Chapter 1

Year Three of Great Yue, a time when all things awaited revival.

It was late July, the heat slowly dissipating, and the Reed Marsh Village already hinted at the coming autumn.

Zhu Xuan’s birthday fell on July thirtieth—after this day, she would be exactly six years old, and the township school opened on the first of August.

By the laws of Great Yue, all children nationwide, regardless of gender, could attend the township school to begin their education upon reaching six years old. The opening period lasted three years, and the Emperor’s eldest daughter, Princess Zhen Guo, called it “three years of compulsory education.”

One day apart—everyone said Zhu Xuan was born on the perfect day.

Though Great Yue had only stood for three years, Reed Marsh Village had practiced “three years of compulsory education” for nearly seven or eight years. The reason was simple: Reed Marsh Village, though neither large nor small, belonged to Yangzhou Prefecture, which, along with more than a dozen cities north and south of the Yangtze, was under Southern Direct Administration.

Southern Direct Administration was the first territory the Emperor of Great Yue claimed before founding the nation, bearing witness to his rise from rebel leader to King of Yue, and eventually, to emperor.

Zhu Xuan was the second daughter in her family, with a pair of elder siblings above her.

Her eldest brother, Zhu Tang, was twelve this year. As the first son, the family had considered supporting him to become a scholar. Elementary education cost little, but preparing for the imperial exams and entering private tutors' schools demanded far more, and nurturing a true scholar was no easy feat.

Thus, after finishing elementary education, Zhu Tang was sent for two years of study under an old scholar in a private school. Yet, lacking academic aptitude, he did not continue. Now, he worked at home, hoping to apprentice in town when the family had time.

Her eldest sister, Zhu Lian, had just turned nine. She was finishing her third year of elementary education, and next year would no longer have to attend school. For now, she stayed home to help their expectant mother with household chores and learn weaving and embroidery.

Below Zhu Xuan was her four-year-old sister, Zhu Ying, and a little brother, Zhu Di, just over a year old. Their mother, Shen Yun, was also six months pregnant.

Reed Marsh Village belonged to Ninghai County, at the northeastern corner of Yangzhou Prefecture. Reed Marsh Village and five similar villages formed a township called Qingyang, where the school stood.

As the name suggested, Reed Marsh Village had many reed marshes. The settlement leaned against a great lake; the shore was lined with reeds, their heads swaying poetically in the dusk.

Zhu Xuan sat on the dry grass at the lake’s edge with her four-year-old sister, weaving reed heads for fun. The two little girls sent fluff flying everywhere.

Zhu Xuan tugged at the reeds, her lips pursed in annoyance. Her birthday was near, and she’d expressed to her mother Shen Yun her wish for a new dress—something fresh for starting school. Shen Yun, busy and heavy with child, dismissed her request as childish trouble.

She didn’t get the new dress, only her mother’s retort: “New dress? You look just like a new dress!”

Zhu Xuan felt aggrieved. Born in the middle, she had never worn a single new garment.

Her clothes came half-worn from Zhu Lian, then fully worn to Zhu Ying. But Zhu Ying, though handed old clothes, sometimes had new ones, since by the time they reached her, the old ones were too ragged.

“Sister Xuan, will Father really come home today?” Zhu Ying’s hair was tied in two little buns, with stray strands at the back—Zhu Xuan had tied them, not very skillfully.

Zhu Xuan played with the reeds as her frustration faded. She and her sister had come to the lakeside to relax and wait for their father.

Her eyes wandered to the shore, uncertainty creeping in, but she assured her sister, “He will. Yesterday, Grandma and Grandpa went to buy meat. I heard them say Father wrote that he’d return. Counting the days, he should arrive these two days—if not today, then tomorrow.”

Zhu Ying answered with an “oh” and returned to play, both children soon forgetting they were waiting for the ferry.

Their father, Zhu Ming, did not stay at home to farm with Grandpa and Grandma. He traveled far—so far that even Yangzhou Prefecture couldn’t keep him. He ventured all the way to Yingtian Prefecture for work.

What exactly Zhu Ming did in Yingtian, Zhu Xuan was unsure. Some said he was a carpenter, some said he worked at the docks, others claimed he learned painting.

As the two girls forgot about waiting, a ferry boat drifted across the lake.

