Chapter 1

In the northern part of Shuntian Prefecture in the capital, there was a wide avenue where the relatives of Empress Zhang lived. People called this street Zhanghuangqin Street.

The reigning Emperor Hongzhi doted exclusively on Empress Zhang—there were no concubines in the harem, only one wife. Out of love for her, he extended favor to her entire family. To show his grace, the emperor conferred marquisates on Empress Zhang’s two younger brothers: Marquis Shouning and Marquis Jianchang. The two grand marquis residences, built at imperial expense, occupied the entire street.

The Shouning Marquisate was the senior branch of the Zhang family and housed the ancestral shrine. It was located on the east side and was commonly known as the Eastern Residence.

The Jianchang Marquisate was the second branch, located on the west side, and was known as the Western Residence.

The Zhang royals from both residences lived in luxury, commanding servants and slaves at their every whim. The two households maintained over a thousand slaves.

To the west of the Western Residence, there was a row of servant quarters with over a hundred household slaves. Because there was a sweet-water well in the area, topped with a pavilion of stone and brick, and the well had four stone-lined openings, the area was called Siquan Lane.

It was midsummer at Siquan Lane, and the shrill cries of cicadas filled the air, their deafening noise seeming to compete with the oppressive heat.

Inside the well pavilion, two heavily pregnant women sat on small stools. Each had a large wooden basin before her, with dirty clothes soaking in the water. The women scrubbed the laundry against washboards, making steady thumping sounds.

Beads of sweat rolled down the round-faced woman’s cheeks. Irritated, she threw the soiled garment back into the basin and complained, “Why won’t this wash out? I’ve been scrubbing forever and it still won’t come clean!”

Beside her, a pretty woman with an almond-shaped face picked up the damp clothes, examined them, and sniffed them. “Don’t be upset, Sister E,” she said gently. “Looks like a bloodstain. That’s hard to get out. If you keep scrubbing, you’ll ruin the fabric. I’ll go to the kitchen and get some soda ash and vinegar to break it down.”

Sister E had been a farmer’s daughter. During a famine year when she was eight, she was sold to the marquisate in exchange for a pair of geese and had been a maid ever since. People just called her E Sister.

As she spoke, the other woman slowly rose from the stool, cradling her heavily swollen belly. She looked like she was about to give birth any day.

E Sister said, “Gangzi’s wife, no rush. Take your time walking—and while you’re at it, bring the osmanthus cakes from the kang table at my place. Let’s eat together—feels like I’ve got a hungry ghost in my belly. I just had breakfast and I’m starving again.”

This delicate young woman E Sister called Gangzi’s wife had already been an adult when she was bought into the Western Residence as a slave. She had been purchased specifically to be paired with a male servant. In both the Eastern and Western Residences, once male servants reached the age of 25, the household would assign them a maid to marry—like E Sister was paired with her husband.

The idea was to breed more household-born servants, who were more reliable and familiar than newly bought ones. It also helped keep mature slaves grounded. Once they had their own families and children, their lives and fates were completely tied to the master’s household, ensuring loyalty.

That year, the Western Residence didn’t have enough maids to go around—too many men, not enough women—so she was bought from outside and assigned to Gangzi, a gatekeeper and guard. Naturally, everyone referred to her as Gangzi’s wife.

E Sister was bold and capable, the dominant one in her household. Even after marriage, everyone still called her E Sister, and her husband was nicknamed E Sister’s Husband.

“Tell me about it. I’ve got a hungry ghost in me too,” Gangzi’s wife said, rubbing her belly with a smile. “The bigger the baby gets, the hungrier I am. I steamed some date cakes yesterday—let’s eat together before we finish the laundry.”

After a while, Gangzi’s wife returned to the well pavilion with a bamboo basket filled with osmanthus cakes, date cakes, a pot of coarse tea, two simple clay cups, and the soda ash and vinegar.

E Sister rubbed the stain with soda ash, and the dark “cloud” began to fade. She then laid the garment flat on the washboard and poured vinegar over it.

While they waited for the stain to fully disappear, the two women chatted and shared their snacks.

