‘You honour me with your confidence,’ he said. ‘You will be interested to learn that Lord Yun himself is an indifferent reader of characters. In fact he can barely read. So you see, gentle men of noble birth share the weakness for which you reproach yourself.
And they are men, while you are only a woman.’
Lu Ying nodded gratefully. ‘I am indeed a woman,’ she conceded. His glances at her person showed he saw it only too clearly, so that Lu Ying’s blush deepened further, though now her discomfort felt oddly like pleasure.
He held out his hand for the letter.
‘It is. . . from His Excellency Wang Ting-bo,’ she said. She watched him read, noting Guang’s sensitive brown eyes were better suited to a scholar than a mere soldier.
‘It is from the Chief Steward of Wang Ting-bo’s household,’ he said. ‘Firstly, he would have you know that His Excellency commends himself to you and that he has decided to increase the rations of grain and other food to be sent each week for your use. There is another message. The steward says that His Excellency orders him to pass on the following words:
Rivers
and mountains are more easily changed than a man’s nature
.
He adds: “His Excellency advises the Lady Lu Ying to maintain her portmanteaux and boxes in readiness.” After that comes a list of the extra supplies you will receive.’
Guang folded the stiff sheet and handed it back. Lu Ying trembled as she gripped the paper.
‘I shall return to my chamber,’ she said, faintly. ‘You were kind to help me, very kind.’
As she opened the door to the inner corridor his deep voice halted her: ‘Wait, please!’
Without turning, she paused in the doorway, so that he spoke to the back of her head and the layered mound of glossy black hair held in place by a silver pins.
‘Let me say, as one who wishes you well, that His Excellency’s words can be read in more than one way.’
Lu Ying did not know how to reply, so she glanced back at his handsome, concerned face, and bowed as she closed the door behind her. The tone of his voice echoed long after the exact meaning of his words faded.
That had been days ago. Strangely, perilously, handsome Commander Yun Guang occupied her speculations almost as much as the implied promise in Wang Ting-bo’s message. As she laboured with her hoe, Lu Ying wondered what Captain Xiao would think if he spied her from the ramparts during an inspection or patrol. Such a prospect was mortifying, yet part of her – a secret, scarcely acknowledged part – desired it.
Towards noon Lan Tien screamed, throwing down her spade. All eyes followed her shaking finger. A swollen body had floated onto the muddy shore. The women regarded it in silence. Then an eddy of the current freed the corpse, so that it drifted downstream. For a long moment no one spoke.
‘A bad omen,’ said Madam Cao. ‘We should attempt no more today or our herbs will be unlucky.’
It was also time to prepare the men’s dinner. They trailed wearily back to Apricot Corner Court and more work round the communal cooking fire.
Lu Ying soon fell behind. For every two steps of the others, she took one. This time she did not fear getting lost. Water Basin Ward was becoming familiar, its features no longer menacing. Few noticed Lu Ying in her plain clothes, her hat concealing the beauty of her face, and those who did assumed the outward denoted the inward, that she was a simple woman engaged in common labours. Any who idly wondered at her lotus feet concluded she was a singing-girl without a place, or a fine lady impoverished by widowhood or misfortune. This respite allowed Lu Ying to observe a curious sight when she reached the Water Basin.
A palanquin of moderate splendour stood in the street. She shrank back, recognising its occupant at once. His expressionless face and small, slowly blinking eyes filled her with distaste.
Dr Du Mau had attended her often in the palace, once for ill-health, but more usually because Wang Ting-bo sought to assess her receptiveness for child-bearing. Lu Ying had frequently bribed the good doctor to ensure favourable reports. If he saw her dressed like a labourer, word would fly to the Governor’s wife. Then all hope of restoration must wither.
Lu Ying shrank against a mud-wall, her face hidden by the broad peasant woman’s hat.
But Dr Du Mau had no leisure to examine the street. He was absorbed by a conversation – and that was the curious thing.
For the most senior physician in the Twin Cities was leaning down and addressing a kneeling figure. Of all the people in the world, the illustrious Du Mau had deigned to notice Dr Shih’s apprentice, Chung.
