DBB – Chapter 18: New Year’s Eve

For the New Year’s Eve reunion dinner, Father had the servants set up a table in the pavilion by the lake, with lanterns hanging all around and lotus lamps floating on the water. In the evening, he sat together with Concubine Song and the younger sisters, while Concubine Guo and Concubine Du, lacking the same status, remained standing to attend to them.

Father said, “The kitchen has prepared dumplings filled with three delicacies, cabbage, and shepherd’s purse. Some have golden beans inside, so be careful while eating.” His refined face was lit with cheer, as if the unpleasantness with Mother over the past few days had never happened.

Jinchao, however, frowned slightly in disapproval. Gu Xi was only eight years old—what if she accidentally swallowed one of those beans? It seemed Father hadn’t considered the risks.

Gu Lan smiled. “That’s an auspicious sign. Whoever gets a golden bean will surely have a smooth and fortunate year ahead.”

In the end, everyone ended up with a golden bean. Jinchao even received two, which she tucked into her pouch for safekeeping.

Once the dumplings and main dishes were finished, the kitchen brought out desserts—frozen pears, red date cakes, persimmon pastries, and sugar-dusted pear crisps, all arranged on elegant porcelain trays and tall dessert stands. However, before the sweets could be served, Jinchao rose from her seat. “Father, please continue enjoying the meal. I’m afraid I must excuse myself.”

As soon as she stood up, Gu Lan’s eyes flickered toward her, her expression still warm with a smile, but her gaze unreadable.

Seated beside Jinchao, Concubine Song gently grasped her hand, smiling softly. “Jinchao, do you have some urgent matter? Leaving the New Year’s Eve dinner early isn’t a good sign, you know.”

Jinchao returned the smile. “I was just thinking that Mother must be lonely in her quarters. I’d like to go and keep her company.”

Father nodded approvingly. “She’s sensitive to the cold. Being alone in Xiexiao Garden must be quite dull for her. Go, then—it’s good that you’re thinking of her.”

Gu Jinrong looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he turned away, watching the lotus lamps drifting on the lake. The cool night breeze stirred the water, causing the glowing lights to shimmer like scattered stars. Jinchao, too, glanced back at the floating lanterns before leaving.

Lotus lamps…

She recalled her first year at the Chen family estate, when Third Master Chen had hosted a grand Lantern Festival. Chen Xuanqing had prepared an entire lake of lotus lamps for Yu Wanxue. From a distant stream, the lights flowed down in a dazzling cascade, like a river of stars merging into the lake, outshining every other lantern at the festival.

Back then, she had thought of him as reserved and restrained, someone who kept his emotions hidden. She hadn’t realized that when he truly cherished someone, he could treasure them so deeply, so wholeheartedly.

Watching it had felt like a thorn in her eye, an unbearable discomfort.

When the festival ended and the crowds dispersed, she had lingered by the lake, reaching out carefully to retrieve one of those drifting lamps. She had placed it in her study, holding onto it as if it were a secret, a stolen token of affection. Just by grasping that lamp, her heart had raced, fooling herself into believing—just for a moment—that it had been meant for her.

But that was all in the past.

As the warm glow of Xiexiao Garden came into view, Jinchao smiled.

Mother was still awake. Xu Mama was helping her wash her face and hands, the dim candlelight casting a soft glow over the room. But the silence was heavy, a stark contrast to the lively laughter in the pavilion.

Jinchao thought of the cheerful voices she had just left behind.

When Madam Gu saw her, her face lit up with delight. She beckoned her over to sit by her side, though she couldn’t resist chiding her lightly. “Leaving the reunion dinner so early—how bold of you.”

Jinchao rested her head against her mother’s shoulder, her voice filled with affection. “How could it be a reunion dinner without you?”

She pulled out her pouch, smiling as she opened it. “I found two golden beans in my dumplings. I’ll hang them on your bed canopy for good fortune.”

Madam Gu chuckled as she looked at her daughter, who still seemed like a child in moments like these. She called for Xu Mama to fetch red silk thread, and together, they carefully tied the beans into a clustered plum blossom knot before hanging them from the bed’s canopy. Feeling playful, she then suggested, “Jinchao, stay up late with me tonight. Let’s keep vigil for the New Year together.”

