“You know time was of the essence. He didn’t have to come.” She wished he hadn’t.
Her mother doesn’t bother to answer. “You need to stop treating Yingtai like an ox,” she said with finality.
When she left the room, Xiaoting lay flat on the couch, furiously debating with the faint scent of her mother’s robes since she couldn’t do it with the woman herself. She didn’t treat the family like oxen. Yingtai was merely jealous of her sister. She frowned. Xiaoting’s own sister had never been jealous. In fact, her sister had been almost sad for her. “Imagine having to have a daughter,” she’d said the night she’d left for her husband’s house. “I was saved that, at least, along with this stifling life.”
She had died in childbirth not a year later, the unwanted daughter dying as well.
Xiaoting sat up, the grief that accompanied thoughts of her sister coming to haunt her again. Xiaoting looked out the door in the direction her mother had gone, wishing she hadn’t left. Then again, what would she say? She had made a mistake? It was too late now. They were here, and there was nothing to do but go forward. She was certain it was better to make a decision and live with the consequences than do nothing. The idea of wu wei and its release of control hadnever been understandable to her.
“Mother.” Her elder daughter came in. “What did you say to Yingtai?”
Xiaoting waved her to a seat and Guilan sat down, as obedient as always. Xiaoting looked at her daughter, her long black hair neatly tied up and smelling like something new. “Too much camphor,” she said absentmindedly. “You always put in too much.”
Guilan nodded. “I know. Yingtai said the same thing.”
Xiaoting poured tea to have something to do, wondering at herself. It wasn’t like her to be uncertain, particularly with her daughters, but Guilan was twenty and had recently taken possession of her moli. She suspected that was when things had begun to degrade further with Yingtai. It would continue if Yingtai married and was lost to them forever, like so many other daughters.
“Your sister is angry with me,” Xiaoting said.
“She is.” Guilan’s smile was brief. “She’s never been able to hide how she feels.”
“She says I neglected her for you. Because you are a moli daughter and she is not.”
Guilan kept her expression as bland as unflavored barley porridge, but Xiaoting saw through it. “Guilan.”
“Yes?”
“Have I treated Yingtai poorly?”
Guilan’s eyes slid to the side. “What I think doesn’t matter. If she thinks you did, that’s the most important.”
Useless. Both her girls were useless. Xiaoting waved her away, and her elder daughter swept gracefully out of the room. How dare her mother say she treated people as oxen! How ridiculous. She was the ox, if any of them were. All she did was work for Yingtai and the rest, to keep them safe and fed and clothed, and this was the gratitude she received.
She stood to pace the room and halted by a panel painted byYingtai several years ago, the lines of the branches drawn with a passion that had surprised Xiaoting. Yingtai’s father had been impressed a mere girl could manage to portray such power and insisted on providing her with tutors and the finest tools. Xiaoting stood before it now, looking at it with fresh eyes.
It was a scene from nature, three birds on a branch. Two were larger and looked to the left. The smaller one on the right looked wistfully at them. Light snow came in to cover the branches and the smaller, lonely bird, while the winter sun played on the other two.
Was this how Yingtai saw them? With herself on the outside, looking in? Xiaoting took another step back. Yingtai rarely shared her art with her mother, although she did with her father, and Xiaoting had known that to be presented with this piece had meant something at the time. But she’d been busy with a new commission, and Guilan had been ill with a fever that had spread from the maids. The fields to the west had been dying from too much rain. Although she’d taken the painting and hung it in a place of respect, Xiaoting hadn’t contemplated it in the way she did now. She had not spoken to Yingtai about it.
She had treated it like decor and not art.
Raw, bleeding shame overtook Xiaoting. Her mother was right. She had looked at the family as more important than the individuals. In truth, there was no family without the people. Yingtai could not be treated like Guilan because she was not Guilan, and by treating her individuality as a problem, Xiaoting had forced her daughter away.
She looked at the painting, wondering if it was too late to shelter the small bird under her wing. Her daughter would be suspicious at first and wonder at Xiaoting’s motives. Xiaoting knew from experience she would occasionally fail and slip back into her old pushy ways.
She refused to dwell on the mistakes of her past. The sale to the second wife. Leaving the capital. There was nothing she could do about them, after all, so what was the point? With Yingtai, though,she could make a difference. She could perhaps make up for her mistakes going forward. She could have Yingtai know she belonged here as much as her sister and her value was as great.
She was about to leave to look for Yingtai when a maid came in to announce a visitor.
It was Lady Pan, and in her hand, she held a flask Xiaoting recognized. “You lied,” Lady Pan said, her usually sweet voice high and cracking. “I found no love.”
“Lady Pan.” Xiaoting faced her, wondering about the best way to deal with the enraged woman. Although Lady Pan was robed to perfection and her hair dressed beautifully, tears of anger trembled on her lower eyelashes. “You tried the moli.”
“I wanted love,” Lady Pan said. “Love, my true love. Yet I remain alone with only my husband. You know how cruel he is and what a true love would do for me. It would give me some joy. A little happiness is all I desire. You lied.”
Xiaoting sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This happens sometimes. When the moli fails, it means your true love has died.”
Lady Pan took a deep breath and Xiaoting watched the fury dissipate into bleak acceptance, the quick resignation of a woman who was used to living without hope. How much of the payment would Lady Pan demand back? She would be within her rights to want all of it, and Xiaoting prepared herself for a hard bargaining session. She had to appear reasonable—she didn’t want Lady Pan to spread rumors—but at the same time, it wasn’t her fault the woman’s love was dead.
