Upon entering the main gate, Ji Yingying first went to Ji Yaoting’s quarters in the front courtyard, carrying the still-warm brown sugar pancakes while calling out: “Brother, I’m back! I bought you brown sugar pancakes.”
Ji Yingying pushed open her elder brother’s door—strange, where was he? Had he gone to the dyehouse again? She left two pancakes on the table and headed through the moon gate to the back courtyard with Xiang’er.
Just as they rounded the honeysuckle trellis, Ji Yingying was startled.
Eleven silk-washing maids knelt in the courtyard outside the main hall. Mother Ji stood imposingly under the eaves, holding her washing paddle. All the household’s menial servants stood obediently to one side.
The main hall’s doors were wide open, and from afar she could see the familiar cyan lotus brocade clothing at the eight-immortals table—her mother’s attire from this morning. Beside it was a crimson robe, undoubtedly her brother’s.
Ji Yingying and Xiang’er exchanged worried glances. What had happened? Had the washed silk’s color gone wrong? Or had it tangled into a mess during washing?
She instinctively raised a finger to Xiang’er, signaling her to stay quiet. The two tried to slip along the wall toward the side courtyard.
“Madam, Young Miss has returned!”
Though Madam Ji hadn’t seen from the inside, Mother Ji perfectly fulfilled her role as her eyes. At that loud shout, Ji Yingying’s raised tiptoes made a reflexive turn. There was no avoiding her mother now.
But then she thought, why should I feel guilty? I went to burn incense and fulfill vows early this morning—I’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve even done good.
Ji Yingying walked into the main hall with a bright smile: “Mother, I bought some brown sugar pancakes on my way back. They’re still warm, try one. I’ll pour you some tea!”
“Bang!” Madam Ji slammed the table hard. “Go kneel under the eaves!”
“Mother, what’s wrong now? I just got back and haven’t done anything! Why am I being punished to kneel again?” Ji Yingying protested with pouting lips.
Madam Ji pointed at her, her finger trembling, then suddenly shifted to point at Xiang’er, who stood at the doorway with a lowered head, not daring to enter: “Take her away and sell her!”
Xiang’er’s legs gave way as she fell to her knees, crying: “Please show mercy, Madam, don’t sell this servant! This servant kowtows to you!”
Mother Ji waved her hand and two servant women approached with hemp rope to bind her.
“Wait!” Ji Yingying, seeing her mother’s fury directed at Xiang’er, knew the dyehouse incident had been discovered. She quickly dropped to her knees and began confessing: “Mother, I was wrong, I’ll never enter the dyehouse again. It’s not Xiang’er’s fault. She was sold to our family at age six, please have pity on her. I’ll listen to you, I swear I won’t step foot in the dyehouse again! Please, Mother!”
Her son was filial and obedient, though far less talented than her daughter. But he was still the son who would inherit the family business. Madam Ji had no choice. She didn’t expect Huanhua Dyehouse to flourish under her son’s management or produce better silk. As long as Ji Yaoting could remember the Ji family’s secret formulas and maintain the business, that would suffice. Unless Ji Yingying chose not to marry and became a lifelong spinster, Madam Ji would never unreservedly pass the secrets to her.
Her daughter was sixteen now, beautiful and graceful, soon to be of age for marriage arrangements. Madam Ji couldn’t bear to ruin her life. But why was she so disobedient? Looking at Ji Yingying’s shameless expression, Madam Ji grew increasingly angry.
“Swearing again? Do you think making vows is as casual as eating? One today, another tomorrow. Ji Yingying, if I don’t discipline you today, you’ll never learn!”
Ji Yingying had grown up under family discipline. That her mother was still speaking to her meant there was room for leniency. Looking back, she saw Xiang’er already bound and gagged, tears in her eyes as she looked at her. Just a quarter hour ago, they had been happily munching brown sugar pancakes together—Ji Yingying couldn’t bear to watch Xiang’er being taken away to be sold. She kowtowed heavily to Madam Ji. Her head struck the stone floor, making stars dance before her eyes as tears of genuine pain, not pretense, sprang forth: “Mother, make Xiang’er my maid. We’ll stay quietly in the side courtyard doing embroidery work together. From now on, I truly won’t enter our family’s dyehouse again. I know our family secrets can’t be passed to other families through married-out daughters. I’ve never once dyed Shu red silk or Huanhua silk. Ask brother if you don’t believe me.”
Ji Yaoting’s heart trembled at the sharp sound of their forehead meeting stone. Seeing his sister’s fair forehead visibly bruising, he felt the pain himself. He lifted his robe and knelt before Madam Ji: “Mother, our family’s secrets are passed down orally generation by generation. I haven’t spoken a single word. Sister is sensible and has never asked me. I was the one who took her into the dyehouse—the fault is mine. If you must punish someone, punish me. However many strokes of the board you wish to give, I’ll bear them all if only you’ll calm down.”
If it were just Ji Yingying’s transgression, Madam Ji might have taken out the chicken feather duster from the celadon vase and started beating. But this involved her only son, her life’s hope—she couldn’t bear to harm a finger on him. Yet today was about establishing authority. While she was away, Mother Ji had momentarily lost watch, and those worthless girls dared let Ji Yingying into the dyehouse, even letting her make dyes and dye things. If the Ji family didn’t crack down now, they risked outsiders taking advantage. Every silk house dyed Shu red silk. Who knew when a family traitor might steal the dyes and discover the Ji family’s secrets?
