Wang Shi entered and took her seat at the center of the main hall. Caipei immediately set before her a yellow copper foot warmer with a five-circle double-blessing rounded design. Following Wang Shi into the room were two Yiniangs, who stood respectfully to one side. The three young ladies also rose and bowed their heads in greeting. Wang Shi swept her eyes across everyone and waved her hand: “Sit down — it’s quite cold. Build the fire higher.” The last words were directed at the maids. Caihuan immediately took up a curved-handled iron poker from the corner of the room and added some fine silver-thread charcoal to the eight-sided white copper warming brazier with chiseled cloud and dragon patterns in the center of the room. The room grew noticeably warmer.
Rulan pursed her lips and went to sit beside Molan. Minglan, knowing the proper order, sat beside Rulan. Across from them sat the Yiniangs in a row; this side had large chairs with embroidered brocade cushion covers, while the Yiniangs’ side had round stools.
This was the first time Minglan had witnessed the full ceremony of the mistress’s formal reception. She immediately thought of a military review — Wang Shi was only missing shouting a couple of “Comrades, how do you do!” in greeting. Her thoughts were wandering pleasantly when she reined them in and turned her attention to studying the Yiniangs across from her. She had not seen Lin Yiniang in several years, and found her barely aged at all — her face still lovely, her manner graceful and alluring. Xiang Yiniang was not particularly striking in appearance, but had a kind of tender-to-the-bone warmth about her. Ping Yiniang was actually quite a beauty — cherry lips, softly curved brows and gentle eyes — but her expression carried a slight lightness and evasion, and her manner was timid and shrinking, with a certain small and petty air about it.
Their respective origins were: a daughter of a family friend, a personal maid brought into the household with the wife, a concubine gifted by a colleague, and then the deceased Wei Yiniang who had been taken in as a proper concubine from outside the family. Between them, they covered essentially every manner in which a man might acquire a concubine. Minglan thought quietly to herself: Small sparrow, yet all the inner organs in place.
Wang Shi drank a sip of hot tea, then turned to Minglan and asked a few gentle questions about whether she had settled comfortably into her new rooms. Minglan followed strictly the rules of conduct Nanny Fang had taught her, replying to each question with compliant courtesy. Wang Shi had expected, given how long Minglan had been spoiled and indulged at Grandmother Sheng’s side, that she might be somewhat willfully ungovernable — and had been preparing to assert some authority and rein her in. But the girl’s bearing was respectful and proper in every detail, her conduct obedient and measured, and Wang Shi felt inwardly quite reassured.
“…If you find yourself lacking anything, you need only come and tell me.” Wang Shi instructed Minglan with warmth.
Minglan smiled: “With those words, I might have to come along shamelessly asking for things.”
Wang Shi laughed and exchanged a few more words with Minglan, then her eyes moved and she let her expression settle, turning sternly to the group: “Before I came in, what were you sisters quarreling about?”
Minglan’s heart gave a jolt. Wang Shi had directly used the word “quarreling” — this meant she intended to open the matter plainly. Minglan glanced downward at Molan, whose hands were working the handkerchief with unease, while over on the Yiniang side, Lin Yiniang’s lips curved with a faint, contemptuous smile. Minglan understood she was about to be used as a tool. She spoke quietly: “Please forgive me — it was my fault entirely. Today was my first time coming here to pay my respects, and I arrived late. My sisters were teaching me the proper rules.”
Wang Shi looked at her with a brief flash of surprise, then inwardly adjusted her approach — this was after all Grandmother Sheng’s own trained pupil. She turned to Molan and Rulan: “Being a proper elder sister means more than just scolding. Knowing that Sixth Young Miss was coming to pay her respects here for the first time today, you should have reminded her when you saw her at Grandmother Sheng’s for the morning greeting — not stood waiting for your sister to make a misstep so you could put on the air of elder sisters!”
Even Rulan, forthright as she was, caught the meaning beneath those words, and suppressed a laugh: “Mother speaks truly — having failed to remind her, what standing do we have to lecture her?”
Molan kept her head lowered, her expression filled with suppressed fury, her little face flushed red, not a word spoken. Minglan could not help glancing at Lin Yiniang, who appeared perfectly composed. Minglan quietly admired her — her skill was real. She had heard from the Hall of Longevity that no matter how boldly Lin Yiniang acted in private, she never openly crossed Wang Shi, and nothing in her words or actions ever gave Wang Shi a tangible handle against her; yet she had a way of stirring Wang Shi into firing the first shot. This meant that even when things were brought before Sheng Hong, Lin Yiniang had nothing to fear.
