“May I be so bold?” Chi Lin asked, her voice sweet and charming.
“You may not,” Jasmine snapped.
Lin-kua shook his head. Such a tense display would bring shame on the house if revealed so openly and before the neighbors.
“It is a mere observation,” Chi Lin said. “One of neighborly good feeling.”
She curtsied to Wu Lin-kua. Then to everyone’s surprise, Honeysuckle stepped forward.
“I would like to hear what you want to say, Auntie Purple Sage.”
Wu Lin-kua’s breath hitched, but Chi Lin did not allow for his further intervention. She curtsied to Honeysuckle.
“It is just a matter of logistics. Why should we house guests of quality in our courtyard where the nights are cold and the days are brazen? I have nearly completed the cellar in the Silver Silence. It would be happy to accommodate so high a personage as the Imperial Commissioner.”
She concluded with a deep curtsey, Tso-tze and Yu Li also following her lead. She even thought Po Bo made a half-bow. Jasmine scrunched her shoulders, and then turned away. Honeysuckle seemed pleased. Wu Lin-kua sighed, but then assumed a hospitable pose.
“Then it is settled,” he said. “You are welcome to stay here until your house is repaired and your position is settled. As you can see, I am fortunate to have a stream of useful suggestions from the womenfolk in this household. But the decision is mine, and I have made it.”
Ai-lo Wun-kua accepted it. The family entered and the ox-carts rolled in. To Chi Lin’s delight, the carts contained mounds of books that would have been otherwise burned. These found a home in the Silver Silence’s ke-ting which more and more resembled a library than a drawing room. Chi Lin was also happy for Ai-lo Wun-kua’s company and for that of his wife. The children were all adults now and none were married yet, following their beliefs — all in good time and when their invisible god saw fit. There were two sons and four daughters, all well behaved, soft spoken and dutiful to their parents and their religious rites. The root cellar was a perfect shelter to keep their practices private and away from curious eyes. Among the carrots and mung beans, they managed to create a temporary household.
Ai-lo Wun-kua explained many things to Chi Lin. She listened and learned, but kept her opinions to herself — mostly. She was not surprised that the superintendent, Chou Mai-xin, had not raised a hand to help the Mongol commissioner, probably assuming that if the Chien Wen Emperor kept his throne, he would not support any superintendent that gave aid to a deposed official. Still, Chou Mai-xin had agreed to help in the restoration of the commissioner’s house, a slow task that could bide time while he monitored the political winds. Had the Chien Wen Emperor prevailed, he could claim the house was a guest pavilion, certainly in need of restoration. If the Chien Wen Emperor fell, the superintendent could report to the victor that he was in full support of Ai-lo Wun-kua. Chou Mai-xin was a crafty beast.
“He plays the game,” Ai-lo Wun-kua told Chi Lin, “but not well. A new commissioner would see through it and have him reported, and, if Prince Chu Di prevails, he will have his head on the Ya-men gates.”
Still, one night an Imperial envoy banged at the Wu House gates demanding information on the whereabouts of a fugitive Mongol official, who was known to be hiding in the county. Of course, Wu Lin-kua denied any knowledge and allowed the envoy and his men to enter and search. And search they did. Po Bo, who happened to be in the Jade Heart, was told to rush to the Silver Silence and give them warning. Wu Lin-kua then summoned his mother to the Jade Heart, where he had Honeysuckle and Willow whisk her from room to room avoiding the envoy and his guard least she speak and reveal the hiding place, which she would have, given the chance. Chi Lin, Po Bo and Tso-tze rushed into the cellar, where Ai-lo Wun-kua and his family were transformed into kitchen servants, donning old robes and sack hats, while their finery was stuffed quickly into the world of turnips and sorghum. The cellar was sealed as best as possible. The envoy, who searched every nook of the above ground Silver Silence, never guessed that Mongol rabbits and voles hid nervously underground awaiting the inspection to be completed.
While Ai-lo Wun-kua survived such infringements, Chi Lin was frazzled by them. She was also shaken by Jasmine’s daily visits to the Silver Silence. The First Wife had not visited the pavilion in years, but now she made it a point to come and observe. When she entered the courtyard, the servants would scatter as if a dragon invaded the precinct looking for a sacrifice. Purple Sage could not ask her to leave. It would have been improper. But it was clear that Jasmine did not care about Purple Sage and the Silver Silence. She wanted to monitor the Commissioner and his family.
