Chapter 47: Seeing the Cage Part 1

This day Dingxiang knelt beneath the corridor crying her father’s injustice. Few people came and went, but not one paid her the slightest heed.

The Hidden Osmanthus Garden seemed to have no such thing as mourning leave. Though Dingxiang had lost her father, she dared not wear hemp and mourning cloth—only a small square of white cloth on her right arm, inconspicuous at a casual glance. It was said this was already exceptional leniency. From their tone, Jiang Man knew Huailou and Sijiu both very much disapproved of Dingxiang’s behavior.

Nearly a hundred days had passed since her father’s death. Though Jiang Man had come out of mourning, and by Shen Wen’s command no longer observed the usual taboos, in her heart she still wore heavy mourning, as if that final day would never arrive. The long funeral had exhausted Jiang Man’s shock and resistance, but the grief and tears seemed to have been packed away like mourning garments, occupying a place inside her all the same, hidden but unspent, a thorn that could not be pulled out.

Like grieves for like; one heart knows another. Looking at He Dingxiang, Jiang Man could not help feeling sorrow.

“It’s nearly time,” Huailou came in from outside, closing the door, and said in a low voice. “The Female Scribe will likely be going out. Lady Jiang, why not go persuade Dingxiang to go home?”

“Shall I go? You’re unfamiliar with everything here, Miss…” Sijiu put in.

“One must grow familiar sometime.” Huailou looked at Jiang Man. “Are you willing to go?”

“Yes.” Jiang Man put down her book, glanced once behind the beaded curtain, and said, “Then I’ll go now. You look after the Female Scribe.”

The two nodded.

Jiang Man closed the door, pressed both hands against the gold-filigree door handles, steadied herself, and only then walked forward.

Even before this heart attack of hers, Huailou had rarely asked her to do anything. On the occasional occasions help was needed, it was mostly intimate matters—if Sijiu was present, Sijiu was sent; if not, Huailou would have one of the maids attending from the Main Residence help instead. Truthfully, this was the first time she had been named for a proper task.

She had lost her father at year’s end; compared with ordinary people, she should understand Dingxiang’s plight better. But that sentence of Huailou’s—”have her go home”—did it mean dismissing her just for today, or…

If Dingxiang truly came to kneel here day after day, once or twice Shen Wen might tolerate her, but three times, five times—sooner or later, this family would suffer. This was originally a matter for whoever supervised her to restrain; even if the supervisor was too busy, anyone who saw it should report to the Steward and have Steward Dong handle it. Perhaps because it bordered the Pavilion of Investigating Things, every person who should have managed it stood aside instead, kicking the leather ball to their doorstep.

Jiang Man sighed softly, walked up to Dingxiang: “Get up and speak, Dingxiang.”

Seeing someone approach, He Dingxiang realized it was Jiang Man, and her eyes dimmed a degree. Still she obeyed, murmuring assent, rising and curtsying: “Lady Jiang.”

Jiang Man led her to a quiet spot to the side, walking slowly, but not looking back. She had knelt so long; moving again would surely be hard to bear. But their stations differed, and this was a sensitive moment—she could not rashly show kindness.

When they reached the wall, Jiang Man stopped, looked at her a while, then said: “You’ve knelt here a whole day. What have you been thinking?”

“Lady Jiang, my father died an injustice…”

“Insolence.” Jiang Man cut her off. “Mr. He died of illness. A Coroner was summoned early to examine the body, and the Female Scribe attended in person. Where is the injustice in this?”

She drew a breath: “That’s not what this humble one means.”

Jiang Man looked at her.

Dingxiang said: “Perhaps you don’t know, Miss. The day my father passed, before noon—before he was even dead—Steward Dong was already arranging to disburse money and grain as consolation. Then a little later, word came that the accounts didn’t match. That was branding my father a man who cools the moment he leaves the teacup, slandering him! If such lies can be told, where is there no injustice?”

“The accounts have now been investigated and cleared. Mr. He’s name has been vindicated.”

Dingxiang choked: “But that Steward Dong is still serving in our garden.”

Jiang Man lowered her eyes a little: “Dingxiang, think carefully. Kneeling here—what is it you actually want? I know the garden has already paid no small funeral grant, and the Female Scribe added a sum besides. And all the burial arrangements were paid from the garden’s purse…”

“It’s not the money.” Dingxiang shook her head. “This humble one doesn’t want money. I only hope the wronged are cleared and the guilty punished. The one who did wrong wipes away the whole affair with a wave of his hand, as if nothing happened—and my father? He’s already gone, and all he gets is a light little phrase of ‘he didn’t do it.’ Lady Jiang—in your view, is that what you call ‘vindicated’?”

