Chapter 7: Marveling at Divine Skills (1)
The next day, as Ji Cheng had predicted, Ji Lan felt much better and early in the morning took Shen Cui and herself to the old lady's quarters.
The old lady had just finished her morning ablutions and was preparing to dine when Ji Lan entered. "Has your health improved?" she inquired.
Ji Lan forced a smile. "I recovered significantly yesterday, but feared lingering illness might taint your auspicious occasion, Old Ancestor. Please don't fault this daughter-in-law for her absence."
Waving her hand, the matriarch replied, "Managing so many affairs these past days would exhaust anyone. My heart aches to see you overworked - how could I blame you? Health is life's greatest treasure. When you reach my age, you'll understand nothing matters more than peaceful rest and nourishing meals. Neglect your youth, and age will collect its debt."
"Could any words be truer?" interjected Madame Su with an approving smile from her seat.
The old lady then summoned Ji Cheng forward. "Why have I not seen you with your cousins these days? Do Changchun Garden's performances displease you? Your uncle imported a dozen songstresses from the western regions - choose whatever entertains you. Why closet yourself indoors at your tender age?"
Ji Cheng hesitated. Surely this venerable fox saw through Ji Lan's schemes? Though feigning magnanimity earlier, the matriarch now used her to chastish Ji Lan indirectly. "This humble one only arrived recently and suffered travel sickness," she answered sweetly. "Having long admired Changchun Garden's fame in Jinzhou, I implored Aunt to bring me the moment I recovered."
The matriarch studied Ji Cheng's smile, contrasting it with Su Jun's radiant beams of privilege. Where Su Jun glittered, Ji Cheng's warmth resembled spring zephyrs - thoughtful girl, avoiding mention of nursing duties that would shame Shen Cui's filial neglect.
"Join your cousins," the old lady chuckled. "We're kin here. Treat this household as your own. Didn't Mencius teach us? 'Honor the aged in your family...'"
"'...thus honoring all elders; cherish the young in your household, thus cherishing all youth,'" Ji Cheng completed, admiring the matriarch's blend of shrewdness and benevolence - hallmarks of true nobility.
After breakfast, the company adjourned to Qing Garden where pipa strings hummed before Princess Anhe's arrival. Ji Cheng had only glimpsed the imperial daughter distantly before, but her regal bearing had awed the provincial girl.
As all present bowed - including the matriarch - Princess Anhe rushed forward. "Mother! Spare these courtesies. Before Emperor and Empress alike, you merit seated honor."
Though gracious to the matriarch, the princess offered others only perfunctory nods none dared question. Ji Cheng noticed the royal gaze lingering on herself and Su Jun during obeisances.
Guests continued arriving, including Lady Jing'an, mother of Second Madame Huang. "Old Sister! What wind brings you today?" the matriarch greeted. Previous feasts had only drawn the Marquisate's daughter-in-law.
"These old legs delayed me," Lady Jing'an smiled. "But fair weather compelled this visit."
While elders conversed, Shen Cui pulled Ji Cheng aside. "Observe how Su Jun fawns over Wang Si Niang already."
Following her cousin's gaze, Ji Cheng saw the Fourth Miss of Yongle County - niece to the Jing'an household's matriarch. Wang Si Niang's striking features commanded attention: vulpine eyes slanting upward, full lips curving in bold charm. An unconventional beauty, undeniably memorable.
"Who is Wang Si Niang?" Ji Cheng feigned ignorance.
"Pah! That social climber everyone praises to heavens," Shen Cui sniffed. "Her sister bore the Emperor's first son, elevating their father to County Lord. Now sycophants inflate her as capital's foremost beauty - though her mouth could swallow fists!"
Ji Cheng recognized Shen Cui's reflexive spite toward any comely maiden.
As morning performances commenced at Changchun Garden - acrobats and farces interspersing dances - only Ji Cheng remained enthralled. Her cousins, having watched repetitious shows for days, grew bored without Master Guo's star appearances.
"What's worth watching here?" Shen Cui sneered, eyeing Ji Cheng's absorption.
The provincial girl smiled. Northerners' superiority complexes amused her. "In Jinzhou, we often hired troupes for celebrations too. Have you heard of Master Cheng?"
Shen Cui stiffened at the famed artist's mention. These "Masters" resembled modern prima donnas - virtuosos whose performances became lifetime bragging rights.
"Ah yes," Shen Cui drawled. "I nearly forgot your family's... commercial advantages."
Ji Cheng sighed inwardly. Her uncle's art collection and official promotions all relied on Ji coffers, yet Shen Cui remained oblivious. "Wealth proves useful at times," she murmured.
Their conversation halted as Shen Quan approached. "Fifth Sister, Cousin Cheng! Let's visit Riverside Moonview Pavilion. We'll summon Wen'er's troupe for fresher melodies."
Though Shen Cui burned at being last informed - evidenced by Su Jun and Wang Si Niang's knowing smirks - she snapped at Ji Cheng: "Must I wait all day?"
Straightening her pleated skirts, Ji Cheng rose with deliberate calm.
“We’re sisters, yet she told others first and only came to me last. What does she mean by that? Just because she’s the princess’s daughter, does she think she can look down on her own sisters?” Shen Cui grumbled in Ji Cheng’s ear.
Ji Cheng knew the reason—it was Shen Cui’s temperament causing trouble again. Though not a princess’s daughter herself, Shen Cui expected the entire world to fawn over her.
Ji Cheng had initially considered advising Shen Cui, but the girl’s abrasive personality made her reluctant to bother. Shen Cui wouldn’t listen anyway and might even blame her instead. “Sister Yun and the others are guests, so naturally they should be greeted first. You’re her own sister—she feels closer to you, which is why she called you last,” Ji Cheng said.
