Some months later, when Minglan was reunited with Sheng Hong’s household in the capital, someone asked her what sort of person He Hongwen was.
After thinking it over for quite a long while, she answered: a good person.
The He family was of distinguished lineage. He Hongwen’s great-grandfather had founded the Baishi Pond Academy, leading the scholarly world and the intellectual circles of the court for decades. Though the later generations had not matched the founder’s prominence, they lived in very comfortable prosperity. He’s Grandmother had married into a branch of the He family. Her third son had died young, leaving He Hongwen as his only child — a boy particularly cherished by his grandparents.
He Hongwen had been studying medicine since childhood. Not long after the boat set out, he brewed Minglan a soothing herbal tea for her stomach. It was bitter, but effective — after just one dose Minglan felt considerably better. Even so, she was of the firm belief that building one’s own resistance was the right approach, so she refused to drink any more. Not wanting to seem ungrateful for the gesture, she simply disposed of it quietly when no one was looking.
One day He Hongwen came to check on Minglan and asked in passing: “Was the herbal tea I sent over taken?”
Minglan, face perfectly composed: “Just finished it.”
At precisely that moment, Xiaotao came in from outside, carrying a cup and murmuring: “Young miss, no one saw…” She caught sight of He Hongwen and bit off the rest of her words.
Minglan followed He Hongwen’s gaze — the white porcelain bowl with the floating lotus design still bore faint smears of the unmistakably familiar green herb residue. He Hongwen turned back to look at Minglan with quiet composure. Minglan suppressed her guilt with great effort and said with perfect steadiness: “Xiaotao — what took you so long to wash a cup?” Xiaotao, at a loss, could only say: “The cup… was very hard to wash.”
Minglan’s scalp prickled as she forced a dry laugh: “Yes — very hard to wash. Quite.”
He Hongwen behaved as if nothing had happened, smiled pleasantly, and said: “Life aboard a boat does have certain inconveniences compared to living on land.”
Minglan: …=_= A Danju stood nearby attending her, cheeks not quite thick enough for the occasion, and quietly turned her face away.
The following day, He Hongwen sent a full double portion — a large bowl of herbal tea. Minglan, in He Hongwen’s presence, lifted the bowl with heroic composure, tilted her head back, and drank the entire cup of herbal tea down in one long determined gulp — then held the empty bottom of the bowl up high for He Hongwen to inspect.
He Hongwen smiled and nodded his head in approval, precisely as a teacher might commend a pupil who had just finished copying out lines.
Strictly speaking, He Hongwen was the first young man Minglan had ever had real contact with in this era. Their two grandmothers had found each other as kindred spirits and spent most of their time tucked away in the cabin catching up on decades of unspoken things. Watched over by a retinue of matrons and young maids, Minglan and He Hongwen came face to face on quite a few occasions.
As was customary for young men and women meeting for the first time in ancient times, the conversation naturally began in a prescribed fashion: “Little Ming younger sister — what books have you read so far?”
This sounded familiar. Minglan remembered a passage from “Lin Daiyu Enters the Jia Household” — a text her teacher had required her to memorize in secondary school — and followed the classic standard response from the old matriarch, demurely covering her sleeve and replying: “I have only learned enough characters not to be illiterate. That is all.”
She finished speaking with what she felt was a perfectly refined and well-bred air.
He Hongwen raised one eyebrow, neither agreeing nor disagreeing — and turned his eyes to the right, where they came to rest on a stack of practice writing paper on the desk, covered densely in ink. Clearly quite a lot of writing had been done. Minglan felt awkward and added: “I have only just begun reading the Women’s Virtues and the Classic of Filial Piety.”
He Hongwen still said nothing, and turned his eyes to the left — where the bookshelves were stacked haphazardly with several well-thumbed volumes. The spines were open, the pages well-turned: divination and astrology, medicine and astronomy, geography — all the miscellaneous texts Minglan had convinced Changbai and Changdong to get for her.
Caught again. Minglan forced a smile and said with some effort: “…These were asked for by my brother at home, to be delivered to a cousin.”
He Hongwen nodded with every appearance of perfect understanding. He smiled: “Your elder brother truly has broad interests.”
Minglan’s mouth twitched. Text-bound Changbai, ledger-absorbed Changson — and poor Changwu, who went dizzy at the sight of words — please forgive her!
The most admirable thing about He Hongwen was that even when he caught Minglan out in the act, he could somehow manage to sincerely pretend to believe her. Every impossible excuse was accepted with every indication of complete conviction. Since he was so obliging about it, Minglan felt she had no business keeping up the performance, and stopped doing so.
