Su Zhe and Lin Feng ran pell-mell back to the administration compound to find that things were already busy inside. Zhao Ji came panting along behind them, saying in fits and starts: “They — they haven’t arrived yet, have they?”
Su Zhe grabbed a passing young guard who was carrying a stack of white fabric and asked: “What is all this for?”
The guard said straightforwardly: “We’re going to cover the colored decorations.”
Zhao Ji seized the opening: “The Chief Counselor has passed away, hasn’t he? The Mistress said Chief Counselor Liu had rendered great service to all of Annan — since the children’s learning song was his composition, he is essentially a teacher to all these people. She’s ordered us to change into plain clothes. The compound is preparing an offering table, and she’s asked Witch Da to allocate funds for two days of services at the temples and shrines. She says: though it won’t be done with great ceremony, the proper rites must be observed. If things weren’t this way, how would I have known about it before the visitors even arrived?”
Su Zhe said: “Is the Mistress in the compound or at the temple?”
“In the compound.”
“I’m going to find her!”
“What exactly are you trying to do?” Zhao Su’s voice suddenly came from behind them. Behind him, Zhù Lian and the others had followed along — all of them, when first entering the capital, having been arranged by Zhù Ying to call on Wang and Liu and the others to build their standing and make life in the capital a little more comfortable. Hearing the news, no one had the heart to continue their private meeting, and they had come crowding over en masse.
Su Zhe said: “I want to go and meet them. Since someone is coming, there may well be female members of the party — it’s more appropriate for me to go.”
Lin Feng said: “Let me go too.”
Zhù Lian said: “Don’t crowd each other here. Let’s all go.”
As they walked, each stripped off their colorful ornaments and tucked them into their sleeves or belt pouches. By the time they appeared before Zhù Ying, they were already reasonably plainly dressed.
Zhù Ying was in her study, already changed into plain garments; a single silver hairpin was in her hair. On one side, Elder Sister Hu had a white sash tied at her waist; her two new disciples had put on white fabric-and-button waistcoats.
Zhù Ying was reading a letter. She looked up. “Why is everyone here? Where did you disappear to just now — I couldn’t find anyone.”
Zhao Su said: “We’re spread out across different places and rarely see one another, so we wanted to get together before leaving. Then we heard the sad news. We’d like to stay a few days longer and meet the Chief Counselor’s descendants. The Chief Counselor was the Supreme Literary Luminary of the Realm — surely the family learning is no less distinguished. If there’s someone with compatible temperament among the fellow students and nephews, we’d like to invite him to Wuzhou to give lectures.”
Zhù Chonghua knew little about Liu Songnian, but upon hearing that this family could serve as teachers, she rushed to add: “We need them in our place too!”
Zhù Ying said: “I still need them myself!”
The Liu family had yet to arrive, and already the administration compound was squabbling over them. Su Zhe found a gap and said to Zhù Ying: “Mistress, I’d like to go and meet them.” Lin Feng also said she would go; Zhù Lian said: “And me!”
Zhù Ying said: “Those coming are a few young women. What are you two doing barging in? Little Sister — you go.”
“All right!” Su Zhe said, happiness and surprise mingling in her voice. Liu Songnian had sent his female family members to Annan — then what of the male members? Why this arrangement?
Zhù Ying pointed to Zhù Lian and said: “You needn’t go. Send your wife along with Little Sister.”
“Yes.”
Lin Feng started to speak; Zhù Ying said: “Your wife has children to look after at home — she needn’t come all this way. When the guests arrive and settle in first, then she can come and meet them at her leisure. Chonghua too. The family has just had a bereavement — arguing and squabbling in here is one thing, but once they arrive, no squabbling in front of them. They’ve arrived in an unfamiliar place; give them time to settle. Little Sister, bring more people — they’ve brought quite a bit of luggage.”
“Yes.”
“All right, everyone go change clothes.”
“Yes.”
Su Zhe first asked how many people were coming, then marshaled her group, changed her clothes, and went to find He Yueming.
He Yueming had already changed into a pale ivory dress, removed her hair ornaments, and was helping Elder Sister Du arrange the rooms for the Liu family women. Zhù Ying had not had them stay at the guesthouse; traveling in mourning, going out anywhere was inconvenient. And with ceremonies of ritual offerings to attend to, it was more practical to be inside the administration compound. Zhù Ying would cover all the expenses herself.
Three women were coming: one was Liu Songnian’s youngest granddaughter, the other two were her grand-nieces. They were of similar age — in their early twenties — and by living together they could keep each other company. Each brought one maidservant; there was also one matron, one male steward, one female steward, and six male servants.
He Yueming said: “After all, this is a distinguished family.”
Su Zhe said: “This would be considered frugal by Chief Counselor Liu’s standards in the capital. Elder Sister Du, I’ll need to hand things over to you here — she has to come with me to meet the guests.”
Elder Sister Du said: “Leave it all to me.”
Su Zhe told He Yueming to pack her things; He Yueming said: “How many days is it from here to the Northern Pass? By the time I pack and we set out, the guests will practically be at our doorstep. I’ll change clothes and we’ll leave right away.”
