Chapter 7: The Rongguo Mansion (Part Two)
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Zi Juan hurriedly returned to the Xiao Xiang Pavilion, carrying a lantern. Upon entering, she called out softly for Xue Yan, then went into Lin Daiyu’s room. There, she found the young lady reading by lamplight, her delicate brows lightly furrowed like wisps of smoke, perfectly shaped as if painted.
But Zi Juan knew that the eyebrows were only a minor beauty. It was Lin Daiyu’s pair of moist, dewy eyes that truly captivated the heart. Whenever Master Er saw the young lady in tears, he would always be deeply distressed.
“Miss,” Zi Juan called gently. The spring night carried a chill, so she fetched a shawl to drape over Lin Daiyu and urged, “You should rest early. As the saying goes, Heaven never bars all paths; a way will surely be found in time.”
Zi Juan felt a pang of sympathy for the young lady, who had lost her mother in childhood and her father a few years ago, with no brothers to lean on. Living as a guest in relatives’ homes, without anyone who truly cared, she had no one to turn to when wronged but to weep alone in her chamber.
“How are things outside?” Lin Daiyu asked softly, her head bowed over the book. Her voice was naturally delicate, as fragile as her appearance.
Zi Juan smiled. “The matriarch, the lady of the house, and Second Madam Lian have discussed at length. They decided that starting tomorrow, the household gates will close half an hour earlier; more guards will patrol at night, and every room will be accounted for to prevent thieves from taking advantage.”
“Anything else?” Lin Daiyu continued flipping through the New History of the Tang with calm interest.
Zi Juan recognized the book and replied, “Young Master Bao went to discuss matters with the elders. When he returns, he’ll tell you himself.”
Lin Daiyu finally looked up. “How do you know he will come?”
Zi Juan laughed, “Don’t hide it from me, miss. Not long ago, Young Master Bao sent over an old handkerchief through Qingwen. I saw it myself, and you even composed a poem on it.”
Hearing this, Lin Daiyu’s pale face flushed with a shy smile. “No one else noticed but you, sharp-eyed as always… cough, cough, cough!”
Her anxiety brought on a coughing fit. Her delicate face contorted as she clutched her chest, struggling for breath.
“Don’t worry, Miss!” Zi Juan hurried to pat her back. “I’ve served you for so many years; how could I not understand your heart?”
Gradually, Lin Daiyu’s coughing subsided.
Zi Juan murmured to herself, “From what I’ve seen of Young Master Er, he is sincerely devoted to you. Before, we might have waited two more years; the matriarch is still strong and could decide your fate. But now, with the rebel army besieging the city, everyone’s future is uncertain.”
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Lin Daiyu said nothing, her eyes wandering over the book aimlessly.
Zi Juan continued, “I’ve heard that with every dynastic change, families are seized, officials disgraced, or executed. Death might bring swift closure, but when a household is plundered, the women left behind might suffer at the hands of the rebels. It would be better if you and Young Master Bao formalize your status early, so you won’t be a lonely unmarried girl cast out in the world.”
“What nonsense are you talking?” Lin Daiyu’s cheeks reddened with anger. How could she be so reckless? Even when Bao had teased her about her beauty, she had scolded him fiercely.
“Miss, please don’t be angry. I spoke thoughtlessly,” Zi Juan begged.
Pointing to the New History of the Tang, Lin Daiyu said, “The records tell of Emperor Taizong capturing Chang’an and imprisoning the wives and daughters of convicted officials into the imperial palace. I fear no servitude, but if the rebels attempt to violate me, I will hang a white cloth from the beam and rather die than lose my purity! I came to the Rongguo Mansion with a clear heart, and even in death, my soul will return pure to Yangzhou!”
Zi Juan was moved, gazing at the frail young lady who, though often ill and tearful, bore a character stronger than many men.
“If you die, Miss, I will not live in disgrace either,” Zi Juan declared her own resolve, then hurried to comfort her, “But it’s not yet come to that. Please don’t dwell on thoughts of death.”
