Against the Current - Chapter 57

Chapter 57 - Poetry Society (Part 3)

The prompt was novel and exquisite. Xianglan thought for a moment and said, "I can write it, but I'm afraid it won't be very good, and the Yi-niang might not care for it."

Mother Wu urged, "My good girl, just write something to fill the quota!"

Xianglan mused to herself, It mustn't be written too well, nor too poorly, and certainly not overly profound. I'll simply pick some straightforward words to write down. For some inexplicable reason, she suddenly thought of the poem Song Ke had inscribed upon her fan: "The bright moon and old friend are far away; the secluded orchid's fragrance alone remains. In the small tower, I hear the night flute; the silence of the third watch has already fallen." Staring blankly at the potted orchid before her for a moment in quiet reverie, she took up her writing brush and swiftly dashed off a matching verse: "Whose white jade orchid, left behind in the spring breeze, guards its solitary strand of fragrance, unsettling the dreams of a transient life."

She stared at the poem for a moment, then quietly changed the word "previous" to "transient", recopied it once more, handed it to Mother Wu, and instructed, "Mother, please don't mention that I wrote this."

Mother Wu muttered vague assents and hurriedly rushed off to deliver it to Qinglan. Unfolding the paper and taking a look, Qinglan immediately knitted her brows and said, "What kind of poem is this? It doesn't even rhyme, and it's only four lines—far too brief. The Second Young Miss and the others are composing regulated seven-character verses. Mother, go have someone write another one." With that, she shoved the paper back into Mother Wu's hands.

Suppressing her irritation, Mother Wu replied, "There are no others; this is the only one. Either the Yi-niang uses it, or this old servant has no other recourse."

Pouting her lips, Qinglan looked somewhat displeased. Seeing her persist in such childish petulance, Mother Wu felt a wave of emotion and wanted to offer a few words of advice. Yet after rolling the words around in her mouth a couple of times, she ultimately left them unsaid, shook her head, and walked away.

Terrified that Qinglan might saddle her with more difficult tasks, Mother Wu bypassed the Gathering Green Lodge and headed toward the Zhichun Lodge, intending to retreat there and steal a moment of leisure. As soon as she stepped back into the East Side Courtyard, she heard the sound of snoring drifting from the bedroom. Stepping inside to check, she found Lin Jinlou sprawled across the bed, having haphazardly grabbed a pillow and fallen fast asleep.

Mother Wu hurried over to fetch a thin brocade quilt, tip-toeing across the room to drape it gently over Lin Jinlou. Knowing that Lin Jinlou was skilled in martial arts and had spent long years in the army, naturally making him a hundred times more alert than ordinary men, she had barely drawn close when Lin Jinlou snapped awake. Mother Wu quickly set the quilt down and stammered apologetically, "The Master must be exhausted. When did you return? You should rest a bit longer. If you're hungry, there's fresh porridge in the kitchen."

Lin Jinlou sat up, rubbing his eyes, his voice still somewhat husky. "I just got back a moment ago. Seeing that the room was empty, I laid down on the bed and drifted off without realizing it."

Seeing that Lin Jinlou looked travel-worn and utterly exhausted, Mother Wu felt a deep pang of heartache. "Today, Concubine Lan is hosting a poetry society as the hostess. Everyone in the Zhichun Lodge went over, and even the little maids left behind to look after the place slipped away to play." With practiced efficiency, she brewed a cup of tea and brought it forward.

Lin Jinlou waved his hand. "No need." He frowned slightly. "A poetry society? What poetry society?"

The mere mention of the poetry society filled Mother Wu with indignation. Frowning wryly, she said, "The Master has no idea—Concubine Lan listened to Meimei's instigation and insisted on organizing a poetry society for the Second Young Miss. But being heavily pregnant and having no experience in managing such affairs, how could she possibly have what it takes to run a poetry society? Ah, these past few days the East Side Courtyard has been completely upside down, all because everyone is running themselves ragged over this business of hers."

Lifting the teacup, Lin Jinlou found Mother Wu's account rather amusing. "What poetry society? It's just a game to amuse herself. If she wants to play around with it, let her; it's no big deal."

