“People say you cannot have both fish and bear’s paw. My husband has neither a title to inherit nor extraordinary talent; I may never receive an official rank in this life. Only his steady companionship is something to be praised.”
Xin An, not well acquainted with the young madam of the Zhang household, answered politely, “Though Madam Zhang’s husband holds no post beside the young madam, he defends the country with his abilities—worthy of respect.”
The Zhang young madam laughed. “In that case, there’s truly no comparison. Either you envy me, or I envy you; the world indeed affords no perfect solution.”
Beside them, Lin Yao said, “Being in this temple brings a certain serenity. We women are already fortunate enough; whatever more we seek will only fan needless worries.”
“The lotus pond here at Nandu Temple has its charm. I’ve had a spot saved—let us sit together.”
The temple was quiet; although there were no iced basins to cool them, a gentle breeze carried a faint whiff of incense, lending a peaceful air.
They sat and, as women do, their talk inevitably wandered to the capital’s recent amusements—whose household had taken in a favored concubine, which inner chamber was troubled, and the like. Xin An found it slightly amusing—speaking gossip beneath the Buddha’s gaze; she wondered whether the Buddha minded listening.
Still, she was curious.
Still, she listened with interest.
“Second Young Madam,” said the Zhang young madam suddenly, “I heard your mother-in-law and Madame Tao went to the Count of Changning’s estate, and that Madame Tao even brought Tao Yiran along. The Countess of Changning is not easy to appease—how did it go?”
Xin An found the question abrupt. They were hardly close, and it was rude to pry so bluntly. She only smiled lightly and set her teacup down. “I truly don’t know. They did go, but my mother-in-law hasn’t spoken a word about it. I wouldn’t dare to ask. I imagine the Countess’s anger has likely passed by now.”
Madam Zhang found her dull. Who wouldn’t want to watch a quarrel between sisters-in-law, especially in such circumstances? She probably withheld the truth simply because they weren’t close. “The year before last,” Madam Zhang continued, “Miss Yi and Miss Ning had a quarrel. It was nothing serious—just the sort of bickering young ladies often have—but the Countess of Changning refused to let it go. Madam Yi wasn’t one to back down either, and the two families ended up making quite a spectacle of themselves.”
The Zhang young madam, unsatisfied, leaned forward. “They say half the capital is waiting to see how the Marquis’s household apologizes. I doubt the Countess of Changning will let the matter rest so easily.”
Xin An’s expression remained calm. She set down her cup with quiet grace and said,
“My sister-in-law’s skill with the zither is remarkable, but her temper too frank. She failed to consider Miss Ning’s feelings and regretted it deeply afterward. My mother-in-law personally went to call on the Countess. I don’t know what was said, but afterward she visited the Wang residence, in rather good spirits—so I suppose their talk went well.”
“The Countess of Changning loves her daughter dearly; if she spoke harshly, it was out of motherly concern, and rightly so. As for Madame Tao accompanying my sister-in-law, it was simply that she felt it improper for my mother-in-law to apologize alone—it might appear insincere otherwise. So she joined her out of courtesy. There’s nothing so grave about it as Madam Zhang suggests.”
The Zhang young madam’s face stiffened, anger rising.
She already looked down upon Xin An for being of merchant birth—and now this young woman dared talk back so smoothly!
“Second Young Madam truly has a large heart,” she said with a thin smile. “You even rush to defend Tao Yiran now.”
Xin An met her gaze evenly. “I merely spoke the truth. It cannot be called a defense.”
Seeing them spar, Lin Yao smiled. “The temple’s tea is quite good. Xin sister, come with me to adjust your robe.”
Xin An obliged and the two left together. The Zhang young madam sniffed. “What is she putting on?”
“Who knows how pleased she feels inside. I don’t believe she’s entirely indifferent toward Tao Yiran.”
Han Wan’er poured more tea for her. “She’s a new bride—she won’t openly speak ill of her husband’s elder sister. Besides, from my few meetings with her I’ve found her tight-lipped; she’s not one to blab. Don’t expect juicy gossip from her.”
The Zhang young madam paused, then laughed and shook her head, taking a sip. “I must’ve been mistaken—this tea is truly excellent.”
They continued to sip slowly. After a moment, Lin Yao and Xin An walked along the lotus pond. Lin Yao said, “Madam Zhang is frank by nature. Within three months of marriage her husband already left with the troops; bored, she finds amusement in the capital’s gossip. Little sister, don’t take it to heart.”
“How could I?” Xin An answered. “The matter between my sister-in-law and I is not fit for public telling. Whatever transpires within the Marquis’s household should be handled discreetly once outside its gates.”
“Besides, Madam Zhang means no malice. With her husband absent and no children about her, she must find diversions to pass the days.”
Indeed, the Zhang young madam was known for both prying and for speaking—famous for a long tongue.
Lin Yao paused. “No wonder Tang Mo found you so admirable.”
Xin An smiled and watched the large fish in the pond gather—curious. Lin Yao explained they were often released by devotees; once a year the temple dredged them up and sent them downriver to be freed, an act of accruing merit.
“By the way, would you be interested in donating to help the poor?” Lin Yao asked, and here lay the true purpose of her invitation.
“Our Xin family are merchants; we understand how abundance sows shortage. In Huai Jiang we never lag behind in charitable acts. If there is a place in need, Sister Lin, tell me plainly. If I can help, I will.”
Xin An felt a little nervous. She guessed Lin Yao would bring up the Qianjin Hall. The Qianjin Hall trained physicians: many city doctors came from there. Each month the Hall held free clinics—treating common illnesses without charge and distributing medicines. Beggars and children under the care of orphanages often received aid there; the Hall enjoyed a sterling reputation among the poor.
And the one who oversaw the Qianjin Hall was the Empress. Participation in its charitable works fell to noble ladies; Xin An had hoped in her previous life to earn such women’s favor through donations—perhaps even to catch the Empress’s notice—but her efforts had failed, thwarted by Lin Yao and her circle.
Lin Yao’s father was indeed a general, but her mother maintained a close friendship with the Empress, giving Lin Yao influence within the Qianjin Hall. In former days, because those ladies disliked Xin An, they had blocked her at every turn.
True to form, Lin Yao spoke of the Qianjin Hall and explained its workings. Then she said, “Training a single physician means more lives saved—a noble cause. Yet though the free clinics are admirable, the need for medicinal herbs is immense. They are often in short supply, and expensive when bought. Do you by any chance have connections for sourcing herbs?”
Xin An thought of Uncle Bai—he managed the Xin family’s stores of medicines. Each year a vast amount of herbs was consumed; to supply his masterful concoctions the family worked with several herb merchants.
“If it’s common herbs, it’s easy to arrange. Are there any rare materials needed?”
“No, not rare ones—mostly common herbs. If you have a line, I can give you a list later. Would that be agreeable?”