Gangzi’s wife poured E Sister some tea and asked, “That bloodstain was huge. Did E Sister’s Husband get hurt during the land dispute with the retainers from the Marquis of Qingyun’s household? Gangzi didn’t say anything about it.”

The Marquis of Qingyun, Zhou Shou, was the brother of the late Grand Empress Dowager Zhou—making him the current emperor’s great-uncle.

There were 500 hectares of land outside the capital, and both the Qingyun Marquisate and the Western Residence of Jianchang claimed it as their own. The dispute had dragged on endlessly. The stewards of both houses had met several times with their retainers to negotiate. The stewards argued with words, the retainers with fists—neither side willing to back down.

Though the Marquis of Qingyun held a higher seniority, his sister, the Grand Empress Dowager, had already passed away—her influence gone with her. The Marquis of Jianchang, though of lower rank, was the empress’s brother, basking in current imperial favor. So the two families were evenly matched, and the land dispute remained unresolved.

Now it was like a brass basin crashing into an iron broom—head-on confrontation.

Everyone living in Siquan Lane was a gatekeeper or guard for the Western Residence. So during these disputes, they were required to show up behind their steward, waving flags and making a show of force. And when things got heated, it was inevitable that a few fights would break out.

“Anyway, it wasn’t his blood—he’s not hurt,” E Sister said, taking a bite of date cake and praising, “Delicious! Your homemade ones are better than store-bought. I’ve been telling your husband: he’s about to be a father, so if there’s trouble, just stay out of it and let the young hotheads go first. It’s not like any of that land is ours. We won’t even get a fingernail’s worth of dirt.”

Gāngzi’s wife took a small bite of the osmanthus cake, wiped the crumbs from her lips with a handkerchief, and looked enviously at the other woman. “Sister E’s word is law—her husband listens to everything she says. Mine, the more you say to him, the more he complains.”

“He has to listen,” Sister E glared with her round eyes. “Dare not listen? Then it’s the washboard for him! Kneel till the third watch of the night, let’s see if that fixes him!”

Gāngzi’s wife gave a small smile, didn’t argue, and changed the subject. “There’s something our household decided. No matter if this baby is a boy or girl, the name will be Ruyi—‘as one wishes’. It’s an Jixiang name. As parents, we just want our child to have a smooth life, to be safe and blessed.”

“Ruyi!” Sister E slapped her thigh. “What a good name! Mine, boy or girl, will be called Jixiang. When they get back, I’ll tell your brother-in-law. He’ll definitely like it. If he doesn’t—he can kneel on the washboard until he does!”

The two pregnant women laughed, eating and chatting as they waited for the vinegar to work. The bloodstain was finally dissolved. They drew more water from the well, soaked and washed the clothes again, wrung them dry, and were just walking out of the pavilion with their basins when a crowd suddenly surged into Siquan Lane.

Someone shouted, “Gāngzi’s wife! Gāngzi’s wife!”

Hearing the urgent cry, Gāngzi’s wife had a sinking feeling. The smile vanished from her face, her body froze in place, and her mouth opened—but not a sound came out.

Sister E recognized the voice of her own husband and yelled loudly at the approaching crowd, “We’re over here! You blasted loudmouth, what are you yelling for? Gāngzi’s wife is near her due date—don’t scare her!”

Sister E’s husband ran into the pavilion, covered in blood—face, hands, clothes, even his shoes. Behind him, four gate guards carried a door plank, upon which lay a corpse soaked in blood.

Sister E’s husband dropped to his knees and cried, “It happened on Kùdài Street! The fight broke out again with the guards from the Marquis of Qingyun’s estate. This time they used real weapons. Gāngzi… he charged ahead. He died on the spot!”

Clatter! The wooden basin fell. Wet clothes scattered across the dusty ground. Gāngzi’s wife collapsed limply against Sister E. Her face turned pale. Heat rushed beneath her, and blood followed.

