As late summer gave way to autumn, the north was nothing like the south; the air grew gradually dry and cool. The Sheng household could not avoid brewing sweet soups and tonics to moisten the lungs and soothe coughs. Minglan had been ill for much of the time since arriving, and with this change of season she became even weaker: frequent dry coughing and shortness of breath. The doctor who came to examine her prescribed only restorative medicines, but Minglan had a deep and abiding loathing for the smell of traditional medicinal decoctions. She longed desperately for her fritillary-and-loquat syrup and her cough and asthma tablets; the more she wished for them, the more she resisted the medicine. She would manage to swallow a bowl and then cough up half of it, and she spent her days listless and ailing, unable to summon a trace of energy. Minglan — whose constitution in her previous life had been robust and who had even practiced self-defense — was fit to burst with frustration.
Sheng Hong and Wang Shi had continued to weigh their options and make enquiries from all sides about Yuan Shao’s character and capabilities, and ultimately settled on him. The betrothal formalities duly went forward: the formal gift of the proposal was made, Hualan’s birth date and hour were presented for the naming inquiry, and in a move Wang Shi considered perfectly logical, she arranged for both a virtuous Buddhist monk and a capable Taoist priest to consult on the compatibility of the eight characters. When both the monk and the Taoist agreed that the two parties shared an auspicious pairing, Wang Shi was finally at ease. Sheng Hong, walking into Wang Shi’s chamber and finding a whisk on the left side of the incense stand and a wooden fish on the right, could not help smiling: “What is it to be — Buddhism or Taoism? Make up your mind and direct your prayers properly; the deity is more likely to listen if you pick one.”
Wang Shi knew he was teasing her: “Whichever one is more efficacious, that is the one I worship. As long as Hua’er is well, I would even bow to the roots of the grass in the courtyard.”
Sheng Hong’s expression became more serious: “I know your heart is good, and that this comes from a kind place. I have been noticing lately that Minglan is not doing well — you should keep a closer eye on her, too. If she keeps coughing like this, she may not survive it.”
Wang Shi replied: “A letter came from the capital yesterday — Zhong’qin Earl’s household will be arriving within the next few days to formalize the small betrothal. Hua’er saw that I was rushed off my feet and took Minglan’s affairs upon herself.”
Sheng Hong shook his head: “Hua’er is only a child — what does she know? You ought to see to it yourself to be safe.”
Wang Shi smiled: “What do you mean, only a child? Where has Hua’er gone as a child — if all goes smoothly, she’ll be getting married by the end of next year or the beginning of the year after. She’ll soon have her in-laws and husband to attend to; it is time she learned to look after others. These past few days she’s been giving her own serving of snow pear broth and almond soup to Minglan, and every day she plants herself there glaring at Minglan until the medicine is swallowed. If she so much as spits up half a bowl, Hua’er refills it immediately. Minglan is so frightened now she doesn’t dare spit out any medicine at all.”
Sheng Hong felt his heart warm considerably, nodding repeatedly: “Very good, very good — this is exactly how sisters ought to be. Hua’er is showing the bearing of a proper eldest sister. Very good indeed.”
Eldest Young Miss Hualan’s approach to everything was precise and uncompromising — thoroughness over warmth, authority over tenderness. The moment Minglan showed the slightest reluctance to take her medicine, Hualan would all but roll up her sleeves and come to administer it herself by force. Minglan was so alarmed that she broke out in a sweat — and accordingly recovered from about half her illness on the spot. Hualan then seized upon her and made her kick a shuttlecock every single day. Minglan was marched around like a prisoner under guard, shuttlecock-kicking in the courtyard under Hualan’s supervision: ten kicks per day to start with, increasing by five every day after that. Eldest Young Miss Hualan even procured a notebook to serve as Minglan’s exercise journal and, wearing the expression of a prison warden, checked off each day’s count — not a single kick could be missed.
