Early the next morning, Lady Huang brought her two daughters to Xuancao Hall to pay their respects.
Since suffering her stroke, Old Madam Chen had become rather reluctant to see them. She mumbled a few words from her bed before closing her eyes and ignoring everyone.
Cheng Danruo translated for her. “Old Madam says that you have been working hard managing the household. If you are feeling unwell, there is no need to come so early.”
“It is only right that I show my filial respect to Mother.” Lady Huang had been raised with excellent manners and understood the importance of filial piety. She immediately took the bowl of medicine brought by the maid Duoxi, tested it herself, and then served it to Old Madam Chen.
Old Madam Chen drank two perfunctory mouthfuls before asking, “Xiao Ge’er?”
“I received his letter yesterday. He says there will be an assessment next month, so he won’t be coming home this month,” Lady Huang replied.
Old Madam Chen nodded and waved her hand.
“Madam, let me do it.” Cheng Danruo took the medicine from her and slowly fed it to the old lady.
Lady Huang smiled and nodded in agreement before sitting down to report on the household affairs. “The Shangsi Festival is coming up soon. I was thinking of having two new outfits made for Rou-niang and Wan-niang. Although Master is an honest and upright official, we cannot let people look down on the Chen family.”
Old Madam Chen looked at her two granddaughters, both lovely as flowers, and gave a faint nod. Her words were somewhat slurred as she instructed, “They’re coming of age… you must pay attention… find them suitable families.”
Before she could finish, the two girls blushed and said, “We would still like to stay by Grandmother and Mother’s side for another two years.”
It was exactly the sort of response expected of them. The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law exchanged a smile and waved for the girls to leave.
Chen Rou-niang and Chen Wan-niang exchanged a glance, then bashfully retreated into the adjoining room.
Cheng Danruo remained where she was, patiently feeding the medicine to the old lady.
Old Madam Chen glanced at her and said, “Dan-niang’s… marriage.”
“Rest assured, Mother. Whatever outfits I have made for Rou-niang and Wan-niang, I’ll have the same number made for Dan-niang. I treat her as if she were my own daughter.” Lady Huang spoke with utmost sincerity.
Cheng Danruo couldn’t help curving her lips into a smile. She quickly lowered herself into a formal bow. “Thank you, Madam, for caring for me.”
Lady Huang patted her hand and continued, “A few days ago, I went to Luxiang Garden, and Madam Gu gave me some lotus root starch. I’ll have some sent over for Mother to try later. If you find it agreeable, I’ll ask someone to procure more.”
“You’ve been very thoughtful.” The tension finally left Old Madam Chen’s face.
Lady Huang hurriedly replied, “It is only right that I show my filial respect to Mother.”
The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law were getting along harmoniously, but Cheng Danruo could only sigh inwardly.
Who would have thought that after returning to ancient times, even lotus root starch would become a rare delicacy?
Luxiang Garden was one of Shanghai’s famous gardens, and its owner was a descendant of the renowned scholar Gu Ru. The Gu family was a prominent local clan, with several members who had entered officialdom. Madam Gu was the eldest daughter-in-law of the clan leader, and she and Lady Huang had an especially cordial relationship.
Of course, it would have been difficult for them not to be cordial.
In ancient times, imperial authority did not extend fully into the countryside, while officials appointed to serve outside the capital were generally outsiders. To have a smooth official career, they needed to maintain good relations with the local great clans.
But back to the lotus root starch. At this time, the lotus root starch from Luxiang Garden was a famous specialty, and it could not be bought elsewhere. In another timeline, it would not become commercially available until the Qing dynasty, when it sold for as much as one and a half to one and six-tenths taels of silver per five hundred milliliters.
This dynasty, however, was neither Ming nor Qing. It was called Xia, and it had inherited the Yuan dynasty’s realm.
As luck would have it, according to the Five Elements, Xia belonged to Fire, which also corresponded with the Zhu Ming dynasty. Yet this Gu clan was no longer that Gu clan, and Luxiang Garden was no longer the same Luxiang Garden.
Perhaps the only thing that remained unchanged was the lotus root starch.
Once Old Madam Chen and Lady Huang had finished their little performance of familial harmony, the morning’s formal visit could finally be considered over.
Cheng Danruo saw Lady Huang out.
Lady Huang spoke gently. “The Shangsi Festival is almost here. You shouldn’t spend all your time cooped up at home. It would be better if you came out with us for a little outing.”
“Thank you for thinking of me,” Cheng Danruo said gratefully. Living in ancient times, there were few opportunities to leave the house throughout the year. The fact that Lady Huang was willing to take her along, without putting on airs or making demands, was itself a kindness.
“You’re a good girl. Don’t worry.” Lady Huang smiled as though hinting at something, yet said nothing more.
Cheng Danruo lowered her head without replying.
That afternoon, an embroiderer came to take their measurements and make their clothes.