“Why is your eldest son still unmarried?” she snapped at Ai-lo Wun-kua as he passed her going toward the ke-ting for his daily discussion with Chi Lin, who stood quietly on the threshold and listened.
“Good day to you, mistress,” he said politely, bowing. “The sun is bright today, do you not think?”
“Is that why he has no wife and why you have only one wife?”
“There is a place for all beliefs under Heaven, mistress.”
“When you walk in the open fields and practice heresy, it will be visited upon you and you only. But when you live under a Han roof, that roof is bound to cave in.”
“Roofs cave in for many reasons, mistress. Storms, design faults, old age, but in my experience, taking only one wife or not marrying at all is not among them.”
“All things depend on all things. You cannot move one rock without disturbing the one above it.”
“Then, I promise you, mistress, I shall be careful when I visit a quarry.”
He turned his back on her. She spit, but managed a last word.
“Your kind ruled us for too long. We were rid of you. We would be rid of you yet again.”
Ai-lo Wun-kua halted. He turned slowly, caching Jasmine’s eye.
“My kind never ruled you,” he said, more sternly. “We were overcome by the golden river of your culture, but never mastered the black iron of your rule. Our ways conquered, but failed in the governance. But I believe that all under Heaven would fail in governing you.”
He turned about and marched to the verandah. Jasmine cursed him, and then left the Silver Silence. Chi Lin emerged onto the porch.
“I wish I could stand up to her like you have,” she said to Ai-lo Wun-kua. “But she is the First Wife and I am the Fourth Wife — a ghost bride and Auntie to the children, even to my own . . .” She choked. “No matter. Perhaps your words might scare her away.”
“I am afraid she will be back tomorrow looking to engage me again, or my old lady or my eldest son. She is a spider, mistress. She weaves a web for one purpose only. To feed on those beneath her superior eyes. But my invisible God says when you cast buns on the river it returns to you many times over. In the First Wife’s case, the bun is stale and the river will dry up leaving her parched in the shallows.”
Chi Lin was enlivened by such talk, but she wished it was not inspired by her sister-in-law. Still, despite Ai-lo Wun-kua’s rejection of fallen roofs for superstitious reasons, there would be consequences for his infringement on the House of Wu’s hospitality.
Chapter Six
A Different Arrangement
1
Both Ai-lo brothers were handsome, or so Chi Lin assessed, which made them pleasant to observe and gentle company. Neither smacked of Mongol rough house nor the smell of the northlands. Neither had ever been outside the county and, strict to their parent’s beliefs, found pride in a quiet existence — studious, pious and industrious, aiding their father in his commissioner’s work, obliterating the need for a proxy. Their comeliness also brought anxious moments, because it sparked Sapphire to flirt, especially with the eldest son, Ai-lo Tu-fan. But he showed no interest in her. He was polite, listened to her abysmal chatter about nothing of importance, and then would leave her company — Sapphire sometimes pouting for the rest of the afternoon. This did not escape Chi Lin’s attention or Po Bo’s. As a result
, the custodian performed his duties in relation to the guests, but did so with grumbles and sharp asides. Chi Lin knew the cause.
Chi Lin wondered about the first son, because he was not married. Although his ways did not insist upon marriage, there were few yi-shen families in the county with available daughters. If Ai-lo Wun-kua wanted to continue his line, he would need to send Ai-lo Tu-fan to the capital, where a yi-shen enclave thrived. But perhaps Tu-fan was disinclined to do so. Perhaps he preferred a cut-sleeve affair and to share a peach with a young gentleman. Although Chi Lin never broached the issue, she perceived the Commissioner was not well disposed to such arrangements. She supposed that if he were, as long as his son did his duty and preserved the line, a cut-sleeve affair might be sanctioned. There was, however, no question about the second son, Ai-lo Yun-chi.
