Xiuyuan stood outside the curtain. The sound of Qiao Lianfang’s heartbroken weeping came through clearly.

Her eyes dimmed. In her ears rang the gentle yet somewhat stern voice of Xu Lingyi.

“…Men uphold the three bonds and five constants; women uphold the three obediences and four virtues. You went to Dajue Temple — in all you saw and heard, all you did and encountered, you ought to have gained some enlightenment. As for what came before, I will not speak of it. This time, you are brought home to celebrate the new year at the Madam’s wish. I ask only that you learn from the Madam’s conduct and bearing, reflect upon yourself at all times — know what may be done and what may not be done — so that you do not cause your white-haired elders to live in fear and unease, day and night…”

Xiuyuan sighed softly, hesitated a moment, then lifted the curtain and went in.

Qiao Lianfang was bent over the low table on the kang. Beside her hand, a blue-and-white teacup painted with a shepherd boy playing a flute on a yellow-bottomed blue-bordered pattern still let off curling wisps of steam.

“Miss!” Xiuyuan approached gently.

Qiao Lianfang looked up. Her delicate makeup had been entirely washed away by tears.

She looked at this maidservant who had always stood by her side no matter what, and her tears fell all the faster.

“He is right. Our body and skin — received from our father and mother. For me to behave as I have is to show neither loyalty nor filial piety…”

Seeing how low her spirits and how deflated her energy, Xiuyuan quickly called for a little maidservant to bring in water, pulled out a handkerchief and helped dab away her tears, and against her own conscience reassured her: “The Marquis was in a fit of anger — don’t take his words to heart. In a few days, when the Marquis’s anger has passed, he will see what kind of person Miss truly is!”

Qiao Lianfang shook her head gently, and her gaze showed a touch of bewilderment.

“I remember when I was small, my uncle said our family had no male heir, and he took back all the properties set aside for my father. Though we lived off the common family funds, what was given was never enough for good food and proper dress. My mother feared I would be mocked by the other cousins for dressing poorly, yet there was no extra money to hire a seamstress. She would often pull the window shut with a quilt in the evening, sewing clothes for me by lamplight into the night. Every time I woke in the middle of the night, my mother would smile and coax me back to sleep. I still remember — in the lamplight, my mother’s eyes were soft as the spring breeze, and just looking at her warmed you to the heart…” She recalled these memories, a faint smile crossing her face. “In summer, when the other rooms all had ice to cool them, ours did not. In my ignorance I would fuss and cry that I was hot. My mother would sit up fanning me through the entire night…”

A little maidservant brought in the hot water. Xiuyuan helped her wash her hands and face; she allowed herself to be arranged like a marionette.

“…One time, the eldest cousin came home for a visit, and our aunt brought out imperial-bestowed peach cakes to serve her. When no one was looking, I secretly took one and hid it in my sleeve. The fourth cousin saw me and told our aunt right there in front of the eldest cousin’s household nanny. Our aunt was furious and had a woman servant drag me by the arm all the way to my mother’s side. I was frightened half to death. But my mother threw open her arms and pushed the servant away, pulling me into her embrace. My mother, who had never once argued with our aunt, that one time, for my sake, quarreled with her — and did not relent until our aunt had the servant who dragged me given twenty strokes of the rod.”

Xiuyuan listened, tears trembling on her lashes.

“Miss!” She helped Qiao Lianfang sit at the edge of the bed and settled her in to rest.

Qiao Lianfang lay down quietly.

“Xiuyuan,” she said, her voice light as a whisper of breeze, “do you think this is what the Buddhists call karmic retribution?” She turned her head and looked straight at Xiuyuan. “I was living perfectly well — but then I heard my aunt say that some family’s daughter was fortunate enough to marry the Marquis of Yongping as a second wife, and young as she was, the very least she would receive was a third-rank lady’s title. At the time I thought: not one of my cousins had yet enjoyed such fortune. My heart stirred, I set out on a single path — and followed it all the way to its end…” The light at the corner of her eyes shimmered. “…By the time I looked back, a hundred years of life were already spent.”

