Master Wu's Bride

by Edward C. Patterson

  After eating and dressing, she wondered where Lao Lao was. Perhaps his constant presence was a short-lived thing — the first days with a new mistress, and then only when summoned. But she knew the way to the ancestral shrine. So without further assistance, she poked through the dawn’s light into the courtyard and made her way to greet her husband. Perhaps she could report his brother’s conduct and he could tell the other ancestors. They could curb Liang-tze of his ways if banded together in a ghostly dream. But she was sure Wu Hung-lin knew his brother’s wicked ways already. Was not Liang-tze removed from the main household, not to be trusted with the other wives?

  Chi Lin burned incense first to Guan-yin, and then to the household god. She was careful not to spill ash on her purple robes because she wore them today as a courtesy to her mother-in-law’s wishes. She even had the small purple gem dangling from her hair pins. She clapped three times, and then bowed to her husband’s totem.

  “I have come again, my lord,” she said. “But you can see that I have. In your bright eyes I hope I am acceptable. I will regale your spirit as long as I have breath and will honor your name.” She clapped again, and then burned red paper prayers. She knew she was being watched, this time by two sets of small eyes. “If it pleases you, my lord, breathe your healing ch’i upon my aching fingers so I might please your mother in the work. I did my best yesterday, but I fear that pain might steal away my zest today.” She bowed again. “And may you keep your spirit fixed upon your daughters who come to spy upon me.” She turned abruptly to the two girls. “Pearl. I see you are no longer afraid of the ghost bride.”

  Pearl moved closer, but the other one hid her eyes.

  “I have brought my sister Jade to see you.”

  “But she saw me last night,” Chi Lin replied. “Am I more fearsome when dressed and in your father’s presence.”

  “He is dead,” Jade said. “Are you dead too?”

  “Do I look dead?”

  “I cannot tell,” Jade replied.

  “She is not dead, silly,” Pearl said. “You saw her last night washing her bonies. Ghosts do not have bonies, you know.”

  “How do you know?” Jade asked. “You do not have bonies.”

  “Neither do you. Are you are ghost?”

  Jade stuck out her tongue at Pearl, but suddenly paused. Her eyes grew wide. Pearl turned also, and both girls scurried away. Chi Lin knew that Willow had arrived.

  2

  “Purple Sage,” Willow said, as she escorted Chi Lin through the courtyards. “Today you will visit the First Wife, Mei Lo, who is called Jasmine. You will see her in the Blue Heaven Hall.”

  “Am I to sew today?” Chi Lin asked.

  “Perhaps. If my mistress commands it. But she wishes you to meet Jasmine and learn about the Silk ji-tzao, which all women of the house must learn and attend.”

  Chi Lin grinned. Perhaps her fingers would be spared today. She wanted to make so bold to ask Willow a question, but then remembered that Willow was a servant and not to be obeyed except when issuing the Old Lady of the House’s commands. So Chi Lin became bold.

  “Do you work with the silk also?”

  Willow did not answer at first. Then she halted, and turned, bowing slightly and grinning.

  “I know the art and have practiced it since my childhood. Now, not so much, because my mistress has deemed me worthy of attending her. But even my mistress has worked with the silk. It is an enterprise central to the house. All the tenants have silk ji-tzao and send two thirds of their cocoons here for reeling to subsidize their requirements for the salt ji-tzao. Salt and silk.” She bowed. “Yes, it is salt and silk in this house. None are exempt. All work for the benefit of the monopoly.”

  “Thank you,” Chi Lin replied.

  Willow turned again, progressing through the courtyards. She remained silent. Chi Lin asked no more questions.

  The yards were busy — sweepers and toters, planters and scrubbers. Men servants rushed about with baskets, while maids hastened with bed linens and clothing, some for the main hall, while others rushed to the halls of the three wives. Chi Lin saw workmen repairing flagstones and recalled that her quarters needed the most repairs. The task would be daunting. She remembered the young worker from yesterday who caught her attention as he repaired the threshold, although she did not glimpse his face. However, she thought she saw a man of his stature crossing the main courtyard. He was tall and muscular. He had a manner about him that was distinguished as if he was raised to be something more than a servant. Nevertheless, it was a momentary thought, which she soon put aside, because they now stood before the Blue Heaven Hall.

