Master Wu's Bride Read online

  “Fine? In time. Scholars? Perhaps when the Lady in the Moon winks at the bay. But we shall work them, we shall.”

  “Industry, Master P’ing Chin. I shall be about mine and wish you a good evening.”

  Chi Lin bowed to the teacher, and then stared at her new found nephews. She joined Willow on the path.

  2

  A covered archway stretched over the path which ran between the school and the Jade Heart Hall. It was a lovely stretch with wooden floorboards that creaked beneath Chi Lin’s sandals. The roof was varnished crimson and green with tiger faces carved at the cap ends, the sign that the House of Wu was distinguished enough to receive Imperial permission to sport fine curved tiles and ornamentation. Chi Lin’s father had such permission at one time, but lost it, his house needing many modifications to comply with a more common appearance.

  Halfway along this causeway, Willow halted, turning almost sister-like to Chi Lin.

  “The mistress knows,” she whispered.

  “I am sure she knows many things, Willow. I do not doubt it.”

  “I mean she knows you had a visit last night from . . . the Second Son.”

  Chi Lin’s heart jumped, her stomach rolling. Did this mean she was going to be chastised for rudeness? Liang-tze was the Old Lady of the House’s real son, after all.

  “Am I to be punished?”

  “No. I mention this so you know to say nothing about it, even if my mistress hints. The Second Son is not favored, his actions troublesome. He has always hovered about his brother’s wives, even though he has his own women.”

  “I have heard as much on the wind,” Chi Lin replied. “Thank you for your warning. I will not mention the incident.”

  “Just know that she knows and might try to make amends. That is my mistress’s way.” She paused, perhaps trying to decide if further talk was wise. She swallowed hard, and then said: “My mistress is practical and stern, but fair in all things. She is a good woman although you might need to dig to the foundation to find her softer nature.”

  She turned and continued toward the hall. Chi Lin paused, watching Willow walk, now many steps ahead of her. Then she closed the gap, happy to have tapped the trust of this servant.

  The Old Lady of the House was in her usual place within the Jade Heart Hall, mending shoes. At the sight of the footwear Chi Lin’s fingers ached. After a full day of feeding the worms, was she now expected to pick up the needle? Her fingers would rebel. She was sure of it. However, the sewing circle was not present.

  The old woman looked up as they entered.

  “Purple Sage,” she said. “Did you learn much at the Silk ji-tzao?”

  Chi Lin curtsied.

  “Yes, mother-in-law. I spent much time feeding the worms. I saw the process. My sister has spun silk in our homestead, but not on such a scale. Never had I participated.”

  “But now you know. And the First Wife will be pleased in time, I am sure, when you have earned your place. Tomorrow you shall tend in the kitchen and the day after you will mend tables and chairs. Such skills are impotent to running a house of size and status.”

  “Yes, mother-in-law.”

  “Good. I see you wear purple today, which stands out from our mourning white. It is proper that the ghost bride eschew white for an interval. It is proper.” She set her work aside, and stood. “Have you decided on how to use your husband’s gift?”

  “I was thinking of many improvements,” Chi Lin said. “But I think the roof tiles need repairing and should be the priority.”

  “Yes. Practical, I see. Good. I am glad you managed to keep your gift safe.”

  “Why would I not?”

  The Old Lady of the House frowned. Chi Lin knew, thanks to Willow, that her mother-in-law had referred to Wu Liang-tze’s visitation. But by answering boldly she had avoided a detailed explanation.

  “Young women are foolish,” the old woman said. “Who knows how they can misplace silver.” She looked to Willow. “Willow.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “Fetch Gao Lin, and then ask Mo Li to bring a basket of sweet buns here. She will know the meaning.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Chi Lin was mystified.

  “Repairing a roof is not a task for a wife in this house, even though she is the Fourth Wife and a Ghost Bride. You will need a strong arm to accomplish it. Lao Lao has nothing more than a strong tongue. His arms would splinter. So I am sending a man to repair the roof. He is in our service, so you need only pay for the tiles and mortar.”

  “Thank you, mother-in-law,” Chi Lin said, curtsying.

