Chapter 11
Ailin
Grand-mother Jiang’s suggestion for Meilin to offer zither lessons gave Ailin a much-needed push to remember her own goals.
If she wanted to reunite with Enze from a position of strength and dignity, she needed to grow her dowry.
When he confessed his feelings that day in the garden, he had expressed a desire to work hard so he could take care of them both, regardless of his family’s opposition.
Ailin was touched by his selflessness, but she didn’t want him to carry the burden of providing on his own.
She wanted to help him as much as he wanted to care for her.
With that in mind, she started painting again in hopes of selling her work.
She started by capturing the small maple tree in the corner of her family’s new courtyard.
The skillfully pruned maple still miraculously held on to its red leaves, despite the lateness of the season.
It reminded Ailin of the mountainside near Nuolan Garden, and she channeled that pure longing into her painting.
When the painting dried, she mounted it to a scroll and considered how she could find new patrons without the support of Uncle Chen.
She thought about asking Uncle Meng, but he was so busy running the Jiang family businesses that she rarely saw him.
The next person she considered was Aunt Meng.
Although Ailin didn’t yet feel close enough to her uncle’s wife to ask for a favor, she figured approaching Aunt Meng would be less intimidating than approaching Grand-mother Jiang.
Ailin got her chance a few days later when Aunt Meng came to work on embroidery with Ailin’s mother.
Aunt Meng was a master embroiderer as well as the genius behind the Jiang family’s earliest business success.
Though she generally kept to herself, she was always interested in learning new techniques, and Mother’s artistic designs impressed her from the start.
Aunt Meng had regularly sought out Mother as a companion in the weeks following their arrival in Suzhou.
As Begonia and Aunt Meng’s maid helped set up the embroidery frames, Ailin worked up her courage to speak. “Aunt Meng, before you start your work, may I give you a small gift?”
Aunt Meng took the scroll from Ailin and unrolled it, revealing the painting of the maple tree. “This is beautiful, Ailin. I’d love to use this as a reference for a piece of embroidery, if you don’t mind. What do you think, Xiuyun-jiě?”
Mother responded enthusiastically to the sisterly term of address. “Ailin has sketched several embroidery ideas for me in the past that turned out well. I’ll find some to show you.”
“I look forward to seeing them.”
Ailin’s heart pounded at Aunt Meng’s interest. “I am honored by your compliment, Aunt Meng. If you like my work, I would love to paint more for you.”
Aunt Meng tilted her head in thought, the gold bùyáo ornament in her hair dangling like her earrings. “I actually do have a project I’d like your help with, if you are able.”
Ailin nodded, trying to convey enthusiasm without excessive eagerness.
“In a few weeks, my younger sister, Xiatian, is coming to visit, and I was hoping to give her a special gift. She was married last year and has been trying to conceive. I pray to the bodhisattva Guānyīn on her behalf every day, but I’d like to do more.
If you are willing, I’d like to commission a painting of Guānyīn from you, one I could hang in a shrine or give to Xiatian for her house in Hangzhou. ”
“Oh.” Ailin did not know how to respond. Any kind of work was an opportunity, but she had no experience with religious art nor was she a strong believer in Buddhism.
“I would pay you a fair price for the painting, of course,” Aunt Meng added.
“That is hardly necessary,” Ailin said as her cheeks grew warm.
While she wanted to be paid, directly discussing payment felt vulgar.
She had been raised to manage money wisely, not to obsess about earning it.
And how could she promise good religious art to her faithful aunt when she didn’t really know what she was doing? Shame flooded through her.
As if sensing her distress, Mother smiled at her. “Why don’t you try your best, dear? You painted so well for Uncle Chen back in Nanjing. I’m sure you can do that here too.”
“Only agree if you feel comfortable, Ailin,” Aunt Meng said. “But you should know that your Uncle Meng spoke very highly of your painting skills even before you arrived, so I’ve been wanting to see your work. You would be doing me a favor by accepting this commission, not the other way around.”
Ailin blushed more. Clearly, both her mother and Aunt Meng knew how much she wanted to earn money and were trying to give her face.
She still felt embarrassed about her desire to earn money, but she swallowed her pride.
One day, when she was married and financially stable, she would pay them back for their kindness. Today, she would accept the charity.
“I would be honored to paint for you, ma’am.”
Meilin was kind enough to don the draping robes Ailin fashioned for her new foray into religious portraits. Ailin’s sister was a great model for the bodhisattva Guānyīn: beautiful, kind, and supportive. The problem lay with Ailin.
“Your compositions look much better than the paintings I saw for sale in the shops outside,” Meilin said as she sifted through the pile of failed sketches on Ailin’s desk.
“High-quality paintings are sold by trusted dealers, not in shops.” Ailin sighed as she reached for a clean sheet of paper. “I don’t know how I’ll ever master the skills required for painting in this genre.”
Ailin had practiced for the past couple weeks and had grown comfortable sketching an adult female figure, but conveying the power and compassion of a goddess—that required imagination, or maybe faith, both of which Ailin lacked.
She wondered what Father would think of her, trying so hard to paint a figure she didn’t believe in.
Inhaling deeply, she tried to breathe in confidence.
Father would have respected her effort because he respected all good religions.
And he would have liked the idea of her painting so she could be with Enze.
Father would have approved of Enze’s scholarly sincerity and diligence and how happy she was when she was with him.
“Would it help if I held some props? Like a willow branch or a lotus?” Meilin asked.