As they drew nearer to Jinling, the air gradually grew warmer. When she had first come north to Dengzhou all those years ago, Minglan had just barely arrived in this era, fragile and exhausted and at the lowest point of her life — she’d had no heart for scenery. Now she found herself with a very different spirit. The riverside landscape was growing more refined and gentle by degrees. Minglan sat at the window watching the shores slip by — the boats busy with the canal trade, the whole picture of life on the water. He Hongwen, who had made this journey north and south many times, pointed things out and explained them with a ready smile.
“Big white bird — big-beaked bird… bag ship!” Minglan stared and pointed, her vocabulary running somewhat dry.
He Hongwen smiled and explained: “That is a cormorant — it is expert at catching fish. …That is a sandpiper… no, wait — that is actually a grain transport vessel…”
Minglan was cheerful and lively; He Hongwen was measured and composed. They got on very well.
“…My mother wishes I would sit for the imperial examinations and enter officialdom. I am afraid I have not lived up to her hopes — I only care for herbal medicine and acupuncture,” He Hongwen said, with a slight color of embarrassment.
“He Brother is being too hard on himself. Reading the works of the sages is ultimately for two purposes: to serve as minister to a wise emperor and bring order to the world, or to honor one’s ancestors and carry blessings to one’s descendants. But at the root of all things — healing the world is just as worthy a path, and just as capable of benefiting the common people and glorifying one’s family name. Brother’s grandmother’s father — what was his medical art and medical virtue? In his youth he went himself into plague-stricken regions to save lives and ease suffering. In his later years he headed the Imperial Medical Bureau and issued medical codes and standards. How greatly the world respected him!” Minglan was entirely sincere. Medicine truly was a noble profession — and when you did it well, the income was also quite good.
He Hongwen’s eyes brightened. He looked at the girl across from him, smiling quietly.
“My father died young. My mother is not in good health. I am unable to follow my mother’s wishes and pursue classical learning — it is a true failure of filial duty,” He Hongwen said. The melancholy that enveloped him was like a gossamer veil draped over the autumn colors.
Minglan spread out her small, pale hands — the needle-marks of practice embroidery visible across them: “I have never liked embroidery. Grandmother hired several teachers to instruct me, and even now the butterflies I embroider still look more like houseflies. That too, I suppose, is a failure of filial duty.”
He Hongwen smiled: “Younger sister is still young — with time and practice, it will come. My cousin Jing’er is particularly skilled at embroidery — but that too was built through daily practice.” Minglan touched her fingers absently and asked: “Oh? Does she also live in Jinling?”
He Hongwen’s expression dimmed: “No… a few years ago, her father was implicated in the Xiao Liangshan Mining Case, and the whole family was exiled to Liangzhou.”
Minglan fell quiet. Several years ago, a tunnel in the Xiao Liangshan mine had collapsed, killing more than a hundred miners. The mine owner colluded with local officials to pocket the compensation funds, and then went so far as to have the widows and orphans of the dead men locked up and charged with crimes — very nearly inciting a riot and a full-scale uprising.
When the Emperor learned of it, his fury was extreme. He knew, of course, that this was merely the fallout of the succession struggle — but all he could do was punish the ringleaders and let the matter rest there. Those who had been involved at lower levels were dealt with leniently — a great show with a soft hand. As a result, not many officials were actually entangled in the case. That his cousin’s family should have ended up among that small number of casualties was an unexpected blow.
“…Well, since it was exile rather than execution, the crime can’t have been too grave — the most serious offenses end in beheading. And there are general pardons when a new emperor ascends — as long as the crime isn’t among the most unforgivable, most exiles do get their sentences lifted. And everyone knows the old Emperor’s days are numbered.” Minglan could only offer comfort in that direction. Word was common throughout the realm that the old Emperor’s time was running short.
He Hongwen was genuinely grateful for Minglan’s goodwill. After a moment, he said: “My uncle-in-law did bear some responsibility for what happened. When one has erred, punishment is just — it was not a wrongful verdict. It would only be a good thing if he could be pardoned.” A pause, and then: “I have a snow-lily cream of my own making here — let me give it to Little Ming younger sister for her hands. In winter, when doing needlework, the fingers stiffen — applying it helps the blood flow and the joints move freely.”
The young man’s voice was gentle, his gaze warm and unhurried — like the last faint wash of pale gold sunlight at the end of autumn, slowly climbing up Minglan’s cheek and making it feel, somehow, a little warm.
