Master Yang rises and shouts in indignation. “We deserve that at the very least!” Around him, a chorus of male voices led by Second Uncle support this demand.
Doctor Wong lifts his hands, casually, disinterested. What he says proves that Grandmother was right about him all along. “I confess to wanting to be a famous doctor remembered long after my death. I wanted to be like the man who created the methods for the washing away of wrongs.” He permits himself a small smile. “The very methods you’ve employed today—”
My father brusquely cuts him off. “Your actions were not those of a man desiring fame. Rather, you sought the benefits and power found in siring what you hoped would be the heir of this family’s holdings.”
Doctor Wong lets out a breath in resignation. “What difference does any of it make now? Manzi is dead.”
This produces such consternation from the Yang men—and even some of the women—that for a moment I’m worried they’ll take matters into their own hands. My father pounds his fist on the table, silencing the assembly.
“A woman died. Another woman lost her child and nearly died. And we don’t yet know what else you did.” My father looks down at his papers. “There are other roads of inquiry I can still take,” he says. “I would be happy to continue the investigation and employ the usual interrogation techniques—beatings and the like—if that would suit you. But understand that for each new lie uncovered, especially after the time and effort men will have spent extracting the truth, your physical punishment will increase.” He pauses, and then adds, “I am giving you the opportunity to take the coward’s way—confess, avoid torture, and begin your sentence.”
Doctor Wong sighs and his shoulders slump as his boldness melts away. I’m reminded of the story Spinster Aunt told long ago about the so-called brave man, who ended up hiding under the bed like a frightened kitten to escape his wife. At last, Doctor Wong speaks. “I respectfully ask for the coward’s way. Torture will not be necessary. I will accept your verdict based on what you’ve heard and the sentence you believe I deserve. Now, without the addition of pain or blood.”
“The coward’s way then.” My father sweeps his eyes across the audience to convey his opinion of the doctor’s complete lack of honor or courage. “Let me begin by saying that I was raised in a household devoted equally to scholarly endeavors and to medicine. From my mother, in particular, I learned that in medicine we must look at the entire cosmos—both within and without the body. Are they in harmony?” He gestures to me. “What pride I have in this moment to see that my daughter has learned to see these patterns not only in those who ail but in the world around her, which is how she was able to bring this matter to me. Just as my daughter or my parents might have felt the pulses, asked questions, and so on, I now follow a similar course to find what in the evidence is out of harmony with the cosmos and what traces have been left behind that reveal past movements.”
My father pauses so his secretaries can take down all his words. Once their brushes stop moving, he picks up again. “Fame is a dream some men chase. Sometimes they catch it and manage to hold on to it as if hanging on to the tail of a kite in a tempest. Sometimes they are blinded by desire for recognition or influence, as if they have drunk a flask of fairy wine. We are talking about the basic elements of yin and yang, are we not? The constant push and pull between good and evil, love and hate, honor and disgrace, all of which follow each other in an unending cycle. In this case, Doctor Wong, you were not alone in your misdeeds. I now ask Midwife Shi and Miss Chen to stand next to you.”
Once the two women are in place, my father says, “All punishments are dictated by the Great Ming Code: beheading, banishment, penal servitude, and flogging.”
Hearing these words, Midwife Shi seems resigned. Miss Chen stays silent beneath her veil. Doctor Wong goes pale, perhaps reconsidering his choice of the coward’s way.
“I will begin with Midwife Shi,” my father goes on. “The punishment for lying at an inquest is severe—one hundred blows with a heavy rod.”
“No!” Meiling cries out. This is far worse than what she received at the palace.
My father ignores the outburst. “While the Great Ming Code says I can’t suspend a sentence, it can be reduced, which I believe is warranted in this case. After all, Midwife Shi—as a woman and as one of the Six Grannies—could not disobey Doctor Wong’s orders. At the same time, we must admire her Confucian fealty. She sacrificed her reputation to secure her daughter’s future. That daughter—another member of the Six Grannies—has also exhibited the precepts of Confucius. In helping to expose Doctor Wong, Young Midwife has helped clear her mother’s name. Midwife Shi will receive one hundred blows from the lightest bamboo rod available in the district.”
Hearing the sentence, Meiling’s mother remains as still as stone. Miss Chen’s veil—light and diaphanous—trembles.
“As for Miss Chen,” my father says, “she is property. I leave her punishment to Master Yang. But if it were me, I’d have the concubine banished from the household immediately.”
He couldn’t know that Miss Chen has already been thrown into the street.
He dismisses the two women and turns to Doctor Wong. “The dead will not rest, and the living will not be at ease without retribution. Punishment for those who kill an unborn child whose mouth, eyes, ears, hands, and feet have not fully formed is nearly nonexistent. In this case, however, Young Midwife’s fetus—a girl—had developed these physical characteristics.” He pauses as Doctor Wong begins to sob. Then, “I want to give you a punishment that will discourage others from attempting something similar while in pursuit of power and financial gain. You will receive one hundred blows from a heavy rod and wear a cangue around your neck for a year so the populace may see your humiliation. If you’re still alive after twelve months, I sentence you to be decapitated in Wuxi’s public square.”
As two guards approach, Doctor Wong struggles to rein in his emotions. By the time he stands to be led away, he’s once again himself—arrogant, and fully in control.
* * *
Tonight the men of the Yang family are to host a banquet in honor of my father. I will not be permitted to attend. With what remains of the day, I go in search of my husband and find him alone in his library. He doesn’t look pleased to see me.
“The matchmaker said you were smart,” he says wearily, “but your cleverness has brought embarrassment to our home and our name.”
“Writing to my father was the right thing to do—”
“For whom? For Spinster Aunt? She cared for me when I was a boy. I have fond memories of her. Then to see her like that… As for Young Midwife—”
“Remember I was the target.”
“But nothing happened to you, did it?” Our eyes meet. “Yunxian, what bothers me is that you didn’t talk to me first. How is there love or even duty in your choice?”
I put a hand on his sleeve and feel the warmth of his arm through the silk. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
He pulls away from me and wordlessly returns to his desk.
I feel unsettled as I walk through the colonnade. I’ve righted wrongs but at what cost? When I get back to my room, I find a note from my father informing me that he’s arranged for us to meet before he departs. The next morning at the appointed time, I go to the Hermitage terrace. All traces of the sorrows and pain that transpired here are gone in another example of the washing away of wrongs. I pour tea for my father. The koi swim close to the terrace, looking for handouts. This is the most time I’ve spent alone with my father in my life, or at least that I can remember.
“Let us not waste these precious moments,” he begins, breaking the silence. “If Respectful Lady were here, she’d be as proud of what you’ve accomplished as a doctor as I am.”
“Thank you, Father,” I say, bowing my head.
He regards me. “We do not know each other. For this I blame myself.”
I’m unsure how to respond.
“After your mother died, I was brokenhearted.” He slowly nods as if to acknowledge the truth of this assessment to himself. “I turned inward and away from my children. I thought only of myself and my career. I had studied so hard to take the imperial exams—”
“And look what happened,” I interrupt, throwing aside decorum. “You were awarded by the emperor. You rose high on the Board of—”
“I achieved much success, but I abandoned you and your brother when you needed me.”
“We had Miss Zhao.”
“A concubine.”
“She has always been loyal to you and to Yifeng and me.”