Against the Current - Chapter 97

Chapter 97 - Laying It on the Line

Mother Guo had already been sent away. Song Tanchai returned to report to Madam Song, saying, "Mother Guo changed her mind and wants to go to Yangzhou to depend on her nephew. Thinking that she is solitary and helpless, it would be good for her to have family to look after her and provide for her in her twilight years. If the Song family sends some silver each year, it can be considered a gesture of our goodwill. We have already held funeral rites and religious ceremonies for Fangsi, and treated Mother Guo with kindness. Whatever massive debt of human favor we owed should be fully paid off by now."

Madam Song sighed and said, "That is fine as well." Seeing Xianglan standing by the doorway, she recalled what Mother Guo had told her before her departure. Giving her a careful appraisal, she saw that Xianglan truly possessed a peachy, blossom-like complexion, which instantly filled her chest with an oppressive unease. She thought to herself, "As soon as she arrived, because of her, the Eldest Young Master drove away the two most reliable people by my side. Mother Guo was entirely right—what is this if not something that ruins the household and drains its wealth?" A touch of displeasure welled up toward Xianglan, and she waved her hand, saying, "Be off with you both; I need to rest."

Song Tanchai and Xianglan then withdrew, and nothing more need be said of it for the moment.

Following this incident, however, Song Tanchai found Xianglan to be steady and reliable, gradually growing closer to her. From time to time, they would do needlework and chat together, which proved quite harmonious. Song Tanchai said to Madam Song, "I originally thought Xianglan was merely somewhat pretty, but after going through these trials, I've realized she is gentle, tactful, and possesses a fluency and insight that surpasses even those young ladies of noble birth."

Madam Song scoffed, "Coming from a humble little household, what kind of insight could she possibly have?"

Song Tanchai replied, "Mother, you shouldn't say that. A few days ago, I discovered that one of the kitchen wives had stolen household goods to sell for gambling money, while also embezzling the silver allocated for purchasing provisions. I was furious and wanted to chase her out immediately. When Xianglan found out, she stopped me, saying: 'I know Young Miss is someone who cannot tolerate even a grain of sand in her eye, but this servant has already shown remorse. Her mother has served the Song family for decades and has now come over here pleading earnestly on her behalf. If you throw her out just like that, you are likely to chill the hearts of all the old servants. It would be better to transfer her to a different chore, and if she offends again, then banish her to the country estate.' I thought about it and realized she made sense, so I reassigned the woman to washing clothes. Xianglan further remarked: 'Laundry is a grueling and thankless chore. If she performs it earnestly, it will not waste Young Miss's painstaking intentions, and she can still be of use in the future; if she cannot endure it, Young Miss can easily send her packing from the estate without anyone finding fault.' She also instructed me that the matter should not be blown out of proportion. Before I even fully understood what she meant, other servants were already discussing how magnanimous I was, and that I still knew to grant a chance of repentance upon encountering such a servant—praising my benevolence toward those beneath me. After washing clothes for a few days, that woman couldn't bear it any longer and claimed to be ill, whereupon I easily banished her to the estate. Without expending any real effort, I secured a sterling reputation while ridding ourselves of that petty scoundrel. You tell me, Mother, if this isn't having insight, what is? Furthermore, when Mother suspected her character and had me check older brother's rooms, not a single item was missing from brother's quarters—even the loose silver and copper coins used day-to-day were meticulously accounted for. What else does Mother have to worry about? When Mother Guo left, she made off with so many items from the house; if not for Xianglan, I'm afraid that old, cunning slave would have rolled everything up and bolted."

Madam Song turned her back, making it clear she had no desire to listen, and Song Tanchai brought the subject up no longer.

Time flew like an arrow; summer was drawing to a close, and in the blink of an eye, the beginning of autumn had arrived.

Xianglan moved a pot of jasmine indoors, lowered the window shades, and light-footedly brought a bowl of soup to Song柯 (Song Ke), placing it on his desk. Song Ke was in the midst of composing an essay; he laid his brush across the blue-and-white porcelain brush rest, picked up the bowl, gave it a sniff, and asked, "Is this spareribs soup today?"

Xianglan said, "Goji berry and spareribs soup. It has been simmering over a low flame since this morning, and the meat is thoroughly tender." Nimble of hand and foot, she stacked his books neatly into layered piles.

