No sooner had the full year of national mourning ended than the noble households of the capital removed the plain white lantern covers from before their gates. The previous emperor had been known for his strict governance, and the subsequent suppression of the rebellion had resulted in a great victory — the emperor’s authority was now more imposing than ever. The idle sons of noble families, though their hearts itched unbearably, dared not overstep.
After another month or two, the emperor bestowed marriages upon several of the consistently well-behaved imperial clansmen, and only then did the households of powerful officials and nobles breathe a sigh of relief. Those wishing to take concubines took concubines; those wishing to take wives took wives; those wishing to go to the pleasure quarters to “inspect the welfare of the people”… well, they changed their clothes and pulled a broad-brimmed hat low over their faces before going.
True to her word, the old lady waited until Chrysanthemum had recovered from her miscarriage for about ten days, then hosted a small dinner to mark her elevation to the position of a yiniang. Wang Shi was gracious enough to present a red envelope, and then, in accordance with Xiang Yiniang’s and Ping Yiniang’s precedent, the newly-established Fang Yiniang was settled into Wang Shi’s own courtyard. Fang Yiniang, seeing young Changdong pass back and forth with his book satchel on his way to the schoolroom, thought of the child she had lost, and her hatred for Lin Yiniang grew all the deeper.
Since she was recovering from her miscarriage, Fang Yiniang could not yet serve in bed, but that was no obstacle to clasping a hand here and kissing a cheek there, uttering a few clever and flattering words to make Sheng Hong stroke his beard with pleasure — and meanwhile wiping away tears over the lost child, causing Sheng Hong to develop a distaste for Lin Shi as well.
Before long, the Yongchang Marquis’s household sent a matchmaker to the Sheng Mansion to formalize the engagement. Wang Shi now regarded Molan as she would a plague god, and could not wait to have her married off the very next day. In any case the dowry had long been prepared, and the spring maiden on the other side was surely growing impatient too — if the child were born first and only then the tea ceremony performed, that would look very awkward. With these considerations on both sides, the betrothal ceremony was set for the twenty-eighth of the sixth month, and the wedding itself for the eighth of the seventh month.
The moment the wedding was settled, Molan sprang to life. She first made a fuss about going to pay her respects to Sheng Hong and thank him for the kindness of raising her. Hai Shi was initially unwilling to allow it, but Molan invoked the name of filial duty, and Hai Shi had no choice but to consent. However, once before Sheng Hong, Molan broke into tears — crying one moment that she was an unfilial daughter, repenting the next that she had caused her father trouble, and then between sobs pleading on behalf of Lin Yiniang.
“Father, your daughter is to be married — at the very least, for the sake of the Marquis’s household, please let my mother be brought back, so that she may see your daughter go to her husband’s home!” Molan knelt before Sheng Hong, weeping as though a pear blossom in the rain, a picture of heartfelt mother-daughter devotion.
Sheng Hong only said coldly: “The one who went to all the trouble of arranging your marriage was the old lady; the one who proposed the match and prepared your trousseau was also the old lady. If you are truly sincere, go and thank her. …Lin Shi has violated the household rules and must be dealt with according to those rules. Don’t think that because you have secured a match with a marquis’s household you can come here and be bold! If you truly miss your mother so much, I can report that you are too frail and ill to go through with the marriage, and you can go to the farmstead to keep her company.”
Molan was left kneeling in stunned disbelief, staring at Sheng Hong incredulously. She did not know that on that day when the old lady had interrogated her, Sheng Hong had been listening from behind the curtain; nor did she know that in recent days Fang Yiniang had been pouring a steady stream of slanders about Lin Yiniang into Sheng Hong’s ears.
Sheng Hong rebuked Molan several more times in harsh words about her “virtue and conduct,” then had Hai Shi come and take Molan away, with orders to keep a strict watch over her.
Molan refused to accept this and found a way to sneak out of her courtyard again. Since a daughter who is about to be married can be indulged a little however badly she behaves, and cannot be punished too severely, Wang Shi, this time, steeled herself and had Yun Zai — Molan’s attendant — seized and soundly beaten without a word, then sold off. Molan wailed and made a scene, grabbing at Hai Shi’s sleeve and demanding the girl back.
Hai Shi was forced into a corner, so Wang Shi sent someone to convey a message: “If the young miss is not behaving, it can only mean those below are not serving her well enough. If the young miss causes another scene, Lu Zhong will be sold; if she still does not calm down, Bitao will be dismissed next, then Furong, then Qiujiang, in order… Once the young miss has been married out, we will select fine new servants to go with her.” Molan looked at the maids kneeling all around her in a sea of prostrate forms, ground her silver teeth to powder, but dared not make another scene.
In truth, the relationship between a daughter who has married out and her maternal family is one of mutual restraint. If a family stands by and watches their daughter suffer mistreatment at her husband’s home without coming to her aid, they will be mocked as spineless — but if a married daughter is disrespectful to her senior relatives in her maternal family, she will equally be branded with the name of “unfilial and disobedient.” And among the list of Molan’s senior relatives, there was no Lin Yiniang — there was, however, Wang Shi.
