Qian Jiaoniang said: “How can she have nowhere to go? Didn’t I already say she could stay in the Marquis’s household? For one so diligent, she will surely find a way to make a living.”
“A woman without her husband’s family—what way of life is left to speak of! Just the spittle of the neighbors is enough to drown her!” Granny Zhou grew more and more heartsick. “Tell me, what sin has our Zhou family committed!”
She wept bitterly. Qian Jiaoniang, after much effort, soothed her and had her escorted back to rest. Left alone in thought, she went to Zhou Cuilian’s room. Zhou Cuilian was sitting by the table in a daze, her eyes red and swollen—it was clear she had been crying. Her bedding was folded neatly, and a bundle lay by the bed, as if she were ready to leave at any time.
Qian Jiaoniang called her name. Zhou Cuilian jolted back to herself, and seeing it was Jiaoniang, quickly wiped her tears, rose, and invited her to sit. Qian Jiaoniang sat beside her, pulled her down to sit, and asked, “The weather’s still cold—why haven’t you someone make a brazier?”
Zhou Cuilian said: “I’m not afraid of cold, I’m used to it. In the past winters I never had a fire to warm by, always had to busy myself. Always had to…” She broke off midway, suddenly recalling something, and lowered her head in embarrassment.
“What is it you always had to do—why not finish?” Qian Jiaoniang gently asked.
Zhou Cuilian shook her head hard, then lowered it further, refusing to speak.
Qian Jiaoniang looked at her glossy black hair bound up, and sighed lightly. “I heard from Granny Zhou that you want to become a nun?”
Zhou Cuilian’s body stiffened, and she gave the slightest nod.
“Why?” Qian Jiaoniang asked. “Is it that living here doesn’t suit you, or I’ve neglected you?”
Zhou Cuilian shook her head vehemently, then lifted it anxiously. “Sister Qian, you’ve never neglected me. Under heaven there’s no bodhisattva kinder than you! With Granny and me here, eating well, drinking well—it’s like the days of immortals. How could it not be good?”
Qian Jiaoniang smiled. “Since it’s good, then why insist on going to live in a nunnery? It may look like the life of immortals, but in truth there isn’t even a drop of oil or broth. To live there is not comfortable!”
Zhou Cuilian let out a long sigh, dropped her head again, lips pressed tight, her eyes brimming with pain. “I know life in a convent is bitter. I am willing to suffer it.”
Qian Jiaoniang said: “You haven’t killed or set fires—what crime is it you are willing to suffer for?”
Zhou Cuilian stammered with “I—I—I—” several times, but could not get a reason out. Qian Jiaoniang did not press her, only sat quietly. After a long time, Zhou Cuilian gritted her teeth: “I have sinned—my tongue is too much!”
Qian Jiaoniang was startled, though she kept her face calm. She said evenly: “Some people are naturally lively, and so they speak more. Some are naturally sullen, and so they speak less. How is that a sin?”
“But my tongue is too much! So much that even my father-in-law could not abide me, my husband’s family despised me. What use is such a person as I! Better to renounce the world, chant scriptures day by day—then at least my words would have a place to go.” She finished with a bitter laugh.
“You were disliked by your father-in-law, and that makes you useless? All of us say you are capable—why not take that to heart?”
“Your words are useless! What you say cannot lessen my father-in-law’s dislike. If he had disliked me less, my husband would not have cast me off. I am someone despised, discarded. Every time I meet others, I feel they laugh at me, scorn me behind my back, speak ill of me! How can I have the face to keep living here? If they knew my history, they might even drag Sister into gossip!” Zhou Cuilian grew more sorrowful, and collapsed onto the table, sobbing.
“No one thinks so! When outsiders hear your story, they will only say your husband’s family was absurd—to repudiate such a good daughter-in-law. One day they will regret it! Why care for the words of those who never liked you? What sort of man is your father-in-law, to cast you out knowing you had no natal home to return to? And your husband, silent as a stone—he is not worth your tears either! That whole family is heartless and without virtue. How can their words be taken as truth? We women’s lives are bitter—men may cast us off or cherish us at their whim, but we cannot bend ourselves to live only for them!”
Zhou Cuilian’s trembling body suddenly stilled. She lifted her tear-streaked face to look at Qian Jiaoniang, sniffling blankly.
