside like this. Let’s go inside.”

The Marquis seemed to snap back to attention, sighing, and slowly stood up.

“It’s almost the New Year, it’s almost the New Year. Another year slips by…” he mumbled, his tone sounding half-song, half-sob, his face hidden from the steward as he stood with his back turned. “It passes so slowly…”

The lamps were lit inside the hall, and the music of song, dance, stringed instruments, and sweet female voices began to swell once more.

The old steward stood silently for a moment, then slowly turned and walked away.

“Indeed, it passes so slowly,” he whispered to himself.

A firecracker exploded in the night sky, signaling the arrival of the new year. (To be continued)