Jiang Man evaded the question.

“That you would come say even one word to me, I’m already deeply grateful.” Dingxiang looked up at her. “Kneeling here today—the sisters who know me all flee faster than greet me. I went to beg Miss Huailou to carry a message, and she wouldn’t. I know it puts you in a hard place; I never hoped for anything, and I’d never dare disturb the Female Scribe outright. But this mouthful of unjust air—however this humble one tries to breathe it out, it won’t come clean.

“Whether Steward Dong is punished or not—this humble one has no standing to say; I can only accept the Female Scribe’s judgment. I dare not go report to the magistrates either—our whole family must still serve under the Female Scribe and earn our bread. My father rose early and worked late all these years, and told us only to be dutiful people: we’ve received the Female Scribe’s grace, and mustn’t make nothing but trouble for her. This humble one has only one thing to beg of you.”

Dingxiang finished and looked at Jiang Man. Hearing no reply, she seemed a little deflated, but gritted her teeth and continued: “Steward Dong was already smearing my father’s name by noon—that is more real to me than all that gleaming silver. I asked several people, and all said it happened. Lady Jiang, if you pity our family, and for my father’s sake, please carry one word to the Female Scribe. Will you?”

All of this, Huailou had long since investigated to the bottom—but that inside knowledge was known only to the study’s people. To outsiders, though Dong Linyuan’s punishment had been light, the crime of deliberate framing had fallen on one small figure in the accounting office. Looking at He Dingxiang, Jiang Man felt her efforts were futile—yet given her station, she could neither tell her the truth nor sway Shen Wen’s decision.

Jiang Man’s brow furrowed slightly; she studied her a long while, then said: “If this were dragged out for a confrontation, those people who admitted it to your face—would they dare say the same words before the Female Scribe and Steward Dong? Don’t answer me yet—ask your own heart: were it you, would you dare?”

Dingxiang was stopped by the question; her mouth opened, but no sound came.

“Sister, hear me.” Jiang Man said. “In such matters, sheer spirit can sustain the mind, but not the body. The spirit may endure, but the body must eat. A day requires a day’s rice. To win a battle, you must plan for the long term.

“Why would those people speak for you? When it truly comes to the open court, would they dare speak for you? Why wouldn’t they dare? And how could you give them the footing to dare? Go think on each of these carefully. If you think it through and still believe kneeling here is your only way out—then kneel, and I will not say one word to stop you.”

Dingxiang raised her head: “You are willing to believe what I say, Miss?”

“Whether I believe you doesn’t matter. I am lowly of word and weight, and can help you with nothing.” Jiang Man looked at her and asked, veiled: “This noon matter you spoke of—have you told it to others?”

She shook her head: “Only my two elder sisters know. Of us all, not even my mother dared be told.”

Jiang Man said: “Think carefully on this. It matters greatly.”

“Mm…” Dingxiang thought a moment. “The ones willing to tell me, or whom I asked and who nodded and admitted it—those people know, of course.” Her tone shifted. “But they surely can’t stomach Steward Dong’s conduct either; surely they wouldn’t go wagging tongues.”

Jiang Man’s heart sank. She gave neither agreement nor refusal, said nothing more to her, only offered a few gentle words of persuasion. This He Dingxiang was truly a likable girl—stubborn of temper, yes, but able to take advice. She agreed at once to return to her duties and stop coming to kneel beneath the corridor and vex Shen Wen.

On her own initiative, she further decided to have her rest a day and come back tomorrow. Having asked Huailou’s leave, Huailou at once dispatched a maid to carry the message, and Jiang Man walked Dingxiang to the back gate, watching her leave the Hidden Osmanthus Garden with her own eyes before turning back.

The moment she entered, Jiang Man heard Huailou calling her. Sijiu, waiting in the outer room, pointed toward the inner chamber and raised her brows. Jiang Man understood with a slight nod—Shen Wen was awake.

When no one reported to her in the afternoon, Shen Wen usually napped in the study. Most of the time she simply rested against her chair with eyes closed; occasionally she folded her arms and curled up asleep on the desk, like an examination candidate who had burned the midnight oil and finally could hold out no longer. She truly never used that Luohan Daybed behind the screen. Jiang Man found it strange, but Sijiu and Huailou were never seen trying to persuade her either, and Jiang Man, unwilling to tempt fate, would certainly not raise it.

Lifting the beaded curtain, she found Huailou combing Shen Wen’s hair. Jiang Man curtsied: “Female Scribe. Xiaojiu has returned.”

“How did it go?” Shen Wen asked.