When Xiang’er saw Ji Yingying return through the back door, she immediately relaxed, greeting her with a smile: “Young Miss, you’ve returned so quickly.”
How could she not be quick? Ji Yingying kicked at the wild grass, dejected. She hadn’t seen the person she wanted to meet and had only gotten angry instead. Listlessly, she said, “It’s still early, I’ll draw a divination lot.”
She went to the main hall and shook the lot container with sincere devotion. Hearing the bamboo slip fall, Ji Yingying picked it up and looked. It showed the eleventh lot. She took it to the old monk sitting at a table beside the main hall: “Master Wuyou, please help interpret this lot for me.”
Ji Yingying came every few days, so Master Wuyou knew her well. He smiled and took the bamboo slip, glancing at the number before asking: “What does Young Benefactor Ji wish to know about?”
Ji Yingying couldn’t bring herself to say she was asking about her romance with Zhao Xiuyuan, so she just smiled pleadingly: “Just check what the lot says and you’ll know!”
The container held three hundred and eighty-four lots. Master Wuyou knew each one by heart.
The eleventh lot was an extremely inauspicious one. Its verse read: “No trace and no trail, near or far hard to find, waves rise on level ground, laughter turns to tears.”
All matters unfavorable.
Looking at Ji Yingying’s lotus-like lovely face, Master Wuyou didn’t need to guess—the young lady had come to ask about romance. Not wanting to upset her, he took out the thick book of interpretations and slowly turned the pages: “Young Benefactor doesn’t know what she seeks, which means her heart isn’t sincere. When the heart isn’t sincere, the lot won’t be accurate.”
Ji Yingying stared at the ground, her embroidered shoes gently brushing the wild grass growing between the stone slabs, thinking of Zhao Xiuyuan’s loving gaze and straight bearing, her face flushing red. Who said her heart wasn’t sincere? She was just too embarrassed to say it.
“Master, isn’t this the verse for the eleventh lot? Yes, that’s it, stop turning pages! Quickly interpret it for this young lady. I’m still waiting for my interpretation.”
The sudden intruding voice made both Master Wuyou and Ji Yingying look up in annoyance.
“What business is it of yours?! Master Wuyou, keep this lot for me. I’ll come back another time for the interpretation!” Ji Yingying recognized the man from the mountain forest and stomped away angrily.
Master Wuyou was also angry—he had been hoping to ask Ji Yingying to help embroider a kasaya. He snapped the book shut, stood up, and chanted: “This humble monk only interprets ten lots per day. Benefactor, please return tomorrow.”
Who says monks don’t have tempers? Master Wuyou looked at the sun’s position, thinking he should tell the kitchen to add extra seasoning to this sharp-tongued young man’s vegetarian meal.
Zhulin Temple was small, with only one large room for dining. Unless wealthy families rented it privately for solitude, everyone ate there with other worshippers. A screen in the dining hall separated the men’s and women’s dining areas.
Yang Jingyuan took two bites of food and had to drink two bowls of tea, still unable to quench his thirst. At eighteen, he was still growing and had to force himself to eat two bowls of rice to feel half full. Seeing others around him praising the taste, he knew the old monk was deliberately playing a trick on him.
He had come to Zhulin Temple sincerely seeking divination. He had waited quite a while as the old monk chatted away with that lively young lady. Seeing her manner, she seemed to have someone in her heart but was too embarrassed to say she was asking about romance. His curiosity got the better of him, which was why he stepped forward to look at her lot’s verse. When he saw it, he almost laughed out loud. This young lady’s romance wasn’t favored. His lot, however, was most auspicious.
Not giving an interpretation was one thing, but was it necessary to season his food like this?
Ji Yingying’s clear laughter came from behind the screen. Yang Jingyuan’s mood soured again. If they wouldn’t let him eat in peace, he wouldn’t let her be at ease either.
“No trace and no trail, near or far hard to find, waves rise on level ground, laughter turns to tears. The eleventh lot is most inauspicious! Alas, all matters are unfavorable!”
He finished reciting and pricked up his ears to listen.
Ji Yingying heard every word. So that’s what the verse said.
Zhao Xiuyuan had never missed their meetings before. Why hadn’t he come today? Last time they met, he said he would send a matchmaker to propose, but today he stood her up… Ji Yingying’s mood also soured.
But she didn’t want to give satisfaction to the man behind the screen who had peeked at her lot, so she pinched Xiang’er and whispered: “Pretend to cry! The more heartbroken the better! When we return to town, I’ll buy you Li’s freshly baked brown sugar pancakes!”
Xiang’er loved brown sugar pancakes the most. Every time she accompanied Ji Yingying out, she hoped to get one for a treat. She dared not disobey Ji Yingying’s instructions, and with the temptation of brown sugar pancakes, Xiang’er decisively buried her head in her arms and began wailing loudly.
