Chapter 185: Apologies to Each Other

Cheng Zhao and Zhou Yuanshen returned to the residence together.

He was silent, and Cheng Zhao sat in silence as well.

She wanted to reason with him, but could not find a thread to start. Every sentence she might say required her to think through what came after.

Zhou Yuanshen's problem was the first she had ever encountered in her teenage years. She was unpracticed "here."

She could not control it.

While Cheng Zhao was lost in thought, time passed swiftly, and the carriage arrived back at the Duke of Chen's mansion.

Zhou Yuanshen descended from the carriage first; turning back, he saw Cheng Zhao. The maidservants were not nearby, so he reached out to help her down.

Cheng Zhao looked at him.

Their eyes met, and Zhou Yuanshen's gaze held no emotion whatsoever.

"Get down, Duchess," he said.

Cheng Zhao: "..."

She did not take his hand, and climbed down from the carriage on her own.

Once inside the gates of the mansion, a small oil-paper carriage waited at the entrance, prepared especially by the head steward.

This had not been the custom before.

The last time, the steward had asked Cheng Zhao, saying that when she and the Second Madam returned from outings, they had to wait for the small carriage, which was inconvenient.

Now that Cheng Zhao had gained authority, she did not even need to give orders—the steward would rack his brains to please her.

At the time, Huan Qingtang and a few of her confidants had looked displeased, yet they could not object.

Cheng Zhao stood beside the small carriage and asked Zhou Yuanshen, "Will Your Grace go to the study, or return to Nonghua Courtyard?"

A smile hung on her face.

Zhou Yuanshen: "I'll go to Chenhui Courtyard; there are some trivial matters to attend to."

Cheng Zhao: "Then I shall go back first."

The coarse-clothed servant woman who drove the carriage set down the stool, and Cheng Zhao stepped up onto it, sitting steadily.

As soon as she returned, the people at Nonghua Courtyard said to her, "Go quickly and look in the side chamber."

Cheng Zhao: "What is it?"

She turned onto the western corridor and entered the side chamber, where she saw an entire row of lanterns laid out on the table.

About thirty or forty of them, each small and exquisitely crafted.

Cheng Zhao did not care for large lanterns; her favorites were the small ones that Liao's workshop had specially made years ago, each about the size of a little rabbit. Hung up, they looked brilliant without dimming the radiance of the moonlight.

Moonlight and lamplight could complement each other.

That time, it was her Second Sister-in-law who had bought them for her—twenty in total—and she had hung them all on the branches of the trees in the courtyard, truly beautiful.

Unfortunately, on the night of the Lantern Festival, it rained, and everyone in the house was sound asleep—no one noticed. The lanterns were soaked through, and by the following year they had grown moldy.

Cheng Zhao had felt great regret.

When she went to buy more, she learned that these lanterns did not sell well, so Liao's workshop had stopped producing them; they would have to be specially ordered. But the Liao workshop's business was booming, and ordered lanterns took over half a year to be made.

After that, Cheng Zhao had followed her parents to their post in Fengzhou.

She had not forgotten the matter entirely, but things she had liked in childhood, she was too lazy to seek out again.

Now she saw them once more.

She still liked them very much.

Half the size of an ordinary lantern, yet the craftsmanship was in no way sloppy—just as exquisite and ingenious.

"...Who sent these?" Cheng Zhao's eyes brightened slightly.

Qiubai smiled and said, "His Grace had Nanfeng deliver them."

Cheng Zhao was momentarily startled.

"His Grace bought them? How did he know?"

Nanny Li said from the side, "He probably went to ask the eldest young lady, or perhaps the third young lady. The two ladies always keep your preferences in mind."

Cheng Zhao's eldest sister and third sister remembered all of her likes and dislikes.

Cheng Zhao gently stroked the lanterns.

"I loved them when I was little, and I love them now," she said softly.

Qiubai: "Such delicate little things—people of any age would love them."

Cheng Zhao nodded.

Nanny Li then said, "This time, don't hang them on the trees. Never mind rain—even dew will make them moldy. Hang them under the eaves instead."

She added, "Take the lanterns under the eaves and hang them on the trees in the courtyard; swap them around."

Cheng Zhao agreed wholeheartedly: "Very good."