The two of them quickly got ready and headed along the postal road to intercept the guests. They had no fear of not finding them — after riding hard for a day, they encountered the Liu women at a post station after nightfall. The women were easily recognized: they were in mourning; they were noticeably taller than the people of Annan; the girls were all fair-skinned, with the look of sheltered, gently raised young ladies.
Su Zhe spotted them at once, surrounded by a few female soldiers in livery — that confirmed it; there was no mistaking them!
Su Zhe had not met them during her time in the capital, but the mourning clothes and the female soldiers together told her more than enough. She first went to introduce herself to the squad leader of the female soldiers, who then introduced her to the Liu family women.
Sure enough, these were the Liu women.
The one at the head introduced herself as Liu Ao — she was a generation older than the other two, their younger great-aunt. The other two were named Liu Kun and Liu Yan, and were cousins from the same branch. Liu Ao was mildly startled upon first seeing the female squad leader; seeing Su Zhe, and then hearing that He Yueming also served as an instructor at the prefectural school, something brightened in her eyes. She exchanged a glance with her two grandnieces.
Su Zhe was a former subordinate of their grandfather — practically one of their own. The names of Zhù Lian and the others were also known to them. Conversation became a little easier than it had been at the Northern Pass. Liu Ao hesitated briefly, then decided not to address Su Zhe as “fellow student” — that didn’t quite fit — and instead called her “Elder Sister,” inviting her inside to sit.
Su Zhe took her hand as they entered the room, and saw that a great many trunks and boxes had been piled inside. She said: “It’s too cramped in here. Let me find someone to get you a larger room. As for what you’ve brought, I’ll find a secure storeroom and assign soldiers to guard it — nothing will be lost.”
Liu Ao said: “That won’t do. The boxes are books that my grandfather asked me to bring. Wherever I go, they must be kept in my own room — until I have seen the Military Commissioner.”
“Oh!” Su Zhe’s eyes lit up at the word books. “Very well. Bear with it one more night then. Tomorrow when we reach the compound, you’ll be settled properly. The compound has prepared two courtyard residences for everyone — both inside the administration. One for the three of you, the one adjoining it for your maidservants, with space for luggage and a small kitchen; the men will be accommodated separately. Will that do? If you have any requests, just say so now — we can have them changed overnight.”
Liu Ao quickly waved off the offer: “This is perfect. We have truly put the Military Commissioner to too much trouble already. My grandnieces and I are not difficult people. The Military Commissioner is willing to take us in — we are already deeply grateful.”
“We’re all practically family — why be so formal? Is the climate agreeable? Was the journey tiring?”
Liu Ao said: “We managed.”
The three of them spoke in measured, refined tones throughout. Liu Ao was the most composed; she first asked after Zhù Ying, then inquired about who was at the administration compound and how the former subordinates of her grandfather were faring. She also expressed the wish to pay her respects at the memorials of Nanny Zhang and Zhù Da.
Liu Kun’s voice carried a soft warmth — she seemed good-natured — and she carefully asked about the details of daily life in Annan: the climate, what to wear in which season, what ailments were common, and so forth.
Liu Yan said the least. She asked only one question: “Is it convenient to hold memorial rites for the deceased?”
Su Zhe patiently said: “But of course. From the moment we received word, the Mistress changed into plain clothes. The entire compound dresses plainly; throughout Annan, every person who can read must pay tribute to the old Chief Counselor. Ritual services are being held; by the time we return to the compound, the services will likely not yet be finished.”
All three were startled and then pleased. Liu Ao said: “This… is really too much.”
He Yueming said: “When the Mistress thinks something is right, she does it. As long as she says it should be done, it isn’t too much. When I first followed my father to Annan, I often thought this or that was too much, or that such-and-such wasn’t quite proper. After a while I got used to it. We gave up so much to come to Annan — wasn’t it precisely because of its ‘going too far’?”
Liu Kun asked with curiosity: “Did Madam also relocate to Annan?”
“Yes — I’ve been here a few years now. When I first arrived, there were aspects of daily life that took some adjusting, and there were some misunderstandings. I’ll stay with you for a few days. If anything puzzles you, just ask me.”
Liu Ao thought: One is a former subordinate; one is someone from outside who relocated here. These two were well chosen. It was just as people always said — Zhù Ziqiang was a thorough woman in everything she did.
Liu Yan returned to her earlier question: “It’s not my grandfather. It’s my elder sister.”
Both Liu Ao and Liu Kun looked at her. Liu Yan added: “And she was not yet married when she died. Does the compound have any taboos about that?”
“Ah?” He Yueming said. For an unmarried young woman who had died, there were various taboos depending on the place. Some did not permit burial in the ancestral graves; some would not speak of it. There were of course cases where it was not considered particularly significant, but without direct descendants it would always be thought of as second-class in a sense. Furthermore, one generally would not keep a spirit tablet in the main house; once the mourning period was done and enough time had passed, aristocratic families had ancestral shrines where the tablet could be placed, but ordinary households would simply burn the tablet and be done with it — which was why it was normal for descendants three generations on to have forgotten the names of their ancestors.
