Chapter 1: The Funeral Procession

The first snow had soaked through Jiang Man’s mourning garments.

Her father had died suddenly, far from home, and it was as if Jiang Man’s soul had remained frozen on the day the death notice crossed her threshold, unable to return to the world of the living. Half a tear clung to the corner of her eye, frost gathering on her lashes. She wore unbleached white, draped in coarse hemp, mourning white bound upon her head.

The servants wailed in grief, their cries nearly drowning out the funeral music. The mourners stretched in an unbroken line, heading south along Qingxi Creek.

In the winter of the third year of the Baoyou era, the funeral of the great merchant Jiang Rao was the foremost event in Jiankang Prefecture since the twelfth month began.

Jiang Man could not cry.

The men of the clan—uncles and nephews—escorted the coffin, and over a hundred clansmen had all come; the mourning could not have been more lavish. Jiang Man, being a woman, trailed at the rear. Seeing the steward catch up, she asked quietly, “Is there any news from Lin’an?”

“To answer the Young Miss, no letter yet from the Eldest Young Master. Perhaps the messenger was delayed—it’s the depths of winter, the roads are poor, and the Eldest Young Master no longer lodges at his old place…”

Since hearing the terrible news, she had sent three parties to Lin’an in succession, and still no word. Jiang Man knew her brother would not make it back in time.

And yet, such complete silence had never happened before.

Her steward Jiang Yun fell silent a moment, then offered comfort: “After the new year comes the Metropolitan Examination. The Eldest Young Master may have gone off with his fellow examinees to pay calls somewhere—you needn’t worry excessively, Young Miss. You must look after your own health. If you don’t hold the household together, this family…”

Her heart twisted with pain; she forced it down, brow furrowing slightly. “If my brother cannot make it back, so be it. For the burial, my uncles will help regardless. Follow my arrangements: after the funeral feast, withdraw some silver. Regardless of main branch or cadet branch, anyone who came to see my father off receives half a tael of silver in thanks. Those who escorted the coffin get five more. The aunts who hosted the women of the family spent no small sum—question each one carefully and see they are well treated…”

Her words trailed off, and Jiang Man fell silent.

“Young Miss!” Jiang Yun’s eyes were full of grief, and he stepped half a pace forward. “Please take care of yourself above all. Leave the arrangements to this humble servant—everything will be done as you say. You must not grieve your body any further today!”

Jiang Man wiped the tears from one cheek and nodded slowly. “If any of them lacked for anything, once this is all over, make up the difference. Thank you for your concern, Uncle Yun.”

“It is this humble one’s duty.” Jiang Yun bowed deeply and withdrew.

The man leading the mourners was one of Jiang Man’s older cousins, with whom she had rarely associated. But with her brother absent, someone had to carry the banner and call back her father’s soul, and his elders had standing in the clan—Jiang Man could not have stopped him even had she wished to.

This debt of gratitude she had been forced to accept, and she did not know how she could ever repay it.

The Jiang family had been in the wine trade for generations. Of the wines of Jiangnan East and West, if the Jiang family’s Snow Creek Wine was second, no one dared claim first. At their height, the retail wine taverns that sold their wine dotted the land like stars—no fewer than six hundred. Even now, with Jiankang turned into a frontline garrison town, the Jiang family still reigned supreme.

But business had grown difficult. Two years ago, rivals bidding against them had caused heavy losses. If not for that, her father would never have had to handle the wine yeast matters personally.

Now a life had been lost, and Jiang Man could not say whether she found it unbelievable or simply refused to believe it.

Once the coffin was set in place, she summoned her spirits, scooped up a handful of yellow earth, and took her place behind her cousin.

This was the arrangement of the clan elders. Jiang Man felt it was somewhat improper, but she did not wish to argue with them on the day of the burial, so she silently complied.

An official road linked Jiankang and Lin’an—at least a thousand li each way. Some inexplicable hope had lived in her heart; now that hope had come to nothing.

In all the wide world, standing before her father’s grave, Jiang Man felt utterly alone.

