Chapter 85: The Day of Condolence, Degrees of Closeness

On the sixteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, the entire Cui residence was draped in mourning white. Servants, each wearing a band of filial piety, hurried from the house to deliver news of the death to friends and relatives throughout the Eastern Capital; some mounted swift horses and rode out of the city to convey the news to Chang’an. As the principal mourners, the brothers Cui Taizhi and Cui Ezh took on the responsibility together, but upon hearing of his mother’s passing, Cui Ezh spat blood and fainted, leaving Cui Taizhi to suppress his grief and manage the funeral alone. Fortunately, though his sister-in-law, Lady Li of the Zhao State, was frail, his niece, Fifth Lady Cui, had always been sharp and capable; with his own wife and children yet to arrive, he was grateful for her assistance. Still, after a full day of ceaseless activity, he appeared wan and exhausted as he kept vigil before the coffin.

In contrast to his fourth uncle, Cui Jianxuan drifted about in a daze. He had raced back from Mount Song and barely arrived in time to see his grandmother one last time—she passed before he could utter more than a few words. Worse yet, his perpetually stern father was so shaken by the news that he, too, spat blood and fainted; though now somewhat recovered, he looked frail and aged, his eyes devoid of their usual authority. While others received mourners or busied themselves with ritual matters, Cui Jianxuan wandered aimlessly in the rear garden, his gaze empty and unfocused, until at last he walked straight into a tree by the path and, leaning against it, crumpled weakly to his knees.

“Eleventh Young Master.”

The voice called him three times before Cui Jianxuan turned around in confusion. Seeing it was Du Shiyi, he hung his head again, and after a long silence murmured, “Du Nineteenth, am I useless?”

Du Shiyi saw nothing odd in Cui Jianxuan’s state; he, too, had suffered the pain of losing a loved one. After a moment’s thought, he leaned against the tree beside him, placed a hand on Cui Jianxuan’s shoulder, and said, “You’ve always been the most self-assured Eleventh Young Master of the Cui clan. Why speak so? True, your words are often sharp, your actions impulsive, and you rarely consider the consequences, but once you set your mind to something, is there anything you fail at? Now that Lady Dowager Qi has passed and your father, Lord Cui, lies ill in bed, however sad you are, you must rally your spirit. Don’t you see your eldest uncle doing just that?”

“Even now you’re exposing my flaws!” Cui Jianxuan shot Du Shiyi a fierce glare, then said in a low voice, “How can I compare with my father and fourth uncle? Grandmother often spoke to me about them, always with pride, urging me to learn from them and support the family’s name. But with my elder brother above and clever younger brother below, why should I be ambitious? Yet now I think of it—my father, too, was once the youngest son. If he had been like me, perhaps our family would not be as it is today.”

“Since you understand this, why hide here alone? Your brothers are all in the mourning hall; if someone notices the direct grandson who made it back is missing, how will they answer? You and Ninth Lady really are cut from the same cloth. I ran into her just now—she was wandering, lost in thought, and didn’t respond when I called. Only Fifth Lady has the presence of mind to receive guests and direct affairs; even my own cousin, Thirteenth Lady, is being kept busy at her command. Were it not for her, I’d never have found you here.”

“My sister is always so strict!” Cui Jianxuan pressed his hand to the ground and finally stood, brushing off his hands before looking at Du Shiyi. “As for Ninth Lady, she’s got the same temperament as I do—that’s why she could imitate me so convincingly… I understand, I’ll go help my brothers. Du Nineteenth, if you find the house too chaotic these days and wish to leave, just go—you needn’t say a word.”

“Enough nonsense, my affairs are none of your concern!”

Previously, because of Lady Dowager Cui’s grave illness, Du Shiyi had considered moving to an inn, but with Lady Dowager passing that same day and Cui Ezh falling ill upon his return from Chang’an, and the whole family mobilized for the funeral, Cui Taizhi personally asked him to stay, lest the absence of anyone from the Dowager’s family draw reproach. Thus, he had no choice but to agree.

For several days thereafter, the Cui family was consumed with funeral rites and rituals. Lady Xue, Marchioness of Qinghe and wife of Cui Taizhi, arrived with her children, and with all branches of the family assembled, the ceremonies proceeded in perfect order. Not until five days after Lady Dowager’s death, when Lu Wangzhi arrived on orders from Lu Hongzhi and paid his respects, did anyone from Lady Dowager’s natal family appear—a young man just past twenty, Du Wenruo.

Both from the Jingzhao Du clan, Du Shiyi had once been quite renowned in Fanchuan. Most branches of the Du family there knew him, but in the nearly three years since, he had changed; study, martial training, and physical discipline had rendered him far from the frail scholar he once was, so Du Wenruo did not recognize him now. He had come at his father’s bidding, having heard of Du De’s illness, but took his time, pausing to enjoy the scenery along the way, and spent over half a month on the road. He never expected Lady Dowager Qi would not recover! Even more awkward was that upon arriving in the Eastern Capital, he made no effort to inquire after the situation, but went straight to the Cui mansion, only to be recognized at the white-draped gates by a servant—he couldn’t even slip away to prepare proper mourning gifts. All he had brought were silks, brocades, and medicines, hardly suitable as offerings for the deceased!

