She was speaking of things from her childhood.
“…Back then, my mother didn’t like me much, because I was a girl.” Gazing up at the sky, Su Tan’er, after her laughter had faded, spoke on softly. “She had always hoped… that she could give my father a son someday. My father felt the same way, though at least he was a little warmer toward me—he used to say I was clever, and that a younger brother of mine would surely be even cleverer someday. My father always looked at me and saw a preview of what my future brother would be like. My mother wouldn’t even look at me. Back then I always used to cling to my mother, but she never paid me any attention. Sometimes when I did something wrong and annoyed her, she wouldn’t even hit me—she’d just wave a hand and have the wet nurse carry me away. Husband, I think that’s the worst kind of contempt in this world, isn’t it… Later I found out my mother always wanted a son, and at first I even hated the idea of a little brother, without understanding what difference there could possibly be between a girl and a boy…”
The wildflowers on the hillside bloomed in scattered patches. Su Tan’er rested a hand on her belly, watching the white clouds drift by in the evening sky. Ning Yi, who had had his eyes closed and had been smiling faintly, opened them now. “It’s fine. They don’t like us, we don’t have to like them either.”
“Ha, I can get away with not liking my mother. You can’t, though—people would talk behind your back, say the son-in-law is unfilial.”
Ning Yi turned his head to look at her for a moment, then said, quite solemnly, “They can’t out-argue me.”
“Pfft…” Su Tan’er couldn’t help but cover her mouth, and after a moment, gazed back up at the sky and spoke again.
“I was always a bit of an odd one among girls. Later, once I’d read a few books, I didn’t come to accept it the way those proper young ladies of good families would, as simply the natural order of things—instead I felt that my father and mother hadn’t treated me well, that it wasn’t fair at all. I grew up in that great house under the wet nurse’s care, and on the one hand I felt I ought to become the kind of daughter who’d make my father and mother regret how they’d treated me, someone who could take over the family business. On the other hand, I also felt that, being a girl, I had to master everything a girl was supposed to learn—otherwise, wouldn’t that just prove I secretly envied the boys? And wouldn’t that mean I’d lost?”
Ning Yi reached over and plucked a blade of grass stuck to the end of her hair. Su Tan’er’s voice drifted on, unhurried. “Growing up in a household like that—my wet nurse was kind to me when I was little, always telling me we were a great and wealthy family, that I was a proper young lady of good breeding, that others envied me for it. But by the time I was old enough to understand things, I realized there was nothing to envy at all. My father didn’t like me, my mother didn’t either. In a small, ordinary household, there wouldn’t have been this kind of trouble at all. I understand, really, that if the family hadn’t been so large, if I’d had an older brother, my father and mother wouldn’t have been under so much pressure, and I wouldn’t have been so neglected. I… I didn’t like all those years without my father and mother’s affection, and later I realized—I’d become just like them. In that household… there was no warmth between people at all…”
“I… this concubine, I’m not really a proper young lady of a great family—I just picked things up here and there from watching others, and in the end it never quite fit. This concubine… I like poetry, but I’ve never been good at writing it, and I don’t really know how to appreciate it either, so I told myself, back then there was too much to learn, too much about the business to master, there was simply no time… but that wasn’t really it either. This concubine never actually liked poetry at all—I just liked the feeling of being admired and praised for it… Sometimes, thinking about all this, seeing what my father and mother were like, I think—maybe I shouldn’t have children at all. If I have a child, and I don’t raise her well, she’ll end up resenting me as her mother, just like I resented mine. What then…”
“Your standards are too high—no one purely likes poetry for its own sake… You’ll be a good mother.” Ning Yi cut in.
Su Tan’er shook her head with a smile. “By the time I was fourteen or fifteen, I didn’t want to get married, so I just kept putting it off, and putting it off, until finally I couldn’t put it off any longer, and only then did I choose you, husband.”
