Chapter 10

“What manner of man?” I cut in softly.

“A wastrel, one without a drop of ink—that is but the me that you see.”

“You and Elder Sister are alike, both looking down from on high.”

He started.

“I do not mean you…”

The young man was somewhat dazed; his composure broke, like a jade mountain about to fall.

“Were we not a match? Before that matter, all said we were as paired wings, our love the envy of all.”

“If you would break the engagement with him—”

Just then the sky darkened; on the far shore of the lake, someone lit a lamp.

The lamplight swayed dim upon the water; the past was like a dream, and he bore a trace of longing.

I gripped the ornament; my hand ached where it pressed.

“Had it not been for Elder Sister’s letters, you would never have seen me, Xie Changyu.”

“I would,” he gazed at me, his voice husky, enunciating clearly, and said again, “I would.”

I stilled a moment and did not believe him.

“I am betrothed; have a care, young master.”

The night wind wrinkled the lake; lotus leaves swayed.

Sheng Yi, not finding me, turned back.

He had met Xie Changyu several times; they had parted unhappily before, and now he shielded me behind him, his face cooling.

“Young Master Xie prides himself a man of honor, yet does this—importuning my betrothed. Truly base.”

When had Xie Changyu ever been thus reviled? He knit his brows at once. “You—”

They came to blows.

I had no time to stop them before I saw Sheng Yi roll up his sleeves and strike Xie Changyu’s face with a fist.

The two wrestled together without a shred of grace.

Sheng Yi struck him, and found time to tell me, “I have the upper hand; no need to worry.”

After a moment, having taken a hit from Xie Changyu, he also said, “He struck back, so it does not count as my beating him; no need to worry.”

I: “…”

Each had his own convenient account.

When they finished, both were somewhat hurt; a thread of blood showed at Sheng Yi’s brow.

The light was too dim.

I leaned in to look. He bent very cooperatively, lowering his face toward my palm, his lashes trembling faintly, somewhat wronged.

I wiped the blood clean with a handkerchief.

“Shall we go to the physician, please?”

When the hovering hand came down, he took it smoothly, and in the night, half-concealing it from view, overstepped with fingers interlaced.

“No matter; let us go.”

Behind us, someone staggered a few steps, near falling into the lake.

Laughed at himself once.

Like a dog bereft of home.

After that day, Mother began to prepare my wedding with Sheng Yi.

She sighed often.

“Sheng Yi is not a steady man, and even struck Xie Changyu.”

“Such a one—how can I trust you to him?”

I heard and only said faintly, “Does Mother care for these things too?”

“Was it not enough, once I left home to marry, to count it well?”

She started, somewhat abashed. “How could you think so…”

Before, I had depended on her much, coquettish at her knee every day.

Now, I scarce sought her.

Elder Sister felt guilty toward me.

Mother had prepared two dowries; the list for mine I had seen long ago, in the past life.

But in this life, the list held much more.

Mother sighed, “It is your sister’s love for you, yielding it to you.”

“Shops, houses, fields—all there. If the Sheng family treats you ill, you may leave at any time.”

“Your sister treats you so well, yet you will not speak with her. Now, let those old grievances pass, please?”

I did not lift my eyes. “No.”

They cannot pass.

This is not my first life; I was not so lucky as to avoid her trap, and once endured such suffering… Spilled water cannot be gathered; we cannot go back.

Elder Sister, behind the screen, hearing this, fell into long, choking sobs.

The seventh month, fire fled the sky; the weather turned cool.

When the capital’s leaves fell, I wed.

My aunt combed my hair and, seeing my calm, sighed. “Other new brides weep; Ah Ying, are you not sad?”

I laughed shortly. “What is there to be sad for?”

“Will you not miss Mother, miss your sister?”

The bridal music sounded; I knew Mother waited outside in full dress; the door stood open, and my answer was clear to hear.

I said softly, “No.”

“Leaving Mother, I am not sad.”

My aunt was struck dumb.

Mother entered and set my ornaments and collar right; she could not hide her loss, and her palm bore the marks of her nails.

Yet in the end she could say nothing.

This night was truly lively.

Clouds thin, the moon full.

The bridal music sounded again and again down the long street; some dead drunk, some sorrowful, some joyful.