  The hall was similar to her own abode except it was not a shambles, but a fine painted structure — turquoise and gold with green trim. The porch was surrounded by a yellow balustrade and everywhere there were sprigs of pine and willow. Pots of blue-green cabbage lined the stairway and long vines of firecracker flowers draped from roof to ground.

  Chi Lin followed Willow into the room, which, like its owner, was redolent of jasmine with hints of camellia. The walls were covered in silk brocade and beadwork. On the floor, a vast peacock rug. A sandalwood partition separated the sleeping area from the ke-ting, which contained ebony chairs, a table and a throne-like couch. On this couch sat Jasmine, the first wife. Chi Lin had met her on the day she had entered the house. Then Jasmine appeared aloof, inspecting Purple Sage with the eye of an appraiser. Now was no different. She sat like the lady of the house, which she was not, but her demeanor aspired to it, or so Chi Lin thought. But Chi Lin did not begrudge Jasmine her place. She was the first wife and had given Wu Hung-lin two sons, one of which was the heir to the Imperial Salt Certificate. Both sons were here now — chest high youths slouching at either side of their mother.

  Chi Lin curtsied to the First Wife.

  “Am I in the presence of Mei Lo?” she asked.

  “You are, Purple Sage. I favor you with this meeting so you may begin the task.” She rose a little on her chair, but did not offer Chi Lin a seat. “Willow.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “You may wait outside.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  She then pushed her sons forward.

  “These are our husband’s sons,” she said. “My sons. The first is Wu Lin-kua, the heir.”

  Chi Lin curtsied to the taller child, who looked nervously at his brother.

  “What is wrong?” Jasmine snapped. “Mistress Purple Sage is your Auntie, now. Bow like a gentleman.”

  Lin-kua bowed, but still appeared nervous. Chi Lin suspected he worried whether she would say something to his mother about their encounter last night — a window peek and a pair of breasts.

  “And this is Wu Chou-fa,” Jasmine announced. “He is second, but still a legacy to the house. Bow to your Auntie Purple Sage.”

  Chi Lin curtsied to his bow.

  “Fine sons,” Chi Lin said, eliciting a smile from Jasmine.

  “They are,” she said. “Scholars also. Of course, we will not press you with their accomplishments as you will be denied the honor of sons. But all Wu Hung-lin’s wives are honored aunties.” She clapped. “Now off to your studies. Master P’ing Chin does not tolerate tardiness.”

  The boys bowed curtly again, and then scurried off. Chi Lin remained nervous in the silence that followed. She was not sure whether it was her place to speak to Jasmine. But this woman was a woman after all and not her commander. Jasmine ranked higher, but was here to facilitate, not to order her about. So Chi Lin became bold again.

  “P’ing Chin is a fine scholar,” she said.

  “Oh. You know P’ing Chin?”

  “He was a student of my father’s and worked in the Ya-men as an underclerk.”

  Jasmine frowned as if the acquaintance did more to downgrade P’ing Chin in her eyes than raise him up.

  “I did not realize your father was a scholar.”

  “Is a scholar,” Chi Lin replied, nodding to assuage the contradiction. “My father
was at court, but was excused after His Majesty’s evaluation and adjustment of government officials,”

  “I know no such thing and neither should you,” Jasmine said. “It does not add to your status here.”

  “I am sorry to mention it, but a father’s history should be cherished by all his children.”

  “Just so.” Jasmine stood abruptly. “It is time for you to come. Follow me.”

  Jasmine strode past Chi Lin, who managed to follow her over the threshold. Willow waited outside, and then also followed. The three women formed a feminine train heading for the silk ji-tzao.

  3

  A high hedge surrounded the silk barn and the mulberry grove. Two dozen or more workers tended the bushes, or so was Chi Lin’s rough accounting. Their backs were bent over the baskets, where leaves were collected. Some climbed ladders to the uppermost branches cutting the tenderest flanges. As Jasmine engaged the pathway, those whom she passed bowed. Chi Lin knew these bows were not for her as she had not earned her place yet. Still, perhaps the obeisance was for the entire company rather than just the First Wife. Near the barn were trellises, each protected from the sun with green paper awnings.

