Qin Shi’san-lang was still smiling even after stepping through his own front gate, and there, at the courtyard entrance, he happened to run into his mother and the two family madams who were just returning.
“What a coincidence – this time it really is a coincidence,” Madam Qin said quickly when she saw the odd gleam in her son’s eyes.
Qin Shi’san-lang could no longer hold back and burst out laughing. The more he thought about it, the funnier it seemed, and he had to turn aside to hide his grin.
“What has him in such high spirits?” the two madams asked with a laugh.
“He – ever since that …” Madam Qin began, smiling, but before she could finish, Qin Shi’san-lang turned back and waved the stack of papers in his hand, cutting her off.
“The calligraphy of Lady Cheng that my brothers at home have been longing for,” he said. “I managed to get it.”
At that, the two madams’ eyes immediately lit up.
These days, the tomb of the five men of Maoyuan Mountain had become a famed scenic spot, its inscription hailed as the greatest running script since the Preface to the Orchid Pavilion. Yet rubbings of it were exceedingly rare – after all, one could hardly allow people to take casual impressions from a grave monument.
And since the maker of that inscription possessed such a distinguished standing, few dared to approach her rashly. It was even said that the Imperial Consort herself had once wished to invite her to teach calligraphy to Prince Ping, but had been flatly refused.
“Writing is meant to convey feeling and meaning, not for idle display or amusement. I do not write for show, nor will I teach anyone merely to make their writing look good,” said Lady Cheng.
Her words had left the Imperial Consort deeply embarrassed, yet when the Emperor heard of it, he only laughed, praising the girl for her plainspoken honesty – stiff in manner, perhaps, but sincere in heart. The Imperial Consort could do nothing but let the matter rest.
After even the Imperial Consort had been refused, who else would dare call on her to ask for calligraphy as a mere ornament?
And now, for Qin Shi’san-lang to have obtained so many of her works – why, once he brought them home, they would be enough to host several rounds of treasure-appreciation banquets.
“Thirteenth Young Master, let us see it quickly!”
The two madams crowded in at once, pushing Madam Qin right out of the way.
Left standing outside the circle, Madam Qin couldn’t help laughing and crying at the same time.
“He’s my son,” she said with a mock-smile. “Even if he does want to give you one, if I don’t allow it, you won’t get one.”
Her words set off another round of laughter and good-natured teasing. It took quite some time before they managed to divide the calligraphy sheets fairly among themselves. Qin Shi’san-lang, not daring to linger any longer, gathered the remaining few and prepared to take his leave.
“Ah, one more thing,” he said, turning back as something occurred to him. “Mother, pick a bright and quick-witted girl from the kitchen staff and send her to Lady Cheng’s household.”
“For what? Is she short of help?” Madam Qin asked in surprise.
“No,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied with a grin. “But if she could train the Zhang family’s cook, Ban Qin, into what she is today, then she can surely train a Qin family cook as well. I’m sending one over as an apprentice.”
Madam Qin and the two other madams were once again taken aback.
That was possible? But what shocked them even more was–
“The cook from Master Zhang Jiangzhou’s household?” they asked in unison. “She was actually trained by that Lady Cheng?”
“She used to be Lady Cheng’s maid,” Qin Shi’san-lang explained.
Jiang-zhou… Zhang Jiangzhou… that fool of Jiang-zhou… all from Jiang-zhou…
“No wonder!” the madams exclaimed, clapping their hands. “So they were old acquaintances after all!”
“This young lady – what can’t she do?” Madam Qin said with a laugh, and indeed turned to give an order. “Go and pick out two–”
Before she could finish, one of the madams caught her by the arm, smiling in a way that made Madam Qin uneasy.
“How many mouths do you have to feed? Sending two cooks at once – now that’s extravagant,” the madam teased, still holding on to her arm.
“What do you mean by that?” Madam Qin asked, pretending not to understand.
“I’ll send one too,” said the second madam, catching on at once and seizing Madam Qin’s other arm before the first could speak.
“Hey, I said it first!” protested the first.
