“So you will disrespect your father’s will?”
“It is my choice. It is his to bless.”
Chi Lin sighed. Her mind raced. The union of a Han woman to a Mongol was acceptable if that family embraced Han ways, Han beliefs and customs. But to join two divergent strands of Heaven under one house might be a precedent the ancestors could not digest. But Chi Lin had no defense against the heartfelt sight she witnessed, an overwhelming spirit of love and affection. Certainly Ai-lo Yun-chi was convicted. He bowed stiffly to Chi Lin, and then left the schoolhouse.
Chi Lin sat beside Jade.
“This is infatuation, surely,” she suggested.
“No, Auntie. I am entirely his to command. I think only of him at all watches of the day and night. I long for his touch. And I am sad to think that duty and custom will keep us apart.” She shook her head. “If I cannot have him, I shall swallow my earrings and be done with it.”
“Foolish talk,” Chi Lin snapped, finally moved to anger. “Do you think that such talk will move anyone to believe you are not churlish? This is the kind of thing expected from Sapphire, but not from you.”
Jade wept, grasping for Chi Lin’s shoulder. Her Auntie gave in. The softness of this beauty nestling in her arms moved Chi Lin to detest her own position as the arbiter of connubial affairs.
“There, there,” she said. “Let me ponder these things.”
“Then you will allow it?” Jade said brightening.”
“I did not say that. If Ai-lo Yun-chi exercises his birthright and chooses you to wife, it must be considered, if not denied. But you must brace yourself for disappointment and follow a course you will not like. You must stay away from him as the events are revealed. Any other course will spoil all chances.”
Jade wept again, but Chi Lin would have her way in this. She restricted Jade to the Crimson Blossom until the Ai-lo family departed. However, Ai-lo Yun-chi did approach his father, who came to Chi Lin and expressed his doubts, but did not rule against the lovers.
“It will be necessary for the daughter of Wu to embrace our ways,” he said.
“I am sure she would cut off her nose and wear a kang board to make it so,” Chi Lin replied. “Praying to an invisible spirit and following a carpenter’s son would be little sacrifice for her. It is how others view it that is worrisome.”
This was true enough. Although daughters were lost to the household and an expense until married, the alliance that marriage formed with other families was important, particularly to the receiving family. It would be so for the Ai-lo clan. However, since this version of marriage was not a family contract, but a compact between two individuals, the traditional exchange of gifts and dowry did not apply. Without a dowry, Jade’s strange marriage arrangement might entice Wu Lin-kua to regard it favorably. In addition, the bond would be with the imperial commissioner’s son, a gesture that would not go unnoticed. It was certainly worthy of discussion. So Ai-lo Wun-kua broached the matter with the Master of the House.
3
Wu Lin-kua listened to the Commissioner, and then summoned his journeymen, who were split on the matter at first. Chi Lin knew of these things from Willow, who attended Honeysuckle within earshot of the ke-ting. The journeymen were acquainted with the Ai-lo household and, in most cases, thought it a worthy one. However, it was brought to Lin-kua’s attention that a union between the two young people might be misconstrued as a product of the increase in the monopoly take, which, of course, it was not. Still the relief of dowry obligation was enticing and one less mouth the feed in the household, although not an imperative, was judicious. Wu Lin-kua was a good brother and, upon hearing that Jade wanted this union, he could not dismiss his sister’s desires, even though her personal feelings did not count in the process.
Wu Lin-kua was inclined favorably to the match until Jasmine heard of it. She demanded an audience with her son.
“Must I remind you, you are your father’s son,” she said sternly. “The House of Wu is the shining star of Yan-cheng. The tenants look up to you as the preserver of continuity and balance. The Mongols are a curse upon the land. That any should remain among us is odd and unnatural. To donate a daughter of the house to the vipers of the past would sully the honor of our house for a thousand years.”
Wu Lin-kua listened silently. His mother had a point, although this was none of her business. He never regarded Ai-lo Wun-kua as any of these things, but perhaps the tenants and his neighbors did.
“It is disreputable,” she continued, “most disreputable to be satisfied with only one wife, to prayer to an odd spirit and to ignore the priests and portents when selecting a bride. It is not done, except by these non-Han creatures.”