The textile industry in Jiangnan was highly developed. Aside from the famous Gu embroidery – created by the daughters-in-law of the Gu family of Luxiang Garden – any shop daring enough to make clothing was bound to have exceptionally skilled embroiderers.
Spring was neither particularly hot nor cold, making it the perfect season for wearing silk gauze and fine woven fabrics.
The fashion of the time was the ten-panel skirt, with dozens of fine pleats around the waist that rippled like water whenever the wearer moved. Common patterns included large and small floral roundels, flying birds, and landscapes.
It was said that rich, vivid colors were all the rage in the capital, with gold and silver threads woven into the brocade to create a dazzling effect. Lady Huang had once mentioned a type of fur brocade made by weaving bird feathers directly into the fabric. It was extraordinarily luxurious and reminded Cheng Danruo of Jia Baoyu’s famous magpie-feather cloak from Dream of the Red Chamber.
The price was equally astonishing. Each bolt was about 12 feet long and cost more than 50 taels of silver.
What did that mean in practical terms?
The harvest was good this year, and a dou – roughly 18 pounds of rice – cost 120 copper cash, equivalent to about 0.1 tael of silver. Even ordinary people considered that expensive.
Since 10 mace made one tael, fifty taels amounted to the equivalent of more than 500 dou of rice.
At roughly 18 pounds per dou, that came to more than 9,000 pounds of rice.
Rice is cheap by modern standards. At a generous 3 yuan per kilogram, that much rice would cost around 12,000 yuan today. And considering that many people in ancient times could barely afford to eat rice at all, its relative value would have been even higher.
A garment like that was probably affordable only to the young masters of a Duke’s household.
In Jiangnan, however, people tended to favor more understated elegance. Silk fabrics were generally embroidered with landscapes, and the craftsmanship of the fabric itself did not have to be quite so elaborate. Even so, the two Chen girls were having two complete outfits each made today – one to wear underneath and one over it – and although the fabrics were not particularly fine, the cost would still come to twenty or thirty taels of silver.
Master Chen’s monthly salary was 24 shi of rice. Since 10 dou made one shi, that meant 240 dou, or roughly 4,320 pounds of rice. At the prevailing rice price, this was equivalent to about 24 taels of silver.
Although officials did not exactly rely on their salaries to make a living, Cheng Danruo felt thoroughly embarrassed after doing the math. There was no way she could bring herself to have an outfit made that expensive.
Cotton cloth was much more sensible.
Shanghai was famous for its standard cotton cloth, and the same was true of Songjiang Prefecture at this time. The prices were remarkably reasonable, too: even the finest cotton fabric cost only about 0.2 tael of silver per bolt.
A complete new outfit, inside and out, including the cost of labor, would come to roughly 0.3 tael of silver.
It was completely natural, pure cotton cloth. What more could she possibly ask for?
Lady Huang kept saying things like, “You’re being much too formal with me,” but she made no attempt whatsoever to persuade Cheng Danruo to change her choice of fabric.
Instead, she simply gave her a pearl hairpin as compensation – or, more accurately, as a reward.
That night, Cheng Danruo boiled some gauze in a small pot. While she waited, she picked up a length of thread and practiced tying various surgical knots by touch. It was a basic skill she had never let go of since crossing into this world. She could easily tie a hundred knots a minute, each one perfectly flat and secure.
Simple knots, square knots, triple knots – the length of cotton thread was quickly used up.
She switched to her other hand and continued.
It wasn’t as though she was short of thread, anyway.
Zisu and Baizhi had long since grown accustomed to their mistress’s exercises. They regarded it as nothing more than one of her little habits and paid it no mind, concentrating instead on making her shoes.
As they worked, they chatted.
Zisu said, “Honestly, Miss, during the Shangsi Festival, all the wives and young ladies will be going out together for the spring outing. They have such sharp eyes. If you show up wearing cotton clothes, you’ll probably become a laughingstock.”
“Every stitch and thread I use now comes from the Chen family. Even if other people don’t say anything, I should know my own place.” Cheng Danruo put down the knotted thread and used a pair of bronze forceps to pick up the gauze she had sterilized at high temperature. She placed it somewhere clean to dry. “Besides, there are Rou-niang and Wan-niang to consider.”
At the mention of the two legitimate young ladies, Zisu fell silent.
Baizhi finished stitching the sole and handed the shoe to her. “Miss, try it on.”
Cheng Danruo slipped it on. It was soft and thick, and she liked it very much. “Very good. Let’s leave it like this.”
“It would look even better if we embroidered a couple of flowers on it tomorrow and added some beads.” Baizhi hesitated before asking, “Actually, if we took in the opening by half an inch…”
“No.” Cheng Danruo knew that wealthy families had already begun the practice of foot binding. Among ordinary women, who still had to work for a living, it had not yet become widespread. But she would never voluntarily cripple herself. “Don’t bring this up again.”
Her tone was firm. Baizhi moved her lips but did not dare to press the matter any further.