Shen Cui understood the logic but still felt resentful.
The group of eight or nine girls made their way to Yingyue Tower. A river flowed southward before the tower, giving Qinyuan Garden its name as it was surrounded on all sides by waterways. Fresh willow branches along the bank shimmered like the first trill of an oriole, while a small wooden bridge arched over the water toward Ruyi Nunnery.
From Yingyue Tower, they could glimpse the nunnery’s Buddhist hall across the river. Peach trees crowded around the nunnery, their blossoms a riot of pink like drifting snowflakes and scattered petals. Ji Cheng couldn’t help murmuring, “Such beauty!”
The Shen sisters, accustomed to such scenes, paid little heed. Shen Yan had already directed maids to roll up the tower’s bamboo blinds, allowing the spring breeze to sweep through. Inside, nine fan-shaped tables held teacups, dishes, and snack boxes. A small jade Guanyin vase adorned each table, its branches of blooming peach blossoms arranged with meticulous elegance.
“This setup is truly refined,” Ji Cheng remarked to Shen Yan.
Shen Yan accepted the praise with visible pleasure but demurred, “It’s nothing compared to Si Niang’s peony banquet last year. Now that was extraordinary.” (Wang Simiang’s given name was Si, hence “Si Niang.”)
Hearing her name, Wang Simiang turned to offer Shen Yan a faint smile but said nothing. Given her noble lineage—her elder sister was Consort Shu, mother to the eldest prince—her haughtiness was almost expected.
Since arriving in the capital, Ji Cheng had encountered subtle disdain for her merchant family background, but none as blatant as Wang Simiang’s. The latter refused to so much as glance at her, falling silent or changing the subject whenever Ji Cheng spoke.
Wang Simiang’s cousin, Wang Yuemiang, confronted Shen Yan: “Sister Yan, why invite someone like her? She’s ruining our fun and upsetting my fourth sister.” Her voice carried clearly, forcing Ji Cheng to overhear. Though stung, Ji Cheng refused to dignify the remark.
Shen Yan’s tone sharpened: “If you’re displeased, you’re free to leave. Ji Cheng is my sister. Speak like that again, and I’ll have no patience for courtesy.”
Ji Cheng flushed with gratitude. The usually tactful Shen Yan had publicly defended her, leaving Wang Yuemiang red-faced and chastened.
Shen Yan led Ji Cheng to a seat, ignoring Wang Yuemiang. “Pay them no mind. The Wang sisters act as if acknowledging you is a favor. Few in this world meet their standards.”
The Wang family traced their roots to the illustrious Langya Wang clan, though its glory had long faded. Their disdain for commoners—let alone merchants—persisted regardless.
Ji Cheng laughed at Shen Yan’s cutting wit. The Wang sisters had no royal status yet carried all the pretensions of princesses.
Across the room, Wang Yuemiang glared at Ji Cheng’s laughter, while Wang Simiang offered a condescending glance before turning away.
The group split naturally: Shen Yan, Ji Cheng, and Shen Cui formed one faction; the Wang sisters allied with two girls surnamed Lin and Yan. Su Yun and Shen Quan flitted between both sides.
With Wang Simiang refusing to share games or conversation, activities dwindled to flower-viewing and chess until Shen Yan summoned maids to sing ballads.
As March’s warm breezes stirred the garden, talk turned to next month’s peony season. “Our family’s annual peony banquet will proceed as usual,” Wang Simiang announced. “This year, I’ve commissioned a peony-engraved screen from the Imperial Workshops through Consort Shu’s favor.”
Murmurs of approval followed, Shen Yan included.
Ji Cheng’s thoughts drifted to spring in Jin Province, where northern women rode horses, shot arrows, and even hunted—activities she’d twice joined her brothers in. Doubt prickled: was enduring this constant humiliation worth her ambitions? Her second brother had urged her to marry locally, insisting their family could shield her. Yet remembering his sacrifices, she steeled herself—she couldn’t hide behind them forever.
The conversation shifted to kites, ideal for March’s winds. Shen Yan ordered servants to fetch them while Shen Quan added, “Tell Ziyan to bring the bat-shaped kite Second Brother gave me this year.”
“When did Second Brother give you a kite?” Shen Cui demanded, eyes narrowing. Given Shen Che’s refined tastes, anything from him was covetable. “Why only you?”
Shen Quan hurried to explain, “There was only one—he meant it for someone else, but I snatched it.”
“Who?” Shen Cui blurted.
An awkward silence fell. Shen Yan flushed, while Shen Cui remained oblivious to her tactlessness.
Wang Simiang’s face paled. Shen Che’s romantic escapades were poorly concealed from outsiders. A kite intended to charm some courtesan, no doubt.
She cornered Shen Quan later: “Why don’t the Duke and Princess rein in Second Brother?”
“Dear sister, don’t ask! He’s charmed Mother completely. Father broke canes disciplining him, yet he persists. I pray a strict sister-in-law might tame him.” Shen Quan sighed, though she held little hope.
At “sister-in-law,” Wang Simiang reddened, hastily dabbing her lips with a handkerchief. Without her fan to mask her expression, she felt exposed.
Unnoticed, Ji Cheng eavesdropped from behind a partition where she’d been admiring goldfish in a porcelain vat. She sighed inwardly: the Duke’s household, however prosperous now, would crumble under Shen Che’s wastrel hands once his parents died. Yet as the sole heir, he’d inherit everything. By contrast, the second branch—having raised someone as capable as Shen Yan—might salvage the family’s future. Ji Cheng resolved to cultivate Shen Yan’s favor.
Kites required open spaces, best found in the countryside. Though Qinyuan Garden had clearings, surrounding trees posed risks. They settled on a modest field near Minnong Garden.
(End of Chapter)
