Chapter 10: Knowing Her Again

The day before they reached Lin’an, as dusk was falling, the party halted at a post station.

Wu You surrendered the station voucher and went off to see to the changing of horses and the fodder. The surroundings were all men, and their lodging not yet settled; minding propriety, Jiang Man took Ke Ye out to an open, empty spot.

Even at this dynasty’s greatest extent, Jiang Man’s hometown was a metropolis known to all the world. Setting aside the Kaifeng Eastern Capital beneath the Son of Heaven’s feet, for splendor and abundance of goods, the next was surely Jiangning.

In those days, Jiankang was still called Jiangning Prefecture.

“This Provisional Imperial Capital is truly extraordinary.” Ke Ye murmured. “Still this far from the prefectural seat, and the official road already runs such long stretches of blue stone, with merchants strung out in such a line—it’s like the procession of some great house holding a wedding or a funeral. The post station is enormous too, one of the finest on the whole road.”

“They say Lin’an, even beside Bianjing at its height, steadily held half a head above it. With such splendor, one can well imagine.” Jiang Man gazed at the distant lights. “My brother says a million people live in Lin’an Prefecture. Do you believe it?”

To anyone else the remark would have meant little—past ten thousand, most minds cannot assemble a picture. But this Ke Ye, whom Jiang Man kept always at her side, though only average at the abacus, never once erred—a rare thing indeed.

Hearing it, Ke Ye was duly astonished, and considered. “The Eldest Young Master is surely not mistaken. Only—how much land does Lin’an Prefecture cover? A million souls—how much farmland would it take to feed them?”

“See that rich farmer over there.” Jiang Man looked mildly into the distance. “On this road we’ve met no few grain dealers—many more heading toward Lin’an than coming from it. Have you wondered why?”

Ke Ye nodded thoughtfully. “No wonder Uncle Lu’s letters press for money. Prices in Lin’an Prefecture must be very high; hiring searchers for the mountain would naturally cost more. Oh—Young Miss, once we’re settled tomorrow and I’ve learned the lay of things a few days, might I take leave to find Uncle Lu? Letters travel only with the peddlers, and who knows when they’d arrive. It’s safer for me to make the trip myself, and I can report our new address as well.”

“Speaking of which, I have instructions for you.” Jiang Man had just begun when two richly dressed young men came walking toward them. Looking closely, one seemed to wear official boots with bound edging—but the light was dim, and a hurried glance could not tell the color.

In that hall earlier, many had already stared at mistress and maid, driving them out of doors—but how could hiding ever truly avail?

Jiang Man looked about, could not see Wu You, and was growing anxious—when two attendants stepped out and blocked the men’s path.

The two looked very displeased, but whatever the attendants said, both of them shuddered, looked over no more, and turned back at once.

Just then Wu You came out of the station, and the three crossed paths—the one in official boots bowed first. Wu You, neither servile nor proud, clasped hands and moved away, found the two women, and from a distance made a “please” gesture toward the rooms.

Jiang Man’s heart settled somewhat; head lowered, she hurried over.

This had been her own oversight. That the two men knew Wu You was sheer luck—had it been someone who did not know him—or, at the very worst, someone even Shen Wen could not afford to offend—intent on such insolence, what then could she have done?

She had expected Wu You to chide her, openly or obliquely. Instead he gave only the room number, and not one word besides.

Jiang Man’s heart hung uneasy. She shut doors and windows tight, and together with Ke Ye braced a very heavy chair behind the door. Only then did she breathe out. “Lin’an is full of reckless people; there will be lechers among them. Alone as we are in a strange land, we must be doubly careful.”

“What matters my middling looks? The Young Miss is the delicate one—her beauty is out of this world; of course she draws eyes. If any lecher comes, I’ll pull my hairpin and drive it into his neck!” So saying, Ke Ye grabbed at her silver hairpin, feigning ferocity.