  Chi Lin was amazed at what she saw, for each trellis was crawling with worms, chubby grayish white larvae waddling along on strings and branches. Each trellis was attended by three women, who fed the beasties mulberry leaves by hand. The only men here were workers who tended the strings and repaired the trellises. Chi Lin noticed the youth who she thought she had seen yesterday, the one who had repaired the threshold to the Jade Heart Hall. She had not seen his face then, but his body drew her attention, as it did now. He had a sweet face and, upon seeing her, he smiled, but then quickly changed his mood to the stern countenance of a man focused on his work. Chi Lin’s heart jumped.

  Jasmine halted before this trellis.

  “This is where you shall work,” she said. “But first I will show you how these babies live and grow to be farmed for the house’s great benefit.” She picked up a mulberry leaf, and pointed it at a cluster of worms. “These are special babies, Purple Sage. For these worms have molted three times and are on their fourth molt. It is then that their cocoon can be useful, and only then.”

  Jasmine touched the leaf to the worm and it wiggled, its tiny jaws greedily consuming the leaf until its mandibles neared Jasmine’s fingers. She snatched another leaf and fed it again.

  “It is a simple task,” she said. “But if your hand is unsteady, the worm will not feed and if it does not feed, it will not molt. At first you will find that it takes to it well, but as the hours pass and your hand tires, it might abandon you, which is unacceptable.” She tossed the leaf aside, and pointed to the many cocoons that were ripe for gathering. “When they are perfect, the best are taken.”

  Jasmine turned abruptly and marched into the barn, Chi Lin and Willow trailing in tow. Here the air was acrid and bitter. Chi Lin choked.

  “It is not a pleasant odor,” Jasmine said. “But you will grow accustomed to it in time. You will be thankful that you will start outdoors feeding the beasties.”

  Chi Lin cupped her hand over her mouth to filter the stench. It scarcely helped. Still she was amazed at what she saw. Vats of boiling liquid, bubbling and, inside the vats, the cocoons. At intervals, servant women ladled and drained the cocoons, which were bright white and dripping.

  “We do this until the gum is boiled away,” Jasmine said. “Then the cocoons are propped in the feed bowls.”

  Jasmine picked up a cocoon and, with her fingernails picked at loose stands, the fibers frizzing in a cloud above the egg shaped object. She then drew the strands out until they formed threads. She placed the cocoon’s cradle into a feeding cup and hooked the strands through button holes, joining these strands to other strands. Here, a woman rotated a four spoke wheel, drawing the strands onto the reel. Chi Lin recognized the woman. It was the Second Wife — Lotus, who sat on a chair to preserve her bound feet. She nodded to Chi Lin.

  “Lotus has a fine hand and spidery fingers for this work,” Jasmine said. “It comes from playing the lute in the House of Pleasure.”

  Lotus nodded again, but remained silent. Chi Lin noticed the Third Wife, Orchid, propped on a distant chair spinning a similar reel. Evidently this important task was the prerogative of women of rank. However, Orchid did not look well or pleased with the work.

  “Will you teach me how to reel the silk, Jasmine?” Chi Lin asked.

  Jasmine did not reply. Instead, she walked toward another area, where the second reeling was undertaken and bolts of silk thread were readied for the loom. She whisked her hand in a demonstrative manner, and then marched back to the feeding zone.

  “You shall begin,” she said, depositing Chi Lin at the designated place, where Willow stood now as a place marker.

  The First Wife was gone leaving the Fourth Wife to her new labors among the trellises and mulberry leaves.

  Chapter Eight

  New Acquisitions

  1

  Feeding worms all day was less wearisome than sewing, or so Chi Lin thought. Perhaps it was easier on her sore fingers, the chubby recipients of the mulberry feast gentle in their bite. She grew less steady after a small lunch of tea, a bun and cold cabbage hearts, and her legs became strained by the time Willow came to fetch her again.

  “The mistress wishes to see you,” Willow said.

  Chi Lin smiled.