Jinchao laughed. “Of course! But just sitting and waiting doesn’t sound very fun.” She urged Xu Mama to bring out more colored threads so they could make decorative knots together. As she took up a strand of silk, she added playfully, “Mother’s knots are always the prettiest—you must make plenty for me!”

Madam Gu shook her head with a helpless smile but humored her, selecting a few threads and starting to weave. Her hands moved deftly, twisting the silk into intricate designs—incense braids, rising towers, interlocked squares, and lotus eye patterns, each one forming with remarkable precision.

Jinchao watched her mother’s skilled fingers at work, thinking, There are so many things she excels at that I don’t.

It seemed that every mother possessed a set of talents their daughters could never quite master.

Just then, most of the household staff had left to enjoy their own New Year’s meal, leaving only Xu Mama in the room with them. The atmosphere was quiet and warm, so much so that no one even noticed the soft footsteps approaching the door.

“Mother…”

It was Gu Jinrong’s voice.

He stepped past the screen, holding a small embroidered pouch.

Noticing all eyes on him, he frowned slightly before inclining his head toward Jinchao. “Elder Sister.”

Jinchao glanced at him before looking back at her mother, whose smile widened at the sight of her son. She playfully teased, “Did you come bearing golden beans as well?”

Gu Jinrong’s expression faltered in surprise. “How did you know?”

Madam Gu glanced at the navy-blue pouch embroidered with the Three Friends of Winter in Gu Jinrong’s hand and smiled. “Are you here for the same reason, Rong’er? Bringing golden beans to your mother as well?”

Gu Jinrong looked slightly puzzled. “How did Mother know?”

Madam Gu pointed toward the inner chamber’s bed canopy. “Your sister brought some earlier—seems the two of you had the same thought.”

Gu Jinrong coughed lightly, tightening his grip on the pouch. How was he supposed to know that Gu Jinchao had thought of the same thing?

Jinchao, however, simply smiled. “We were just making decorative knots. Do you want to join us?”

Gu Jinrong pressed his lips together. “No need. Second Sister invited me to keep watch for the New Year with her.”

Jinchao picked up the coldness in his voice and thought to herself, He’s only twelve. He’s not old enough to even pretend at being amicable with me. She merely nodded and said casually, “Then go ahead.”

Gu Jinrong turned to leave but caught a glimpse of Jinchao speaking with their mother, examining the knot she had just made. The warm candlelight cast a gentle glow on her profile, and for a fleeting moment, he thought—was he mistaken, or did she actually bear some resemblance to Mother?

He quickly dismissed the thought. Jinchao had never looked like their mother. If anything, she took after their maternal grandmother in her youth—radiantly beautiful, like a blossoming crabapple tree.

Yet, despite himself, his steps slowed.

His mother was still unwell, and here he was, about to leave her alone to spend the night with his second sister. Wouldn’t that be unfilial of him?

After a pause, he stepped forward and said stiffly, “Since Eldest Sister invited me, I should stay and accompany Mother a little longer.” He then turned to his pageboy and instructed him to send word to Gu Lan that he wouldn’t be coming.

Xu Mama watched his awkward expression and chuckled, fetching more silk threads for the three of them. After some time spent making knots, Jinchao suddenly had an idea and sent for a white radish from the kitchen’s root cellar.

Madam Gu was puzzled. “What are you planning to do with that?”

Jinchao only smiled mysteriously and gave no answer.

When the radish arrived, she asked for a small knife used for trimming threads. With nimble fingers, she began carving.

Not only Madam Gu and Xu Mama but even Gu Jinrong found himself watching intently, unable to look away. Jinchao’s hands moved with practiced ease, and before long, a delicate figure of Chang’e appeared in the radish—complete with flowing sleeves, billowing robes, and a small jade rabbit cradled in her arms.

Madam Gu, utterly surprised, clicked her tongue in admiration. “My Jinchao is truly skilled with her hands.”

Jinchao spun the knife between her fingers and recited,

“The crystal screen reflects candle shadows deep,
The Milky Way fades as dawn begins to creep.
Chang’e must regret stealing the elixir’s glow,
For in boundless blue skies, loneliness she must know.”¹

A sudden melancholy flashed through her heart.

“Chang’e must regret stealing the elixir’s glow, for in boundless blue skies, loneliness she must know.” Wasn’t this her fate as well?

