Nanny Wu was drenched in sweat. Gripping Madam's hand, she said, “Can we call him here? Call him here…”
I stood beside them holding the bowl of medicine, and almost instantly understood who she meant.
I handed the bowl to Nanny Wu, mounted the fastest horse I could find, and raced out into the night, straight for the temple outside the capital.
Master Chenyi arrived.
He did not enter Madam's room. He stayed in the Buddhist shrine next door, striking the wooden fish all night.
Hearing the wooden fish, Madam gradually began to recover.
With only a wall between them, she knew he was by her side. They did not need to meet; the same moonlight shone on them both.
…
Now, beneath the bright moon, I held Madam's hand.
Madam, there are things you think are too late, but they really aren't.
She gazed into the distance, lost in thought.
09
After a month of confinement, Concubine Zhao and Shen Wanyong were released.
My father was so blatantly biased. He claimed they had each received thirty strokes, but in truth, every blow had been little more than a tap.
Concubine Zhao and Shen Wanyong had screamed in agony at the time, but in less than half a month, they were back to normal.
The next time Shen Wanyong and I met alone, she smiled smugly.
“So what if you have that woman backing you? Look, in the end, men rule every household. No one in this residence outranks Father.”
When the news reached Madam, she was standing by the window, trimming the flowers in a vase. After listening to Nanny Wu's report, she raised an eyebrow without saying a word, then reached out and snipped off the fullest-blooming peony.
She looked at the freshly trimmed flower and turned to Nanny Wu. “Never mind. Throw it out. I don't want any of these flowers anymore.”
Nanny Wu murmured her assent and led the maids outside with the flowers, a smile playing at the corner of her eye.
We all knew that Madam had not dealt with Concubine Zhao all this time because my father was not worth the effort.
Now, she wanted nothing more to do with my father, either.
11
The days that followed seemed to pass peacefully.
Madam began teaching me more advanced matters. She took me to inspect the farms and shops, so I could see for myself how she managed such an extensive estate.
As we made our rounds, I was astonished to discover that the farms and shops all belonged to Madam personally and had nothing to do with the Shen household.
This was astonishing because, in this dynasty, a woman's property before marriage belonged to her father and brothers. After marriage, even if she became the principal wife, all her income had to go into the household accounts. A woman's only private property was her dowry.
So over the past dozen or so years, Madam had expanded her dowry many times over and built it into the vast estate she had today…
I went deathly pale. Madam glanced at me and chuckled:
“Look at that silly expression. Did you really think I spent the past dozen or so years doing nothing but chanting sutras and praying to Buddha?”
“As a woman, you need either love or money. Since I have no love, shouldn't I at least earn a little money? Otherwise, wouldn't I truly be useless?”
I hurriedly nodded in agreement, while marveling at one thing…
Madam seemed to have become more lively.
While I was learning the secrets of making money from Madam, Shen Wanyong was keeping busy, too.
Performers from the opera troupe came and went from Concubine Zhao's courtyard, and the sound of strings and flutes filled the air.
I knew Shen Wanyong was learning the Six-Yao dance.
She grew more beautiful, her skin white as snow. Years of dance training had made her figure light and supple.
At gatherings of young masters and ladies in the capital, the young men all praised her as the capital's foremost beauty.
They had once been captivated by my swordsmanship, too, but soon discovered how stiff I was—and that I had no desire to perform for them.
Shen Wanyong was different. She was talented in many ways: she could sing, play the pipa, and perform all kinds of dances.
The young masters sighed. “Miss Yundong is truly beautiful and talented. I wonder which lucky man will get to keep her in his chambers.”
Some even compared me to her. “We're both daughters of the Shen household, but the Second Miss is so dull and has no talents at all. She grew up with her mother, yet now she can't hold a candle to the First Miss.”
Whenever that happened, Shen Wanyong would speak up. “My younger sister does have a talent—she's very good with numbers. I suppose she'll become a schoolteacher someday.”
Then she would laugh aloud with the young masters and ladies around her.
Soon, the day of the capital's poetry gathering arrived, and Shen Wanyong was certain victory was in her grasp.
“In my past life, I copied sutras in the Buddhist shrine while you performed a dance at the poetry gathering. From then on, the young marquis fell in love with you at first sight.”
“But, little sister, this time I'm the one who knows the Six-Yao dance. What will you use to compete with me?”
I wasn't angry. I lowered my head and worked the abacus.
“Sister, for the sake of our sisterly bond, I'll give you one last piece of advice—don't dance the Six-Yao.”
Shen Wanyong laughed and raised her chin. “So you are afraid after all.”
She left smugly. Behind her, I shrugged to myself.
I had warned her.
She hadn't listened.
So it had nothing to do with me.
12
On the day of the poetry gathering, the young masters and ladies sat in rows at the waterside pavilion.
The young marquis, Sở Mộ Viễn of the Marquis of Xuanping's estate, sat in the middle. He wore a simple black robe, and his handsome features were impossible to look away from, though he carried an unmistakable air of menace.
Those who feared him called him the Asura Yama; those who loved him wished they could offer him everything just to win a smile.
My elder sister, Shen Wanyong, clearly belonged to the latter group.
Halfway through the poetry gathering, the strings and flutes began to play, and Shen Wanyong appeared in the center of the pavilion, dressed in a flowing dance gown of sheer silk.
She stepped lightly, sweeping her sleeves; her waist was supple, and every movement was captivating.
This was Concubine Zhao's secret weapon. She had always believed that any man who saw this dance would be utterly enchanted.
The young masters at the gathering did indeed all look entranced.
But gradually, as their initial excitement faded, the young masters began looking at one another.
Their expressions shifted from confusion to astonishment, and finally to fear.