Ai-lo Yun-chi was of an easier spirit. When Sapphire failed to provoke a favorable response from Ai-lo Tu-fan, she shifted her attentions to Ai-lo Yun-chi. He played her game to the extent that he told her silly stories and made her laugh. When she flirted with him, he responded in kind, but never to an extent to worry Chi Lin. She could tell a gentleman’s banter from overtures of love. However, Sapphire was not as astute. She began to follow the second son around, until he did change his posture to that of his brother’s.
“Move her to the Villa, mistress,” Mi Tso-tze suggested. “She is sillier by the day and to risk anything more would cause gossip.”
Chi Lin wondered. Gossip was bearable. She had learned how to ignore it. But gossip also brought Jasmine on its heels. She thought to ask Wu Lin-kua if perhaps Sapphire could visit her brother at the Villa, at least until the danger to the Ai-lo clan passed. Speaking to Sapphire was useless. She lived more and more in her own world. Then an idea came. Chi Lin visited with her sister-in-law Lotus after an afternoon of feeding the worms. In the Crimson Blossom Pavilion, the hulky Second Wife enjoyed her idyllic existence — ingesting delicacies and basking in sleep’s glory. She was courteous to Mistress Purple Sage and most likely enjoyed the deference displayed. But Chi Lin was there to consult with Jade, who managed to find patience under her mother’s roof.
“Is it time for my marriage, Auntie?” Jade asked. “Is that why you have come?”
“Your time will come soon. I am here on a different matter.”
Jade was a pretty woman, gracious and polite to a fault. She nodded, waiting for the matter to be broached. Chi Lin returned the nod, and then looked toward Lotus, who snored gently.
“I wish you to visit the Silver Silence more often.”
“I shall come.”
“In fact, if you could come daily and keep your sister company.”
Jade frowned, but then recovered.
“I can come, but Sapphire sometimes does not like company. Our conversation will run dry and we will sit in silence until she tires of me.”
“To that I have a remedy.” Chi Lin moved closer. “You can sew together — shoes are needed for your brother’s first son and, now that the Lady of the House is big again with child, more shoes will be needed. Even Moon Flower shows signs. You know many delicate stitches and can teach Sapphire the way. She can stand improvements. And while you sew, you can chatter and sing and even play games. How would you like that?”
“If it pleases you, Auntie. But if it does not please Sapphire . . .”
“When she drifts to her moods, you shall come sit with me. I will read to you.”
Jade grinned, and it became so. Jade came the next day and the next and, although Sapphire was disinclined at first, she soon went along with the arrangement, learning the stitches and mimicking her sister’s singing.
“The issue is solved,” Chi Lin told Mi Tso-tze, who listened, but did not comment, because she had already seen the signs.
After a week, Chi Lin saw the signs also. Ai-lo Yun-chi, who had been avoiding Sapphire suddenly stood at a distance and observed the two sisters as they laughed and sang and worked. He did not approach, at first, but then he introduced himself to Jade one evening as she retreated from the courtyard to her place in the Crimson Blossom. It seemed a harmless dalliance, well within the realm of politeness. Chi Lin thought nothing of it, at first, but as the weeks passed, Ai-lo Yun-chi intercepted Jade more often. When Sapphire had a mood shift and Jade sought her Auntie for some reading, Yun-chi managed to detain her. They walked together near the pool, sitting at the base, with Raisin Cake barking about their feet. Their conversation soon turned to laughter.
“Mistress,” Mi Tso-tze said, looking out the window. “Here is a picture of domestic life.”
Chi Lin knew what she meant. It troubled her. While Sapphire was a vixen with feminine wiles wasted on most men, Jade seemed more impressionable — fragile enough to fall for a handsome face with prospects. However, a Mongol son and worshipper of the yi-shen was hardly a prospect.
“I will ask her to come less frequently,” Chi Lin said.
“But what of Sapphire?”
Yes, indeed. What of Sapphire? But better one unsolved problem than two. However, before Chi Lin could intervene, circumstances came to her rescue.
