Chapter 23: The Newly Widowed Lady Wen

Xu You pushed open the door and entered. Qiufen was sitting at the edge of Lushuang’s bed; the two were speaking in low voices. At the sound of the door opening, they turned simultaneously, one plump and radiant, the other slender and graceful—each captivating in her own way, their delicate or elegant features complementing each other. The room, always chilled in winter, instantly warmed as if touched by spring sunlight.

“Little Sir!”

Qiufen came forward, pouting. “You finally decided to come see us?”

Xu You smiled, tapped her forehead lightly, and said, “I had guests; I couldn’t just send them away, could I?”

Qiufen wrinkled her nose, tugged him toward the bedside, giggling. “Lushuang has taken her medicine but refuses to sleep, worried she’d miss you if you came by. She’s held out for more than an hour now—her eyelids are about ready to close.”

Lushuang’s cheeks flushed. “I did not! Don’t say such things, you little rascal…”

Xu You walked to the bed as Qiufen fetched a stool for him. He sat down. “Are you feeling better?”

Lushuang propped herself up, leaning back against the headboard. The white cotton quilt slipped silently from her neckline, revealing skin even paler and the delicate shape of her chest. She lowered her head. “I am better. I can eat porridge now, and I don’t feel so cold,” she said, her eyes—dark and clear—darting playfully at Xu You before she smiled and added, “The medicine is just a bit bitter…”

She was pure and lovely, but habit lent her movements a subtle allure that could make hearts race. Xu You remained steady, unmoved, like a meditating monk, and replied, “Good medicine tastes bitter; if it’s not bitter, how could it cure you? Since it suits you, let Doctor Liu continue his care. I doubt the famous physicians of Qiantang are any worse than those of Wu County. Rest and recuperate. If you want anything to eat, tell the servants—don’t you dare try to save me money.”

Lushuang chuckled, which made her chest ache; she covered her mouth and coughed softly, teasing, “Yes, yes, you are generous. Back in Wu County, you offered me a hundred thousand coins without a second thought. Do you know how many maidservants that could buy in Qiantang?”

Xu You shook his head. “People aren’t livestock. Don’t talk about buying and selling as though we’re in the marketplace. You’ve studied the classics; since you’ve come to Qiantang with me, perhaps it’s time to shed some of those old habits from Qingyue Pavilion.”

Lushuang’s expression grew solemn. She sat up straight and replied seriously, “Yes, I’ll remember.”

Xu You nodded and stood. “I need to go out with Feng Hu for a while. I can’t say when I’ll be back. Qiufen, stay here with Lushuang. Don’t separate, and don’t go outside. Dinner has already been arranged; it’ll be brought to you at the usual hour.”

He reached the doorway, then turned to look at Qiufen. His gentle gaze could melt any glacier. “Be careful.”

Qiufen nodded earnestly. “I know, Little Sir. Don’t worry!”

After Xu You left, Lushuang’s elegant brows furrowed into a fine crease, a flicker of worry appearing deep in her lively eyes. “Sister, which friend did he meet just now? He left in such a hurry—do you think something’s happened?”

“I don’t know,” Qiufen replied. “I only heard Left Sir say the visitor was from Jingkou, met by chance outside, and came specially to see Little Sir.”

“Oh, I see…” Lushuang slowly lay back, staring at the empty ceiling, and murmured, “I must recover quickly. Even if I can’t help him, at least I can keep him from worrying about us when he’s out on business…”

Qiufen’s dark eyes turned anxiously. In a low voice she said, “Sister, Little Sir spoke a bit harshly just now—don’t take it to heart…”

Lushuang’s voice was gentle, soft as glutinous rice syrup fresh from the steamer. “Silly girl, the way he speaks to me shows he’s starting to see me as family. Why would I mind? I’m happy for it.”

Leaving Zhibin Pavilion, Left Wen found a nearby ox cart. Xu You’s health had improved greatly, but walking was still best avoided when possible.

“You said Lady Zhan Wenjun is newly widowed?” Xu You’s voice came from inside the cart.

“Not exactly newly widowed—her husband died over a year ago. She hadn’t yet entered the household, so she’s what’s called a ‘gate-widow.’ Her reputation in Qiantang isn’t very good.”

A gate-widow meant she lost her husband before even entering his home—a fate considered ominous in any era. Xu You frowned. “Whom did she marry?”

He Ru smiled. “Guo Mian’s only son, Guo Li!”

Xu You was startled; only now did he begin to sense He Ru’s reason for insisting they meet Zhan Wenjun.

He Ru, knowing Xu You was new to Qiantang and unfamiliar with its people, patiently explained, “Zhan Wenjun is the fourth daughter of the Zhan clan’s patriarch. She rarely appears in public, and is not famed for any particular talent or beauty—her looks are merely above average. But for some reason, at thirteen, Guo Mian took a liking to her and personally went to the Zhan residence to arrange a marriage for his son, Guo Li. Guo Mian was from humble origins but wealthy, his fame resounding throughout the Three Wu. The Zhan family was gentry, but not a lofty house, so there was no issue of status. The marriage was soon agreed upon. Three years later, Zhan Wenjun turned sixteen, and the wedding date was set—five days shy of the auspicious day, Guo Li died suddenly. The Zhan family refused to break the engagement… That’s more Confucian integrity than even the Yuan clan of Chen County.”

Xu You said irritably, “Don’t wander off topic—go on.”

“Since they wouldn’t break the engagement, Zhan Wenjun had to marry on the appointed day, carrying Guo Li’s memorial tablet in her arms. It was a sensation in Qiantang at the time. It’s said Guo Mian was moved to tears in public. A dozen days after the wedding, worried she’d be lonely in the Guo household, Guo Mian personally brought her back to the Zhan residence for a stay. Though called his daughter-in-law, he already treated her as a daughter…”

The ox cart wound through streets and alleys, arriving at a quiet courtyard in the eastern part of the city. Through the wall, one could see a solitary three-story building standing in the garden—nothing else.

Xu You stepped down from the cart. “This is it? The Zhan clan is a major family in Qiantang, but their residence seems rather modest!”

“Their manor is ten miles west, outside the city. This is just Zhan Wenjun’s residence within Qiantang—only she and a dozen maids and attendants live here; it has nothing to do with the main Zhan family.”

Learning that only Zhan Wenjun resided here, Xu You frowned again. “She’s a widow, and of gentry birth—not as free as ordinary folk. How can we, a group of men, even get through the gate?”

“Just wait, Seventh Sir. If we can’t even enter, why would I bring you?”

He Ru went forward and knocked. After a while, a trembling old servant appeared, his head white, back bent, and eyes clouded as he scrutinized them for a long moment. At last, he spoke politely, “My lady lives here in widowhood and never receives visitors. If you have business, please seek Lord Wuqu at Zhibin Pavilion. Otherwise, I ask you to leave.”

Zhan Ting’s courtesy name was Wuqu, taken from the phrase, “Ting, without anything to bend him.” He Ru bowed. “Please tell the lady that the beggar who repaid kindness at Zhibin Pavilion two days ago has come to visit.”

Even the old servant, as well as Xu You and Left Wen behind, were left dumbfounded. With He Ru’s talent and years of travel, perhaps it would be hard to amass great wealth, but he certainly wouldn’t need to beg on the streets. When had he ever fallen so low as to beg for alms?