She composed herself and said to Nanny Li, "Make sour radish and duck soup tonight; I haven't had it in a long while."

Nanny Li: "I wonder if the main kitchen has a fresh duck on hand. I'll go and check."

She hurried off.

Cheng Zhao then said to Qiubai, "Go to Chenhui Courtyard and say that I'll wait for His Grace to dine with me this evening."

Remembering what had happened earlier, and fearing he might make an excuse to decline, Cheng Zhao added, "Sour radish and duck soup tastes better the longer it's simmered. Tell His Grace not to hurry. He can take his time with his trivial matters."

Qiubai acknowledged and left, soon returning to tell Cheng Zhao, "His Grace is in the outer study. He says he'll come once he's done."

Cheng Zhao breathed a sigh of relief.

She had not realized she was holding her heart up slightly.

With that settled, Cheng Zhao finally had leisure to admire the small lanterns.

She kept a few aside, intending to give them to her nephews, nieces, and nieces on the other side; she kept one for herself to play with. The rest were to be hung under the eaves.

It was not yet Mid-Autumn Festival, so she would not light them for now—just looking at them brought her joy.

The sun had not yet set, and the sour radish and duck soup had yet to reach its full flavor, when Zhou Yuanshen returned to Nonghua Courtyard.

Cheng Zhao stood under the eaves, a last sliver of sunset falling upon her skirts; her face was pale as jade, and even in the shadow of the eaves, she seemed to glow in the darkness.

"The lanterns are beautiful," she said.

Zhou Yuanshen drew near.

He tilted his head up, gazing at them quietly: "You used longer threads; hanging them this way does look better."

"On Mid-Autumn night, I'll light them and open the doors and windows. With the glass beads on the door of my inner chamber as accompaniment, it will surely be lovely," Cheng Zhao said.

As she spoke, she stepped a little closer to him.

Zhou Yuanshen naturally leaned in as well, and before he knew it, his hand brushed against hers.

The skin of the back of her hand was a little cool, and instinctively he grasped it.

Cheng Zhao did not pull away; instead, she interlaced her fingers with his.

The couple stood there, gazing at the lanterns.

The sunset faded bit by bit, and by now there was little left to see in the lanterns—neither of them was truly looking.

"The sour radish and duck soup still needs a while longer. Would Your Grace care for a game of chess?" Cheng Zhao asked.

Zhou Yuanshen tightened his grip on her hand: "No chess."

Cheng Zhao drew closer to him.

The husband and wife returned to their chamber.

Nanny Li had, the day before, brought in new bed curtains for Cheng Zhao, embroidered with the osmanthus blossoms of mid-autumn—orange and yellow, warm and softly bright.

The folding screen had not yet been taken away.

Cheng Zhao fell into his arms.

"...Cheng Zhao, are we husband and wife?" he asked. "Not Duke of Chen and Duchess, but you and me."

Cheng Zhao hesitated.

She thought of Mu Jiang shut away in the family shrine, of the bed companions in Lijing Courtyard, of the new concubine in Yujin Courtyard, and her heart tightened slightly.

She wrapped her arms around Zhou Yuanshen's neck: "I won't mistake you again."

She added, "Twice now—last time I didn't see clearly, and this time I didn't recognize it was you. I've reflected on it. Whatever the reason, it was my fault."

Wrong was wrong.

When wrong, one corrects it.

Cheng Zhao's marriage was very good.

Like a fine bolt of cloth, tailored into a splendid garment. As for the thread and effort spent, and what scraps might be left over, those did not belong to the splendid robe of marriage.

When the garment was fine and noble, being wrong had no excuse.

Cheng Zhao looked at the lanterns and understood this.

"I apologize to you, Your Grace." She gently kissed the corner of his mouth. "Will you forgive me?"

Zhou Yuanshen seemed to be waiting for a different answer.

But he, too, was skilled at compromise—like Cheng Zhao, casting the scraps aside.

He kissed her back with force.

"Make me a sachet," he said.

Cheng Zhao: "All right."

The bed curtains fell, burying them in shadow as they sank into each other.

That night, Cheng Zhao enjoyed a bowl of exceptionally savory pickled radish and duck soup. It had been simmering until the small hours of the night before being served, so the flavors had fully melded with just the right amount of heat.