2
The Imperial Reign Period changed once again. Chien Wen was gone, the young emperor disappearing into the bowels of protective custody, although some speculated that he dwelled in death’s arms. His uncle Prince Chu Di was now Emperor and declared the Yung Lo Reign Period. Once again the broadsides were plastered on walls. Once again the heralds announced the beginning of a great era of peace and prosperity. Once again, politics changed course, but this time in favor of such things as salt and iron monopolies. Superintendent Chou Mai-xin now knew which way the wind blew and announced the restoration of the Commissioner’s house inviting Ai-lo Wun-kua to return and inspect his reconstructed quarters. And Wu San-ehr, although wounded in battle, was rewarded by his liege-lord and made the Baron of Jin-kua county with a promise of a villa once the capital was moved from Nan-jing to Yen, a placed now renamed Bei-jing. This was a blessing to the Wu household now that Uncle Wu San-ehr was Baron Ping-an.
Chi Lin was happy for the household, but was also glad the Ai-lo brothers would be moving from the Silver Silence back to the Ya-men. She would miss Ai-lo Wun-kua’s company and his wife’s, but it was inevitable. The Imperial Commissioner was a generous man and, as a reward for Wu Lin-kua’s hospitality, he increased the Wu’s income on the monopoly by twelve percent, which was within his authority to do so. He also gave Chi Lin a great gift.
“I shall leave my books here in the Silver Silence as a library,” he said to Chi Lin.
“But they are your books.”
“They are your books now — a repository of knowledge to feed your insatiable mind and to flourish in the House of Wu for ten thousand generations. I shall buy more books and, if I need to resort to these for reference, I shall pay you a visit, which will be my great pleasure.”
Chi Lin nearly swooned at this gift. The books were a treasure beyond reckoning. The children would surely benefit, even the girls when they were born, because she meant to petition Wu Lin-kua at the appropriate time to allow all Wu women to learn to read and write. Jasmine would be prejudiced against it, but no matter. Chi Lin would press her cause when the time came. However, the time had come for Ai-lo Yun-chi to depart and, for that, Chi Lin was grateful. She had no dislike for the man, but she wished to avoid the spike of his continued presence.
One late afternoon, before the Ai-lo had departed, Chi Lin went to inspect the silk ji-tzao. She passed the new school house, which was not often in use — Wu Tien-po being still a toddler and teacher Lu Wen-wei in temporary residence. Autumn was nipping at her heels, Mi Tso-tze trying her best to keep a shawl tacked over her mistress’ robe. The school house door was covered with a stiff silk drape, the wind shifting it slightly askew. Chi Lin halted and approached, meaning to straighten it. She did so, but then stopped and listened. She heard sounds within.
“What is it, mistress?” Tso-tze asked.
Chi Lin did not
reply, but listened to the voices — whispers and soft shifting sounds of silk. Pushing the curtain aside, she was both astounded and embarrassed. Ai-lo Yun-chi and Jade were facing each other in the grips of an embrace. They stirred when Chi Lin entered, pushing each other aside.
“Auntie,” Jade said, a quiver in her voice.
Chi Lin remained silent. Then Mi Tso-tze entered.
“What is amiss, mistress? What is . . .”
Mi Tso-tze stammered, turned about, and then returned to the boardwalk.
“Mistress Purple Sage,” Ai-lo Yun-chi said, bowing low. “Forgive us. We were compelled.”
Chi Lin kept her silence, be approached with measured steps. Jade turned away, but Ai-lo Yun-chi faced her squarely.
“It is not as it appears,” he said.
“Can it be anything other than what I see?” Chi Lin replied, finally.
“Do not tell brother,” Jade pleaded. “It was merely fondling.”
“A gentleman in my household chooses as he will,” Yun-chi stated justifying his case. “It is commonplace.”
“If it were commonplace, sir,” Chi Lin chided, still gently, “you would not have recourse to the shadows. If you were making a choice, you would consult Wu Lin-kua and follow his judgment in the case.”
Ai-lo Yun-chi stood.
“It shall be so,” he said, nodding sharply.
“I would wait on that course,” Chi Lin suggested. “I am the arranger in such matters in the Wu Household.”
“Auntie,” Jade said, reaching toward her. “Auntie, please. I know you must seek Ying Ling as a go-between and she will find me a husband in a county household. But now I could not bear it. I could not.”
She wept. Chi Lin gazed at Ai-lo Yun-chi.
“Does your father know your heart?”
“He will be consulted,” Yun-chi said. “He will prefer me to seek a wife in Nan-jing among the believers, but I will have Jade or no other.”
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