On the final day, Cheng Danruo held her free clinic only for the morning. As the afternoon sun grew too harsh, she instead spent the time transcribing scriptures in the meditation room.
Since it was her grandmother’s death anniversary, and she had come to the temple, she felt she ought to make some gesture – copying a few scriptures as an offering was her way of showing sincerity.
Cheng Danruo adjusted her mindset, treating it as calligraphy practice, and leisurely passed the afternoon.
Toward evening, Bai Mu, taking advantage of Nanny Hao stepping out to fetch the meal, quietly slipped thirty taels of silver to Bai Zhi, saying it was consultation fees. But Bai Zhi refused to accept it. “My mistress has made it clear that this visit is for free clinic, and she will not take any fees.”
Bai Mu said, “Doctor Cheng has worked hard for many days. If she takes nothing at all, how could we feel at ease?”
Though Bai Zhi was not particularly quick-witted, she was obedient enough and firmly declined to accept.
Bai Mu had no choice but to return and report back.
Xie Xuanying did not insist.
The next morning, they set out on their return journey after breakfast. Before leaving, Xie Xuanying organized the calculated materials for the dike repairs, handed them over to Abbot Mengjue, and donated one hundred and fifty taels of silver.
Bai Mu explained the details on behalf of his master. “One hundred taels are for the dike repairs, and fifty taels are for the cost of the everlasting lamp that Doctor Cheng has lit in the temple.”
Abbot Mengjue was surprised. “Oh?”
“Doctor Cheng would not accept the consultation fees,” Bai Mu explained.
Abbot Mengjue moved his prayer beads and smiled. “I see.”
Then, at the time of parting, he said meaningfully to Yan Hongzhi, “The disciple you have taken in does have quite the ‘Pure Sincerity’ air.”
By “Pure Sincerity,” he was of course referring to the School of Pure Sincerity.
Yan Hongzhi did not grasp his meaning and merely took it as praise for his student, happily accepting the compliment.
Xie Xuanying also noticed nothing unusual. Having been lavished with praise since childhood until his ears grew calloused, he merely made a courteous bow and took his leave.
The carriage wheels rolled into the distance and disappeared beyond the horizon.
As the sky grew brighter, around midday, the Chen family’s carriage arrived.
Of course, compared to the cloud-patterned green-canopied carriage prepared by Xie Xuanying, Cheng Danruo, being a commoner, could only ride in a plain-headed carriage with black oil-cloth and dark gauze curtains.
Nor was it pulled by a horse, but by a mule.
Fortunately, neither Cheng Danruo nor Bai Zhi weighed much, and Nanny Hao was still ill and causing no trouble, so the pace was not too slow. Pushing on as fast as they could, they finally made it back to Songjiang Prefecture before nightfall.
After a few days of respite, it was time to re-enter the gilded cage once more.
Cheng Danruo pulled herself together, and her first order of business was to pay her respects to Old Madam Chen at Xuancao Hall.
Just as she had expected – after being away for several days, Old Madam Chen was already somewhat displeased. She asked, with neither warmth nor coldness, “Back already?”
“Pay my respects to you, Old Madam.” Cheng Danruo dropped into a full curtsy and performed the proper greeting ceremony to the letter.
Old Madam Chen’s expression remained indifferent. “Rise.”
Cheng Danruo got up, deliberately and quite conspicuously studied the old lady’s complexion, then let out a breath of relief and broke into a delighted smile. “Seeing that you are in such good spirits, my mind is at ease. These past few days away, without your care, I could neither eat well nor sleep soundly.”
The flattery was a bit insincere, but no one was about to call her out on it.
Old Madam Chen’s expression softened somewhat.
Cheng Danruo quickly presented a string of prayer beads. “These are bodhi seeds that I asked the temple’s eminent monks to consecrate and chant sutras over, to bless you with freedom from all ailments and longevity.”
Few elderly people are not superstitious, and even fewer do not cherish the wish for a long life.
Old Madam Chen’s displeasure turned to delight, and she patted the back of Cheng Danruo’s hand with her withered fingers, saying approvingly, “You have thoughtfulness.”
“That’s the least I could do.” Cheng Danruo lowered her head, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I do hope you won’t find it lacking.”
“It’s enough that you keep me in your thoughts.” Old Madam Chen’s words seemed to carry a deeper meaning.
Cheng Danruo fell silent at once, though inwardly she felt quite helpless.
In truth, before Old Madam Chen fell ill, the relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law had not been particularly bad.
