The passageway beside the inner ceremonial gate was a lively place. The questioning was divided into three groups: the maids in their teens were all handled by little Cuixiu as questioner and Bissi as recorder; the rest of the staff was divided between two teams — one of Danju and Ruomei, the other of Qinsang and Luzhi. The time spent on each person varied: the younger ones had simpler histories and were done in two or three sentences, while the older ones had a whole stack of stories to tell.
Danju, thinking carefully, had a few folding screens brought out from inside to divide the space, so that when a question touched on personal matters, bystanders would not overhear. For instance, Nanny Hao Da Cheng’s wife from the needlework staff had been married twice over — her first husband had been beaten to death years ago when the household they served was confiscated and raided; while the outer courtyard steward Hao Da Cheng was himself a convicted servant who had lost his first wife. The two widowed souls had found their way to each other, and had even raised children together.
Zhaohui Hall was an imposing and grand space, but Minglan felt rather as though she were standing in the exhibition room of a museum, so she moved instead to the side chamber adjoining Zhaohui Hall to hear Counselor Gongsun’s accounts of the estate. Gongsun Baishi had an air of complete ease, stroking his five-strand long beard in a manner even more refined and composed than Sheng Hong. The stewards and accountants stood below, and when Minglan pointed to a figure in the ledger and asked about it, they all answered in turn — attentive and deferential.
“Thank you for your efforts, Counselor.” Minglan turned and expressed her gratitude. “A man of your distinction, now attending to such trivial matters — I really must apologize for imposing.”
Gongsun Baishi looked at the ledger Minglan’s finger was resting on and smiled with rueful resignation. “I am by nature an unruly and free-spirited man, and none of this is my particular strength. Since the Commander established this household, this old man has truly been suffering.”
Minglan gestured to Xiaotao to bring tea, and smiled: “Counselor need not say that. Even if the Commander himself were to manage all of this in person, things would likely look much the same. As the saying goes: it is using a great cleaver to kill a chicken — and as a rule, when one actually does use a great cleaver on a chicken, the chicken rarely comes out well done.”
Gongsun Baishi’s lips curved, and he laughed in spite of himself: “Well said!”
In the course of their conversation, he found that Minglan’s manner of speaking was elegant and clear-minded, and her thinking lively and strikingly original. He found her rather interesting — yet given the difference between men and women, and the fact that he was not a formally contracted member of the Gu household, he did not linger long. Before leaving, he sent a young manservant to escort Minglan to the inner study.
“I am called Gu Quan; please call me Xiao Quan, Madam.” Gu Quan was fourteen, with a round face and small bright eyes; when he smiled, he had a thoroughly capable and quick-witted look about him. He walked slightly ahead and to the side, leading Minglan along while talking cheerfully: “…The master is Xiao Quan’s savior — my second life. In those days Xiao Quan was begging on the streets; if not for the master, there’d have been nothing left of me but bones.”
Minglan very much wanted to say — not necessarily; you might have made your way up to become a gang boss, for all anyone knows.
Following the east-west passageway outside Zhaohui Hall and passing through a flower-screen gate lush with trailing greenery, Minglan arrived at the entrance of the inner study. The space had been opened up to run continuously across two large rooms, with antechambers on left and right, and two small heated rooms and side verandas front and back, all for use as resting space. Minglan nodded quietly to herself — if she and Gu Tingye ever quarreled in the future, this would be a perfectly reasonable place to retreat to and sleep in stubborn defiance.
She stepped inside. Before her she saw a writing desk, a painting table, a zither stand, and an offering table, all complete and arranged; the six south-facing windows were bright and clean, evidently just swept. On the floor stood two enormous chests bound with iron-cornered elm wood. The four-sided shelves built against the walls stood entirely empty. Minglan walked around and took it all in, then suppressed a wry smile and called to Gu Quan to open the chests. She had everything inside — stack after stack of books — taken out, and then, following the model of Chang Ge’er’s study, arranged them loosely by category. With Minglan directing, Xiaotao and Gu Quan worked up a sweat hauling the books onto the shelves one by one.
Running her fingertips over the brand-new book covers — The Analects, The Great Learning, The Doctrine of the Mean, Mencius, Huainanzi… the study was very thoroughly equipped. Minglan was also pleasantly surprised to discover several rare editions. But judging from the dust accumulated on top of them, every single book in the collection served exactly one purpose: to furnish the room with the appearance of scholarship. So she need not trouble herself rethinking how to organize the shelves. Still, leaving so many empty spaces would look odd; better to go out later and hunt for some interesting unofficial histories and miscellaneous volumes — that would be more genuinely useful.
