Chapter 4
Meilin
Ailin was smiling more than usual, especially when she thought no one was looking. She was smiling now as she painted tapered leaves onto a scroll of silk, perfectly capturing the elegance of the bamboo in the garden.
Meilin chuckled to herself as she let her fingers glide over her zither strings.
She would have to be a fool not to notice the signs of her older sister falling in love, and Ailin clearly underestimated Meilin’s ability to play the zither while keeping an eye on the person seated next to her.
After years of zither practice, Meilin could play “High Mountains and Flowing Water” flawlessly without a second thought.
As the last note of her song faded, a man walked into the bamboo garden.
“Your playing is lovely, Miss Meilin,” Enze said politely as he approached.
Because he avoided looking at Ailin, his purpose was as clear as sugar syrup.
He was never this nervous in front of anyone else, not while chatting with Mama and definitely not when losing wéiqí games to Ming-ming.
Feeling quite generous, Meilin forgave his awkwardness since it stemmed from his admiration for Ailin.
Ailin responded to Enze’s arrival by setting her brush down. The bamboo handle settled on the porcelain brush holder with a gentle clink, but Ailin herself remained silent. She was as turtle-like as Enze when they were together. Maybe that was why they liked each other so much.
“Did you recognize the song?” Meilin asked Enze brightly, hoping that a cheerful group conversation might draw Ailin and Enze out of their shells. As much as they liked each other tacitly, their affection could not grow without conversation.
“I’m afraid I’m not very well-versed in music,” Enze said as he looked down.
Meilin was glad he was looking away so she didn’t have to hide her disappointment.
She had given him a prime opportunity to show off his erudition in front of her sister.
“High Mountains and Flowing Water” described the friendship between the legendary zitherist Bóyá and the woodcutter Zǐqī, two people who understood each other perfectly, true zhīyīn.
The song was also one of the most famous in existence.
If Enze couldn’t talk about music, then she needed to shift the conversation toward a topic on which he could speak more eloquently.
Only by helping Ailin and Enze thoroughly fall in love could she guarantee Ailin’s happiness after marriage.
“How do you feel about art?” Meilin swept her arm toward Ailin’s table, ignoring Ailin’s warning glare that pierced the side of her head like flying daggers. Ailin acted like she hated the attention, but Meilin’s actions were for her good.
“Miss Duan is very talented,” Enze said as politely as when he complimented Meilin’s zither performance.
Surely, the man could express himself stronger than that! “What about her painting speaks to you?” Meilin pressed.
He hesitated. “Um, I’m not sure I understand the question, but I think the bamboo in the painting looks like the bamboo in this garden and . . . it’s pretty.”
“That’s it?”
“Very pretty?”
Meilin was appalled. He could have commented on any aspect of Ailin’s painting—the stunning composition, the decisive brush work, the elegant subject matter.
Bamboo represented resilience and integrity, easy symbolism to discuss, yet all he could say was that it was pretty?
Did he speak like this when he was alone with Ailin, or was he inhibited because of Meilin’s presence?
“Thank you for your praise, Master Fan,” Ailin said calmly.
Meilin was somewhat surprised, but not unpleasantly, to see that, despite her passionless tone, Ailin’s face glowed as pink as sunset. She herself could never settle for an affection as muted as theirs; maybe there was more to Ailin and Enze’s love than Meilin could understand.
Enze visibly relaxed once Ailin spoke. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “If I may, Miss Duan, last week you mentioned that you would be willing to read some of my practice exam essays.”
Meilin had been present when Ailin made the offer.
They were passing over a footbridge, and Heli had been dragging Enze toward the pavilion by the koi pond to play wéiqí with Ming-ming.
Ailin had said only a few fleeting words to him then, so it was satisfying to see him take their brief conversation to heart.
“I’m honored that you’re trusting me with your writing,” Ailin said as she took the pages.
Enze smiled. “I’m grateful that you’re willing to read my rough drafts.”
Meilin’s heart softened at their tenderness with each other. Even if she couldn’t understand the reasons for their reserve, their compatibility was obvious. Ailin was in love, and Meilin would do all in her power to make sure her sister could marry the man she loved.
One afternoon while Ming-ming was picking persimmons with Begonia and Ailin was busy painting, Meilin took on the role of Mama’s sewing assistant.
Though their family would be wearing mourning white for two more years, clothing still needed to be mended, and shoes still needed to be made.
Thankfully, the stool next to Mama’s six-post canopy bed occupied a cozy spot next to a bronze brazier.
Mama had been harder to approach since Father’s passing because she was so overwhelmed by grief, but the space near her side had been a place of comfort when Meilin was small, and Meilin was glad it was becoming that way again since Enze’s arrival at Nuolan Garden.
They chatted easily while they sewed. Mama was repairing a blouse, while Meilin was working on a shoe sole for Ming-ming.
With unbound feet and an even wilder disposition than Meilin, Ming-ming wore out slippers quicker than anyone else in the house.
Luckily, Meilin could help Mama with Ming-ming’s shoes because Ming-ming was still young enough that her shoes simply needed to be functional, not beautiful.
When Mama asked for help threading a particularly narrow needle, Meilin saw the perfect opportunity to ask the question she had been thinking for a while. “When do you think we can start planning for Ailin and Enze’s wedding?”
Mama smiled wide, looking younger than she had in months. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. They are a good match, aren’t they?”
“Exactly!” Meilin threaded the needle in one try, grateful that she and Mama were in agreement.
Mama accepted the threaded needle and began fixing a broken seam.
As she got further down the row of stitches, however, she slowed her pace.
“I do wonder how long we should wait before talking to Junyou about the match. Our family is still in mourning, and Enze needs to focus on the imperial exams.”