She turned her head to look at Ning Yi lying beside her. “But even then, it wasn’t really sincere. I sent Xiao Chan to look after you, and I ran off on our wedding day, and didn’t come back for several days. Even after that, though we lived together, I never showed you much real respect or care…”
“Wasn’t it already quite good, though?”
Su Tan’er shook her head on the grass, her expression having grown calm now, with only the faintest natural smile. “No, it wasn’t…” As she said this, her voice had already begun to catch with emotion. “It wasn’t good at all… I was just putting on an act—pretending to be a proper young lady of a great family, pretending to be so sensible and considerate, just like I pretended to like poetry. This concubine… I was only thinking of myself, thinking about how to keep you under control, how to make this household… look like a proper family, so people wouldn’t talk behind your back. That was all I wanted. I never once thought about you, husband…”
“Women really are troublesome…”
“…But I think about it now.”
The two of them spoke almost at the same moment—Ning Yi grumbling idly, Su Tan’er murmuring low through her half-choked voice. Once they’d finished, they couldn’t help laughing softly at how it had come out. Ning Yi, eyes still closed, swept his hand sideways, his fingers nearly brushing Su Tan’er’s cheek. She tilted her head, eyes half-closed, and let her cheek rest against his hand, feeling the touch of his fingers.
The two of them had always been decisive people by nature, disliking anything overly sentimental. Together, there had certainly been conversations like their night at the small pavilion, which by the standards of this era might be considered romantic. But in truth, Su Tan’er’s temperament was worldly and practical, and even that heart-to-heart conversation at the pavilion had been conducted, as much as possible, in a natural, matter-of-fact tone—there had been little in the way of sweet words between them. Later, after calamity struck the Su family, their feelings for each other had grown rapidly, and by the time Su Tan’er had burned down the pavilion and their marriage had been consummated, though there were occasionally a few tender words exchanged, these were mostly confined to their moments alone together.
Su Tan’er rarely displayed the coy, girlish airs of a young bride—both of them were formidable people in their own right, and even when they did engage in a bit of playful teasing, it was always something understood between them without needing to be spoken. But over these past two days, having learned of her pregnancy and then of Ning Yi’s worsening wound, though she had quietly stayed by his side without much idle talk, it was only now that she truly opened up and let out all these things she had always thought didn’t need to be dwelt upon.
“This concubine knows now that you kept all of that in your heart back then, husband. All those twisted little thoughts I had—I imagine you saw right through them too, and thinking back on it now, it’s really rather humiliating… Back then, I just thought of you as a foolish scholar, someone who’d read a few books but couldn’t think clearly about anything, useless at dealing with people—I just thought… as long as I could keep you under control, that would be enough. A foolish scholar like you, husband, how could you possibly be a match for me…”
Ning Yi smiled faintly. “I’m still not, even now.”
“You have such a generous heart, husband—perhaps you feel that’s only natural, the way of the world. But this concubine, thinking about it now, wishes it could all happen over again. This concubine would treat you so much better, husband. This concubine… I’d want to become a truly proper young lady, to support my husband and raise our children well. I don’t want to have waited until eighteen to marry you, husband, and have people say you married some fierce old maid. If only I’d married you at fourteen or fifteen, that would have been so much better—that way… that way… everything would have been different. This concubine wouldn’t have so willfully dragged you along to Hangzhou…”
Although Su Tan’er’s voice had caught with emotion through much of what she’d said before, she had, in the end, remained fairly composed—but at this last line, she finally, truly began to cry. She clenched both fists at her sides, trembling faintly, weeping hard. This woman had always been proud by nature, and though she kept everything restrained beneath a gentle, composed exterior, the outlook on life she’d cultivated navigating the business world all these years was, in truth, as sharp-edged as Ning Yi’s own. Whenever something happened, her first instinct was always to seek a solution; regret, at most, might amount to reflection or self-examination. But now, knowing the road ahead was difficult, and that her husband’s wound might well be made worse by the long journey, she found herself, unexpectedly, overcome with guilt over feelings like these.