“Hmm?” Su Zhe thought for a moment. “Oh! We have no taboos there at all! The compound’s Auntie has kept tablets for her late husband and departed mother-in-law for years.”
Liu Yan breathed out in relief. “Then I have nothing else to ask.”
Liu Ao said: “Then she must have gotten along very well with her mother-in-law.”
“She did.”
He Yueming asked Liu Yan: “How did the person… pass? And are there any particular requirements for offerings? If there’s anything that’s difficult to manage, just say so.”
Liu Ao let out a sigh: “What particular requirements could there be? Close enough is fine. She wasn’t fussy about such things when she was alive. We’ve brought her here — she should be able to rest in peace.” Seeing that they did not wish to say more, the two of them asked no further questions, and after advising them to rest early, they left.
They had originally estimated one day for the return journey, but three well-bred young ladies from distinguished families, with a great deal of luggage — the valuables were not many, but the books were heavy and fragile — made slow progress. It took two days to reach Xizhou; by the time they entered the city, the sun was already tipping into the west.
Su Zhe drew alongside the carriage and called out: “Next year at this time you’ll be able to see how lively the harvest celebrations truly are.”
Liu Ao lifted the curtain and looked out. Although it was evening, the streets were still crowded. Most of the people visible had something white about their clothing. Most commonly a white sash at the waist; some had tied a white handkerchief at the arm; several wore clothes of plain undyed fabric. Their attire was of all different kinds, a dazzling variety for the eyes.
On arriving at the administration compound, Su Zhe and He Yueming went in first. A moment later, several people in staff livery came out. The woman in the lead said: “Please come in. Male servants, this way please. Female servants, follow me. Your luggage will be handled.”
Su Zhe darted out again and led the women to see Zhù Ying.
The three women studied the compound as they walked and privately reached a conclusion: What presence this place has.
They also noticed that many women moved through the compound — and that men and women mingled quite openly. A young girl rattled off something quickly; the man facing her rattled back something equally quick; they went back and forth several times, exchanged official documents, and parted crisply and cleanly.
Su Zhe said: “Those two are from the same clan — they’re speaking their home language. We have quite a few people here who don’t speak mandarin very well. This way.”
Liu Ao paid closer attention now. Among those passing by, some wore white waistcoats; others had white sashes; beneath the white, their clothes also differed — Liu Ao gradually discerned the gradations of rank therein. She guessed the system was roughly analogous to the dynasty’s: black and blue at the lowest, then deep blue and indigo, followed by blue-green and green; red was scarce; purple she had not yet seen. Among these people there were men and women alike, and when they caught sight of the three women, they would briefly ask: “Is this the family of Chief Counselor Liu?”
When given the affirmative, they would draw themselves up and cup their hands in a formal bow. The three women were well-bred, but now they were somewhat at a loss — the women of this place were also giving them the formal fist-in-palm salute. How were they supposed to respond?
Moreover, they had long heard that Annan had female officials, but one could never be certain with things so far away — there was always the possibility of exaggeration, or that “female official” meant something like a jail-warden or jailer, cold and lowly. Having arrived at the administration compound in person, they could lay their concerns to rest — it was just as rumor had said. At the very least, we need not fear life here will be difficult.
Zhù Ying received them formally in the great hall. She had not met them before, and none of the three resembled Liu Songnian in the least — yet something in their bearing, a faint composed pride, was strikingly similar. She couldn’t help but smile.
The three women were looking at her in return. They had heard of this legendary figure only through hearsay; back in the central plains, scholars still worked themselves into righteous indignation over her “recklessness.” But clearly this had had no effect on her whatsoever. She was still full of spirit and energy; the few threads of silver at her temples, rather than appearing mournful and world-weary as they might on others, only made her seem more commanding.
Liu Ao took in the full measure of Zhù Ying and thought: Different from my grandfather, but no less the bearing of a chancellor.
Liu Kun looked at the blade at Zhù Ying’s waist and thought: So this truly is a person who excels both in the field and in the halls of government.
Liu Yan watched Zhù Ying unfold from her chair with barely any effort, her hand coming to rest on the hilt at her side, long fingers showing the blue of veins across the back of her hand, and thought: Now there is strength.
Su Zhe and He Yueming made introductions. All three of the women stepped forward and curtseyed together, addressing her as “Military Commissioner.” Zhù Ying steadied Liu Ao, the foremost; He Yueming and Su Zhe each steadied one of the two cousins. Zhù Ying said: “You’re all grown up. Chief Counselor Liu didn’t much care to speak of household matters, so we never thought to ask much. Was it he who sent you here? Did your parents also give their blessing?”
Liu Ao said: “Our fathers and brothers had reservations, but we are all going by grandfather’s arrangement — without which, this journey would not have been so smooth. This is his letter.”
She had given no hint of this the entire journey. Now she produced a thick stack of letters. Su Zhe thought: This is someone who gets things done.
Zhù Ying took the letter. Liu Ao then added: “By his instruction, we’ve also brought some books. This is the inventory.”
