Chapter 9

Harvesting wheat and planting rice made for a long busy season in the countryside, leaving the farming folk with little time for idle pursuits such as embroidery. Aunt Gui, too, had no reason to journey to the county seat. Gao Nuan had accumulated five or six pieces of embroidery, all of them fan faces. It was summer—the perfect time for fans—and only now could she hope to fetch a good price for her work. Once the busy season passed, so too would the dog days of summer.

She decided to take them to town herself and exchange them for money.

Shitou Township lay more than thirty li from Linshui County. Gao Zhao was concerned for his elder sister’s safety on the road and wanted to accompany her, but with their youngest brother at home, he could not be in two places at once.

Yu Shensi saw Gao Zhao’s worry. He also knew his own strength; a round trip of seventy li was more than he could manage, and during the harvest, there were no ox carts or donkey carts to borrow.

He spoke up of his own accord, “Sister, I’d like to go to the fields with Miao tomorrow. He said he’d treat me to mung bean soup and vegetable rice balls.”

Gao Nuan was somewhat relieved to hear her youngest brother say so, though she was still anxious. During the harvest, even one’s own children were hard to watch over, let alone someone else’s. There were several ditches and rivers by the fields, swollen with water at this time of year.

But there was no better option. She gave her youngest brother careful instructions about what he could and could not do, and made him repeat them back to her before she felt reassured.

That evening, when the fourth grandmother next door returned from the fields, Gao Nuan told her about it. The old woman always felt a debt of gratitude for Gao Zhao helping her grandson Miao learn to read and write, so she agreed readily.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Gao Nuan heard movement from the neighboring house. The fourth grandfather and his family were already pushing a cart out to the fields, hoping to do as much as possible before the sun grew hot. The fourth grandmother stayed home to prepare breakfast, which she would bring to them later.

Gao Nuan, too, wanted to leave early while it was still cool. She woke her youngest brother, still fast asleep, and delivered him to the neighbors. She also brought the two leftover preserved vegetable cakes from yesterday to the fourth grandmother.

The journey to town was over thirty li. The siblings walked and rested, arriving at the county seat by mid-morning.

They were relatively familiar with the town. Linshui County was small, much as it had been the year before. The two made their way to the Zhang family embroidery shop. Perhaps because of the heat, the shop was nearly empty. As soon as they stepped inside, an old, tall clerk spotted them.

“Miss Gao, Young Master Gao,” he greeted, hurrying out from behind the counter. Gao Nuan had been a frequent visitor; the clerks all knew her as the daughter of the Gao family. Now that Gao Mingjin had achieved first place in the imperial exams and was serving in the capital, this was common knowledge throughout the county. The clerk’s attitude was warmer than ever.

Gao Nuan stated her purpose directly and took the embroideries from her basket.

The old clerk paused, something odd flickering in his gaze. Clearly, he hadn’t expected the daughter of a top scholar to be selling her embroidery for money.

“Miss Gao, surely you jest?”

“Uncle, please take a look and tell me what they’re worth.”

The clerk saw that her manner was earnest, not joking. He turned the matter over in his mind. He knew that the scholar’s wife had died the previous year and that the family had given her a grand funeral. Rumor had it that, except for the second son, the other children had returned home to observe mourning.

Even with their mother gone, and observing mourning, they were still the children of a prominent family; surely they had enough to eat and wear, not to mention selling embroidery for money.

He guessed at several possibilities, but this was not a family he could afford to offend, so he dared not speak out of turn. Smiling, he picked up the embroidery. At a glance, he saw the truth: the style was much like the fan faces Aunt Gui had brought from Shitou Township some time before. And didn’t the Gao family’s old home stand in Shitou? He understood at once.

He beamed. “Miss Gao, you have skillful hands—such fine work! And the patterns are just what ladies love in summer. We’re old acquaintances; you’ve always brought business to our shop. I wouldn’t dream of cheating you. Though the quality of these pieces varies a bit, I’ll give you a round sum—six hundred cash.”

That was a hundred cash per piece, more than ten cash above what Aunt Gui had fetched.

Gao Nuan realized Aunt Gui would never have settled for just a single cash per piece as her fee. She was surprised at the woman’s appetite—a markup of over ten cash per piece, nearly thirty percent. Over the past half-year, that was several hundred cash, and with the other aunts, they’d earned a tidy sum over the year. Truly, those two legs were worth their weight in gold.

From the counter came a young woman’s voice, “This embroidered fan costs a hundred and fifty cash?”

Gao Nuan looked over. The fan’s pattern was ordinary, the embroidery no better than hers. Yet it could sell for a hundred and fifty cash. Once her work was made into a fan, the price would be higher still. And making a fan from an embroidered face took little labor or material—there was real profit in it.

She glanced around. There were few embroidered fans for sale, and the ones there looked like leftovers. With the hottest days approaching, fans were in high demand. Country embroideresses were all busy in the fields, and supplies were drying up.

“Uncle, we’re such old friends. My brother and I came all this way in this heat. Take it as buying us a cup of tea—make it seven hundred cash, won’t you?” said Gao Nuan.

The old clerk smiled, “Miss Gao, you’re putting me on the spot. At that price, the shop makes no profit.”

“How could that be?” She deliberately glanced at the fan in the young woman’s hand.

He understood. The profit margin on her fans was considerable—even at seven hundred cash, there was plenty to be made. And he still didn’t know their exact circumstances. The daughter of a top scholar selling her own embroidery, with the eldest son beside her—better to offer a favor; it would do no harm.

He feigned reluctance, “Very well! Seven hundred it is. I’ll take it as buying you both a cup of iced tea.”

