Cheng Jiao-niang was awakened from her dream.
She hadn’t been dreaming for a long time; she would close her eyes and be oblivious to everything, only to wake up upon opening them.
Perhaps it was because she didn’t know who she was, so she didn’t even know how to dream anymore.
She stood in the darkness, seemingly with nowhere to go and no way to escape, surrounded by increasingly scorching heat and an overwhelming inferno.
She woke up like this.
Strangely, there was no fear, only a heart full of desolation.
Cheng Jiao-niang reached out and placed her hand on her chest, which was so cold it almost seemed to stop beating.
There was no escape from such a raging fire, and death was inevitable, so there was no need for fear anymore, leaving only desolation, right?
But it shouldn’t be desolation either.
It was as if her heart had been gouged out, and as the scene flashed through her mind again, her heartbeat truly paused for a moment.
“Miss?”
A soft inquiry from a lady came from outside the curtain, followed by it being pulled aside to reveal a maid, about sixteen or seventeen years old, with crescent-like curved eyebrows that seemed to carry a smile even when she was silent.
Cheng Jiao-niang’s heartbeat returned to normal, her expression as usual.
“Miss, did you have a nightmare?” The maid knelt and sat closer, asking gently.
The morning light in the room was dim, and Cheng Jiao-niang glanced outside; the east was not yet bright.
“No worries,” she said, “Ban Qin, I’m going to get up.”
The maid acknowledged and went to roll up the curtains, while Cheng Jiao-niang went into the bathroom by herself.
The maid lit the lamp in the room, warmed a cup of water on the small brick stove, and after doing all this, she couldn’t help but look towards the bathroom.
The young maid had instructed her before, saying that this lady, due to her illness and limited mobility, needed to be carefully attended to. She didn’t expect that since she had been here for a few days, the lady had done everything by herself, from dressing, washing, combing her hair, to even cooking, without any help.
This didn’t seem like someone with an illness, except for her quiet nature.
Oh, but there was one thing the young maid was right about: this lady had a fondness for naming her maid “Ban Qin.”
She arrived at the Cheng family’s residence first, and then followed a nun with the surname Sun to come here. She later found out that this nun was the abbess of the Xuan-miao Temple at the foot of the mountain and had a good relationship with the Cheng family.
The lady of the Cheng family stayed in the Tai Ping Palace, mostly taken care of by the nuns from the Xuan-miao Temple.
When she followed Abbess Sun to meet this lady, the lady looked her over for a moment and the first thing she said was, “Do you have a name?”
Every person, whether rich or poor, has a name carefully chosen or a simple designation; how could one not have a name?
This lady indeed had an illness to ask such a foolish question.
The maid had been forewarned and knew how to respond.
“I originally had a name, but it’s a name that you don’t know, so, I can also be considered nameless,” she said.
The somewhat simple-looking lady in front of her then curved the corners of her mouth.
“Then I’ll give you a name, how about ‘Ban Qin’?” she asked.
The door to the bathroom opened, interrupting the maid’s reverie. She quickly got up, took the thick satin outer garment from the clothes rack, and draped it over Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiao-niang sat down, took the water offered by the maid, and slowly drank half a cup.
“Miss, would you like to read or listen to a book?” the maid asked, picking up a book from the side.
“Listen,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, settling herself against the armrest.
“Yes,” the maid replied, kneeling down and opening the pages of the book towards the light.
“…The cost of oil is no more than a hundred coins per catty. In the alleys and streets, at the gates of joy, lanterns are hung. From the south to Long Mountain, to the north to the North New Bridge, for forty miles, the lights are unbroken. Inside and outside the city, there are a million households, in front streets and back alleys, even in secluded lanes, lanterns are hung, some with jade railings, some with silk, some paper lanterns, or decorated with stories, competing with each other…” *
A soft female voice echoed in the room. Cheng Jiao Niang leaned against the armrest, listening attentively while her fingers traced patterns on the tabletop.
“Slow down a bit,” she occasionally interjected, asking the maid to adjust her pace.
The maid slowed her speech, and they continued like this until the east began to lighten.
This page had been read over seven or eight times.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded at the maid.
“Alright, that’s enough,” she said, straightening her posture and massaging her right hand.
