WSMTATMC C135

Chapter 135

Qin Furong stepped in to ease things. “Since it was a misunderstanding, then it’s nothing. The Marquis of Wuping surely won’t make an issue of a young gē’er.”

“What about this silver?” Lin Sui held out the purse.

“Since the marquis gave it, accept it.”

Lin Sui firmly refused. “No, no. How could I take someone’s money for nothing?”

At last, Wang Ying found a solution: he handed the purse to a temple acolyte, to return to the Marquis of Wuping when he emerged. Then the group descended the mountain.

At the foot, the two families took their respective carriages. As they were leaving, Madam Li, rare for her, called out to Qin Furong, “Madam, if there is leisure, next time let us come up to burn incense together again.”

“Gladly. Whenever there’s a mind to go, just send word to me.”

“Yes.”

In the carriage, Qingyun continued soothing Lin Sui, while Wang Ying recalled the marriage lot just cast in the hall. “How did Qingyun’s and the Liu son’s eight characters match?”

Fourth Aunt Fang smiled. “A heaven-sent match—the very best of unions!”

“Truly?!”

Madam Li said, “The elder cast it before our eyes. Three lots in a row, all auspicious. This match will not be amiss.”

Hearing this, smiles overflowed Qingyun’s face. Thinking of that elder brother of the Liu family, she lowered her head at once; the shy peach-blossom flush of a maiden could melt a heart.

Beside her, Lin Sui gazed out, lost in thought. Wang Ying looked at the younger brother and could not help a sigh.

He understood Lin Sui’s mood—at the same age, their stations were entirely different.

The world is often hard on women and gē’er. In the past, a woman divorced or parted from her husband could not go home, forced to a nunnery or into drudgery as a servant, scraping for food.

Life now is a little better—children are not driven from the door—but remarriage is still hard indeed. Few are willing to wed a woman or gē’er who has already separated.

Even princesses were no exception. Wang Ying had once read in the histories: in the previous dynasty, a Princess Zhenyue was granted by the emperor to a first-place laureate.

But the laureate already cherished another in his heart. Unable to refuse the imperial command, he married the princess, yet soon wished to bring his beloved into the house as a concubine.

The princess forbade it; the laureate would not share a room. For three months they were stalemated, until the princess yielded and allowed the woman to be brought in.

Once inside, the woman received all the laureate’s favor, and the princess became the “villain” who broke the pair—receiving neither a husband’s fondness nor the world’s lenience.

Unable to bear it, Princess Zhenyue asked the emperor for a divorce.

For three years after, she could find no consort; heartsick, she entered a Buddhist temple.

The record did not say how her story ended; Wang Ying guessed it could not be good. In a temple, with incense and sutras and little else, even a whole-hearted person might wither into melancholy.

If even a princess fared so, then for Lin Sui this road would be steep indeed.

—

The marriage between the Chens and the Lius was now formally set—betrothal on the sixth day of the sixth month, wedding after the autumn provincial exam.

There was only half a year, making the timing tight, but both families were happy, and formality mattered less than sincerity.

On the Liu side, the wedding rooms were being readied. Their current house was a three-courtyard compound, with few mouths at home and many rooms empty.

Qin Furong planned to tidy the east wing into a small, separate courtyard for the young couple—convenient and comfortable.

The Lius had means: beyond the elder brother in office at court, Madam Qin herself held six shopfronts—besides the premises attached to the dowries of the two daughters in the capital.

Yearly rents alone brought several thousand taels; and as the only daughter of the Qin clan, her three elder brothers, fearful of her being wronged, sent money every year. In short, Qin Furong had no lack of silver at hand.

That night in bed, she took her husband’s arm to discuss their son’s marriage. “From the look of things, the Chens’ purse is not very loose. I’m thinking to find time to propose that their dowry be simple—and we prepare more on the betrothal side.”

Master Liu pondered a moment and shook his head. “Unwise. That would seem as though we looked down on them. Marriage is for two lineages to become one. If mishandled, we gain nothing and may give offense.”

“Then what?”

“It should be done by the proper custom—what others do, we do—neither arrogant nor cringing. If you truly like the Chen girl, give her more pin money once she enters our house.”

“Agreed—then we do as you say.”

—

On the Chen side, preparations began for Qingyun’s dowry.

After coaxing Yuanbao to sleep, Wang Ying and Chen Qingyan went into the field to tally the household funds.

Earnings from before had all been exchanged into silver—ten-tael ingots neatly stacked on a tray. Last year’s house and shop rents had eaten much; over three hundred taels remained.

This year’s copper cash had not yet been exchanged—strings upon strings.

Qingyan brought out the coins; Wang Ying counted beside him. Setting aside loose cash, there were a little over three hundred strings. With the household spending little in recent days, they had saved a fair bit.

“Tomorrow,” Qingyan said, wiping sweat and sitting beside him, “let’s exchange some of this.”