“Miss!” Xiuyuan could hold herself back no longer. She bent over the bedside in tears. “It was all the Madam who — she urged you on behind your mother’s back…”

“Urged me!” A faint smile crossed Qiao Lianfang’s face. That smile was as illusory as a mirage on a desert horizon. “It was I who was foolish — how can I blame another for urging me? I forgot my mother who raised me through such hardship; I forgot the proper conduct of a well-born young lady; I thought only of that dream of wealth and grandeur. How can I blame anyone else?”

“At that time, though I envied my cousins for dressing better than I did, I relied on my mother and we had each other — and my heart was peaceful and settled. The scent of camphorwood and jasmine mingled together — deep and at the same time light — would still the heart and quiet the soul…” She closed her eyes and immersed herself in the memory.

She murmured on and on, until at last she drifted into sleep.

Xiuyuan wiped the corner of her eye and tiptoed out of the inner room. She came face to face with Zhurui, who was briskly carrying in a tray of refreshments.

“Oh!” Zhurui said in surprise. “Sister, why are you standing here?” She craned up on her toes to peer toward the door curtain, as though this would somehow let her see through to what lay beyond. “Am I too late? It’s all because of the cook — I spent half a day searching for the osmanthus paste, or the refreshments would have been ready long ago.”

“Never mind,” Xiuyuan said, deflated. “Take those refreshments back and share them among the little maidservants.” She instructed the maidservant standing nearby, “Bring my bedding over — I’m keeping watch tonight.”

Zhurui saw that something was wrong with the scene and her expression changed. She quickly caught Xiuyuan by the sleeve: “What has happened? Can it be that the Marquis…”

Xiuyuan gave a small nod.

She had known it was Qiao Lianfang’s night of waiting service and had therefore specially helped her put up a coquettish fallen-horse bun and changed her into a pink jacket, to make her look all the more charming. Yet the Marquis had only sat there for as long as it takes to drink half a cup of tea before leaving, and had delivered a lengthy lecture of stern reprimands. Thinking of how things had been in former days, and then thinking of what Qiao Lianfang had just said, a dark unease settled in her heart — she felt that her mistress and the Marquis were like two people walking in opposite directions, growing ever further apart…

“The Marquis has gone back to the main rooms,” she said in a low voice.

Her voice carried an undisguisable helplessness and despondency.

“How can this be?” Zhurui was dumbfounded.

The Marquis felt the young mistress was too spoiled and willful, and not as tolerant and kind as the Madam. He had also told the young mistress to learn more from the Madam…

These were words Xiuyuan could not bring herself to say aloud, and she could only smile bitterly at Zhurui: “Go and rest.”

“How can this be?” Zhurui, distressed, spun round and round in agitation. “Madam is younger than our young mistress to begin with, and is blossoming more day by day like a flower growing more open… And then there is Yang Yiniang, newly arrived in the household. Her looks are soft and charming without saying, and she is also clever and adaptable, smooth in all directions — not only has she won Madam round to her completely, but even Wen Yiniang and Qin Yiniang are all smiles with her when they meet…” Her eyes suddenly lit up, as though something had occurred to her. She drew Xiuyuan aside to whisper: “What if we found a way to send word to the Chengguo Mansion? Even if the Marquis won’t look at the monk’s face, he will still look at the Buddha’s — “

“Stop making things worse,” Xiuyuan cut Zhurui off at once. “Ever since Miss’s miscarriage, Lady Qiao has not once even asked after Miss, even when she comes to the Xu household as a guest. She would hardly put herself in opposition to Madam for Miss’s sake.”

Zhurui was silenced.

