Her mother waved away the maid who had come to investigate the broken door, and poured the tea herself.
“Have you thought, Daughter, that to her it isn’t easier?” Her mother’s smile was small as she handed Xiaoting the blue porcelain cup. Xiaoting didn’t like the note of pity she detected.
“How hard can it be? She has no responsibility to improve her craft. She doesn’t have a craft, for that matter. All she does is sit in her room and paint. You see the hours Guilan devotes to the workshop. She searches for new ingredients. She spends time in the gardens harvesting flowers and herbs, and in the markets shopping for new spices. You hear her worry about having a daughter, while Yingtai waits for her future to be brought to her.”
Xiaoting drank the tea in a vulgar gulp, indignant on her eldest daughter’s behalf. Guilan was responsible for continuing the Hua family line by having a daughter, leaving her little choice but to marry. Yingtai, the lucky girl, didn’t have to marry if she decided not to, for Xiaoting would never force her—despite what her daughter said.
If Yingtai’s husband joined the Huas, as was their family tradition, so much the better. That had been another fight, one of many, between Xiaoting and her husband, who had still not forgiven her for moving the family out of Nanjing so many years ago. Yingtai was like him. The two preferred to dwell on what could have been rather than deal with what was. They were fantasists who were allowed their dreams because Xiaoting was there to do the work, to make the harddecisions to keep the family together and safe.
“The admiral was right,” said her mother.
The admiral? They had seen Zheng He only occasionally over the years, although he regularly sent messengers to check on the house as if he still owned it. Although safe from the intrigue of the new capital of Beiping, Xiaoting’s moli sales meant she was still in secret contact with many of her old clients, who were happy to pass on gossip about what was happening in the capital. Zheng He must have consulted a fortune teller, for his prediction of the new emperor had been correct. In the last year or so, the Hongxi emperor had put a stop to the diplomatic treasure fleets and grounded Zheng He, who had been named the defender of Nanjing. It was pleasant to have the admiral—for she continued to call him that—close to her, but she knew it pained him to be separated from the open sea.
Had he known he would be back in Nanjing, perhaps he would not have sold Xiaoting the house. She wondered if he ever regretted it, for the property was exquisite. No doubt the gangling woman who shared the admiral’s life would have loved it. At least that was one thing that had turned out well. Zheng He had wished for love, and Xiaoting had provided the answer to his most pressing desire. After all, she thought wryly, the man had experienced adventure, wealth, power, and influence. What was left to possess but love?
She had heard from her clients that his wife was as in love with him as he was with her. Jokes were made about them in the city, where Xiaoting rarely went, but she knew many of them came from envy that Zheng He had found such tenderness and loyalty in a woman. Although there were those who insisted love was nothing but a distraction from the greater goals of life, those who yearned for it would do anything to have it in their hearts.
Most people, she was convinced, fell into the second category. Luckily, for her money chests.
She took a brief moment to listen to the river and admire thegrounds that were hers before turning back to the conversation with her mother. “The admiral was right about what?”
“Do you remember what he said on the visit when he picked up his moli?”
Xiaoting thought back. “He said many things. He’s a man who likes to hear himself speak. Loudly and often.”
“He said you were like a farmer.”
“He did.” Xiaoting remembered now. There had been an odd glint in his eyes that she had put down to the anticipation of meeting his true love.
“You took it as a compliment,” her mother continued. Xiaoting knew that tone. She wasn’t going to like what came next.
“I didn’t take it as anything,” Xiaoting said.
“It was because you drive this family like a farmer drives his oxen,” said her mother. “Yoked to your will.”
Xiaoting tucked her feet under her, then put them back down. “Say what you wish to say. I have much to do.”
Her mother reached over and slapped her lightly on the arm. “You order this household around without a care for anyone else’s concerns.”
Xiaoting nearly dropped her cup in shock. “How dare you?” she said, forgetting to whom she spoke. “I do nothing but think of this family.”
“You think of the family, not the people.”
“They are one and the same.” Xiaoting did her best to hide the quaver in her voice. Of all people to attack her, she would never have expected it to come from her own mother. “Who else will do it apart from me? It’s my responsibility. I am the fifth daughter.” What she left unsaid, because of the guilt that plagued her sleep like a stinging insect, was that it was her error of judgment that had required them to move in the first place and forced the Hua women to hide for the first time since the death of Empress Wu.
Still, the old woman continued, “There may have been othersolutions than to leave our home for this village exile. You never asked, but made the decision on your own.”
“The decision that saved us,” insisted Xiaoting.
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps? You know the warning Zheng He gave us. What was I to do?”
Her mother’s wrinkled face creased. “I don’t know, Daughter. I never had the chance to take part in a discussion, although it was my right. Nor did your husband, although it was his right.”
“As he has pointed out many times,” muttered Xiaoting.
“Do you blame him? He came home and his wife had half the household ready to start out the city gate. You’re lucky he allowed it.”