At first Lu Ying could not quite believe it. Yet it certainly was Chung. He spoke and gazed eagerly up at the palanquin, pressing his forehead into the muddy street. Whatever the young man said, it made Dr Du Mau smile faintly. A smile one might not call kind or mirthful. He motioned to his bearers and with a tinkle of bells they departed, leaving Chung in a position of profound abasement. When the bells faded he rose, brushing dirt from his knees. The apprentice looked round warily. Lu Ying kept her face hidden. He gave no sign of noticing her and hurried towards the North Medical Relief Bureau, shoulders hunched.
As she approached Apricot Corner Court, Lu Ying found Madam Cao waiting for her at the gatehouse. The older woman clicked her tongue sympathetically.
‘I was beginning to worry you were lost. You must stay with us when we go out. It is not safe to be alone on the streets.’
Lu Ying’s silence was her reply.
‘I have left food in your room,’ said Cao, timidly. ‘You have certainly earned it.’
‘Madam Cao, where shall I put this hoe?’
‘I shall take it.’
Lu Ying was trembling from the morning’s exertion. For a moment she considered telling Cao what she had seen. After all, Chung’s strange behaviour hardly boded well for Dr Shih.
Everyone knew Du Mau hated him for healing the Pacification Commissioner’s son. She vaguely remembered hating him for the same reason herself.
‘Where may I wash?’ she asked.
Cao shrugged.
‘In your room, I suppose.’
‘But. . .’
Lu Ying stopped herself. Asking her hostess to fetch the water could hardly help her position in the house. She noticed movement in the tower room above where they talked. Apricot Corner Court was as bad as Wang Ting-bo’s mansion for eavesdroppers. A silhouette was revealed momentarily. Lord Yun, no doubt spying on the girls in Ping’s Floating Oriole Hall across the canal.
She filled a large bucket and hobbled back to her room, spilling half on the way. There she stripped and slowly washed herself with what little soap she still possessed. It smelt of mint and peas. The cool water made her gasp for pleasure. Then Lu Ying noticed her closed curtain stirring. It could not be attributed to the wind. In a moment, she had covered herself with a thin shift. Her eyes glittered angrily and she hurried over, hauling up the bamboo curtain with swift jerks. She was just in time to see the retreating back of Dr Shih’s father, who had been loitering in the narrow strip of land between the canal and the back wall of Apricot Corner Court.
‘Lord Yun!’ she spluttered. ‘How can this be? To find you outside my window!’
The old man struggled for something to say. As ever, she marvelled at the nobility of his features. Even in age, he was an epitome of
yang
. It was a shame neither son had inherited such exquisite looks. In his youth he must have been formidable indeed.
‘You mistake the situation,’ he said, gravely.
Lu Ying put her hands on her hips.
‘I fear that I do not!’
‘Ah, my dear,’ he said, shaking his head, but looking round as though afraid of spies. ‘If only you knew how I contrive matters to your advantage.’
This made her hesitate.
‘In what way, sir?’
Lord Yun chuckled, his eyes flicking over the wet shift so that Lu Ying uneasily covered her jade mountains with folded arms.
‘If I were to have my way – and I always have my way – there shall be a new mistress in this hovel. Then I will expect my reward.’
Lu Ying watched in surprise as Lord Yun disappeared through the side door into the house, evidently pleased with himself. His tone and words had been surprisingly balanced.
Then again, Lu Ying seemed to recollect Madam Cao remarking that his madness could wax and wane a dozen times within a single hour. Perhaps he was not really mad at all and would somehow help her. She let the curtain fall in case any of the singing girls from Ping’s establishment were watching and stood for a while in silence.
All that afternoon she slumbered on her divan, speculating even in her dreams about the old man’s meaning, Guang’s unexpected kindness, and Wang Ting-bo’s letter.
*
Madam Cao was quite as weary as her unwanted guest.
Clearing ground by the river had unearthed a doubt. Her father would have blushed to see his only child scrabbling among roots, spade in hand. But desperate times breed change.
Though Shih had initially opposed her intention to venture beyond the ramparts, calling it unfit work for his wife, as well as dangerous, she had held firm. Concern for the wounded finally won him over, as she knew it would. Besides, if His Honour the Sub-prefect inspected Apricot Corner Court again, Shih could cite the women’s labours for the common good as proof of their loyalty. And the Mongols were hardly likely to fall upon the Water Gate of Morning Radiance without being detected.
Cao sighed, examining blistered hands. When her fingers grew hard with calluses, would Shih find her attractive? As it was, he scarcely noticed her. Yet everything she did was for his sake.
