Then he rises, squeezes my shoulder, and departs. I check myself in the mirror, add a bit more color to my cheeks, and pat my hair to make sure every strand is in place. A short while later, Grandmother enters. Her lips rise at the corners when she sees me.
“So you’ve heard.”
“May I see him?” I ask eagerly.
“He’s waiting for you on the terrace of the Hermitage.”
By the count of days, I’ve more than fulfilled doing the month, but this is my first time leaving the fourth courtyard since giving birth. Anticipation and joy buoy me, but I don’t go far before my legs—unused to walking beyond the confines of my room—begin to tremble.
My eyes moisten when I reach Grandfather. He holds my face in his hands and wipes my tears with his thumbs. I could do the same for him. I’ve never before seen a man be so affected by yin emotions.
“I would bring you home if I could,” he says at last. “But this is not possible. A wife only follows her husband. But I’ve made arrangements that should help you. I’ve spoken to Master Yang.”
I try to imagine what that must have been like. Master Yang has far more property and money than my grandfather, who, in turn, outranks my father-in-law in officialdom by many, many degrees. It also surprises me that he has gone above my grandmother, who should have been the one to speak—woman to woman—to my mother-in-law. This, more than anything, tells me how much my grandfather loves me, even though I’m married out.
“Let me explain,” he goes on. “In situations like this, a girl’s natal family can send strings of cash or give another mou of land to secure a favor. But our family has something even better—connections. I reminded your father-in-law that my father, my brother, my son, and I have all been presented to the emperor through our achievements in the imperial exams.”
A shiver runs through me. If Master Yang is anything like his wife, he will not have taken well to the suggestion that he is less than…
Grandfather stares out across the pond. Koi have gathered below the pavilion, and they gape at us, their mouths begging.
“You’ve never questioned me about what I did when I worked on the Board of Punishments,” Grandfather remarks after a long pause.
And I never would have asked, because the world knows this is one of the most powerful positions in government and also one of the most despised.
“People like me follow the Great Ming Code to determine sentences,” he explains. “We consider what method of torture will be used to extract the truth. We decide if the guilty will be punished with military service, be forced to wear a heavy cangue around his neck, or be placed in shackles in the public square. And for how long. Will someone be banished to a distant province or will his miseries end quickly by decapitation?” As I listen, I sense his anguish. “Your grandmother and I have taught you about the balance of life through yin and yang—dark and light, death and life. Everything I did, while necessary for society to function and flourish, came from the shadow side of existence.”
“Is this why you became a physician?”
He nods. “Following your grandmother in her practice was the opposite of all that. Medicine keeps people aligned with the cosmos.”
Another silence falls over us. I’m aware of birds twittering, the trickle of the stream that meanders through the garden, the water cascading over the grotto, and from the other side of the wall the distant noises of the outside world.
His eyes meet mine. “We don’t know how well your husband will do in the first level of exams, and he’ll have many years after that to study before he’ll be trained enough to see if he might pass the exams to become a jinshi like your father and me. Not all rewards come from merit, Yunxian. Some people benefit from hereditary titles. Some men advance through connections. I told Master Yang I will help his son—”
“Maoren will be able to do it on his own—”
“Many men have lofty aspirations, but few achieve them,” Grandfather states matter-of-factly. “Not every man is talented enough to wear the cap, robe, and badge that tell all who see him of his abilities. Not every man—even if he passes the imperial exams—can immortalize himself by leaving his mark on our civilization. Your husband is a decent man, but he is hardly a Dragon in spirit. His father is willing to make some concessions now to guarantee a future for his son.”
His words land in my stomach like a sack of stones. If Maoren was so unworthy, then why did Father agree to match me to him? And why did Grandfather and Grandmother go along with it? But it’s not my place to ask these questions.
“So-o-o-o…” Grandfather draws out the syllable. “I have never cared for midwives and their kind, as you know, but I cannot allow you to go without companionship. Meiling, as Doctor Wong’s chosen midwife, will come to see you every day until you are completely well. After that, I’ve suggested that she check on you periodically so she can report back to your grandmother and me. Furthermore, I will send a palanquin to bring you to the Mansion of Golden Light once a month. I’ve told Master Yang that you must be permitted to continue your studies with your grandmother. Last, I’ve been promised that the women in the inner chambers will be kinder to you.”
“Grandfather, thank you.”
The words seem small for the gifts he’s given me, but he waves them off as though what he’s done is minor. We visit for a while longer. We sip tea. We watch the koi—gold in color, silvery in sparkle, as they swim in and out of the shadows. Finally, he rises.
“If the things I’ve negotiated are not provided, tell Meiling. If they don’t let her in…” His features soften. I fight to control my emotions. “If they don’t let her in, find a big-footed maid you can trust and send her to me.” From his pocket he pulls out several silver coins, places them in my palm, and folds my fingers around them. “Pay whatever she asks.”
* * *
As promised, Meiling comes to see me every day, bringing formulas from my grandmother. After I’ve fully recovered, Meiling’s negotiated visits drop to once a month, but sometimes we’re able to speak to each other after she attends to another woman in the household. Today we sit on the terrace of the Hermitage, where we can converse in private. The more time I spend in the garden, the more I discover. The way light reflects on the pools of water. How the butterflies love to dance above blossoms. The sounds of birds that sing of their journeys and the relentless whine of cicadas. All this has a calming effect on my baby, lulling her to sleep in my arms, which only adds to the peaceful atmosphere.
Meiling has brought letters from my grandmother, grandfather, brother, Lady Huang, and Miss Zhao. I have missives for her to take back to the Mansion of Golden Light, but I sense some reluctance from Meiling as we pass the envelopes. Now that I’m close to being myself again, I have the fortitude to ask, “Are you still upset that I didn’t write to you? I told you Lady Kuo took my letters.”
She shifts her gaze to a far corner of the garden. “Don’t worry about what’s behind us.”
“But something still bothers you.” I wait for her to speak. When she doesn’t, I ask, “Aren’t you glad we get to spend time together?” I laugh lightly. “We now see each other more than we did when we were girls.”
“But it isn’t the same.”
“We don’t race leaves, if that’s what you mean. But we can still trade confidences—”
“We can,” she says, but I hear no happiness in her voice.
“Meiling?”
“This past year has changed us both. You’re now a fine lady, and I’m still just a midwife. This is like asking a pig and a tiger to get along.”
“I don’t see it that way at all. We’re both Metal Snakes,” I remind her.
“With differences—”
“Yes, Grandmother and your mother once discussed those, but they agreed we’re the same in the ways that matter—”
“The ways that matter,” she repeats. “Now you’re rich—”
“And you can still go where you want whenever you want.”
“You came here with everything that once belonged to your mother—her gold and jade,” she goes on. “Your dowry may be controlled by your mother-and father-in-law, but these things belong to you.” She gestures to the splendors around us. “But weather and human life are unpredictable. Some families go up. Some families go down. There may come a time when your belongings will help save these people.”
I notice the way she says “people” and not “your family” or “your husband.”
“What you’re saying isn’t fair or correct. First you say I’m different because my husband’s family is rich. Then you say I’ve always been different because I had a good dowry. After that, you imply that the Yang family could lose its standing and fortunes. I don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t,” she replies, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve been coming to see you off and on since your baby’s birth, and not once have you inquired about my mother. You’ve not asked about my husband either. Have you no interest in me? Do you suppose I live in a courtyard house or in rooms above my husband’s tea shop? How do you think my mother is surviving now that no one will hire her?”