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After giving Song Hongyi a hard time, Wang Xiujin felt quite pleased. They spent the entire day at the Wang residence, and before the sun had set, Wang Xiujin and Li Linshan, holding their child, returned to the Li household. Song Hongyi stayed behind with Wang Xiuyun and their child, planning to spend two days at the Wang residence and attend Yachang’s first birthday celebration at the Li residence the next day.

Once home, Wang Xiujin and Li Linshan discussed how to celebrate their son’s birthday the following day. After all, it was not only his first birthday but also his grab day, and everything for the ceremony had been prepared before the New Year. The two doting fathers speculated about what their son might choose. That evening, as the whole family gathered together, conversation revolved around Yachang’s upcoming grab ceremony. The Lis hadn’t sent out invitations, much like during the child’s full moon celebration; it was simply a family gathering, including in-laws.

On the morning of the second day of the new year, Wang Xiujin and Li Linshan rose early to dress their son in festive clothing adorned with auspicious motifs. Yachang seemed unusually excited, bouncing in his little father’s arms. Xiujin glanced at the crown of his son’s head—now that he was a year old, he still bore no birthmark, and Xiujin wondered if that was a good or bad sign.

After breakfast, Master Wang and his wife arrived, accompanied by Song Hongyi and Xiuyun, trailed by four children. Later, members of the Chun family came as well, with Lady Song bringing gifts. Just as the steward thought everyone had arrived and prepared to close the main gate, an imperial procession appeared. The steward, noting the direction of the procession, realized they were headed for their residence. He hurriedly opened the gate, just in time to see a young attendant in a blue vest run up. “The Fourth Prince, by imperial command, has come to witness Young Master Yachang’s grab ceremony.”

The steward immediately sent someone to the main hall to announce the arrival—one could not be negligent with a prince sent by imperial order. The assembled families in the main hall straightened their attire and went to the gate to receive the Fourth Prince. As the group arrived, the prince stepped down from his carriage, accompanied by his eldest son, whose stern little face bore a striking resemblance to the Emperor.

Entering the courtyard, the Fourth Prince waved off those about to bow, indicating that, though he came bearing imperial orders, he was present more as a friend. He had the items sent by the Emperor for the grab ceremony brought forward, along with his own gifts. “When does the ceremony begin? I’d like to see it. I wonder if Yachang will cause as much of a stir as his father did at his own grab day.” The Fourth Prince recalled the rumors of Wang Xiujin’s legendary grab ceremony—he’d missed it then, but this time he was eager to see the son’s performance, perhaps to witness the birth of another tale.

Yachang, nestled in his little father’s arms, moved curiously, blinking his big eyes and nuzzling his father’s cheek.

After lunch, a massive table was laid out in the warm main hall, scattered with objects for the ceremony. Wang Xiujin set his son on the table. Yachang wobbled to his feet, circled as if surveying his domain, then tumbled over and rolled across the tabletop, prompting the audience to burst into laughter. Xiujin pressed a hand to his forehead—he’d never noticed this side of his son before. Linshan, gazing at their child, softened visibly, tenderness shining in his eyes. Amid the laughter, Yachang suddenly scrambled up, darted for a command token, and grabbed a long saber along the way.

Old Master Wang, seeing his great-grandson seize these objects, was delighted. His hearty laughter and cheers echoed through the room. Xiujin recognized the command token—a wooden replica of the Li family’s military token, crafted by his grandfather for the children’s grab ceremonies. Since General Li’s generation, only Xiujin and now Yachang had chosen it.

After the ceremony, Yachang fell asleep on the table clutching his prizes. Xiujin hurried over to pick him up, but even in sleep, the boy refused to let go. After several failed attempts to pry them from his grasp, Linshan said helplessly, “Let him be. Take them away when he wakes.” Xiujin could only nod in agreement.

The lively grab ceremony concluded, and the guests soon took their leave. Rubbing his shoulders, Xiujin realized he didn’t care much for large gatherings. Even though today’s visitors were all agreeable, he found such occasions exhausting and decided to avoid them in the future whenever possible. He glanced at his son, sleeping soundly. As for what the boy had chosen, Xiujin didn’t put much stock in it. After all, it was said that General Li had grabbed a brush as an infant, yet grew up to command armies. The ceremony was but a good omen; what path the child would take was still to be seen.

“Rest for a while; I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner,” Linshan advised, seeing how fatigued Xiujin looked.

