Page 12 of Silk and Sensibility

Through conversations with her mother, who talked to Fan Enze whenever Heli brought him to visit, Ailin had learned that though the Fan family had been prosperous in Fan Enze’s youth, he had hardly been with them enough to enjoy the luxuries of a merchant house. After age seven, he had basically lived at a school in Suzhou rather than with his birth family. Begonia did not know that, however, and Ailin did not think it was information that Enze would like to be shared with most household members. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who enjoyed others’ pity nor actively sought their praise.

“Yī shì tóng rén. A truly noble man sees everyone as equals. Anything else?”

“They say that he is quite a diligent scholar. Apparently, whenever he isn’t with family, he’s holed up somewhere reading the classics. What do you think of his chances of passing the provincial exam?”

“As good as any aspiring scholar’s, I suppose.”

Despite Ailin’s interest in Fan Enze’s background and personality for self-protective purposes, she had not spent enough time with him to assess his scholarly aptitude. Furthermore, she did not plan to. That would require too much intellectual intimacy. If anything, he was already on her mind too often for comfort. His umbrella still sat in the storage room like the fuse of a firecracker waiting to be ignited. A woman of her background shouldn’t be thinking so much about a man who was not her husband. Her family would arrange a match for her someday, and it was unlikely to be Fan Enze, judging by Fulan’s attitude. As things were, Ailin could not allow herself to develop an attachment to him.

Why did she think about him so often anyway? Because he had saved her from a painful walk in the rain? Because he hadn’t exposed her lie? Because everyone talked about him constantly? It didn’t make sense.

His looks were not noteworthy in any way that would create instant appeal. He was tall, but the way he carried himself betrayed an active desire to take up less space, as if he preferred melting into the background rather than being noticed. His face was not particularly distinctive to her painterly eye, except for the warmth of his smile . . .

Ailin grabbed her paintbrush as she willed her stray thoughts to focus. It was time to work, not to think about an irrelevant man’s smile.

Before she could set her brush to paper, however, she was distracted again, this time by the sight of Mother walking into the yard arm in arm with Meilin.

Begonia curtsied in greeting. “Good afternoon, Madame Duan, Miss Meilin.”

“It is a good afternoon, isn’t it?” After eating and sleeping more regularly for a few days, Mother looked healthier than she had in weeks. “Begonia, if you’re not too busy here, would you mind going with Meilin to sort her music manuals? She’s been wanting to learn some new songs on the zither.”

“Of course, Madame Duan.” Begonia excused herself and left with Meilin. The two leaned their heads close together conspiratorially as soon as they were past the moon gate, giggling as they walked. Ailin wondered what they were chatting about, but, as usual, Mother didn’t seem concerned.

“How is your painting, dear?” Mother asked as she sat on the bench next to Ailin.

“I’m still planning my pieces, but I’ll have something ready for Uncle Chen soon.” She had actually lost sleep while trying to think of painting subjects that could please patrons, but there was no point in telling Mother, who would only worry, not help. Even if Mother offered words of encouragement, such words rarely increased Ailin’s confidence. The key to success was to stop getting distracted and pull through with results. That was what mattered.

Mother’s hands were soft as she took Ailin’s free hand in hers. “You’re always so hardworking. I wish you could relax sometimes.”

Ailin pulled her hand back. Relaxing would not pay back Uncle Chen or strengthen her mother and sisters’ position in the newly restructured Duan household. “I’m all right, Mother. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about?”

Mother looked toward the pavilion overlooking the koi pond. “Heli and Enze came to visit me this morning, and they played a round of wéiqí against Ming­ming. They lost by less than a handful of points, so I think the boy has potential.”

“Which one?” Ming­ming was a wéiqí prodigy only Father could beat. To lose to her by less than five points was a commendable feat.

“Both. Heli is learning well for his age, but I think Enze could be a great scholar if he had a little more help.”

“Hmm.” Ailin did not understand why her mother was bringing this up. Wasn’t Fan Enze staying at Nuolan Garden so Junyou could help him with his scholarly pursuits? After all, Junyou was a well-rounded gentleman who had passed the highest level of the imperial civil service exams before the age of thirty.

“When your father used to tutor you one-on-one, he said you had a talent for learning the classics.”

The mention of past praise from Father filled Ailin with bittersweet remembrance. She had to stanch her feelings before they flowed out of control. Today was not a day for crying.

“Memorization isn’t a special skill. Meilin and Ming­ming could do it too if they applied themselves.”

“Your father mentioned that you were the most academically inclined of his daughters. He sometimes wished you had been born a boy.”

Being a boy certainly would have made some aspects of life easier. If Ailin could sit for the imperial exams, she would have had more opportunities to provide for her mother and sisters. But being a second son would also have come with challenges, like having to compete with Junyou for recognition.

Ailin wrinkled her nose. “I like being a girl.”

Mother sighed. “What I meant is that I wish you could use your talents to help Enze. He’s a good boy with a good heart, but he doesn’t have much support. Do you remember your father giving you any special advice on studying? Do you think you could use what you learned from your father to help Enze?”

How attached had Mother grown to Fan Enze in the past week to ask this of her? Mother had an affectionate heart, and she tended to open it too easily.

“Why would I help him?” Ailin asked, confused.

Mother raised her brows.