By the time Doctor Zhang arrived, Lady Mo was already barely drawing breath, exhaling far more than she inhaled.
The old physician could no longer maintain his usual composure. He hurriedly took out his needles and began treating her.
But there was another problem. The acupoints on the head and neck were relatively straightforward: the maids could hold the patient down while the physician administered the needles as usual. But points such as Yanglingquan on the lower leg, Sanyinjiao on the foot, and Ququan on the knee were all located in intimate areas.
A physician skilled enough might be able to insert the needles through clothing, but Lady Mo was convulsing incessantly. She was already extremely difficult to needle, and having to do so through her clothes made it harder still.
Sweat appeared on Doctor Zhang’s forehead. Several times, he raised his hand but simply could not bring himself to make the insertion.
The candlelight flickered, casting a murky gloom over the room that made one’s heart tremble.
Watching from the side, Cheng Danruo finally could not hold back any longer. “Sir, why don’t you tell me where the needles should go? I can administer them for you. Would that be acceptable?”
Lady Huang saw that there was already blood on the bed and feared that the child might not survive, so she did not object.
Doctor Zhang, however, refused. His eyes widened. “Nonsense! How can a human life be treated as a game? If anything goes wrong, can you bear the responsibility?”
Not only that, he even turned his body deliberately to block Cheng Danruo’s view. Only after steadying himself did he finally bring down the golden needle in his hand.
Time passed second by second. Gradually, Lady Mo’s convulsions weakened, and it seemed the treatment was having a very good effect.
Lady Huang breathed a sigh of relief.
She was no longer young, after all, and could not endure being awake all night. Seeing that the situation had stabilized, she instructed the maids to “take good care of her,” then prepared to leave and get some rest herself.
As for Master Chen, he was even simpler. He had not come to see her at all. He had merely sent a maid to ask about her condition, then gone to sleep early in the front courtyard. He might not even have known that Lady Mo had just narrowly escaped death.
The only one who refused to leave was Chen Wan-niang, who stubbornly remained at her birth mother’s side.
Lady Huang was indulgent enough to allow it, but she would not permit Fifth Young Master to visit. She insisted that his wet nurse take him back to bed.
“He’s still so young. What if he gets frightened?” There were only two male heirs in the household, and Lady Huang was absolutely unwilling to take the risk.
As for Cheng Danruo, she also said, “There’s no way the Old Madam can be left unattended. Dan-niang, you should go back as well.”
“Yes.”
There was nothing she could do to help by staying, so Cheng Danruo obediently left.
The following day was the sixth day of the sixth month.
In ancient times, this was a minor festival known as “Double Six,” or the “Tiankuang Festival.” The main activities were airing books and clothing in the sun.
Early that morning, everything at Xuancao Hall proceeded as usual. Lady Mo’s condition had had no apparent effect on the household at all. The maids went about their duties in an orderly fashion, helping Old Madam Chen rise, wash, dress, and eat her breakfast.
Cheng Danruo was somewhat restless. With the eclampsia having progressed this far, they really ought to consider terminating the pregnancy, but…
Unfortunately, today Old Madam Chen happened to have an especially long list of things to attend to.
She began by asking, “Today is the sixth. Has the tea been offered yet?”
The maid said it had not, which displeased her somewhat. “We mustn’t make the ancestors wait.” Then she ordered Cheng Danruo, “Brew some plain tea.”
Cheng Danruo had never been trained in the art of tea-making, and the result was decidedly mediocre. Old Madam Chen smelled the tea and showed a trace of displeasure, but it was already getting late, so she let it go and had the plain tea offered before the ancestral tablets in the small Buddhist hall.
Next came breakfast. Unexpectedly, she nearly choked on a mouthful of porridge and pastries, launching into a tremendous fit of coughing.
Cheng Danruo had no choice but to put down her chopsticks and pat the old madam’s back to help her catch her breath. She then fed her half a cup of warm water before she finally recovered.
But the incident had put her in a foul mood. Barely had she settled back down when she ordered the maids to clear out the storeroom and bring out the Buddhist scriptures and bolts of fabric to be aired in the sun.
“Dan-niang, you go sort through the scriptures,” Old Madam Chen said. “Those girls are so clumsy. Who knows if they might end up showing disrespect to the Buddha.”
Cheng Danruo took a deep breath.
Airing books was a major undertaking in ancient times. Every book had to be opened and spread out under the sun, then packed away again with camphor added to keep away mold and bookworms.
This was especially important in Jiangnan, where the plum rains were so frequent. If the books were not aired and dried now, the weather would remain overcast and rainy for days to come.
But when the old madam gave an order, even Master Chen had to comply, let alone Cheng Danruo.
She had no choice but to open the book chests and turn through the Buddhist scriptures one by one, laying them out in the courtyard to air. She also had to inspect them for damage, repairing those that could be mended and having those beyond repair recopied.
