“It wasn’t that much, just half the Dương family’s estate.”
“Half the estate? What about your older brother? Didn’t he object?” I asked in astonishment.
Throughout history, no matter how cherished a woman was, it was rare for her to bring half the family estate with her when she married—especially when she had an older brother.
Tư Văn shook her head without hesitation and said,
“My mother used to say that my brother and I were both equally dear to her, and she couldn’t show favoritism; she had to treat us equally. Besides, my brother is a man. He ought to make a name for himself, earn honors, and rise to high office through his own efforts, not rely on our ancestors’ estate to enjoy wealth and status. As for me, as a daughter, the times are unfair. I was never destined to build a career like my brother, so I deserve a little more care. That’s why Mother gave me this dowry. My brother didn’t object—in fact, he added some of his own money to it.”
After hearing Tư Văn’s words, I couldn’t help admiring my mother-in-law. A woman with such foresight was truly extraordinary. I felt I was beginning to understand some of my father’s strange behavior lately.
I handed the box in my hands to my wife and said,
“This is everything I own personally. It may not be as much as yours, but I’m giving it all to you.”
She glanced at the box and accepted it cheerfully, without the slightest hesitation.
“Not bad. You know how to behave—you handed over your private money on your own. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your allowance from now on.”
“An allowance?”
“Mm. Money for you to spend however you like, apart from what it costs to feed and clothe you and put a roof over your head. I’ll give it to you every month.”
I laughed.
“There’s no need. It’s all yours.”
I set the box and the chest of betrothal gifts aside, then slowly drew closer to her. Beneath the warm curtains, we shared a night of spring passion.
The next day, Tư Văn and I went to pay our respects to my parents. Unlike other brides, who were shy and bashful, she was completely at ease, poised and graceful. As soon as Mother saw her, she took a liking to her. She happily drank her tea, then took out the family heirloom bracelet and slipped it onto Tư Văn’s wrist. Father was pleased, too. He laughed heartily as he drank his tea, stroked his beard, and nodded.
“Tư Văn—the character ‘Văn’ is a fine one. Very fine.”
When Tư Văn gave birth to our first child, I also received word that I’d placed near the top in the examinations. Everyone in the family was overjoyed and said the child was my lucky star. But as I held our son, I said to her,
“My dear, shall we keep trying? I want a clever, lively little girl just like you.”
Tư Văn pouted and scolded me softly.
“Pah! Who said I’d keep trying with you?”
I laughed, took her hand, and pressed it to my lips.
“Fine, then. You don’t have to try. I’ll do the trying. That works, doesn’t it?”
Her face flushed. She stamped her foot lightly and punched me once.
“You shameless thing!”
But who would have guessed that our “trying” would produce four boys? Holding our fourth son, I sighed.
“Oh well, oh well. Perhaps I’m simply not destined to have a daughter in this life. I’ll just have to cherish you instead.”
While we were still lamenting that we had no daughter, Niệm Niệm, after having two boys of her own, finally gave birth to a little girl. Tư Văn was overjoyed and rushed over to hold the baby.
But the baby was clutched tightly in her older brother’s arms, and he wouldn’t let Tư Văn near. It was only to be expected: when Tư Văn had been pregnant, she’d invited Niệm Niệm—who was pregnant too—to go apple picking, nearly causing Niệm Niệm to miscarry. Ever since, her older brother had kept his guard up, never letting Tư Văn within three feet of his wife or children. Now that he had a precious daughter as well, he was even more vigilant and wouldn’t let Tư Văn touch her.
Unable to hold back, Tư Văn went to complain to her mother and report her brother. Her mother merely smiled and patted her shoulder.
“You little monkey, and you still have the nerve to complain! You should’ve known better back then. Serves you right!”
Tư Văn wasn’t having it. She clung to her mother’s sleeve and called plaintively,
“Mother~”
Later, though, Tư Văn got her revenge. She left all four boys at the Dương family residence, then told them,
“Your maternal uncle is exceptionally talented. If you want to amount to something when you grow up, you have to stay here and learn from him. Pay attention to everything he does, down to every step and gesture. Understand?”
The children were still young and naive, but they knew they had to listen to their mother.
For those few days, our boys stuck to their maternal uncle like glue. They wouldn’t leave him alone even when he went to the privy, bathed, or slept, saying they wanted to learn from his every move so they could grow into capable men like him. If my mother-in-law hadn’t protected him, I think he would have thrown those little devils out into the street, then gone back to the Lục family home and given Tư Văn a good beating.
When I told this story to my maternal cousin and Father, my cousin laughed so hard she could barely stand. Throwing all dignity aside, she pointed at Father and said,
“Tư Văn really doesn’t seem like someone raised by Tử Quy’s family. You’d think she’d take after Tử Quy, but who knew she’d turn out like this? Ha ha, I’m dying!”
Father laughed heartily too, but after hearing my cousin’s words, he said,
“I’ve always felt that this is exactly what Tư Văn’s personality should have been like.”