Zhù Ying took that as well. Without reading the letter first, she said: “You have come a great distance with no one you know. Stay here at my place. Whatever needs saying, once you have rested, we will speak further. I’d like to speak with your servants and hear if they have anything to say.”
Liu Ao thought for a moment and said: “We shall follow your arrangement in everything.”
He Yueming and Su Zhe then led them toward the rear of the compound, introducing along the way what was at the front and what was at the back, and who lived in the rear quarters. Huajie and the others were still at the school and had not returned; Zhù Tong and Lin Ge were on errands. The rear compound was quite quiet.
Zhù Ying was also quiet where she was. She moved to the administrative room and first summoned the head servants that the women had brought, asking whether Liu Songnian had given any instructions.
The male steward said: “The Chief Counselor gave us orders to escort the young mistresses on a visit. There were written orders, as well as letters for his former subordinates. We traveled the official roads and lodged at the post stations — it was all very safe.”
The female steward said: “The Chief Counselor instructed that upon arriving in Annan, we are to follow Chancellor Zhù’s arrangements in everything. Beyond that, we need not concern ourselves.”
Zhù Ying said: “In that case, you will temporarily be counted as members of this household. If in future your young mistresses establish their own separate residence, you will continue to reside with them. For now, your monthly wages will be carried by the administration compound — the same as those of my own staff.”
The two prostrated themselves. Zhù Ying waved her hand and stared after their retreating backs as they left. She muttered: “Crafty old fox.”
She took out the letter and broke the seal.
Liu Songnian’s letter was thick — written entirely in his own hand. It opened with a line: You have achieved great things in Annan, and it does not surprise me that you, Zhù Ying, could accomplish such a work. But that you are a woman — that I did not foresee. Thinking it over carefully, I find it was merely my own rigidity. Throughout history, how many people of humble origin have accomplished great deeds? Since a slave can, and a man of poverty can, and women are no less intelligent — then of course women can too.
However, to have achieved such a work as a woman means that your great undertaking has a very significant flaw. The greatest problem is survival and continuity. If you have a child with your qualities as a natural heir, then disregard what I say. If not, you must be very careful. You must choose your successor with great deliberation — otherwise, look at the fools sitting on the throne!
You must choose someone who can carry on your ambitions and your work. Otherwise, not long after you are gone, Annan may survive, but your work will certainly change beyond recognition. I suspect you also don’t care about your own posthumous reputation — I wouldn’t be surprised if someone digs up your grave.
I imagine you already know all this.
You are sitting tight in Annan, refusing to emerge. Even having opened the postal roads, I can see you did it to “steal knowledge,” not to show loyalty to the dynasty. You had the nerve to say in the great hall that you are a woman — you must have a spirit of defiance unlike ordinary people. But Annan’s strength is not sufficient to support you going out into the world to compete for supremacy at this time. Choosing to hold the defensive is correct. Annan is remote and poor, but that is actually in your favor — it is easy to defend and hard to attack; it will keep you safe without difficulty.
Holding, however, means not only troops and grain and population — it also means rites and institutions, and I expect you are giving yourself headaches over those too. This is perfectly normal, because from the time rites and music were first established, each generation has accumulated a little more experience in how to maintain this system. Accumulated over centuries, what you face is an accumulated body of workable experience tested by practice over generations. By contrast, the experience of resistance — any sprout of it gets cut off before it can take root; it can hardly accumulate.
Your system of permitting women to hold office will be very easily washed away by the tide of a thousand years of accumulated convention with a single great wave. Continuity — you must start from the root. Do not only fix your eyes on “female-headed households.” The dynasty also has those; but the moment such a woman has a son, the head of household becomes the son. It comes to nothing. Why? Because the system rewards male heads of household; female-headed households are looked down upon.
You need a new system to replace the old one.
Bloodlines still matter, but instead of excluding daughters, change it to including capable daughters. You must codify into law: if a daughter is capable, she inherits the family enterprise; the children she has also belong to this family — she cannot toil away her life raising children for someone else’s surname. You must change “daughters have no share in this family” into “daughters have a share.” Give them the opportunity to do the same things as men and receive the same rewards and punishments. Eventually it will come to pass that capable women stay home and manage the estate, while the useless ones go off and make a match. I see no particular problem with that.
So, I think you still need to establish the official-civilian hierarchy — but do not try to force the growth. I think you understand this principle, since you waited until you had become chancellor before declaring yourself a woman, rather than declaring yourself a woman before you even sat the examination and then demanding to be allowed in.
Women are generally less physically strong than men. For field labor, military service, and other work requiring bodily effort, men will still do it. It is genuinely difficult to get “those who labor with their bodies” to accept this in the common folk; among common folk, having more sons means no one takes advantage of you.
But for “those who labor with their minds,” competing by intellect is another matter. My sons and grandsons are not equal to my granddaughters. Set them to the same tasks, and the grandsons fall short of the granddaughters. Make this visible by example, and common folk will imitate it on their own.
Simply “hunkering down and not emerging” will not do, either — I imagine you have already felt this with the opening of the postal roads. Emerging does not necessarily mean you must go out in person. Spreading your laws outward also counts. Find a way to get the dynasty to sanction your institutions, to have them set down in writing. As long as it is committed to words, future generations will find occasion to invoke it as a precedent.