A sedan chair had been prepared for the return journey. The steward asked twice; Jiang Man would not sit, and the empty chair was taken by the cousin who had carried the banner. Two maids walked at the very end, and Jiang Man returned on foot, watching the blackened snow-mud underfoot.

This funeral had cost dearly. With the year’s end approaching, many creditors would come calling to settle accounts. Once the guests were seen off, Jiang Man would soon enter the mourning hall to keep vigil. She was the only one holding the family together now, stretched thin on every side—how was the business to be managed?

What schemes these swarming people harbored, she could not yet know. If they had only come to mourn Jiang Rao, she would thank each in turn.

But if they meant to take over the wine workshop…

The snow fell harder and harder.

Back at the Jiang Residence, on her way to inspect the funeral feast preparations in the side hall, Jiang Man glimpsed a young servant hurrying out of the main hall. Seeing her, he bowed. “Young Miss, the Second Master asks for you.”

Jiang Man stopped.

Someone at her side immediately rebuked him: “Where did this little whelp come from, and how dare he speak to the Young Miss so? This is the Master’s residence—what ‘Second Master’ dares order our Young Miss about?”

“Ai, forgive me, Young Miss, Sister Ke!” The servant slapped his own cheeks twice.

Jiang Man stopped him. “Did the Second Master say what this is about?”

“This humble one dared not ask.” The servant clasped his hands. “The gentlemen of the clan have been taking tea for quite a while now. Perhaps they’ve waited long enough and find themselves short of someone to host.”

Jiang Man was silent a moment, then waved a hand. “Go. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes.” The servant withdrew.

“It’s cold today, Young Miss—you’re chilled through. Shall you change clothes before going to the side hall?” The maid kept close at her side.

Jiang Man shook her head. “There is still much to arrange. There’s no hurry.”

“Shall this humble one have some ginger soup sent over, and a round prepared for the guests gathered in the main hall, to drive out the chill?”

Jiang Man considered. “You’re thoughtful.” But when she finished speaking, the attendant still had not moved. “What is it?”

“The Young Miss cannot be left alone.” Just as the maid was about to explain, a sharp crack sounded from the direction of the main hall.

The servant who had delivered the message came tumbling out, clutching his chest, unable to rise.

Jiang Man walked over—just as Second Master Jiang emerged. Seeing her, he sneered, “And here I thought we couldn’t fetch you these days. What, last year you came of age and bound your hair, and this year you think yourself someone of consequence? You dare disobey your elders now?”

Jiang Man kept her eyes lowered. “I would not dare. It is only that the affairs…”

“Tch. Spare me the official airs—you’re not worthy of them.” Second Master Jiang kicked aside the servant sprawled on the threshold. “Bring me that steward, Jiang Yun. It’s time we settled accounts properly with you, Second Young Miss.”

Jiang Man glanced toward the servants waiting in the corner—but they stood frozen, none willing to help up the fallen boy.

Only one old servant, hearing Second Master Jiang’s words, went off toward the accounting room without so much as a glance at Jiang Man.

How, in so short a time, had the household changed hands?

The blow struck her like a bolt from the blue. She entered the hall and saw the two rows of wooden chairs filled with mourners in hemp and filial white, and her mind went blank.

Were they truly so eager to snatch at advantages?

A puddle of tea lay on the blue stone floor, still steaming. The porcelain had been smashed to pieces, right before her eyes.

Jiang Man collected herself, forced calm, and sat in the last empty seat, calculating how much she could give up without wounding the root of the wine workshop.

With no one at the head of the family now, these elders had taken great pains over the funeral. Ceding a few of the wine houses to their management could be framed as clan harmony, mutual support—face preserved all around.

Jiang Man managed the inner household and was unfamiliar with the workshop’s operations; she had already intended as much.

She had meant to discuss it after the first seven days of mourning.

But today, judging by Second Master Jiang’s attitude, these clan elders holding themselves high and aloof, and the servants already growing disloyal… she feared the visitors came with ill intent.

In the freezing cold, snow on the ends of her hair, Jiang Man had not yet been brought so much as a hand warmer when the man at the head spoke.