  “Be thankful that I am as practical as you appear to be.”

  Suddenly, a man stood on the threshold, Willow behind him, although she soon disappeared to accomplish her second task.

  “Ah, Gao Lin,” the old woman said.

  The man stepped into the light and Chi Lin’s breath hitched. It was the young worker, whom she had seen earlier repairing the trellis. She averted her eyes so as not to raise questions, because he was handsome, although shabbily attired. He went to his knees before the Old Lady of the House.

  “I am here, my lady. You have summoned me, my lady. What is needed, my lady?”

  “Up with you,” the old woman snapped. “I am giving you to Purple Sage to help with repairs at the Hall of Silver Silence. She will tell you what is needed.”

  Gao Lin looked to Chi Lin, his gentle countenance easing at her sight. He grinned, but then quickly frowned, bowing.

  “Yes, my lady. I shall do repairs, my lady.”

  Chi Lin was not sure what to say, so she said nothing.

  “Wait outside,” the old woman snapped, and Gao Lin left. “Also, my husband has made an observation that you are too thin and would fade after long, the work being steady and your position, low as it is, still higher than the servants, tenants and journeymen. He suspects you are in want of a good meal, and I suspect it is true.”

  Chi Lin’s stomach rumbled for that good meal. She was not a complainer, but her sister was a good cook with what they had, and meals were regular and tasty. Willow returned now with a short, rotund woman in tow, who toted a basket of sweet buns. Chi Lin could not help think that this woman had eaten more than her share of those sweet buns.

  “Ah, Mo Li,” the old woman said. “Go with your mistress, Purple Sage, for you are to assist in the Hall of Silver Silence with the cooking.”

  “But Snapdragon will bite my head off, my lady,” Mo Li replied.

  “None of your obstinence, Mo Li,” the old woman said. “You shall help her or do it all yourself. It is not for either you or Lao Lao's old woman to determine these things. That is my place. And unless you wish to be returned to the salt ji-tzao on your father’s holding, you will manage Snapdragon and supply your mistress with nourishing meals. Do you understand me?”

  “I do, mistress. I do.”

  Mo Li bowed first to the old lady, and then to Chi Lin. She turned quickly and passed Willow on the threshold, not needing to be told to wait outside. Chi Lin curtsied low to her mother-lin-law.

  “I thank you, mother-in-law. You have a good heart.”

  “My heart is as others. It seeks proper management in this house. A wife without a proper roof or a full belly will not serve well here. What would they say in the Ya-men?”

  Chi Lin caught this woman’s eye. It was the first time their eyes locked. She could read them. She could see the sadness of losing her son and being saddled with a ghost bride, but she also saw the remorse of having a wayward second son who was itching to do mischief. Full bellies and repaired roofs were fine as far as they went, but compensation for the stress of having Liang-tze as a neighbor seemed more the reason here. Still, Chi Lin was thankful.

  “We should mend shoes now,” the old woman said. “But it is best you take your new acquisitions to the hall and sort them into proper quarters to keep them away from the bugs. I suspect Lao Lao will not be happy with any arrangement made. But we do not live for his happ
iness. Quite the opposite. Have him work it out, and then inspect the results. You are the mistress of the Hall of Silver Silence. The more you invest, the more it will return to presentability. So go. Lead them to your courtyard and make do with your limited resources.”

  Willow led Chi Lin out.

  “Willow,” the old lady called.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “Purple Sage should know the way by now. I shall join Jasmine for dinner. Go ahead and tell her.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Chi Lin was sad not to have Willow’s company. The servant might have explained to her more clearly the reasons for these new acquisitions beyond the obvious. She might have intoned whether the mistress had taken a shine to her or not. Still, Chi Lin did as she had learned to do during her short residency here. She walked on the proper path, and the proper path this evening was through the dusky courtyards to her own spot, now followed by a handsome, brawny handyman and a fat cook. She was not sure which she liked best, but they were happy acquisitions without a doubt, both providing potential nourishment to a starving ghost bride.