With money in hand, they left the shop. The sun was higher now, and after only a few steps, they were sweating. On the street, they saw a shop selling ice cream. The siblings thought of their youngest brother at home—he’d never tasted such a rare treat—but buying it to take back would mean it would melt long before they arrived. They resolved to bring him to town for it someday.

They found a noodle shop on another street and ate two bowls of plain noodles, then bought a piece of silk at the fabric store and some thread and needles at the sundry shop. By then, it was afternoon, and they set off home. At the city gate, they saw a vendor selling hawthorn cakes and bought several for their youngest brother to try. Last time he’d tasted candied haw, he’d loved it; he’d surely like these too.

Not far outside the west gate, a carriage sped toward them. The siblings stepped aside, and as it thundered past, a voice called out, “Nuan, little sister!”

Gao Nuan looked back, but the carriage did not slow, nor did the window open.

She paused and glanced at Gao Zhao. He nodded, “I heard it too. I think someone called for you.”

She looked again, but by then, the carriage had reached the gate. It wasn’t a Gao family carriage, nor did it belong to any of her close friends. If it had, they would have stopped to greet her.

She had neither the energy nor the means to pursue the matter. “Perhaps we heard wrong,” she said, and they hurried on.

By the time they reached home, the sun was sinking. Their youngest brother was helping the fourth grandmother’s family gather wheat, his little cheeks flushed red from heat but smiling with delight. Gao Nuan called him and Miao over to wash their hands, then gave each a piece of hawthorn cake. The two boys sat on stones by the gate, eating and resting in the breeze.

Gao Nuan brought two more pieces for the fourth grandmother’s granddaughters. The girls, being older, hesitated to accept, but Gao Nuan insisted, and they ate happily.

The fourth grandmother remarked, “That’s not cheap, you shouldn’t have troubled yourself. You should keep it for yourselves.”

“How could this be trouble? They’re not someone else’s children.”

The words pleased the old woman. She said nothing more, but praised Yang’er for being so well-behaved and teaching Miao to recite the Three Character Classic, just like a little scholar.

There was still some time before the harvest ended. Gao Nuan saved up a few more pieces and took them herself to the Zhang family shop. Though it cost her much effort, she could make nearly twice as much per piece in this season—it was worth it. Aunt Gui, busy in the fields from dawn to dusk, paid no heed to what she was doing.

—

By the end of July, the heat had begun to wane.

This year, Gao Nuan and her brothers had grown taller and sturdier, no longer pale and sickly as before, nor haunted by fear and helplessness. There was a new composure about them, though a trace of melancholy lingered in their brows.

The twenty-sixth of July was the anniversary of Madam Yu’s death.

The three siblings went early to the market to buy incense, candles, paper money, meat, and grapes for the rituals. Back home, they cooked the meat in sauce and made cakes themselves. At dawn the next day, they borrowed some straw from the fourth grandmother’s haystack and a spade, then carried their offerings to the mountain behind the village to pay their respects to their mother’s grave.

Ox Mountain was but a small mountain, stretching several li east to west, with the ancestral graves of many local families. The Gao family tombs were directly behind Gaojia Village. It was said a geomancer had once declared the spot auspicious—backed by mountain, facing water, overlooking the village—a place that would bless the family for generations.

Madam Yu’s grave was halfway up the slope, the ancestral tombs spreading behind it.

The inscription on the gravestone was in Gao Mingjin’s name—words like “the late Lady Yu of the Gao family” and “her husband” seemed, to the three siblings, a cruel mockery. How could he deserve that title?

The three arranged their offerings, lit the incense and candles, added earth to their mother’s grave, and built a ring of stones. Only then did they kneel and pay their respects.

Though they returned often to make offerings, today was different—the anniversary of their mother’s death, a more solemn occasion.

As they burned “gold bars” and “paper money,” they spoke of their longing for her.

Gao Nuan said, “Mother, I brought you braised meat and your favorite wish cakes. We made them ourselves—me, Xiao Zhao, and Yang’er. It’s our first time; they’re not as good as yours. Please don’t mind. Next time, we’ll do better. And grapes—we bought these. The vines in the yard haven’t borne fruit yet, but next year, you’ll taste grapes I grew myself. I’ll even make you wine…” Her voice grew choked, tears soaking her collar before she realized it.

Beside her, Gao Zhao and Yu Shensi wept as well.

Gao Zhao said, “Mother, I haven’t neglected my studies. I read and practice writing every day. I always remember your words—I’ll strive hard, win honors, and return. I teach Yang’er daily, and he can recite many books now. He learns and reads faster than I did—he’ll surely do better than me. Don’t worry, Mother; I’ll protect my sister and care for Yang’er.”

Yu Shensi had much to say. He wanted to tell the hazy figure in his memory that her youngest son had already come to her. He wanted to ask if she’d seen Yang’er. He wanted her to know that the siblings supported one another and would live well, so she need not worry. Most of all, he wanted to say that, borrowing her son’s body, he would seek justice for her and for the boy, and ensure those who had harmed them would be punished.

But all he could do was speak in his heart. Aloud, he said words fitting his age: “Mother, Yang’er misses you very much. Could you come to him in his dreams?” And with that, he began to cry.

Gao Nuan, hearing this, wept aloud, held him close, wiped his tears, and soothed him, “Mother is always watching over you. You’ll see her in your dreams soon.”

Yu Shensi clung to her and sobbed.

Gao Nuan gazed at the headstone bearing her father’s name, a wave of loathing in her heart.

How could the man who killed her mother ever be called “father”?

“Mother, I’ll take good care of my brothers. When I’ve saved enough, I’ll bring Xiao Hui home and tell him the truth. I will not let him be deceived by… that man.”