She kept at it until noon. After lunch, Old Madam Chen retired for her midday rest, and Cheng Danruo finally found a moment to slip away to Jinxia Court.
Along the way, she kept turning over in her mind how she should broach the subject. It was a sensitive matter. A concubine’s very purpose was to bear children; compared with her safety, the child in her womb was likely to be considered more important.
Before she had even entered the courtyard, she heard the sound of crying.
Her footsteps faltered. She looked at the little maid holding back the curtain.
“Miss, the lady…” The little maid’s eyes were red, her voice choked with tears. “She’s already gone.”
Cheng Danruo immediately regretted it.
She had come too late.
From inside, Master Chen’s voice could be heard faintly.
“She simply wasn’t blessed with enough fortune,” he sighed. “She was only a concubine, after all. There’s no need to make a great affair of the funeral.”
Lady Huang, however, advised him, “She did serve you all these years, and she has Wan-niang and Gong Ge’er. If you ask me, we should get her a pine coffin, have a Daoist perform a ritual, and let some monks recite a few sutras. Then she can pass on peacefully, without lingering over the children.”
Master Chen immediately thought this made sense. If their mother became attached to her two children, it would be one thing with Wan-niang, who was already grown, but if she clung to Gong Ge’er, that would be troublesome. Better to send her off peacefully.
“Do as you suggest,” he said. “As for Mother, just mention it to her when you get the opportunity.”
Lady Huang agreed.
Master Chen stroked his beard and glanced toward the bedchamber, where the sound of mourning still rose and fell. A wave of emotion came over him, and he sighed.
“What a shame about the buttery snail pastries.”
Cheng Danruo, who was just entering the room, stopped dead.
She instinctively raised her head and looked at the person who had spoken. Yes, it really was Master Chen. And the expression on his face was so sincere that it was obvious his lament had come straight from the heart.
What a shame… the buttery snail pastries.
The buttery snail pastries.
An icy chill crept inch by inch up her spine, all the way to the crown of her head. The tips of Cheng Danruo’s fingers went numb. She felt like a patient who had suddenly suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, utterly unable to move.
She knew that people in ancient times could be cruel enough to treat human lives as nothing. But after all these years since she had transmigrated to this world, she had never imagined that the words that would chill her most would not be the old servant bursting into the household back then and telling her grandmother, “The Oirat are coming,” but this casual, offhand lament here and now.
“Dan-niang is here.” Master Chen was completely unaware of what was going on inside her. He said kindly, “Good timing. Go comfort Wan-niang. She’s still young. Tell her not to grieve too deeply and harm her health.”
After standing rigid for a second or two, Cheng Danruo regained her senses and curtsied. “Yes.”
Master Chen left.
“Ah…” How strange. Once he was gone, Lady Huang actually showed a trace of sorrow. She slowly sipped her hot tea and said to Cheng Danruo, “Lady Mo simply wasn’t blessed with enough fortune. Such a pity.”
Cheng Danruo pressed her lips together.
“Though she was a concubine, she was still half an elder to you,” Lady Huang said. “Go pay your respects.”
“Yes.”
Cheng Danruo lifted the bed curtains and walked into the inner room.
Chen Wan-niang was sprawled over the bed, weeping uncontrollably. “Mother, Mother! Look at your Wan-niang! You can’t leave Wan-niang and Gong Ge’er behind, Mother!”
Under ordinary circumstances, with the scheming mind she possessed, she would never have openly called out “Mother” like that. But at this moment, who cared about such rules?
“Mother, please…” Chen Wan-niang clutched her birth mother’s hand, her voice hoarse. “Please, don’t leave me behind.”
Die’er held her tightly. “Miss, you mustn’t. Madam is still outside.”
Cheng Danruo glanced toward the outer room. Lady Huang must have heard, but she merely closed her eyes and composed herself, pretending she had heard nothing.
“Miss, please, try to persuade our young mistress,” Die’er pleaded.
Cheng Danruo walked over and crouched beside Chen Wan-niang. “Gong Ge’er is still so young. You’re his older sister.”
“Who asked for your fake concern?” Chen Wan-niang shoved her away. “It’s not like you’re dead…”
Only after the words left her mouth did she remember that her cousin had not merely lost her mother – her father, grandmother, and all her other relatives were gone as well.
She bit her lip and turned her head away, refusing to look at her.
“Now that your mother is gone, you have to be even more careful,” Cheng Danruo said. “Don’t do anything foolish. Madam, Master, and Old Madam are still here.”
Chen Wan-niang said nothing, tears streaming silently down her face.
“Madam said she’ll give your mother a proper funeral. She won’t let her be sent off poorly,” Cheng Danruo said. “You should thank Madam.”
