The Brocade Prince | A. Y. Chao #5
At that, Feifei had a wheezing fit. Her father was about to speak but Hsiao Niang gently squeezed his arm, gesturing for the maid to bring Feifei another bowl of that hideous tonic.
“She had her tonic first thing this morning and is already much better. So long as she follows Alchemist Yin’s prescription and has the tonic three times daily for the next week, her airways will clear and she’ll be much more comfortable,” Hsiao Niang said.
Feifei was too busy drinking the vile concoction to respond, the infused qi tingling all the way down her throat. It was too late to escape anyway, because a servant announced the arrival of Lord Liu and his wastrel son Lord Xingzhou as they strode into the Hall.
Lord Liu raised his hands in zuoyi. “May you be at peace and in good health, Lord Yang, Chi Hsiao Niang and Eldest Lady Yang.”
His son bowed, hands raised in zuoyi. “I have seen you and greet you, Lord Yang, Chi Hsiao Niang and Eldest Lady Yang.”
The correct ritual pleasantries thus offered, Lord Yang invited the Lius to sit. While the two lords discussed the latest developments at court, Feifei considered her betrothed.
Lord Xingzhou sat stony-faced, staring at the floor. No wonder; his heart lay elsewhere, but the fact he was here meant he was resigned to the marriage. Feifei folded her hands in her lap and sat quietly, though inside, her temper roiled.
Of course that useless drunkard would be resigned to this marriage.
Feifei came from a distinguished lineage: a long line of celebrated scholars on her paternal side, and on her maternal, nobility.
She had a handsome dowry, made even more enticing with the addition of her late mother’s dowry. On paper, she was a great catch.
In person however… other eligible bachelors had been quick to lose interest. Of the four womanly virtues – speech, manner, countenance and conduct – she failed in almost every one.
Her wheezing constantly interrupted her words, her weak constitution caused her to shuffle like an old lady, and her countenance, well, a dab of hogweed sap and a brief outing on her balcony in full view of a courtyard filled with Hsiao Niang’s visiting ladies was enough to ensure all the mothers in Luo’an looking for a suitable daughter-in-law heard about Eldest Lady Yang’s unfortunate skin affliction, one which caused regular eruptions of unsightly, highly contagious pustules.
The only virtue she had was in conduct, where she followed all the prescribed rules with a rigid devotion that made even the most conservative followers of Confucian etiquette feel awkward and uncomfortable.
For her betrothed to still be willing to marry her, she could only surmise he was either a spineless coward who couldn’t speak up for himself, or a calculating creep who knew with her dowry he could easily support a tavern girl as his concubine.
Hsiao Niang interrupted her thoughts. “Feifei, why don’t you show Lord Xingzhou the courtyard gardens.”
Lord Xingzhou started at the mention of his name. He glanced at Feifei but seeing that she was looking straight at him, he dropped his gaze. His cheeks pinked but he stood and obediently followed her from the hall.
They walked in silence, Feifei stopping every few steps to lean against a post or banister or one of the large peony tree pots, and catch her breath. Feifei expected Lord Xingzhou to lose patience, but not once did he betray irritation, merely waiting meekly by her side.
“Apologies, Lord Xingzhou. Walking tires me excessively. Could we sit over there in the shade?” Feifei gestured to the pavilion at the side of the pond.
“Of course.”
She watched Lord Xingzhou from the corner of her eye.
She’d spied on him from afar quite a few times, every night the same: go to Le Chi Tavern, get drunk, spend the rest of the night with the tavern’s singing girl.
The other times the Lius came to visit, her father had excused her, thus sparing her from awkward small talk.
This was the first time they’d met face-to-face. He was tall, about her true height. His shoulders rolled forward – a mark of someone who spent a lot of time reading, or someone trying to make themselves look smaller.
She sat at the small table laid with a Go board.
His eyes brightened. “Do you play?”
Go was one of her favourite games. She was keenly competitive and a very sore loser, throwing tantrums whenever she lost. If he won, she wouldn’t be able to hold back.
However, a game of Go would occupy her time and reduce the need for conversation while they waited for their elders to complete negotiations.
She bit the inside of her cheek: expose her competitive nature or spend the next two hours racking her brain for respectable and dull conver sation topics?
Deciding on the lesser evil, she said, “I do. Though I am stupid, I diligently practise. It was venerable Master Kung who said self-cultivation is the path to morality.”