Jiang Man was laughed out of her worry—then turned serious. “That is not how one should speak. A true gentleman knows restraint; even with beauty to topple kingdoms, he need not fear day and night for his good name. It is the base-hearted who think only of themselves and care nothing whether others live or die. When you meet such a man, if calamity comes—does it ask whether your face is fair? Look to yourself in all things; do our own part well, and we need not fear such things befalling us.”

Ke Ye said, “The Young Miss instructs truly. And lately the Young Miss studies so hard and gains so much—even this humble one basks in the glow.”

At the mention of study, Jiang Man thought of Shen Wen. She settled herself at the desk, considered a while, and said, “There was a serious matter I forgot. Tomorrow we present ourselves at Female Scribe Shen’s gate. Days like today, when the two of us can talk like this, will soon be few. If we are assigned to the same place, well and good; if not, then even when you have leisure, do not come seeking me lightly.”

Ke Ye listened closely, brow furrowed, but nodded. “Yes.”

“From now on our Household Master is Female Scribe Shen; in all things the Shen family comes first. When you take leave to seek news, that leave is asked of the Shen family’s steward—not settled by a word to me.” Jiang Man went on. “Your brother’s affairs and all the liaisons must be entrusted to you. To speak plainly: this is a debt I owe you, no longer a duty you owe me. After tomorrow, whether mistress-and-maid endures between us rests wholly on Female Scribe Shen’s will. Do you understand?”

Ke Ye curtsied. “This humble one understands.”

Jiang Man was silent a moment, and said only, “Rest.”

What post she herself would hold in the Shen household—though she turned it over and over, Jiang Man could not bring herself to say it.

Wu You, besides playing the male favorite, had many official duties; Jiang Man, a mere woman—if she was to be used to the full…

What would Shen Wen have her do?

The next day, Wu You himself drove Jiang Man’s carriage. Knowing he must have words to say, she sat at the outermost side of the compartment.

A curtain hung between them; as the horses traveled they kept silent when the road was crowded, and exchanged a few words when it was empty.

Jiang Man attended to Wu You’s every sentence, plumbing the depths—but her learning was shallow after all; often she felt she had thought too little, and at other times, that she fussed too much.

At last Wu You said, “Yesterday this humble one was truly negligent, letting people disturb Young Lady Jiang. I beg your pardon.”

“Not at all—it was my own rashness and clumsiness. I must thank Brother Wu and those two attendants for delivering me.” The words made Jiang Man squirm; though she knew he could not see her, she found herself gathering her sleeves as if to bow.

“Hereafter, Young Lady Jiang will often be out and about, and those serving nearby will sometimes fail you. If some person who doesn’t know his own weight addresses you, say only that you belong to the Shen family—that should spare you much trouble.” Wu You’s voice came through the curtain. “And if, hearing that, someone still presses—then unless he’s drunk past his senses, he is no ordinary person. At that point, parry as you see fit, and when necessary, name yourself outright: Personal Attendant to Female Scribe Shen.”

Jiang Man listened, her worry for her future deepening, and answered, “Yes. Thank you for the guidance, Brother Wu.”

Wu You assented—and at the end, a soft sigh, there and gone.

Jiang Man hesitated over whether to ask, but Wu You had already begun, clearly not meaning to hold it back. “Only, once that name is out, Young Lady Jiang will likely suffer some verbal cuts. In my humble view it cannot be avoided: sooner or later your name will show itself, and the Scribe’s repute is half praise, half blame—what falls on you, I fear, will be only the blame.”

Jiang Man said slowly, “The Scribe acts boldly; that some in Lin’an look askance is only natural.”

Wu You laughed heartily. “A sheltered young lady indeed—how delicately you put it.”

“Forgive my presumption.”

Even through only the stewards’ gossip within her own boudoir, Jiang Man knew Shen Wen’s name was poor and her person ever controversial—from that she could imagine how vile the talk outside must run.

“There is a saying in Lin’an. Hear it, Young Lady Jiang.” Wu You said, “Were the Scribe born a man, she would one day be a Destined Treacherous Chancellor.”

Jiang Man was shocked.

Those were heart-slaying words.

