No complaints, no railing against the world — only a quiet wondering at how difficult a woman’s life could be without finding someone to rely on.
It was like picking flowers: the peony, gathered first, was always used to adorn the hall. The poppy, gathered later, could be placed in a celadon vase and set by the bedside. The peony is magnificent and dignified — not everyone can manage it. Some men prefer a flower with petals and leaves all on display, perfectly unguarded, because it stirs in them a tender feeling of cherishing something delicate, and they fancy themselves men of refined sensibility for it.
Yun Pan always wore a faint smile out of habit, and because of it, whenever she was wronged, people found her all the more heartbreaking.
Madam Ming drew her into her arms and soothed her: “Perhaps it is better this way — clean and final. No more need to worry yourself over that household. A muddleheaded man like your father will stumble sooner or later. Now that you are away from the Marquis of Yong’an’s estate, you will have fewer troubles. It will be good for you.”
Such words, however well-intentioned, could not soften the disappointment and sorrow of having truly been abandoned by one’s own father. No amount of consolation from others could truly ease that.
Yun Pan said nothing. She buried herself in her aunt’s embrace and wept quietly. Xiang Xu watched her, that slight, slender back trembling softly, and a great deal of sympathy rose in his heart.
“I will go after Jiang Heng and bring him back,” he said, and turned toward the door.
Madam Ming quickly called him back. “What good would that do? Could you not see that his face had nowhere left to hide? He would not listen to you.”
Xiang Xu still had the spirit of youth. He clenched his fists and said: “Since he has left Si Si in our household, then draw up a written agreement — that from here on, everything concerning Si Si has nothing to do with him. Do not be fooled by how he may still be standing on his own feet now. Some day when he reaches a narrow pass, he may come to make use of Si Si.”
Madam Ming gave a short laugh when she heard this. “If he ever sinks that low, he would need to smear his face with pot-soot before daring to show himself.”
As for Yun Pan — years of experience had taught her not to let great joys or great sorrows linger in her heart. Having wept and emptied herself, she sat up, wiped her eyes, and said: “Big Brother need not chase after him. Since Father does not wish me to return, I imagine from now on he will act as though he has no such daughter. I do not think this is necessarily a bad thing — I only grieve that everything Mother worked to build over these many years has in the end been made into a wedding gift for someone else.”
There was nothing to be done about it. By now, control of the marquis’s household had long fallen into Liu Yanqiao’s hands. The master favored her, so she stood in for half a mistress.
But to go any further than that — that would be harder. Madam Ming said: “That woman runs the household for the sake of the children she has borne. Let her. The one thing that cannot happen is Jiang Heng formally elevating her. With that document of slave registration, she will remain a concubine below the threshold of respectability for the rest of her life. And honestly — flowers do not bloom for a hundred days, and given how Jiang Heng’s ear is shaped, there will be no shortage of courtesans and pretty women outside who could outshine his Liu Yanqiao. I refuse to believe otherwise.”
Of course, all this was said more to vent her own frustration. Madam Ming produced a handkerchief to wipe Yun Pan’s face, then turned to Xiang Xu and said: “I need to go find your father in the study and think this through together. Your sister has also been exhausted for half the day — help me see her back to her room.”
Xiang Xu naturally saw Madam Ming out of the hall first, then turned to find Qin Dan supporting Yun Pan as they walked out.
That shadow of sorrow vanished quickly from her face. She was herself again — composed as always, with a faintly apologetic smile. “Because of my affairs, I have troubled Big Brother.”
Xiang Xu shook his head. He wanted to comfort her but could find no words. After a long moment he managed two sentences: “Do not be sad. You are free of that tiger’s den and wolf’s lair now. Better days are ahead of you.”
Such simple, unpolished encouragement could still warm the heart.
When Yun Pan smiled, there was a kind of settled beauty about her. She was a young woman who could bear close examination — she would not fall into panic or helplessness just because she had lost her footing. Upon entering her small courtyard, she saw a row of climbing rose trellises on the eastern side, beneath which stood a bamboo-woven round table and small armchairs. She gestured toward it and said, “Big Brother, come and sit over there.”
This was the reticence proper to a young woman — she would not sit alone with a man indoors, but if there was to be sitting, it would be in the open daylight where all could see, to prevent unnecessary trouble and gossip.
Xiang Xu sat as she indicated. He watched her take her seat opposite him and stole a careful glance at her face — she sat with downcast eyes, her expression remote and serene.
