DBB – Chapter 2: The Past
The northern wind howled, sending fine snowflakes swirling through the air. Frost had formed on the blue bricks, and in the courtyard, two elderly women in blue cotton robes were spreading out mats to collect the accumulated snow.
Seeing Baiyun return, the slightly plump woman among them paused her work, looked up, and smiled. “Young Lady, you’re back! The snow is coming down so heavily—you must have had a hard time going out in this weather.”
Baiyun was a second-rank maid, so these lower-ranked servants had to treat her with care. She felt a sense of superiority but responded modestly, “Miss sent me on an errand; it wasn’t a big deal. What are you collecting the snow for?”
Madam Li quickly replied, “It was Miss’s order. She asked us to collect as much snow water as possible and store it in earthen jars for later use…”
Baiyun’s voice unconsciously softened. “Miss is awake?”
Madam Li nodded. “She woke up not long ago. She’s sitting by the window reading a book.”
Baiyun immediately straightened her posture and walked toward the room with a more serious expression. She rubbed her hands together for warmth, watching her breath turn white in the cold air. Lifting the curtain, she stepped inside, instantly feeling enveloped in comforting warmth.
A brazier burned with glowing charcoal. To the right of the door stood an elegant folding screen, inlaid with white jade and emerald, depicting a magnificent scene of a hundred birds among embroidered clouds. A cloisonné vase with winding lotus patterns sat beside it, holding a few half-bloomed plum blossoms.
On the heated brick bed by the window, a small chicken-wing wood table was set with an auspicious beast-shaped incense burner. Jinchao was reclining against a large cushion embroidered with golden swirling clouds. A book rested in her hands, her elbow propped against the bed’s edge. She wore a thick, fur-lined sable cloak, her jet-black hair cascading loosely over the dark blue satin fabric. She looked utterly relaxed. Beside her, Caifu stood quietly, waiting on her.
Seeing Baiyun enter, Jinchao slowly raised her head. “Did you inquire about it?”
Baiyun nodded and took a step closer, lowering her voice. “The kitchen steward, Zhou, told me that Qingpu was taken by the Second Miss two years ago. She’s probably working in her small kitchen now. Miss, why do you suddenly ask about her? Wasn’t she punished back then for stealing your gold-inlaid jade hairpin and sent to the kitchen?”
Jinchao cast a cool glance at her before lowering her head again to continue reading. “Do I need your opinion on my affairs? You’re becoming quite unruly. Go help Madam Li and Madam Chang collect the snow.”
Baiyun’s heart clenched. She realized she had spoken out of turn—Miss’s decisions were not hers to question.
A flicker of unease crossed her face. The snow outside was heavy, and the bitter cold would certainly cause her delicate hands to chap, but she dared not disobey. Lowering her head, she quietly replied, “Yes, Miss,” before retreating from the room.
Jinchao then turned to Caifu, who had remained silent all this time. “Where is Liuxiang? I haven’t seen her.”
Caifu answered, “Didn’t you send her to deliver a box of pine-nut glutinous rice candy to the Fourth Miss? With the snow so heavy and the roads slippery, she’s probably been delayed. Miss, you’ve only just recovered—you shouldn’t sit by the window for too long. It’s still cold. You should go back to bed and rest.”
Jin Chao waved her hand dismissively, “Go and empty that incense burner. Unless absolutely necessary, do not burn incense in this room.”
The scent was overwhelmingly sweet and cloying—it made her feel lightheaded.
Obeying the order, Caifu took the incense burner and went out to dump the ash. Once she had drawn aside the curtain and stepped out, Jin Chao put down her book and surveyed the furnishings in her chamber. Nearby stood an intricately carved redwood “thousand-work” bed featuring motifs of magnolias, qilins, and swirling clouds; silk curtains adorned with winding lotus patterns hung at its left side. Beyond four panels of a wooden screen was visible a table made of golden nanmu, and by the window were two red lacquered chairs. On a tall table nearby sat a potted evergreen pine bonsai.
Jin Chao closed her eyes.
Last night, when she awoke, she had seen these very opulent surroundings—yet even now she had not grown accustomed to them. Last night, when she had woken up, she had seen the same extravagant surroundings. Yet, she still hadn’t fully adjusted to it. Not because the setting was unfamiliar—on the contrary, it was the most familiar place to her. This was Qingtong Courtyard, the residence she had lived in before marriage at the Gu family estate. However, during her severe illness, this courtyard had been given away by her father to a newly favored concubine.
As for the maid Baiyun, shortly after Jin Chao married into the Chen family she had been reprimanded and dismissed by the old matriarch for a slip of the tongue. And Caifu had never accompanied her to the Chen household either. She had grown older and was eventually given as a concubine to a Gu family steward.
Yet now, everything before her eyes remained intact, untouched.
Jinchao read for a while longer but soon felt drowsy. Before Caifu could return, she steadied herself on the nearby tall table, slipped into her silk shoes, and stood up.
Caifu mentioned that she had caught a cold from the wind and had been ill for several days.
Jin Chao recalled that when she was fifteen, her mother had suffered a serious illness—and within half a year had passed away. While her mother was gravely ill, Jin Chao had heard that Chen Xuanqing, along with several other noble young masters, was set to attend a flower-viewing banquet at the Duke’s estate. Eagerly, she had hurriedly prepared herself in hopes of an encounter with him.