When my mother-in-law passed away, Tư Văn wept until she collapsed. To care for her, I had to stay at the Dương family residence day and night. At night, after she’d cried herself to sleep, I finally went back to the Lục family home, only to hear that Father was so drunk he didn’t know which way was up. He hadn’t even drunk this much on my wedding day.
I guessed it must have something to do with my mother-in-law, but I couldn’t say so outright in front of Mother. I only reminded her,
“Father is getting on in years. You should make sure he drinks less from now on.”
Mother looked at Father and said with what seemed like a sigh,
“It’s all right. Let him be. He needs to let some of it out. Keeping it bottled up would only be worse.”
Then she told me to go get some rest and said I should return to the Dương family residence tomorrow to care for Tư Văn and see to my mother-in-law’s funeral arrangements.
I went back to my room and took out Tư Văn’s dowry inventory. Looking it over, I spotted several familiar shops that had once belonged to the Lục family. They were all in prime locations and beautifully appointed. Even when my family moved away, we hadn’t needed to sell them in a hurry, yet they had ended up in my mother-in-law’s hands for a pittance. Now the wheel of fate had brought them back to the Lục family.
The Lục family’s estate had always been managed by Father, so someone must have deliberately arranged for those shops to end up where they did. I set down the inventory, lost in thought.
Mother…
I remembered the look Mother had given Father—calm and composed, without a trace of resentment or worry. It seemed she had known about this for a long time, too.
The way she looked at Father was more like that of a kindred spirit who understood him than a wife looking at her husband. Perhaps Mother had someone, too… No. Everyone has their own secrets. I’m only a junior generation; how could I presume to speculate?
But in the end, I discovered Mother’s secret.
Three years after my mother-in-law passed away, my own mother fell gravely ill. As she lay dying, she didn’t take Father’s hand or the hands of her grandchildren. She clasped mine and Tư Văn’s tightly and urged us:
“You must live well—truly well. Always love each other, and stay together until your hair turns white.”
After my mother passed away, the old servant who had been at her side told me that when Mother was young, before she married, she had a childhood sweetheart: a male cousin. He had treated her very well, and the two families had even tacitly agreed to a marriage between them. But later, her cousin fell from favor, and my maternal grandparents changed their minds and took the initiative to marry her to my father instead. Heartbroken, her cousin left his hometown, and never saw Mother again.
At first, after marrying Father, Mother had hoped that she and her husband would live happily together, sharing each day and staying by each other’s side until they grew old. But when she realized Father also had someone he could never forget, she gave up all hope. She lived with him in mutual respect, like honored guests, and they got along peacefully.
That was why Mother was so happy when Tư Văn and I married, and treated Tư Văn with such affection. At last, Tư Văn and I made up for what Mother had missed in her own life.
The successive losses of my mother-in-law and my mother left Father utterly devastated. Tư Văn and I feared grief would make him ill, so we brought the children to keep him company every day.
Even so, his health continued to decline. In a single night, he seemed to age ten years. With no other choice, I invited my maternal cousin over. If anyone in the world could understand Father’s feelings, I thought, it had to be her.
My cousin looked at Father, shook her head, and sighed:
“He’s let his heart break itself. There’s no point in anyone else trying to talk him out of it.”
I couldn’t help asking:
“Cousin, does Father’s sorrow have something to do with my mother-in-law?”
My cousin replied:
“It all happened long ago. There’s no harm in telling you. Maybe once you understand, you and Tư Văn will be able to take better care of him. But I only know part of the story.”
My cousin looked at Tư Văn and me, then slowly recounted a long-buried story from an old man’s heart:
“I grew up with your father. We were as close as sisters. He was a carefree charmer from the time he was young, easygoing and handsome by nature. I used to tease him, asking what sort of woman could possibly catch his eye. He always said she’d have to be both beautiful and clever to be a match for him. I thought so, too. Only an exceptional woman could tame that wild stallion.”
“Later, I married and followed my husband to a distant post. When he returned to Vũ Châu to serve as prefect, I saw your father again. By then, he told me he’d fallen for someone—and that someone was a maid.”
“I asked him, if she was only a maid, why not bring her home as a concubine? Why let her weigh on his mind and miss her so desperately? He said the maid had even turned down his elder brother. How could she ever accept him? She’d probably rather die than go with him.”
“I couldn’t help wondering about a lowly servant who dared turn down the talented, handsome eldest young master of the Lục family. She certainly wasn’t an ordinary person.”
“I was even more curious about what kind of woman could make my carefree cousin so infatuated. So I kept pestering him, hoping he’d tell me about her.”
“Your father told me it all began with a sugar cake. At the time, your eldest uncle was preparing for an examination, and your father went to visit him, hoping to ease his tension. But your uncle was in high spirits, looking bright and cheerful. Your father looked around the room and noticed it had changed: there were unusual new snacks laid out, and a pot of fresh orchids sat on the windowsill. Some clever maid must have arranged everything. Your father ate all the snacks, then thought the orchids were so lovely he’d take them home. But your eldest uncle drove him out.”