Qian Jiaoniang sighed softly, drew out a kerchief to wipe her tears, and her tone gentled. “Foolish girl, we need only ask our own hearts.”
Zhou Cuilian sniffled hard, her whole body quivering. “Elder Sister Qian, I…”
“Madam, madam, it’s bad! Someone is hanging themselves!” Shanzha’s voice suddenly cried out from outside.
***
By the time Qian Jiaoniang reached the secluded courtyard on the west side, near the outer grounds, the place was already crowded inside and out. Both of the adjacent courtyards were filled with those “beauties” who had been taken in; they looked toward the commotion with varied expressions. When they saw Qian Jiaoniang arrive, they all dropped to their knees with a rustling sound.
She had Hongjuan scatter the onlookers, then strode quickly into the yard. Cries and shouts spilled out through the windows.
“Little sister, don’t be rash, you mustn’t die!”
“Don’t hold me back, let me die! Living is meaningless anyway!”
Qian Jiaoniang frowned. She paused on the threshold, turned her head, and said to Shanzha: “She’s not dead—why call me over?”
Saying this, she turned and left.
Shanzha blinked, stunned. Did Madam mean unless someone truly died, she wouldn’t come?
It wasn’t just Shanzha—those beauties gathered under the eaves of the same courtyard were all dumbfounded. The Marchioness was leaving?
Not only did Qian Jiaoniang leave, she left with long, decisive strides. From inside, someone ran out frantically. Just as Qian Jiaoniang was about to step through the gate, a woman lunged at her from behind, trying to clutch her legs. But Qian Jiaoniang had already anticipated it—she drew her leg back, and the disheveled beauty in white fell sprawling on the ground.
Suier quickly stepped forward to pull the ghostlike woman away, but the woman shook free, dropping to her knees and wailing: “Madam, madam, I beg you, show mercy!”
Looking down, Qian Jiaoniang saw her furrowed brows and thin, pitiful garments—enough to stir pity in any man. She asked coolly: “What crime have you committed, that I should show mercy?”
The beauty froze, then sobbed: “This slave has committed no crime.”
“If you’ve committed no crime, then why should I show mercy?” Qian Jiaoniang asked, genuinely puzzled.
Tear-streaked, the beauty said: “I only beg Madam not to arbitrarily assign us sisters away. We wish to serve none other than the great hero, the Dingxi Marquis, and Madam yourself! I beg Madam not to hand us over to those—those hideous men! I kowtow to you!”
She gave three heavy knocks of her head, so hard even Shanzha’s own head ached to hear them.
“Hideous men? Who do you mean?” Qian Jiaoniang asked.
The other beauties crowded around. One in a blue jacket knelt beside the white-robed woman and said plaintively: “Madam, what younger sister means are the men you sent us to see on Lantern Festival.”
“Oh,” Qian Jiaoniang nodded, then asked again: “And in what way are they hideous?”
Wasn’t this blatant falsehood? If those weren’t hideous, then what was? The woman in white threw caution aside and declared: “Those men are grotesque, disfigured beyond recognition. For you to make us marry them is to degrade us! I would rather die than marry such men!”
At this, Qian Jiaoniang’s brows shot up. She barked sharply: “Hideous? Grotesque? You women see with dog’s eyes, looking down on people! Those men are all meritorious defenders of Xie Dynasty—they suffered those wounds on the battlefield! Without them, could you sit here nitpicking and whining?”
Her scolding struck them all into silence.
Qian Jiaoniang’s voice turned even harsher: “Burned faces? That was from rushing into flames to save lives—such men are kind-hearted! Ears cut off? That was under enemy torture—such men are loyal! A missing arm? That was from poisoned arrows on the front—such men are brave! These fine men are true iron-boned heroes, and yet you shallow women judge them by faces!”
The group of beauties all stood around her, staring at each other, tongue-tied.
“I told you before—go and look carefully. If you like one, tell me. Did you think I was forcing you? I was giving you a great opportunity! If it were me, I would be rejoicing. But you act as if I am harming you. I see you’re simply too idle—nothing better to do than stir up trouble, even using the trick of hanging yourself! Very well then—I’ll see that you experience firsthand just how hard the lives of those so-called ‘hideous’ men really are!”
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