Against the Current - Chapter 46

Chapter 46 - The Fan

Chen Wanquan had consumed too much wine at noon and lay down on the kang in a daze, soon falling fast asleep and snoring like thunder. Mrs. Xue then dispatched the young boy playing at the entrance to take a message to the antique shop, asking for half a day's leave for Chen Wanquan. Xianglan helped Mrs. Xue with chores inside and out while listening to her chatter on about trivial domestic matters.

Once she had finished her chores, Xianglan, eager to pay a visit to Abbess Danyi, tucked a string of copper coins into her pocket and went to a shop on the street to buy two packages of pastries and some fruit. Upon arriving at the Jingyue Nunnery, she discovered to her disappointment that Abbess Danyi was currently in seclusion. With no other choice, she had to leave the fruits and pastries behind, along with a letter for the abbess, and departed with a sense of disappointment.

As she bypassed the outer wall of the Jingyue Nunnery, she heard someone saying, "Yifei, why aren't you using that fan from yesterday? The poem inscribed upon it is so exceptionally fine—it's far more interesting than this landscape fan of yours."

She heard Song Ke reply, "That poem was just casually scribbled; what's so good about it?"

Peeking around the corner, Xianglan saw two young gentlemen standing with their backs to her: one was Song Ke, and the other was Lin Jingting. Lin Jingting laughed and said, "How can you say it's not good? 'The bright moon leaves the old friend afar, the solitary orchid lingers in empty fragrance; from the small tower comes the sound of a night flute, a deep stillness marks the third watch.' Simple as those few lines are, they carry such a melancholy and profound artistic conception. Someday, you should have someone skilled in strings and bamboo instruments set it to music and sing it."

Song Ke chuckled. "What are you talking nonsense about? It was just written on a whim for fun. If such a feminine, sentimental thing gets spread about, the great Confucian scholar Liu will accuse me of neglecting my proper pursuits and indulging in idle frivolity once more."

Lin Jingting scoffed. "You, indulging in idle frivolity? By now you can probably recite all the commentaries on the eight-legged essays backward! If I hadn't dragged you out to wander about, there's no telling how long you'd have spent studying."

Whatever the two of them said afterward, Xianglan did not hear a single word. Her mind was entirely transfixed by the lines, "'The bright moon leaves the old friend afar, the solitary orchid lingers in empty fragrance; from the small tower comes the sound of a night flute, a deep stillness marks the third watch.'" She stood there in a daze for a long while. In her previous life, during their banishment and exile, they had spent a night lodging in a dilapidated, drafty, cold, and damp riverside cabin. As the twilight deepened and there were no candles in the room—only a crescent moon hanging in the sky—she had leaned against the window to gaze out at the scattered fishing fires on the river, listening faintly to the sound of a flute drifting from afar. At that time, Xiao Hang had already fallen ill, half-propped against the head of the bed as he coughed.

The scene had indeed been too desolate and withered. She had poured half a bowl of cold water for Xiao Hang, feeding it to him slowly, and tried to lighten the mood with a conversational prompt, smiling as she said, "If this house weren't so wretchedly broken down, living here would actually have a touch of romance. I'll make up the first half of a couplet for you to match—you're a man of letters, so you aren't allowed to laugh at how crude my words are."

Xiao Hang had drawn a breath, his pale lips curving slightly in a faint, detached smile as he replied, "Go ahead with your line, and I'll try to match it."

She had recited: "The bright moon is distant, the small tower hears the flute like a dream."

After thinking for a moment, Xiao Hang had said: "The old friend has parted, all sounds of nature are stilled by the third watch."

She had smiled and said, "A wonderful match! Our two lines together could make a poem, and two of the verses would be 'From the small tower comes the sound of a night flute, a deep stillness marks the third watch.'"

Xiao Hang had smiled as well, his emaciated cheeks half-hidden in the shadows of the moonlight.

Then, she had suddenly reached out and slowly clasped Xiao Hang's hand. He had been startled for a moment before slowly tightening his grip around hers.

Amidst such bleak and dreary circumstances, her heart had actually felt a trace of warmth.