Shen Wanyong noticed none of this. After finishing her dance, she bowed and said, “This dance is called the Six-Yao Dance.”
She thought there would be thunderous applause.
Instead, the banquet hall fell completely silent.
Then one young master was the first to stand.
“I’m sorry, something has come up. Please excuse me.”
Another young master immediately followed. “I’ll go with you.”
Then the other young masters rose from their seats one after another, as if afraid of being late, all scrambling to leave the poetry gathering.
Shen Wanyong stood frozen in place.
She had no idea what she had done wrong.
Of all the young masters seated there, Sở Mộ Viễn was the last to leave.
After a long silence, he stood and walked toward Shen Wanyong.
He had always been cold, but for the first time, his eyes and brows softened with such tenderness.
Shen Wanyong felt her heart pounding. “Young Marquis…”
But the very next moment, Sở Mộ Viễn walked right past her.
He passed her without a second glance and walked toward me, standing behind her.
He asked, “Have we met before?”
13
Sở Mộ Viễn remembered nothing of his previous life. He only had the feeling that I seemed familiar, as if we had met before.
But even that faint sense of familiarity was enough to frighten Shen Wanyong.
Especially since she couldn't understand why the Six-Yao Dance hadn't had the effect she expected.
I had barely returned to the Shen household when she grabbed me.
“Was it you? Did you do something first?” she screamed at me. “Did you secretly practice the Six-Yao Dance? Did you dance it for him beforehand?!”
She lunged at me, ready to tear me apart, but the next moment, the door was suddenly flung open.
My father charged in with a group of household servants.
He pointed at Shen Wanyong, his hand trembling. “Tie this wretched woman up!”
Pinned down by the servants, Shen Wanyong struggled desperately and cried to my father, “Father, Father, what did I do wrong…?”
My father had indulged Shen Wanyong for more than ten years. This was the first time she had ever seen him wear such a terrifying expression.
“You dare ask? You still dare ask?!” His beard trembled, and his pupils widened slightly with anger and fear. “What did you dance at the poetry gathering?”
Shen Wanyong stammered, “The S-Six-Yao Dance…”
She had long yearned to learn the Six-Yao Dance, believing that once she mastered it, she would be on the broad road to love.
But she didn't know…
When the previous dynasty fell, our dynasty's founding emperor once, in his cups, lamented to the palace dancers: “The songstress knows nothing of a conquered nation's grief; across the river, she still sings of the flowers in the palace gardens.”
At the time, the dancers were performing the Six-Yao Dance.
From then on, this dance—with its extreme softness, sensuality, and beauty—came to be regarded as the decadent music of a fallen nation.
In truth, women in the pleasure houses could still perform the dance. After all, it had only been a drunken remark by the emperor; the court had never banned it.
But Shen Wanyong was a minister's daughter. Her actions represented more than just herself; they also reflected on the standing and reputation of her entire family.
The Shen family's daughter, at a poetry gathering where she should have been discussing poetry and literature, had openly had music played and danced the Six-Yao Dance.
It might have been all right in ordinary times, but the realm was now in turmoil, with battles raging on every side.
No matter how much my father doted on her, in the end he couldn't protect her.
Shen Wanyong was confined in the ancestral shrine for seven days and nights. When I went to see her, she was haggard. Her once-bright, limpid eyes were now sunken, her eye sockets so gaunt that the bones protruded.
She didn't notice me come in. She was muttering to the air, “Go tell Father he wronged me, he wronged me! Concubine Zhao told me to dance it. If there was something wrong with it, how could Concubine Zhao not know?”
I walked in and said softly,
“Concubine Zhao may truly not have known.”
“She herself was only a dancer from a pleasure house. My father brought her into the residence because of her beauty and skill at flattery, but the highest rank she could attain was that of a concubine, never allowed to leave the household. A concubine's perspective is indeed limited.”
“Or perhaps Concubine Zhao really did know.”
“But she had to take a gamble. In recent years, she'd used the Shen family's name to carry out things she couldn't let anyone know about. Now she was deeply in debt, and she knew Father wouldn't spare her if the truth came out. So she needed you to marry into a powerful family and become her new protector.”
Shen Wanyong stared at me blankly.
After a long while, she shook her head, hair disheveled, and muttered,
“No, that's not right! You danced it in your previous life too!”
“Why did Sở Mộ Viễn fall in love with you when you danced the Six-Yao Dance?”
I looked at her with pity.
At last, I spoke the truth, one word at a time.
“Elder Sister, have you ever considered…”
“That Sở Mộ Viễn fell in love with me for a reason that had nothing to do with the Six-Yao Dance?”
14.
In my previous life, I didn't want to dance the Six-Yao Dance.
Although I grew up beside Concubine Zhao, whenever I had the chance, I went to the school to listen to lessons. I knew everything about the Six-Yao Dance, and I knew all too well that if I danced it, I wouldn't just become the laughingstock of the entire capital—I might bring disaster upon my whole family.
But Concubine Zhao forced me.
She took my hand. “Ning Nhi, your father has taken another concubine, and soon there'll be no place for us in the Shen household! Trust me. If you dance this in front of those princes and young noblemen, someone will be willing to marry you. It could be as his wife or his concubine—either way, once you've danced it, we'll have another ten or fifteen days of comfortable living.”
I kept refusing, but Concubine Zhao tied up the maids by my side and threatened to take their lives.
“You won’t dance? Fine. Life is meaningless anyway. I might as well beat to death the maids who’ve served you for years and let them be the first to accompany you to the grave!”
I told Concubine Zhao to release those maids, then danced the Six-Yao Dance at the poetry gathering.
When I danced that dance, Sở Mộ Viễn hated me.