Ailin was roused from her abstraction. She dipped her paintbrush into the well in the middle of her inkstone to hide her distracted state. “That might work.” She frowned when the inkstone ran out of ink. “But it’s too late in the season to find lotus flowers, and the willows are all brown.”
“That’s true. Those motifs are so common anyway. What if you try painting something more unique, like Guānyīn riding a dragon?”
“Then it would be twice as hard because I’d have to use my imagination for both a goddess and a dragon.
” Ailin was frustrated at her inability to capitalize on her sister’s ideas.
Of the two of them, Meilin was the creative one.
Though Meilin didn’t paint much, the musical equivalent of painting from imagination was probably improvising on the zither, which Meilin excelled at.
There were some talents Ailin would never possess, no matter how hard she tried.
“I think you need to break from your reliance on references. Unlock your full potential! What if you try painting one of the rarer manifestations of Guānyīn mentioned in the Lotus Sutra? Like, what if I ditch these robes and dress up as a Heavenly General?”
Ailin laughed at Meilin’s far-fetched suggestion. “And where would you get armor? Would you ask to borrow some from Captain Bai?”
“I wouldn’t ask him for a favor like that,” Meilin said, pouting.
Ailin hadn’t seen her making such a cute face in a while. “Why not? I think he likes you enough that he would say yes.”
Meilin turned icy. “That’s not funny.”
Ailin winced. Had she gone too far with her teasing?
She hadn’t expected her sister to be so sensitive about this topic.
Meilin seemed to prefer Master Wei to Captain Bai from the start, but she hadn’t expressed dislike for the captain either.
Whenever the captain joined them at dinner, Meilin watched him with a pensive expression that Ailin interpreted as respectful interest. Ailin liked the understated way Meilin interacted with Captain Bai better than her sister’s open flirtation with Master Wei.
“A willow branch would be easy enough to re-create from memory since I’ve painted them before.” Ailin returned to the topic at hand, hoping to defuse the situation without agitating Meilin further. “It would also be a more standard depiction of the bodhisattva.”
Meilin’s frown deepened, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. “Do you really think Captain Bai likes me?”
Ailin carefully considered how to respond.
While people’s true feelings were hard to judge, she had noticed over the past few weeks several outward signs that Captain Bai did, indeed, like Meilin.
Whenever they were in the same room, usually when Captain Bai joined the Jiangs for dinner, his eyes lingered on Meilin longer than on anyone else.
From the intent way he looked at her when she spoke to the way his expression softened when she performed the zither, all his actions showed admiration.
When Ailin did not respond right away, Meilin supplied her own opinion, an edge developing in her voice. “I doubt someone like him could truly love any woman.”
Ailin grew uncomfortable. Did Meilin dislike Captain Bai more than she thought?
If so, it might be better for her sister to express her frustrations to Ailin now rather than hold back her feelings and explode in public later.
Even if Meilin didn’t like the captain, she could not afford to insult him in front of others.
“What kind of person do you think he is?”
Meilin’s robes flounced when she plopped down on Ailin’s couch bed as if she was exhausted. “You heard the same story I did. Do you think a man with an illegitimate child can be trusted?”
Ailin pondered the question as she poured a few drops of water onto the inkstone.
While grinding her inkstick against it in smooth, circular motions, she thought about Enze and how his openness with her was one of the things she loved most about him.
His willingness to share the deepest parts of himself was what made her feel safe with him.
But Captain Bai was different. If Sandy really was his daughter instead of his niece, hiding the fact only made sense if it improved rather than damaged his reputation.
As things stood, however, Captain Bai was carrying the black pot of dishonor while gaining nothing in return.
Furthermore, even if the rumor was true, antagonizing him was unwise.
Meilin’s active dislike wouldn’t change Captain Bai’s past, but it could influence her future.
Ailin tried to be diplomatic. “There must be more to the story. The Jiang family would not be so close with the captain if they thought him untrustworthy.”
“Are you sure of that? They seem too mercantile to care about honor, especially Grand-mother Jiang. She’ll tolerate anyone who pays rent on time.”
Ailin set her inkstick down. “That is no way to talk about an elder and our benefactor. Grand-mother Jiang has been extremely generous to us, and we don’t pay rent.”
“We pay her through the entertainment she gains from teasing us and watching us squirm. You might think I’m silly for reacting so strongly, but I care a lot about this. I’d rather never marry at all than marry a man I don’t love.”
“You’re not going to become a nun, Meilin. And how can you even be sure who you love and don’t love? We’ve been here less than a month.”
“How long did it take for you to fall in love with Enze?”
Meilin’s question struck like an arrow, leaving Ailin temporarily speechless. “I wish you wouldn’t speak like that.”
“It’s not fair for you to fall in love with Enze if I don’t get to fall in love with whomever I choose.”
Ailin rubbed her temples. On a purely philosophical level, Meilin was right.
Ailin couldn’t expect Meilin to control her heart when she couldn’t control her own.
However, Mother already approved of Enze, and he was working to pass the imperial exams and convince his family to accept Ailin.
In all their efforts, they were trying to remain respectful to authority.
Ailin would not have misgivings about Meilin falling in love if Meilin could promise to be more cautious.
The real conversation they needed was too complicated for this moment. Even thinking about it gave Ailin a headache, because she knew Meilin would argue back. Ailin chose an easier route instead.
“You’re right,” she said. “How about we get back to painting?”