Now, following Lu Wangzhi, who had just completed the rites, Du Wenruo steeled himself and approached Cui Taizhi, intending to explain, but Cui Taizhi merely nodded coolly and then, leaving him behind, went to greet a young man in linen robes with the utmost courtesy, bowing and saying, “My mother’s recent passing has troubled the reclusive Master Lu of Mount Song, and you, Young Master Lu, have honored us by coming to the Eastern Capital.”

“Lady Dowager was learned in rites and the sutras, her reputation spread far and wide. My teacher, Master Lu, held her in great respect. Upon hearing of her illness, my fellow disciples accompanied the Ninth Brother home, but our master, still uneasy, sent me with rare herbs gathered from the mountains to offer some small token of goodwill. Alas, Lady Dowager has already passed, so I hastened here with mourning gifts. If I have been remiss, I beg your pardon, Lord Cui.” Though Lu Wangzhi was usually informal, his manners now were impeccable, his words elegant and modest, leaving even Du Shiyi quietly impressed by his transformation.

Lu Hong had declined office and his fame was at its peak; Cui Taizhi was naturally pleased that his unruly nephew had become a disciple of so esteemed a teacher. With Lu Hong’s foremost disciple paying respects, the gesture was both respectful and proper, making the indifference of the Dowager’s natal family all the more glaring.

With such humility from Lu Wangzhi, Cui Taizhi expressed his thanks again, then smiled and signaled Du Shiyi to take Lu Wangzhi inside. Only after they left did he turn to the uneasy Du Wenruo and say coolly, “Thank you, Young Master Du, for coming from Jingzhao to pay your respects. Jianxuan, take Young Master Du to meet your aunt and mother.”

Cui Jianxuan was never one to hide his feelings toward those he disliked. Now, faced with a tardy relative from his grandmother’s family, he was even colder. Escorting Du Wenruo from the mourning hall, he answered none of his questions, his face set in stone. Upon reaching his mother’s quarters, he waited on the steps while a maid announced them, but word came back that both his mother and aunt were too weary to receive guests. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left. Du Wenruo, proud as ever, could no longer endure the humiliation and suddenly darted forward, grabbing Cui Jianxuan’s hemp sleeve.

“Eleventh Young Master Cui, I came at my father’s command to visit Lady Dowager and did not know she had passed. What is your family’s meaning with such treatment?”

“You didn’t know she had died? That’s because you didn’t care enough. The funeral notices have gone out all over the city—how could you blunder straight to our door? Even if you had no mourning gifts, why bring a cart of silks and brocades? The Cui family has never lacked such things! Even a small gift from Fanchuan would have been more welcome. And don’t think I’m unaware—my father said when he returned from Chang’an that the Du family had already sent someone to visit Grandmother, but you waited until after her death to appear!”

With a sharp jerk, Cui Jianxuan freed his sleeve, scoffing coldly, “When Grandmother was fading, if Du Nineteenth hadn’t happened to be with me on the journey from Mount Song, we’d have had no Du clansman present—she would have died with regret! And you complain of our treatment? The Cui family has been more than polite. Don’t forget, your grandfather’s official post was secured through my uncle’s efforts. When you sought office, you were eager; afterward, you shunned us like the plague. Is it just for the sake of your reputation?”

With those words, Cui Jianxuan strode off without a backward glance. Du Wenruo, flushed with anger and shame, stood rooted to the spot. At the mention of “Du Nineteenth,” his expression changed abruptly. Suddenly remembering the tall youth who had accompanied Cui Taizhi and been addressed as “Young Master Lu”—so unlike the frail scholar he recalled—his brow furrowed deeply.

So, at Lady Dowager Du De’s deathbed, Du Shiyi had once again inserted himself!

Three years earlier, Du Shiyi had been renowned among the Jingzhao Du clan, but after a fire at the old residence left him traumatized and creatively spent, he fell gravely ill. His younger sister took him to Mount Song for treatment, and they vanished from public life; most assumed both siblings had perished. Who could have imagined that earlier this year, news would come that Du Shiyi had become a disciple of the reclusive Lu Hong, and at banquets hosted by Duke Bi and Princess Yuzhen in the Eastern Capital, he had made a name for himself? If he were to attempt a return to public life, it would complicate Du Wenruo’s own ambitions for next year’s civil service exams—never had two men of the same surname and origin attained high rank together! The elder who once favored Du Shiyi, escorting him among the elite, was delighted to hear he was well again, and though now retired, if he lent support, who could predict the outcome?

No—rather than endure cold treatment in the Cui household, Du Wenruo must leave at once!