You must learn to leave traces!
I know you are short of books. In a place like Annan, to try through your own efforts alone to catch up with a hundred generations of central plains civilization — that is impossible. So I have asked my granddaughter to bring some books for you. As for these granddaughters of mine — they are my jewels. Cherished as precious things, I have no wish to see them ground to powder and mixed into a draught that strengthens someone else’s bones and flesh, leaving no name behind.
If you believe your Annan can solve the problem of continuity, then keep my granddaughters. Let them also live freely.
I see you as a person of feeling and principle. They are no fools either; they can be of use to you. So I’m sending them along to you. Arrange some positions for them. No need for special treatment; see what they are fit to do, and let them do it.
If you feel Annan’s future is uncertain, the books are still yours. But the people — send them back to me. Entrust them to Chen Fang; let him bring the children home. Whether they marry later and die, or simply die outright, I shall have made the effort.
But you in Annan — in your own affairs, I worry that watching while I’m alive would only vex me. Once I’m dead, you might as well be more ruthless about it.
Well, that’s enough. I’ll leave it there. Blessings that you come to a good end. I suppose you don’t care about that either — bah! I don’t care about my own end, and here I am rambling on about someone else’s.
Zhù Ying looked again at the book inventory — quite comprehensive, listing several hundred titles. Agricultural and horticultural techniques, astronomy and the calendar, medicine — all were well represented, as were some travel accounts. There were also several volumes of Liu Songnian’s own handwritten manuscripts.
“Contrary old man! As if wealth and poverty needed to be specifically established — neglect it for a moment and land seizures take care of that for you.” Zhù Ying put away the letter, walked slowly to the rear compound, and went to look in on Liu Ao and the others.
None of the women were in Liu Ao’s room; everyone was gathered somewhat awkwardly in Liu Yan’s room.
Liu Ao, as the elder, occupied the main room; the two grandnieces had the east and west side rooms. Each had brought two trunks — rather light baggage for young ladies of a distinguished family. The rooms of the administration compound were fairly spacious; even at the Liu chancellery they had not had much more room than this — the household had so many people.
Because Liu Songnian had lived to such an advanced age, the family had never divided the household. By generational order, Liu Ao was already ranked seventeenth in her own generation, and so was known as “Seventeenth Lady.” Liu Kun and Liu Yan’s generational ranks were even higher.
Liu Yan was perfectly satisfied with her room, because even a proper offering table had been prepared inside, complete with plain fruits, incense and candles, and a prayer cushion. She carefully took her sister’s spirit tablet from her bundle and set it in place, then took out a portrait from her bag and hung it on the wall, removing and setting aside the calligraphic work that had been hanging there.
The portrait had just been hung when He Yueming came again, pulling Su Zhe behind her. Being outsiders who had relocated here, He Yueming felt a closer kinship with them from the start.
Su Zhe glanced at the painting and frowned involuntarily. She recognized at once that the portrait was of the celebrated lady Cai Wenji from the stories of gifted women; the moment Su Zhe saw it, she began to wonder what the intention was. Wenji Returns to Han? Then what did that make them?
He Yueming did not catch on at first; half a beat later she said: “Is this — it couldn’t be your elder sister, could it?”
The conversation drew in Liu Ao and the others. Everyone glanced at one another awkwardly. Su Zhe braced herself and said: “This Wenji — she still needs to return to Han, does she?”
Liu Ao said: “That was Twelfth Lady’s favorite picture when she was alive. You brought it too?”
Liu Yan said: “That one was sent down with her to the grave. This one I painted myself.”
Liu Ao said: “Twelfth Lady was Liu Yan’s elder sister from the same mother. She often said that women need not be lesser than men — take Cai Yong, for example: he had countless disciples, and only his daughter truly inherited his learning. What great matter in this world was she ever given the chance to accomplish? She said — even being a jail-warden would be fine — but how could the family allow that? In the end she could not escape being married off. Just before the wedding ceremony she suddenly fell gravely ill, and then she died. Of all of us, our grandfather was most fond of her — said she resembled him most. His decision to have us come here was probably because of her death.”
He Yueming thought: If I were in his position, I’d probably sink into despair as well.
Su Zhe’s face flushed; she regretted her suspicion of a moment ago and said nothing.
A deep quiet settled over the east side room.
Zhù Ying stood seven paces away watching them. She let out a quiet cough. The women came back to their senses and addressed her in a jumble of different ways. Zhù Ying walked in and looked at the portrait hanging on the wall. “Painted skillfully,” she said.
Su Zhe quickly said: “It was something the deceased was fond of.”
Zhù Ying looked at the spirit tablet. On it was written a name: Liu Zhenyu. She lit incense before it and said softly: “Now that you’re here, settle in with an easy mind.”
Liu Ao wasn’t sure whether the words were addressed to herself or to the girl who had passed on. She hesitated about whether to respond; Zhù Ying turned around and said: “You guessed correctly.”