Their father, Zhu Ming, stood at the bow. Zhu Xuan’s keen eyes recognized him from afar, and she shouted excitedly, “Fa—ther—!”

Hearing her sister, Zhu Ying joined in, “Fa—ther—!” She was young and barely remembered, and with Father returning rarely, she was unsure if the man on the boat was indeed their father.

The old ferryman rowed with effort, and the sisters heard only the sound of oars striking water.

With stroke after stroke, the ferryman brought Zhu Ming ashore. Zhu Ming wore dark blue short clothes, carrying a huge basket stuffed with goods, with a cover to shield from rain and hooks for a kerosene lamp—a traveler’s perfect companion, woven by Grandpa himself.

He also carried bundles in his hands.

From a distance, Zhu Ming spotted his two lively daughters. As soon as he stepped ashore, Zhu Xuan dashed into his arms like a flying cannonball. After half a year away, Zhu Ming felt his second daughter had grown heavier.

He set down his bundles and swept Zhu Xuan up with one arm. She sat on his elbow, hugging him and laughing.

---

Zhu Xuan was the child who most resembled Zhu Ming—clear brows, delicate skin, like a child from a New Year’s painting.

Her hair was tied in two buns with red ribbons, larger and neater than Zhu Ying’s—thanks to the skillful hands of Zhu Lian.

Zhu Ying did not rush to her father but circled him warily like a puppy, sizing up this man.

Zhu Ming was tall and handsome, his looks outstanding even in Qingyang Town, let alone Reed Marsh Village. In youth, his jet-black hair shone like satin, his eyes bright and clear. Even as the father of five, his gaze retained a sparkling radiance.

Zhu Ying looked up at this striking man. He bent down, smiling at her, his eyes bright as stars on a cold night. “Ying, do you not remember me?”

After careful observation and vague memory, Zhu Ying recognized this beautiful man as her father and called out crisply, “Father.”

Zhu Ming set Zhu Xuan down and lifted Zhu Ying.

With all his baggage, Zhu Ming had no free hand to hold his daughters. Zhu Xuan tugged at his clothes, Zhu Ying held her sister’s hand, and the three walked home together.

Along the way, Zhu Ying quietly gripped her sister’s hand, secretly observing “Father” from behind, while Zhu Xuan chattered, holding onto his sleeve.

“The old sow gave birth!”

“Mm.”

“Eleven in one litter. I watched.”

“Mm.”

“Grandma kept two piglets, sold the rest.”

“Mm.”

“Father, are you listening?”

“I am. Keep talking.”

...

After a while, they reached the Zhu home.

Homes in Reed Marsh Village were scattered. The Zhu family lived by the water, in a spacious, standalone house.

The path to the door was paved with stones Grandpa had carried from the riverbank.

Beside the house were several mulberry trees, bearing fruit. There was also a huge mimosa tree, its feathery blossoms covering half the branches. Behind the house stood six ginkgo trees, their green tinged with gold. The vegetable garden yielded melons, fruits, and all sorts of produce.

The yard’s fence was reed stalks, meant only to keep the chickens from wandering out.

The gate was peachwood, crafted and oiled by Grandpa, with a pair of door gods pasted—neither new nor old.

Inside, the open yard served as a drying ground for grain, paved with river stones.

The Zhu home had two rows of buildings—one thatched cottage on the east, where Grandpa and Grandma lived, the roof thick with straw for warmth in winter and coolness in summer, with an osmanthus tree beside it.

The other was a large brick house with black tiles, built after Zhu Ming married; his family lived there, with gardenia and cockscomb in front.

There was a well out front, and behind the house, the pigpen, cowshed, and chicken coop were neatly arranged.

Grandpa was sixty, and Grandma, Madam Sun, had only Zhu Ming as a son. Zhu Xuan had an older aunt, Zhu Qing, not their biological daughter, married to a butcher in town, who often brought meat when visiting the elderly couple.

When Grandpa and Grandma first married, they were young and childless. Aunt Zhu Qing’s parents couldn’t afford to raise her, so the couple adopted her. People believed that adopting a girl would bring luck for future children.

Sure enough, after Aunt Zhu Qing joined, the couple had four sons in succession. Yet, in tumultuous times, the eldest three were conscripted and died young, leaving only the youngest, Zhu Ming.