She must have sensed his lingering concern, because she looked up and smiled again. “Big Brother need not worry. I am fine.”
Xiang Xu exhaled with relief. He had never had much interaction with young women and could not make sense of their inner workings. But Si Si’s clarity of mind had made him wholeheartedly trust every word she said. As long as she said she was all right, he could settle his heart for now.
Mingke brought out a tea tray. Yun Pan stood, drew back her sleeve, and set the built-in cup before him with a quiet word: “This is a flavored drink I blended myself. Please give it a try, Big Brother.”
Xiang Xu looked down. In the ancient, plain-shaped tea bowl swirled a clear jade-green liquid. As it moved gently, a few osmanthus blossoms drifted within it. She took a wooden spoon and ladled two cooked lotus seeds into his bowl; they sank like moons through the water, and the morning light found itself astonished.
Yun Pan took her own cup in hand and pointed to the small brazier nearby. “I toasted dried fruit and tea leaves together, then simmered the water and sweetened it with honey. I have a fondness for sweet things — I hope Big Brother likes it as well.”
Xiang Xu quickly said he did. He took a sip and found it true: the tea held a note of fruit, something entirely different from the common rose-water or cardamom water one found in the markets, with their grassy, resinous edge on first taste.
They drank in quiet together, and time seemed to slow. Yun Pan said nothing; her eyes held no grief, only stillness — the kind of stillness that moved people.
Xiang Xu set his tea bowl back on the saucer with a faint, clean ring, was silent a moment, and said gently: “Life will always have its peaks and valleys. Do not let those who are not worth your pain make you feel that the world is unkind. That day Father confronted Jiang Heng in front of all his colleagues — no matter how favored Liu Shi may be, she is powerless outside those four walls.”
Every person around her was defending her honor. In truth, other than that first moment of disappointment, she had suffered no injury that cut to the bone.
Because she had anticipated it. And getting this result in the end had not been wholly unexpected. Liu Yanqiao was patient and calculating. She had simply miscalculated by thinking Yun Pan could not make it safely to Duke Shuguo’s estate. The battle this time might appear to have been won, but the troubles ahead would be no few.
Yun Pan sat quietly. She had her own accounting of it. Liu Yanqiao had given birth to three children — she could no longer be disposed of as easily as a barren concubine. For the moment, it seemed that document of slave registration could only prevent Father from formally elevating her. But what the future might bring was hard to say — perhaps she could be transferred to someone else, as a favor to be done on the side.
As for herself — with money and assets in hand, that was the best arrangement she could have. So she was not as crushed and broken as other girls who had been through upheaval might have been. She set that matter aside for now, seemingly unwilling to mention it again, and refilled Xiang Xu’s cup in a soft unhurried voice. “After Mother passed away, I thought I would do nothing but wait in the inner quarters for the day I married out. I never imagined I would be caught up in all this scheming — and yet it brought me to the capital, where I could see my dearly missed aunt and uncle, my Cousin Mei, and meet Big Brother, whose name I had known but whose face I had never seen. Heaven must have arranged it so — there is a design in it somewhere. As things stand, I have not been cast adrift with nowhere to go, nor been left without anyone to turn to. I have simply moved to a new place to make incense, grind ink, brew tea, and arrange flowers. There is nothing I lack. Big Brother, I have another wish too — care to guess what it is?”
Her brows curved upward, the tea bowl’s painted landscape reflected in the depths of her eyes. Xiang Xu heard his own heart begin to beat fast and did not dare open his mouth. He only shook his head.
“I want to open a tea house in the market, selling all kinds of flavored drinks.” She gestured to illustrate as she spoke. “Along the window-facing white walls, I would hang slabs of bamboo and wood with the names of all the teas written on them. Customers would come in, choose from the boards and order their tea, and half-rolled bamboo curtains would separate each table from its neighbors — even women customers would not be inconvenienced. Is that not a good idea?”
As Xiang Xu listened to her describe it all at a leisurely pace, the image rose in his mind — aged pine, rolled blinds, low tables, and round-backed chairs — and he smiled and said it was excellent. “The capital’s women folk often frequent the markets. Even if you served only women customers, business would certainly be lively.”
From nearby, Mingke, who had been attending to them, smiled and interjected: “My mistress could also sell Qiankun Walnuts alongside the tea.”
Xiang Xu was puzzled. “What are Qiankun Walnuts?”