“Good.”

Wang Ying closed the ledger. “Mother gave me three hundred taels in notes today—to outfit Qingyun’s dowry.”

“Mother asked you to see to it?”

“I plan to put that entirely into her trousseau, and we’ll add three hundred strings to purchase things. Though the Lius’ household is good, one cannot run a home on love alone. This money will be her private purse—convenient whatever the need.

“As for the items, we’ll follow the prefectural custom—sixteen loads of clothes, food, and daily use. We can’t match the richest, but we must not have Qingyun feel shorted.”

Qingyan squeezed his hand. “Good—all as you say.”

Wang Ying’s heart for his siblings surpassed even that of a blood brother; true heart earns true heart—both younger ones were fonder of Wang Ying than of him.

It was nearly the Hour of Hai(9pm-11pm) by the time they finished. They bathed and turned in.

—

On the twenty-eighth of the fourth month, the academy exam.

There were three sessions, done in a day and a half.

The questions were by the book—neither too hard nor easy. Both Qingyan and Qinghuai performed at their level; barring mishap, both would pass as stipended students.

When these were done, the next step was to enter the prefectural academy.

With Elder Liang’s connection, Qingsong could accompany them and study as well.

Like the Laizhou academy, the management was strict. All admitted students boarded on campus; except on rest days, no private departures were allowed absent urgent cause.

These few days, Madam Li and Fourth Aunt Fang prepared bedding and clothes for the three.

Heat was mounting by the day—heavy quilts swapped for thin; three sets of underclothes each; shoes and socks complete; and sachets to repel insects.

Summer brought mosquitoes; the sachets were filled with realgar, mint, and camphor to keep pests at bay.

Unlike last time, their hearts were calm—this time the boys would not go far. Rather than fret, Madam Li felt a quiet relief.

After all, they rose earlier than roosters—disturbing the whole house’s sleep.

It was the same for Fourth Aunt. In Shanzhou, out of sight, she missed her eldest terribly; now, under one roof, she sometimes scolded Qinghuai at his elbow—then found her thoughts drifting to the other two.

After the prefectural exam, Qinghuai had written home. A reply would take till the fifth or sixth month. She fretted whether, without her, Qinglan and Qingying were eating well.

Such is a mother—when children are away, the heart is tethered every hour. Even in the grave, one would pray for their safety.

Two days later, academy results came at last. As hoped, Qingyan took first—sweeping county, prefectural, and academy list-toppers—the “small triple crown.”

Compared with the first two, he was cooler now—but excitement still beat in his chest. Years of labor had not been for nothing—an accomplishment that filled him with a rare contentment.

Qinghuai, too, did well—rising from seventh at the prefectural exam to fourth at the academy. For the moment, the two brothers were the talk of Jizhou.

The three would now enter the academy—and the saddest at home was surely Yuanbao.

He had heard his father speak again and again of how “Dad” and Second and Third Uncles were going to study; though he didn’t know where the academy was, he did know he would not see “Dad” every day.

The little fellow grew peevish and sullen, ignoring Qingyan for days.

That night, as Qingyan returned to rest, Yuanbao sat on his little bed with a cloth tiger; at the sight of “Dad” entering, he ducked under his quilt and pretended to sleep.

Seeing the small feet kicking outside the cover, Qingyan walked over and feigned surprise. “Is Yuanbao asleep?”

Wang Ying, reading on the bed, lifted his head. “Seems so.”

“A pity—just now I thought to take him into the field to pick fruit.”

The field was heavy with melons and fruit; for days Yuanbao had begged to go, but they were always busy. Today they finally had time—but the little imp was “asleep.”

Under the quilt, the child wrestled with himself—half wanting fruit, half angry at “Dad.”

“Asleep? Then we’ll go, just the two of us.” Qingyan pretended to leave.

Yuanbao threw back the cover. “Dad, I’m not sleeping!”

Qingyan scooped him up and pinched his soft cheeks. “Then why pretend to sleep?”

“I… I’m mad—not talking to Dad.”

“Oh? What makes you mad? Tell Dad.”

His mouth trembled, and tears spilled. “I don’t want Dad to go…”

“My, my—so big and still dropping golden beans?” Qingyan wiped his face with a sleeve.

“Dad won’t go far—still here in Jizhou. Every few days I’ll come see you.”

“Really?”

“Truly. If you miss me badly, ask your Ah-Fu.”

Wang Ying set down his book, came over, and patted the boy’s head. “Truly. If the missing is too much, Ah-Fu will take you to the academy to see Dad.”

That was permitted; students could not leave at will, but family might visit.

“But… but Yuanbao really still doesn’t want Dad to go!”

Qingyan’s nose stung; the heart of an old father was nearly melted.

Wang Ying looked at the pair and could only shake his head—may they remain so tender, father and son, after Yuanbao begins his primers.