Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Window Paper

The village where Xiaochan’s family lived was a mountain hamlet near Runzhou, not far from Jiangning. A thousand years later it might have seemed no great distance, but in those days the mountain roads were arduous. To travel all the way from Jiangning to that village would take roughly four or five hours, a full day’s journey.

Funeral travel was a solemn affair in name, yet in practice it was never free of worldly concerns. Xiaochan was grieving for her father’s death, of course, but the truth was that she had been sold into the Su household at the age of four and only returned home once every year or two, so her notion of her father was never especially clear.

Part of her sorrow was sorrow itself; as for the practical matters, this trip required bringing many things back, visiting one household after another, observing all the proper etiquette, and spending money on the countless funeral customs and taboos. Moreover, the young master of the house had come back with her, which showed how much the Su family valued her. In short, there were many things to consider. It was not as simple as returning home, kneeling, bowing, and burying the dead.

In a sense, this journey also carried a flavor of coming home in glory, though that seemed somewhat out of place in connection with a funeral. Still, imagine an elderly man passing away, and his daughter returning from the city where she had worked in a distinguished household beyond the reach of ordinary villagers, accompanied by that household’s son-in-law to pay respects, or perhaps by the chief steward, or by Su Tan’er. This was both a sign of gratitude for Xiaochan’s service and a matter of prestige. People would speak of the deceased and say he had raised a good daughter, and that after death he was sent off in grand style. If the deceased were still alive, perhaps this too would have been the kind of thing he had pursued. Of course, most of the time there was no need to be so cynical or to lay everything so bare.

Human relationships and worldly propriety—one lives a whole lifetime amid such things, and they are only natural enough.

After breakfast they left the Su residence. A youth named Dongzhu drove the carriage in front. Geng, the escort guard who accompanied them, was already past forty, but he was steady and dependable, wielded a nine-ring broadsword with skill, and was now one of the Su family’s chief guards. He had followed Su Boyong since childhood, grown up in the Su household, and continued to work for the family. It was also the Su family who had arranged his marriage, to a maid of rather high standing within the estate. He now had two sons and could truly be called fiercely loyal to the Su family.

At this time Geng’s attitude toward Ning Yi was also very respectful, because his younger son was studying at Yu Mountain Academy, and Ning Yi was the boy’s teacher. After getting on the carriage, Geng greeted Ning Yi and sat outside. It was only when Ning Yi called him in that he came inside for a while to talk, then went back out again, leaving the space within to Ning Yi and Xiaochan.

Though she had not slept all night, Xiaochan was still quite alert now. From time to time she lifted the curtain to look outside and spoke with Ning Yi. Ning Yi carefully asked about her family, what relatives there were, what neighbors there were, what elders lived nearby, and so on.

Xiaochan was accustomed to handling such things. She had already thought through these relationships the night before. In her mind, the plan was simply to have the young master sit by her side and not worry overmuch, while she took care of everything herself. But Ning Yi was hardly a fool either. After talking for an hour or so, he had roughly sketched the situation in his mind: whom Xiaochan would need to thank in the next few days, what she should say, what gifts should be given, and so on. He had an understanding of it now. Since he had come along, it was not merely to stand around decoratively.

As they left Jiangning and traveled farther on the main road, they saw many people moving toward this side. Most were ragged and gaunt, with hollow faces, much like those Ning Yi had seen when he came down the mountain and returned to the city. Still, it was not yet especially frightening. The people they first encountered were, relatively speaking, the better off ones, most of them having relatives to seek refuge with. It was said that those driven here later by floods or plagues were the truly dreadful sight. Xiaochan understood these things and spoke to Ning Yi in a low voice about them.

After they left the main road, the traces of such disaster refugees gradually faded as well. The road became uneven and jarring. At noon they stopped by the roadside for a while, mainly to let the horse rest. They took out some pastries and food they had brought and ate together—layered cakes and the like. The provisions were of good quality and could keep for several days. Xiaochan had thoughtfully prepared plenty, chiefly because she was worried that Ning Yi might not be used to food from the countryside.

In the morning Xiaochan and Ning Yi had been seated opposite each other, but when they set out again the carriage jolted, and some gift boxes in a corner rolled down. After they tidied things up and sat properly, they ended up side by side. Xiaochan sat next to Ning Yi with her head lowered, both hands resting on her joined knees, unusually quiet. In truth, she had been wondering whether she ought to sit over there, but the boxes were in the way. Ning Yi did not mind. He lifted the curtain to look outside: green hills and clear water, a few small villages in the distance, sparse fields, the whole landscape still seeming somewhat desolate.

“Xiaochan, you didn’t sleep well last night. There may still be a lot to do when we get there this evening. Sleep a bit in the carriage, though it is rather bumpy...”

After Ning Yi said this, Xiaochan quietly gave a “mm” and closed her eyes, trying to sleep. She was indeed tired. After a while, while her thoughts wandered, her head tilted over and slowly came to rest against Ning Yi’s arm.

The mountain road was hard going, and the carriage jolted and swayed badly; being bumped around like that was no good. Ning Yi shifted his body slightly and supported her shoulder, letting her lie across his lap to sleep, gently patting her shoulder. Out of his sight, Xiaochan opened her eyes, blinking in embarrassment, and only after feeling the two light pats did she slowly close them again. She lay sideways on the carriage seat, resting her head on Ning Yi’s right leg. After a time, her legs were drawn up as well. It was the height of summer, and the young girl wore a thin white outfit. She slept so quietly, her graceful figure slender, soft, and pure.