Old Madam Chen had been a widow who raised two sons on her own. She was strong-willed by nature and commanded absolute authority in the inner household. Lady Huang, coming from a good family, was virtuous and filial. When she bore no son, she took the initiative to find concubines for her husband, and she managed the household affairs with such order that no one could find fault.
However, after Old Madam Chen’s stroke, everything changed.
A grave illness is trying enough on its own. When a person lies bedridden day after day, unable to move, needing to be fed and having their chamber pot handled for them, it puts their psyche through an immense ordeal. Many patients who were perfectly reasonable before their illness become eccentric and obstinate afterward, often tormenting their family members.
In modern times, one could hire a caretaker or a nurse, but in ancient times, no matter how many maidservants there were, if the mother-in-law decided to make things difficult for her daughter-in-law, who could object?
That was “filial piety.”
So long as Old Madam Chen specifically requested her daughter-in-law’s attendance, Lady Huang had to be by her side all day long, administering medicine, wiping her down, and emptying the chamber pot.
The once-tolerable relationship between the two women deteriorated sharply in just half a year.
During that time, Cheng Danruo had also suffered greatly – sleep-deprived, anxious, and depressed, losing clumps of hair. It drove her to take a desperate gamble, charging ahead with a reckless integration of Chinese and Western methods.
Fortunately, her luck held. Old Madam Chen gradually recovered. As a result, Cheng Danruo won the old lady’s favor, and even Master Chen praised her on several occasions, helping her establish a foothold in the Chen family.
Yet the grudge between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law had taken root.
Lady Huang resented the old lady for tormenting her, while the old lady resented her daughter-in-law for defying her at every turn. The knot between them grew tighter and tighter, to the point where they were now using the grandson’s marriage arrangements as a battlefield for their power struggles.
Cheng Danruo wanted absolutely no part in it.
One was the de facto authority, the other the nominal head – neither could be offended.
She played dumb, pulled out all the stops to coax the old lady into temporarily forgetting the matter, and saw her settled for the night. Only then did she head to the main courtyard to pay her respects to Lady Huang.
To be honest, it was already past the proper hour. Lady Huang had already finished dinner and was in the middle of removing her makeup and washing up.
Upon hearing the maid’s announcement, she could not be bothered to dress again and casually dismissed it. “Tell her I’ve heard. Let her rest well and come again tomorrow.”
The maid relayed the message verbatim.
Cheng Danruo said nothing. She performed the proper salute outside the room, observing all due formalities, and only then returned to her own chambers.
Zi Su had already heated the water and was preparing to attend to her bath.
“I can manage on my own.” Cheng Danruo politely declined the maid’s help and undid her hair to wash herself.
As her skin sank into the hot water, her tense body finally had a moment to relax.
It really wasn’t easy.
Taking a bath in ancient times was a cumbersome affair – water had to be heated, care had to be taken not to catch a chill, and twice a month in winter was already considered good. In summer, one could be a little more indulgent, but in the end, she was living in someone else’s home and had to endure what she could.
In her past life, she could have cherries whenever she wanted. Now, she didn’t even have the freedom to bathe.
How had she ended up in such a state?
Cheng Danruo leaned against the rim of the wooden tub, staring blankly into space.
Thinking back to when she had first transmigrated, she had once harbored grand ambitions: she didn’t need every prince and noble to fall for her – surely, with her modern medical knowledge, becoming the second Tan Yunxian wasn’t too much to ask for? [1]
Then reality had taught her a harsh lesson.
In the beginning, her father had not wanted to teach her medicine. His few medical books were his treasures – moving even one would earn her a scolding. It was only later, when no second child came along, that he reluctantly relaxed his standards and taught her some basic pharmacology.
By that time, Cheng Danruo had already come to understand how difficult life in ancient times could be. She abandoned her unrealistic fantasies and focused solely on studying hard, hoping to earn her father’s recognition and gain a little more say in her own future – so that she wouldn’t be married off blindly, ignorant of everything, and die in childbirth at fifteen or sixteen.
That was modest and practical enough, wasn’t it?
Once again, she was taught a lesson by reality.
War came – death, soldiers, chaos. Her entire family perished, and she was left to live under someone else’s roof. She had once cursed patriarchy a hundred times over, but only when she truly had no parents did she understand that “freedom” meant being “left to be bullied at will.”
Her life goals had been lowered again and again, until now she had only the humblest request.
-To live like a human being.
And what was the result? She was caught in a marriage crisis once more.
