Page 28 of Silk and Sensibility

Grand­mother Jiang turned her bright eyes to Ailin. “You already have a first love, my dear? You seemed so prim and proper that I wouldn’t have expected it. How romantic! Please tell me all about him. Perhaps I can help.”

Every part of Ailin—her face, neck, ears—felt like it was burning. Now was the worst possible time for her body to betray her emotions.

A soft hand squeezed hers.

Meilin stood up, the squeak of her chair against the floor drawing everyone’s attention.

“I want to play a song on my zither,” Meilin announced abruptly. “To thank you all for your kindness to my family.”

Before anyone could say anything, Meilin asked a servant to bring a low table and stool into the garden adjoining the dining room. Begonia, who was attending close by, scurried to Meilin’s room to fetch her zither while Meilin fielded questions about her intended performance. Her poise and grace surprised Ailin. Meilin never performed for strangers because she doubted their ability to understand her music. Playing right now meant breaking her established standards.

When Meilin’s zither was positioned satisfactorily on the low table in the garden outside, she began to play. Notes rang clearly in the air. Chords came alive under her fingers.

Though she was focused on her music, Meilin glanced once at Ailin during her song, and their eyes met. As “Three Stanzas on Plum Blossoms” filled the hall, Ailin absorbed Meilin’s message: Like the plum blossoms that bloom in the depths of winter, be strong.

我住長江頭，君住長江尾。

日日思君不見君，共飲長江水。

此水幾時休，此恨何時已。

只願君心似我心，定不負相思意。

At this end of the river,

I think of you every day.

Though I can’t see you,

we drink the same water.

The river flows continuously, like my longing for you,

But if your heart matches my own, my love will not be in vain.

—Poem by Lǐ Zhīyí, Song dynasty, transcribed by Fan Enze

Chapter 10

Meilin

When Meilin played the zither, she didn’t see the polished paulownia wood of her soundboard nor the mother-of-pearl huī dots meant to guide her hands. Rather, she saw visions. Today, she saw a memory from her childhood—a sunny courtyard covered in snow.

It was too cold to play outside, and Mama warned Meilin that her fingers would freeze, but she didn’t listen and set up her zither in the garden anyway. Gray had blanketed the sky for a week, but today, yellow rays of light pierced the clouds. The first plum blossoms of the season were blooming, and she wanted to be there with her music. She wanted to breathe in the flowers’ subtle, sweet scent before another snowfall buried them again.

When Meilin finished her song, Father had brought her a fur-lined coat. He draped the coat over her shoulders as he praised the passion in her playing. For the first time, he spoke to her not in the voice he used when Ming­ming “won” at wéiqí against him, but in the voice he used when evaluating Ailin’s paintings, the impartial tone signaling his opinion as a scholar rather than a parent. The pride that sprang up in Meilin’s chest warmed her more than the fur coat.

As the last note of “Three Stanzas on Plum Blossoms” faded into the air, Meilin remembered that she was not in the Nuolan Garden of her youth, but in a courtyard of Batong Mansion. She had put on the impromptu performance so Grand­mother Jiang would stop needling Ailin about her marriage plans.

Meilin had been annoyed when the old lady teased her about Master Wei, so she could easily imagine how mortified Ailin must have been to be teased as well. Grand­mother Jiang’s teasing of betrothals and wedding wine bordered on sarcasm, like love was a joke rather than the bond of a lifetime. Meilin would do anything to protect Ailin from further mockery.

Meilin looked into the dining room and saw that her plan worked. Her zither playing had broken up the focus on Ailin and become background music for eating, drinking, and chatting. No one looked at Ailin, or Meilin either.

Except for Sandy. The little girl was staring at Meilin. When Meilin cocked her head in confusion, Sandy leaped out of her chair and ran with outstretched arms toward her.

Past her. Meilin spun in her seat to follow the little girl with her eyes.

“Uncle!” Sandy squealed in delight as a muscular man scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather.