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out the Manchu. Once we’re gone, apparently, all the troubles of the world will be over.” He sighed. “They’re even promising their own heavenly kingdom—a Taiping, as they call it. Good luck with that!”

“They say the Hakka are good fighters. Could the revolt grow?”

“I doubt it.” His uncle shook his head. “They’ve already made one huge mistake. Their leader follows the barbarians’ Christian god. Our country people won’t like that.”

“I don’t really know what Christians are,” Guanji confessed.

“They have one chief god and two lesser gods. One of those is called Jesus.”

“I’ve heard the name.”

“Well,” said his uncle, “this Hakka, the Taiping leader, says he’s Jesus’s younger brother.” He laughed. “Nothing will come of them.”

—

It was a year later that Ilha returned to Zhapu on a visit with her husband and their infant son. They had come for an important occasion. In fact, it was for a family triumph.

If her father’s career had been a series of modest successes—printing a prestigious book, securing an extra pension for a member of the family—each one designed to add in some small way to his family’s advancement, this time he’d outdone himself.

“The emperor himself is honoring our family,” he told them. And not just with the usual written memorial. “We have permission to erect a ceremonial arch,” he announced triumphantly, “by the garrison gate in Zhapu.”

It was all on account of a virtuous woman, the kind the Chinese most admired—the loyal widow.

“My father had several children,” his uncle would relate, “but only one son lived long enough to marry. Soon after marrying, however, and before producing an heir, he died. His widow was young and beautiful. Many men wanted her. Her duty was to look after her father-in-law, who was getting to be an old man. But she went further. Refusing to let her husband’s family die out, she found her old father-in-law a young wife and persuaded him to marry her. Thanks to that, Guanji, your father and I were born. When the old man died, the two widows brought us up at first. Then my young mother became sick and died, which left only that loyal daughter-in-law, whom we always called Grandmother. She looked after us. She slaved for us. She was the rock on which this family is founded. She died the year you were born. The most virtuous woman I have ever known. And now the emperor himself is honoring her.”

The celebrations for the arch were attended by the local magistrate, numerous officials, and all the family. In the evening there were fireworks. Then the family returned to their compound.

—

Guanji knew that Ilha was going to tease her father that night. He could see the mischievous glint in her eye. It was done with affection, of course. She started as soon as they’d all sat down. “Well, Father,” she inquired, “are you satisfied now?”

Her father gave her a cautious look. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m puzzled.” She smiled. “That’s all.”

“Why are you puzzled?” he asked suspiciously.

“The virtuous widow. Preserving the family so that the ancestors will have descendants to remember them. It’s all very Confucian. Very Han Chinese.”

“That is true.”

“Yet you’re always reminding us that we’re Manchu. We’re not supposed to worry about the smaller family so much. It’s the clan that matters. And the clan’s plentiful. The spirit pole of the clan is well cared for in Beijing. The noble Fiongdon has plenty of descendants.”

Her father gazed at her. He knew he was being teased, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “Treat your father and your family with more respect,” he said firmly.

Ilha wasn’t deterred at all. “I’m a Manchu lady, Father, not Han Chinese. Manchu girls walk tall and straight. We don’t bind our feet. And we say what we think. Even the great khans of old used to take advice from their wives and mothers. It’s well recorded.”

“I doubt they took any cheek from their daughters,” her father retorted. “In any case, there are many things that are noble in Chinese tradition. Confucian loyalty and correct behavior, in particular. We Manchu are the guardians of China, so the emperor is encouraging us to celebrate virtuous women.” He gave her an admonishing look. “And if it’s good enough for the emperor, it’s good enough for you.”

“Yes, Father,” she said obediently.

But she wasn’t quite done. Maybe she’d drunk a little more rice wine than she should have. It was always the men who drank most of the wine, but everyone was celebrating that night. Whatever the cause, at the very end of the evening, she turned to her family with a big smile and addressed them all.

“Say thank you to Father,” she cried, “for all he has done for you. He’s raised the family yet again. Every rich man and mandarin in Hangzhou owes him gratitude. Every scholar at the West Lake is his friend. Now the emperor himself honors us with a family arch in Zhapu. And you know what? This is only the beginning. He has plans for us all. I had the easiest task. All I had to do was marry a worthy man.” She beamed at her husband. “I’ve no complaints. Thank you, Father.” She turned to her brothers. “But he has plans for every one of you. You’re going to be rich and powerful. And Guanji’s going to be a general, aren’t you, Guanji?” She laughed. “He doesn’t know it yet, but Father will arrange that, too, I’m sure. We’re all part of his great scheme. His wonderful plan for the glory of our family.”

“Be quiet, Ilha,” said her mother. “It’s time to go to bed.”

So the evening ended. Only Guanji was frowning a little.

—

When Guanji woke at the first hint of dawn, he decided to go for a ride. Nobody else was up. He wanted to think, all by himself.

He was just saddling his horse when his uncle appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and asked, “May I join you?” And although Guanji didn’t really want company,

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