Chapter 2

# Chapter 2

The Crown Princess Academy stood in the northwest corner of the imperial city, in what had once been Emperor Emeritus’s Lantai Retreat.

It had since been renamed Lanyi Academy.

The name was elegant. Its rules were barely survivable.

Every day we rose at the hour of the rabbit to practice walking. Too fast was frivolous; too slow was sluggish. If a toe pointed half an inch astray, we started over. Long steps were unladylike, short ones lacked presence.

At the hour of the dragon, we practiced smiling.

Showing teeth was wrong. Not smiling was also wrong. Too sincere meant unsophisticated; too faint meant insincere.

After three days, Matron Qi said I smiled like a rent collector.

“My family doesn’t own land,” I said.

She deducted another point.

In the afternoons we studied palace accounts, needlework, the classics, music, and chess. I could not play a tune, attacked too quickly at chess, and could barely mend a tear. Palace accounts were the one thing I read faster than anyone else.

Matron Qi did not care for that talent.

“A woman manages the household to keep her family harmonious,” she told me, “not to argue over right and wrong.”

“If accounts aren’t settled by what’s right, are they settled by who’s angrier?”

Her ruler rose.

Jiang Yanbai happened to pass the window.

The ruler stopped.

I escaped one beating.

There were twenty-eight girls at Lanyi Academy. Most were daughters of officials. A few merchant families had smuggled their daughters in under relatives’ names.

The academy held examinations every three months. At graduation, the empress, crown prince, and Ministry of Rites jointly decided the final rankings.

Grade A meant candidacy for the Eastern Palace.

Grade B meant a marriage granted to a prince or nobleman.

Grade C meant going home to await a match.

Grade D also meant going home.

But a Grade D evaluation followed a girl for the rest of her life.

Impulsive. Unseemly. Disobedient. Ill-fated.

Those few words struck harder than a slap. Some girls would rather enter the Eastern Palace as an unfavored concubine than go home bearing a Grade D.

I was different.

I did not fear a Grade D.

I feared not getting my money back.

Qi Tang sat on my left. Matron Qi scolded her every day for sitting and standing improperly. Qi Tang never grew angry. The moment the matron turned away, she embroidered the mandarin ducks on her hoop into chickens.

Qin Zhaomian sat on my right. She was the legitimate daughter of the Vice Minister of Personnel: quiet, proper, with beautiful handwriting and a beautiful smile. When she practiced etiquette, not even the hem of her robe went astray.

“Do you want to be crown princess?” I asked her.

She looked at me. “Yes.”

The answer came too quickly.

She put away her needlework. “My elder brother is awaiting an appointment outside the capital. My family needs someone in the Eastern Palace.”

“What about you?”

“I am also part of my family.”

It was a perfectly proper answer.

So proper it hurt.

That evening, Jiang Yanbai came to lecture on the *Admonitions for Women*. He spoke at an easy pace, and his voice was pleasant.

I propped my chin in one hand. When he reached the line, “A husband may remarry; a wife may not take a second spouse,” I raised my hand.

Jiang Yanbai looked at me. “A question, Xu Man?”

“Yes.”

“Speak.”

“If a woman’s husband dies, she can’t remarry. But if he becomes poor, can she change households?”

The hall went silent.

Qi Tang buried her face in her sleeve. Qin Zhaomian nudged me, warning me not to court death.

Jiang Yanbai looked down at the book.

After a moment, he said, “The text does not say.”

“Then she can.”

Jiang Yanbai closed the book.

“That concludes today’s lesson.”

Before leaving, he glanced at me.

“Xu Man, report to the accounts office for punishment tomorrow.”

“What punishment?”

“Copy Lanyi Academy’s expenditure ledgers.”

My eyes lit up.

He paused. “You may copy them. You may not calculate.”

“Rest easy, Tutor. My hand is slower than my mind.”

He looked as if he wanted to smile, but did not.