It was then that the Third Son appeared at the door, with three journeymen, who clamped Liang-tze’s arms in rope restraints. Liang-tze tried to push them away, but upon seeing his brother at the door and his father at a respectable distance behind him, Liang-tze spit at his two nephews.
“My brother’s sons are meddlesome curs,” he shouted as he was led away.
Chi Lin slumped to the bed. Willow entered, quietly slipping by Wu San-ehr and the two boys. She had never entered the Silver Silence before, but showed no hesitation now. Lao Lao and Snapdragon followed her, all three attending to Chi Lin’s stress.
Wu Lin-kua and Wu Chou-fa bowed low to their uncle, the Third Son.
“How dare you,” Wu San-ehr growled. “How dare you lay hands upon your elder, your Uncle Liang-tze?”
“But he was harming Auntie,” Lin-kua wept.
“He had his thing between her legs,” Chou-fa complained.
“That is not your concern,” San-ehr shouted. “Those who show no respect for their elders shall be punished for it.”
Both boys shivered, but then took off at a gallop, no doubt to seek their mother’s council. Chi Lin knew there was no help for it. Liang-tze would be chastised, perhaps banned from the house, but the two boys would be whipped for their transgression. She supposed they were paying her back for the broken Guan-yin, but she would not wish a beating for them. Still, they had saved her from Liang-tze consummating the act. Would that they had saved her from a far worse terror he had inflicted.
“The sheets are wet,” Snapdragon announced.
Willow immediately inspected them, and then yanked them from the bed. Now the Master of the House was on the threshold standing beside the Third Son. Neither man entered. Willow held the sheets up. Wu T’ai-po grunted in disgust, and then departed quickly. Wu San-ehr nodded to Chi Lin, and then stared at Gao Lin.
“Sir,” he said. “I am glad you had the presence of mind to keep your place.”
Gao Lin bowed. Wu San-ehr departed.
“Oh, my poor mistress,” Snapdragon wailed.
“It is what it is,” Lao Lao said. “The man has done this before.”
Chi Lin was dizzy now. She wanted to be alone, but Willow was fetching clean bed clothing and Snapdragon was fussing over Chi Lin’s hair. Gao Lin was like a dumb dog. It was then she realized he was drunk also, but had kept it under control during the havoc. She was glad of that, but now he offered her no consolation. She was glad of that also.
“I am so weary,” she declared. She was shaken to the bone. She had been shaken, in all but the final act, and she was the only one who knew that truth, except Liang-tze himself, who might be too drunk to have remembered that he missed the final point or too proud to admit the failure. But what was the act compared with the brutality of the attempt. “I am so very, very weary and would like to sleep.”
Willow ordered everyone out before helping Chi Lin into bed, and then departed. Gao Lin retreated to his corner, but even if he was amorous tonight, his touch would have been as hideous as any man’s. When the light faded, even from the panoply of the heavens, Chi Lin did not succumb to sleep. Her mind was crowded with spitting jowls and stale wine, and would be for some time to come.
Chapter Sixteen
Growing Pains
1
A sleepless night filled with ugly images plagued Purple Sage. Not even the consolation that she had the presence of mind to cause the Master of the House to believe that Liang-tze was guilty of the ultimate penetration did not give her solace. Every shadow made her blanch. The Second Son was now under restraint. What if he should become loose and try again or even try to make amends as men do, or so she was told? She could never forgive him the brutality of his actions and, for that, she could be chastised as an ungrateful woman — a meddlesome ghost bride bent on bringing shame upon the House of Wu.
At dawn, Gao Lin knelt beside her bed cabinet, his head bowed, the plum wine bowl held in both hands.
“I found this,” he said.
“Hide it,” she commanded, her voice weak but determined. “It is the evidence of my duplicity.”
Chi Lin sat at the bed’s edge. Her head swam, but she managed to touch her belly. Gao Lin caught her meaning.
