Yanluo was now the maiden most sought-after by Yuzhou’s young men; brawls even broke out on the streets over her. Yet she had not taken a liking to any, and now sat quietly in a corner, thinking only of the embroidery shop.
Jiaoniang and Meinang, masked, sat together eating and sipping fruit wine. From time to time, young women and matrons came to toast them, and they accepted with smiles. Stroking her belly, Meinang looked at the beauties—those who should have been concubines in Xing Muzheng’s rear court—and could not help sighing. She said to Jiaoniang: “You truly have a large heart. So many beauties, and you keep them at your side day after day. Aren’t you afraid that Brother-in-law might truly take one of them?”
By now, Meinang dared to call Xing Muzheng “brother-in-law.” She had long wanted to say this. What man did not succumb to feminine charms? Even she and her husband, bound by deep affection, still made her worry if his eyes lingered too long on a pretty face. But her sister—well, she kept a whole flock of beauties at her side and seemed not the least concerned.
Qian Jiaoniang picked up a dried fruit and put it in her mouth.
“If a man has that intention, whether the beauties are near or far makes no difference. And these women—what crime have they committed? They are merely poor souls born to the wrong lot, lives thinner than paper. When I look at them, it’s like looking at myself once—helpless and not in control. If I can help them, I will.”
If any were truly determined to go be concubines, she simply sent them on their way.
Qian Meinang sighed. “You’re right. But still, it’s thanks to Brother-in-law cherishing you, and keeping himself clean and proper…”
“Cough, cough, cough!” Qian Jiaoniang choked.
Qian Meinang quickly patted her back. “What’s the matter with you?”
Qian Jiaoniang coughed twice more. “It’s your strange words that choked me.”
“What strange words did I say?” Qian Meinang puzzled, thinking back. “I said Brother-in-law cherishes you, and keeps himself clean. Which word was wrong?”
These two years, she had seen it clearly: her brother-in-law’s devotion to her younger sister was real. He indulged her in everything, showered her with jewels and clothes, never constrained her, never locked her in the rear court. She wanted to embroider, he begged fine cloth at high price. She wanted to play polo, he raised fine horses for her. The household had only her alone. Not just great households—even minor officials kept concubines. Yet this mighty Marquis kept only her as his wife. If that was not true love, what was?
Qian Jiaoniang patted her chest where she had choked, “Eldest Sister, you really know how to talk!”
“Where did I say anything wrong?”
“You didn’t say anything right—Xing Muzheng and I are just living our days as an ordinary married couple. What ‘deep love,’ what ‘devotion,’ you make it sound so syrupy.”
As the two were speaking, Chunwu walked over holding a branch of Snow-defying Red, and held it out with both hands before Qian Jiaoniang. Qian Jiaoniang lifted her eyes to look at her; Chunwu also looked straight at her.
…Since when did this bodyguard girl take a liking to her? Why did she not know? And as a married woman, could she even have such relations with another woman?
“Madam, for you,” said Chunwu, pushing the flower closer.
Qian Jiaoniang: “…”
Qian Meiniang burst out laughing. “Miss Chunwu, that flower should be given to the young man you fancy—what are you giving it to your Madam for?”
Chunwu said, “It isn’t from me. The Marquis ordered me to give it.”
Qian Jiaoniang’s eyelid twitched. Xing Muzheng had been away from Yuzhou these past days—she didn’t even know what he was busy with. These two years he often went out. But when had he told Chunwu to send her flowers?
Qian Meiniang asked in surprise, “The Marquis is back?”
Chunwu shook her head. “The Marquis hasn’t returned. He instructed me before he left—said he was afraid Madam might get envious seeing others receive flowers at the Flower Grove Banquet, so he told me to give you one.”
Qian Jiaoniang’s face flushed scarlet. Inwardly she spat at Xing Muzheng—who was envious!
But Qian Meiniang laughed uproariously. Nudging Qian Jiaoniang with her elbow, she teased, “And you still say I spoke wrongly!” This kind of favor, now that was one-of-a-kind!
Qian Jiaoniang awkwardly accepted the flower from Chunwu, and looking at that dazzling Snow-defying Red, she remembered that last year he had also, masked, given her one. Her thoughts drifted even further.
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