Wang Shi had lived her whole life charging ahead, and even when she was struck down by buddhas or beaten back by gods, she had never changed her imperious and fierce nature. How could she now be cowed by a mere concubine’s daughter acting up? In any case the Yongchang Marquis’s household had already come to propose the match, and the Sheng family’s face was preserved — if Molan continued to cause trouble, ha, Wang Shi actually hoped she would, and wreck the whole marriage!
Having experienced Wang Shi’s severity at first hand, Molan settled down and remained obediently in Shanyue Pavilion to prepare for her wedding.
The twenty-eighth of the sixth month was evidently a truly auspicious day, for besides the Yongchang Marquis’s household choosing it for the betrothal ceremony, several other great families in the capital also selected it for happy occasions: the Vice Minister of Revenue was marrying off a daughter, the Right Censor-in-Chief of the Chief Surveillance Bureau was taking a daughter-in-law, Princess Fu’an’s son was taking a second wife… and also, the current Grand Preceptor Shen Shiqi was joining in matrimony with the Qi Ducal household.
That evening, Sheng Hong returned from drinking at his direct superior’s wedding banquet, changed into everyday home clothes, and went to the study. Pushing open the door, he found Changbai already sitting at the table waiting for him, who now rose and bowed. Sheng Hong was quite pleased, gave a slight nod, and joked: “You came back early — was the food at the Qi Ducal household’s wedding banquet not to your liking?”
Changbai said levelly: “The food was very good — it was Mother’s expression that was not.” Sheng Hong’s brow furrowed slightly. He walked straight to the desk and, lifting his robe hem, sat down, saying: “Your mother is quite upset over Ru’er’s affair — though she also made mistakes herself.”
Changbai remained unmoved. He went to the side table beside the desk, poured a cup of warm, strong tea from a purple clay teapot carved with a “Three Friends of Winter” pattern, and set it steadily before Sheng Hong before saying: “It is not fitting for me to criticize Mother’s conduct. As for this matter — it cannot be blamed on our virtuous younger brother Yuan Ruo.” At first hearing, it sounded as though he were criticizing Pingning Junzhu, but in fact he had also included Wang Shi in the same remark.
Sheng Hong took the teacup and, parched from the wine, drained it in one go. He nodded: “Our worthy young relative Qi acted well — fortunately he discreetly sent word to you a few days ago, which is why I did not add my name to Censor Yan’s memorial. Yesterday I went to find Elder Statesman Lu, who confirmed the matter is indeed as reported.”
Changbai held the teapot and refilled his father’s cup, saying in a low voice: “Father, perhaps look at this further — Censor Yan is also a man long seasoned in officialdom; perhaps there is a deeper purpose behind his actions.”
Sheng Hong took the teacup and sipped it lightly. He explained to his son: “Old General Gan has commanded military power for over a decade, so arrogant in his achievements that he cannot see anyone else — even Elder Marshal Bo surrendered his military seal to the emperor, yet Gan still dares to act with high-handed presumption. Last year, during the northern expedition, the emperor had nearly emptied the main army camp of troops, yet Old General Gan led his great force in deliberate delay and refused to engage — standing by while the Jie tribesmen ran amok and devastated the border towns. His Imperial Grace’s brother-in-law Shen Congxing and young Gu Tingye rode north on the momentum of their southern pacification campaign to strike the enemy, not only taking half of Gan’s military authority, but winning victories one after another, capturing enormous quantities of supplies, cattle, and sheep. Elder Statesman Lu, remembering the old friendship from their days together in the Ministry of Works, privately revealed to me yesterday that a battle report has come in, though the emperor’s secret edict has not yet been issued — it says that Shen Congxing overthrew the Jie tribal commander’s central camp in a single blow, and Gu Tingye slew the Left Wise King and an untold number of his generals. So now Censor Yan is impeaching Shen and Gu for allowing their forces to run rampant and for insubordination — is that not inviting trouble for himself?”
Changbai fell into brief reflection, then asked: “Censor Yan is ordinarily a cautious man — why would he rashly impeach Shen and Gu? Does he not know that one is the current empress’s own younger brother, and the other is the emperor’s trusted confidant?” Though Changbai was exceptionally gifted, he had spent his days buried in the Hanlin Academy studying the classics and had little clarity on the complex web of relationships at court.
Sheng Hong replaced the lid on the teacup with a clear crisp click of porcelain. He said slowly: “My son does not know — since ancient times in our dynasty, civil officials have overseen military ones. Unless a military man is an imperial relative or the son of a powerful family, without someone at court to support him, how could Old General Gan have stood firm in the military for over a decade without falling? Ha, it is only a pity I do not know who is backing Censor Yan. Grand Preceptor Shen is as slippery as a fish — nothing sticks to him. I suspect these men have miscalculated; in my view, the current Holy Emperor is not nearly as accommodating as the late emperor.”
