Jiang Man was so stunned she had no time even for anger—she shot to her feet, lost her balance, and staggered back three or four steps.
Shen Wen rose at once. Afraid the woman would come to steady her, Jiang Man forced herself through two stumbling steps and found her footing.
Shen Wen flicked her sleeve, smiling. “So your word cannot be trusted after all.”
“I am not angry.” Jiang Man protested. “Only—only surprised, that is all. Forgive the poor showing.”
This term “Personal Attendant” was often a euphemism for concubine. Local usage varied, but a concubine of Jiankang was, in Lin’an, a concubine still.
Jiang Man’s mind went white and buzzing; for a moment she did not know what to think. Every sentence from Shen Wen was so unrestrained, her conduct far beyond ordinary people’s reach. This demand that she become a Personal Attendant was no joke.
“Our dynasty has kept no slave registries. Those in hired service are all of free birth, free to come and go. What—being asked to pour your tea is an outrage beyond bearing? Others may serve you, but you cannot serve me?” Shen Wen’s voice was unreadable as shifting weather.
Jiang Man shook her head. “I would never think such a thing.”
“Then what are your misgivings?” Shen Wen’s brow creased slightly. “A hired maidservant serves a term of ten years at most. I set yours at only six. When it ends and the Jiang family has repaid the debt, you go back to being Second Young Miss Jiang. Or—do you fear that having been a servant, your marriage prospects will be lowered a grade?”
Jiang Man shook her head again, fearful of rousing her anger, and said slowly, “In my present circumstances, I dare not think of such life matters.”
“Is that so.” Shen Wen was silent a moment. “Then don’t worry yourself. When the term ends, if no one in the Jiang family arranges your marriage, I will arrange it.”
Jiang Man went paler still, and curtsied. “Thank you for your great kindness, Scribe.”
So in the end she would be sold off?
Maidservants were not property; to trade them openly violated the Song Penal Law Compendium. But wife-selling and child-selling happened all the same—what could one edict, a few statutes, do against human greed?
And yet, to force the debt’s repayment would exhaust the Jiang family’s connections and years of accumulation, and the wine workshops would collapse prematurely all the same. The nest was already toppling; here at last was a chance to rise again. She could not watch the Jiang Family Wine Workshop be buried by her own hands.
If it came to that, Jiang Man would have no face left to go on living.
For now, she had no other choice.
Jiang Man could only sell herself to preserve the whole.
Shen Wen sat down. “So you’ve chosen the second road.”
“Just so.”
“Then why so displeased?” Shen Wen said. “Are these two roads not generous to your Jiang family? What more do you want—shall I burn the promissory notes?”
“I would not dare. This is already very generous; I have no way to repay it.” Jiang Man forced down her fear, lowered her head, and made her manner respectful. “Only—there are two things I must ask of Female Scribe Shen.”
The woman answered at once: “Name them.”
Jiang Man curtsied. “First: when our verbal agreement is put to paper, I ask that the two parts be written separately. The note for principal-only repayment within the term—write into it the clause that I myself stand as pledge. As for my hire contract, state the reason and fix the term clearly. Two contracts, standing together; tear up either one, and both are void.”
With that she stole a glance at Shen Wen.
The words bordered on insult. But one cannot be too careful against others—insulting though it was, she wanted every clause written out in black and white.
Lest everything, in the end, come to nothing.
To her surprise, Shen Wen’s face showed appreciation. Still placid, she nodded. “Granted. And the second matter?”
“Second,” Jiang Man pressed her lips together, “whatever I do in Lin’an, I ask the Scribe to keep secret from the clan—above all, my brother must not learn of it.”
Shen Wen made a show of considering, and did not agree at once. “You have your concerns—that is only human. I can promise it, but you should know: in Lin’an Prefecture, I, Shen Wen, am something of a figure, and draw eyes from every quarter. Once you attend at my side, people will inquire openly and in secret. If word leaks someday and reaches your brother’s ears—what then?”
Jiang Man said, “Then it will be no fault of Female Scribe Shen’s.”
“Good. The second matter, I grant as well.”
Jiang Man’s heart loosened; she clasped her hands. “Thank you, Scribe.”
Beneath her sleeve, from the corner of her eye, Jiang Man caught Shen Wen looking over—her gaze settling she knew not where, lingering a while. Moments later Shen Wen withdrew her eyes and took two sheets of paper from the desk.
Jiang Man blinked. So the contracts were to be written now? Mindful of her station, she quietly went to the narrow desk, brought back the inkstone, set it in a corner, selected a fine small-script brush, warmed the tip in water, dipped it full of ink, and offered it to Shen Wen.
Shen Wen glanced at her, took it, and wrote in one flowing hand—neat, orderly, hardly pausing.
What beautiful Yu-style script—not to be won short of a thousand days’ practice. Jiang Man had not imagined she practiced so restrained a hand, and forgot herself, watching too long.
Two contracts, done in a flash. Shen Wen raised the brush hand; Jiang Man understood, bowed, and received them with both hands.
Shen Wen did not release it. Jiang Man waited a moment, and when nothing happened, set the brush on the rest and reached to take the papers for a careful reading.
Two of Shen Wen’s fingers came to rest lightly on the paper; her lids lifted. “What are you doing?”
Jiang Man froze. “I thought I too must sign and mark this contract.”
Shen Wen gave a slight nod—but said, “Come over here.”
Jiang Man was about to assent—and stopped. Look where? There was a chair before the desk, but Shen Wen was sitting in it. Surely she wasn’t meant to stand behind the chair to read?
And she would have to write, after all. Standing behind the chair, how was she to write?
Shen Wen said abruptly, “What, must I ask three times?”
“I dare not.” Jiang Man curtsied and moved toward her, left arm drawn tight, taking care not to brush against her.