Hualan was the quintessential eldest sister type, her soul overflowing with the impulse to guide and look after younger siblings. Unfortunately, none of her full siblings had ever provided an outlet for this. Changbai’s nature was so steady and seasoned that if anything, Hualan risked being the one lectured by him; Rulan was headstrong and contrary, practically ungovernable, and the two of them had never gotten along — say one thing to Rulan and you’d receive three things back, and with Wang Shi always taking Rulan’s side, Hualan could never truly discipline her. Lin Yiniang’s two children were beneath her notice; little Changdong was too young. So she had never really had an opportunity to play the imposing elder sister.
Minglan, by contrast, was of mild and easy temperament, obedient to whatever she was asked to do, and she would not argue back at even the sharpest word — she would only look up at you with those timid, wide, dewy eyes and occasionally drift off into a small daze. Hualan was very satisfied with this little sister, and found she was quite fond of her — perhaps even more so than of her own blood sister.
Zhong’qin Earl’s household moved quickly; it was not long before they came to formalize the small betrothal. Given that Yuan Shao was already quite advanced in age, they were aiming to have the wedding completed by mid-next-year. Sheng Hong, drawing on the same style of evasive and florid language he had employed during his imperial examination essays, composed a reply full of beautiful circumlocutions and vague warmth; whether the other side was actually able to make sense of it was unclear, but the gist was that his daughter was still so young that he could not bear to see her married off too soon — a tender and devoted expression of a father’s love. The Yuan family responded immediately by increasing the betrothal gifts considerably, and even arranged for an official from the Court of State Ceremonial to oversee the formal presentation of gifts. Sheng Hong had driven a sufficiently hard bargain to feel he had come out ahead, and in a spirit of magnanimity he correspondingly increased the promised dowry and fixed the wedding date for the following May. Both families were well pleased.
After that, Hualan was locked away in her chamber to embroider her trousseau and cultivate a more tranquil disposition. Minglan breathed a sigh of relief: she had by now accumulated a daily shuttlecock quota of sixty-five kicks, and the kicking had left her legs cramping constantly. With her warden now confined, she was finally free to return to the lifestyle of a small pig — eating and sleeping, eating and sleeping — though she was, of course, still subjected to the occasional disruption from Rulan.
The weather grew progressively colder. Spring, summer, and autumn had been manageable enough, but the moment winter arrived, the difference between north and south made itself felt instantly. Each wing of the household fired up their underfloor heating, and out came their various heated platforms: earthen kangs, brick kangs, and the especially fine and handsome wooden kangs — a kind of sleeping platform that combined the best features of a wide, comfortable bed with the warmth of a traditional kang. Minglan had grown up in the south and had never known that ancient northern homes possessed such wonderfully warm and comfortable sleeping arrangements. Probably thanks to the shuttlecock kicking, Minglan managed not to fall ill even as the cold deepened.
Someone else, however, was not so fortunate.
Sheng Lao was, after all, getting on in years, and the long journey from south to north had left her mildly out of sorts; she had been coughing since the start of autumn. Her natural authority meant that the maids and matrons in her quarters did not dare press her to take medicine or kick a shuttlecock, and so the underlying illness never fully cleared. When winter arrived, she began running intermittent low fevers, and then one day she suddenly spiked a dangerously high temperature — she was nearly unconscious with heat — and the doctor who came to examine her spoke gravely of the danger: elderly patients feared precisely this kind of sudden, fierce cold-invasion illness. One misstep could carry her off entirely. This sent Sheng Hong and his wife into a state of genuine terror.
If Sheng Lao were to pass away, Sheng Hong would have to observe the full period of mourning, and Hualan would have to observe it as well. Yuan Shao was already twenty years old — how could he wait out the full mourning period? Sheng Hong and his wife, suddenly grasping the full magnitude of what was at stake, found themselves completely united in purpose. They took turns attending at Sheng Lao’s bedside day and night, scrutinized every prescription the doctors wrote, and tasted every bowl of medicine themselves before it was served — coming within a hair’s breadth of collapsing from exhaustion in the process. But this display of devoted filial conduct and virtuous household management drew enthusiastic praise from the officials and gentry families throughout Dengzhou — so at least something had come of it sideways.