Setting aside whether there was proof—for any other woman, merely to have such a slander circulating in the markets, innocent though she was, would see her driven by her own family to take her life, for the sake of the family name.

“Those words came from an examination candidate who failed the list that year, spent his thousand gold, and drowned his sorrows in Fengle Tower. Off one drunken piece of nonsense he won a little fame among the capital officials. He now serves as retainer to a man of real power—and dares not say it anymore.” Wu You’s voice carried a smile. “He dare not, but others dare quote it. You may judge Lin’an from that.”

Jiang Man’s heart still quailed. She ventured, “Does the Scribe know of this?”

“Of course she knows!”

“From Brother Wu’s tone, the Scribe does not mind it?” Having said it, another thought followed.

If Shen Wen knew, then the rest of the Shen family surely knew as well.

To produce an Empress: glorious, yes—but every step must be tread with care.

Did this whole family care for nothing?

“The Scribe finds the verdict fairly apt. Chancellor of a realm—what a rare judgment; I too think she bears it.” Wu You said, “As for loyal or treacherous, posterity will decide. What does it matter that a few tongues wag?”

Jiang Man marveled inwardly, and at last said only, “I have been instructed.”

Then she heard Wu You chuckle low. “And does Young Lady Jiang think—who was it that took that failed scholar in as retainer?”

“I do not know.”

“The Scribe’s own brother—Lord Shen Wuyi.” At Wu You’s words, thunder fell on level ground—and then, utter silence.

The traffic around them thickened; when the curtain swayed it sometimes lifted a corner of the splendid Provisional Imperial Capital. Jiang Man sat still and silent. Under the dusk, Lin’an was near.

They entered through Yuhang Gate. Jiang Man and Ke Ye both restrained themselves from looking about, though their eyes met now and then, each reading astonishment in the other’s.

If there existed a city more prosperous and teeming than Lin’an, Jiang Man would not believe it.

Houses stood roof to roof like fish scales; the streets were nothing but shops, ablaze with light, pedestrians weaving like threads, men and women passing among them, hawkers’ cries and strings and flutes answering one another—the very picture of the world’s warm smoke and fire.

Through the inspection, Jiang Man boarded in silence and had Ke Ye take down the curtain. The carriage swung onto the great road; it had turned but one corner, scarce the length of a few sentences, when Wu You called a command—the two horses snorted, and the carriage drew up.

Jiang Man straightened her clothes and followed two paces behind Wu You, head lowered. They had scarcely passed the front courtyard when all the world’s clamor was shut outside.

“The Scribe has returned?” Wu You was speaking with someone. “This is Young Lady Jiang. You few, carry the luggage in and stow it—Ke Ye, go give a hand.”

“Yes.” Ke Ye curtsied and, as Jiang Man had instructed, did not linger, following quietly away.

“The Scribe will receive her now?” Wu You nodded slightly. “Very well, I’ll take her in. My thanks, Steward Dong.”

“You’ve traveled hard, Lord Wu. When the business is done, come have a cup of wine.” The steward bowed to Jiang Man. “Young Lady Jiang.”

“Steward Dong.” Jiang Man returned the courtesy, and followed Wu You in.

The two passed through hall after hall, one before the other, turning east into a long corridor. Jiang Man dared not look left or right, only kept her head down, her heart in her throat.

“Young Lady Jiang.” Wu You waited a step for her, voice lowered. “The Scribe has just returned from Taizhou; her mood may be poor. Be quick-witted in there, and don’t court misfortune.”

“Thank you, Brother Wu.” Jiang Man answered low in kind.

Shen Wen.

She was about to see Shen Wen again.

That Shen Wen of half praise and half blame, the Shen Wen who pulled her from the flood, the dangerous Shen Wen.

What manner of person was she, truly?

Two servants waited beneath the corridor—one bearing a lamp, one with hands tucked in his sleeves. Seeing them come, they bowed and knocked twice upon the door, taking no particular interest in Jiang Man.

Wu You stepped up and said through the door, “Wu You has brought Young Lady Jiang.”

“Enter.”