Feifei modulated her tone to land in that ambiguous middle ground between earnest belief and clueless conceit and was pleased to see Lord Xingzhou’s smile falter at her obnoxiously vacuous pronouncement. She lowered her gaze demurely, taking a white stone and placing it on the board.
“Eldest Lady Yang, I see you know your classics. Do you also enjoy reading fu rhapsodies? Quite a few new—”
Feifei delicately cleared her throat. In the mildest of tones, she said, “It is improper for those of the inner house to speak with and by extension, read the words of, unknown men.”
Fingers mid-air, still holding his black stone, her betrothed blinked at her in confusion. “B-But, what about Master Kung? Surely Lady Yang does not know the authors of the classics?”
She smiled gently, with perhaps the tiniest bit of reproof in her eyes.
“The three obediences require a virtuous woman to obey her father, her husband and her son. The Five Classics – I Ching, Book of Documents, Book of Poems, Book of Rites, and Spring and Autumn Annals – were decreed by the Emperor, who is the father of the people. Thus, of course Master Kung is known to my father and welcomed in our home. It is therefore in line with propriety that this unworthy one should read his learned words.”
Lord Xingzhou’s expression grew pinched. “I see,” he said, unable to hide the disappoint ment in his voice as he placed his black stone.
Servants brought a small folding table on which they placed a pot of freshly steeped tea and a plate of bite-sized flower cakes. Lord Xingzhou took one and bit into it.
“These are the best flower cakes I’ve ever tasted,” he said, attempting another smile.
Feifei thought so too, but she kept her expression neutral. “They are made with my late mother’s recipe. Her secret ingredient is finely chopped crab-apples.”
He responded by taking another cake and eating it with obvious enjoyment.
Plucking one from the plate, she held the delicate pastry in her palm.
Its five petals were perfectly crisp, the blush of pink and the dusting of yellow on the moulded stamens pristine.
She took a bite, savouring the flaky pastry and the mildly tart, sweet filling.
Remembering the squashed stodgy lump that reeked of a man’s privates, and that she actually ate the thing, made her suddenly giggle.
Lord Xingzhou responded with an eager smile. But it had the opposite effect on Feifei: his attention reminded her of the situation. She lowered her head, breaking eye contact, and placed another stone.
Thankfully he stopped speaking and they played in silence.
Feifei couldn’t help noticing how smooth and soft his hands looked, like a pampered baby’s bottom, apart from the ‘scholar’s ingot’, a callus on the side of his middle finger, one which only came from long hours of holding a brush. It was seen as a sign of good fortune.
The board filled with white and black stones. He was a good strategist and kept Feifei on her toes.
As he placed another stone, he cleared his throat. “My grandmother often praises your late honoured mother. I’d like to know more about your interests, Lady Yang.”
His tone was so hopeful, she wondered if she’d mistaken his character. But patterns of behaviour didn’t lie.
She smiled brightly, placed her own stone. “A virtuous woman does not indulge in self-regard.”
Lord Xingzhou drooped at this answer. His face was a tangle of helpless consternation. Feifei couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up her throat, so she hurriedly covered it with a coughing fit.
After placing his next stone, he said, “As husband and wife, it is important that we share common values. Master Kung’s teachings dictate that women stay within the home.” He paused, as if waiting for Feifei to reply.
“Women are base and prone to foolishness, thus we must rely on men to guide us in life.” Feifei smiled insipidly as she placed her stone, capturing a group of his.
He stared at her openly before remembering himself and dropping his gaze to the board. “Master Kung also taught us that a woman’s virtue is the highest form of filial piety.”
“True, true,” she said agreeably.
“Then do you also agree with Master Kung’s belief that women are unruly and jealous?” There was an edge to his words, as if he were challenging her.
He placed a stone.
Feifei’s lip quirked at his careless move. Another three stones captured. “Master Kung is infinitely wise.”
Lord Xingzhou blew out an exasperated breath. “Master Sun taught us that to avoid peril, one should know oneself as well as one’s opponent.”
At the mention of Master Sun, Feifei snapped her gaze to his before realising he spoke not of her Master Sun, but the one who wrote The Art of War. He stared at her with a strange intensity, bordering on anger.
Meekly, she said, “I am unfamiliar with this gentleman. Is he an acquaintance of yours?”