“Master Yang, the child’s father,” Meiling answers.
“But that doesn’t make sense. She would never need to say such a thing to Master Yang, let alone multiple times, because he would never have a question about who would become master when he died. First it would be Maoren. Then, if something happened to Maoren or if Maoren and I never had a son, Manzi would become the master.”
“Manzi,” she repeats.
“My father-in-law would know that down to his bones.” I watch as she considers what I’ve said. “So I asked myself, with whom would she discuss this?” I pause. Meiling waits. “It made me wonder if Manzi wasn’t Master Yang’s son.”
Meiling tucks her chin. “Do you have any proof of what you’re suggesting?”
“Manzi didn’t look like a Yang man. Not his father, my husband, or Second Uncle—”
“That is hardly proof. It could be argued Manzi resembled Miss Chen’s father or her brothers. There would be no way to prove otherwise.”
“Maybe it’s better to think about who would have a motive to make sure I didn’t have a son. If I didn’t give birth to a boy, then Manzi’s succession would have been guaranteed. The ingredients of the formula you took are evidence that someone intended to kill my baby, securing Manzi’s place.”
“The formula came from Doctor Wong.” Meiling’s eyes widen. “You think Doctor Wong and Miss Chen—”
“Miss Chen and I had our pregnancies diagnosed together by him. I realize that was a long time ago and I was mainly concerned with my own condition, but I remember how familiar their conversation was. Miss Chen said to the doctor, ‘You know me. Have you helped me become full with child?’?”
“That could mean anything. Maybe he gave her a formula—”
“Maybe, but there’s something else, and I suspect it’s related.” I hesitate, nervous to voice what I’ve come to believe. I take a breath and let the words rush out. “The night Miss Chen had her baby, Spinster Aunt came to see me. I could tell she was upset, but she wouldn’t say what was wrong.”
“So?”
“Even back then, I thought she saw or heard something when Miss Chen was in labor. Maybe Spinster Aunt was killed to keep her from telling me, from telling anyone.”
Meiling gives me a doubtful look. “Her death was an accident.”
“But what if it wasn’t?” Before she can ask, I volunteer, “No, I don’t have proof she was murdered. But something happened in the labor room that disturbed Spinster Aunt enough that she wouldn’t confide in me. I think it also caused her to enter the courtyard at night alone, which is not something she would have ordinarily done. Perhaps she went to meet someone.” I pause. Again, I worry I’m going too fast. “There’s a witness to what happened during Manzi’s birth.”
Meiling nods slowly as understanding comes to her. “My mother was in the room to catch Miss Chen’s baby.” She stands. “Wait here. I’ll get her.”
A few minutes later, Meiling and her mother return. I don’t know what Meiling told her, but the midwife regards me warily. I take her measure too. After all these years, Midwife Shi finally looks like a granny. She’s rounder, and gray threads through her hair.
It takes much prodding and cajoling, but eventually Midwife Shi confesses what she knows. When she’s done, we sit in silence for several minutes.
Finally, Meiling takes a breath. “If all this is true—”
“It is,” her mother says.
“Then why didn’t Doctor Wong try to end Yunxian’s second and third pregnancies?”
“Daughter, you’re a midwife. You know the answer. Many children don’t live to seven years. What need of a plan for the future could there be until Manzi reached that age? Better yet, until he was eight years old?”
“By that time,” I cut in, “I had three daughters. They offered no threat. And who knows? What may have started out as an unlikely seed of an idea took years to grow. Maybe Doctor Wong thought fate would intervene and bring me a son the fourth time I was full with child. In the end, you were the victim.”
Several emotions wash over Meiling’s features as she considers all this. At last, she asks, her voice tremulous, “What should we do?”
“If we act,” I answer, “there could be repercussions for my husband’s family. And for the two of you.”
“I’m afraid,” my friend admits, “but can we in good conscience do nothing?”
Midwife Shi and I remain silent as Meiling rises. She crosses the room, rummages through her shelves, returns with paper, inkstone, and an earthenware jar filled with calligraphy brushes, and sets them before me. “You need to write to your father.”
I hesitate. Maoren and I have been married for fifteen years. In writing this letter, I feel like I’ll be betraying him. “What if I’m wrong? Shouldn’t I ask Maoren about all this first?”
“But what if you’re right about everything?” Meiling asks. “Would he let you send the letter? Would he want the truth to come out?”
I’m helpless as Meiling reads my face, seeking the answers in my expression. Then she reaches into the brush holder, selects a brush with a fine tip, and holds it out to me. I take the brush, dip it in ink, and begin a letter to my father, outlining my suspicions about Meiling’s miscarriage and Spinster Aunt’s death and asking him to come to Wuxi. Then Midwife Shi, Meiling, and I spend hours compiling a list of possible witnesses and the questions that could be asked if my father decides to answer my appeal.
* * *
Three weeks later, the sounds of drums and gongs let us know that the procession bearing my father is nearing and for those in its path to clear the way. My husband, father-in-law, and Second Uncle wait with their hands folded inside the sleeves of their robes. Lady Kuo and I stand behind our husbands. I’m nervous. The last time I saw my father was twenty-two years ago, when I was eight years old and he came to my grandparents’ home with his new bride.
The procession comes into view led by a twin column of bannermen, criers, and musicians. My father rides on a horse whose black hair and mane have been brushed to shiny luminescence. Braiding and tassels swing from the saddle and bridle. My father’s erect posture and his official cap give him height and authority. Behind him follow an assortment of men—also on horseback. I take them to be clerks and secretaries, who will assist my father in the hours to come. It would be an honor for any family to have a guest of such high standing, but the purpose of my father’s visit is a cause of great concern and embarrassment: a re-inquest about Spinster Aunt’s death and an investigation into the physician of the household and how his actions may have affected the Yang family.
My father dismounts, and one of our grooms takes the reins. Maoren, my father-in-law, and Second Uncle bow in supplication as they should before a Prefectural Judge on the Board of Punishments. I’m ready to perform a full obeisance when my father steps forward and takes hold of my elbows.
“Daughter, I would recognize you anywhere. You look so like your mother.”
My hand covers my heart to hold the sentiment inside me forever. My father turns to the men in the family.
“Master Yang, I will do my best to complete the proceedings with as little fanfare as possible. Maoren, it is good to see you—”
“I’m afraid, Prefectural Judge Tan, that you’ll find your trip was unnecessary,” Master Yang interrupts. “I’ve known Doctor Wong for many years. He has served our family well. To see him accused—”
“Is no doubt a difficult situation,” my father finishes sympathetically. “No family wants to have a re-inquest either. Please be assured I will perform my duties according to the highest ideals of the Great Ming Code.”
Master Yang is not placated, but as he opens his mouth to continue to object, Second Uncle quickly places a hand on his older brother’s shoulder, conveying the message that this battle cannot be won.
Around us, servants offer cups of tea to the lesser members of the traveling party and grooms lead away the horses, giving Master Yang a moment to get his emotions further under control. “Under the circumstances,” he says at last, “I’m honored to have an official of such integrity here to preside over the proceedings. All the parties are present.”
“Then we will begin at once,” my father says.
Hearing this, Lady Kuo quickly steps forward. “Let me first show you to a room where you can refresh yourself from your journey,” she offers, to which my father nods his agreement.