After a few days, Sheng Lao’s fever finally broke. She regained her breath, pulled back from the edge, and could be said to have retrieved her life. Sheng Hong and his wife, not daring to relax their vigilance, lost no time in sending an assortment of precious restorative remedies from the storeroom to Shou’an Hall. As far as Minglan was concerned, even the most expensive restorative was still traditional medicine, and the smell of it was no improvement over anything else in that category, and she found herself quietly pitying Sheng Lao — a sympathy that had barely lasted two days before Shou’an Hall suddenly sent word: the Elder, growing lonely in her advanced years, wished to have a young girl living by her side to relieve the emptiness.
The moment this news spread, some were delighted and some were anxious. First, those who were delighted.
“Mother, why are you telling me to go? Everyone says the Elder’s temper is difficult and her nature cold and distant — you can barely get three sentences out of her in a year. Her rooms are plain and bare with nothing of any quality, and the Elder has never shown you any favour anyway — I am not going over there to invite humiliation,” said Molan, curled up inside her quilted nest on the kang, a dark grey fur-lined jacket with chestnut and gold markings draped around her shoulders, a gold-gourd cloisonné hand warmer cradled in her arms. Small as she was, she had already grown into a refined and elegantly accomplished little person.
Lin Yiniang looked at her daughter — both proud and anxious: “My precious girl, how could I be willing to let you suffer? But we have no choice but to think ahead for your future. Did you not see the grand preparations for your Elder Sister Hualan’s betrothal? Every family with a daughter was vying to present their child to the best advantage — what a magnificent and glorious affair! In a few years, when you come of age, what kind of circumstances will you be in?”
“What circumstances?” Molan shifted slightly, her tone as composed as always. “Mother, please stop dwelling on legitimate versus concubine-born — Father has long said that he will not shortchange me in the future. He treated Elder Sister the way he did, and he will treat me the same. I will have my days of glory and honour. Besides, Mother, you have your own holdings and property — what is there for me to fear?”
“My child, what do you know? Your Elder Sister Hualan’s grand prospects today are the result of three things: first, your father’s career has gone smoothly, and his official reputation has always been good, so his social connections have been untroubled; second, our family has a fair amount of means and is not like one of those bare, impoverished minor offices with nothing to offer; third — and this is the part you cannot match — Hualan is a legitimate daughter with a maternal family of distinguished hereditary lineage behind her. And on top of all that, you and that Ru girl are only a few months apart in age — when the time comes to discuss marriage prospects, you will likely be considered at the same time. By then, how many genuinely good families will still be available for you?” Lin Yiniang took the warming hand stove from her daughter, opened it, used the copper pin at her side to stir the charcoal inside, then closed it and handed it back.
Even Molan, sharp as she was, found her face going faintly red at this: “What is Mother saying? Your daughter is only so many years old and you’re already talking about this?”
Lin Yiniang wrapped both her small hands in her own and held them close. Her delicately pretty features took on a trace of steeliness as she said, in a low and measured tone: “What happened all those years ago — I have never regretted it. Becoming a concubine, offending the Elder, being unwelcome in the household — none of that frightens me. Your brother, in any case, is a young master — whether he is legitimate or not, he will always receive some portion of the family property and will have his own place to stand in the world. It is you, and only you, that I worry about.”
