Against the Current - Chapter 223
Chapter 223 - Recovered from Illness
Xianglan had spent three days lying in bed. In truth, after breaking into a sweat on the very first night, her body had already felt light and refreshed, but Lin Jinglou had stubbornly insisted she rest for a few more days. Xianglan, harboring a deep dread of Lin Jinglou's capricious temperament and fearing he might reopen the investigation into Abbess Dingru assisting her journey to Yangzhou, chose to go along with the flow and hid in bed for two additional days.
Lin Jinglou was busy from dawn till dusk. Someone must have leaked the news of his arrival in Yangzhou, because ever since, an endless stream of officials and prominent figures of all ranks had been coming to pay visits. Xianglan had secretly glanced through that thick stack of calling cards, and upon closer calculation, she found that civil officials made up the vast majority. After a moment's thought, she understood: the Lin family had always been deeply rooted among civil bureaucrats, boasting dozens of scholar-officials and successful examination candidates across the extended clan, not to mention countless lower-tier scholars. They were a quintessential family of letters and poetry. Someone like Lin Jinglou, who was willing to endure hardship and carve out a path as a military official, was truly an anomaly among them.
Xianglan pushed open the window. Spring scenery was at its absolute peak outside, and two peach trees planted in the courtyard were blooming with such vibrant intensity that they looked like drifting steam and blazing clouds. She stared blankly at the two trees for a long moment. When the little maid Lingqing caught sight of this, she fetched a light cloak from the wardrobe, draped it over Xianglan's shoulders, and said, "There is still a slight chill in the morning air, and Your Ladyship has not yet fully recovered. Catching a draft will only bring on a headache." She then asked, "Lingsu, where is Your Ladyship's medicine?"
As it turned out, when Chu Dapeng and the others had followed Lin Jingting back to the residence Lin Jinglou had acquired in Yangzhou, they noticed there were very few domestic servants and correctly guessed that Lin Jinglou lacked sufficient help to run the household smoothly. Xie Yu, being a thoughtful person, had sent over two carefully handpicked maids the very next day. One was named Lingqing, who possessed a fair grasp of calligraphy and painting; the other was named Lingsu, whose family ancestors had practiced medicine, making her skilled in acupuncture and massage. Both girls were around fourteen or fifteen years of age. While neither possessed breath-taking beauty, they both looked upright and neat.
"My second brother figured that since the little sister-in-law is a talented woman who can write and paint, it wouldn't do for her to lack someone to attend to her writing desk," Xie Yu had said with a full face of smiles when he brought them over. "Hearing from big brother that her constitution is frail, having someone well-versed in medical principles by her side to tend to her recovery will also give big brother peace of mind, won't it?"
Liu Xiaochuan had rubbed his nose and chuckled, "Well, well! 'A scholar who has been apart for three days should be looked at with new eyes.' I always thought old Chu was the one belly-full of sneaky tricks, but I never expected you to be the truly cunning one, brother. Where did this come from, popping in out of nowhere to deliver two people and even calling her 'little sister-in-law' right off the bat?"
Xie Yu had shot Liu Xiaochuan a sharp glare.
Lin Jinglou, however, had smiled and said, "You are as thoughtful as ever. I was just worrying about lacking a couple of attendants around, and your timing completely rescues me from my predicament." With that, he kept the two girls.
On their very first day there, the two maids had knelt and kowtowed to Xianglan, addressing her as "Your Ladyship." Xianglan had frozen for a moment; back in the Lin residence, everyone throughout the entire estate had always called her "Young Mistress." Yet Lin Jinglou had merely nodded with a calm expression, offering a mild, indifferent reprimand instructing them to serve diligently from then on, acting as if he hadn't even heard that title of "Your Ladyship."
Xianglan had looked over at Lin Jinglou before lowering her gaze slightly, her thick, long eyelashes veiling the complicated thoughts swirling in her mind. She had once heard Mother Wu recount how, when Qinglan first entered the household in Beijing, she had enjoyed immense glory and prestige. Mistress Qin had thrown grand banquets for guests, Lin Jinglou had favored and trusted her deeply, and the servants in the capital had all vied with one another to enthusiastically call Qinglan "Your Ladyship" all the way down to Jinling. It wasn't until they encountered Zhao Yuechan—the legitimate, properly wedded wife brought home through the grand ceremonial sedan chair with all the formal rites—that Qinglan had been forced to tuck her tail between her legs and learn how to behave, adding the character for "concubine" in front of her title. A single character's difference placed their status worlds apart. The servants and domestic women had gossiped endlessly behind her back, often gloating with malicious glee: "Tsk tsk, no matter how loudly everyone in the capital shouted it, now that she's met the true mistress and real Buddha, let's see how she dares to keep acting so arrogant. Look at how full of herself she was, genuinely taking herself for a proper grand mistress. In the capital, when people called her 'Your Ladyship,' she'd answer so crisp and bright—let's hear her answer to it now!"