She had let go of the quite decent Scholar Lu, only to find the next prospect was a man to be shared with others. She had planned to take refuge in becoming a nun as her final escape, only to discover the law did not permit it, completely cutting off that route.
Was she simply too foolish, wasting the reputation of a transmigrated woman? Or was the world simply too harsh, where women in ancient times weren’t even treated as human beings?
Perhaps her most correct path was to have seized hold of that so-called Lu Zijie at the Shangsi Festival, married him, supported his studies and raised his children, and waited until he achieved fame and success to earn her an honorable title?
At the very thought, goosebumps broke out all over her body.
No. Absolutely not.
Cheng Danruo clenched her jaw and thought to herself: If I truly made such a choice, I would have completely turned into a person of this era.
What difference would there be between living like that and being dead?
I must never sink to such a state.
Cheng Danruo resolved herself in silence.
Two days later, Bai Zhi’s mother came to call, requesting an audience with Cheng Danruo.
She was an old servant of the Chen family, so Lady Huang had no reason to stop her and allowed her to meet her former mistress.
Though she had already been granted freedom and was now a commoner, Nanny Bai remained very courteous and paid her respects to Cheng Danruo according to the old formalities. This was only proper – the custom of the time held that once a servant, always a servant.
Even if a child of the Bai family achieved fame and success, they would forever remain a step below Cheng Danruo. Only thus would they not be seen as forgetting past kindnesses; otherwise, people would point fingers and call them ungrateful.
“How do you do, miss? Have you been well lately?” Nanny Bai asked with concern.
“Quite well,” Cheng Danruo replied, treating her as a guest. “Please, have a seat.”
Only then did Nanny Bai sit down, perching slightly to one side, and state her purpose. “We grew some melons and fruits at home, and they’ve ripened recently. I picked some specially for you to try. There’s also a basket of peaches – not worth much, but they are a small token of my humble affection.”
“Thank you for thinking of me,” said Cheng Danruo. “How are you and Bai Kui faring?”
“Thanks to your blessings, we are both well,” Nanny Bai said. “I am only concerned about Bai Zhi – I hope she has been serving you competently?”
“She is very capable. Among those around me, she is the most attentive.”
After a round of somewhat formal pleasantries, they finally came to the main topic.
Nanny Bai asked, “You sent word through Bai Zhi – what instructions do you have for me?”
“About the matter I asked you to look into – have you learned anything?”
“You mean the matter of establishing a female-headed household.” Nanny Bai’s tone carried a note of hesitation, but she nonetheless relayed what she had found out.
According to the laws of Great Xia, women were permitted to establish their own households, which could generally be divided into two categories. The first was that of “fragmented households” – namely, households without a husband or son, where a woman served as the head. These were mostly widows, with only a very small number being “unmarried daughter households,” meaning households headed by an unmarried woman still living in her family home.
As fragmented households, such female-headed households were exempt from corvée labor and miscellaneous duties, though they were still required to pay taxes. On the whole, they were considered a privileged group.
The second category consisted of families that had a female member serving in the palace – whether as a lady-in-waiting, a musician or dancer, or a female sedan-chair bearer. Such families could be reclassified as female households, known as court-service female households, banquet-entertainment female households, or sedan-bearing female households. These families, regardless of whether they had male members, were likewise exempt from corvée labor.
What Cheng Danruo had wanted to inquire about was, naturally, the former – an unmarried woman establishing her own household.
This was another backup path she had prepared for herself.
However, things were not that simple.
Nanny Bai spoke with difficulty, “A female-headed household does not carry a good reputation. Unless there is absolutely no other choice, very few families opt to establish one.”
Cheng Danruo had already braced herself for this, yet she pressed on. “Then can I establish a household of my own?”
“Miss, you would need to go to the local authorities to verify and supplement the Yellow Register, and then have your household registered under a supplementary category.”
The Yellow Register was the census and household registration book. Cheng Danruo’s original registration had naturally been lost – or rather, it had always been kept by the head of the household, and she had never even seen it. Given that she had fled from the war, she fell under the category of a refugee. According to regulations, if one was over a thousand li from their original place of registration, they could be registered at their current location, and she met that condition.
But the problem was… “If this matter does not have Master Chen’s consent, I fear it cannot be done.” Nanny Bai clearly did not recommend that she pursue this course.
Translator’s Notes:
[1] Tan Yunxian (1461–1556) was a renowned female physician during the Ming Dynasty in China, and one of the few women in pre-modern Chinese history to achieve widespread recognition for her medical practice.