Molan murmured softly: “Mother, don’t take it to heart — Father dotes on me so much. Among all his daughters, I am second only to Elder Sister in his affections; he would never treat me poorly in the future…”
“But he cannot treat you all that well either!” Lin Yiniang cut her daughter off with a single sentence, then leaned back against the pile of cushions in their large saffron-gold and dragon-patterned upholstery and closed her eyes, speaking at a slow and deliberate pace. “You are seven years old now — it is time you understood a few things. When I was seven, your maternal grandfather had already lost the family fortune. From that point on, I never had a single day that could be called decent. Your maternal grandmother had no head for planning and managed entirely by pawning things day by day. She used to sigh and lament that she had not married into a respectable household. Girls she had grown up playing and laughing with as children — some of them were decked in gold and silver, living in wealth and splendour, while others were in desperate poverty and not even welcomed by their own families. At least she did one thing right before she passed: she sent me to this Sheng household.”
The room was quiet; only the slow curling of smoke from the incense burner on the floor broke the stillness. Lin Yiniang’s gaze grew slightly distant as she recalled her first day in the Sheng household. Back then, Sheng Hong’s official rank had not been high, but Sheng Grandfather had accumulated a considerable family fortune to leave behind for his descendants, and the master himself was an Academician — a top examination laureate of the third rank — so the Sheng household had naturally carried itself with distinction. The garden was so elegant and beautiful, the furnishings so richly gilded and painted, the silk and gauze and satin and fine cloth for all four seasons… in all her life she had never imagined the world contained days like these, lives of such pampered ease. And back then, Sheng Hong had been so refined and handsome, so cultivated and genteel in his bearing. She could not help but let her thoughts stray in another direction…
Molan looked at her mother’s hazy, lovely face and suddenly spoke: “But then, Mother, why did you insist on becoming a concubine? Would it not have been better to marry out properly as a respectable first wife? All you’ve done is bring gossip on yourself — people say you, they say you… willingly degraded yourself…”
Lin Yiniang’s eyes snapped open at once, sharp and intent, fixing on her daughter. Molan immediately looked down and fell silent in alarm. Lin Yiniang stared a moment longer, then shifted her gaze away, and spoke slowly and softly: “You are growing up now, and it is time you understood things properly… The Elder, in many ways, is quite good — except for one thing: she is fond of murmuring that verse about how easy it is to find a priceless gem, yet how rare to find a person of true feeling. ‘Poverty and hardship make a marriage bitter’ — the Elder grew up as a legitimate daughter of a marquis household. What could she know of the suffering of ordinary poor families from the outside? A government-school scholar earns, in a month, no more than six or seven measures of rice and one or two strings of coins. The head maid in our household already draws eight qian of silver per month; that jacket you are wearing alone is worth fifty or sixty taels; the silver-thread charcoal burning in your hand warmer costs two taels of silver per catty; add in what you eat and wear day to day — how many government scholars would it take to cover that?”
Tiny beads of sweat had begun to form on Molan’s forehead. Lin Yiniang smiled bitterly: “And besides, is it certain that a man of humble origins would necessarily be a good and upright person? At the time, I had a cousin who married a poor scholar, thinking that someday he might make something of himself. But that scholar failed his examinations, failed at business, and left every burden of household and livelihood on your Aunt’s shoulders entirely. She worked herself to exhaustion, enduring every hardship alongside her husband, bearing his children, even managing to accumulate a few acres of farmland. And then came a year when the harvest was only slightly better than usual — and that poor excuse for a man decided he wanted a concubine. Your Aunt refused, and for that she was berated day after day for being ‘unvirtuous,’ and she nearly got divorced. Unable to hold out, she let the concubine into the household, and within a few years she was driven to her death by grief and humiliation, leaving behind several children to be mistreated. Hmph! And when that scholar first came to the house to make his proposal, his mouth was full of grand promises about cherishing her, about mutual respect and harmony, about a life lived as equals between lute and cithara… all of it hollow words!”
Molan had been listening with rapt attention. Lin Yiniang’s voice gradually grew softer and more gentle: “Is a woman’s whole life not built upon the man she is given? If a man is a coward and a failure, even the strongest of women cannot hold her head up straight. Back then, I told myself: whether I was to be a wife or a concubine, my husband had to be a man of outstanding qualities — someone of deep feeling, capable and accomplished, someone who could shelter a family from the winds and storms. Following your father — being a concubine, yes, but at least I would not need to spend my days in anxiety and dread, at least I would have a settled and stable life to live, and my children would have someone to depend on.”