Today Wang Shi had, for once, caught a rare opportunity to play out her benevolent stepmother role. She addressed all three young ladies with an amiable expression: “You are sisters by blood — why must you look like swords drawn the moment you meet? Though I did not read with a distinguished teacher as you all have for so many years, I know this much: as brothers and sisters, you have this one life together and no second — you ought to love and cherish each other. When Nanny Kong struck your palms that time, she told you: sisters of the same household must share punishment together. Don’t forget the sting the moment the beating is over.”
Her tone carried authority. All three young ladies rose and bowed their assent. Wang Shi felt very satisfied. She waved her hand, and from the inner room emerged two maids of about fourteen years — one in a silver-red inner jacket with a cyan sleeveless vest, the other in a jade-green long jacket with a ginger-yellow sleeveless vest. They walked forward with bowed heads in respectful deference and curtsied to Minglan at the center of the room. Wang Shi gave a slight nod, then turned to Minglan: “The maids at your side were given to you by Grandmother Sheng, and though they are fine girls, they are somewhat young. Nanny Cui also has family obligations and cannot attend you all day long. I’m assigning you these two — Yinxing and Jiu’er — who are a bit older and steadier, to serve you in your household.”
Minglan laughed inwardly — just as expected. But she was glad she had thought through her response long since. Her expression, however, arranged itself into a look of astonishment: “But having your own capable girls assigned to me — who will be left to serve you?”
Wang Shi smiled and waved her hand, softening her voice: “My original intention was to have you move into the Weirui Pavilion, but Grandmother couldn’t bear to part with you, so you’ve been settled in the Studio of Dusk and Green instead — which is smaller, so fewer people can be assigned there. Even so, you shouldn’t fall too far behind your sisters in proper arrangements. With just these two added, your household will still have fewer people than either of your sisters.”
Rulan affectionately hooked her arm through Minglan’s and smiled: “Mother, you really should have sent Sixth Sister more help ages ago — otherwise when we go to visit her, there’ll be no one to see to us properly!”
Wang Shi shot her daughter a look and mildly reproached her: “Here I thought you were concerned for your sister — turns out you were thinking of your own comfort!”
Rulan stuck out her tongue and smiled with playful sweetness. Xiang Yiniang and Ping Yiniang both laughed along pleasantly. Minglan decided the moment was right, and replied compliantly: “Then I gratefully accept.”
Wang Shi took Minglan’s small hand in hers and said warmly: “…These two, young as they are, have been trained beside me for a few years — they are competent with both indoor and outdoor duties. You needn’t worry about putting them to use.”
Minglan wore an expression of grateful trust: “Girls trained at your side can only be fine ones — I would hold them in respect, not worry at all.”
After a little more conversation, Wang Shi dismissed everyone. Rulan, in particularly high spirits today, sauntered past Molan with her chin lifted. Molan followed without a word, and Minglan fell in behind. The Yiniangs brought up the rear. At the door they all parted ways. Rulan gave a small yawn and headed back to the Weirui Pavilion — most likely to make up her sleep. Lin Yiniang was returning to the Lin Habitat Pavilion; before leaving, she cast a faint glance at Molan — a look that seemed to carry a silent signal. Xiang Yiniang and Ping Yiniang quietly returned to their own rooms. Minglan walked in the direction of the Studio of Dusk and Green; Molan headed toward the library — their paths happened to run side by side.
The winter cold had not yet lifted. A thin sheet of ice lay over the lake; withered leaves dangled from bare branches; scattered flecks of white snow vanished into the earth. The atmosphere was austere and still. The two sisters walked in silence for a stretch, neither acknowledging the other. Molan held herself in, held herself in — and at last could hold no longer: “Sixth Sister is truly lucky — to be regarded so highly. Raised on Grandmother’s side after all — Elder Sister simply cannot catch up, however hard she tries!”
Minglan exhaled slowly. The morning had cost her considerable mental effort, and the last thing she wanted was to spend more energy educating a petulant girl. But after a moment’s thought, she decided it was better to speak plainly now — to avoid endless future conflict. She stopped walking and turned to the attendants beside her: “Yancao, take the two elder sisters’ maids back ahead; have Danju see to them. Xiaotao, Qinsang — go pick out a few smooth round pebbles from the lakeside. My fish basin is too large, and more things in it will look prettier.”
They obeyed and went. Minglan then turned and looked straight at Molan. Molan startled slightly — she too had a crystal-clear mind, and understood immediately what Minglan intended. Recalling the grievances she still had not spoken aloud, and knowing it was better the maids not overhear them, she dismissed her own attendants directly. The two sisters walked to stand beneath a bare, leafless tree.
“What would Sixth Sister like to instruct me in?” Molan clasped a thick fur-lined hand warmer in her arms and spoke coldly, looking toward the distant figures of Xiaotao and Qinsang picking up stones.
