The eighth day of the month.
The weather was fair.
Favorable: traveling, moving, opening a business, signing contracts, planting trees.
Unfavorable: none.
A carriage slowly made its way towards Kan'er Village.
Along the way, the mountains were cold and the water was chilly, yet there were no riotous refugees.
Green shoots emerged from beneath the snow.
The mountains were a patchwork of white and green.
The carriage driver thought this journey was extremely treacherous and prepared to risk his life, but the reward was truly high, so he risked his life anyway.
Unexpectedly, upon entering the jurisdiction of Ming County, he felt a sense of tranquility.
He even saw a tea stall.
An old woman and a young man were running the stall.
On this winter day, steam rose from the hot tea.
The carriage stopped.
A white, elegant hand emerged from the carriage curtain.
Some people exude such grace with just one hand that it sets your imagination soaring.
One would think a stunning beauty was seated inside the carriage.
But when the curtain was drawn back, it revealed an old woman with a face full of wrinkles.
Her face was riddled with wrinkles and dark spots, bearing no resemblance to a beauty.
Yet, when she alighted from the carriage, walked, and sat down, she carried an air that made one think they were seeing a noble lady or exquisite beauty.
She seemed extremely distinguished.
The old woman took a sip of tea and rested for a while before boarding the carriage again.
Meanwhile, the carriage driver inquired,
"How do I get to Kan'er Village? Is it far from here?"
"Not far, just around this mountain. When you see the village entrance bustling with many people, that will be Kan'er Village. Big brother, are you visiting relatives?"
"I'm just delivering someone. I'm the carriage driver, taking a passenger here. I don't know what business my passenger has, it's not my place to pry. Perhaps they are visiting relatives." The driver laughed.
He noticed the old woman carried only a small bundle, likely just a change of clothes.
Yin Ping sat upright in the carriage.
Even though she was the sole occupant, she sat with perfect poise.
Grace and elegance were ingrained in her very bones.
The carriage continued on its way.
The sound of the horses' hooves clop-clopped.
The swaying curtain occasionally afforded glimpses of the surrounding mountains and forests.
This part of the journey was relatively flat.
Yin Ping, her surname was Yin, and her given name was Ping.
Yin Ping.
She had endured a tumultuous life filled with twists and turns.
She never imagined that at the age of fifty, with silver-streaked hair, she would find herself riding alone in a carriage to a village to serve as a tutor for two country girls.
The rumbling of the carriage wheels echoed all around.
She sat alone.
Reminiscing about her life's journey.
Born into poverty, she was sold as a child. By good fortune, she was sold into the imperial palace.
She couldn't remember where her family was from, who her parents were, or who else was in her family.
Her memories began with the palace nursemaid who raised her.
She remembered the nursemaid's whip, dampened with water, which stung when striking but left no marks.
The nursemaid gave her the name Ping Zhi.
She was instructed to listen more and speak less, to shut out all irrelevant matters in order to survive.
The nursemaid would also reward her with pastries.
The nursemaid said she was very quick-witted, the best student, and could one day attend to the nobles.
But the nursemaid also warned that even attending to the nobles didn't guarantee a good life – she must still listen more and speak less, and simply surviving would be a blessing.
Before her training was complete, that nursemaid passed away.
She didn't know whom the nursemaid had offended, what she had seen, or what she had said.
Yin Ping grew up in the darkest chambers of the palace's harem.
Starting from the most menial chores.
Gradually advancing, changing locations.
As the nursemaid had foretold, she ended up attending to the nobles.
She rose through the ranks from lowly palace maid to senior servant to nursemaid.
Step by step, she climbed the ladder among the inconspicuous servants in the palace harem.
The group of young maids who arrived with her all perished.
Those who came a year before her also died.
Those who came a year after her also died.
She alone survived.
And ultimately left the palace alive.
She was no longer called Ping Zhi.
She changed her name and settled into a suitable marriage under the surname Yin, taking the name Ping.
She thought that after enduring so much suffering, barely surviving by sheer luck, her life would improve.
She didn't seek great wealth or status, only hoping to live out her remaining years in peace.
But unexpectedly, her husband was forced to his death, and she was imprisoned and nearly starved to death by his unfilial sons.
Ultimately, she was accidentally rescued during a rebel uprising.
She used the rebels to eliminate those unfilial sons, but then the rebel leader summoned her and asked her to undertake a task.
To serve as a tutor for two young girls.
From General Zi's tone, she gathered that one girl was older, perhaps to be married off in a year or two, while she was primarily tasked with teaching the younger one.
Having spent a lifetime clawing her way through the palace harem to survive, Yin Ping was highly pragmatic and immediately agreed.
Before coming, she had inquired about the family and was informed by General Zi's people.
When she heard that the young girl's father had once been branded an unfilial son, she was initially repulsed.
She despised unfilial sons, just like her husband's wicked sons.
However, she had no right to be choosy.
She had no opportunity to select.
Even if General Zi said she could refuse, he could simply find someone else, allowing her to return.
But she knew that without General Zi's protection, she, an elderly widow, would not survive long in this chaotic world.
After dividing her late husband's remaining wealth among the elderly and infirm of his clan, she packed a small bundle and boarded the carriage.
The biting cold wind whipped.
The distant mountains rose in layers.
Her graying hair whipped in the wind.