Xiujin nodded. “You should rest too—you’re not faring much better than I am.” He yawned, sinking onto the soft couch. “If the weather is warm tomorrow, let’s take Yachang to visit my mother’s grave.” No matter her faults, she had given Linshan life; the living shouldn’t hold grudges against the dead.

Linshan hesitated, then agreed. For someone who had passed away so many years ago, he thought it right to pay respects. At least she should know he was alive and well, with a family and children, and that there would be more children yet. He would cherish every one of them.

At dinner, they mentioned their decision to the elders. General Li seemed displeased, but Old General Li and Shopkeeper Mi thought it appropriate. “No matter what kind of person she was, as her children, you should visit her grave. Take Linfu with you as well.”

Linshan frowned, then nodded. Linfu, sitting beside her little father, said nothing. She had no memory of her mother, only stories she’d heard from relatives. Her little father always spoke kindly of her mother, but her father said that the woman had treated her eldest brother poorly, forcing him to the battlefield while pregnant with her because she believed she was bearing a son. Her brother had nearly died, and carried a long scar to this day.

At first, Linfu didn’t know whom to believe. Her little father was always good to her, and she wanted to believe her mother was as well. But after hearing her father’s account, she felt a deep disgust—even towards herself, for nearly causing her brother’s death. Still, she couldn’t quite believe her father’s story, so she went to ask her grandfather. He only sighed, “You’re still young. Just trust your little father.” Linfu was clever, and though just a child, she understood. From then on, she drew even closer to her little father.

On the morning of the third day, Wang Xiujin and Linshan set out with their son and Linfu. The location of Linshan’s mother’s grave was easy to find. As it was not a traditional day for offerings, the cemetery was deserted. They placed an incense burner and the prepared offerings, lit the incense, and set it in place. Holding Yachang in his arms, Linshan and Linfu knelt and bowed three times before the grave. When they rose, Xiujin handed his son to Linfu, then knelt and bowed himself. As Yachang was still unsteady on his feet and bundled in heavy clothing, they didn’t ask him to kneel—Xiujin was tender-hearted, and Linshan had no intention of making things difficult for the child.

Linshan asked Xiujin to take their son and Linfu back to the carriage first. Xiujin glanced at him, noted his calm expression, and complied. As he climbed into the carriage, Xiujin looked back at where Linshan stood and sighed softly. He knew there was a knot in Linshan’s heart that, though he might set many things aside, would never truly fade or grow.

Inside the carriage, Xiujin handed a hand warmer to Linfu. “It’s cold outside—warm up quickly. You mustn’t catch a chill, especially as a girl. It’s much more troublesome to recover.” Linfu nodded, feeling a bit numb. She couldn’t quite say what she felt. The woman buried on the hillside was her mother, denied even a place in the Li family’s ancestral tomb, marking her as one who had erred and was no longer considered part of the family. She’d learned enough to know the circumstances under which a woman might leave her husband’s home—either by divorce or expulsion. Judging by her father’s words, her mother had likely been sent away.

Yachang was especially well-behaved that day, curling up in his little father’s arms with a hand warmer, his big eyes fixed on his aunt, as if sensing her sadness. He reached out to pat her arm, babbling, “Doo, doo.”

Linfu’s mood immediately lifted. “It’s ‘aunt,’ not ‘doo’,” she corrected her nephew’s pronunciation.

“Why worry about that? Yachang can’t even say ‘great-grandfather’ yet,” Xiujin remarked, recalling how the old master always looked at Yachang with anticipation, only to be disappointed time and again.

Linfu stuck out her tongue playfully. “Brother Jin, when will big brother return? Will he be angry with me?”

“Why would he? He only feels sorry for you.” Xiujin thought she was overthinking things, but it was natural for girls to be sensitive. “Don’t dwell on it. If your brother ever had a problem with you, he wouldn’t have doted on you since you were little, always giving you the best of everything. If he disliked you, he’d avoid you. Has he ever done that? I remember, when you first learned to hold your head up, he talked about you nonstop—how you ate, how you moved, how you grew.”

Linfu nodded, recalling that only in the past couple of years had her brother seemed distant—because she was growing up and because he had someone beside him now. But even so, he always remembered her, never leaving her out, even when preparing toys for Yachang. Brother Jin was also very good to her, and she knew it was because of her brother’s influence. Had he been indifferent, Brother Jin would not have cared for her so much.

“Let’s go home,” Linshan said, lifting the curtain, picking up a hand warmer for himself, and settling beside Xiujin as the carriage rolled forward.