Her fingers had become red from the friction, and it might not be long before a thin layer of calluses formed.
“Miss, would you like your hair combed?” The maid, seeing Cheng Jiao-niang pick up the comb, hurried over and asked, “Shall I do it for you?”
Cheng Jiao-niang had already begun to slowly comb her hair herself.
“No need,” she said.
Do as the lady says, listen to her, and don’t ask too many questions.
The maid recalled the instructions from the previous young maid, but it wasn’t just her instructions; the old master had said the same.
Let this lady be, do as she pleases.
The old master’s high regard for this lady must be more than just out of pity.
The maid stood still, watching the lady sitting in front of the screen slowly comb her hair. Her hair was well-maintained, thick and black like ink, never tied up in buns, but loosely hanging down, spreading on the floor when she sat, like a piece of brocade.
The furnishings in the room were simple; the lady’s activities were confined to the bathroom, the couch, and the armrest, which hardly needed tidying up. There was only one book, already placed in position, a cup that had been wiped, and the small brick stove’s fire had been extinguished. The maid sat in place, unsure of what to do next.
“There were originally two maids, but their fortune was not good, and it was not conducive to the lady’s convalescence, so they were all sent back.”
That’s what she was told when she met Abbess Sun at the Cheng family’s place.
Having their fate judged as unfortunate by a nun, no one would dare to employ these two maids in the future.
The maid, who came from the Zhang family and was literate, knew that even the lightest words could be as deadly as a knife.
What had these two maids done to offend this nun?
But all of this was irrelevant to her. What she needed to worry about was a sick lady, living alone and being cared for by only one maid—wasn’t that going to be exhausting?
Unexpectedly, she was so idle that she was bored.
It seemed that aside from reading, she was of no use at all.
Cheng Jiao-niang quickly finished combing her hair and stood up.
“Miss, let me cook for you,” the maid hurriedly said.
Cheng Jiao-niang curved the corners of her mouth as she looked at her.
“I’ll do it,” she said.
The maid followed a few steps with a face full of helplessness and anxiety, remembering the instructions and not daring to insist on asking or stopping, until the lady at the door said another sentence that completely shattered her pride as a maid.
“Oh, what would you like to eat?” she asked.
“Miss,” the maid quickly took a few steps forward, “These tasks are what I, as a maid, should do. If you do this, how am I supposed to feel about myself? If I don’t do anything, wouldn’t I be useless?”
Cheng Jiao-niang stopped.
“Yes,” she seemed to ponder for a moment, then smiled slightly, “It does feel bad to be useless. Alright, you do it.”
The maid breathed a sigh of relief, feeling an impulse of gratitude and tears. Finally, she could do something, and it was truly a happiness.
The sky was now fully illuminated as seven or eight riders, accompanied by two carriages, appeared outside the city gates of Jiang-zhou.
At the city entrance, two or three men and women had been eagerly waiting, and upon seeing this group, they were overjoyed.
“Steward Cao,” they hurriedly greeted the newcomers.
A middle-aged man leading the group on horseback reined in his horse.
“You’re all here,” he said, glancing back at the man beside him, “Fourth Master, these are the stewards from our family who are currently staying at the Cheng residence.”
This was Chen Shao’s brother, the fourth master of the Chen family. Chen Shao couldn’t come in person, so to show respect, his brother personally came to request a doctor for their father.
Fourth Master Chen nodded, looking anxiously towards the city.
“Let’s hurry to the Cheng family’s place,” he said, glancing back at his attendants, “Is the gift prepared?”
The attendants chorused in affirmation.
“Wait,” Steward Cao hastily stopped him and said.
Fourth Master Chen frowned.
“Steward Cao, we really can’t afford to delay. Doctor Li said he can only hold on for two months. It will take us more than a month just to travel there and back. If something unexpected happens along the way…” he said urgently.
“I know, I know,” Steward Cao quickly reassured him, while looking at the group of men and women, “Do you know where the lady is?”
The men and women exchanged glances. They had suddenly received a message this morning from a servant running to say that more people from their family will arrive. They thought it was because their family was dissatisfied with their work and had come to help, so they hurried over. But they didn’t expect the question to be about a lady.
Which lady?
Translator’s Note:
*This quote is from the Chinese book “The Prosperous Record of the West Lake Elder”.