  Chapter Nine

  Mending Things

  1

  As predicted, Lao Lao caused a fuss. There was no room in his hut for another woman and absolutely no place for another man. Mo Li was unhappy with this and declared she would go back to her old quarters, but Chi Lin interceded. Mo Li would stay with Lao Lao and wife, and as comfortably as they could make her. Snapdragon was insulted that after all these years her abilities as a cook were called into question by the Old Lady of the House. I was steaming rice before she was born and boiling noodles in the days of her grandmother. But Chi Lin insisted that it was a kindness to provide Snapdragon with help. After all, her sight was failing, if not failed, and help would ease her aching bones by sharing the tasks. As for Gao Lin, Lao Lao showed him a shambled storage hut fit for little more than crickets and mice. Chi Lin objected, but Gao Lin said he could very well stay there as in any other place. So he disappeared into the shadows, seeking solace in the debris.

  Chi Lin heard Snapdragon’s complaints all night, her sharp voice drifting through the window. But at dawn, the table was laid with braised pork, soft white rice with sweet plums and properly prepared tea. She wondered where Mo Li had found the ingredients. Were they staples in the shack never to be served unless on feast days? Perhaps Mo Li raided the Jade Heart kitchen for the meal. Nonetheless, Chi Lin ate heartily, not caring for the source of the victuals. It was the best meal she had consumed since her arrival. Of course, Snapdragon boasted that she had prepared it with some help from the useless Mo Li, but Chi Lin knew better.

  Chi Lin was cross with Lao Lao for not being more accommodating, especially with Gao Lin.

  “A partition is to be set in that corner,” she said to Lao Lao sternly pointing to the far end of the min hall. “Gao Lin shall sleep there until the storage hut is made inhabitable.”

  Lao Lao was all yes, mistress and right away, mistress, but she could tell he was annoyed. He would remain annoyed and just short of insubordinate for a week. But as the meals were appreciated and Gao Lin began his repair work, Lao Lao settled into a seemingly cooperative mood. Snapdragon was . . . well, was Snapdragon, complaining always, while Mo Li was no better, although she became the more valuable. Chi Lin could dress herself and prepare her own hair. On most days she had completed these tasks before Lao Lao’s old woman even stirred. But she understood Snapdragon’s position. The woman had served and labored in the House of Wu since she was a child. Blindness and shaky hands were a prelude to a trip to the Yellow Springs. Yes, Chi Lin understood.

  Chi Lin settled into her routine homage at Wu Hung-lin’s shrine. She felt his presence there and became comfortable chatting with him, thanking him for the tender mercies shown to her by her mother-in-law and for keeping the Second Son away from her courtyard. She sometimes thought she heard Wu Hung-lin speak to her on the morning breeze, although she had never heard his voice while he lived. She also looked forward to her morning encounters with the daughters. On the third day, the third daughter appeared with her half-sisters. This was the youngest and shyest — Sapphire by name, the child of the Third Wife. Of course, they were all accounted as the children of the First Wife, who would become a powerful force in their lives, but for now they were still living in their mothers’ quarters and under the eye of their amahs. Chi Lin had glimpsed both amahs at a distance, but had no need or desire to have congress with them. The children had to make a distinction between their Auntie and their servants.

  These morning chats made Chi Lin ache for children of her own — even daughters. While the sons were more formal in their life at Blue Heaven Hall and in the classroom, the girls were still too young to be taught sewing and mending. They still played with their dollies and had silly, endearing conversations seeking truth in their surroundings. The ghost bride was a curiosity at first, but soon became an opportunity — their only opportunity to talk with an adult lady, one who did not command them to do this or to act that way. She did not scold them, but answered their questions about her robes and her hair jewel, her funny feet (their mothers needed servants to guide them). In fact, they wanted to see her feet, which she gladly displayed, wiggling her toes. Chi Lin hoped that the First Wife, whose feet were also fully formed, would spare these girls the pain of foot binding. This depended on whether prospective households were drawn to the lotus footed creatures or wanted working wives in their household. Since the First Wife was not foot bound and the Old Lady of the House had big feet too, perhaps these children would be spared. Chi Lin thought it a good sign that they were not bound yet, since the process began at a young age. But who could tell, and she would not interfere.