In truth, she knew that before marrying her, Xiao Hang had loved another woman—a maternal cousin of his. Because that woman's family background was deemed too humble, the match had fallen through. After their marriage, she had once laid eyes upon that woman and had to admit she possessed peerless elegance, a head full of literary refinement, and a grace in both appearance and demeanor. Xiao Hang had quietly kept a smooth, warm white-jade piece of peace-and-safety pendant that the woman had given him, always wearing it tied around his neck. Thus, she had known all along that Xiao Hang had mostly married her because of her grandfather's status as the Senior Grand Secretary. Though the two of them had lived together harmoniously and shared a certain accord, she had ultimately found it difficult to completely quiet the grievance in her heart.

Yet ever since their exile and the countless hardships along the road, a genuine bond of marital affection had truly been forged between them.

Those very lines—"From the small tower comes the sound of a night flute, a deep stillness marks the third watch"—had been playfully carved by her onto the wall of that ruined cabin.

Now, those exact verses were being recited aloud by Song Ke. It struck Xianglan like a thunderbolt from a clear sky; her heart pounded frantically, and she involuntarily took a few quick steps forward, nearly crashing right into Lin Jingting.

Instantly displeased, Lin Jingting spun around, glared at Xianglan, and scolded, "Watch where you're going! Are you blind?"

Still standing in a daze, Xianglan kept her eyes fixed squarely on Song Ke, entirely oblivious to what Lin Jingting had just said.

Glaring at her, Lin Jingting muttered, "Hey, are you deaf? You bump into your young master and don't even have a word to say?" Song Ke turned around and caught sight of Xianglan standing behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but upon seeing the bright, limpid depths of her eyes swimming with unshed tears, the words caught in his throat and he could utter no more.

Muttering under his breath, Lin Jingting said, "Staring with those blank eyes of hers—is she some kind of silly girl?" He tugged at Song Ke's arm. "Let's go; this person is already out of her wits."

Meeting Xianglan's gaze, Song Ke suddenly felt a flutter of panic, as if those eyes were peering straight into his bones and illuminating every corner of his heart and lungs. They held a lingering affection and a faint trace of wistful sorrow that left him powerless to tear himself away. He knew this was hardly an opportune moment for conversation, yet his feet felt as though they had taken root, refusing to budge.

At that moment, Lin Jingting's pageboy, Lu'er, trotted up eagerly and announced, "The private room at the Shunfu Tower has already been prepared. A whole table of delicate pastries has been served, along with a pot of the finest West Lake Longjing tea. Will the two young masters please head over?"

Having strolled about long enough to work up an appetite and a powerful thirst, Lin Jingting happily declared, "Splendid, just in time! Let's hurry over."

Glancing around, Song Ke noticed a calligraphy and painting shop nearby that dealt in writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. He turned to Lin Jingting and said, "You go ahead; I need to pick up some writing supplies before I join you."

With a disdainful curl of his lip, Lin Jingting replied, "In a common marketplace like this, what kind of fine literati treasures could there be? Tomorrow I'll gift you an inkstone from the Duan River."

With a smile, Song Ke retorted, "That's where you don't understand—the whole point of buying here is for a touch of rustic charm."

Parched with thirst, Lin Jingting waved a hand and said, "Fine, go buy your things then. This young master is going ahead to have a cup of hot tea." With that, he followed Lu'er away.

Once Lin Jingting was out of sight, Song Ke turned back to look at Xianglan. Her complexion was as luminous as jade, her delicate brows and eyes as exquisite as a painting, though tinged with a bewildered expression. Feeling as though he could never look at her enough, his heart began hammering at twice its normal speed. He lowered his head, cleared his throat, and said, "We meet again. Why aren't you on duty in the mansion? What are you doing out here?"

The words "on duty in the mansion" landed like a basin of cold water poured straight over her head. Lowering her gaze, Xianglan murmured, "Today Auntie granted me leave, so I came home to visit my parents."

Uncertain why a cloud of sorrow had suddenly settled over her face, Song Ke asked, "Is something the matter at home?"

Xianglan shook her head. When she lifted her face again, the sorrow had vanished, replaced by a radiant smile. "What a coincidence to run into Master Song here." She wanted to ask about those two lines of poetry, but the words stuck in her throat.

Seeing her smile, Song Ke smiled back in spite of himself. "Xiuhong insisted on dragging me out for a stroll on the street."

With that, the conversation lapsed into silence. Song Ke felt a secret flicker of annoyance with himself. In this lifetime, his singular ambition was to pass the imperial examinations, enter officialdom, and achieve great things to make up for the regret of his untimely death in his prime during his past life. He had believed himself entirely detached and serene regarding all worldly matters, yet before this young maid, his heart fluttered like a cage full of frantic spritely rabbits, pounding without pause.