She slept in silence all the way. Only when they were nearly at South Pavilion Village did she finally wake, her face flushed as she straightened her disheveled hair. Ning Yi rubbed his numbed thigh, and when Xiaochan saw this, she lowered her head without a word, knelt beside his legs, and massaged them for him.

Soon they reached the village. The others alighted from the carriage, and then came the inevitable greetings and formalities.

In fact, the funeral for Xiaochan’s father had already reached its third day. It was summer, after all; the burial could not be delayed. In theory, Xiaochan had already been sold from the family, so if the mistress had not granted leave, they might well have gone ahead without waiting for her return. As soon as they entered the village, they could see the awning set up ahead beside the large communal house, and several of Xiaochan’s relatives, along with her elder brother and his wife, had already come out to meet them.

Ning Yi had heard Xiaochan mention her family in broad strokes before: her father and mother, her father now deceased, her brother married to the prettiest woman in the neighboring village, a younger brother who had starved to death when they were small, and herself sold into the Su family, and so on. Xiaochan’s father’s surname was Xu, but because Xiaochan had entered the Su household at the age of four, she had never had an official name; in truth, she no longer even bore the Xu surname. Her brother could be called Xu Dalang.

Because Xiaochan worked in the Su household, the Xu family’s circumstances were fairly good at present, making them one of the more prosperous families in the village. The funeral, too, could be called dignified and grand. There were bands and singers, monks and Daoists, everything one could ask for, and many people had come. In the countryside, this counted as impressive indeed. Xiaochan was the source of that splendor, so when she returned, many people came at once to exchange greetings, from distant aunts and elderly women to village neighbors and the like.

It was not merely a matter of vanity or snobbery. In the simple countryside, everyone was also curious about Xiaochan, who worked for a great household in the city so wealthy that it seemed beyond measure. Xiaochan greeted these people, introduced Ning Yi, and then Ning Yi also went over to meet them, saying a few polite words—thanking them for looking after Xiaochan’s family, mentioning that Xiaochan handled many important affairs in the household, and so on. When they heard that he was the son-in-law of the Su family, everyone was astonished. Some said from the side that Xiaochan had found an excellent master, others that the Xu family was blessed with good fortune, and so forth. Such comments came one after another. After all, for a rich household’s son-in-law to accompany a servant home for a funeral was weighty indeed. Some also said that Xiaochan was a favored maid and would be no different from Ning Yi’s concubine, destined someday to be a young madam— in short, this too counted as part of good fortune...

Xiaochan seemed young and delicate, but in truth she had seen much of the world and was quite adept at managing people and smoothing the atmosphere. She had not expected Ning Yi to handle the greetings and courtesies so well. Since he had come here, even if he had said nothing serious at all, he still would have brought honor to the family. In these days, villagers would simply think he was a man of wealth or status and find it perfectly natural. Yet he responded with great propriety and kind words, and the others were overwhelmed with flattery, repeatedly praising the girl for having found such a good master.

Later, when he met Xiaochan’s mother and the funeral proceeded into the evening banquet, there were still only occasional greetings and social obligations. At night Xiaochan, dressed in mourning hemp, knelt in the mourning hall with her mother. Ning Yi was not required to appear constantly; though there was also a theatrical troupe performing in the hall, it held little interest for him, and Xiaochan’s elder brother and sister-in-law had already arranged a room for him. Still, he came out and spoke for a while with several respected elders and prominent figures in the village, helping Xiaochan deflect some of the social obligations.

There was little entertainment in the countryside. Some people would remain in the mourning hall, watching the performances and chatting, and even keep vigil in shifts until dawn. But once the necessary courtesies had been observed to an adequate degree, that was usually enough. Only when the hour of the Pig arrived did Ning Yi return to his room, intending to change the dressing on his hand, wash up, and sleep. Yet not long after he returned, Xiaochan also came in carrying a basin and a towel. The noise from the mourning hall drifted over from afar, while this courtyard remained comparatively quiet. Xiaochan had changed into a pale moon-white underdress. Her hair was still slightly damp, carrying a faint fragrance, and she came in to change Ning Yi’s dressing as though they were still in Jiangning.

“Is it all right for you to run out here at this time?”

“It’s fine. Mother, and my brother and sister-in-law, are over there. It’s not as though they truly need to keep watch all night... Mother also told me to come...” She lowered her head as she deftly removed Ning Yi’s bandage, her voice growing softer and softer, though her hands never stopped moving.

“The villagers here seem pretty good.”

“They are the ones saying the young master is good...”

She spoke gently as she changed Ning Yi’s bandages, washed his face and hands, and so on, just as she had in Jiangning. After going in and out a few times, everything was done, and she carried the basin out again. Outside, in the corridor-courtyard, the sound of Xiaochan pouring out the water could be heard. Laughter drifted from far off. Ning Yi walked to the window and opened it, feeling the cool night breeze wash over him. Just as he sat back down by the bed, the door opened again.

Xiaochan came in with her head lowered, quietly closed the door, glanced at Ning Yi, and then slowly walked to the bedside. Beneath her pale moon-white underdress, her chest rose and fell faintly. Her fingers twisted at the hem of her clothes as she bit her lip, hesitant and uneasy.

“Y-young master, Xiaochan... Xiaochan wants to sleep here tonight. May I?”

Her voice was so thin it was like a mosquito’s...