Liu Yan gave a quiet sob. Zhù Ying patted her on the shoulder and said: “Your great-grandfather, though stubborn in speech, understood everything and dared to acknowledge everything — unlike some people who pretend blindness.”
Liu Ao took the lead, first dusting off a chair with her handkerchief, then inviting Zhù Ying to sit, the three women bustling about to attend to her. Zhù Ying said: “Chief Counselor Liu has entrusted you to me, so I’ve come to see how you are. You needn’t be so formal — as you’ll come to know in time, this compound is the last place that stands on ceremony. Rest first. Tomorrow we’ll go to the temple. A few days from now, once you’re rested, we’ll talk over your arrangements.”
Liu Ao said: “We will follow your instructions.”
Zhù Ying then said to He Yueming: “Before you go back, spend some time chatting with them — how to adapt to the climate and the local customs, how to keep cool and manage the heat in summer. Although they will receive the same provisions as the rest of the compound, some things they may not know how to use. There are things they’ll encounter that are new.”
He Yueming smiled: “Yes.”
Zhù Ying said: “You get on with things. We’ll eat a simple meal together in a little while.” And with her hands clasped behind her back, she strolled back out.
He Yueming and Su Zhe then explained to the three women the details of compound life — that the servants were not slaves, and so on. The three women then learned that Zhù Ying herself kept very few personal attendants, and that Annan had indeed abolished slavery, not merely as a figure of speech. Since Annan women could hold office, naturally they could sit at table; in a little while at dinner, the three women would meet the men and women officials of the compound together.
He Yueming also told them that many aspects of the “ritual teachings” in Annan were simply inapplicable, and so if the three of them felt they had been affronted, they should for the moment hold back from taking offense, ask some long-established person at the compound, and see whether it was simply a difference in customs. After living here a while, everything would become clear.
As Zhù Ying walked back to the front, she was intercepted by Zhao Su and the others, all eager to know the meaning of Liu Songnian’s gesture. By rights, not sending his sons and grandsons but only a few young women was a gesture that fell short. But this was Liu Songnian. And books had been sent as well; and this was Annan, where women served all the same.
Facing a row of faces waiting for an answer, Zhù Ying said: “We’ll eat a simple meal together shortly, and everyone can meet. Chief Counselor Liu entrusted them to my care. Let them settle first; once I’ve spoken with them, we’ll see whether you end up with a few new colleagues.”
“Ah!” said Zhao Su. So it was fifty-fifty: fully committing them to Annan wasn’t quite possible for Liu Songnian to do either, but the old man’s breadth of mind was truly unlike most people’s.
Lin Feng laughed: “So we’ll have more capable people soon!”
Zhù Chonghua said: “The school—”
Zhù Ying said: “You’re in luck — with these three, I won’t be competing with any of you for others.”
So these three weren’t for them at all?
Zhù Ying smiled: “Coming up, Zhao Ji and the others will be going to serve in the various counties. Without going to the local level, one cannot claim to understand practical affairs. Go back and get ready — and wait to receive your people.”
Everyone cheered up again.
Dinner was soon underway. To welcome the distinguished guests from the capital, the meal was more lavish than usual. The three women were seated at Zhù Ying’s right hand. They demurred greatly, but Huajie said: “You’re guests right now — just sit.”
Zhao Su and the others began asking how the journey from the Liu family home had been, how tiring the road, then introducing themselves one by one, all urging the women to settle comfortably in Annan. The three looked at the spread before them — male and female officials together, some seated beside each other, some sharing a table, all perfectly at ease. Some were even haggling with one another at table; Zhao Su was trying to get two people from Witch Ren, and Witch Ren refused; they went back and forth, until Witch Ren buried her head and pretended she wasn’t there, and wolfed down an entire plate of fried lotus.
The corners of Liu Ao’s mouth curved upward involuntarily.
After dinner everyone retired. The three women found it difficult to sleep. Liu Kun grabbed a pillow and went knocking on the other two doors; all three ended up crowded together on Liu Ao’s bed. Everything felt like a dream.
The next morning the compound rose early; the three women were also not late to rise. The Liu family was a “household of poetry and propriety”; younger generations could not skip their morning greetings to the elders, and the three had all grown up this way.
Breakfast was again with Zhù Ying. The three watched carefully; Zhù Ying carried no airs, and the food was not elaborate. After eating, they went to the temple to offer rites for Liu Songnian. The services were indeed still ongoing; today was the second day.
Leaving the temple, Liu Ao said to Zhù Ying: “We have yet to pay our respects at the Old Mistress’s memorial.”
After that, Liu Ao and the others settled in at the administration compound. Zhù Lian, Zhao Su, Lin Feng, and Su Zhe all invited them out — during the mourning period one could not say “for amusement,” but a brief outing to clear one’s head and see some familiar faces was perfectly manageable. None of them brought up official business, and simply let the women settle in without pressure.
The atmosphere here was relaxed. Even more relaxing was what they discovered through conversation with Su Zhe and the others: they could leave the compound freely — one just showed one’s identity token. They could stroll through the market, taking care only for their safety; the compound also arranged a translator. Their mandarin was quite good, but the mandarin of the streets was another matter.
