How absurd. Before, she avoided me as if I were a demon; now our positions have been reversed. I was afraid that if I looked at her one more time, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from asking her to stay, never to leave me again.
Before long, Mother brought two new maids to my courtyard. They were only fifteen or sixteen, but both were dignified in appearance and gentle in temperament. Looking at the two girls, I suddenly realized that she really was about to leave.
To Trương Sinh’s surprise, I named the two girls Tử Quyên and Đỗ Vũ—both names referring to the cuckoo, the same bird I had once named her after. But though their names were alike, no one could ever take her place.
On the night before my wedding, as usual, I opened the window and looked toward her room. She would leave tomorrow. From then on, she would no longer be my little maid, and her figure would no longer flicker through the courtyard, nor would those clear, fawnlike eyes shine as they looked at me.
I don’t know how much time passed before that window suddenly opened. She stood there, looking at me from afar. As I gazed at her, I thought:
“It’s wonderful that I can see her one more time.”
My wife was a true young lady of a prominent family, dignified in appearance but frail in health. Not long after we married, I had to go to the capital to take up an official post. She looked at me apologetically, then went to Mother herself and said:
“My husband must go to the capital to take up his post. As his wife, I ought to go with him and attend to him, but my health truly won’t hold up to the journey. Perhaps Tử Quyên and Đỗ Vũ could go with him to the capital and care for him instead.”
Mother was overjoyed, though a little concerned as well. I had only just married, and now I was leaving my wife behind and taking two maids with me to my post. The Thân family might take offense. My wife was very considerate, and said:
“It’s all right. My family knows my health well and understands I can’t endure a long journey. I’ve written to my parents and brothers to explain everything, and I’ll also ask them to help my husband while he’s in the capital.”
Mother was moved. She took my wife’s hand and praised her:
“My son is so fortunate to have married such a good wife.”
It was no easy thing to establish myself as an official in the capital. Thanks to my brother-in-law and father-in-law’s help, it took me two whole years to find my footing there.
Recently, Trương Sinh returned from Vũ Châu and told me news of her.
She truly was capable. In less than a year, she had turned Lan Quân Các into Lan Quân Lâu.
Trương Sinh said that six months ago, she had offended the assistant prefect. If my younger brother hadn’t helped her, she might well have ended up in prison. Fortunately, she was clever enough to befriend the prefect’s wife, and Lan Quân Lâu was able to reopen.
The prefect’s wife, Tô Thanh Thanh, was my younger brother’s maternal cousin. I knew that. When I heard Trương Sinh’s account, I said nothing, but quietly resolved to climb higher in the official world. I also began taking on and resolving several troublesome cases from earlier.
It had been exactly two years since I left Vũ Châu, and at last I returned. My younger brother was getting married, and the Lục family was about to move to the capital. This was the promise I had made to Father, and now it was finally beginning to bear fruit.
But before leaving, I wanted to see her one more time and ask the question I had never dared to voice:
“Is there a place for me in your heart?”
But I only made her cry, and never heard the answer I had hoped for. I could only leave in silence, confused and unsettled.
The capital’s climate was poor, so I hired two experienced gardeners especially to care for the pair of orchids. I gave them no other instructions; I only wanted them to do everything they could to keep the plants alive.
I had clearly heard her answer. I knew I ought to let go, and yet, for some reason, I stubbornly kept those two orchids.
My wife still had no children, so she took the initiative and raised Đỗ Vũ and Tử Quyên to the status of concubines. Both women knew the rules, and my wife treated them very well. Over the years, my wife and I respected one another. I was grateful for her sacrifices, and she understood how hard I worked. Our life together was quite peaceful.
When Đỗ Vũ gave birth to a son, the orchid that had never bloomed before finally put forth a bud. Something stirred in me, and I named the child Tư Quy. To others, I said the name meant that I would always remember the lessons I had been taught. To honor my wife and raise Tư Quy’s standing, the boy was registered at birth as my wife’s son.
Later, my wife went through a difficult labor and gave birth to Niệm Niệm. I was overjoyed and thanked her for all she had endured. She only gazed weakly at our daughter and said that it was her duty.
With my father-in-law’s family supporting me, my official career went smoothly, and things at home were harmonious and peaceful.
One day, my younger brother told me that his maternal cousin and her husband would soon be coming to the capital. The emperor had issued an edict promoting her husband from prefect of Vũ Châu to junior vice minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, and he would be taking up his post in the capital soon. I was now Left Censor-in-Chief, so my second aunt had asked him to notify me in advance, and suggested we share a meal once her husband arrived. I agreed.
