Page 41 of Silk and Sensibility

Today I learned the Master Huang I’m tutoring is none other than the man who once asked your brother to propose to you on his behalf. He spoke of you and how he still wishes you would change your mind. He imagines that your beauty and talent have only grown since he last asked for your hand. I didn’t say anything. I know I had no right to feel jealous, but I was.

—Unsent letter from Fan Enze to Duan Ailin

Chapter 16

Meilin

The upheaval that began with Father’s death was not completely settled, even as the Year of the Tiger reached its tail. So many aspects of life Meilin used to take for granted were gone. Her beloved older sister, the friend who had been a constant in her life as long as she could remember, had grown distant. Ailin was like Cháng’é the moon goddess, drifting away from the mortal realm.

For months, it seemed that Ailin was either painting by herself or spending time with Madame Pang and Shen Lusi. Meilin couldn’t understand why her sister preferred the company of her rival over her own. One of the things Meilin looked forward to most in the coming Year of the Rabbit was Shen Lusi returning to Hangzhou with the Pangs.

But even that prospect did not come untainted. Shen Lusi had amassed a considerable dowry in the past few months, bringing her one step closer to stealing Enze from Ailin. Meanwhile, Ailin had done nothing to strengthen her position besides painting a few commissions for Aunt Meng, Madame Pang, and Grand­mother Jiang. In the past, Meilin would not have cared so much about dowries, but the idea of Ailin losing, simply because she was too proud to compete, ate at her like a heartworm.

Meilin tried to help her sister the best way she knew how—by actively modeling the way she believed Ailin ought to act. She was honest about her feelings on all occasions: She didn’t waste time with people she didn’t like, and she didn’t hide her emotions with people she did like, especially at group gatherings.

The weather remained cold as the time for New Year celebrations approached, but golden forsythia bloomed throughout Batong Mansion’s gardens, providing a seasonally appropriate backdrop for the upcoming spring festivities.

The Jiang family’s New Year’s Eve dinner was a grand feast with all the extended family in attendance, along with Master Wei, Captain Bai, and Sandy. Conversation about plans for the two-week holiday season was lively. When Madame Pang proposed a trip to the historic Hanshan Temple for the next day, Meilin glanced at Master Wei, who was sitting a few seats down from her. He smiled back, and her stomach fluttered. Visiting Hanshan Temple with Master Wei would be a pure dream. Poets had been writing about the famous temple for hundreds of years, as far back as the Tang dynasty.

月落烏啼霜滿天，江楓漁火對愁眠。

姑蘇城外寒山寺，夜半鐘聲到客船。

Crows sing to a frosty sky at moonset,

As I sleep among river maples and fishing fires.

Outside the city sits Hanshan Temple.

At midnight, its bell tolls, reaching the guest boats.

She could imagine no more romantic way to welcome the new year than walking through the temple grounds with someone who made the world feel like spring.

Surprisingly, Aunt Meng—the most devout believer of Buddhism in the house—expressed hesitation. “I always welcome more chances to pray, but will a trip to the temple be safe? The Wōkòu seem to have retreated now that it’s cold, but with Xiatian’s delicate condition . . .”

Madame Pang, who had recently announced her much hoped-for pregnancy, set down the New Year rice cake she had picked up. “No need to worry about me, Chunwan. Offering incense on the first day of the year is a fine tradition. Since Tai and I are traveling back to Hangzhou next week, what’s a day trip to Hanshan Temple by comparison?”

Master Pang looked worried despite his wife’s reassurance. “With the holiday crowds, though, is the trek to the temple worth it?”

Grand­mother Jiang leaned forward. “I believe Captain Bai has leave from military duties until the Lantern Festival. He could easily escort a party of pilgrims.” She turned to the captain. “What do you say, Bai Yun? With you in charge, surely everyone will feel safe.”

Captain Bai furrowed his brows as he finished scooping a bowl of eight-treasure rice for Sandy. “I would be willing to go, but I’m worried about the children,” he replied. “Their nursemaids have all gone home for the holidays.”

Meilin wondered if perhaps he secretly didn’t want to come on the trip. Since the day she played her zither for him and Sandy, she had begun giving Sandy regular zither lessons. In the process, she’d grown more comfortable with Captain Bai, and she realized she genuinely wanted him as a guardian to the temple. Despite Grand­mother Jiang’s occasional teasing that Meilin should consider him a potential suitor, she no longer worried that Captain Bai would pursue her romantically. Lately he had been behaving like a gentleman, talking to her only about music and Sandy’s education, nothing unpleasant like in the early days of their acquaintance.

“I have a simple solution,” Grand­mother Jiang said with a clap of her hands. “Madame Duan and I will stay home with the younger children. Lucky, Jade, and Ming­ming can help, so you won’t have to worry about Sandy at all. You deserve to go on an outing as much as the other young people.”

Nobody was paying attention to Meilin, but she nodded anyway. If Captain Bai agreed to come, the trip was as good as guaranteed.

When the captain finally relented, the matter seemed settled. Meilin glanced at Master Wei’s twinkling eyes and allowed her excitement to grow.

Bad news came on the morning of the trip.

As Begonia combed Meilin’s hair, Ming­ming burst into the room, her face flushed from running. “Have you heard that Captain Bai can’t go to Hanshan Temple anymore?”

“No. Why?” Meilin was immediately worried. Captain Bai had never backed out of his promises for as long as she had known him.

“Sandy was up all night with an upset stomach, and he won’t leave her until she’s back to health.”