Chapter 19: Smoke and Silver at the Pier

Madam Shen’s sister‑in‑law, Third Madam, replied, “She is our Fourth Miss of the Third Branch.”

Madam Shen raised an eyebrow. “Fourth Miss?”

Her memory stirred: this concubine‑born girl, the same age as her own daughter, had lost her mother in childhood. She distinctly recalled that the Third Branch’s Fourth Miss was exactly Shen Ti’s age—so why was she still at home, unmarried?

She even remembered how, years ago, Shen Ti had frowned when his “Fourth Cousin” was mentioned in a lighthearted way as “the girl who lost her mother.” Madam Shen could not help but glance at Third Madam.

Third Madam would rather not have introduced Yin Zhi at all. Seventeen and still unbetrothed—especially with no engagement—reflected poorly on her as the lawful wife. It felt unjust. But now was not the time to argue, and luckily Madam Shen, tactful as ever, did not press the point. She offered only, “Ah, I see,” and quietly shifted the conversation.

Unexpectedly, the Matriarch spoke in her cool, measured tone: “That girl’s fate is hard—she must soak up every ounce of our family’s good fortune before she can marry.”

The hall’s festive air paused for a heartbeat.

Though the Yin family was now wealthy, when the Matriarch first married the Patriarch he had been a small‑scale merchant, and she the illiterate daughter of a grocer. Third Madam privately looked down on her mother‑in‑law, but as daughter‑in‑law she had no choice but to endure.

At the Matriarch’s cutting remark, Yin Zhi gently lowered her eyes—her stepmother was speaking; it was not her place to defend herself.

Third Madam hurried to smooth things over: “Of course this household is blessed—our prosperity protects our descendants. When she came of age, we had already arranged a match for her, but then she fell ill. While observing her mother’s mourning, she lived at Donglin Temple, where the Abbot recognized her rare spiritual insight and made her his named disciple. During her illness, he divined that she must remain at home for three years’ healing to overcome the obstacle in her fate.”

“This is no charlatan’s scheme—it is the judgment of the Abbot of Donglin Temple. Who among us dare refuse his words?”

“She has already waited two years; by next spring or summer the crisis will have passed. Under the protection of her grandparents, we will surely find her a fine match then.”

Madam Shen knew much of this was embellishment, but she could not upstage her own sister‑in‑law before the Matriarch. Smiling, she said, “I understand. To be blessed by one’s elders—she is indeed fortunate.”

Then she turned to Yin Zhi. “Fourth Miss, come here.”

Yin Zhi rose and stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Aunt.”

Though she had just endured her grandmother’s harsh words without betraying a flicker of emotion—remaining composed, even gentle—Madam Shen’s memory stirred. She recalled hearing at the temple how devout and serene the girl had been during her mourning period.

Nodding inwardly, Madam Shen unfastened the jade pendant at her waist. “Blessed by your grandfather and grandmother’s love, you have inherited their fortune. Your mother and grandmother watch over you, and I, your Aunt Shen, can offer but little. This jade was part of my own dowry, bringing the blessings of my father’s family. Now I give it to you—may you, too, live in good fortune.”

Yin Zhi received it with respect and bowed, her voice clear: “Your niece was reborn most fortunately—born into a blessed home, cherished by so many. I shall indeed strive to live up to Aunt’s and Mother’s blessings.”

In Third Madam’s heart, a flush of relief: the girl had handled both grandmother and aunt with grace. She smiled at the show of filial piety, pretending not to notice the Matriarch’s displeasure.

The Matriarch squinted but was quietly elbowed by her attendant. She and the Patriarch had been married decades; he had warned her, “Our Fourth Miss may only visit a few times in her life—don’t make her uncomfortable.” Chastened, the Matriarch fell silent.

Madam Shen’s gaze, however, lingered on Yin Zhi with a new warmth.

Third Madam, eager to keep the peace, continued the praise: “Our Fourth Miss truly is a fine child—never a cross word with her sisters, fitting her role as both younger and elder sister perfectly. Gentle, steady, honest—everyone knows it.”

Madam Shen, accustomed to the courtesies of the capital but now deeply honored by the Patriarch and the whole household, joined in. The other ladies of the household chimed in support:

“She’s a dear playmate to all.”

“With that crisis behind her, she’ll surely flourish.”