When Chi Lin heard of this exchange, her heart sank. Jasmine could bully her sons. They both showed her respect, but they generally followed their own course. Still, this was Jasmine’s most furious argument. To go against it could have consequences. After a time, Chi Lin also had an audience with Wu Lin-kua. She took care not to browbeat him and presented herself as the Auntie, whose business it was to arrange the marriages.
“Auntie,” Wu Lin-kua said. “It is a difficult question to resolve, I must admit. But the decision is mine and must be arrived at with care.”
“It is yours, my lord,” she said. “There are good points on all sides of the argument. Might I suggest you ask the advice of one more senior than you are in our household?”
Wu Lin-kua was grateful for the suggestion and at once dispatched a letter to Wu San-ehr asking for his views. Little did he know Chi Lin had already commissioned her cousin Chi Lu-yi to dispatch her own letter to Wu San-ehr. Chi Lin, in her most flowery hand, composed a poem, and then dovetailed the situation and the advantages of the union with the House of Ai-lo into the word flow. Whereas Wu Lin-kua’s request was a humble gesture for his uncle to guide him, Chi Lin’s was an outright invitation to make the decision.
Baron Ping-an, if nothing else, was decisive and brief. He knew better than to acknowledge Chi Lin’s request, but since it arrived first, it had laid the groundwork for Wu Lin-kua’s epistle. Wu San-ehr’s reply was short and in large, bold characters:
“Proceed with the marriage. No bride price. No dowry.”
Chi Lin was delighted, while Wu Lin-kua was shaken. Of course he followed the directive. Ai-lo Yun-chi was invited to the house, where — in the Blue Fountain Hall, he collected Jade as his wife. Chi Lin and Mi Tso-tze attended to her. The customary red gown had been set aside in favor of a simple red waist skirt, surcoat and shawl, to ward off chill. Wu Lin-kua, Honeysuckle and Willow stood nearby. No priest attended. There was no chair or parade. Bride and groom embraced, and then, lovingly strode back to the courtyard gate and departed for their new life. All the while, Jasmine stood at a safe distance and wailed.
“Shame.”
It was a heartless shout, repeated without relent. The season’s chill was warm compared to it.
“Shame.”
Chi Lin wished to pull her sister-in-law away and shut her in the Blue Heaven Pavilion, but it would provoke an even more heightened and blistering response. So she bore it as did the others. Long after the couple’s departure, Jasmine’s howls remained, into the evening and through the night. When the sun arose, Chi Lin was glad not to hear it again. She went alone to the shrine, warming her aging hands on the incense pots. She prayed to Guan-yin, and then turned to her husband.
“My lord and faithful companion,” she said. “I know your heart as well as you know mine. Your daughter Jade will be happy and no shame has come because your most honorable brother, the baron Ping-an, has seen fit to bless the arrangement. We are all content except for your first wife. I pray you visit her in her dreams and calm her doubts forever.”
She burned her red prayer paper, clapped three times and bowed low. Little did she know that in the darkest hour in the Blue Heaven Hall, her sister-in-law resolved her own doubts and swallowed her earrings, ending her meddling for all times. Once again the House of Wu would
don the white.
Chapter Seven
Siblings
1
Chi Lin was sad. She had never meant for Jasmine to take her own life and felt, if the marriage between Ai-lo Yun-chi and Jade had not been pressed, Jasmine would have lived in her own cantankerous way, but lived she would have. No one blamed Purple Sage nor was any shadow cast over the wedded couple. Wu Lin-kua ordered the household to don white for three months. Jasmine was duly buried in the family cemetery, her icon taking its place in the temple shrine. She was honored as the mother of the household. Chi Lin would not deny her that. However, her saddened state concerned Mi Tso-tze and even Willow; and once Willow had discerned her mood, she mentioned it to Honeysuckle, who in turn told Wu Lin-kua.
The Master of the House paid a visit to the Silver Silence, where he partook of hot tea and cold vegetables, as befitting mourning.