Zhu Ming inherited his parents’ best traits, handsome beyond compare. As the sole heir, Grandpa and Grandma doted on him, indulging his restless spirit.

Fortunately, after the King of Yue arrived, the region revived under his rule, no longer suffering endless chaos. With three fallen brothers ahead, Zhu Ming was spared conscription.

---

Prosperity gradually returned to the Zhu household.

Grandpa sent Zhu Ming to school for two years and apprenticed him as a carpenter for one. He learned various crafts, but only superficially.

Then Zhu Ming secretly studied painting with a monk at the wild temple. He became deeply passionate, mastering fine brushwork and excelling at painting figures—be it the goddess Chang’e or fierce demons, villagers found his art lifelike.

It was said the monk was a court artist of the previous dynasty. No one knew his worldly name or why he secluded himself in that temple. Zhu Ming studied with him for three years before the monk died, leaving Zhu Ming talented but still unrefined, lacking his teacher’s essence.

Learning to paint was difficult—he had no good pigments or paper, and much of his early practice was on coarse straw paper.

Yet his mind broadened with the monk’s guidance. After marrying and fathering Zhu Tang, he resolved to travel for a living. He yearned for his work to appear on fine paper, not just straw sheets, so neither Reed Marsh Village nor his parents could keep him home.

What Zhu Ming did in Yingtian to earn a living was unclear, but he sent silver home each year for the family. Fellow villagers who traveled with him said he made decent money from odd jobs, though most of it was spent on pigments and paper; only the household funds were steady.

With Zhu Ming away earning, the farming fell to Grandpa and Grandma. The Zhu family owned nine and a half acres, and Grandpa, robust and energetic, managed it all.

During the slow season, he did carpentry, built walls, wove reed mats, made paper kites, and crafted straw sandals—anything that could earn money.

Grandma, Madam Sun, was a skilled housekeeper, adept at raising pigs and chickens, growing vegetables, and farming. Her cooking was precise—no matter how many ate, she prepared just enough rice, never leaving anyone hungry or wasting food. Even the rice shop’s measuring scoop wasn’t as sharp as her eye.

Zhu Ming’s wife, Shen Yun, was no slouch either, skilled at embroidery and weaving.

With capable adults, even if Zhu Ming was somewhat flighty, he wasn’t a wastrel. The family wasn’t wealthy, but the children were all raised healthy and tender-skinned.

Zhu Ming’s last visit home had been half a year ago. He stayed for half a month, long enough for Shen Yun to become pregnant again. Now, returning with two daughters, he saw his wife busy in the kitchen, her belly well advanced.

“Ah Yun, I’m home!”

He stood there, smiling at his wife. Shen Yun looked up to find her husband at the door, lips red, teeth white, and smiled back. The couple barely had time for affection before the rest of the family, drawn by the commotion, came to greet him, asking questions.

“How did you get back?” Madam Sun took her son’s hand.

“By boat. First a big boat, then overland, then the ferry at the dock.”

“Any new business in Yingtian?” Grandpa helped him with the basket.

Zhu Ming only smiled, saying nothing. Grandpa didn’t press, simply said, “If you bring money home, you’re a man; I won’t ask.”

“Father, any fresh news from Yingtian?” Zhu Tang, tanned from farm work, already showed a handsome young face resembling his father.

“Father, were things smooth outside?” Zhu Lian crowded in.

Little Zhu Di, only a year and a half old, didn’t recognize his father and just stared with his mouth open.

Zhu Xuan had spoken all the way home and had no more to say; Zhu Ying had secretly watched her father enough.

After chatting a while, Zhu Xuan cared only about dinner. Seeing her mother chopping meat, she knew there would be meat in the meal, and secretly swallowed her drool.

Suddenly, Zhu Ming remarked, “Xuan was born perfectly—just old enough to start school before the term begins. Had she been born a few days later, she’d have to wait another year.”

Zhu Xuan paused, for she had little concept of attending school. When she asked her siblings who had gone before, they said it wasn’t much, and the teacher liked scolding and rapping hands.

Even so, to Zhu Xuan, the idea of school was fresh and a little exciting.

Though, at the moment, her anticipation paled in comparison to her longing for meat at supper.