She had caused Yu Wanxue to lose her child, and so, in return, she had spent her last life imprisoned, dying alone in that small courtyard.

She remembered how, after Yu Wanxue had fallen from grace, she would often visit her. Having lost the ability to bear children after her miscarriage, and with Chen Xuanqing taking concubines, Yu Wanxue had grown lonely. So, she had come to Jinchao, bringing gifts, sitting by her side, speaking softly.

She had been sincere, truly kind to her.

But Jinchao, blinded by resentment and jealousy, had repaid her kindness with cruelty.

Madam Gu’s voice broke through her thoughts. “A pity. This would be perfect for the Mid-Autumn Festival, but for New Year’s Eve, a qilin² would be more fitting—an omen of prosperity.”

Jinchao quickly shook off her wandering thoughts and waved her hands. “I wouldn’t know how to carve that. I can only do Chang’e.”

Gu Jinrong, however, kept staring at her. Had he imagined it? For a brief moment, he had thought… she looked lonely.

Since they were supposed to stay up late for the New Year’s vigil, Mother, still weak from illness, eventually grew drowsy and retired to bed early. Left alone with Jinchao, Gu Jinrong found himself at a loss for words. Just then, the maids returned, and Jinchao instructed Mo Yu to bring over a board of Go.

Jinchao smiled. “If you’re feeling restless, I can play a few rounds with you.”

Gu Jinrong was skeptical. He didn’t believe she could actually play well. Sure enough, after just a few rounds, she was completely defeated. But instead of making excuses, she admitted openly, “I’m just a dabbler. This is as far as I go.” Then she added, “You should get some rest. We have the ancestral rites tomorrow morning. I can keep the vigil alone.”

The way she conceded so easily left Gu Jinrong slightly taken aback. She seemed easygoing, almost carefree. After a pause, he murmured, “At least you know how to play…”

It was meant as a compliment—Gu Lan, after all, didn’t know how.

But the moment he said it, he felt awkward. The words didn’t sound quite right, and he had no idea how to explain himself.

As he left Xiexiao Garden, he glanced back once more.

For some reason, he wasn’t quite sure anymore—was his eldest sister truly the person others claimed she was? Or the one Gu Lan had always described?

There was something about her that felt… different.

Something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Outside the garden, a young maid was waiting for him. He recognized her—it was Mu Jin, one of Gu Lan’s attendants.

She smiled and curtsied. “Second Miss is still waiting for you.”

Gu Jinrong frowned slightly, a trace of guilt flashing in his eyes. His voice carried both concern and a hint of reproach. “Second Sister is still up? She really… She shouldn’t be waiting this late.”

Still, despite his words, he quickened his pace toward Cui Xuan Courtyard.

1. This verse is adapted from the famous Tang dynasty poem Chang’e (嫦娥) by Li Shangyin (李商隐). The poem reflects on the legend of Chang’e, the Moon Goddess in Chinese folklore. According to the myth, Chang’e was the wife of the archer Hou Yi, who shot down nine of the ten suns scorching the earth. As a reward, he was given an elixir of immortality. However, when a treacherous disciple tried to steal it, Chang’e consumed the elixir to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. As a result, she ascended alone to the moon, where she remains for eternity, accompanied only by a jade rabbit.
   Chang’e’s story is often associated with themes of sacrifice, solitude, and longing. During the Mid-Autumn Festival, people celebrate her legend by gazing at the full moon, eating mooncakes, and offering prayers for reunion and happiness. Jinchao’s recitation of the poem in this moment carries a deep sense of melancholy, as she identifies with Chang’e’s isolation—trapped in regret and destined to face the consequences of her past choices alone.
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2. The Qilin is a legendary creature in Chinese mythology, often depicted as a chimeric beast with features resembling a deer, dragon, ox, or horse, covered in scales and sometimes with flames around its body. It is considered a benevolent and auspicious creature, symbolizing peace, prosperity, and the arrival of great leaders or sages. The appearance of a Qilin was believed to foretell the birth of a virtuous ruler, and in historical texts, it is said to have appeared before the birth of Confucius. Unlike fierce mythical creatures, the Qilin is gentle, walking on clouds or water to avoid harming even a blade of grass. It remains a powerful symbol of good fortune and divine protection in Chinese culture.
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