“Our Second Young Miss is my third brother’s only daughter, after all—it wouldn’t do for her dowry to be too thin. I say we prepare thirty bolts of assorted silks, four sets of gold head ornaments, a hundred mu of good farmland behind Mount Zhong, and fifty taels of gold. What say you, fathers and brothers?”

“I think Second Brother’s plan is fine.”

“Second Brother speaks well. An excellent arrangement.”

The company chimed in one after another.

The din filled her ears. Jiang Man sat frozen, unable to believe it.

What were they saying?

“What is it,” Second Master Jiang looked down on her, “you think it too little?”

“My father’s bones are not yet cold, and the Second Master already plays matchmaker for me?” Jiang Man lifted her eyes, hands folded, pressed hard against her knees.

She would not let anyone see her fear.

“Jiang Man! Hah. No respect for elders—is this how your father raised you? I consider your interests, and you give me that look? You dare use such a manner with your second uncle?”

Jiang Man held her tongue: “My marriage, after the mourning period, will no doubt be arranged by the clan elders. Since the family split, my father and the Second Master have had little dealings. This decision, I fear, is not the Second Master’s to make—”

Her head snapped to the side.

A resounding slap, square across Jiang Man’s face.

The faint taste of blood on her tongue. Jiang Man showed no emotion, only swept her gaze across the room.

The main hall was packed with clansmen, old and young—and not one of them raised a voice to stop it.

“I ask the Second Master to reconsider.” The maid knelt, eyes downcast.

Second Master Jiang kicked her in the chest.

Jiang Man rose. “Second Master!”

He turned his head and gave her a glance of utter contempt, saying slowly, “I discipline my own servant girl. What business is it of yours?”

“Your servant girl?”

“Who wore the heavy mourning for your father today? Was it not my son? Who carried the banner and called back the dead for your father? Was it not my son?” Second Master Jiang’s eyes were as if he looked upon a stray dog. “If my son cannot inherit this estate, is it to be squandered at your bidding? What are you, you dreg?”

No one spoke. The room might have been filled with corpses.

Jiang Man said, word by word, “My brother is not dead yet.”

Her father had only just been laid in the ground, and the household still had its rightful heir—yet they dared devour the fatherless estate?

What manner of people were these?

Since when had they been plotting this slow devouring?

Second Master Jiang gave a cold laugh. “How do you know your brother isn’t dead?”

The color drained from Jiang Man’s face. “What did you say?”

“A base-born wretch, orphaned of both parents, dares to lash out at her betters! Fine—today, in my third brother’s stead, I shall teach you a proper lesson!” Second Master Jiang gathered his sleeves and raised his hand to strike.

Jiang Man stood where she was. She did not dodge, only stared him down.

What outrage would he dare commit today?

The maid threw herself forward: “Young Miss, beware!”

Another resounding crack—the maid took the blow on her back and collapsed at once. Jiang Man’s heart lurched; she reached out to catch her, but a hand seized her shoulder and shoved her down onto a chair. Jiang Man fell with the chair, a dull groan escaping as her shoulder took the impact—yet the sound roused no one.

They had been roused by something else: a commotion at the front gate.

Had Uncle Yun come with men? Jiang Man looked over and saw only a long dark column of people trailing behind—and at its head, a figure entirely unfamiliar.

The newcomer wore a black top and red skirt, striking and unrestrained, skin whiter than snow. The scene she left behind her thinned to paper, while she herself, thick as ink that would not dissolve, became a single drop of ink held in perfect restraint beneath the courtyard wall.

At some point the great snow had stopped; the wind and everything scattered across the ground became her backdrop.

Second Master Jiang’s expression shifted. He stepped over the threshold, about to question the arrival.

The newcomer paid him no heed and helped Jiang Man up. Jiang Man bowed her head in thanks. “Are you a guest of the wine workshop?”

“My name is Shen Wen.” She glanced once around the room, then back at Jiang Man, waiting until their eyes met before saying, “I have come to collect a debt.”