Yang Jingyuan could recognize Ji Yingying’s voice when she spoke. But the crying he wasn’t sure about. Hearing such long, mournful wails of apparent heartbreak, he felt he had gone too far. Someone asking about romance—even the monk hadn’t had the heart to say it was most inauspicious. The over-seasoned vegetarian food wasn’t her doing, why take it out on her?
In his urgency, Yang Jingyuan remembered his fifteenth lot, which was on the same page as the eleventh. With his photographic memory, he recalled the verse: “Oh my, I remembered wrong. The eleventh lot’s verse should be: ‘Faith comes in idle moments, old friends wander a thousand miles, wild geese bring news from the sky’s edge, one plum blossom returns spring’s splendor.’ It’s a most auspicious lot! All expectations can be fulfilled, just requiring some patience. How could I have remembered incorrectly?”
As soon as he finished speaking, the crying continued. He saw Ji Yingying peek at her smiling face through the meditation room’s doorway, exclaiming happily: “Uncle Ji, I drew an auspicious lot! I’m so happy. Once you finish eating, let’s head home.”
Then she smiled at Yang Jingyuan. Her eyebrows jumped up and down dramatically, showing her joy.
Yang Jingyuan couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation.
Ji Yingying withdrew her head and disappeared, and the crying next door stopped. Yang Jingyuan watched a simple-looking man stand up and quickly followed, deftly hooking and dropping Ji Fu’s tobacco pouch from his belt. He called out to Ji Fu: “Uncle, you dropped something.”
Ji Fu, unaware of any trick, picked up his pouch and turned to bow to Yang Jingyuan: “Thank you, young master.”
“You’re too kind, Uncle. Are you a local? I am Yang Jingyuan from Yizhou Prefecture, having heard of Zhulin Temple’s efficacy, I came specially to seek divination. Do you know of any other places worth visiting nearby?”
Ji Fu had seen plenty of the silk thread his household supplied. He immediately recognized that Yang Jingyuan’s light robe with small lotus flower patterns was woven from the Ji family’s Shu red silk.
Huanhua Dyehouse’s Shu red silk had different reds representing the flowers of the four seasons. Spring had peony red, crabapple red, apricot, and peach red. Summer had rose, cotton flowers, and cherry red. Autumn had its colors and winter its reds.
Only someone from a wealthy household could wear such lotus red brocade. This year, the Ji family supplied a batch of lotus red to the Yang family, major brocade makers in Yizhou, and the Zhao family in the county. Hearing Yang Jingyuan say he was from Yizhou, Ji Fu couldn’t help asking: “Might you be from the Brocade King Yang family of Yang Family Lane?”
Yang Jingyuan hadn’t intended to use his family name, but he wanted to know which family that playful, lovable young lady belonged to. He nodded with a broad smile: “I am the Yang family’s third son.”
Ji Fu quickly introduced himself as well: “This humble servant is from Huanhua Dyehouse, accompanying our Young Miss to burn incense. If the young master doesn’t mind, I can report to my mistress and arrange a proper welcome.”
Oh, so she was Young Miss Ji from Huanhua Dyehouse at Three Canals. Having learned what he wanted to know, Yang Jingyuan declined: “I have an urgent business back in Yizhou City. I will certainly visit Proprietress Ji another day. Farewell.”
Ji Fu was just a servant and couldn’t detain the Yang family’s third young master, so he could only feel somewhat regretful. Throughout Yizhou Prefecture, along both banks of the Min River, Huanhua Stream, and Jin River, there were countless dyehouses. Though the Ji family’s dyed silk was famous, competition was fierce. He sighed and told Ji Yingying about this after leaving Zhulin Temple.
Ji Yingying pouted. She thought, what’s so great about being the Brocade King Yang family? In this autumn’s brocade competition, the Zhao family would surely defeat the Yang family, take their Brocade King plaque, and then they would be called Brocade King Zhao.
On the return journey, Ji Yingying eagerly watched the passersby, afraid of missing Zhao Xiuyuan. Only when the mule cart entered the city did she give up hope.
She immediately thought of that lot. No, no, surely it was the later verse. Brother Xiuyuan must have been detained by something, that’s why he didn’t come. She would see him after some time.
Only able to meet secretly once every month or two, Ji Yingying couldn’t help missing Zhao Xiuyuan. Having just visited Zhulin Temple, what excuse could she find to go out again?
In the county town, Li’s freshly baked brown sugar pancakes were toasted to a light golden crisp. One gentle bite and the amber-colored melted brown sugar would flow out, both scalding hot and fragrant. Ji Yingying and Xiang’er sat in the mule cart eating until their hands were sticky with sugar, laughing sheepishly as they licked their fingers. Having shared a small secret, the bond between mistress and maid deepened a bit more.
After finishing the brown sugar pancakes, Ji Yingying smiled broadly as she thought of a way to go out again.