Die’er also tried to comfort her. “Yes, that is right.”
Chen Wan-niang still did not answer, but she did not call out for her mother again.
Cheng Danruo rose to her feet and looked at Lady Mo, who no longer breathed.
She was only a little over twenty. She had been beautiful and elegant, exceptionally talented with words, able to compose poetry, play the qin, and prepare tea. Yet a woman as beautiful as this could simply die, just like that.
Will this happen to me too?
When I die someday, will the last thing they say about me be, “What a pity – we lost her medical skills”?
Cheng Danruo shuddered. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and flee this great household immediately. But reason stopped her. Leaving this place did not mean escaping the cage. It might even put her in an even worse one.
Was there really no other way out?
On that same sixth day of June, by the lakeside in Suzhou, Xie Xuanying was drinking wine with his teacher.
This, too, was one of the customs of the Tiankuang Festival.
The sixth day of June was said to be the birthday of the lotus. Lotus stamens were picked and steeped in wine, creating what was known as Bifang Wine.
The teacher and his disciple drifted across Taihu Lake in a boat, drinking wine and admiring the scenery while sampling Suqiongye, Banglinxian, and fish soup. It was both relaxed and pleasant, yet still possessed an air of refinement.
During their leisurely conversation, Xie Xuanying brought up the letter from several days before.
“Has Madam’s health taken a turn for the worse again?” he asked.
Yan Hongzhi nodded, clearly concerned about his wife. “Alas, indeed it has. The physician says it is an illness left behind by childbirth. She has been taking medicine for several years now, yet she has never truly recovered.”
Xie Xuanying said cautiously, “A physician who only meets with her in passing cannot possibly tend to her regularly. Why not invite a female physician to stay by her side? She could both help nurse her health and ease her loneliness.”
Yan Hongzhi was somewhat tempted by the idea.
It was not that there were no physicians skilled in treating women’s ailments. But men and women were subject to certain boundaries. At most, a male physician could examine a woman’s complexion and take her pulse. There were matters that could not easily be spoken of, making proper treatment difficult. A female physician, however, would have none of these concerns, and administering acupuncture would also be more convenient.
But this presented another difficulty.
For a woman to be literate was already exceedingly rare; one who was also skilled in medicine was rarer still. And as for midwives and women who made their living going from household to household, how much medical knowledge could they truly possess?
“A good physician is difficult to find,” Yan Hongzhi said helplessly.
When one’s teacher was troubled, it was the disciple’s duty to shoulder the burden. So Xie Xuanying said, “My maternal aunt is married into the Gu family and knows the people and customs of Jiangnan well. Why don’t I write her a letter and ask her to make inquiries on my behalf? If she finds someone, all the better. If not, it will have cost us nothing more than a few words.”
Yan Hongzhi naturally had no objection.
After returning from their outing on the lake, Xie Xuanying went back to the garden where he was staying – a secondary residence of the Marquis of Jinghai’s household. He ordered Bai Mu to grind the ink and lay out paper, then sat down to write a letter to Madam Gu.
He first explained the situation: his teacher’s wife was unwell, and although several physicians had treated her, she had shown no improvement. She needed long-term care, so he hoped to find a female physician in Jiangnan, preferably one who was literate, skilled at treating women’s ailments, and unencumbered by family obligations.
After thinking it over, he felt the requirements were too specific and might seem suspicious, so he rewrote them: exceptional medical skills, outstanding character, preferably literate, and ideally someone willing to travel to the capital.
That still did not seem quite right.
He had no choice but to embellish further, adding that if the physician had children, they could come along as well.
That way, it would no longer sound as though he were specifically looking for an unmarried woman.
Xie Xuanying was just about to set down his brush when he worried that Cheng Danruo might be overlooked. After thinking it over again and again, he added: Please make inquiries about several candidates, just in case.
Once the ink had dried, he folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, and handed it to a servant. “Have someone deliver it to Luxiang Garden as soon as possible.”
“Yes.”
After Bai Mu left, Xie Xuanying finally took out the ornate multi-compartment box beside him and put the mutton-fat jade paperweight back inside. Then he gently pressed a cloud-patterned spot in the corner. The bottom panel shifted, revealing a hidden compartment underneath.
Inside were several sheets of paper he had obtained from Cheng Danruo.
He had always intended to return them to Miss Cheng, but somehow, circumstances had thwarted him every time. He had even considered burning them and putting an end to the matter, yet each time, hesitation had taken hold of him, and he could never bring himself to do it.
Once he had repaid the favor he owed her, he would return them to their rightful owner.
Thinking this, Xie Xuanying once again abandoned the idea of burning them.
Translator’s Words:
Sorry guys, I will be going away for a week and won’t have access to my laptop, so I won’t be uploading any translations until the 28th. However, once I’m back, I’ll start uploading two chapters a day!