Changbai nodded silently, then suddenly asked: “Since Father knew yesterday that Censor Yan’s memorial was likely to go badly, why did you still go to the Yan household today to drink at the wedding banquet?”
Sheng Hong stroked his beard and smiled: “Changbai, remember this — an official in the court who cannot be utterly resolute and forge ahead must learn instead to be like all the rest and go along with the flow. My refusal to append my name to Censor Yan’s memorial amounted to no more than a slight difference of opinion in governance. But superior and subordinate have a bond after all — to cut ties with him prematurely would only invite others to gossip.”
Changbai listened carefully. The study fell quiet for a moment.
Sheng Hong then turned his head toward his son and said: “I see our young relative Qi is a fine young man — he holds his friendship with you from your shared schooldays in high regard. You should be closer to him. Your wife is a worthy woman — she knew to send double the wedding gift, and you must not worry about your mother being displeased; your father will go and speak to her. And there is also… that young nephew… ah, he was also a fine young man. It is Molan who lacks the fortune, not he. Technically you are his senior fellow student — do offer him some comfort.” Sheng Hong sighed, and his face showed an expression of regret. “Never mind — let Molan make of it what she can. We have already done everything in our power. The vexing thing is that the old lady has been made ill by all this — fortunately Minglan is devoted and has been by her side watching over her every day…”
The old lady was, after all, getting on in years. The journey had been tiring, and hardly had she returned home than she was plunged into a great battle. By the time Molan’s affairs were concluded she had caught a cold chill and taken to her bed to recuperate gradually. It was not until the end of the sixth month, when the weather turned hot, that she began to show improvement.
This was the first time Minglan felt certain her body must be genuinely healthy — she had spent a full month hovering beside a sick person without once sneezing. This was a milestone event. It meant that the sickly, unlucky body she had inhabited, the one that had been called a “chronic invalid” from the age of six, could now shed that label entirely!
Was that easy? This was a wretched place where a common cold carried a ten percent fatality rate and where the female mortality rate in childbirth was as high as twenty percent — a hell for women. Minglan had to keep up her daily walks without fail, resolutely refuse to be a picky eater, take in all manner of different nutrients, maintain a sensible balance of coarse and refined grains, and observe proper hygiene practices — a full nine years of this!
Flushed with happiness, Minglan promptly took a net bag, fished two fat carp from the pond, and resolved to make the old lady a fresh carp broth. After instructing the cook on the fire and the seasoning, she rolled up her sleeves and went to the old lady’s room, where she found the old lady squinting at a letter.
“I told you not to go near the pond again — why do you never listen?!” The old lady could not get through a day without lecturing Minglan; Minglan pretended not to hear and turned her head away to talk of other things: “The sun is truly fine today.”
The old lady was both amused and exasperated. She raised her hand for a slap. Minglan cried out and burrowed under the old lady’s arm like a little squirrel, deliberately wheedling in a baby voice: “Oh, come now — that pond out there is two feet deep at most. Xiaotao could reach in and grab a hold of her granddaughter with one hand. With weather this good, even if I did fall in, I wouldn’t catch a chill!”
Even as she spoke she was rubbing herself against the old lady in an attempt to wheedle her way back into her good graces, lamenting only the lack of a tail to wag as a sign of flattery. The old lady, as usual, could not keep up the stern front for long. Having played the stern grandmother long enough, she finally softened. Minglan quickly changed the subject: “Grandmother, whose letter is that?”
The old lady set the letter down on the raised table, stroked Minglan’s hair, and said slowly: “A letter from the He family. She is not well enough to travel and wrote specially to express her thanks.” Minglan gave a “mm” of acknowledgment and continued to lounge in the old lady’s lap without stirring, saying: “Did they find the residence Elder Sister-in-law recommended to their liking?” The old lady nodded and smiled: “Your elder sister-in-law is quite warm-hearted — not many young mistresses would take the time to act as a go-between like that.”
Minglan picked up the letter and skimmed through it, then raised her head and smiled: “Old Madam He says the gardenia flowers in their back garden are in bloom and invites us to admire them and take tea the day after tomorrow. Grandmother, shall we go?”
The old lady patted Minglan’s shoulder and smiled: “After a whole month lying here I am quite weary of it, and it has been several days since I had a good conversation with that old dear of mine. It would be nice to go and visit — what a pity that Hong’er has gone out to procure medicinal herbs and has not yet returned…”
“In Brother He’s eyes, all flowers and plants are just medicines — what is there to admire? He would probably put them into a remedy.” Minglan shook her head vigorously. She recalled an occasion when Old Madam He had brought back a pot of brilliant, pure white peonies from out of town. Before she could invite anyone to come and admire them, He Hong, who did not know better, had pulled up the whole lot in an unguarded moment and compounded a box of “Spleen-Fortifying Lung-Clearing Pills” which he sent earnestly to the Sheng household as a gift for Sheng Lao’s weak digestion — leaving Old Madam He laughing and crying at the same time.
…