Tomorrow was New Year's Day, so they simply dispensed with a housewarming banquet and moved the family into the new residence.
The main hall was spacious and bright. The Imperially Bestowed Plaque hung high overhead, its four bold characters, "Loyalty to the State," especially striking.
The eastern courtyard was Concubine Zhao's residence. The young women brought gifts to congratulate her, and Lin Daiyu held a basket of flowers she had picked herself: wintersweet, trumpet tree blossoms, freesias, camellias, and more, their petals vivid and their delicate fragrance wafting everywhere.
"May Brother Huan's official career flourish like a splendid cluster of blossoms."
Lin Daiyu's eyes curved into crescents as she handed over the basket.
"Wonderful, wonderful!" Concubine Zhao grinned from ear to ear. Daiyu's words had gone straight to her heart.
"Take them to Huan'er yourself. Caiyun, hurry and show Daiyu the way."
The western courtyard was lavishly decorated, with towers, terraces, pavilions, and gardens all present. Only after passing through several ornamental gates did they reach a small tower.
"Master."
Caiyun pushed the door open and entered.
"Brother Huan, these are for you."
Lin Daiyu wore a pale red crane cloak over an amber-colored lambswool jacket, with little sheepskin boots on her feet.
"How thoughtful." Jia Huan accepted the flower basket and glanced at her pale, bloodless cheeks. With winter's arrival, Lin Daiyu's constitution had deteriorated further, leaving her sickly and listless.
He said softly:
"Tonight, I'll take you to have your illness treated."
Lin Daiyu's eyes brightened, and she stared at him in a daze.
"Third Master Huan, truly?" Zijuan and Xueyan were overjoyed. They could scarcely believe it. Since their mistress's childhood, renowned physicians had been invited from far and wide, yet none had cured her. Every bitter winter brought coughing, and her body grew weaker and weaker.