  Then there was the work. On some days Willow would fetch her — on days where new tasks were introduced or when the Old Lady of the House had a change in plan. But more often Chi Lin knew where she was wanted and arrived ahead of her mother-in-law. In the kitchens, she learned to parse ingredients for the cooks, dicing the vegetables and the meat, rolling the bun dough and plating spices for use in the cooking process. She inspected plates and dishes for cracks and learned to repair tea bowls using lacquer dust and powdered silver. Ceramic spoons were patched with gum plaster and paint hid the cracks. Some items were beyond repair, but Chi Lin learned which ones could be safely chucked into the flower pots for drainage. Table clothes and napkins were embroidered as well and soon Chi Lin mastered the t’ieh pattern for edging doilies and bun covers.

  In addition to the everlasting shoe repairs and designs, Chi Lin often went to the furniture shack, where the journeymen created fine tables and chairs. Her job was to nurture the older pieces with fresh coats of lacquer and shiny brass works. She learned to carefully fit chairs in need of new webbing with woven rattan and to strengthen them with bamboo slats. Chi Lin found this work more backbreaking than any other, the shack musty and confining. She was glad when her days there were concluded.

  She liked feeding the worms, and soon graduated into the silk ji-tzao barn to learn how to undertake the first reeling process. She never accustomed herself to the odor, covering her face with a makeshift mask from Peony’s wardrobe chest. She was also told that since Wu Hung-lin’s death, the inspection of the tenants’ ji-tzao, both silk and salt, were haphazard. The Master of the House, Wu T’ai-po, was too old to do it regularly and his journeymen were spread thinly over the landscape. Wu Liang-tze had been sent out on occasion, but he managed to scare the tenants with his wildness, especially with their daughters. So the Second Son was curtailed from these duties. Of course, Lin-kua and Chou-fa were too young to undertake it, so it fell to the First Wife to take up the slack. Jasmine told Chi Lin that she would be doing inspection tours once the house ceased wearing white. The neighborhood expected the family to be wearing the white, and since the ghost bride wore purple, she could not travel outside the walls. But when the mourning period for women ended, she could expect to tour. Chi Lin looked forward to it.r />
  2

  Life for women in the house was toil, but Chi Lin discovered that when her daily duties were finished, she could reclaim some time for herself, depending on the task and, to some degree, on the whim of her mother-in-law. Chi Lin was permitted to take her meals twice weekly with the household women, although she sat at a separate table. But the meal was the same and, occasionally, someone would speak to her or ask her a question. There was not much conversation, especially since the Master of House usually entertained his journeymen and Ya-men guests in the next room. They were boisterous; especially Po T’ai-kuan, who was a frequent guest, knowing where the best food was served and the finest wine flowed freely. The more it flowed, the louder he got, and there was little room for conversation for the women over the noise.

  Still, Chi Lin listened and observed. She found the other wives wanting in manners; Jasmine too proud to do more than sneer, Lotus too precious to wait on herself and Orchid too distressed to do more than pout. The Old Lady of the House, on the other hand, domineering as she was, did keep the conversation circulating by asking her daughters-in-law questions on their industry, health and the state of their pavilions. Of course, she was filled with motherly advice on rearing children, which leaned more on issues on how to control the amahs, nannies and teachers. On this score little could be said to Purple Sage. Nor could she contribute anything to it. But she learned much about how these children were growing — their petty quirks and their need for discipline. The Old Lady stressed the competency of her grand daughters so that a good match could be made with the lowest dowry possible. Her grandsons must grow up to take over the business of running the house as soon as they could do it, if not sooner. All the while, servants competed with dishes and plates, bowing and curtsying to their betters, while the boisterous laughter rolled over their heads from the adjoining gentlemen’s enclave. When these meals were concluded, the wives departed — Jasmine in her litter, Lotus between her two maid servants and Orchid on the arm of a bent older woman. Chi Lin would then arise, bow to her mother-in-law and depart, thankful for the meal and drifting to her bed in the Hall of Silver Silence.