With the shelves arranged, Minglan moved on to organize the writing desk. A purple inkstone from Huzhou, ink sticks of cloud-and-smoke from southern Jiangsu, a white jade brush-washer painted with water-ink motifs from Qionglin, an entire matching set of brushes from large strokes down to fine details in purple rhinoceros-bristle — to one side of the desk, stacks of pristine fine white Yan paper and gold-foil-dusted letter paper. Minglan arranged each piece herself, one by one, all the while sighing privately: fresh young flower, oh — why do you devote yourself to such unworthy soil?
When the study was done, Minglan had just returned to her rooms to rest her aching back and legs when Gu Shun — the other young manservant who attended closely to Gu Tingye — came galloping back on horseback to report: Gu Tingye would not be returning for the midday meal; Minglan should eat on her own. Minglan did not particularly mind. In truth, other than giving birth, most things in life a woman could manage quite well on her own; eating lunch by herself had no effect on her appetite whatsoever.
But as a dutiful wife, Minglan still asked a few perfunctory questions in the spirit of the role: “Where will the master be eating, then?”
Gu Shun wiped his face with his sleeve, still catching his breath, and reported: “Today’s court session was apparently very eventful — it went on until the last quarter of the hour of Si before it finally adjourned. The moment court ended, the Emperor called the master and several other generals into the palace to confer, and said that the noon meal would be served to them there as well.”
Minglan gave a soft sound of acknowledgment, and her expression did not change. Noticing that Gu Shun looked thoroughly worn out, she had Xiaotao wring out a cool wet cloth for him to wipe his face. Xiaotao, never one to do only the minimum, also poured him a bowl of tea.
Gu Shun downed the tea in one gulp, caught his breath, thanked her, and then, noticing that Minglan’s expression seemed a little melancholy, added: “Madam need not worry. This has happened often before — sometimes it is the Emperor who summons him, and sometimes another general or official who brings him along.”
Minglan was only a little tired; it was not dissatisfaction. At his words, she smiled: “Look how tired you are. If this sort of thing keeps happening, won’t you be exhausted at this rate? You still have to go back and attend on the master.”
“Madam, please don’t say such things!” Gu Shun’s voice boomed out, his face alight with feeling. “Xiao Shun’s life was given to him by the master. What does it matter whether I’m tired? So long as the master and Madam give one word, Xiao Shun would run his legs off and not make a sound!”
Minglan smiled: “Well, keep hold of those legs. Xiaotao — quick, bring Xiao Shun some fruit and grab him a handful of coins for sweets.”
Xiaotao hurried inside and came out with a full plain white porcelain dish piled with golden sweet jujubes in one hand and a fistful of copper coins in the other, tipping both straight into Gu Shun’s pockets all at once. Gu Shun thanked her with a wide smile and went on his way.
Danju had the good sense to question the kitchen staff first, finishing with them early and sending them straight back to light the stoves, so lunchtime was not delayed. Minglan sat before a table of dishes and said quietly: “Tell Ruomei and the others to eat first as well — let them rest a moment. There’s no hurry; we can resume questioning in the afternoon.”
Xiaotao had rolled her sleeves neatly back to the elbow, and as she ladled Minglan’s rice and soup and arranged her dishes, she said: “Don’t worry, miss — that Luzhi one is sharp as a tack. She won’t let herself go hungry.”
Beside them, Caihuan also smiled: “Madam need not worry. Just now I had a young maid go and check, and they say the kitchen aunties personally carried the food over in bamboo steamers.”
Minglan picked up her chopsticks with a smile: “You’re quick-thinking, aren’t you.”
Caihuan looked a little embarrassed: “I’ve only just arrived, and I don’t know the routines here yet — I can only watch and follow along as best I can. I hope Madam won’t find me troublesome.”
Minglan carefully swallowed a piece of fish and smiled: “No rush; just take it gradually. As the saying goes — time reveals a horse’s true strength, and days reveal a person’s true heart.”
Caihuan smiled with deferential warmth, and added: “In the old days, everyone always said that among all the young ladies, Madam was the most outstanding — perceptive, wise, and skilled at knowing and using people well. The maids and sisters in the courtyard were always the most settled and well-ordered.”
Minglan set down her chopsticks and picked up the soup spoon for a light sip, throwing a sidelong glance at Caihuan. She smiled faintly: “Conduct and skill — as long as a person isn’t so foolish that there’s no helping them, and is genuinely willing to learn, they can always be cultivated given time. What matters most is the bond of feeling. Those other girls have been with me for nearly ten years; naturally I feel closer to them. I know you are good — we will just spend more time together. All right — you go have your meal too. This afternoon, have Xiaotao mind the door, and you come with me to take a look around out front.”