Minglan raised an eyebrow and said with a composed expression: “Sister is a discerning person, and clear-minded people need no veiled language. Let us lay out some honest thoughts today.”
Molan heard these forthright words and was taken slightly aback. She glanced sideways at Minglan, who took a slow breath and said fluently: “Since Elder Sister married and left, there are only the few of us sisters remaining at home. I will say something honestly: when it comes to appearance, to talent, and even to Father’s regard — Sister stands first in this household.”
Flattering words please everyone, and Molan was after all a girl of just over ten years. She heard them and her cold expression did indeed soften a fraction. Minglan, seeing a good start, pressed on: “The only thing Fourth Sister lacks is the matter of birth…” Molan’s face immediately darkened. Minglan did not dare to pause, and quickly continued: “…Were Fourth Sister also born of the first wife’s household, she would be entitled to a fate like Elder Sister’s — and more. But Heaven’s arrangement of life decreed otherwise, and gave Fourth Sister this one disadvantage.”
Molan’s eyes held a look of fierce, unconcealed longing. She let out a soft derisive sound through her nose, but her thoughts had at last spread out and moved away from the quarrel just past. Minglan gently steered the conversation toward her real point: “Fourth Sister — speaking something perhaps not my place to say — I too am concubine-born. Apart from Grandmother’s affection, I am inferior to you in every way. Why would Sister trouble herself to be at odds with me?”
Molan started — and looked properly at Minglan. Minglan looked back at her with equal directness. Though Minglan’s form had not yet shed its babyish softness, all the childlike air had left her bearing. Her eyes, dark as lacquered dots, were calm and still as a deep lake — composed, graceful, dignified — like a fully grown adult. Molan hesitated, then said: “Sister overthinks it. I have never been at odds with you. It was only a few words said today.”
For reasons she could not quite explain, Molan felt her own self-possession diminish somewhat. The anger from the verbal exchange a moment ago had also dissolved.
Minglan saw that Molan was unwilling to admit it outright, and did not press further. She smiled: “Master Zhuang once said: all matters in this world ultimately come down to the word ‘interest and harm.’ We are both concubine-born — yet Fourth Sister has Lin Yiniang protecting her above and an elder brother to look out for her below, which surpasses my situation greatly. On the matter of ‘interest,’ I cannot compare. Sister’s appearance is outstanding, as all can see, and her heart holds great ambitions. As for Grandmother’s preferences — Sister knows well: I was raised under Grandmother’s teaching, and know only to go through my days quietly as a wooden figure, eyes downcast. On the matter of ‘harm,’ Sister and I share none of the same at all. We could perfectly well live as sisters in harmony, could we not?”
Molan heard this, and a storm churned within her — partly gratified by being seen so clearly, partly unsettled at being seen through, and unable to find a word of rebuttal. She only covered with a cold laugh: “Sister makes a fine argument. But earlier in the room, you had some teeth of your own!”
Minglan studied Molan’s expression and knew she had been persuaded — though pride still chafed. She smiled: “A person needs face as a tree needs bark. Poor as my situation may be, I must still consider Grandmother’s dignity. To cause a scene in the very first morning greeting I’ve attended — how would that reflect on the one who raised me? It’s the same principle as Fourth Sister needing to protect Lin Yiniang’s face. Those of us who are concubine-born especially cannot allow others to look down on us.”
Molan’s heart gave a sudden knock. She looked Minglan up and down, feeling as though she were meeting her for the first time. She had always prided herself on her verbal sharpness — Rulan, without an ally, lost to her more often than not. Yet today, facing Minglan, she found herself unable to defend herself at all — and strangely, felt that what was being said made perfect sense, each word landing straight in her heart. Proud yet self-doubting, reluctant yet unable to resist — her innermost thoughts had been named precisely, and listening to Minglan’s unhurried tone, that warm and childlike girlish voice, she found that her anger had somehow left her entirely.
Minglan watched the changing expressions move across Molan’s face and knew she had accomplished her goal for the day. This was the great benefit of speaking with a perceptive person — once you laid out the gains and losses plainly, the other person could accept it readily. If this had been Rulan instead, once she gave way to temper, all the reasoning in the world might as well have been directed at her ancestors.
Minglan turned her head away, slowly relaxing her expression, and looked with pleasure at Xiaotao and Qinsang returning with their collection of stones. A faint breeze passed, biting gently at her face — yet she found it only fresh and cool. Her gaze drifted to the two tall, bare, leafless sweet osmanthus trees outside the Hall of Longevity, and a warmth spread soft through her heart — In any case… she did not need Molan’s sincere friendship. Only peaceful coexistence was enough. She had people who loved her and cared for her with genuine hearts — in her past life, and in this one too.
Heaven had at last not played things too absurdly for this half-martyr of hers.