Hearing those words had chilled Xianglan to the bone. Qinglan was a kind-hearted and magnanimous person who had always treated the servants with warmth; she shared no deep-seated enmity with them, so why should they kick her when she was down? Yet that was simply human nature—there were always those who loved watching someone fall from grace, eager to slap them down and step on them while they were at it, deriving a warped sense of smug satisfaction from their cruelty, utterly blind to the fact that such behavior was the ugliest and most repulsive thing of all.
And now, was she destined to inherit that same flattering hollow glory and eventual backstabbing that Qinglan had endured?
Xianglan was no fool; she could tell how deep Lin Jinglou's affections for her ran. But for a man with such a notorious reputation for romantic pursuits, how long could any affection truly last? He was infatuated with her right now and perhaps couldn't bear to let her go, but such fondness was as fragile as paper—a single poke and it would tear apart. Back then, Qinglan had commanded far more prestige than she did, yet Qinglan had died an obscure and suspicious death, her wandering soul left drifting somewhere unknown while the Lin family merely brushed the matter aside with a meager payout of silver. Lin Jinglou acted as though he had long since forgotten her entirely.
What would her own ending be? Was she simply going to resign herself to her fate and live out her life as Lin Jinglou's concubine?
Xianglan mulled it over for a while, feeling a wave of deep discouragement, but realizing that fretting over it was utterly useless, she simply pushed the thoughts aside. Instead, she stared in a daze at a branch of apricot blossoms stretching out over the front courtyard wall, her ears catching the sound of the maids chatting behind the multi-treasure cabinet.
Lingqing's voice chimed cheerfully, "The master said Your Ladyship had no suitable clothes to wear, so early this morning he had someone deliver an entire chest of them. He said they weren't anything special and couldn't compare to garments custom-tailored to your measurements back home, but told Your Ladyship to pick a couple of pieces to wear in the meantime. I honestly thought there wouldn't be anything good inside, but when I popped the lid open just now—goodness gracious—they were all the finest, brand-new silk and fine-cloth garments, and the tailoring styles are completely up-to-date. If these aren't considered good clothes, I truly have no idea what would be."
Lingsu added, "And what about that box of jewelry the master brought back last night? Did you see it when we were combing Your Ladyship's hair this morning? That single pearl hairpin must have been worth at least ten taels of silver! The flower pistil was even made of strung coral." As she spoke, Lingsu carried a tray into the room and said, "Your Ladyship, please drink this while it's hot. This is the last dose."
Xianglan picked up the bowl and downed it in a single gulp. The bitter taste made her shudder, and she quickly shoved a piece of dried plum into her mouth before rising to her feet. "I'm going outside to get some fresh air," she said, making to leave. Lingqing and the others hurriedly moved to follow, but Xianglan turned around and waved them off. "I'm just going to stand in the courtyard for a moment, there's no need to trail after me. You girls take a break too." With that, she walked out toward the moon gate, lifting her gaze to look at the branch of blossoms draped across the wall. The stark contrast of the white walls and dark green tiles against a cluster of fiery red blooms looked exceptionally dazzling, vibrant, and breathtakingly alive.
Meanwhile, Yuan Shaoren had arrived with his personal guards carrying a chest of items. As it turned out, because Xianglan had fallen ill and Lin Jinglou could not spare a moment away, he had entrusted Yuan Shaoren with handling the aftermath. Yuan had first settled matters at the Yicui Pavilion, then led his men to the temple to offer silver and ensure the monks and nuns kept their silence. Noticing that Xianglan's living quarters still contained some of her daily belongings, he had ordered them packed up. Upon spotting a stack of unmounted paintings resting on the writing desk, he unfolded one and instantly broke out in praise. Though not a connoisseur of fine art, he could easily distinguish quality; struck by the restrained, elegant color palette and the poetic mood of the work, he continued unfolding them one by one, only to notice that every single painting bore the seal of a single character stamped at the bottom: "Lan."