Ning Yi sighed, shifting himself closer to his wife. Su Tan’er grabbed hold of his clothes, weeping bitterly through gritted teeth.
“We’ll go home. There’s still a chance.” Ning Yi said simply.
Su Tan’er was already crying hard. “I want to have your child now, husband, I want to support you and raise our children, I don’t want to keep pushing myself so hard anymore, I don’t want to run the business anymore, I don’t even want to think about myself anymore… But then I think, too—if only, right now… if only there weren’t this child right now, that would be fine, not now, but later, later would be fine. These past two days, watching you do all these things, husband, fighting so hard to find some way out—I know you’re weighed down by responsibility, and even without a child’s responsibility added to it you’d still be doing the same thing, but I’m truly frightened now… The physician said you need rest, husband, you need to recuperate quietly and let your own body pull you through. But you’re wearing yourself out like this over our escape—how can your body possibly hold up… I want to say something, to try to talk you out of it, but I know there’s no point…”
She wept hard beside him, stifling it as much as she could, her whole body trembling with the effort. “These past two days, husband, you’ve been asking all those people questions, planning all those things, and I’ve been right beside you… right beside you, forcing myself to stay quiet. In my heart, there’s been a voice telling me over and over, it’s no use saying anything, it’s no use, it’ll only make you more anxious, I can’t let you be worried about doing your work and worried about me at the same time. But then I also think—if only I were like other, ordinary women, I could just cry and shout and refuse to let you do any of this, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about any of it myself…”
Ning Yi patted her shoulder. “You already know it wouldn’t do any good to say it…”
“When I can’t hold it in any longer…” Su Tan’er sniffled. “When I can’t hold it in any longer, I go hide in the tent, sit there for a while, force myself not to cry. Xiao Chan and the others have already cried several times over. They wanted to come and try to talk you out of things too, but I’ve kept them away every time. I don’t want you to have to spend the energy talking to them, having to comfort them too. And I don’t want to waste your strength on words that won’t help either, talking to me… I didn’t even mean to say any of this to you, really…”
Having said all this, she wept quietly, but she seemed, in the end, somewhat calmer than before. Ning Yi waited a moment, then said, “I’ll get better.”
Su Tan’er wiped at her eyes, though the tears kept falling all the same, and leaning against his chest, nodded. “You have to get better. If you don’t get better, I’ll never find another husband like you—I won’t even want the child, I won’t want the family either… I was never going to be a good mother to begin with—I’ve already caused enough families to fall apart and scatter in my time. Husband, remember this—I’m carrying your child now. You’re exhausted right now, but you still can’t say you’re tired, you still have to push through. But if you truly can’t make it through—that’s fine too, we’ll go down together and find you…”
She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her gentle, oval face with its lips pressed tightly together. As a woman who had made her way through the business world with such formidable success, she had always carried herself with a quiet, understated grace—her features were too delicate, and she was still only in her early twenties, unlike the ruthless, decisive merchants of legend. But at this moment, only in those large eyes, still wet from crying, could one glimpse the stubborn, unyielding streak she had cultivated and always kept carefully restrained through her years in business—mingled now with that same gentle face, conveying to the person before her an even more heart-wrenching message: this is your woman.
Ning Yi smiled. “Don’t underestimate your husband. Whatever happens, I’ll live through this. You’re having this child, that’s settled.”
Su Tan’er touched her belly, then leaned in closer to Ning Yi, one hand still gripping the front of his robe, and closed her eyes, her lips moving as though murmuring something to herself—as though she were praying for something. But the mountain wind blew past just then, and the exact words were lost.
Clouds drifted across the sky in soft ribbons; the sunset burned crimson across the horizon, over the mountains and the flowing water. As night fell, within the camp of the refugees, the army began stirring into busy motion once more. The next day, they broke camp again. The pursuing forces behind them were, in truth, no longer very far off, and by midday, as they drew closer, word began to reach them from stragglers among the refugees—that just ahead of them, within that largest column of fleeing refugees, discord had begun to break out among their own ranks…