“What is death or life?” a voice came from the door. Lin Daiyu wiped her tears and stood, smiling at the youth who entered. “You actually came. Zi Juan, go pour tea for Young Master.”
Jia Baoyu quickly said, “No need, I’ll stay just a moment.”
Lin Daiyu glanced at him a few times before sitting slowly. “What did the uncles say?”
Her eldest uncle was Jia She, the second Jia Zheng—Baoyu’s father—and Jia Zhen from the Eastern Mansion was likely there too.
Jia Baoyu sighed repeatedly. “Father said I must begin martial training tomorrow morning.”
Lin Daiyu was taken aback, then could not help but laugh, teasing, “Brother Bao Er is going to prove his valor on horseback! I won’t keep you company.”
Usually, Baoyu only loafed within the inner quarters, neglecting his studies, let alone the arts of war.
“Dear sister, please don’t mock me,” Baoyu hung his head in dejection. “It’s all that rebel king’s fault—he took Jinling, killed Uncle Lin, and now threatens the capital. The heavens are angry, the people terrified!”
Lin Daiyu said nothing; now was no time for complaints, but to consider serious ways to survive.
Still, Baoyu continued, “Father said I must wear armor and train with the servants. Sister, how about I pretend to be ill tomorrow?”
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Anger stirred within Lin Daiyu. If the city fell, the women inside the mansion would suffer. She had made peace with death, yet Baoyu still spoke so casually. Had he never thought about what would come after?
Her moist eyes fixed on him. “Brother Bao, why won’t you go?”
Jia Baoyu replied, “Those rough men wield swords and spears, drenched in sweat, their stench unbearable. Far better is a daughter’s pure and fragrant presence. If I joined them, wouldn’t I become just as foul?”
He grinned, “When I return in armor, sister might pinch her nose and run far away from me.”
Lin Daiyu felt half her heart chill. If Baoyu truly took up arms, how could she ever despise him?
Half-joking, she asked, “Brother Bao, if the rebels break in and kill me, what will you do?”
Baoyu blushed and said hastily, “If you die, I’ll fight them to the death! I’ll follow you even to the underworld!”
Lin Daiyu laughed, “Who wants you to die with me? There are many sisters at home. If they die, will you seek death too?”
“I’ll become a monk!” Baoyu declared.
“What body of yours could become a monk? Tomorrow, I’ll tell others about that!” Lin Daiyu retorted.
Though originally meant to tease, now was not the time. She handed him the New History of the Tang. “Look again—see how new emperors treated the nobles and officials of the old regime during dynastic changes.”
Jia Baoyu soon read the account of Emperor Taizong’s conquest of Chang’an and the imprisonment of officials’ women in the imperial palace. Looking up at Lin Daiyu’s delicate figure, he sighed, “You are such an ethereal soul. If the rebels defile you, it would truly break my heart.”
Lin Daiyu frowned, sensing this was no comfort.
Just then, Zi Juan entered with tea and noticed her slender form. Jia Baoyu added, “Zi Juan is just as lovely. Those treacherous rebels have no fortune to enjoy masters and servants like you. Don’t worry, sister—they won’t break in!”
His words left Lin Daiyu and Zi Juan stunned. Lin Daiyu’s cheeks flushed deeply; she raised her brows in a near-frown, glaring at him with eyes half-open, cheeks flushed with anger and reproach. Pointing at him, she said sharply, “You wretched talker, spreading such nonsense to insult me! If the rebels come and I live in shame, I’d be dead from shame alone!”
Only then did Jia Baoyu realize his mistake and hurriedly bow and beg forgiveness.
Lin Daiyu, annoyed at his uselessness and anxious about the rebel army outside, no longer joked with him as before. She sent him away with Zi Juan.
That night, alone in the Xiao Xiang Pavilion, wrapped tightly in apricot-red silk, Lin Daiyu thought of her mother’s death, her father’s murder by rebels, and Baoyu’s words from the day. A veil of sorrow enveloped her, tears streaming down, broken and scattered, until the fourth watch of the night, when she finally drifted into sleep.