“What do you mean you said it first? Clearly I was the one who spoke first!” the other retorted with a grin.
“This is utter nonsense!” Madam Qin said, laughing despite herself.
Watching the women quarrel playfully inside, Qin Shi’san-lang chuckled, turned, and started to leave – but his mother called him back.
“She didn’t say how many you could send, did she?” Madam Qin asked with a smile. “Would three be all right?”
Qin Shi’san-lang turned back with a grin.
“One Banqin is for keeping, two Banqins are for sharing. She already has three Banqins now – another three or five won’t make any difference. She won’t mind in the least,” he said.
…
Standing by the Yudai Bridge, a scholar pondered for a long time, staring at the tightly closed courtyard gate ahead.
“We came to pay our respects – why shouldn’t we go in?” he said.
“The young lady has no elders at home, and she herself is unmarried. That Inspector Fan is away from home almost every day – how could we, as men, just walk in? It would be improper, most improper,” his companion replied, shaking his head.
The scholar paced back and forth a few times.
“It took me five days to travel here from home, and I spent another five studying at the tomb. Yet I still cannot grasp the essence of her calligraphy. If I return like this, I’ll spend my whole life haunted by the wonder of Lady Cheng’s brushwork, unable to lift my own pen again,” he said. “I truly cannot accept that. Even if I could ask her just one question in person, I’d be content.”
“But that Lady Cheng refused even the Imperial Consort – how could we hope to meet her? She would not teach a prince, let alone the likes of us,” another man said, shaking his head.
The others all nodded in agreement.
The scholar looked dejected, let out a sigh, and turned to leave. But after taking a few steps, he clenched his teeth and spun back around.
“Even so, I must ask. Even if they drive me away, my trip here won’t have been in vain,” he said, and to the astonishment of the others, strode boldly toward Lady Cheng’s gate.
As though afraid he might lose his nerve, he raised his hand and struck the door before he even reached it.
With a loud thud, the sound echoed – and the scholar himself seemed startled by his own action, frozen with his hand still in the air.
A hush fell over the doorway.
Just as the scholar was about to turn and flee, the door suddenly opened.
Two tall, solemn guards stepped forward.
“Who are you looking for?” they asked.
“L–Lady Cheng,” the scholar stammered.
“And who are you?” the guards pressed.
“I – I am Zhang Wenchang of Kaiyang,” he said.
“What business do you have here?”
“I… I wish to seek the lady’s instruction in running script,” the scholar replied.
At that, one of the guards gave him a long, measuring look.
All around, the onlookers held their breath – their hearts in their throats. Well, if he was to be driven away, then so be it. After all, they were scholars, men of learning and manners… surely the guards wouldn’t resort to their fists, would they?
“Please wait a moment,” one of the guards said curtly before shutting the door.
The scholar stood there in a daze.
Please… wait?
The others, who had kept their distance, couldn’t hear what was said. When they saw the door close and the scholar still standing there calmly and unharmed, they all rushed over in a flurry.
“Well? How did it go?”
“What did they say?”
They clamoured around him with excited questions – when suddenly, the door opened again.
“My lady says she dares not presume to be your teacher,” a smiling maid said softly. “But she’s writing at the moment. If you’d like to watch, you may come in.”
Everyone outside the gate froze in astonishment.
“You may come in to watch…”
The scholar was the first to recover, trembling with excitement. He straightened his blue scholar’s robe again and again before finally stepping inside. Once they saw him pass through the gate safely, the others came to their senses at last.
“I – I want to see too!” someone called out.
That one voice broke the spell; soon, many more joined in, echoing eagerly.
Ban Qin turned her head, a little startled by the sudden commotion. Just then, footsteps sounded from under the veranda. She quickly turned around and called out, “Miss!”
Miss!
All eyes turned in that direction. A young lady was walking out.
So young – she hardly looked like someone capable of writing characters so steeped in time and human sorrow.
Yet, at the same moment, another thought flickered through their minds: perhaps only someone like her could have written such words.
What a strange, wondrous feeling it was.
The young lady stopped in her tracks when she saw the crowd gathered before her gate.