“But I’ve never seen Ailin happier,” Meilin argued. “We need to make sure she is officially betrothed to Enze before Junyou pushes another thoughtless pick on her again.”
Mama kept sewing. “That may be true, but there may also be virtue in waiting. Enze’s current family circumstances don’t allow him to marry as he chooses, but if he passes the provincial exam next year, that difficulty would melt away.”
A knock sounded outside the door.
“Madame Duan, Madame Fulan is here to see you.” The maid’s Hangzhou accent meant she was a servant Fan Fulan brought when she moved into Nuolan Garden.
“What should we do?” Meilin whispered to her mother, hoping they could pretend they weren’t in.
Mama set her sewing down on her bed as she rose, motioning for Meilin to do the same. “Let’s see what she wants.”
Meilin brushed the stray threads and fabric scraps off her dress and went ahead of Mama to open the door. Fan Fulan greeted them with a serpentine smile. Behind her was a maid carrying a tray with a small teapot and teacups.
Fan Fulan gave a shallow curtsy to Mama. “I hope this visit finds you well, Madame Duan. May we come in to bring you tea?”
Meilin’s caution rose as she looked toward her mother. This visit was odd. Serving tea to one’s elders was a standard courtesy expected of daughters-in-law, but Fan Fulan rarely observed the etiquette.
“It’s good of you to visit,” Mama said kindly as she led Fan Fulan and the maid into her room. She motioned to a pair of square-backed chairs much more formal than Meilin’s stool. “Please sit.”
Fan Fulan took the teapot from the maid’s tray and poured tea into a cup.
She handed the cup to Mama with both hands and took a seat before launching into an affected voice of agony.
“I’m so grateful you are willing to see me today, Madame Duan.
The reason I came is because I was hoping to access the wisdom of your advanced years. I’m afraid I’m in dire need of advice.”
“I don’t know how useful my advice will be, but I am happy to listen,” Mama said, taking a sip of tea.
Meilin stood behind her, keeping her eyes on Fan Fulan. She usually visited to deliver threats, not to seek wisdom.
“I have been terribly worried about my brother Enze lately. You know how dear he is to me. The Fan family quite depends on him to succeed in next year’s exams, yet I worry that he has been getting distracted from his studies.”
“That’s impossible,” Mama said with conviction, holding the teacup steady in her hands. “I have seen for myself what a diligent student Enze is. You have no need to worry.”
“And yet I do worry.” Fan Fulan laid a hand on her chest while furrowing her brows in a third-rate attempt at acting.
“Oh, Madame Duan, if you have additional insight, please illuminate me. You see, this morning I was tidying his room when I saw some of his papers. And on those papers, next to his solid, upright handwriting, there was the crooked, flowery script of a woman! I fear there may be a fox spirit in this house who is trying to steal his heart.”
“What are you saying?” Meilin’s ears buzzed like wasps. The audacity of Fan Fulan! She was clearly snooping among Enze’s belongings. And who was she accusing of being a fox spirit?
The woman blew on her cup as if to cool her tea, her long lashes catching the curling steam as it rose.
“My younger brother not only has a duty to become a successful scholar but also to carry on the family line with a bride of our parents’ choosing.
Since both our father and mother are deceased, it is only proper that we follow the wishes they made clear before they passed, is it not? ”
Fan Fulan paused as if for dramatic effect.
“Their greatest wish was to unite our family with their closest friends, the Mo family of Hangzhou. Do you understand why I am so anxious about my little brother, Madame Duan? I feel that anyone who goes against the wishes of the dead is sure to incur heaven’s wrath, don’t you agree?”
Heaven was not to be spoken of lightly. By invoking both the dead and heaven’s wrath, Fan Fulan might as well have been cursing. This was no way to speak to her elder.
Mama said nothing, but her fingers wrapped so tightly around her teacup that her knuckles turned white.
Fan Fulan sipped her tea noisily before flashing a smile. Unlike her earlier show, this expression looked genuine. “You know, I feel much better after our chat. Thank you for listening, Madame Duan.”
Mama sat motionless as Fan Fulan and her maid swept out of the room. Once they were gone, she began shaking. Meilin hurried to take her cup before the hot tea could spill. Despite the heat of the porcelain, Mama’s hands were cold.
“Mama, are you all right?” Dumb question. How could anyone be fine after such an insult? Had Fan Fulan really accused Ailin of being a fox spirit? Conscientious and courteous Ailin? Meilin wanted to run after Fulan and give her sister-in-law a piece of her mind, but Mama needed her more.
The cracked sound of Mama’s breath filled the otherwise silent room like a wind that brought storms. “Meilin, can you help me prepare some ink and paper? I need to write a letter.”
“A letter to whom?” Meilin’s heart pounded. Mama had few friends outside of their family. Raised in a poor scholarly house, she had perhaps even fewer living relatives than friends. And what good could writing someone do against a rude daughter-in-law?
“I will tell you once you get me paper and ink,” Mama said with uncharacteristic rigidity.
“Should I get Ailin?” Meilin was scared. Mama was even more upset than when Fan Fulan had dismissed Nurse Liu. Ailin would know what to do to calm Mama down. She had done it before.
Mama grabbed Meilin’s arm, too weak for comfort, too firm to brush off. “Leave your sister out of this. We will take care of the issue ourselves. What Fulan said today cannot be repeated to Ailin. I will not stand for a daughter of mine to be insulted this way.”
Meilin agreed that Fulan’s behavior was not to be tolerated, but she got a bad feeling about keeping secrets from Ailin.
“Fetch the paper and ink,” Mama commanded again.
Slowly, Meilin complied. In her heart, however, she promised to tell Ailin as soon as she got a chance. Together, they would find a way to deal with both Fulan’s and Mama’s plans.