After a few days of novelty, Liu Ao proactively asked to go over the hand-over of the books she had brought. Zhù Ying had told them to rest, and indeed had not pressed them for several days. Yet the three women had things on their minds. Su Zhe and Lin Feng were former subordinates; Zhù Ying was another matter entirely — she was the one in authority. How could they go on staying here indefinitely without any arrangement?
The three conferred, and used the books as a pretext to have a proper conversation with Zhù Ying.
Liu Yan said: “But we’re still in mourning. Wouldn’t it be improper to discuss official appointments at such a time?”
Liu Kun said: “We don’t need to talk about official appointments — we should at least discuss what we can do. We can’t just keep living here like this, doing nothing. That’s no different from home — just a slightly larger cage.”
Liu Ao made the decision: “Don’t we have the books as an occasion? And you — isn’t Heaven itself also just a great cage? What are you doing puzzling over that now? Let’s go. We’ll request to see the Military Commissioner.”
Zhù Ying had been expecting them, actually. The books she sent had grown thinner each day; they had also stopped drawing funds from the account for their outings. At dinner, they seemed increasingly preoccupied with something, and the lamp oil they drew in the evenings had also grown.
The three came to request an audience. Zhù Ying received them in her study. Liu Ao opened with an apology: “We are young and inexperienced — these past few days we’ve been quite bewildered, and only today realized that the books have not yet been delivered to you.”
Zhù Ying said: “What of that? These are things you brought with you; you will deal with them as you see fit. Is there any call to rush a host into taking things from her guests?”
Liu Ao probed: “And if we are not guests? Our grandfather instructed us to do our utmost to make Annan our home — I wonder what your thoughts are?”
Zhù Ying turned the question back: “What do you yourselves want?”
The three exchanged a glance; it was Liu Ao who spoke first: “We — naturally we wish to accomplish something! Test us as you see fit; whatever we are capable of, we will do. Whatever subject — we can take any examination.”
They had also made inquiries: Annan’s examinations had no restrictions whatsoever. The only condition for those who wished to hold office was to move their family to Annan — and this too was manageable. Liu Kun had already thought it through: the three of them would be each other’s family. They could send one person first to take the examination; once that person passed, the other two would be her “household,” thus satisfying the requirement. Then the other two could sit the examination as well!
Liu Yan added a footnote: “We are still in mourning. We ask that you examine us in practical matters first.”
Zhù Ying said: “Mourning — that’s true. Oh, we in Annan don’t make much of that. We grant mourning leave. And the dynasty has no say over whether officials in Annan step down or remain. But since you are willing to observe mourning, that is not a bad thing either. As for the books — hand them over to the Rites Department presently. Come now — I happen to have a document to send to Qingjun; draft it for me, and I’ll have a look.”
The three were suddenly put on the spot; they were quite nervous, but composed themselves and wrote on the spot. Zhù Ying found that Liu Ao was the most steady; Liu Kun had accidentally written two wrong characters and had to make corrections; Liu Yan wrote the fastest.
All three wrote well. First, the format — properly formal dynastic document style. Then the calligraphy — standard regular script throughout. And most importantly, the wording — precise and concise. Liu Kun’s was even rather vivid.
In the end Zhù Ying decided that Liu Ao’s was the most appropriate.
“Twelfth Lady wrote far better than I do,” Liu Ao said. All three sighed.
Zhù Ying changed tasks and set them to write a piece on the harvest festival and the joy shared with the people; the three wrote that as well. Then Zhù Ying tested them in arithmetic, and then in two judgment exercises for cases.
Zhù Ying said: “Your learning exceeds that of many people here. I don’t want to bury your learning, and still less do I want to bury you yourselves. So you will need to be busier and more hard-working. I need people who can compose authoritative texts, and I also need people who can handle practical work beyond what books teach. The trouble is that would mean you couldn’t stay in the administration compound for long — you would need to go to the local level and gain experience, just as the others do. All of this is for you to think over clearly. Observe mourning for one year; in this year, inventory the books, help me review the legal codes, draft official documents, familiarize yourselves with the people and structures here — and take no official appointment yet. In one year’s time, I will give you your postings.”
Liu Kun asked: “Won’t we be tested together with everyone else? Might people say it’s unfair?”
Nomination and patronage were common enough, but they had always assumed that since they wished to hold office, they must demonstrate capability in a way that others could plainly see; without that, one’s background would not be “proper,” which was regrettable.
Zhù Ying smiled: “How would you be tested? I’m still waiting for one of you to be able to help me set examination questions for others! Annan is newly established — the institutions are still incomplete to this day. We must rely on everyone’s contributions. I’ll give you half a month. Inventory the books, then begin drafting elementary education primers.”
Zhù Ying’s abacus clicked along. Given Liu Songnian’s household education, there were surely materials for foundational learning in abundance. Annan had only one children’s learning song — too thin. She needed to dig something useful out of the three women’s minds.
What followed was work: assist Zhù Ying in reviewing the legal codes she had drafted, focused mainly on the “continuity” problem Liu Songnian had raised in his letter — specifically, how to use language more comprehensible and acceptable to scholars to resolve the problem of the female-headed household, without at this moment provoking the dynasty and causing trouble.
