Against the Current - Chapter 89

Chapter 89 - Yearning 

Xianglan and Song Ke floated their lotus lanterns together, and as the night grew deeper, they did not linger, returning home side by side. Xianglan enjoyed a sound sleep through the night. The next day, Song Ke went off to study at the academy as usual. Xianglan tidied up the rooms both inside and out, pulled all the clothing out from the chests and baskets, folded each piece neatly, and sorted them into piles to place inside the wardrobe.

Yuexi smiled and said, "I've long wanted to sort through the Young Master's clothes, but I never found the time."

Xianglan said, "Some of these clothes are worn so old that the hems are frayed white. Even if one is frugal, it shouldn't be to this extreme. The Young Master is out greeting guests and interacting with people all day long—mixing with aristocratic scions, prominent officials, and local gentry. Aside from anything else, the worst kind are those snobbish scoundrels who judge people by their clothes; we mustn't let him be looked down upon." She pointed them out one by one, saying, "These few pieces are new; put them at the very top for the Young Master to wear when receiving guests. These semi-new ones can have their collars and cuffs replaced later; spray them with warm liquor and press them with a hot iron, and they'll look good as new. These three have tears and damage; we must patch the holes where we can, and for the places that can't be patched, embroidering a small flower over them will cover it up nicely. The most regrettable is this heavy winter coat, which has been eaten by moths; tomorrow we should ask the steward to bring over another camphor wood chest. And these few here—they've been washed too old or have oil stains on the lapels—we should ask the Young Master if he's done wearing them, and if so, give them away as rewards to others."

Yuexi clapped her hands together in delight and said, "Every season the Young Master has three or four outfits made, but they just get tossed into the chests, and sometimes he forgets about them entirely once they're finished. It's a blessing we pulled them out to take a look." She then called out to Junxi, and together with Xianglan, they set about tidying the clothing and hunting down matching fabrics for mending and patching.

Yuexi suddenly let out a sigh and said, "Ah, if the master were still alive, the Young Master wouldn't have to wear clothes like this. Every year he'd have several new outfits tailored, and old things like these would have been discarded long ago."

Xianglan said, "There's nothing wrong with wearing old clothes, anyway he doesn't go out to see guests much."

Junxi remarked, "The Young Master is hoarding his silver so he can make social rounds and grease palms after he passes the provincial examination. Those officials up in the capital are all black-hearted; without greasing the right joints, how could the Young Master ever secure a good post?"

Just as they were talking, a voice called out from beneath the base of the window, "Is Xianglan girl in?" Xianglan peeked out and saw Mother Gong standing just outside the door. She hurriedly set down her work, climbed down from the platform bed with her shoes on, walked outside, and said, "What brings Mother here? Please, come inside and sit down."

Mother Gong's face was wreathed in smiles as she took Xianglan's hand and said, "It's nothing much. I've come today specifically to offer an apology to you, girl. My silly girl doesn't know any better and offended you with her words; please forgive her roughness and ignorance, and don't hold it against her. I've given her a thorough scolding back at home."

Xianglan understood immediately. It was certain that Song Ke had gone to reprimand Mother Gong, so she smiled and said, "What is Mother saying? It was my own tongue that was clumsy—I didn't know which words were proper to say and which weren't. I must ask Sister Fangsi to be generous and overlook it."

The two of them exchanged polite pleasantries with fake smiles plastered on their faces before Mother Gong handed over the food box she was holding, saying, "These are freshly steamed cloud-flake cakes made this very morning; I brought them for the few of you to share."

Xianglan smiled gracefully and said, "Thank you for troubling yourself, Mother." In return, she fetched a box of eight-treasure preserved fruits and had Mother Gong carry it back with her.

What Xianglan did not know was that early that morning, Song Ke had gone to pay his respects to Madame Song. After the mother and son exchanged a few lighthearted remarks, Fangsi—who had been standing nearby to serve—seized the opportunity and chimed in, "The trousers I made for the Young Master are finished. If the Young Master will take a look, I can make any adjustments if anything isn't to your liking." With that, she held the trousers out toward Song Ke.

Madame Song smiled and said, "Fangsi spent two nights staying up to make these; you aren't allowed to complain that they're poorly done."

Song Ke half-bowed slightly and said, "I wouldn't dare." He then glanced at Fangsi and added, "Thank you for your trouble."