Later, I asked who the new prefect of Vũ Châu was. It turned out to be Lord Vương, a man who had taken the civil-service examinations in the same year as I had. While I was at it, I invited him to the Minh Thúy teahouse to talk.
After three rounds of wine, I toasted Lord Vương three times, then finally said:
“I have an old acquaintance in Vũ Châu. If it’s convenient, Brother Vương, I hope you’ll look after her a little.”
Lord Vương hastened to thank me, saying again and again:
“Brother Lục, rest assured. I’ve remembered everything you told me. I’ll certainly look after her with all due care, and convey your message exactly as you intended.”
I gave a small wave of my hand:
“There’s no need to say it’s on my behalf. And please keep this matter between us, Brother Vương.”
Lord Vương looked a little puzzled, but asked no further questions and quickly agreed.
I thought to myself, “At last, I can protect her.”
Not long afterward, Trương Sinh came to report:
“Master, Tiểu Lưu has sent a letter.”
At the time, I was in my study practicing calligraphy:
“Oh? What does he say?”
Trương Sinh replied:
“Tiểu Lưu says that as soon as Lord Vương took office, he went to Lan Quân Lâu and talked for quite a while. I heard that Old Madam Lý had passed away, and Tử Quy was deeply saddened for a long time. Afterward, she went to the Foundling Bureau and adopted two children. She not only sent them to school, but also bought a house for them.”
“Is that all?” I asked.
Trương Sinh hesitated for a moment before continuing:
“She adopted two children, a boy and a girl. The boy is named Tư Quân, and the girl Tư Văn.”
The brush in my hand suddenly stopped, leaving an ink streak that ruined the calligraphy I had been working on.
My expression did not change. I simply waved Trương Sinh away.
As soon as the door closed, I could no longer hold back. I laughed as if I were crying and murmured:
“You little liar. So I still have a place in your heart after all.”
Suddenly, it felt as though an empty space inside me had been filled, warm and soft.
Time flew by, and more than ten years passed in silence.
I had always done my utmost in the civil service, never daring to slack off for even a day. Thanks to the recommendation of the senior Lord Thân, after overcoming countless hardships, I gradually rose to the post of Deputy Chief Councilor.
The Lục family had not only established itself in the capital, but also put down roots and flourished.
When my grandfather passed away, he took my hand and smiled with satisfaction. He said that at last I had lived up to his expectations, and that now he could go in peace to join the ancestors of the Lục family.
When he finished speaking, his hand gently fell limp.
The entire clan knelt on the ground and burst into tears. I, too, silently shed tears, for him and for myself.
The heavy pressure and aching hopes I had carried for all those years finally found their answer that day.
After seeing him off, one day I looked in the mirror and suddenly realized that my temples had gone gray, though I was only a little over forty.
One day, as I was traveling, the carriage suddenly came to a stop.
The driver said an old man had fallen up ahead. I looked outside and saw an elderly man being gently helped to his feet by a young man, who was also gathering up the things scattered all around him.
The old man’s box had been damaged and broken apart, leaving him at a loss. The young man took out a large cloth sack, carefully packed the old man’s belongings, and handed it back to him.
The old man thanked him over and over, but the young man only smiled faintly and waved away his thanks.
I stared at the cloth sack in the old man’s hands, suddenly frozen.
A few days earlier, Tiểu Lưu had sent word that Tư Quân would be coming to the capital to sit for the examinations. I never expected to run into him here.
I invited Tư Quân to my residence to study, so I could offer him some guidance before the examination.
Just as I had expected, Tư Quân not only made the list of successful candidates, but placed near the top, earning the title of Thám hoa.
A young Thám hoa, handsome, courteous in speech, and of exceptional bearing. Naturally, many powerful families in the capital wanted to arrange marriages with him. Some of my colleagues with daughters of marriageable age even came to sound me out.
I sent them off with a beaming smile. As I watched them disappear into the distance, I secretly rejoiced and stroked my rather sparse beard:
“Everyone, you’re too late.”
That’s right. I had deliberately arranged for Niệm Niệm and Tư Quân to meet. I had long known that with Tư Quân’s talent, he was sure to make the list of successful candidates. I just hadn’t expected him to place as high as Thám hoa.
How could I let anyone else have such a fine son-in-law?
My Niệm Niệm and Tư Quân were now well matched in status. Surely they could hold hands and go through life together, happy for all their days.
The next time I saw her was when she came to my residence to discuss our children’s marriage. Time had not been kind; it had left faint traces on her face. But that figure, that gaze, was still the one I remembered so well: quiet, rational, and cautious.