The three were still young, and assumed Zhù Ying was being considerate — letting them observe mourning while still giving them work to do. They had elder sisters and younger sisters and whole clusters of female cousins, most of whom had been married off; only the three of them had been lucky enough to get a chance to come south. Of course they wanted to make something of it. They immediately set their full vigor to work. The amount of time Liu Yan spent each evening reporting the day’s events to her sister’s spirit tablet grew shorter and shorter; they turned over the books and began writing from memory how they had been taught their foundational learning as children.
The half-month passed in a flash. He Yueming and the others had long since departed. The three women were growing accustomed to living in the compound.
Liu Ao spent more and more time at Zhù Ying’s side, with two more tails following behind — Zhù Tong and Lin Ge, who also lived in the compound and much preferred reading military texts, often pestering Liu Ao to explain the passages to them. Liu Ao herself knew nothing of military strategy, yet reading texts was something she did extremely well; the three of them together found real enjoyment in it.
When winter came and winter clothing was distributed, the three also received their allocation along with the rest of the compound. On their own, they and their maidservants set to work with needle and thread, adjusting the cut slightly — taking in the waist to create a more fitted silhouette. Once finished, there was a small anxious moment: might someone say it was improper to attend to matters of appearance during a period of mourning? But when they wore the altered garments out, no one reproached them for placing such care on appearances during mourning or for violating propriety. Jiang Zhen and Jiang Bao even pulled them aside to ask how the alteration was done.
Liu Kun said carefully: “I’ve lost a little weight since coming to Annan; the winter coat was too loose and made me feel cold. I just took it in a bit.” And then she explained the method.
That very evening, the kitchen sent over a night snack, telling them to eat more and put on some weight.
Liu Yan pinned Liu Kun down on the bed and tickled her sides: “Why couldn’t you say you’ve become more trim since coming here? You’ve obviously gotten fatter.”
Amid the laughter, the days rolled on to the new year. It would have been inappropriate for the three to join in the more boisterous festivities, so they spent the occasion with Zhù Ying on the rooftop, drinking wine and watching fireworks light up the entire city below. The following year, once the mourning period ended, Zhù Ying kept Liu Ao at her side, assigned Liu Kun to the Rites Department, and sent Liu Yan to the Law Department.
In addition to inventorying the books, they began assisting Zhù Ying in systematically reviewing and revising Annan’s laws and regulations. Liu Yan was extraordinarily meticulous — wherever Zhù Ying had overlooked something, she would identify it and extract it, determined to strip out every trace of content that elevated one sex over the other. She paid particular attention to family ethics and the “inner-outer” division.
The first batch of public announcements focused mainly on criminal law — penalties were established first, with other content to follow in subsequent announcements.
Annan’s various institutions gradually became more complete, and the school’s book collection grew richer as well. What pressed most urgently was that the speed of the printing houses still could not keep pace. Xiang An, at Zhù Ying’s direction and through her own connections, managed through great effort to lure several skilled woodblock carvers down from outside the mountains with high salaries, and this finally relieved the worst of the urgency.
In this same year, the dynasty at last brought good news: Yao Chenying had proven himself capable. After years of campaigning on the western frontier, and at no small cost, he had finally defeated the Western Tribes.
But according to Zhù Ying’s informants, the Western Tribes had also seized a great deal in this conflict — it was not quite a decisive defeat.
Zhù Ying said to Liu Ao: “Draft a letter of congratulations. And by the way — to mark the occasion, I’ve decided to add a few people to the administration roster. You will serve as Rector; Liu Kun and Liu Yan may serve as Instructors for the time being.”
Liu Ao’s heart leapt with joy — then she said: “For us, having actual posts in Annan and carrying the round seal is perfectly fine. As for official appointments from the dynasty — I fear that would stir up trouble. Our fathers and brothers still have their careers ahead of them; we would not want to implicate them.”
Zhù Ying said: “Take half a day and think it over.”
Liu Ao said: “I’ll write it.”
She wrote it in short order. Then Zhù Ying said: “Draft another document as well — address the tribal general. Tell him a peace agreement has been reached, so he had better behave himself. Otherwise, once Kun Da Chi returns, I’ll deal exclusively with him. Let the general think it over.”
“Yes.”
The following spring, Annan and the Western Tribes reached a peace agreement. Zhù Ying ordered Zhù Qingjun to return and recuperate, and sent Lin Feng to hold the position firm.
The congratulatory memorial sent to the dynasty was approved and returned from the Grand Council. Liu Ao had been clever about it — she had not listed her own paternal grandfather in her three-generation genealogy. Otherwise, the moment “Liu Songnian” appeared, all sorts of complications would follow. The several chancellors on the Grand Council could not recite by memory the names of every granddaughter and great-granddaughter of Liu Songnian’s. Regarding Zhù Ying’s requests for female officials, they had taken to approving them with their eyes closed — better than letting her find some excuse to make trouble for everyone.
On the day the seals and ribbons of office arrived, Liu Yan placed her formal garments before her sister’s spirit tablet.