Another five or six days on the water, and at last the boat drew in to dock. On the pier stood a crowd of manservants and stewards, all craning their necks in this direction. Half were from Sheng Wei’s household, come to meet Minglan and her party and take them on to Youyang. The other half wore expressions of grief — they were there to meet He’s Grandmother and take her directly to her Jinling family home, where her elderly father had fallen gravely ill.
He’s Grandmother held Grandmother Sheng’s hand for a long time before she could bring herself to let go. He Hongwen turned to Minglan with earnest advice: “Ming younger sister, take care of yourself. Long travel by carriage and boat is the quickest way to fall ill. When you arrive, rest properly for a few days before going out to play.”
Minglan nodded vigorously.
Sheng Wei and his eldest son Changson had come in person to meet the boat. This was Minglan’s first time seeing her elder cousin. She observed a man with slightly dark skin, thick brows and large eyes, a loud voice, and an open and hearty bearing — looking very much like Changwu. The moment he laid eyes on Minglan he laughed: “This must be Sixth Younger Sister Minglan, yes? Father has mentioned you so often in front of my sister Pin’lan — she’s been clamouring to meet you for years now!”
“Younger Sister Ming hasn’t been to Youyang before, has she? It’s a wonderful place — the Sheng family’s old ancestral home and clan hall are there, and it’s only one hour by carriage to Jinling. I’ll take you and Pin’lan out to have a look around when you’re ready!”
“Jinling has too many grand people of rank — we merchants don’t need to wade into all that. Better to stay in the old home — there’s plenty of space, and the scenery is fine. Ming younger sister likes to fish, doesn’t she? I’ll have fishing gear set up for you — the fish pond goes on for tens of li — you could prod the water with a fishing rod and hit something!”
“The mountain forests in autumn are the finest thing — try to go before winter sets in. The maple trees stretch over the whole hillside — different from what you see in the capital. Less refined, but wilder and freer.” …
The day was clear and warm, the autumn breeze pleasant and cool — even sitting inside the sedan chair, one did not feel stifled. Sheng Wei spoke with Grandmother Sheng, while Elder Brother Changson rode alongside on horseback, chatting all the while to help Minglan pass the time. Minglan felt the giddy delight of a child being taken on an outing.
The Sheng family bore the name “Sheng” — meaning “flourishing” — but in truth they had started with almost nothing, and had in fact been rather better described by the word’s near-homophone meaning “leftover.” It was not until Sheng’s Great-Grandfather seized the opportunity of a dynastic transition to make his fortune, aligning himself with a few powerful officials and pursuing the path of merchants working hand-in-hand with officialdom, that the family gradually prospered. They built an ancestral hall, raised a clan shrine, and erected a grand residence in the family’s home county of Youyang. Merchants of newly minted wealth tend to pursue cultural prestige, and the very first thing Great-Grandfather did after establishing himself was to pay handsomely for a wife from a declining scholarly official family, and with her, three sons were born.
The eldest inherited the family business but was given to pleasure and excess — he fell into infatuation with a concubine of stage-performer origins, creating a scandalous household situation of the favored concubine overriding the principal wife. By the time of his death, the family property was said to have been nearly all squandered away. The second son was Minglan’s grandfather — the elegant, stylish, brilliant Tanhua Scholar who met a spirited daughter of a Marquessate household. Husband and wife became nearly like enemies. He died of a chill before reaching thirty. The third son was the most exceptional of all — a man of gambling, drinking, and debauchery, who somehow managed to go on living to this very day.
Minglan sighed deeply: the experiment in improving the bloodline had failed. Complete rout on all fronts.
Advance runners had already gone ahead to announce their arrival at the old residence. By the time Minglan’s party arrived, the main gates of the Sheng family home were thrown wide open, with a row of women in bright and well-appointed clothes standing at the entrance. Seeing Grandmother Sheng and Minglan step out of the sedan chair, the first among them — a round-faced middle-aged woman — went forward and bowed low before Grandmother Sheng, smiling: “Aunt has finally come! Our old madam has been waiting and watching until her neck has grown long. All these years without seeing Aunt — now seeing Aunt in such fine health and spirits, this niece-in-law is happier than anything!”
As she spoke, she caught sight of a bright-eyed, pretty little girl standing just behind Grandmother Sheng, and asked tentatively: “This must be my niece?” Grandmother Sheng smiled warmly: “This little monkey — I’ve raised her myself. She’ll be good company for Pin’lan.”
Then she glanced at Minglan.
Minglan immediately stepped forward, standing neatly before the woman, and curtsied with quiet propriety: “This is Minglan paying her respects to Eldest Aunt. May Eldest Aunt be in good health.”