“It has started,” she said. “You are the man who has stung me with passion. But you know you can never be its father.”
“I know,” Gao Lin said, his voice choking. “I am sorry for it, but I know it could never be. Do they believe it is the Second Son’s?”
“They do not know yet, because I have been careful. It is too soon to show the world. But when my changes become more evident, they will know and I believe they will remember last night and the Second Son’s attack.”
“And the stain on your sheets.”
“It is a stain on my heart, but I think well of you, Gao Lin. If they should know, it would be my ruin and the end of your tether here.”
“My tether is broken now,” he said, standing. “I shall depart the house.”
Chi Lin stirred.
“Yes,” she said. “You must, but not yet. To go now would be suspicious.”
He bowed.
“I shall complete my tasks. I shall finish the pool and restore the servant’s quarters.”
“And you shall abandon your corner of this hall. But say no more. Mo Li will be bringing the meal. No one must suspect.”
When he departed to his tasks, Chi Lin sighed. Her passion for the man waned. Perhaps her passion for all men waned, but she would miss his company — his bantering and his singing. She would need to reveal her secret carefully and indirectly. She knew how.
Because she was bruised and ached, she did not attend the temple shrine or the Jade Heart Pavilion that day. Such absence brought Willow to her side. She now viewed Willow as a friend and an unwitting accomplice to the events. Over the next week, Chi Lin needed to know the gossip of the house and, through Willow, she learned that the Second Son was sent packing — his wives and children with him. He received a severe scolding from his mother and silence from his father. Two days after his departure, the gifts began to come through the main gate — a fine black stallion, two carts of the finest woven silk, three baskets of ju-tzi, their orange skins brightly shining and three baskets of tao-tzi, golden and fuzzy with emerald leaves still on the stems. Finally, an order was read to the Master of the House, asking forgiveness for insulting Chang O on her festival and, as an apology to his brother, Wu Hung-lin, Liang-tze donated a gilded Buddha for the shrine. Chi Lin was sure that these gifts would grant Wu Liang-tze pardon, but not so far as to allow him entry into the family house any time soon. She was more concerned for Wu Lin-kua and Wu Chou-fa. Willow said that the boys each received five strokes with the bamboo pole until blood was drawn. Their uncle, Wu San-ehr gave them a lecture on filial piety and to be more upstanding and respectful in the future.
“Neither boy so much as whimpered,” Willow said, “even when the blood was drawn.”
“I am sorrowful that they had to suffer on my behalf,” Chi Lin said. “I will never forget their sacrifice.”
“You cannot thank them,” Willow cautioned. “To do so would condone their actions.”
Chi Lin was well aware of that. She would need to keep her nephews’ courageous act close to her heart, out of sight of the family.
2
Chi Lin resumed her tasks, but did so haltingly. She walked with a slight hop, because she knew that if she had been taken during the rape, she would walk thus. This was a small accommodation to a calculated fiction. Her mother-in-law said nothing about the incident, but scrutinized her when she showed up to sew shoes. The Second and Third wives also observed her keenly when Chi Lin undertook to feed the worms. These were easy tasks for her now, but still, as the weeks progressed, she tired readily and began to sicken, especially in the morning when in her own pavilion and out of sight. Her muscles ached and her breasts began to swell. There was no doubt of her condition now, the household whispering about it.
Ji Ji-bang, the third attending doctor from the Ya-men staff, would never be bothered with such incidentals as a pregnancy, but Chi Lin was feverish and Willow told the Old Lady of the House that she feared that a malady had crossed over the Silver Silence’s threshold and had taken root. So Ji Ji-bang was summoned.
“It is not necessary,” Chi Lin complained. “I am with child, that is all. Such sickness attends my condition.”
“Mistress,” Willow replied. “Your head is hot and your hands are sweaty. Such things are not unknown to child bearing, but they can also be most worrisome. The Lady of the House insists.”
