The Master of the House had summoned her to attend on the Old Lady of the House in an unusual ceremony. Chi Lin met the First Wife before the Jade Heart Hall, Jasmine acknowledging her with a curt nod, but expecting a full curtsy in return, which Chi Lin bestowed. Together, led by Willow, they entered the Jade Heart Hall where their mother-in-law sat in a high backed chair flanked by two shorter chairs. The wives were instructed to take their places behind a screen. Wu T’ai-po, his journeymen and his two grandsons sat at the center of the hall. Once this arrangement conformed to the Master’s liking, the visitor doors opened and, in addition to sunlight, in came three members of the Chi clan.
Chi Lin recognized her cousin Chi Fa immediately, but had only met the others, Chi Mu and Chi Ma once, but knew them by their sour faces. All three entered and bowed to Wu T’ai-po.
“We have come, Master Wu,” Chi Fa said.
“So you have and promptly, I might add.”
“We believe in keeping appointments in the House of Chi.”
All three bowed again.
“Have you met with your venerable father, sir?” Wu T’ai-po asked.
“We have.”
“Has he met with his venerable brother and your talented cousin?”
“He has.”
“Then you know what we are about.”
Chi Fa approached closer. Chi Lin saw his eyes and knew he could see her through the screen.
“Our household owes much to yours as does the county,” Chi Fa said. “We are about industry. The winds have done their worst, but we shall do our best.”
“And quickly too,” Wu Lin-kua added, quite unexpectedly. But the aside pleased his grandfather. “Time is costly.”
“It shall be done,” Chi Fa said, bowing to . . . he was not sure who now, so it was more gesture than bow. “And will a timely restoration be met with a commensurate premium?”
“It surely shall,” Wu T’ai-po said. “But do not expect a king’s reward because I am no king. I hold the monopoly rights, which could very well drift if His Majesty, may He live ten-thousand years, is not pleased. So you will regard compensation as a rolling thing from on high to the good earth. We need the ji-tzao restored to operation.”
“It shall be done.”
“And once completed, the ji-tzao inspections shall precede on a different footing.”
“I understand.”
With this statement, Jasmine fidgeted and scowled at Chi Lin. Chi Lin had never consulted with Jasmine on these arrangements. The restoration of the salt ji-tzao could be expected to be outsourced, but then the tours would continue as they always had under Jasmine’s proxy. But to hear of a different footing now and here, behind the screen, in a place where she could not object or speak her mind, was unforgivable. Chi Lin just shrugged as if she had nothing whatsoever to do with it. Their mother-in-law snapped her fan attempting to restore Jasmine’s composure.
“Please present my chief journeyman, Chou Kuai-tze, with your plans,” Wu T’ai-po said. “He shall oversee your progress.”
“The plans are in the saddlebags, neighbor Wu.”
“Very good.”
And so it went. There was no further discussion. The council dispersed and the women returned to their places in their own halls. But Chi Lin knew Jasmine would find some way to upset these plans.
2
The Chi family had been an industrious clan for years, at least Chi Wan and his children were. Unlike brother Chi Ming, Chi Wan extended the family estate into rice production adapted to the marshlands and established looms at four locations taking in raw thread and weaving it into fine silk cloth. Some of this thread, he bought, but mostly he wove on consignment taking a percentage of the raw spools in to the finished bolts out. Chi Wan thought to expand into the trade itself, but a silk merchant was a low creature and the profit would not extend the family’s position among the Yan-cheng gentry — a goal to be held as paramount. The major competition for the silk weaving business in Yan-cheng county was the Gui clan — a more rarified clan than the Chi being one of three original county families.
Chi Lin’s brother, Chi Sheng, may have been crippled-born, but his mind was sharp and his brushwork keen. He created the plans to restore the ji-tzao with evaporation towers caissoned in stone to prevent them from being toppled again in a storm. He designed hoisting engines and cart wagons to transport stone from Ching-kua county. The traditional bamboo building materials were retained and the ability to assemble them rested squarely on the shoulders of tenant skill. The woman and children would be deployed to clean the pits and seek tinder for the charcoal fires. The marsh would provide the rest. Chi Lin showed an interest in tenant housing, which seemed to have missed the planning. She expressed this concern to her mother-in-law.
“Why not teach them to sew houses?” the Old Lady replied, grinning. “You are too focused on their welfare and not enough on ours. They have survived worse than this.”