Mingke brightened at the subject. “It is our young mistress’s clever invention…” Her mouth still speaking, she said, “Big Brother, wait a moment,” and ran inside.
Yun Pan looked a little embarrassed and smiled. “They are small trinkets I made — something to pass the time.”
Mingke soon came back and placed two walnuts in front of Xiang Xu.
At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them — except perhaps that their seam was tied with a tiny knot.
Xiang Xu undid the knot with curiosity and opened the walnut. What was revealed was extraordinary: inside was a tiny, concentrated world — blue sky and white clouds, mountains and streams and meadows, and farmhouses with fences and cattle and sheep… He was struck dumb, marveling at her ingenuity. Such a pure and complete little universe — no wonder Mingke had named them Qiankun Walnuts.
“How… how do you make these?” He looked up at Yun Pan in astonishment.
Yun Pan pressed her lips together and smiled. “You clean out the walnut shell, mix various mineral pigments into plaster, use sky-blue as the base, blend in the clouds, and finally add the cattle, sheep, and houses.”
Simple enough to say, of course — but only a girl’s fine and careful spirit could produce something so exquisitely artful.
Xiang Xu let out a slow breath. A strange, quiet steadiness settled over him, and the restlessness in his heart was washed clean.
He bent close to examine the second walnut: an interior corner of a room, with table and chair, a small potted plant, an incense burner on the table, and a half-finished game of weiqi.
He brought the walnut gently closed — a soft click — and in a lighter tone said: “I think you may not even need the tea house. With just these little walnuts, you could make a name for yourself among the noblewomen of the capital.” He waved his hand, a little sheepish. “May I keep this one? When my mind is unsettled, looking at it will be more effective than medicine.”
Yun Pan was naturally pleased that something she had made in her leisure hours could bring someone such delight. She pushed the second one toward him as well and smiled. “Take this one too — it was just sitting there for my own amusement anyway. I can always make more, and I’ll send a few to Cousin Mei.”
They were still talking when Xiang Xu’s personal page stepped through the gate, bowed first to Yun Pan, then reported to Xiang Xu: “Young Master, the master has sent word that Mister He Xiao of Luoyang has come to call. The master requests that the Young Master come out to receive him.”
“He Xiao?” Xiang Xu rose slowly. “He has been in the capital for over half a month — why did he choose today to come to our door…”
Yun Pan heard the name and paused briefly. “That He Xiao — is he Uncle’s nephew?”
Xiang Xu confirmed it. “A great talent celebrated throughout the capital — literary officials in the court are all vying to host him for discussions.”
As he spoke, he carefully tucked the two walnuts inside his sleeve, bowed his hands toward her in thanks, and then followed his page out of Yi Peng Xue.
Qin Dan came forward to tidy the tea things. Noticing that Yun Pan was staring into space, she murmured: “Cousin Mei is still unwell. She may not yet know that He Xiao has come to call.”
Yun Pan nodded, smoothed her skirts as she rose, and said: “I will go look in on Cousin.”
She went to Zhi Lan Garden. Once inside, she did not breathe a word about He Xiao — she simply sat with Mei Fen, talking about making incense and roasting tea.
Mei Fen had heard of Yun Pan’s ordeal and, after lamenting that Jiang Heng was not fit to be a father, had only words of comfort for Yun Pan: “Let it be — that household is better left unvisited. Your father’s concubine is deep and calculating. Women of our gentle rearing are no match for her — the further we keep from her, the better.”
Mei Fen had always been passive in her approach to life. She got through her days with a policy of avoiding anything that could be avoided. Yun Pan did not want to burden her with further worries, so she answered vaguely, turned the page of a book, pointed to an ancient formula, and said: “When you are better, Sister, let us also try making rouge from safflower.”
Mei Fen said yes and took the book to examine closely. At that moment, a maidservant relayed a message from outside the window — the third son of the He Family of Luoyang had heard that the young mistress was not well and had come to call.
Mei Fen started, and looked at Yun Pan in alarm. “Is that He Xiao? He is here?” She shrank further toward the back of her bed platform. “I will not see him — tell him I will not see him.”
From outside came Madam Ming’s voice, drifting in faintly: “The weather is getting warmer… Your uncle is concerned you may not be comfortable here…” It drew nearer, and she called through the bamboo curtain: “Mei’er, your cousin has come to see you. Get yourself properly dressed and come out to greet him.”
(① Hang shou: A celebrated courtesan.)