“I had been in Nanjing to see a client with my brothers. Jun had been there as well.”
Zhengyi smiled to herself, unable to explain to Yulan the sheerexcitement of being in the city. Their house in the country was large but quiet, and the sounds and movement of Nanjing kept her holding her breath to absorb everything. Jun had been so different from the other men in her life, and especially from Hao, who walked leaning forward as if he were being chased and had a permanent line of worry between his brows. Decades later, the memory of Jun’s smile, slow and soft and all for her, still made her heart leap.
“My mother noticed the change in me first. I told you of the deal we had made.” She looked over at Yulan, forgetting for a moment if she had.
Yulan leaned forward in the battered armchair. “That you could marry who you pleased, as long as she approved. Did she approve of Jun?”
“No.” Zhengyi snorted, but delicately. “She was too smart to let me know. Back in those days I was willful and stubborn, and she knew the moment she said anything bad, I would be in his arms.”
Yulan’s eyebrows shot up, but she quickly schooled her expression. “You wanted to marry him?”
Matrimony had not been uppermost in her mind at the time. Zhengyi looked at her great-granddaughter, a woman in her twenties with innocent eyes and a wide brow, and judged her too young to have to imagine a wrinkled old woman panting in lust for a man who would look ridiculous by modern standards, in his long robe and queued hair. “Yes,” she said.
“Yet you didn’t.”
“Jun courted me, but I was too blind to see his clothes were mended over and over, although he bragged about the luxuries he bought, or the secret gifts he brought were not expensive, but things he said only a woman like me could appreciate.”
“He wanted your money?”
“He did, but had I been told that, I wouldn’t have believed it. Or I might not have cared. My mother was sly. He came to see my brother,and she left a gold pin out as if it had dropped from her hair, and pretended not to notice when it was gone. He didn’t know she had stationed me near the room. I saw him pick it up.”
“He denied it when you accused him?”
Zhengyi laughed. “He didn’t have to. I learned my lesson the moment the hairpin disappeared and I saw the naked greed on his face. He looked more animal than man. Mother and I both thought it money well spent to find out his true self.”
Yulan stared at her in wonderment. “You weren’t angry she tricked him? And you?”
“I was.” Zhengyi recalled the anger and something she’d forgotten about. The relief. The knowledge she wouldn’t have to try to explain her moli to Jun, and to beg to be allowed to stay with her family, and her clients, and the work that was her life. Hao—later Howard—understood and was willing to come to her. He could be trusted to support her and their children, and that stability had been worth more than anything the most exciting lover in the world could offer.
Yet she still regretted Jun. One of many regrets, to be sure, but there. She had often wondered if Hao had similar sorrows, but never had the nerve to ask.
“Then why did you not say anything?”
“My mother had told me something her mother had told her. In fact, I think all mothers have said this to their daughters in the hope that one day, we will no longer need to pass it on.”
Yulan frowned. “What?”
“That we are at a disadvantage in this world.” Zhengyi closed her eyes for a moment, simply to rest them. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt truly refreshed, her body without aches and pain. “We women, I mean. As Huas we have been given a unique gift to help protect ourselves, and we need to be vigilant. Some would take it from us or try to control us. It’s our responsibility to keep ourselves safe for our daughters, and if sometimes that means our own hearts are madeheavier, that is the price we pay.”
She forced her eyes open to see Yulan looking troubled. “Ma told me the same thing when I turned sixteen.”
Ah. Zhengyi reached out a warped hand she no longer recognized as her own. “Perhaps you will not have to tell your own daughter. I chose wisely, in the end. Your great-grandfather respected me and our gift. He was a good man, and I loved him dearly. I miss him.”
They sat in silence as Yulan came over to take Zhengyi’s hand. “You’re tired,” she said gently. “Ma will kill me if I keep you from your rest.”
She checked the water glass was full, and Zhengyi waved her away. “I’ll sleep soon,” she promised. “There’s one last thought I need to get down.”
Yulan looked like she was going to refuse, so Zhengyi summoned her old imperious look, the one that cowed rich clients and worried great-granddaughters alike. Yulan rolled her eyes, the minx. “Don’t tell Ma,” she said.
When she was alone again, Zhengyi took up her pen and let it drop back to the page. She was so tired, and it was late. The morning would be soon enough to write about Jun and the goodness of Hao.
With that, she let her eyes close. Morning. She would do it in the…
36
Hua Tingwen
Qing dynasty. Tingwen’s favorite novel wasDream of the Red Chamber, and her personal scent was inspired by Lin Daiyu.