Chi Lin felt this to be an unfair assessment, but could not dispute it. She harbored Yu Li, whom she called little Butterfly, who now preferred to be a house servant than a tenant. In this Chi Lin’s heart was shown to the world. So Chi Lin left the restoration to the men and concentrated on repairs to the folk silk ji-tzao and prepared for the first tour, which was still many moons off.
Jasmine found many ways to squeeze Purple Sage, but these attempts did not bother her. Any task the First Wife sent her way, she accomplished promptly and skillfully. Any attempt Jasmine made to highlight the fact that Chi Lin frittered away time on useless books or brushing poetry, had no effect, the Master of the House accepting it as much an asset as the dowry. Any reprisals through Lin-kua and Chou-fa were useless, because the boys sought out their Auntie for advice and enjoyed idle banter with her. Lin-kua continued to find books for Chi Lin’s library and, when he asked her leading questions about the relationships between men and women, Chi Lin suggested to Pang Guo-ta that it might be time to take the young master to the Sojourn of Heaven’s Eye to answer those questions. Chi Lin seemed impervious to the First Wife’s abrasions except when it came to Wu Ming-kuan.
Ming-kuan came many times into his Auntie’s courtyard with his boats. He loved to set them in the koi pond and splash them about. He also loved to play with Raisin Cake and became a favorite with little Butterfly. In that he became a source of contention between the tenant girl and Sapphire, who now lived in the Silver Silence in a room near the main hall. Sapphire continued to be moody, showed temper and pined for her mother. The Old Lady of the House did not know what to do and Lotus did not care for the girl, who also caused trouble between her sisters. So Chi Lin offered to take Sapphire rather than have her put into the cold harbor with her former amah. But every time Ming-kuan came into the courtyard and little Butterfly came to play with him by the pool, Sapphire would march in, ordering the girl to stay away from her brother; that Yu Li was nothing but a slave and not to be around him. This started Ming-kuan crying and little Butterfly pouting and Sapphire announcing to everyone that she was in charge of her small brother.
As it happened, when Ming-kuan came to play, Mi Tso-tze would quickly round up little Butterfly, and Po Bo would engage Sapphire, leaving the boy to play with his boats alone, unless his brothers came, which sometimes resulted for sea battles, broken boats and a mess for Lao Lao to mop. Jasmine intervened. She told the Old Lady of the House that it was not appropriate for Ming-kuan to go the Auntie Purple Sage’s courtyard unescorted by the amah. This was true, and the Old Lady enforced it. Now when the boy came to play, the amah was there, chasing the dog away and not permitting Ming-kuan to get wet by the pool. So his point of coming was gone and the boy no longer came. In this, and only this, did Jasmine succeed in addressing Chi Lin’s perceived ji-tzao snub.
3
Twenty-four summers had changed the scope of the ji-tzao inspection. In addition to the tours and the tenant accounting, there was now the scrutiny of the Chi family books, an unusual course of action, which Chi Lin devised to unde
rtake herself. Chi Lin would arrange her ke-ting for company with Mi Tso-tze and little Butterfly’s help, one grown older and the other a graceful young woman. Mo Li would stand near the door supervising the buns and tea and plates of savories for Purple Sage’s guests. The Silver Silence was perfumed with sandalwood and had may fine pieces of furniture. The walls were hung with art acquired as gifts over the years. Today cousin Chi Lu-yi would cross the threshold to review the Chi family books. This had become a normal routine — every three moons. Chi Lu-yi was Chi Fa’s son and assumed many responsibilities when his father became the Master of the Chi House upon his father’s death. But it had not been always so.
In the days after the restoration of the ji-tzao, Chi Fa would come to the Jade Heart Pavilion to review progress. The assembly was always the same — Wu T’ai-po, the journeymen, the grandsons and the women behind the screen. After one such session, Chi Lin surprised everyone by leaving her chair and her position behind the screen. She presented herself to her father-in-law, and then spoke the following words:
“It is with deep humility as a mere woman that I am permitted to speak to you in such company,” she said, although no one present remembered when permission had been granted. “The service of my family is as sure as my obedience to my husband to which there can be no doubt. But to doubly assure the compliance to my father-in-law’s compact with us, I will undertake to listen to my cousin’s accounting once in every three moons as a sign of our bonded trust.”