Hearing this, Mother Wu stiffened her neck in protest. "What do you mean, 'no big deal'? It's a huge deal. When the Master has some leisure, you should go teach her a thing or two. A pregnant woman's primary duty is to tend to her pregnancy in peace; kicking up a fuss over nothing—what would happen if the child were harmed? Besides, if she wants to toss things about, she ought to have the capability for it. She doesn't know the first thing about managing a household, yet she goes around issuing chaotic orders, and eventually she just threw her hands up and quit, leaving all the hard work to these old bones of mine..." As she grumbled, she wrung out a hot towel and handed it to Lin Jinlou to refresh his face.

Though Lin Jinlou lacked the patience to listen to Mother Wu's complaints, he still held deep respect for his wet nurse. Laughing offhandedly, he placated her, "Alright, alright, I know you've been working hard on account of us these past few days. Later on, I'll have the accountant disburse ten taels of silver for you to buy some good food and nourish yourself... And while I was out these past few days, I even brought back a bolt of top-grade fabric just for you..." He took the towel and wiped his face.

Mother Wu persisted, "It's not just me; that little maid named Xianglan deserves a handsome reward as well."

Lin Jinlou paused. "Xianglan?"

"Yes, the one who burned her face, the one the Master gave ointment to." Mother Wu smiled broadly. "She's the one who helped me manage everything inside and out, saving me an immense amount of trouble. That girl is not only capable, but she has vision and insight, a meticulous mind, and takes care of every single detail flawlessly. She knows where to economize and where to spend lavishly... But what's most praiseworthy of all is her character: she doesn't vie for favor or strive to stand out. Even though she managed the entire affair, she specifically instructed me not to speak of it, letting everyone on the outside attribute all the credit to the Yi-niang. Ah... watching her with a cold eye, I'd say she's far superior to any of the young misses in this household. It's just a pity she was born with the fate of a maid..."

Lin Jinlou chuckled. "She's merely a bit clever and pretty; how could she possibly compare to the young misses of our family?"

Intent on singing Xianglan's praises, Mother Wu insisted, "Young Master shouldn't brush it off." With that, she pulled a crumpled scrap of paper from her sleeve and handed it over. "Take a look at this."

Lin Jinlou unfolded it and saw a poem entitled Lingering Fragrance. Curious, he asked, "What is this?"

Mother Wu replied, "That Yi-niang who holds the Master's heart insisted on going along with the young misses to compose poetry, but unable to write a single line, she frantically made me find someone to write one for her. I remembered that Xianglan is literate, so thinking it wouldn't hurt to try, I went and asked her. And would you look at that? The moment she saw the prompt, she wrote this out without a second thought. My goodness, it took her no longer than the blink of an eye."

Hearing that Xianglan had written it, Lin Jinlou carefully examined the poem once more, and couldn't help smiling. "It's a bit brief, and looks rather ordinary."

Mother Wu hummed skeptically. "Even such an ordinary poem is beyond Concubine Lan's capabilities. My dear Master, you really must discipline her and make her behave; if she wants to act high and mighty, waiting until she actually delivers a son won't be too late."

While Lin Jinlou murmured noncommittal assents and asked for some fragrant lily incense to be burned in the bronze censer, Mother Wu stepped out to fetch the incense herself. Left alone, Lin Jinlou pulled out the slip of paper once more and gazed at it repeatedly. The poem itself may not be exceptionally brilliant, he mused, what's truly rare is this handwriting. Written in delicate slender-gold script, it takes a good dozen years of practice to produce a hand this neat and elegant. He flicked the small slip of paper with two fingers, murmuring softly: "Whose white jade orchid, left behind in the spring breeze, guards its solitary strand of fragrance, unsettling the dreams of a transient life." Heh, I wonder whose dreams this orchid has gone off to disturb. At the mental image of Xianglan's delicate, lovely face, a wave of heat surged through his chest.

Just then, Mother Wu re-entered the room, placed three or four pieces of lily incense cakes into the bronze censer, covered it with the dome lid, and chattered on, "If you ask me, Xianglan is truly a fine catch—far superior to any of those girls in the young master's quarters. If I had my way, I'd take her in as a concubine... Ah, though I say this knowing the Master might be displeased, a girl like her deserves to be treated with honor as a proper first-wife; making her a concubine is simply doing her a grave injustice..." She rambled on endlessly without stopping.

Before she knew it, Lin Jinlou suddenly stood up and strode toward the door. Mother Wu hurriedly chased after him for a couple of steps, calling out, "Where is the Master going?"

Without a backward glance, Lin Jinlou strode out swiftly on his long legs, offering no reply.