Thinking of this, Madam Ji didn’t let her children rise but directly ordered: “Ten strokes for the silk-washing maids. Ten extra for Xiang’er. Next time I hear of anyone daring to violate the dyehouse rules, they won’t be sold—they’ll be beaten to death. After Xiang’er’s beating, carry Young Miss to the side courtyard. Once her wounds heal, she and Ling’er will serve Young Miss together. You two keep kneeling and watching. Mother Ji, carry out the family punishment.”
“Yes, Madam!” Mother Ji received the order and directed the servant women to begin in the courtyard.
The young maids knew crying out would only make their beatings worse, so they gagged themselves with handkerchiefs.
At Mother Ji’s glance, the palm-wide nanmu boards whistled through the air, striking with sharp cracks.
With each sound of wood meeting flesh, Ji Yingying and Ji Yaoting sucked in their breath as if their teeth ached.
After the maids’ beating finished, Ji Yingying didn’t escape punishment either.
“Lock the side courtyard. She can come out when she’s finished embroidering ten volumes of scripture,” Madam Ji announced Ji Yingying’s punishment. After a day of turmoil, she was weary. She instructed Ji Fu to fetch a doctor for medicine for the maids, then rose with Mother Li’s support.
Ji Yingying quickly scrambled up from the ground, calling after her: “Mother, Master Wuyou at Zhulin Temple said that embroidering scriptures, having them chanted before Buddha, and enshrining them in the family shrine brings prosperity to descendants! I’ll take each volume to the temple for Master Wuyou to chant as I finish them.”
“Is that so? That’s wonderful.” Madam Ji indeed perked up.
Just as Ji Yingying was feeling pleased, Madam Ji added: “When each volume is finished, I’ll have someone deliver it to Master Wuyou. As I said, you can leave when all ten volumes are complete.”
With that, Madam Ji turned and entered her inner chamber. Ji Yingying stamped her foot in frustration and stormed off.
“Sister, I didn’t tell you about you helping me dye those vats of silk. Fortunately, only we know about that,” Ji Yaoting followed Ji Yingying out of the main hall, speaking softly.
“I know, I won’t tell anyone, Brother.” Ji Yingying tugged at her brother’s sleeve, eyes darting toward the main hall as she mumbled, “Go to the Zhao family, won’t you?”
Ji Yaoting didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He advised in a low voice: “Yingying, men are like fishing—if you put too much bait, they’ll eat it and swim away without being caught. Let’s be more reserved, hmm?”
Having just been accused of throwing herself at Yang Jingyuan, and now hearing her brother counsel restraint, Ji Yingying angrily elbowed Ji Yaoting in the chest, raising her eyebrows: “Who told you to go see Brother Xiuyuan? I want you to find out what happened to the Zhao family today! If he tries to talk to you, don’t respond, understand? Your sister is being reserved, hmph!”
Little tigress! Whoever marries you is sure to be henpecked! Ji Yaoting rubbed his chest and agreed with a grumble.
Ji Yingying stomped back to the side courtyard to check on Xiang’er.
“Young Miss, Xiang’er’s wounds have been treated,” Ling’er rose from beside the bed.
“Young Miss, thank you!” Not being sold and still able to serve by Young Miss’s side, no longer having to wash silk in the river year-round—Xiang’er excitedly knocked her head against the pillow in kowtows to Ji Yingying.
“No need to thank me. Just be truly loyal to me as your mistress.” Ji Yingying glanced at Ling’er, who kept her eyes lowered as if she hadn’t heard, making Ji Yingying’s anger rise.
With Ling’er’s contract in her mother’s hands, Ji Yingying knew her anger was unreasonable. With Ling’er as a spy, even speaking freely was difficult, so Ji Yingying sent her to the kitchen to fetch dinner.
She lifted the thin blanket covering Xiang’er’s back to check the wounds: “Don’t worry, Madam is too frugal to spend silver—she knows her limits. The beating wasn’t severe. You’ll heal in a few days.”
Suddenly remembering something, she rushed out of the side room and ran back to her chamber.
“How cruel! They cleared everything!” Ji Yingying ground her back teeth in anger at the empty room.
The minerals she had secretly collected, the potted plants she had grown to hide from her mother—all gone without a trace. Even the poinsettia used to signal Zhao Xiuyuan had been taken.
Ji Yingying quickly went to the bookshelf and flipped through several books, angrily throwing them to the ground. All her carefully made dye plant specimens were gone.
She pulled open a drawer and couldn’t help shouting: “Mother, is this necessary? Can’t you let me have some fun? At least sell them and give me the silver! It took me half a year of savings to buy those!”
The small scale for weighing, the little knife for cutting, the stone mortar for grinding herbs, the brushes for mixing dyes—all vanished. Her brother had specially ordered each one for her. Each piece was exquisitely crafted and delicate. The scale beam was even carved from ivory. It pained her heart terribly.
Ji Yingying lay on the desk in frustration, picking up a brush to scribble randomly. After a few strokes, she drew a caterpillar: “It’s all your fault, you harbinger of bad luck!”
Truly, all matters were unfavorable!