Cheng Danruo rolled up the gauze once it was completely dry, wrapped it carefully in oiled paper, and placed it inside her medical kit.
Only after finishing all this did she call for the two maids to bring water so she could wash up and go to bed.
“You two go and get some rest as well. I don’t need anyone here.”
Having someone stand night watch was a custom reserved for wealthy households. Baizhi had no objection, while Zisu was more than happy to take the opportunity to be lazy. They both answered her and returned to their respective rooms to rest.
Cheng Danruo bolted the door, lowered the bed curtains, and crawled under the covers.
Both maids were hoping that she would go out during the Shangsi Festival, meet some handsome young man of good standing, and settle her lifelong marriage prospects. But Cheng Danruo was going out for an entirely different reason: business.
When everyone went out for a spring outing, it was inevitable that some of the ladies would sprain an ankle, take a tumble, or feel dizzy. It was the perfect opportunity for her to drum up some business – and the other physicians wouldn’t be competing with her.
Amitabha. Hopefully, she could get to know a few wealthy and well-connected ladies this year. Then, if she ever struck out on her own, she could make a living through those connections.
With these wonderful prospects in mind, she decided to brush up on her knowledge of orthopedics.
A faint blue glow lit up beneath the bedclothes.
Day by day, the weather grew warmer, and the new clothes were finally ready.
On the third day of March, the weather was fine and sunny, with warm sunshine overhead. Everyone was in high spirits.
After helping Old Madam Chen take her medicine and eat, Cheng Danruo accompanied Lady Huang and the two young ladies into a carriage and headed out to the countryside for a spring outing.
The Rites of Zhou states: “The female shamans are responsible for purification and bathing at the appropriate times of the year.”
In other words, they were meant to drive away misfortune through purification rituals and bathing with fragrant herbs. By Cheng Danruo’s time, the custom had evolved into feasting and drinking by the water and gathering fragrant herbs.
Since so many women would be venturing outside, the grassy areas along the river had been screened off with silk curtains and partitions in advance. The wives and young ladies who were not permitted to show their faces in public could drink and make merry inside these secluded enclosures.
The carriage stopped at the foot of the mountain. The two maids jumped down and helped Lady Huang and the two Chen girls out.
As far as the eye could see, there were hardly any males over the age of fifteen. The people coming and going were all maids and married women, with perhaps one or two young boys mixed among them.
“Madam Chen.” The wife of Prefect Wu greeted her in the official dialect, exchanging familiar pleasantries with Lady Huang. “These must be Rou-niang and Wan-niang. It’s been so long. They’ve grown into such lovely young ladies.”
The two Chen girls respectfully curtsied. “Greetings, Madam Wu.”
“This is Qiu-niang.” Madam Wu introduced the little girl of about ten standing beside her.
She wore a white silk cross-collar jacket with a pale green satin skirt. A gold hairpin set with gemstones and shaped like an insect rested in her hair. She looked both charming and adorable, yet unmistakably well-born.
“Hello.” Wu Qiu-niang greeted them openly and confidently, speaking in equally fluent official dialect.
The two Chen girls returned the greeting.
Madam Wu linked arms with Lady Huang, and the two women strolled along together, their faces relaxed in a way that was rarely seen. “I believe the Gu family’s pavilion is over there. Let’s go over and pay our respects.”
In theory, within Songjiang’s jurisdiction, Prefect Wu was the highest-ranking official in charge of civil affairs, while Master Chen oversaw the judiciary. The wives of these two leading officials hardly needed to be so deferential to the Gu family.
However, although the head of the Gu clan who remained in his ancestral home held neither office nor official title, he had a younger brother serving at court as a Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel.
Why bother currying favor with them if you weren’t hoping for a promotion and a raise?
The Gu family’s pavilion was indeed impressive. The silk gauze that Cheng Danruo herself couldn’t even bear to use for clothing had been stretched around an enormous area as casually as though it were cheap paper.
Mats had been spread across the grass, with low tables and cushions arranged on top. Maids bustled back and forth carrying tiered food boxes and platters of fruit, transforming this temporary outdoor picnic site into an orderly and comfortable little encampment.
“Madam Gu.” Lady Huang greeted her warmly.
“Madam Chen, you’ve arrived! Come, sit here. Madam Wu, are you feeling better these days? The weather is still alternating between warm and cold, which makes it so easy to catch a chill. You must take good care of yourself.” Madam Gu was indeed worthy of being the principal wife of the Gu clan. She might not have been particularly beautiful, but when it came to social graces, she was second to none. Her warm and attentive greetings soon brought smiles to both ladies’ faces.
Once the elders had finished their greetings, it was time for the younger generation to pay their respects.
Chen Rou-niang, Chen Wan-niang, and Wu Qiu-niang greeted Madam Gu. Madam Gu’s two daughters, Lian-naing and Lan-niang, then greeted Lady Huang and Madam Wu. After that, the young ladies exchanged formal greetings with one another.
For a moment, the scene was a riot of flowers and finery.