At once, silence fell outside the courtyard.
“You wish to watch me write?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
“Yes, my lady – your calligraphy… might we have the honor of learning from you?” one scholar said quickly.
“There’s nothing in my writing worth learning,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, shaking her head. “And I don’t know how to teach.”
At that, everyone’s hearts sank.
There, you see? Just as we thought—
“But,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued, “I practice my writing at this hour every day. If you wish to watch, you may. And if you’d like, you may write along with me.”
Everyone’s eyes widened at once.
So – she wouldn’t teach them, but she would let them watch her write? Wasn’t that practically the same thing?
Heavens! Were they dreaming?
“Truly?” someone blurted out.
“It’s only writing – what’s there to be false about?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
So simple? If they had known all it took was to ask, why had they waited so long!
All those days they’d spent hesitating – what a waste of time!
At once, the crowd surged forward, each one eager to squeeze inside.
“Miss, Miss – there’s no room for so many people in the house!” Ban Qin said anxiously.
In the blink of an eye, the courtyard was packed full.
Cheng Jiao-niang gave a soft “oh,” then turned her gaze toward the gate.
“Then I’ll write outside,” she said.
It was as if overnight, all the people who had once crowded before the tombs of Maoyuan Mountain brothers, outside the East Gate, had vanished.
The first to notice something amiss were the hawkers who came early each morning with their baskets to sell their goods. Usually, people arrived at dawn, eager to claim the best spot to study the tomb inscription – but that morning, even as the sun climbed high and the market stalls filled the roadside, only two caretakers remained by the graves. No one else was there.
“Could it be that the authorities have forbidden anyone from disturbing the heroes’ rest?” someone guessed.
“Nonsense – this isn’t an imperial tomb. Even the family’s own caretakers haven’t driven anyone off. What business would the officials have meddling here?”
“Then maybe… something shady happened again?”
At once, the crowd broke into murmurs and speculation.
“Stop guessing nonsense!” someone shouted. “Lady Cheng has set out a mat by her gate and is teaching calligraphy there! Watching her write in person is far better than staring blankly at a tombstone!”
Teaching by the gate!
“Dan-niang!”
A voice called from behind. Chen Dan-niang, clutching a scroll in her arms, strode quickly ahead as if she hadn’t heard. Only when the voice called twice more – and a hand caught her by the shoulder – did she stop.
“Why are you running?” Chen Shi’ba-niang asked, slightly out of breath.
“I’ve got things to do – really, I do! Don’t hold me up,” Chen Dan-niang said, trying to pull free.
Chen Shi’ba-niang couldn’t help laughing.
“What things could you possibly have? You’ve only a bit of embroidery and a few lessons – besides playing around, what else could you be up to? Come on, come write with me.”
“I am going to write,” Chen Dan-niang replied. “I’m going to write with Lady Cheng.”
Chen Shi’ba-niang froze.
“She – she doesn’t teach, does she?” she said. “Don’t you go pestering her just because you’re young.”
“I’m not!” Chen Dan-niang lifted her chin with a grin. “Lady Cheng doesn’t teach, but she lets people watch her write.”
Watch her write?
The carriage came to a stop before reaching the Yudai Bridge – or rather, it couldn’t even get that far, for the way ahead was packed tight with people, not a gap to be seen.
“We can’t get through. I’ll walk from here,” Chen Dan-niang said, nimbly hopping down from the carriage.
Chen Shi’ba-niang hurried to urge the maids to follow.
“No need,” Chen Dan-niang called back. “There’s too many people and too little space. One person’s enough. If one maid stands to lay out paper, another to grind ink, and another just to stand around, how’s anyone else supposed to see?”
Before Chen Shi’ba-niang could reply, she had already squeezed into the crowd, disappearing step by step.
Watch her write?
What on earth is going on?
After a moment’s hesitation, Chen Shi’ba-niang stepped down from the carriage herself. With the maids and servants shielding her, she pushed through the mass of people until she finally reached the Yudai Bridge – and there, she stopped short in stunned silence.