Mother and daughter sat for a while in silence. After a moment, Lin Yiniang gave a soft laugh: “The Elder, back then, was trying to arrange marriages for me only with what she called ‘families of scholarly farming tradition.’ And the Elder herself clung to a life of deliberate plainness and simplicity — how was she ever going to provide me with a respectable dowry? Hmph! I am, when all is said and done, a proper young lady from a family of officials. If I was going to be eating coarse grain and drinking plain water, why would I have bothered coming into the Sheng household at all? Truly laughable.”
“And yet you’re telling me to go over to the Elder now — would she even keep me there?” Molan could not help saying.
Lin Yiniang’s smile turned warm and tender: “Silly girl — your father is showing you favour! I may present myself with dignity, but I am still a Yiniang. You are not being raised at the Elder’s side, either. If you could be left there for a while to learn some proper rules and conduct in the Elder’s presence, it would give you more standing when you appear in company later on, and when it comes time to discuss a match, you would be seen as a cut above the average concubine-born daughter. The master said he would let the Elder choose for herself — but think about it: Hualan is getting married, Rulan cannot be spared, Minglan is a sickly, listless little thing, and the young masters need to study. Once you count them all up, who else is left?”
Molan was both startled and pleased: “So Father truly does care for me — but still, I am rather frightened of the Elder…”
Lin Yiniang smoothed a strand of hair at her temple. Her eyes curved with a gentle expression as she said: “I do know the Elder’s character well enough. She is upright and incorruptible by nature, and she has a particular fondness for taking pity on those who are disadvantaged and vulnerable. A little proud, perhaps, but she is not difficult to serve. Starting tomorrow morning, you are to go before the Elder to pay your respects and attend to her — remember: be careful and submissive, cultivate an air of guilt and apology, never call me ‘Mother’ in front of her — call me ‘Yiniang,’ and it would not hurt to even criticize me a little when the moment calls for it. Be sweet-tongued and quick-handed, and I believe the Elder is not the type to hold my account against you. Ah — speaking of which, it is I who have made things harder for you. If only you had been born from Wang Shi’s belly, you would not have to go out of your way to win over that old woman…”
“What are you saying, Mother? I am flesh and blood born from you — there is no such thing as making things harder for me or not,” Molan said, smiling at the gentle scolding, snuggling into Lin Yiniang’s embrace. “With Mother coaching me, your daughter can surely win the Elder’s affection. And when the time comes and I have some standing of my own, I will be able to give Mother a comfortable life too.”
Lin Yiniang smiled: “Good child — when your father rises even further in office and his rank grows even higher, there is every chance you could marry even more grandly than your elder sister. There will be blessings of the greatest kind waiting for you yet.”
Author’s Note — Character Relationships (being updated):
Old Patriarch Sheng (third-rank examination laureate) + Sheng Elder (legitimate daughter of the Yongyi Marquis household)
Sheng Hong: concubine-born son, registered under the name of his formal mother; his birth mother Chun Yiniang is deceased. Wang Shi: wife; legitimate daughter of an official household. Lin Yiniang: concubine; originally an orphan girl raised by the Sheng Elder. (Other various household concubines unspecified.)
Eldest daughter: Sheng Hualan — legitimate. Eldest son: Sheng Changbai — legitimate. (Two daughters and one son in between died in infancy.) Third son: Sheng Changsong — born of Lin Yiniang. Fourth daughter: Sheng Molan — born of Lin Yiniang. Fifth daughter: Sheng Rulan — legitimate. Sixth daughter: Sheng Minglan — born of Wei Yiniang; birth mother is deceased. Fourth son: Sheng Changdong — born of Xiang Yiniang; the youngest, not yet walking.