Their united goodwill restored the festive mood—save for the Matriarch, who struggled to watch the flowery praise.

Her thoughts drifted to her own ill‑fated third daughter, enduring hardship in her husband’s home with no end in sight. Overcome by sorrow, she rose abruptly. “My head pains me—I’ll retire for a rest. Carry on!”

Everyone knew the true cause of her headaches, and Third Madam bowed solicitously: “Mother, please, do rest—leave everything here to us.”

The Matriarch, though she still grieved for her lost daughter, understood the importance of hosting Madam Shen. She gave a signal to her eldest daughter‑in‑law. “I’m fine. Your sister is a rare guest—see that she is well cared for.”

The eldest daughter‑in‑law exhaled in relief and guided her away.

With the Matriarch gone, the hall’s atmosphere grew even more joyous.

The younger girls, unburdened by deference to capital protocol, clustered around Aunt Shen, bombarding her with eager questions about life in the imperial city. Even the two betrothed cousins, at first reserved, soon joined the excited chatter.

Madam Shen, smiling graciously, answered each question in turn—and in the brief pauses between sips of tea, her eyes often drifted back to Yin Zhi.

In truth, Yin Zhi was the most quietly remarkable figure in the room.

Her chosen plain attire—intended to avoid attention—stood out precisely because everyone else had dressed in their newest finery to honor the esteemed guest. In this small community, wearing brand‑new robes signified utmost respect; to appear less splendid risked seeming ungrateful.

The Yin family had both means and fashion sense—of course they wore new clothes. Yet by dressing modestly, Yin Zhi—now the eldest of her generation at home—shone in her unassuming simplicity.

Madam Shen recognized the nuance: while she herself, educated in the capital, favored the subtlety of “half‑new, half‑old,” here was a girl embodying that very style by instinct.

She watched as, no matter what question a younger cousin posed—even if naïve—Yin Zhi smiled gently and replied with warmth. She sensed that this niece, though blossoming with youthful beauty, neither competed for center stage nor craved attention; instead, she savored the easy fellowship of family gatherings much like an elder.

Madam Shen nodded to herself in approval.

Yin Zhi spent the visit beaming supportively—smiling when invited, applauding at the right moments. Having benefited from this family’s prosperity, she contributed her own gift of harmony and grace.

At the same time, she maintained a delightful detachment, observing and interpreting the interactions around her. The girls were innocent in their wonder at the capital; the older women’s subtle etiquette and unspoken messages intrigued her even more.

Yet on occasion, Madam Shen’s gaze would return with a questioning look. Yin Zhi wondered: Did the aunt find her lack of brand‑new splendor unbecoming? But she quickly dismissed the notion—Madam Shen had already proven her generosity by rescuing Yunjian and by nurturing Shen Ti so well.

Perhaps Madam Shen simply worried that, at seventeen, she had not yet been promised in marriage.

Relaxing, Yin Zhi smiled when Madam Shen looked again. The aunt’s eyes brightened, and she shifted the topic: “Fourth Miss, what do you do at home? Do you still study?”

Had she known she’d be asked, she might not have smiled so readily just now.

But she could not evade the question. She inclined slightly: “I’ve finished all the lessons at the academy, so I no longer attend. I read on my own—occasional books of all kinds. Most days I copy sutras to send to my master. In my spare time, I enjoy tending flowers, like my cousins.”

A lively younger cousin piped up, “Fourth Miss’s courtyard overflows with blossoms—she’s an expert gardener!”

The other sisters nodded in agreement.

Madam Shen smiled, then turned her attention to the little cousin, answering her with warmth. The children relaxed completely.

Yin Zhi, too, found ease in the visit.

After a long stretch of celebration, she wondered why the eldest daughter‑in‑law had not yet announced the end of the gathering. Even as a guest, she felt a twinge of fatigue; the hostess must be exhausted.

Then a maid slipped in: “Her Highness’s nephew has arrived.”

At once, the ladies’ eyes lit up. Yin Zhi realized they had been awaiting his entrance.

Third Madam clapped her hands. “How careless—why haven’t we invited him in?”

The maid protested softly, “His Highness insisted we inform him first.”

Yin Zhi could not suppress a smile.

Just as in childhood, her cousin—now a celebrated young scholar—retained his endearing propriety.