She added an extra pinch of precious, soothing leaves to her pot and stirred. Of course he would be grateful if the medicine jars were replenished. A doctor’s prosperity and reputation depended on cures. Yet all she really desired were warm glances.
When the tea had done its work, Cao wandered across the courtyard to visit Widow Mu. She found her chiding Lan Tien.
‘Did I not tell you to gather herbs from the ground beside the canal? Is that all you could find?’
Lan Tien pouted sulkily.
‘People were there before me!’
‘My daughter is disobedient,’ said Widow Mu, appealing to her visitor.
Cao took the offered seat.
‘I’m sure Lan Tien did her best,’ she said, tentatively.
‘Everyone is after herbs to add to their rice. One cannot survive on grain alone, however generous the rations from the Prefecture may be.’
Widow Mu subsided and turned to her daughter: ‘Madam Cao is soft-hearted. Go and play with the other children.’
Unexpectedly, Lan Tien stood firm. She hugged her arms, torn between defiance and habits of deference to her mother’s whims.
‘I am not a child anymore!’
‘Oh, but you are!’
For a moment the argument hung in the balance. Then Lan Tien bowed and left for the apricot tree where her brother was playing ball.
‘I despair of that girl,’ said Mu, heavily. ‘Her breasts grow a little and she calls herself a woman. Yet I remember when she could not walk.’
Cao listened silently. She had little to say about raising children. Instead she offered a saucer of leaves for Mu to brew.
‘I could not help smiling today,’ said the Widow. ‘Seeing your guest fanning herself with a hoe instead of silk and gauze.’
‘It brought me no pleasure.’
Cao wondered for the hundredth time whether her motives had been pure when she insisted Lu Ying join the other women.
Yet no one else in Apricot Corner Court was exempt from labour except Lord Yun, and that was solely due to his noble title. One would expect a healthy girl like Lu Ying to earn her share. Even the mistress of the house did as much.
‘Still, I smiled,’ said Widow Mu.
The two women bent over their steaming cups.
‘I noticed Lord Yun bowing to your Honoured Guest the other day,’ remarked Mu.
Cao licked a shred of leaf from her lip.
‘Her presence seems to please him,’ added Widow Mu, dryly.
’Lord Yun has a sharp eye. He likes to notice what there is to see.’
‘My husband’s father is a most observant gentleman. It is a shame his health is impaired. Often he misunderstands the things he sees.’
Widow Mu smiled.
‘For one so venerable, he seems to have plenty of faith in his own
yang
.’
‘A misplaced faith, I fear, at his age.’
‘Well, he’s a man like any other.’
Cao resisted the urge to share a confidence. Bad enough that her mad father-in-law should be so set against her, without circulating details amongst the neighbours.
‘Poor man!’ she sighed. ‘His losses have been great.’
For a while they discussed herbs on the riverbank then Cao returned home, troubled by the conversation.
In the shop she found no respite. Chung stood with one hand resting on the counter, staring into space. His eyes, as he glanced up, were bright.
‘I hoped to find you here,’ he said. ‘Master wanted to send me back from the Relief Bureau. He said I deserve a rest. But Dr Du Tun-i wanted me to clean his bureau and I would have done, only I was tired, so I stole away when Dr Du Tun-i was not looking.’
Cao wondered at the defiance in his voice. She stepped behind the counter so it lay between them.
‘Is Dr Shih also tired?’ she asked. ‘He has been at the Relief Bureau for nearly a whole day now.’
Chung yawned and Cao sensed he was on the verge of something.
‘I received a message today,’ he said, dully. ‘From the Prefecture. It seems I am to be spared the militia because of my trade. They say I must report to the Bureau of Righteous Fire.
I have been ordered to make poison bombs for flinging at the enemy.’
‘Then your wish has been granted!’ she exclaimed.
His plump face quivered.
‘Do you really not know this is worse? Dr Liang’s apprentice was ordered there and died of arsenic poisoning after his face turned green!’
‘Nevertheless, it is not the militia,’ she said. ‘Perhaps Dr Liang’s apprentice was careless.’
‘But I heard from Dr Chu’s apprentice that he toils from dawn until long after dusk – and he receives a single bowl of millet as pay! My friend’s skin is quite withered from the lime and burning powder. I tell you, it is not for me. And I have been ordered to live in a dormitory with a hundred others. Dr Chu’s apprentice says it is a vile place.’