She curtsied first to her cousin, and then to her father-in-law before rising and returning to her chair. In his silence, Wu T’ai-po accepted this bond. In his silence, Chi Fa acquiesced in it, but soon visited his cousin in her abode. It had been the first time any of her clan had stepped foot into the Silver Silence and she had it prepared well. It was not as elegant as it would become, but it was enticing enough. The best chair was offered to Chi Fa, who took it unquestioningly. But he did have questions.
“Cousin,” he said, chafing. “Was such a display necessary to assure our arrangements with your father-in-law? Do the Chi need to account to you as well as to your brother?”
“My brother accounts for Wu production,” she said. “In that, you do the same. But my concern is any extra burden that might press down upon the tenants.”
“They benefit from our work,” Chi Fa said. “We have no need to squeeze them. We are paid by contract.”
“Just so. And it would be an insult if the Wu family oversaw the Chi family accounting. But it would be unfortunate if suspicions grew beyond reach. If I look at the accounting and see no untoward gains, no suspicion can assume the upper hand.”
Chi Fa was miffed by the suggestion.
“Surely your brother could do it. This is business, not family politics.”
Chi Lin sighed. It was hard to press her kinfolk too harshly, and she would not do it. She raised her tea bowl to soften Chi Fa’s manner. He was always pleased when his belly was full, so the bun platter was offered also.
“I mean no disrespect, cousin,” Chi Lin said. “I am lost to the world within this big house. But I have managed to make the proposal and gained Wu patronage for the Chi. It rises and falls on . . . on me.”
Chi Fa grumbled.
“You will be inspecting the ji-tzao. What more could they want?”
“I inspect by proxy. It is the responsibility of the First Wife, Mei Lo, to whom I am not a bright star in the night sky. I will inspect, but she will spark suspicions. As mere women, we know that business is not our affair. But as mere women, we are shaped by gossip that can make the business harder. So, Chi Fa, forgive your foolish cousin. Let her peruse the Chi family accounts once every three moons over buns and tea. It will kill suspicions that gossip spurs. Business will prosper.”
4
Chi Lin became a champion of the tenants. She did not speak for them nor incite them, but quietly noted their hardship and tried to aleve it. As tenants, their labor and life would never be free from hardship, but the sight of the touring lady — the Salt Goddess they called her, and, after she began wearing a cap of Imperial Crane feathers, Queen Crane — gave their hope a lift. Chi Lin did little to effect change, but it came nonetheless. Because the inspection no longer depended on the Journeymen and the Imperial Commissioner’s Proxy to make a tally, there was no need for the squeeze silver. It was offered at first, but if the tally was incorrect by Chi accounting, the inspection failed and the silver was not returned. Its uselessness became apparent, because the Chi inspectors were salaried and would not take it, especially now that their books were being scrutinized by the Salt Goddess. So the Pao-t’ien was no longer pressed to bribe their way to success. The families that achieved their quotas stood in line to make the most profit. The wastrel clans got their just due also.
On one occasion, early in the change, the silver ingots were offered and the lady basket was filled with seven silver coins. Chi Lin was supposed to take these and give five to Jasmine. Instead, she thanked the elders for their consideration and returned all seven pieces. The silver ingots were also returned by the Journeyman, in this case, Pa Li-tze. Later, when Pa grumbled about it, Chi Lin said:
“The silver was meant to level all faults, but by doing so, it creates faults. Now it will be better to remain in the tenants’ hands because we benefit from their increased industry, which is far better, do you not think?”
Pa Li-tze did not know what to think. Everyone in the Wu household knew better than to chide this meddlesome woman, whose intentions were always for the best. Jasmine was a different story. When she sought her five silver coins and was told they were returned, she raged, her fists balled and her demeanor compromised.
“The silver exchange is traditional,” she shouted at Chi Lin, who tried not to cower. “It is ceremonial and demanded by the Emperor. How dare you make alterations?”
Chi Lin did no more than curtsy and departed before Jasmine began to throw things. She had expected to be admonished by the Old Lady of the House, but not a word was mentioned. Her mother-in-law was less salty now, sitting quietly, sometime not even undertaking to sew. But she was generally more favorable to Purple Sage than to Jasmine. The lack of chastisement could be construed as favorable. But at the next tour, Chi Lin approached the chair only to find Jasmine in her own chair. So together they undertook the ceremony.