Song Ke asked, "Has Madam's room been served?"

Xianglan replied, "Yuexi sent it over... Ah, I don't know where I've managed to incur Madam's displeasure; she always seems reluctant to even look at me." She let out a sigh as she spoke.

Song Ke furrowed his brow. Some time ago, Madam Song had repeatedly spoken to him about Xianglan's poor character. Later on, she stopped mentioning her character and instead claimed that Xianglan bore the physiognomy of someone destined to "ruin households and drain family wealth," meaning she could not be kept in the house. He had brushed those remarks aside with perfunctory replies, but after hearing it too often, he finally said: "Where on earth did Mother pick up such sheer nonsense? I know Xianglan's character better than anyone; I've never once seen her touch the loose silver and copper coins in my rooms. If Mother doesn't believe me, go ask Yuexi and Junxi. As for physiognomy, that is pure street-diviner talk! When I was a little boy, someone even predicted I wouldn't live past the age of two, and look at me now—didn't I grow up safe and sound into an adult?"

Madam Song had ceased bringing it up after that, and he had assumed the matter was laid to rest, never expecting that Madam Song was still brooding over it. Upon closer reflection, he realized his mother indeed put stock in such supernatural notions, so he planned to take the entire family on a pilgrimage to Ganlu Temple in a few days. At that time, he would give some silver to the monks so they could lavishly praise Xianglan's physiognomy right in front of Madam Song, thereby dispelling her hypochondriac worries. Therefore, he said, "It's nothing; she's simply feeling out of sorts because Mother Guo left. You don't need to overthink anything else."

Xianglan let out another silent sigh. How could she not overthink it? She was currently plotting step-by-step toward a propitious union with Song Ke, but her family background was already a tier below his. If Madam Song disliked her on top of that, achieving her goal would become doubly difficult.

Song Ke watched as Xianglan stood by his side, gathering up the discarded sheets of draft paper one by one. Her delicate hands were slender, with clear and lustrous fingernails, revealing a span of snow-white wrists. He reached out to take Xianglan's hand, pulled her close to his side, and stealthily planted a tender kiss on her fair, tender cheek. Seeing the tips of Xianglan's ears turn red, yet unwilling to let her go, he gently pinched her fingernails and asked, "Other girls stain their nails with touch-me-not flowers—why haven't you?"

Through their constant daily companionship, the two of them had grown quite intimate, their mutual affection deepening by the day. Yet Xianglan still felt a trace of bashfulness and tried to draw her hand back. Finding that Song Ke was holding it fast, she had no choice but to reply, "What would I want to stain those wretched things for? It's terribly vulgar."

Song Ke chuckled. "Whether you stain them or not, they look lovely." He rubbed and examined her hand within his own, saying, "This pair of hands of yours is wonderfully dexterous. The scent pouch you made for me a while ago—you embroidered a maple leaf and a chirping cicada on it, and it was exquisite beyond compare. Xiuhong saw it and tried to snatch it away; fortunately, I snatched it back quickly, otherwise he definitely would have taken it. He asked me who made it, and when I told him I bought it outside, he even badgered me to buy him one."

As he spoke, he unhooked the scent pouch from his waistband, looked at it, and remarked, "This floral pattern was drawn wonderfully well, too. It actually carries seven or eight parts of the flair of 'Hermit Lanxiang'."

Xianglan was startled for a moment and asked, "You know of Hermit Lanxiang as well?"

Song Ke smiled. "Who wouldn't? Her painting technique is renowned, and the artistic conception behind her work is fascinating. There are people in the marketplace paying exorbitant prices to snap up her works, though many who look at them say they capture the form without capturing the spirit. I heard that your father had some acquaintance with her and holds some of her paintings in his possession. In fact, people have even been inquiring with me, hoping to purchase a few pieces."

Song Ke's smile was like the spring breeze of March or the gentle drizzle of summer. Seeing him raise his brows slightly, his eyes and lips curving into crescent moons, the sorrow in Xianglan's heart instantly melted away like smoke in that smile.