Caihuan’s face brightened at once, and she went out in good spirits.
After Caihuan had gone, Minglan set down her soup spoon, and after a moment’s quiet thought, said in a low voice: “…What do you think of her?”
“Talks a lot. Nosy.” Xiaotao wrinkled her nose. “But her needlework is quite fine, and she’s diligent — always rushing to do things before anyone else can.”
Minglan poked at her rice with her chopsticks: “Being nosy is understandable — when you’re newly arrived, you always want to know more. The worry is just…” She paused. “Never mind, we mustn’t see danger in every shadow. Xiaotao — just remember not to let her into my room. There’s plenty of work to do outside; that will keep her occupied.”
Xiaotao answered with a serious nod: “If she’s smart, she won’t go overstepping. And if she does well, you won’t treat her badly.”
“Let’s hope so…” Minglan said without much confidence — the occupational hazard of someone who had spent her life closely observing human behavior.
After lunch, Minglan felt her way to her spare little frame and decided that the most sensible thing would be to get a proper nap in and gain some weight — stamina in that particular department would only benefit her going forward. So she yawned her way under the bedding.
As she lay drifting in and out of drowsiness, her mind turned over everything she had read and thought through these past two days.
In the capital, where even rice and firewood were extravagantly priced, the Sheng household had: after Hai Shi’s arrival as mistress, come to hold ten family members in the main line, as well as three Yiniangs, four personal serving-women, totaling seventeen in the family proper. Below that, including maids, servant women, laborers, stewards, and staff, came fifty-eight people. After Hai Shi gradually took hold of household management — and Minglan had often gone to help her keep an eye on Quan Ge’er and caught the odd word here and there — she knew that a household like theirs, accounting for ordinary social obligations throughout the year, ran to roughly four thousand taels annually.
Wang Shi had been sharp; Hai Shi was frugal. The household finances were quite well in hand, with enough to spare. Factoring in the income from the farmland and shops, along with the family’s portion from the old home in Youyang, they put aside a good amount each year for the future marriages of the grandchildren.
And her own new household? Gu Tingye held the rank of a second-grade official; his annual salary was one hundred and fifty taels of silver and sixty-one shi of rice rations. The ration rice was the kind of old grain that even the Sheng household’s servants would not touch, and was typically exchanged at the rice shop for coin. As a military officer, he also received military supplemental provisions of two hundred and twenty taels a year, making his official income, all told, around five hundred taels. And in keeping with custom, there ought to be ice-gifts in summer and coal-gifts in winter as well.
The farmland registers currently in Minglan’s hands showed that Gu Tingye held two farming estates in the Yan Mao River area east of the capital — one called Black Mountain Estate with over eighty hectares of good arable land, and another called Ancient Rock Estate with over a hundred hectares. The Emperor had also bestowed upon him half a hillside in the Western Hills outside the capital, with a hot-spring estate on it. All of this together, the expected annual yield came to roughly five thousand taels.
A note to self: there appeared to be no commercial enterprises as yet.
The other day when Minglan had asked Gu Tingye what the household’s monthly expenditure was, he hadn’t been able to produce a clear figure. He only said that aside from these fixed assets, which were Minglan’s to manage as she saw fit, he had put fifty thousand taels of silver in the account room. He told her to spend from that for now, and to come to him if it wasn’t enough.
To go from a Yiniang-born daughter receiving an allowance of only one and a half taels a month — to suddenly having the run of this much wealth — Minglan felt unexpectedly as though she had landed herself a very wealthy patron. She had half a mind to order herself a bowl of bird’s nest congee every single day: eat one bowl, admire another, and tip out the third.
The household had so few people — how could they possibly go through all that? Minglan reminded herself repeatedly that she had only the right of use over this money, not ownership; she must not spend it carelessly… Although — might she perhaps set aside just a little, a very little, for management fees?
Minglan was disgusted with herself. It appeared she had a natural aptitude for embezzlement.
Gu Tingye and Minglan, along with Rong Jie’er, made three proper household members. There were also two Yiniangs, and the young lady Fengxian. Going by the Ningyuan Marquis’s household’s established allowances, Minglan was entitled to the level of “Madam” — a monthly allowance of ten taels (a twenty-fold increase from her pre-marriage wages). Future young mistresses — Minglan’s future daughters-in-law — would receive twenty taels; Rong Jie’er and the Yiniangs each received two taels.
