At Seven Jin’s third-day celebration, Dou Zhao encountered Dou Ming.
Dou Ming wore a bright red silk jacket embroidered with butterflies and flowers. She carried herself haughtily, hardly acknowledging others as she followed behind the crowd. Only when it was her turn to offer a gift did she step forward to toss a few silver coins? In contrast, Dou Zhao found herself surrounded by people. When it was her turn, everyone joked, “Let’s see what Fourth Young Lady gives so we can follow suit!”
Dou Zhao couldn’t help but feel sentimental.
In her previous life, she had been like Dou Ming – disinterested in Dou’s family affairs and merely showing up for appearances. But in this life, Dou Ming hadn’t achieved the same popularity Dou Zhao now enjoyed. The Dou family women treated Dou Ming politely but distantly, showing that some things couldn’t be gained through sheer force of will alone.
The day after the celebration, Song Mo escorted Dou Zhao back to Duke Ying’s mansion.
The delighted servants, led by Gao Xing, came to pay their respects to Dou Zhao and report on events that occurred during her absence.
Sipping her favorite Da Hong Pao tea from her usual pink plum blossom teacup, Dou Zhao leaned against the large cushion Su Xin had personally sewn. She sighed contentedly, thinking to herself, “Home sweet home!” She hardly realized she’d only been married for just over a month.
That night, the briefly separated couple indulged in marital bliss until the third watch drum sounded.
Song Mo, like a satiated lion, lazily caressed Dou Zhao’s delicate curves.
Dou Zhao seemed distracted.
Displeased, Song Mo pulled her into his arms. “What are you thinking about? You seem lost in thought.”
“I’m thinking about my cousin,” Dou Zhao replied, returning his embrace and gently patting his back as if soothing a restless child.
Even more annoyed, Song Mo asked, “What about your cousin?”
Any sensible married woman knew to maintain face for both her natal and marital families. In her previous life, even when relations with the Dou family were strained, Dou Zhao never spoke ill of them to Wei Tingyu. But now, without hesitation, she told Song Mo about Zhao Zhangru. Deep down, she was certain that no matter her faults, Song Mo would neither look down on her nor mock her family’s affairs.
“I used to think my cousin was simply carefree, but now I realize she understands things all too well,” Dou Zhao mused. “She always acts naive to comfort those of us who worry about her. The more she does this, the more I want to help. But a woman’s marriage is like being reborn – I’m still figuring out my own life, how can I meddle in hers?”
This exemplified the saying: the more you care, the harder it is to know what to do.
Song Mo pressed his face close, whispering suggestively in her ear, “Call me ‘dear husband’ and I’ll help you with this!”
Dou Zhao’s face flushed. She scolded him with a “Pah!”
Song Mo persisted, knowing she was ticklish. He lightly tickled her waist as Dou Zhao dodged left and right, her clear laughter ringing like silver bells throughout the room.
Before long, they tumbled together again…
In the end, Song Mo got his way.
Between kisses on Dou Zhao’s smooth, round shoulders, he mumbled, “Finding a man isn’t hard. The Imperial Guard has plenty! Don’t worry, ask your aunt to stay in the capital for a few more days. I’ll surely find a suitable match for your cousin!”
Men in the Imperial Guard typically came from good backgrounds, which provided some assurance.
Dou Zhao reminded Song Mo, “My uncle’s family needs a son-in-law to marry into their household!”
“That’s even easier,” Song Mo replied distractedly. “They must have brothers in their families. Through family connections, we can surely find someone suitable.”
That made sense.
Besides, Song Mo certainly knew far more people than she did, confined to the inner courtyard.
Having made up her mind, but not wanting to reveal too much since nothing was certain, Dou Zhao didn’t confide in her aunt. She only mentioned plans to visit Kaiyuan Temple with Sixth Aunt on the tenth day of the tenth month, inviting her aunt to join them. She added, “They say praying to the Thousand-Armed Guanyin at Kaiyuan Temple is most effective for finding a good match.”
As expected, her aunt was intrigued and decided to delay her departure until after the tenth.
The very next day, Song Mo went to the Ministry of War and found Zheng An, the Director of Military Selection. “I need a list of unmarried Imperial Guards between 18 and 24 years old, at least five feet tall, with decent looks, who aren’t only sons. Preference for those who are educated.”
Zheng An was stunned. He frowned almost imperceptibly and said, “Does Your Highness have an imperial edict or authorization from the Five Chief Military Commanders or the Minister of War?”
“No,” Song Mo replied candidly, meeting Zheng An’s gaze.
Zheng An hesitated before saying, “Forgive me, Your Highness, but the Imperial Guard protects His Majesty. Their roster cannot be casually shared.”
Song Mo nodded and left without another word.
Zheng An felt uneasy but soon relaxed. The following protocol meant he couldn’t be blamed even if his superiors were displeased.
However, that afternoon, Zheng An was summoned by his superior, Right Vice Minister Quan Ziyi.
“Since the Qiu Lingwei incident, the Ministry of Personnel has been clamoring to investigate our hereditary appointments over the past decade. They brought it up again at this morning’s cabinet meeting,” Quan Ziyi said with a smile. “I think we should let them look into it to put the matter to rest. You’re a veteran of the War Ministry who oversees Military Selection and regularly deals with Personnel Ministry clerks. I’m entrusting this task to you. Handle it well, but don’t give them any reason to find fault.”
Caught off guard, Zheng An could only comply, enlisting some senior clerks from Military Selection to help review the records.
As the workday neared its end, Zheng An naturally had to arrange dinner for the Personnel Ministry staff.
He returned to his office to change clothes but found the Military Selection Chief Registrar and seven or eight others copying documents in the archives room. As they worked, one asked, “What standard should we use for ‘decent looks’?”
To prevent identity fraud, each person’s physical features were recorded in their file.
Zheng An immediately realized Song Mo’s intentions.
He entered the archives room with a stern expression.
The Chief Registrar greeted him with a big smile. “Director Zheng, you’re back! Do you have any instructions?”
Zheng An pointed at the scattered records and asked, “Who ordered you to copy these?”
The Registrar replied, “Vice Minister Quan, sir! He said you’d be busy entertaining the Personnel Ministry staff and told us not to trouble you.”
Zheng An felt a lump in his throat but couldn’t say anything in front of the Registrar.
He nodded slightly and slowly left the archives room.
Behind him, he heard the Registrar’s voice, unclear if intentional or not: “Hurry up, everyone! Duke Ying’s heir said he needs this by tonight!”
After finishing his obligations with the Personnel Ministry staff, Zheng An returned home, his mind unsettled.