Sister E immediately dropped her basin and caught Gāngzi’s wife. The men carrying the door plank set it down in the yard. Leading them was the head guard, Jiuzhi—so named because he was missing a finger on his right hand. Jiuzhi ordered the men, “Set up the mourning tent here. I’ll ride to fetch the midwife!”

A mourning canopy was erected in Siquan Lane. White banners hung in the wind. Sister E, Jiuzhi, and their neighbors pooled some money to hire monks and Taoist priests to chant for the dead. Since Gāngzi died a violent death, rites were necessary to soothe his soul.

In the tent, bells rang and wooden fish were struck. The chants of monks and Taoists filled the air. Inside the house, Gāngzi’s wife screamed in labor. After hours of agony, by dawn she delivered a baby girl—seven kilogram in weight.

Sister E took out a string of coins and a pair of handkerchiefs to pay the midwife. She washed the baby clean, wrapped her in the swaddling clothes that had been prepared in advance, and placed her beside the mother. “Mother of Ruyi, the baby’s strong—seven kilogram! She’ll be just fine.”

Her husband was dead. A widow’s only hope was her child. Sister E deliberately called her ‘Mother of Ruyi’ to awaken her will to live. The days ahead were still long.

From that day on, she was no longer known as “Gāngzi’s wife.” She became Mother of Ruyi.

No one knew her real name.

Ruyi cried. The seven kilogram baby’s wails pierced the air.

Sister E clicked her tongue in admiration. “What strong lungs! Louder than the cicadas outside. She’ll blow the roof off with that cry.”

Mother of Ruyi blinked, then shifted to a reclining position and instinctively began to nurse her daughter. The baby latched on immediately, and the crying stopped.

Sister E carried out the bloody buckets and basins. Her husband was boiling millet porridge. She told him, “Scoop the rice oil off the top.”

He quickly brought her a bowlful. “It’s almost dawn. I’ll go buy an old hen to stew.”

Sister E added a spoonful of brown sugar to the rice oil. That was the best tonic a poor servant could hope for.

She added, “Don’t take too long—and before you go, lay Mother of Ruyi’s diapers under the blazing sun to sterilize.”

He obeyed every instruction. When he came back with the hen, the monks and Taoists were gone. The mourning tent was already being dismantled. Jiuzhi was overseeing it all.

Sister E’s husband asked, “Why so soon? Shouldn’t we mourn for three days?”

Jiuzhi replied quietly, “The steward from the main household sent word. The brawl between the two marquis households has blown up. The censors raged about it in court this morning. To calm things down, we’ve been told to keep the funeral simple. They just took Gāngzi’s body to the crematorium.”

By now, baby Ruyi had passed meconium three times. Sister E washed the dark green baby poop off the cloth diapers. She hadn’t slept all night. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she muttered bitterly:

“They gave ten taels for burial, said Gāngzi’s monthly allowance of five hundred coins will go to Ruyi until she marries. That’s it. That’s what a grown man’s life is worth. Back when I was just a starving kid, I was at least worth a pair of geese.”

Her husband sighed. “There’s no helping it. A widow and orphan—five hundred coins a month is something. We’ll help where we can. If Gāngzi hadn’t shielded me, I’d be the one on that board waiting for the flames.”

Sister E’s husband had just picked up a knife, ready to kill the chicken, when he heard a splashing sound behind him. He turned and saw a large wet patch spreading beneath his wife’s skirt.

Startled, he exclaimed, “Wife, did you… pee yourself?”

Sister E reached down, touched the wetness, then sniffed her fingers. “Idiot! My water just broke! Go call that midwife back—now!”

By midnight, Sister E gave birth to a son named Jixiang. He was born a month early and weighed less than four jin, but his cries were loud and forceful, as if he were competing with Ruyi. Even the chorus of cicadas paled in comparison.

Ruyi and Jixiang—born on the same year, same month, same day. From birth, they were destined to be a maid and a servant boy in a marquis’s household. Their fates were supposed to mirror those of their parents: serving their masters, and one day raising a new generation of little servants to serve little masters.

But Ruyi and Jixiang later ended up living very different lives.

As for what happens next—stay tuned for the next chapter.