But the snowstorm that day had been too heavy, and the plum blossoms had not bloomed well. She and Liuxiang had waited for ages, yet Chen Xuanqing had never appeared. When she returned home, she had fallen ill, missing four or five days of attending to her mother.
Recalling this, Jinchao clenched her fists.
She had been so foolish—while her mother was gravely ill, all she could think about was meeting her beloved. Little did she know that in just a few months, her mother would pass away.
Seated before her dressing mirror, Jin Chao gazed in confusion at the young girl reflected within. This mirror had been brought back from Jiangsu by her third uncle—a piece exquisitely carved with peonies and mythical beasts—and had been gifted to her by her maternal grandmother.
In the mirror, the girl’s jet-black hair flowed down to her waist; her face was as fair and flawless as jade; her eyes, like glistening autumn pools, shimmered with life; and her lips were as tender as fresh peach blossoms.
There are many kinds of beauty—some as delicate as willow branches, others as noble as orchids—but Gu Jinchao’s beauty was that of a begonia: dazzling and bewitching.
Yet for all its loveliness, it appeared as if she were nothing more than a decorative vase.
Although Jin Chao had once attended lavish feasts with her grandmother and read introductory texts (even the Four Books were part of her studies), her education far exceeded that of most noblewomen. Still, she never appeared particularly clever—her brilliance was overshadowed by her striking beauty.
As a young girl, Jin Chao had treasured her looks; but as time went by she grew increasingly tired of them. She came to resent her own flamboyant nature—to the point that she wished she could sit unnoticed in a corner, so as not to draw attention.
Gazing at her face in the mirror, Gu Jinchao felt deep puzzlement. Why had she returned to the Gu household? Why was she once again transformed into her fifteen- or sixteen-year-old self?
Could it all be nothing more than a dream? And when she awoke, would she still be that Third Madam in the Chen household, waiting for death?
She had been awake for two days now, yet during this time she drifted in a haze, lacking any real spirit. It was as though voices whispered in her ear—but their words were indistinct. Only earlier that day had she managed to force herself to speak with Caifu and the others, learning that she had been ill for several days. Everything around her felt so real, so vivid—it hardly seemed like a dream.
Or perhaps the heavens, moved by her lifelong suffering, intended for her to return just a little longer?
Deeply moved, Jin Chao walked over to the long huanghuali table on which a Guanyin statue was enshrined. Kneeling on a prayer cushion embroidered with golden swirls, she prayed earnestly,
“If the Bodhisattva truly pities me, please grant me more time… at least enough to see my mother and my younger brother again…”
Her room had never before contained such an object. With her mother’s long illness showing no signs of improvement, Jin Chao had become desperate and set up an altar to Guanyin in her room, praying morning and night for her mother’s recovery. Whenever she found a spare moment, she would even copy Buddhist scriptures by hand and burn them as an offering.
Soon after, Caifu re-entered carrying the incense burner. Noticing that Miss was about to rise from her kneeling position before the statue, Caifu hurried over to help her up.
Jin Chao glanced at her—her hair and shoulders were dusted with snow, a sign she had likely stood outside for quite some time. Yet how could the incense ash have remained outdoors in the cold for so long?
“Is the incense ash all emptied?” Caifu replied, “It’s been emptied into the holly planter. They say the incense ash nourishes the flowers.”
Through the wooden screen, Jin Chao could see Baiyun standing in the snow, with heavy snowfall still ongoing and the two elderly women busy gathering the mats. She chose not to mention it—Baiyun was known for her gossipy nature. Although she had once been doted on by Jin Chao, in the Chen household Baiyun’s loose tongue had nearly caused great trouble, almost implicating her mistress. Such a temperament indeed needed to be kept in check.
Caifu then draped a mink fur shawl over Miss’s shoulders. Hearing a soft inquiry, “What did she say about me?” Caifu’s hand tightened as she noted Miss’s calm, almost icy expression. Not quite understanding why a chill ran through her own heart, she quickly smiled and said, “Miss, you’re overthinking it. I was merely discussing with Sister Baiyun how best to store the snow water.”
Jin Chao responded with a quiet hum, “Then tell me—how should it be stored?”
Caifu explained, “Seal it in a jar—ideally place it underground, or at least in a cool, shaded spot among the plants. Otherwise, the snow water will lose its spiritual essence and become ineffective.”
Jin Chao looked steadily at Caifu. This maid was much smarter than Baiyun—how had she never noticed it before?
In her heart, she knew that in the past she had acted rashly and impulsively, often scolding and punishing her maids at the slightest displeasure. Few among them had ever shown true, unwavering loyalty. More often, they feared that if she suddenly took her anger out on them, she would beat them nearly to death.
Wasn’t Qingpu like that? After all, she was the chief maid Miss had brought from her grandmother Ji’s household. Yet she had once dared to defy Miss on the matter of Chen Xuanqing, and because Miss disliked her, she was sent to the inner courtyard kitchen for miscellaneous tasks.
Jin Chao decided not to press the matter further. Running her fingers along the strap of her cloak, she noticed how her long, fair hands were so delicate and slender. “Help me change. We’re going to see Mother.” Jin Chao ordered Caifu.
She wondered how her mother was now. Even though her mother had been ill for so many days, she had not been visited—and besides, Jin Chao still longed to see Song Concubine. At the very thought of her, Jin Chao’s heart tightened. If it weren’t for Concubine Song, neither she nor her mother would have fallen to such a wretched state later on.