Shen Wen was right at her side. Though one stood high and one low, Jiang Man dared not spare her so much as a single extra glance.
The contract’s contents followed their agreement exactly, the wording rigorous and proper—even Jiang Man could find no fault. As for her hire contract, it was drawn as an ordinary maidservant’s employment deed, with a single added line: “Should the contract be breached, the Household Master may dispose of her as she sees fit.” Nothing more.
Jiang Man was silent a while.
Masters forcing themselves on maidservants was nothing new; many a maidservant bore children and never received a proper name to the end of her days. Shen Wen had not written the Personal Attendant’s duties into the hire contract. Her body-price was set at two hundred strings; over six years, that was already very generous. But copper coin was cheap these days and rice dear; reckoned out, she would earn five dou of rice a month.
Jiang Man had not thought herself worth so little.
The two hundred strings had been folded into the debt, leaving exactly fifty-six thousand eight hundred strings on the note. Jiang Man checked the figures and units carefully, then signed and set her mark.
Signature done, she stepped back and let out a long breath—but dared not make a sound.
Shen Wen had been inches away just now. If her hand had strayed half a step in writing, she might have offended her.
“Jiang Man.”
Jiang Man started—Shen Wen’s gaze had settled on the paper.
“Your name is Jiang Man,” Shen Wen said.
This time she truly was being asked.
“Yes.” Jiang Man curtsied.
“What do your elders call you?” Shen Wen’s tone was ordinary, the question almost offhand, her eyes still on the contract.
But when Jiang Man did not answer at once, she waited—clearly no idle question.
She was beneath another’s roof now and could not indulge herself. “My late father and mother called me ‘Little Fu.'”
Shen Wen looked over, as if seeing her, and yet somehow lost—a thousand miles away. She murmured, “Little Fu?”
Jiang Man hesitated, then said, “Yes. Only a lucky milk-name my mother gave offhand. Nothing to be taken seriously.”
“This name of yours—the single character ‘Man.’ Did your mother choose that one too?”
“So I’m told.” Jiang Man had not expected her to care about such details, and answered truthfully.
Shen Wen, hearing this, seemed lost in thought and silent a long while. When she looked over again she was placid as ever, with a touch of her usual recklessness. “Sign the hire contract too.”
Ordinary laborers and maidservants, to prove they were freeborn and served willingly—not kidnapped or deceived—required a broker from the go-between house to stand surety in person before a hire contract took effect. Jiang Man had not imagined a woman so exalted would pinch these coppers, and asked, “I thought a hire contract required a broker-woman as surety, which is why I had not yet signed.”
Shen Wen narrowed her eyes at her, smiling. “You think this business isn’t big enough already? You want it in every ear in the city?”
Jiang Man had not expected her to be thinking of Jiang Man’s own interests, and was struck speechless. “No—I nearly ruined the Scribe’s kind intentions.”
Shen Wen would not let it go. “Or is it that you find the procedure improper, and were saving the right to sue me in the courts someday, with the law fully on your side?”
Jiang Man grew nervous, head lowered. “I never thought any such thing.”
Shen Wen said nothing more. A long while passed before she said at last, “The ink is drying.”
Trembling, Jiang Man signed and set her mark, waited for the characters to dry, and watched Shen Wen fold away the single sheet of paper that now bound the two of them together.
From today, then, she was her Personal Attendant?
“After the new year I’ll send someone for you. In the meantime, see to the household affairs carefully.” Shen Wen paused. “How you mourn is your own affair—only, I cannot abide the look of mourning. This coarse hemp and the like, it offends the eye. Before you come to Lin’an, put mourning aside, and don’t wear that mourning chignon either. What style do you wear, ordinarily, at home?”
She was a servant now and must put her Household Master first. Hearing this disregard for all human duty, she swallowed her grief and answered, “I usually wear twin buns.”
“I don’t like it. Wear the Split Flowing Chignon instead.”
“Yes.”
“That man outside—and the wine workshop business. How do you mean to handle them?”
She meant Second Master Jiang?
Jiang Man laid out her original plan: “I thought to place a few of the wine houses in the Second Master’s and his son’s care, as a measure of appeasement. The other clansmen would share dividends equally, while the daily operations remain with the supervisors as before. As for the hired hands, those who have served many years will have their wages raised one part in ten after the new year—to show the new master’s generosity.”
Shen Wen listened carefully without interrupting. When Jiang Man finished, the woman suddenly smiled. “You call this an appeasement, a plan to settle hearts?”
Jiang Man shook her head. “Only a palliative. I have no better remedy.”
“You mean to stall until your brother comes home?”
Jiang Man assented.
“I fear you won’t last until then.” Shen Wen said, “He who rides unworthily invites robbers; he who hoards carelessly teaches thieves.”
Jiang Man did not understand.
Shen Wen glanced at her. “What do you read at home?”
“I have read the Biographies of Exemplary Women, and the Admonitions for Women.”
Shen Wen’s brow creased. “Nothing else?”
Jiang Man started. “I have read some light books, and can recite a few poems.”
Shen Wen’s brow creased deeper. “The Four Books and Five Classics?”
Jiang Man flushed, her voice mosquito-faint. “I have studied the Analects, and the Book of Songs.”
Shen Wen was silent a moment. “In the days to come, read Master Kaoting’s Commentaries on the Great Learning. Your brother holds scholarly rank; the family library should have a copy.”
“Yes.” Jiang Man assented.
“I will examine you on it when the time comes. Study it properly.” Shen Wen looked her over. “Now—your plan.”
“Yes.” Jiang Man, seeing her willing to instruct her, listened with all her attention.
Shen Wen said, “Your plan is utter nonsense.”