Fangsi's cheeks flushed instantly, and she cast a coy, bashful look at Song Ke. For all her usual quickness of tongue, she found herself completely at a loss for words now, and slowly stepped back to stand beside Madame Song.

Madame Song and Mother Gong exchanged a glance, both wearing identical, knowing smiles. Taking it all in, Song Ke lowered his gaze slightly. After a brief pause, he said, "Fangsi has served Mother diligently and faithfully all these years, rendering great and exhausting service. However, she is also growing a bit older now; Mother, please keep an eye out and help her find a good match, and when the time comes, I will also add a dowry gift for her."

Before the words had even faded, Fangsi's face turned ashen, and tears welled up in her eyes. Madame Song was taken aback; she looked at Mother Gong with an expression of awkwardness, yet not wishing to defy her son's wishes, she said, "You're right, of course. We certainly cannot treat Fangsi unfairly."

Song Ke stayed no longer, standing up to take his leave. Mother Gong escorted him out to the doorway, where Song Ke suddenly stopped, turned around, and said, "Fangsi is, after all, a maidservant in the Mistress's chambers. In the future, any needlework she does should prioritize the Mistress first. Wearing herself out making trousers for me—first of all, my heart cannot bear it, and second of all, if she falls ill, who will tend to the chores in the Mistress's rooms?"

Mother Gong's heart sank yet again, and she nodded repeatedly, saying, "The Young Master is entirely right. From now on, Fangsi will only handle needlework for the Mistress."

Having made his point without overstating it, Song Ke turned and walked away.

Mother Gong felt that something was amiss with Song Ke's tone. When she stepped into the inner parlor, she found Fangsi wiping away tears in the corner of her room. Upon questioning her and learning about the verbal clash with Xianglan the day before, Mother Gong scolded anxiously, "I told you time and again to steer clear of Xianglan, but you simply wouldn't listen! Now you've left yourself no room to maneuver!" Without delay, she brought pastries over to offer apologies to Xianglan. Upon returning, she let out a long sigh of lament to Fangsi: "Today I looked closely at Xianglan's appearance once more—she looks like a fairy descended from heaven, and every word and action of hers is flawless. No wonder the Young Master keeps her in his heart. Since you've already torn your face off with her like this, you should know she isn't someone who can tolerate others. Once the Young Master brings a proper First Madam back home in the future, you'll have plenty of suffering ahead of you. Why on earth did you need to lock horns with her right now? Listen to your mother: from this day forward, stay far, far away from her, and for heaven's sake, don't give the Young Master any more cause for displeasure."

Fangsi choked back her sobs and gave her assent, though inwardly she harbored a bitter resentment toward Song Ke's heartlessness and hated Xianglan for ruining her prospects—a matter best left unmentioned for now.

Meanwhile, once Xianglan finished tidying up Song Ke's quarters, she sat down to paint a picture of insects and foliage, inscribing the four characters "Recluse of Orchid Fragrance" upon it. She pulled out a personal seal, pressed it into the vermilion paste, and firmly stamped it at the bottom. Her paintings were elegant and refined in their palette and brushwork, though they occasionally featured striking, rich splashes of color. While her flowers and plants leaned toward the expressive yi style, her insects were meticulously detailed with fine gongbi brushwork—graceful, lively, and utterly unique. Because such tasteful paintings were extremely rare on the open market, they were immensely popular among the madams and young misses of elite gentry households.

Not long ago, because Xianglan had entered the Lin estate and had no time to paint, only two or three pieces had been handed over to Chen Wanquan to sell, making them impossible to find anywhere else. Overnight, the price of these paintings had skyrocketed several times over, to the point where imitations began appearing on the streets; yet those copies could never capture the charming atmosphere of Xianglan's work. Though Chen Wanquan was an unreliable sort, he was skilled at scheming, possessed a glib tongue, and had puffed up the reputation of these paintings to the utmost degree. Nowadays, a single small painting sold for as much as seven or eight taels of silver, leaving Chen Wanquan so lightheaded with joy that every bone in his body felt weightless.

Xianglan, however, refused to produce too many. She would only paint one or two small pieces at a time, which Chen Wanquan would sell out the moment he hung them up in the shop. In no time at all, the moniker "Recluse of Orchid Fragrance" became renowned, and a whole crowd of scholars and literati considered owning one of her pieces a badge of honor, driving the value of her art even higher.