Li Shi’s eyes crinkled into a smile. She kept saying: “Good, good, good — what a fine child.” She reached out and gently touched Minglan’s face, and her eyes held a warmly approving light: “What a beautiful child, and so well-mannered. Do stay a good long while — and teach your cousin Pin’lan something of it, that wild pony with no reins on her.” Then she pointed to a young woman standing beside her: “This is your elder cousin-in-law. Anything you need during your stay — just let her know.”
Minglan curtsied again at once: “Elder Cousin-in-law, good day.”
Wen Shi immediately took Minglan’s arm and helped her up, saying gently: “No need for ceremony, younger sister. Once you’ve paid your respects to Great-Grandmother, come and see the room we’ve prepared for you — if it doesn’t suit you, we’ll change it immediately. This is your own family home — please, don’t stand on ceremony.”
Li Shi, with her air of prosperous dignity and warm authority, was already leading Grandmother Sheng and the others inside as she spoke. They passed through the second gate and past the tea room and gatehouse, along the covered walkway into the inner household, around the decorative screen wall, and into the main hall where the eldest branch’s Great-Grandmother lived. Minglan entered and saw an elderly woman seated in the center of the room — her hair entirely silver, her frame thin and spare, but her eyes clear and bright. The moment she saw Grandmother Sheng she rose to her feet, reaching out both arms to steady herself.
Grandmother Sheng walked quickly toward her: “Elder Sister-in-law.”
Great-Grandmother took her hand warmly: “Younger sister-in-law — so many years. You have not been well, and with Hongjie taking you all over the country on his postings, I did not want to add to your burdens by calling on you constantly. I only hoped I might see you again while I still had time. Today, to have this wish fulfilled — it is truly the grace of the Buddha.”
Her voice caught as she said it. Grandmother Sheng was moved, and exchanged a few warm words in return, then called Minglan to come forward and pay her respects. Great-Grandmother took Minglan’s hands and looked her over carefully, nodding with approval: “This child is lovely — a pretty face and a lucky one.”
This was the second time today someone had praised her for being beautiful. Minglan made a considerable effort not to reach up and touch her own face. She was only twelve — how remarkably beautiful could she be at that age? It was likely just the courteous talk of relatives meeting for the first time — it would hardly do to greet someone’s child by saying, “My, your child does look rather like a squash.”
The ever-forthright Changwu was acting a bit out of character today. From the moment Minglan had come in and offered him her congratulations, he had behaved like a lobster dropped into boiling water — unable to meet anyone’s eyes, fidgeting and blushing as he offered a few words to Grandmother Sheng and then stood stiffly to one side, cultivating the refined composure of a new bridegroom with his face down and his cheeks red.
As Grandmother Sheng and Great-Grandmother talked, Li Shi drew Minglan over to a girl of about the same age standing nearby, and said: “This is your cousin sister Pin’lan. You two are the same age, after all.”
Minglan looked at the girl: a round face, large eyes, a look rather like Li Shi’s, and a pair of spirited, upright brows that gave her whole face a bright and lively energy. The girl was looking at Minglan at the same moment. Their eyes met. Minglan smiled warmly: “Pin’lan Elder Sister, hello.”
The girl’s eyes lit up at once, and she replied: “Minglan Younger Sister, hello.”
Then she sneaked a glance at her mother, saw that Li Shi had gone to attend to the two grandmothers, and gave Minglan one large, deliberate wink with her left eye. Minglan startled, quickly scanned the room in all directions, then — playful impulse rising — winked back with equal deliberateness, and in the next instant schooled her face into its most perfectly well-behaved and docile expression.
Pin’lan’s eyes went wide, and her large eyes brimmed over with laughter.
Author’s note:
A great many readers have been speculating about the title and cover of this novel.
The title comes from a line by Li Qingzhao. At the time, the great poetess had presumably had too much to drink the night before — no mother-in-law requiring an early morning greeting, no need to rise early — so she slept in, and by morning the wine had not yet cleared. Half-asleep, she asked her maid a vague question, and her maid gave her a vague answer.
In just a few brief lines, she paints the leisurely and carefree life of a noblewoman in ancient times. I love that quality very much — at ease, languid, unhurried. I hope Minglan’s life can be something like that, too.
As for the cover — many readers have said it looks strange. But surely you can all see it, can’t you? Really? Truly?
— That girl is sleeping in! An already-married woman in ancient times who actively sleeps in is a rarity — and that is precisely the kind of leisurely, free life this story is about!