At first, Chi Lin worried, because Jasmine did not acknowledge her and took the lead position in the procession. But soon Chi Lin realized that passers-by did not recall the First Wife. In fact, some just nodded as they would any person in the street. But when they saw Purple Sage in her soft lavender robe and her brilliant Imperial Crane bonnet, they bowed and curtsied, much to Jasmine’s annoyance. The tenants recognized the First Wife and acted accordingly, but this did not stop the men from hailing the Salt Goddess who followed or the children from shouting Queen Crane. By the time the tour reached the Pao-t’ien, Jasmine was furious. She bolted out of her chair and marched into the hall taking her place behind the screen. It created a tense atmosphere, but the men went about their business.
Chi Lin sat beside her sister-in-law and watched as the Journeyman (Pang Guo-ta, this time) and the Imperial Commissioner Proxy (Lin Wu-luo still, although there would be others over the years) sip plum wine and oversee Chi Mu and Chi Ma as they reckoned the tallies on bamboo slips. The Elder and the tenant chiefs were tense until the Chi brothers grinned and nodded that all was well. Then they too imbibed the plum wine. A convivial spirit overtook the hall. Chi Lin watched Jasmine staring at the lady basket anticipating the sound of silver jangling to the bottom. But instead, two sweet buns were set inside. Chi Lin took the basket, nodded to the Elder, and then offered her sister-in-law a bun, which she declined. Chi Lin would save them for her own household, little Butterfly being partial to buns steamed by her own clan. Jasmine marched imperiously back to her chair ordering her porters to return her to the Wu House at once.
Although the company was puzzled by the First Wife’s conduct,
it did not make an impression, not when Mistress Purple Sage was still in their midst, taking a cup of plum wine and nodding to the children. The tour continued to the silk ji-tzao, where Queen Crane not only inspected the industry, but instructed the women on the best method to feed the newly hatched worms and how to coax them to spin the cocoons to a pure white instead of the more natural tawny. It was taxing to be engaged by so many interested folk, but Chi Lin wanted them to think of her when they worked and remember that she would be there again to encourage their best work.
As for Jasmine, her time for touring was over. She never ventured out again under any circumstances. She never made inquiries on the ceremony or asked for the silver or even paid attention to the Wu House’s silk ji-tzao. She just kept to her own sphere of influence, which occasionally nipped at Chi Lin’s toes, but less often now — now that Queen Crane was esteemed by the tenants and the neighbors came to worship the Salt Goddess.
Chapter Two
Chi Lin and the Mei-ren
1
“No bound feet,” the Old Lady of the House muttered to Chi Lin.
Chi Lin listened intently, and then nodded in consent. The Old Lady was dying and everyone knew it, especially the Old Lady. She had been unwell for six moons, losing weight and occasionally suffering pain. The yi-sheng took her pulse and smelled her breath and, although encouraging at first, soon shook his head and told Wu T’ai-po to burn incense and red paper prayers. It was a canker in her belly that consumed her from within. But the herbalists had concoctions to ease the pain and to bring her comfort.
Jasmine deigned to attend her mother-in-law, and even Lotus made an effort to leave her pavilion to pay her respects, but the Old Lady would have none of them. Faithful Willow would attend her needs and, as to company, Purple Sage was her greatest comfort. Chi Lin would sit silently beside the Old Lady and sew, while her mother-in-law watched, smiling at the stitches. Death was never a comfort and Chi Lin had experienced a few recent ones. First, Snapdragon, who passed quietly in her sleep, only to be regaled with a brash interment in the servants’ burial grounds – a memorable affair because few servants had an ironwood coffin and a fine silk shroud. Even Lao Lao when he passed, two moons later, was laid in a simple pine box wrapped in a coarse linen liner. Chi Lin would miss these two old faithfuls. Although Snapdragon was fussy and always under foot, her spidery hands were into Chi Lin’s hair everyday, despite Mi Tso-tze’s need to redo the coif. Chi Lin could not forget that it was Lao Lao who first deigned to speak with her when she came into the cold inner sanctum of the Silver Silence. His cheery voice told her how things were and how they could be. He would be missed. Po Bo was the custodian now, an energetic young scamp, who sprouted to the rafters and sported broad shoulders. Yes, Chi Lin knew death. Even Raisin Cake came to an end one day, found dead beside the pool. Although Chi Lin would replace him and rename every replacement Raisin Cake (burying seven pets by the southern wall) she was always most fond of the first.
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