Page 30 of Silk and Sensibility

“The Mongols want goods like silk while we want more quality horses. No one likes fighting for fighting’s sake. If the emperor were more willing to open markets on the border, then both sides could benefit from trade.”

Meilin’s eyes widened. Not only had this man completely misunderstood her, but he had also criticized the emperor. Regardless of how he felt about the state of the nation, he should be more cautious about voicing opinions that could lose him his head. “That seems a little treasonous to say out loud.”

“You’re not going to report me, are you?”

“Of course not,” Meilin replied before she could think.

When the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, she almost laughed in disbelief. What did he mean by that? No one should be able to smile when discussing something as dangerous as treason.

Meilin went to bed thinking about Captain Bai even though he was not the kind of man she expected to capture her imagination. She had never met a military officer before. Even in The Romance of the Western Chamber, which she had read multiple times, the general who saved Yīngyīng from bandits was barely a memorable side character. Meilin didn’t like the contradictions in Captain Bai’s personality. Though clearly intelligent, he had an unromantic view of the world and was also occasionally shocking. He was so different from Master Wei, who was unambiguously charming.

Meilin sighed as she drifted to sleep. She had gone to dinner with high hopes, thinking that the Jiang family’s habit of inviting outsiders to dinner would be an interesting way to meet new people. Now she could see why eating only with a few close family members was the preferred way of dining at home. She missed Nuolan Garden.

The next morning, Meilin found herself with little to do. Right after their shared morning meal of red broth noodles, Ming­ming left with Begonia to find Lucky and Jade, who had invited her for lessons with their private tutor. Ming­ming was excited to study with people who were not her family, and while Meilin was gratified that the Jiangs, despite being merchants, were cultured enough to hire a tutor, with Ming­ming’s education taken care of by outsiders, she wondered what role she could play in their new home.

The question plagued her like a mosquito bite as she spent the rest of the morning helping Ailin and Mama unpack their belongings. They had organized about half of Mama’s room when a servant announced that Grand­mother Jiang and Aunt Meng would be visiting.

Meilin groaned. It would be rude for her not to receive them along with the rest of the adults in her family, but she dreaded dealing with Grand­mother Jiang again. Who knew what un­comfortable conversation topic the old lady might bring up this time?

Meilin reluctantly shuffled into the garden with Ailin and Mama, wordlessly taking a seat at the edge of the circle of chairs that Grand­mother Jiang’s maids had set up. As the servants peeled golden mandarins for the ladies, Grand­mother Jiang made small talk with Mama. Aunt Meng and Ailin remained quiet, so Meilin did not speak either.

After the small talk was exhausted, Grand­mother Jiang picked up a piece of mandarin. She chewed it deliberately before returning to her favorite topic. “Now that you’ve had a night to settle in, what are your plans for your girls going forward? If you want them married, I suggest you let me know. Now that they live in my house, I feel as responsible for them as if they were my own granddaughters.”

“You are too kind, Auntie Jiang,” Mama said politely, adopting the familial term of respect for the old lady.

“You said your eldest daughter already has marriage plans, but what about your second eldest?” Grand­mother Jiang asked. “Could she be interested in either Master Wei or Captain Bai?”

“Ma’am, please. I barely know the gentlemen.” Meilin blurted the words so loudly that she reddened, embarrassed to be the center of attention.

Grand­mother Jiang smiled, amused by her reaction. “I’d be happy to tell you more about them, little one. It’s never too early to arm oneself with information, is it? One wants to move forward with both eyes open.”

Meilin frowned. She wouldn’t mind learning more about Master Wei, but she despised the way Grand­mother Jiang talked about relationships as if they were trifles. Why was the old lady such a busybody anyway? Shouldn’t she be more focused on her own business and grandchildren rather than butting her head into matters where her “help” was not wanted? Meilin had never felt the desire to marry out more than at that moment if it meant an escape from Grand­mother Jiang.

“Wei Luobi is a clever and handsome young gentleman. I’ve heard he’s a brilliant writer even though he’s not making much of a living from his plays yet. Thankfully, he is set to inherit a vast fortune from his Uncle Su, as long as the old man has no sons of his own.”

Meilin ignored the rest of Grand­mother Jiang’s babbling about the Su clan’s large business interests and land holdings between Suzhou and Hangzhou. She wanted no part in such mercantile talk. When she married, she wanted it to be for ideals. Whether Master Wei was wealthy would not change the way she felt about his character. She was attracted to his chivalry and his talent, not his purse.

Grand­mother Jiang selected another mandarin from the plate held out by her maid. “Captain Bai Yun might be a more dependable choice. He was born in the Year of the Ox and acts like it too. Though most soldiers don’t make much money, Bai Yun has worked his way up steadily through his bravery in battle. He’s cautious in finances, though. He puts everything he can away for him and little Sandy. He treats her well for an illegitimate daughter.”

Aunt Meng piped up uncharacteristically. “Mother, let’s not gossip.”

“It’s nothing to make a fuss about, Chunwan,” Grand­mother Jiang said. She popped a piece of mandarin into her mouth. “Plenty of men have relationships outside of marriage. As long as they take care of their offspring, isn’t that enough?”

Meilin clenched her fists to hold in her anger. It was true that many men kept concubines and mistresses, but her father never did. He only met and married Mama after Junyou’s mother passed away. Meilin was sure Father would be fuming from the afterlife if she or her sisters ever settled for a husband who wasn’t true to them.

Mama cleared her throat awkwardly. “I beg your pardon, Auntie Jiang, but I thought Sandy was Captain Bai’s niece?”

Grand­mother Jiang leaned closer to Mama. “I’m pretty sure that’s a polite ruse he tells so people don’t mistreat Sandy—not that we would. But Sandy can’t really be his niece. You see, when we first met them a few years ago, Sandy was already several months old. We thought she was the daughter of the captain’s late older brother and sister-in-law, and we agreed to help take care of her for as long as he was stationed in Suzhou. Jiehan later found out, however, that Bai Yun’s only older brother passed away more than two years before Sandy came to us, so he couldn’t possibly have been her father.”

“Oh my!” Mama was easily moved by the plight of parentless children. “Captain Bai sounds like he has quite a complicated past.”

Grand­mother Jiang nodded. “But whatever happened is firmly in the past. He is a most devoted guardian to Sandy, better than many fathers-in-name, so you can rest assured that he is a responsible man. He’s disciplined too. He never gambles, and I’ve never smelled a trace of wine on him, ever.”

Despite Grand­mother Jiang’s continued praises for Captain Bai, Meilin remained in shock that he’d lied about Sandy’s parentage. She loathed dishonesty in all forms. If a man could lie once, he could lie ten thousand times. She would never feel comfortable with such a man.

And I haven’t, she reminded herself proudly. Even last night, when she had been fascinated by his stories of serving throughout the empire, she had also been discomfited by his contrary opinions. Her instincts had warned her that he was not to be trusted.

Ailin nudged Meilin’s arm, and she cocked her head in confusion.