“They say you have not visited the silk ji-tzao in some time, Auntie,” he said. “Am I to be concerned?”
“I will go tomorrow, my lord,” she replied.
He gazed about her ke-ting admiring the many books stacked on tables and shelves.
“The Silver Silence has become a wonder,” he remarked. “Do you still have the first book I gave you?”
“It is a treasure, my lord and a constant companion,” Chi Lin replied.
She proceeded to fetch it, but Wu Lin-kua interrupted her.
“No need, Auntie. No need. I know you cherish words and have made much use of them.”
She returned to her seat, bowing.
“I am sorry that I wrote to Baron Ping-an about Jade’s affair, my lord. It was wrong of me to do so.”
Wu Lin-kua grinned.
“I did not know you had written to him.”
“Please, do not be cross.”
“How can I be? You have been a blessing to this house — a motherly blessing, although you are only my Auntie.” He sipped his tea. “But I sense sadness.”
“I am in mourning, my lord, as you are.”
“True. But my mother was never gracious to my father’s other wives. She was hardly gracious to her children. Yet we respect her.”
“As we should, my lord. But . . .” She hesitated.
“Yes, yes.”
“I fear that my intercession in this last union angered your mother so much so as to give her only one course of action.”
“Nonsense.” He set his cup aside. “She had many choices. She chose her earrings. She could not live with what she perceived as dishonor and set her feelings to rest for all times. We must respect her course and acknowledge her feelings. Her act makes it so. Your unwarranted sadness in this should flee to Heaven with the doves.”
Chi Lin stood, and then curtsied to the Master of the House. He had grown wise, because he had listened to those about him and never acted rashly. She was proud of him.
“There is the question of the Blue Heaven Pavilion, Auntie,” he said. “I know the Silver Silence has become a heart beat in this house, but would you not prefer to move into larger quarters?”
“Forgive me, my lord, but that would insult your mother’s spirit.”
“Perhaps, so. But I cannot leave it standing barren. Perhaps Sapphire could take up a place there.”
“Unwise,” she said, and then returned to her seat, contemplating her own manner. She did not want to lecture the man, and yet she knew he would listen to reason. “That Sapphire is a daughter of Wu would make a move into your mother’s pavilion appropriate, but she will need to leave the household soon. So a move would be an unkindness, encouraging her to a permanent arrangement within these walls.”
“Do you have a match in mind?”
“No, my lord. The matter has fraught Ying Ling. Sapphire’s temperament and the joss sticks have stood against her. In any event, she will need to leave the household or bring dishonor upon these walls.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“I have a notion and no more. When it is a plan, I will present it for your review. As for the Blue Heaven pavilion, perhaps Lotus could expand to fill it.”
Wu Lin-kua laughed.
“I would say Lotus has expanded too much already.” Chi Lin grinned. “See, you smile again, albeit at someone else’s expense, but there is no need for sadness. I will resolve the issue of the Blue Heaven. I only suggested it because your own household will be expanding.”
Chi Lin was taken by surprise. Was he giving her more servants? More cooks? Then she heard his news and was delighted.
2
The Chi clan had become the bulwark of managing the Wu ji-tzao. The accounts were in the good hands of Chi Lin’s brother, Chi Sheng. However, Wu Chou-fa had taken a keen interest in the accounts and more and more began assuming control of them. The second son had a clever head for figures and a good noggin for business. His own villa had expanded and soon rivaled the Wu Homestead, a fact his brother recognized and encouraged. The monopoly boomed between these twin moons. However, with Wu Chou-fa’s increased interest, Chi Sheng’s role lessened. This may have been a boon because, in his crippled state, Chi Sheng’s business undertakings became increasingly burdensome. With his father dead and both sisters out of the household, the place was falling apart. Reports came to the Silver Silence from Chi Lin’s cousins, but there was little Chi Lin could do. She had not seen her brother in over two decades and could not interfere now. So, when Wu Lin-kua announced that her household would be expanding, the last thought she had was that her brother would be coming to live in the Silver Silence.
Workmen were set to converting a portion of the small house adjacent to the root cellar into comfortable quarters. Chi Lin’s heart was set on her brother’s comfort, although she did not know what to expect. She had not seen or spoken to him in so long, she had forgotten what he looked like. But it did not matter. When he arrived, he had aged considerably and resembled their father, Chi Ming. She received him in her ke-ting, but since Chi Sheng could not climb to the verandah without aid, she met him on the porch, Po Bo helping him over the threshold.
“Elder brother,” she said, gasping at his sight.
“Little one,” Chi Sheng replied, holding tightly to Po Bo’s shoulder. Chi Sheng used a crutch and was adept at it, but looked older than his age and was sluggish. “As you can see, the gods have not straightened my legs despite the mountain of red paper burnt to get their attention.”
“Come inside,” Ch Lin said. “Po Bo, ease him into my best chair. Mi Tso-tze, have Mo Li bring tea and Moon Cakes.”
“Moon Cakes?” Chi Sheng snickered. “I am indeed in a fancy house with a mistress of high quality.”
“Nonsense, brother. I am the least in this household — the ghost bride. Recall? The passage of time has improved some things, but I am still a servant to my husband’s spirit.”
“I heard you had a son,” he said.
“Hush,” Chi Lin said, trembling at the words. “My body was a vessel, but now I am a handmaiden to the men of this household. I am Mistress Purple Sage, Auntie to the children of the house.”
“A proper house, indeed,” Chi Sheng said, reclining into the chair. “And what a room — a hall of magnificence with fine furnishings and . . . and books. Is this the Wu family’s library.”
“All that is here belongs to the family, but the books are mine.”
“Yours?”
Chi Sheng grinned.
Chi Lin regarded her brother while Mo Li served tea and Mi Tso-tze offered Moon Cakes. Yu Li was at hand with a cushion, while Po Bo took charge of the crutch. Chi Lin missed this man more than she could admit. He had been always at his studies in the old days, but he also had kind words for her — encouragement, where her sister did not.
“It is an indulgence, I know,” Chi Lin said. “But the old Master of the House was kind and, although the Old Lady of the House objected, he accepted this ghost bride as one who could read and write.”
“Was the Old Lady harsh?”
“She was stern at times, but fair an
d came to regard me with favor, although I never deserved it.”
“Daughters who bear sons always find favor.”
Chi Lin did not respond to this. No one ever referred openly to her motherhood. She could see her servants were nervous about its mention, so to pursue it would only make it worse.
“I am skilled at sewing and know the silk ji-tzao. My touring has found favor with the neighborhood and the tenants, so I have done my share to maintain the Wu family honor.”
“And the Chi family honor also,” Chi Sheng said. “I owe you gratitude for my place in that honor.”
“Be thankful to Wu T’ai-po and the tai-feng for it. I did nothing more than put forth an impertinent idea, which was ignored until time and wind urged it forward. And as for your presence here now, I have had nothing to do with it. That is all on Wu Lin-kua’s threshold.”
Chi Sheng nodded. He reached for his crutch.
“I do not wish to tire you with my chatter, sister,” he said.
“No, no,” she said, alarmed. “I am the better for it.”
“But still . . .”
“Yes. You must take your ease.” She stood, while Po Bo steadied Chi Sheng upon his crutch. “I have had a simple house prepared. The walls are bare, but I am sure it will soon be covered with your brushwork. I have installed a fine writing table and, whatever books you wish, they are here.”
Chi Sheng turned to Po Bo.
“You are a fine fellow,” he said. “What are you called?”
“I am Po Bo, my lord. I am the custodian of the Silver Silence”
“Tush. I am no one’s lord. Your title is higher than mine.”
“Yes, my . . . Yes.
“Can you read?”
“No.”
“I will teach you the shape of the characters.”
“I have no need for them.”
Chi Lin wondered about this. Po Bo was too old to start learning, but her brother grinned.
“This ke-ting is most likely a long walk away the simple house your mistress has prepared for me. When I need a book, you will need to help me cross the courtyard, push me up the stairs, and float me over the threshold, which will be bothersome. So I will show you a character or three — a book title, so you can take it into your head or on paper and match it to a book here, and then fetch it back to me, if you are so inclined.”
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