She could see he was upset, but, as cruel as it was, it was necessary.
“What shall I do, mistress?”
“Resist her calls, except as custodian. Avert your eyes. I will find you someone suitable.”
Po Bo looked up quickly.
“Not Gu Fei or Shan T’o, mistress. I would rather live my life without a wife than have such creatures.”
“No,” she said laughing. “Leave it to me.”
Chi Lin needed to act swiftly, because despite Po Bo’s good intentions to avert eyes and be custodian to Sapphire, Sapphire went out of her way to coax Po Bo into compromising situations.
“I will lose him, Tso-tze,” Chi Lin complained to her handmaiden. “I would summon Ying Ling today to arrange a marriage for Sapphire, but her sisters must come first.”
“Does Po Bo care for Yu Li?” Mi Tso-tze asked.
Little Butterfly was indeed Chi Lin’s chief candidate. However, she was younger than Po Bo by four years.
“We shall see,” Chi Lin said. “We shall see.”
4
Sapphire rarely left the Silver Silence, but one day, when Chi Lin had overheard her toying with Po Bo to the point where the custodian found a corner and wept, she summoned Sapphire.
“You must come with me,” Chi Lin said, sternly.
Mistress Purple Sage was not prone to sternness, but in this case she wanted the girl to be stunned by the tone.
“But Auntie, I am not well.”
“You are well enough. Yu Li will help you don traveling clothes. You shall see another place within the Wu household.”
Sapphire did as she was told. Chi Lin took care as not to stir Jasmine’s hive. But the opportunity was ripe — the Villa, still in restoration’s flux, presented a formidable face to anyone unfamiliar with the outer world. So, with Mi Tso-tze and Yu Li in tow, the carry chairs took the journey to the Villa’s walls. At the sight, Chi Lin had only one feeling — abject sadness. The walls were brighter now and repaired, soldiers on bamboo walks shouldering bricks and cleanser. Still Chi Lin could not shake the sadness.
“What is this place, Auntie?” Sapphire asked.
“It was the house of your uncle, Wu Liang-tze. It will be the house of your brother, Wu Chou-fa. How would you like to live here?”
Sapphire began to weep.
“I have heard of this place, Auntie. There are ghosts here and demons. You would not make me leave the Silver Silence for such a place? You would not?”
“Just take a look,” Chi Lin said.
The porters carried the chairs into the courtyard. Roofs were being repaired, the shrine renewed and servants hurried about preparing for the time when Chou-fa would bring his bride across the threshold. Still, the Cold Palace feeling lingered, the remaining wives, clean now and fed, still drifted about in the shadows like wraiths. Sapphire twitched and continued to weep.
“It is not so bad,” Chi Lin said. “You could have a pavilion of your own and even one for your dolly.”
“And could I come back to visit you?”
“I would try to visit you. Do you like the prospect?”
Sapphire decidedly did not. So Chi Lin gently ordered the chairs turned, but before she ordered their departure, she halted, turning to the daughter of the house.
“Promise me not to abuse my household, Sapphire. Your dolly is a toy, but my custodian is not. He is flesh and blood and sensitive to his duty and loyalty to me. I need his services. But there are places within the house to shelter your moods and fancies other than the Silver Silence. Promise to respect my household.”
“I will, Auntie. I am a good girl.”
Chi Lin knew that this was not the ultimate conversion, because Sapphire’s moods were baked in the marrow, but at least the daughter of the house knew there could be a punishment for her actions despite Jasmine’s objections. Mistress Purple Sage glanced at Mi Tso-tze, who moved the porters forward. Her assistant helped. Chi Lin thought: Yes, it will be Yu Li for Po Bo or the Cold Palace for Sapphire. Such was her resolve.
Chapter Five
Infringement
1
With the marriage bond to the T’ou household concluded and the Second Son with Moon Flower ensconced within the restored Villa, Chi Lin turned to the marriage arrangements for the Wu daughters. There was no rush, because the household bonds were less crucial, and silver would drain from the household coffers. But Chi Lin nonetheless asked Ying Ling to scout a good match for Pearl. It took five moons.
As Ying Ling explained:
“The men of this county are looking for baubles with bound feet, Mistress Purple Sage. It is the fashion. But Pearl has much going for her.”