  “Come see,” she said to Willow. She continued to feed a worm. “I call this one Bright Eyes, because he always finds the tip of the leaf. And that one is Dumpling because she is so fat.”

  Willow grinned and picked up a leaf, feeding it to Dumpling.

  “It is not good to take them to heart,” Willow said. “When they climb the branch and spin their cocoon, you will never see them again. When the water boils, they die in their cradles.”

  “This I know,” Chi Lin said. “It is their sacrifice to our betterment. But I am happy to befriend them and make them fat before they meet their misfortune.”

  Willow stared at Purple Sage as if to see her for the first time. She fed another leaf to Dumpling, and then nodded.

  “It is time.”

  Chi Lin stepped away from the trellis, her legs buckling slightly now that they were released from their constant position. She placed the mulberry basket aside, and followed. She wondered how she would find any place within this great house without Willow as guide. The servant, who at first was stiff and formal, was now friendlier, easier in gait and disposed to speak at will.

  “You have spoken of your father,” Willow remarked.

  “To be sure.”

  “The First Wife has said as much to the Old Lady of the House.”

  “Did that displease her?”

  “I do not think so. You did not brag of being a scholar’s daughter. But Jasmine is proud and may have meant to make less of you by telling the mistress.”

  Chi Lin sighed. She did not wish to make an enemy of the First Wife, but she supposed if it were to happen, it would happen easily and not through intent. Still, she would be more circumspect.

  “My father was a teacher also,” Willow said. “Not a high scholar or official, but taught merchant sons to tally and keep accounts. No more.” She giggled. “But he would read to me and my sister and write poetry for us.”

  “Do you read?” Chi Lin asked.

  “It is forbidden.” She turned in her progress and winked. Still, Chi Lin would need to be circumspect in this. “Still, he read to us.”

  In their progress they came to a long house and, as they passed its door, Chi Lin saw Lin-kua and Chou-fa inside practicing their writing, brushes held firmly under Master P’ing Chin stern glance. He looked up and, upon seeing her, smiled. She halted.

  “Willow,” she said. “May I greet my old friend, P’ing Chin?”

  “I am not one to curtail you,” she said. “But the Old Lady of the House waits.”

  “I will be brief.”

  Chi Lin stood at
the threshold waiting for the signal to enter, a signal received from P’ing Chin. The boys stirred upon seeing their Auntie Purple Sage. Again the eye exchange told Chi Lin that they worried whether she would report them for last evening’s intrusion. P’ing Chin cocked his head.

  “Continue practicing,” he snapped. “I want perfect strokes. Nothing less is acceptable.”

  The boys bowed and worked their brushes frantically.

  “Master P’ing Chin,” Chi Lin said. “I did not expect to see you here. I was surprised when the First Wife mentioned your name.”

  “True, mistress,” he replied. “I am accustomed to tutor official’s sons. But the Wu House is mighty and can afford my services. These boys are very tiresome, I must say. Your father would have thrown them into the sea.”

  Chi Lin grinned, but was fearful that P’ing Chin would go so far as to reveal in front of the lads that she could read and write. That would never do, because she was sure they were tattle tongues and would tell their mother. Jasmine would whisper that a serpent of feminine scholarship has invaded the House of Wu.

  “They are good boys from what I can see,” she said, drawing grins from both. “And I am their Auntie now.”

  “I have heard as much, mistress,” P’ing Chin said. “You are the fabled ghost bride they have told tales about already. I am sure nothing these boys can say is true about you and can be remedied with extra hours of practice.”

  “I remember my father telling me that you knew such extra time when you were his student.”

  “We learn from experience. Your hand was always fair.”

  Chi Lin quickly opened her hands.

  “Needlework,” she said. “Needlework and feeding the worms. That is the ghost wife’s handiwork.”

  P’ing Chin caught her meaning because he rattled his teeth, and then bowed.

  “As it should be, mistress. Women’s hands are applied to industry and never to . . . well, there have been some, but where has that led us?”

  “Nowhere, I am sure.” She looked at the brushwork and noticed that Chou-fa’s radical was incorrectly missing a stroke and, although compelled to tell him, she desisted. “Fine scholars these, Master P’ing Chin.”