After a moment, Song Ke finally found a topic of conversation and said, "I'm going to browse in the calligraphy shop; won't you come with me?"

Unexpectedly, Xianglan spoke at the exact same moment: "The fan you had..."

"What?" Song Ke asked.

Startled, Xianglan shook her head and muttered, "Nothing." She drew a breath and smiled, "Didn't you say you wanted to visit the shop? Let's go in and take a look." With that, she stepped into the shop ahead of him.

Leaning back in his chair and dozing off, the shopkeeper snapped awake at the sight of a young gentleman entering, hastily stepping forward to greet him. Noticing the fine quality of the visitor's attire, his face broke into an even wider smile as he offered the most attentive service.

Uncertain of what he actually wished to buy, Song Ke glanced over the xuelang paper and various colored pigments, suddenly recalling his sister Tanchai mentioning that she and Lin Dongqi had been composing poetry and painting over the past couple of days and were still short of some pigments and stationery supplies. He instructed the shopkeeper to select the finest quality items, packing a medium-grade brush, a small-grade brush, two taels of cinnabar, two taels of orpiment, two taels of traditional mineral red, and two sheets of rouge paper.

As he paid the bill, Song Ke cast a few covert glances at Xianglan, who stood with her head bowed, lost in thought. This girl—earlier, when she bumped into him, she had looked at him with tear-filled eyes brimming with a mix of sorrow and joy; afterward, she had worn a blank, absent expression, followed by deep sadness; and now, her current thoughts were completely unreadable.

Once they stepped out of the shop, he cleared his throat and said, "After Cao Lihuan was driven out of the mansion, I actually wanted to ask to take you into my service, but then you ended up serving Auntie Lan instead. If you aren't getting along well or feeling mistreated in Auntie Lan's quarters, I can mention it to Madam in a couple of days and have you transferred to my sister's side. Her disposition is gentle, and she is the most generous person when it comes to treating others."

A bittersweet ache welled up in Xianglan's chest, accompanied by an irrepressible surge of joy. She asked, "Really?"

Song Ke smiled faintly. "Of course. If you ever face any difficulties in the future, just come straight to me."

Seeing the genuine sincerity in his gaze, Xianglan couldn't help pressing her lips together in a smile. "I'm afraid I will inevitably be troubling Master Song in the days to come."

To Song Ke, her smile felt like the first thawing ice of spring. It set his heart tingling and pounding even more wildly. Keeping his hands clasped tightly behind his back clutching his fan, he maintained a composed expression on the outside, gave a firm nod, and said, "What trouble? Just come whenever you need." He paused, then added with a playful smile, "Though I've been waiting for you to make me a stationery pouch, I still haven't seen hide nor hair of it."

Xianglan's cheeks flushed slightly. "I've been too busy recently, but once I have some free time in a couple of days, I'll make it for you."

Her lowered eyelashes were thick and long, and as she stood bathed in the sunlight, she looked like a creature sculpted from pure jade. Reluctant to leave, Song Ke caught sight of his pageboy, Tingquan, peering around a corner not far off, and was forced to say, "I must be going now. I'm currently staying in the courtyard on the north side of the Lin residence."

Xianglan nodded, curtsied gracefully, and said with a smile, "Safe travels, Master Song."

Song Ke took two steps away, then suddenly turned back, thrust the folded fan from his hand straight into Xianglan's grasp, and said, "You mentioned the fan just now—this one is yours." With that, he turned and walked away.

She watched Song Ke's retreating figure, a sudden sense of emptiness washing over her heart. Unfolding the fan in her hand, she saw that the exquisitely painted surface depicted a expanse of azure water ruffled by a gentle breeze, with faint green mountains in the distance, and a delicate crystal pendant hanging from the base of the frame. Xianglan silently tucked the fan away. Originally, she had wanted to ask him about those two lines of poetry—to ask Song Ke if he truly was that person... yet her heart had suddenly grown indifferent. What use would asking be? She was no longer the daughter of a distinguished aristocratic family; she was merely a maid. Could she possibly expect him to continue their past romance? Her present status in this life was an insurmountable chasm; could she truly be content to become his concubine?

Yet his lingering affection and tender consideration for her set her heart fluttering with joy, like a dormant seed breaking through the soil to sprout a tender green shoot.

Even though she knew full well she had no business coveting such things, she found herself powerless to stop.