“Including a large dowry.”
“The larger the better.”
But Chi Lin knew that unbound feet had better advantages in a marriage, so she held out until Ying Ling put forth a match to the Third Son of the Yuan clan, a moderately wealthy family who owned a fleet of transport barges — a handy alliance for the Wu household, who already used Yuan shipping to the capital and to the northern plain for salt. The dowry was stiff and the groom was ten years older than Pearl, but it would be not long before this daughter of the house departed in her bride’s chair as tearfully as Chi Lin had so many years ago. Purple Sage prepared Pearl for the best.
“Your husband is alive,” she said. “And although your father has been a warm spirit to me, I never encountered him in the flesh.”
Jasmine avoided the event as did Lotus, who sent her felicitations, but was too immobile to walk to the courtyard to bid her daughter farewell in person. Jade was sad to see her sister go. She hinted that she should like to wear the red gown soon, but Chi Lin advised her to be patient, that beauty such as yours will seize the heart of many gentry sons.
There were no takers for Sapphire.
On the day when Pearl departed, Chi Lin drifted back to the Silver Silence with Mi Tso-tze and Yu Li in tow. They were greeted on the threshold by Po Bo.
“He is here, mistress.”
“Who is here, Po Bo?”
The last time the custodian had made this announcement, Wu San-ehr had taken his comfort in the Silver Silence’s ke-ting. But it could not be Wu San-ehr, because he was in the north serving Prince Chu Di. Po Bo did not answer, but nodded in the direction of the pavilion. On the verandah sat a wizen man, his head raised and his eyes bright. Chi Lin sighed.
“Tso-tze,” she said.
“Yes, mistress.”
“Take Yu Li to the kitchen.”
Mi Tso-tze curtsied and obeyed. Chi Lin took Po Bo by the arm.
“Where is Sapphire?”
“She is at her place playing with her doll.”
Chi Lin noticed that the courtyard was unusually clear, the servants and workman absent. But it was late in the day and things were winding down. She had invested in the digging of a root cellar near the South wall for vegetables, but also as a shelter in case of another T’ai-feng. The last diggers were just finishing for the day. But when they approached the pavilion, they gave it wide berth having noticed the man resting there.
“This is unusual,” Po Bo said.
“I agree,” Chi Lin replied. She reached the edge of the house. “Stay near, but keep your distance.”
“Yes, mistress.”
With Po Bo hovering on the verge, Chi Lin ascended the verandah, where she paused, and then curtsied.
“Father-in-law,” she said. “You have come.”
“At long last,” he said, his voice broken, shattered by his long life. “It is lovely here. It is as I remember it.”
“I have tried to make it hospitable.”
“You have succeeded, Purple Sage. You have succeeded.”
He nodded. She took the liberty to sit beside him, as she did when he had interviewed her years ago in his ke-ting. He smiled and closed his eyes.
“I see her, you know.”
“She was fair, I have been told.”
“Yes, Snapdragon would have describe
d her beauty to you. Lao Lao would have told you of her kindness.” He sighed. “She was a mighty acquisition and gave me my happiest hours, not that the First Wife disappointed as the mother of my sons. But the industry of the Jade Heart Pavilion gives way to the poetry of the Silver Silence. Songs graced the air and the sound of the water cascading from the great rock into the pool eased my days.” He sighed again. “Eased my days.”
Chi Lin could see the Second Wife, although she had never known her. She could imagine her form, but knew well her robes as they had graced her own body for years. The perfumed air then was as it was now, and Snapdragon combing tresses and Lao Lao telling his tales filled the courtyard with life beyond death.
Chi Lin heard the gentle sighs of her father-in-law give way to snores. He was beyond her now — in the arms of the fairy form who once ruled the Silver Silence. Chi Lin was glad that the place had been restored to his liking and that it pleased him. She tapped his arm, hoping to wake him and offer him some tea, but he did not stir. His snoring was less, and his breathing subtle, if at all. She knew that when the sun set beyond the western wall, Wu T’ai-po would join his lost love. The household would be donning the white once gain.