“This is for the best,” Xiuyuan said, looking down at the polished green stone bricks gleaming smooth as a mirror beneath her feet. “At lowering oneself and submitting, Miss cannot match Qin Yiniang; at reading expressions and sensing moods, Miss cannot match Wen Yiniang; in looks and appearance, Miss cannot match Yang Yiniang… To be able to live quietly and peacefully like this — at least we need not be sent to a place like Dajue Temple again.”

Xu Lingyi swept in, shaking the snow from his black sable cloak.

“It is snowing outside — a great expanse of white, jade buildings and crystal towers. You really should go out to look!”

Snowflakes met the warmth inside and melted into droplets falling on the green stone bricks.

“Oh!” The Eleventh Miss rose and took his black sable cloak, her smile as evenly warm and gracious as always. “When I left Mother’s rooms it was still fine — how did it begin to snow so quickly?”

Xu Lingyi saw her hair loose about her shoulders and gently smoothed the strands that had fallen forward. A faint fragrance of rose hovered at his nostrils: “Washing your hair again in such cold weather.”

The Eleventh Miss smiled and passed the cloak to a little maidservant, instructing the maidservants to bring in water to attend to Xu Lingyi’s washing and grooming: “I washed it and felt much better.”

Wash her hair, and the whole bed smells of rose flower dew.

Xu Lingyi smiled, looking at her with bright, keen eyes; then his hand lightly pinched and turned her smooth, round earlobe before he turned and went into the washroom.

The Eleventh Miss’s face went red as evening clouds in an instant.

Hupo saw this and quickly lowered her eyes and withdrew.

“Sister Hupo, you frightened me!” Wan Daxian’s youngest sister, Sixi, hurried to meet her.

She had been left in the Eleventh Miss’s rooms to serve Hupo.

Hupo let out a breath of relief, and only then became aware that her forehead was damp.

Even a celestial beauty like the Fifth Young Lady had had only a few years of good days. She had only been afraid that the Madam was squandering the prime of her good time — only to end up in her later years with an empty lap and no children…

At this thought, she could not help furrowing her brow.

What was Madam thinking?

Wen Yiniang sat bolt upright with a start.

“Is it true?” Her expression showed an undeniable excitement. “The Marquis has gone back to the main rooms.”

Qiu Hong gave a nod, feeling that Wen Yiniang was utterly different from her usual composure when it came to such matters.

Was it possible that what the young lady constantly said — “the Marquis and I are not kindred spirits” — was all along spoken out of helplessness?

An inner knowing, bright as candlelight, shone in her eyes, making Wen Yiniang somewhat uncomfortable.

She murmured almost to herself: “I haven’t done anything wrong. Just because I don’t suit his taste, I’m treated as though I’ve committed ten unforgivable sins — this many years, he has not let it go. That Qiao Lianfang — first she failed to protect the Marquis’s child; then she talked back to Madam; yet he turned around and forgot it all… We are all concubines alike — what entitles him to treat me one way and others another…” And with that she let out a long, slow breath, a pleased smile crossing her face. “At least now we’re all in the same position — and my heart is at peace.”

Qiu Hong stood there with her mouth agape.

But Wen Yiniang waved a grand hand: “Sleep, sleep!”

And she fell asleep in notably fine spirits.

Qin Yiniang burst out laughing, covering her face with her hands. The muffled laughter — sometimes higher, sometimes lower — sounded in one’s ears rather like the call of an owl, startling Cui’er considerably.

She could not help calling out, puzzled: “My lady.”

It was quite some time before Qin Yiniang’s laughter subsided.

“Nothing, nothing — go to sleep,” she said.

Cui’er, seeing that the depths of her eyes were full of genuine elation, knew this happiness was real, and curtsied in bewilderment before withdrawing.

Qin Yiniang immediately leapt up and darted into the warm alcove.

“Bodhisattva, you have truly granted my heart’s desire!” In her underclothes she knelt on the meditation cushion. “Now that the Marquis no longer shows tenderness to Qiao Lianfang, from now on…” Murmured prayers dissolved into curling wisps of incense smoke.

* * *