The thorny issue was the young lady Fengxian. If she counted as a personal maid, her monthly allowance would be one tael. But Gu Tingye had given no indication of making any arrangement about her, and when Minglan had raised the matter that day, he had actually been briefly blank — and when he was reminded, his expression had darkened considerably.
Minglan had later quietly asked Xia He and learned that the young lady Fengxian was originally from the family of a convicted official, confiscated into the Imperial Music Academy. Because she was still an untouched young woman, she had been brought in about half a year ago by General Gan and presented to Gu Tingye’s household — apparently through proper legal channels.
At first, this young lady — allegedly proficient in the four arts of the literati — had endured being forgotten by Gu Tingye for seven or eight days, and then at last could no longer restrain herself. One evening she played “Clear Water Flowing Over Jade” for half the night straight. Unfortunately, high art meets a man of no refinement: Gu Tingye had grown up learning to brawl in the streets, excelling in hand-to-hand combat and battlefield tactics; his cultivation in the polite arts was poor — Minglan privately thought that if she had been singing something rather more popular and suggestive, Gu Tingye might at least have clapped along to the beat. But weary as he was from earlier that day, he was woken from sleep in the middle of the night by the din, and his fury redoubled. He kicked through two panels of the door, and his bellowing roar could reportedly be heard half a li away.
The very next morning, Gu Tingye had her moved to the most remote corner of the western edge of the estate.
About a month later, the young lady Fengxian finally came to understand that for men, perhaps the visual sense was more direct and important than the auditory. So one evening, dressed in white robes, gauze-thin and barely covering her, she came in person to deliver a night-time refreshment. Her luck was terrible: she did not encounter Gu Tingye sitting up by candlelight attending to affairs, but instead stumbled upon Nanny Chang, who happened to be tidying the rooms inside.
The standards of decorum one could expect from a salt merchant’s wet nurse were not high. Nanny Chang had a quick temper and a caustic tongue — it was said she had operated a pig-slaughtering business in her younger years. She proceeded to deliver a volley of cold mockery and cutting remarks that went from the girl’s ancestors eighteen generations back all the way to her descendants eighteen generations forward, with a vivid and detailed comparison of the young lady’s skill set to that of a common entertainer from a pleasure house — all delivered in front of an audience of the entire household’s servants, who gathered to watch and snicker.
Even when Nanny Chang had exhausted herself with the scolding, she still felt it hadn’t quite satisfied her, so she chased the girl all the way back to the Jingfei Pavilion to continue. At that point the young lady Fengxian was completely defeated — humiliated beyond all bearing, she wept herself nearly to the point of attempting to hang herself. In the end she did not; presumably, having survived the Imperial Music Academy, her nerves were strong enough. Minglan suspected that it was because of this that she had renamed her quarters “Lingding Pavilion” — which meant “Solitary and Forlorn.”
Minglan strongly suspected that Nanny Chang had acted under Gu Tingye’s instructions. That fellow had spent his life running with the lower strata of society and knew all seventy-two tricks of the trade; his thinking was far more devious and calculated than the average scion of a great household. A “gift” from a respected senior official — you couldn’t beat her away and you couldn’t drive her out. So, in characteristic fashion, he had turned to the method of using one poison against another: find an old nanny of high seniority and advanced age to make the young woman’s life so humiliating she would not dare show her face outside.
After that, the young lady Fengxian had indeed largely stopped going out, and half a year had passed in that state.
What on earth should she give the woman as a monthly allowance? The more Minglan thought, the heavier her head grew, and before long she had sunk into deep sleep. The sun shifted slowly westward; the afternoon warmth settled in around her; and how long she slept Minglan could not say — only that she was woken in the end by Xiaotao shaking her.
“What is it?” Minglan’s eyes were still narrowed to slits. She opened them just enough to squint — the noon hour was well past.
But Xiaotao’s face was full of excitement. She leaned down to Minglan’s ear and said in a low voice: “The Fifth Master’s wife is here!”
“So soon?” Minglan’s eyes flew open, suddenly wide awake. “Just her alone?”
“And her two daughters-in-law — Nanny Gu Tingyang’s wife, and Second Young Mistress Gu Tingdi’s wife.” Xiaotao bent close, whispering with a gleeful grin. “Miss predicted it exactly right! I had a few of the gatekeepers watching, and someone did go out — it was that Diao household, all right!”
Minglan sat up in bed, let out a quiet sigh. “When you live this close by, how could she not come visiting?” She had worked it out — no matter how hard you work, you really are owed a management fee.
…