2
All things come to an end. As it is with the masters of great houses, it is with the rulers of great Empires. Thus the Hung Wu reign period ended when the founder of the Ming perished. The dragon throne passed to his grandson and the Chien Wen reign period commenced. It was declared throughout the land and in Yan-cheng it was no different. Walls were plastered with broadsides proclaiming the new emperor, who was a boy of seventeen summers and quite fixed on keeping his throne against the odds of several uncles, the sons of the Hung Wu emperor. In fact, beside the broadsides were lists of crimes committed by the Imperial uncles and how they were among the worst demons in the land. This included Prince Chu Di. It was clear to anyone who could read that the emperor’s uncles were not long for this world.
Although Chi Lin could read, such imperial announcements meant little to her. Emperors came and went. However, a visit to the Ya-men told her a different story. Ai-lo Wun-kua was concerned for the salt monopoly certificates. He explained that the House of Wu was bonded to Prince Chu Di by dint of Wu San-ehr. If the new emperor wanted to disturb his uncle’s bailiwick, he could revoke the monopoly certificates and reassign them to another family. This made Chi Lin anxious. Still it was not her business to resolve or even discuss such rumors, even with Wu Lin-kua, who she hoped was astute enough to work out the dangers for himself. In either event, as long as the Wu donned the white, the dynasty would respect them and not bring change.
There had been many changes over the years in Yan-cheng’s governance also. P’o T’ai-kuan was no longer the Superintendent. He was reassigned to Hu-t’ai county in An-hui. The new Superintendent, Chou Mai-xin, was of an active breed, keeping regulated hours for his magisterial duties and a sharp review of memorials and other requests. But he was aloof otherwise, never visiting the Wu Household or any other household at Yan-cheng. If you wanted official business transacted, you needed an appointment and a purse for the clerks. Whenever Chi Lin visited Ai-lo Wun-kua and his family, Chou Mai-xin would look down from the parapet and sneer. Clearly a woman in the Ya-men was against his views. But the Imperial Commissioner had the right to guests, so this sanction did not go beyond a sneer.
Chi Lin enjoyed Ai-lo Wun-kua’s company. They discussed the classics and sometimes he would allude to the central book of his own beliefs, which Chi Lin did not understand. It was quite unstructured, commencing with four fairy tales about a carpenter’s son who became a teacher, but for some unfathomable reason willingly died for his teachings. They were inoffensive teachings, or so Chi Lin surmised, but he died nonetheless and then, like a jiang-shi, the hopping corpse walker, came back from the dead. The rest of the book was letters from followers of the invisible god and the jiang-shi. She did not care for the book. It lacked the beautiful logic of the Classics, but she respected the Ai-lo for their dedication to it. They did not pray at an ancestral shrine, but prayed when and where they wanted, even in the outhouse. They prepared their food with care and avoided pig flesh and shellfish. Ai-lo Wun-kua only had one wife and would not take another as this strange invisible-god belief forbade him. What mystified Chi Lin most was that the eldest son was not married, and yet the second son sought a wife, and not through the mei-ren, but by his own acquaintance. It was a puzzlement, but she respected it.
Ai-lo Wun-kua was worried about the new emperor, who was surrounded, according to court gossip, by eunuchs — eunuchs who mistrusted a Mongol to administer either the salt or iron monopoly. Chi Lin’s father once said Ai-lo Wun-kua should wear an owl on his shoulder, an anxious but wise course if he wanted to keep his position. Now Prince Chu Di was marching on the capital, presumably to protect the young emperor from the controlling courtiers.
“I have met the Prince,” Ai-lo Wun-kua told Chi Lin. “He is not a man to mollify a boy of seventeen summers and leave him sitting on the throne. You must not tell others, but if the Prince controls the capital, the monopoly will be safe.”
Chi Lin wished Prince Chu Di well and would burn some red paper prayers for him. He was Wu San-ehr’s liege lord after all. But Ai-lo Wun-kua feared that the young emperor would not sit still for control.
“His forces have defeated Prince Chu Chuan and now those armies fight under the Chien Wen banner and might be marching through our county soon. That you should tell your Master of the House.”
Mistress Purple Sage took the Commissioner’s advice. She told Wu Lin-kua about the imperial army and, to her delight, he had already known.