As if speaking to himself, Song Ke murmured, "Your name is Xianglan, and his name is Hermit Lanxiang—Xianglan, Lanxiang... could this person possibly be you?" He had meant it merely as a joke, but when he looked up, he saw Xianglan smiling quietly without a word, carrying a deeply meaningful expression. Stunned and suspicious, he blurted out, "It couldn't really be you, could it?"

Xianglan leaned against Song Ke's side, picked up the writing brush, dipped it in ink, and flicked and dabbed across the paper. Moments later, a tiny insect came vividly to life on the page, resting right beside Song Ke's signature seal, lifting its long antennae as if it might crawl away at any second.

Song Ke was utterly astonished. He picked up the paper, looked at it over and over again as if he were laying eyes on a stranger, and then sized her up from head to toe several times.

Xianglan smiled and said, "What? Don't you recognize me anymore?"

After a long moment of stunned admiration, Song Ke breathed, "It really is you?"

Xianglan seated herself beside Song Ke and said, "I learned this from the abbess at Jingyue Nunnery back when I was a child. The reason these paintings can fetch silver nowadays is simply because they are interesting, not because my painting skills are particularly exquisite. Now that I've let you in on the secret, you must keep it a strict secret for me. If others find out these paintings were drawn by a maid, I'm afraid they won't command such high prices anymore."

Song Ke shook his head. "If those literati and scholars knew these paintings came from the hands of a beauty, I'm afraid the price would multiply several times over. The artistic conception in your paintings—possessing elegance amidst the mundane, and mundanity amidst the elegance—is something ordinary works simply cannot match. No wonder your family has been buying property and land; Hermit Lanxiang has recently started painting large-format pieces, and a single painting goes for fifty taels of silver, which matches the annual salary of a chief shopkeeper." Looking at Xianglan, he felt a pleasant sense of surprise, yet somehow, a deep wave of anxiety also churned in his heart.

Slowly, Xianglan straightened her expression, pulled herself up straight, and said, "Since I've laid everything bare to you, I need to make my intentions crystal clear. You saved my life, and this debt of gratitude is one I could never repay across a thousand tribulations. Through our time together... I..." Before she finished speaking, her face flushed crimson. Gritting her teeth, she continued, "I indeed harbor feelings for you, but I am unwilling to serve as a concubine to anyone. Your family lineage is noble, while I am merely a maidservant whose deed of sale is still clenched tightly in your hands. Originally, I had no right to speak to you of such things, but today I dare to speak boldly nonetheless. If you have no intention of marrying me through formal rites with matchmakers, I will double the silver you originally spent to redeem me and take my leave. The immense grace of your saving me will forever be engraved in my heart, and I will surely find a way to repay you in the future."

Song Ke pressed his lips together and remained silent.

He genuinely loved Xianglan now. This girl was gentle and composed, yet possessed an inner resilience that was remarkably tough. She always offered quiet concern and consideration, helping him think through every matter comprehensively. Originally, he had only been drawn to her beauty and disposition; now, he was utterly inseparable from her, wishing to spend their lives together in longevity. Earlier, he had already felt that bestowing the status of a concubine upon someone of Xianglan's appearance and character was to wrong her; now that she possessed such extraordinary talent, she would undoubtedly refuse categorically to lower herself to a secondary position. Xianglan's looks and temperament were peerless; if she possessed even a slightly more respectable background—even if she were the concubine-born daughter of an official's family or the daughter of a wealthy landowner—he would have exhausted every possible means to seek her hand in marriage. Yet right now, while it was true that Xianglan's parents had been restored to commoner status, they were still fundamentally the seed of bondservants. Furthermore, he harbored grand ambitions; in order to revitalize and elevate his family lineage, the ideal choice was to take a wife whose maternal family possessed real influence...

Song Ke gazed silently at Xianglan, then suddenly reached out to stroke her temples and cheek. His hand trembled slightly, as if he longed to touch her yet held back in hesitant conflict.

Xianglan said nothing, her bright, clear eyes fixing a steady gaze upon him. Then, she stood up, walked to the door, and said, "My mother happens to be feeling a bit unwell these past few days. I am asking the Eldest Young Master for leave to go home and tend to her for a couple of days." With that, she pulled the door open and stepped outside.

Song Ke sat alone in the room, staring blankly and unmoving at the lifelike little insect upon the paper.