Page 57 of Silk and Sensibility

As Ailin followed Madame Zhou, Meilin trailed behind, catching Madame Cai’s whispers to Grand­mother Jiang. “It was a good idea to talk to Madame Zhou first. Madame Qiu is Prefect Yao’s favorite concubine. She is said to be very reserved, but she is the best-known trendsetter in Hangzhou. If she likes Ailin’s art, all of society will.”

Meilin smiled at the two older women’s boldly mercantile ways. No wonder they had managed to increase their family’s fortunes after the death of Old Master Jiang. In Ailin’s case, their strategic planning seemed to be working.

Meilin felt herself breathing easier as she ascended the stairs. The thinner crowd and greater air circulation on the upper deck of the boat helped her feel less sick. Her mood improved even more when she saw Ailin on the far side of the deck, being introduced by Madame Zhou to an elegant woman who had to be Madame Qiu. Not only did the woman have a beautiful face, but she also sat with an air of calm confidence, looking every bit like someone worth knowing.

Meilin passed a chatty and self-enclosed group as she approached her sister.

Madame Qiu was already speaking with Ailin. “You are the lady painter from Nanjing, aren’t you? The daughter of the late Scholar Duan. I think I have one of your works in my collection—a picture of a magpie in a persimmon tree.”

Meilin beamed on Ailin’s behalf. She knew the exact painting Madame Qiu was describing; Ailin had sold it to Uncle Chen right before they left Nuolan Garden. How gratifying it was to witness her sister’s talent being recognized in public! At least some of Ailin’s efforts over the past year were paying off. If only Enze and Shen Lusi could see this too.

“I would love to have you join me for tea at the Prefect’s Residence sometime,” Madame Qiu said.

Ailin curtsied. “I would be honored.”

A few women from the group that Meilin passed earlier perked their heads up at Ailin and Madame Qiu’s conversation. Some began moving toward them like a flock of birds.

“We’ve heard that your father was a Great Scholar at the Han­lin Academy,” one of the ladies said to Ailin. “Are you really as talented as everyone says, Miss Duan?”

Some began clamoring for a live painting demonstration, and servants were called to set up a table. Ailin acquiesced, and Meilin stepped in, quickly retrieving the supplies from Ailin’s bag and organizing them on the table. As Ailin secured her paper with paperweights, Meilin moved to make ink. She noticed with dismay that the inkstone Ailin had packed was a smooth rectangle. When had Ailin stopped using the rough apricot blossom inkstone from Enze?

“You should paint our Miss Gao,” one lady said, motioning toward a richly dressed woman.

“It would be our Ailin’s honor to paint Miss Gao,” Madame Cai said in an obsequious manner. Miss Gao’s imperious aura signaled that she was most eminent among the small group.

Meilin tucked the information away as she filled the inkstone with water. The chatter on the boat began again as she ground the inkstick into the inkwell.

“What is taking so long?” Miss Gao asked impatiently, her tone grating.

Meilin tried not to show her annoyance. She was serving as Ailin’s assistant, so she couldn’t let her feelings affect Ailin’s work. The boat’s motion and the incessant chatter on deck was probably already enough of a distraction.

Despite the noise, Ailin dipped her brush into the fresh ink and began painting with self-possession.

One of Miss Gao’s companions giggled. “If the portrait is any good, your betrothed will demand to see it, my lady.”

“I’d wager he’s already going mad in anticipation of your wedding,” another woman said. “I’m sure he wants to fill his chamber with pictures of you.”

Meilin wondered how much of that was true. Miss Gao was well-dressed in a fur-lined pīfēng that revealed gold-embroidered gowns underneath, but she seemed too proud to be pleasant and too smug to be pretty.

“You’re all so silly,” Miss Gao said as she picked a nonexistent piece of lint off her clothes. “My betrothed is too busy to think only of me. He has important artistic matters to take care of. His next play is going to premiere as soon as we are married. After the premiere, I hope you will all come to support The Romance of the Zither.”

Meilin nearly lost her balance. How unnerving! The play written by Miss Gao’s betrothed had the same title as the one Meilin had proposed for Master Wei’s latest work.

“What is the name of the writer?” she asked, wondering who might be stealing Master Wei’s ideas.

Miss Gao glared at her as if she was interrupting instead of merely asking a question. “And who are you?”

Madame Cai fluttered into the conversation with the grace of a butterfly, hovering over Meilin in a motherly way. “This is Miss Duan Meilin, a relative of our family visiting from Suzhou.”

Miss Gao’s glance toward Madame Cai was as dismissive as her words. “So she’s from your family. I should have known.”

Meilin looked between Ailin and Grand­mother Jiang. Were they going to stand by while Miss Gao behaved so rudely? What gave her the right to treat their family this way?

One of Miss Gao’s companions laughed, her voice high and tinkly. “Such ignorance is to be expected from a wàidìrén. Everyone in Hangzhou knows about the handsome heir of the Su family and his pen name, Wei Luobi.”

The boat tipped at the mention of Master Wei’s name. Or perhaps it was only in Meilin’s imagination. No. The dizziness behind her eyes was real.

She felt herself falling.