“Your eldest uncle was generous by nature and had never been so stingy. The more he was driven away, the more curious your father became, and the more he wanted to learn about that maid. But she was like a turtle hiding in its shell; your father went several times and never managed to meet her. At first, he gave up. Then he heard that she’d refused the First Madam’s offer of advancement and had even asked to leave.”
“After she left the household, your father’s curiosity got the better of him. He secretly followed her and discovered that she was different from other people. He said she was a young woman with ambition and a broad outlook. She hadn’t refused the First Madam’s favor because she didn’t understand what was good for her; she saw through it all. She knew that favor, wealth, and honor were fleeting—that accepting them would only mean being shut inside a bigger, more luxurious cage. Sadly, so many people were delighted and grateful to be given that cage.”
“Because she was so resolute and clearheaded, your father quietly helped her in many ways, thinking he might be able to change her mind. The Lục family had strict rules, but the Old Madam at the time was easy to talk to. If the maid truly had talent, perhaps they could be together and weather the trials ahead.”
Hearing this, I couldn’t help asking:
“Then why did they eventually…”
My cousin sighed:
“The day your mother-in-law expanded her business, your father saw a piece of calligraphy in her room. It had a poem written on it.”
“Was it Su Dongpo’s ‘Prelude to Water Melody’?” Tư Văn suddenly asked.
My cousin nodded. I turned to Tư Văn and asked in puzzlement:
“How did you know?”
Tư Văn replied:
“I once saw that poem in Mother’s makeup box. It seemed to have been there for a very long time; the paper had yellowed, and it wasn’t signed. When I was little, I asked Mother out of curiosity who had written it. She only said it was an old acquaintance. Cousin, was that old acquaintance my father-in-law?”
My cousin replied:
“No, it was your uncle.”
Tư Văn and I were both stunned:
“My uncle? Then why did Mother refuse him back then?”
My cousin shook her head slightly and sighed:
“I don’t know either. Your cousin once guessed that perhaps she was too clearheaded, with lofty ambitions and a firm sense of what she wanted. That was why she made her choice. But that doesn’t mean she had no feelings for your uncle. Still, only your mother knows what the truth was. Maybe she simply liked the calligraphy and kept it, then forgot to throw it away. Who can say?”
“So Father always thought that the man in my mother-in-law’s heart was my uncle, and that was why he kept his own feelings hidden. No wonder, no wonder—when my mother-in-law passed away, I heard Steward Wang say that Father kept murmuring that he hoped they would meet again sooner in the next life. He thought he had only missed his chance because he’d met my mother-in-law too late; if only they’d met earlier, perhaps he wouldn’t have lost her.”
My cousin sighed again:
“Who knows what he was thinking? He knew perfectly well that Tử Quy didn’t love him, yet he still asked me again and again to look after her and make sure her business went smoothly.”
“That’s all I know, anyway. As for his health, it’s remarkable he’s held on this long. Lately, he’s been confused at times. If he says anything delirious or does something foolish, don’t try to correct him. Just let him be happy.”
Tư Văn and I both nodded, in complete agreement.
In the days that followed, my father indeed grew more and more confused. Sometimes he mistook me for my uncle; at other times, he mistook Tư Văn for my mother-in-law. Sometimes he thought he was still in Vũ Châu, then wept and said he wanted to go back there.
In the end, Father didn’t make it through that winter. On the night of the Winter Solstice, he suddenly became lucid and told me he wanted a sugar cake.
I held back my grief and sent a young servant to buy one at Lan Quân Lâu. He ran as fast as he could and returned with it in no time.
But Father no longer had the strength to lift his hand. I held the cake to his mouth. He tremulously took a small bite, but couldn’t swallow it.
With tears in her eyes, Tư Văn brought water and helped Father drink. Water mixed with the crumbs dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
Father tried several times, and Tư Văn and I did everything we could to help him eat a bite of cake, but we couldn’t manage it.
At last, Father shook his head slightly:
“Never mind. I’ve never forced anything in my life, so why should I force it now? You two must live well—truly well.”
Then he looked at Tư Văn, as if speaking to my mother-in-law, yet also as if talking to himself:
“I know she had Văn Quân in her thoughts, but I kept deceiving myself, thinking that the ‘Văn’ in Tư Văn—could it not have something to do with me? How ridiculous. So sad, so ridiculous…”
With that, he let go and breathed his last.
In accordance with his final wish, after burying him, I quietly buried a lock of his hair beside my mother-in-law’s grave.
When I returned home, I saw Tư Văn sitting by the window, fingering a small cord in her hand. An indescribable feeling suddenly welled up inside me, and I went up behind her and wrapped my arms around her.
She started slightly and chided me:
“It’s broad daylight, and we’ve been husband and wife for so many years. Aren’t you afraid someone will see?”
I buried my face in the hollow of her neck and replied:
“What is there to be afraid of? You’re my wife!”
[THE END]