Feeling a stifling heat in the room after finishing her painting, Xianglan peeked out through the window and saw dark clouds massing across the sky, signaling an approaching rainstorm. She quickly grabbed an umbrella, stepped out to the veranda, and called out to Greenbean, "The Young Master likely didn't carry an umbrella when he left this morning. Run over to the academy to deliver one, and make it a swift trip there and back." Greenbean took the umbrella and hurried off.

Xianglan put away her painting, thinking that it was best not to leave her artwork lying around the Song residence. She picked up an umbrella, slipped out quietly through the back door, and returned home. Finding that Chen Wanquan was not around, she handed the painting to Xue Shi, giving her a few words of instruction: "Mother, wait half a month before giving this painting to Father. You mustn't sell them too frequently; once something loses its rarity, its price drops. After a while, I'll stop painting insects and foliage and switch to landscape paintings instead. If those can also fetch a high price, that would be even better." She added, "Father originally told people I painted these, but now that must never be allowed. Make Father change his story—tell everyone he simply misspoke and was just bragging wildly. Explain that the paintings were actually done by a literati scholar who traveled far and wide, and who had previously stayed at Jingyue Nunnery and gifted me several pieces, which I've treasured ever since and am only now bringing out to sell."

Xue Shi agreed repeatedly, carefully putting the painting away as she said, "Your father said that a painting like this, mounted with a fine ebony scroll rod, will fetch an extraordinary price."

Seeing the sky as dark as the bottom of a cooking pot, Xianglan exchanged a few hasty words with Xue Shi and stepped outside. No sooner had she left than a rumble shook the sky, and fat, heavy raindrops came pelting down in a flurry. Xianglan hurriedly popped open her umbrella, hitched up her skirt, and quickened her pace toward the back door of the Song estate. Just as she arrived, she caught sight of a scholar dressed in a cyan cotton-cloth robe standing beneath the eaves to dodge the rain.

Xianglan walked closer and looked more closely, realizing instantly that this person was none other than Xiayun.

As it turned out, ever since Xia Second Aunt had spoken to Xiayun about Xianglan, he hadn't felt quite right about it. In his free moments with fellow students, he had often discussed various young ladies of good families, and even courtesans from the pleasure quarters. He possessed a certain handsome charm, a refined demeanor, and being a scholar, quite a few families favored him. The elder daughters and young wives in the neighborhood also liked to exchange a few casual words with him and secretly pass him embroidered sachets or handkerchiefs. Once, when he and several classmates were wandering down the street, Little Cuixian of the Yihong Courtyard had been leaning against the railing of the embroidered tower cracking melon seeds and laughing. Plucking a flower from her hair, she tossed it down upon him, drawing waves of envious and jealous teasing from the surrounding onlookers. He had blushed furiously at the time, yet deep down, an irrepressible sense of pride had swelled within him. Stealing a glance upward, he had felt that Little Cuixian possessed a striking, flirtatious allure; with just a flutter of her eyelashes, she exuded myriad charms. Try as he might to maintain his self-restraint, his heart had couldn't help fluttering a little.

Yet ever since he laid eyes upon Xianglan, he felt that even if Little Cuixian was romantic and striking, she ultimately belonged to a vulgar, lower tier, falling far short of Xianglan's pure, elegant nobility. Mulling this over in his thoughts, he found himself unable to focus on his books, so he simply went out for a stroll. Passing by the pawnshop where Chen Wanquan sat behind the counter, he caught sight of a painting hanging on the shop wall entitled Chinese Cabbages and Cherries, painted by Xianglan. The brushwork was spirited and exquisite, fresh and refined, causing his heartstrings to sway. He thought to himself, 'To paint such a masterpiece, one must possess vast horizons within their breast,' and his yearning grew all the stronger.

Walking out of the shop, he had unconsciously wandered right up to the doorstep of Xianglan's home, as if hoping against hope to catch another glimpse of her. Finding her gone, disappointment had gripped his heart. He lingered in the alley for a while, still unwilling to give up, only for the skies to suddenly open up in a torrential downpour, forcing him to scurry over to the eaves of the Song estate's back door to take shelter from the rain.

He had just noticed a young girl approaching with an umbrella, suspecting it might be Xianglan. When she drew near and slightly tilted her umbrella upward, revealing a lotus-like face and a pair of eyes resembling black agates, Xiayun felt his heart instantly leap into his throat as if a dozen little rabbits were trapped inside, pounding frantically.