“Do not concern yourself with this business, Auntie,” he said. “You arrange marriages and keep us honest in our industrial ventures — you and the Chi clan. I will not expect you to stand guard at the gate with a halberd. I have journeymen for that.”
Journeymen he had. Under his father, there were sixteen, but now there were over forty — enough men to defend the Wu walls if need be. Enough men to stave off any incursion into the ji-tzao. So Chi Lin retired to her tasks quite content that Wu Lin-kua was indeed the Master of the House.
3
“The sky bleeds, mistress,” Po Bo shouted at the threshold.
It was evening and Chi Lin rested, reading a commentary on the Book of Changes. She sat with Raisin Cake in her lap, the dog yelping upon hearing Po Bo’s cry. Soon Mi Tso-tze and Yu Li stirred, rushing to the door and gazing at the sky. The courtyard was filled with much discussion. Chi Lin pushed Raisin Cake aside, rolled the book up, carefully tying both fasteners, and then she went to the threshold calmly, but with resolve.
“See, mistress,” Po Bo stammered. “The sky bleeds.”
Chi Lin peered up, and then moved onto the verandah to get a better view. The sky had turned red, but, near the horizon, just over the wall, it flared orange and tinged yellow.
“It is fire, Po Bo.” She looked at her servants huddling in the courtyard. “It is only fire,” she announced. “It is too distant to burn us.”
But despite her attempt to reassure her staff, her words did not reassure herself. Fire at a distance it may be, but it came from the town and was near enough to be assessed as the Ya-men. The market could catch fire from any number of causes, but the Ya-men had vigorous routines to prevent such calamities. She suspected this was not an accidental fire, but a deliberate act of opportunity.
“It is the Ya-men, is it not, mistress?” Tso-tze said, quietly so as not to alarm Yu Li or the others.
“I cannot speculate, Tso-tze, but let us hope it is some trick of the eyes.”
Chi Lin gathered her staff about her, and then went to the Jade Heart. She reasoned that the entire family should be assembled now to assuage fear and consternation. In this she was correct. Wu Lin-kua had already emerged from his pavilion with his journeymen at hand. The new Lady of the House stood by his side. Even Jasmine and her entourage tripped over the boardwalk from the Blue Heaven Pa
vilion to see what was amiss. She went to her son, curtsied, and then took up a position of authority. Chi Lin could only wait for Lin-kua’s instructions. But before they could come, the outer gate opened, revealing the tall form of the Imperial Commissioner on the threshold. His entire family stood behind him. They were scantily clad, their faces smudged with ash. In the street several servants nervously tended two ox-carts.
Wu Lin-kua greeted his visitors, the Wu household drifting into the courtyard behind him, buzzing with discussion.
“What has happened, neighbor?” Wu Lin-kua asked Ai-lo Wun-kua.
“Misfortune,” the Commissioner replied, his voice calm as if he was returning a greeting on the street. “Misery visits all lives in each life, and so it has come to my family.”
“Enter,” Wu Lin-kua said.
“If I enter,” Ai-lo said, “accept the recriminations.”
“How can it be?” Lin-kua replied. “You are the Commissioner and I am the monopoly holder. What better fit can there be?”
“That is true when times resist change, but I hold my warrant by a thin hair.”
“Has the Ya-men burned?”
“Not entirely. But my portion is ruined. Imperial troops have skirmished with the army of Prince Chu Di. I am not sure who has the upper hand, but His Majesty’s army retreated and, in their wake, sent me a message from the court.”
Ai-lo Wun-kua held up his hand. It was wrapped in green silk, but Chi Lin could clearly see it had been burnt.
“But have they retreated?” Wu Lin-kua asked.
“They have. They may return. Assassins might try their best. Until then, we are free to live in any salt ji-tzao that would chance our hiding.”
“Nonsense,” Lin-kua said.
Jasmine stepped forward. She did not say a word, but stared at her son with venomous intent. Chi Lin saw that the First Wife was dead set against this non-Han family from entering the house. Still, Jasmine dared not speak. But Chi Lin was beyond such feeble restraint. She also stepped forward and stood beside Jasmine. Wu Li-kua frowned — at both women, no doubt.
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