Chi Lin, who was sitting in her chair, a bucket nearby, resigned to her mother-in-law’s wishes and allowed Ji Ji-bang to examine her. He took her pulse and smelled her breath, his young head bobbing as he thought. He was an apprentice physician, but still was well regarded in the House of Wu. He felt her ankles and peered into her eyes. Silently, he arose, opening his doctor’s bag on the table, handling three jars and combining their contents in a bowl. He returned, raising the concoction to Chi Lin’s nose.
“Drink it.”
“It smells vile,” she replied. “I cannot.”
“It will settle your stomach and extinguish the head fires.” She took it, and sipped. “Drink it down. Drink it all.” She did so, and then choked. “Good. You are with child, that is all.”
“It is definite?” Willow asked.
Ji Ji-bang grimaced.
“Did you think otherwise?” he quipped. “This is not illness. It is the natural function of the body, like defecation and expectoration. Babies are conceived every day. But it is a discomfiture to be borne and those things do come under my jurisdiction. I will leave you some more elixir and you will thank me by telling Wu T’ai-po that I deserve a premium above my contract. Small price, because, if I subscribe to rumor, he is to become a grandfather again.”
Willow glanced at Chi Lin, who choked again but did feel the vile smelling drink easing her need to vomit. That was something, at least. As to rumor, she would let that grow to her advantage.
Two days after Ji Ji-bang’s visit, Chi Lin had another visitation — three Taoist priests lead by Kan Fu-lai, Yan-cheng’s chief fa-shr. He startled her with his humming and chanting, the others beating drums. Willow came to her side, while Lao Lao, Snapdragon and Mo Li drifted to the shadows. Even Gao Lin peeked in through the window. This was a trial, because Kan Fu-lai ordered Chi Lin to lay on the bed, and then he set a burning taper on her belly. With that the other two priests danced about the room, while the fa-shr touched Chi Lin from head to toe. As the fa-shr was a man, she cringed, the touch reminding her of Liang-tze. But this was a priest — a holy man who had no appetite for manly indulgences. His touch was an exercise in Taoist determination. Then he removed the taper and laughed.
“It is true,” he chanted. “It will be a man child and Wu Hung-lin is his father.”
The trio hopped about the room, laughing and banging the drums. Snapdragon was giddy and Willow delighted. Gao Lin shrugged his shoulders and disappeared from sight. His presence in the window was replaced by three little heads — the girls, Pearl, Jade and Sapphire.
“It is true,” Jade sang. “Auntie is having a ghost baby.”
“He will be a pretty brother,” Pearl added.
“Another boy,” Sapphire concluded, exasperation in her voice.
Chi Lin leaned back to see the children, but they were gone before she could spy them. The priests left, but their singing and drumming echoed through the courtyard, and then through the rest of the house.
“What has happened?” Chi Lin said to Willow.
Before she could explain, Snapdragon was by Chi Lin’s side, pawing her mistress’s hair.
“Your husband returned to give you a son,” she babbled. “I knew my master had returned. I saw him one night as I lay in my coffin and watched the sky through the hole in the roof. I saw his face and he stopped and said Snapdragon, how are you, you old lady. I see you have an Ironwood Coffin and a fine white silk shroud. Good for you. I will save you a place beside the Yellow Springs. He was a beautiful sight, mistress, and it must have been that night he came and made a baby with you. I am so happy. I am so happy.”
Snapdragon’s teary clutch gave Chi Lin the hope that the household eschewed the nonsense that Liang-tze was the father, although in fact no one could deny it. It would take the consecration of the city fa-shr and perhaps several silver ingots to declare Wu Hung-lin a ghost lover elevating Chi Lin in status because she carried a Wu family son. She looked to Willow, who smiled dimly. Who would challenge the pronouncement of the fa-shr? Certainly not Chi Lin, although she felt disconcerted as the lies piled up.
3
A week later, on a chilly morning, Mi Tso-tze arrived. Willow led her into the Silver Silence courtyard, leaving her standing by the nearly finished pool. Chi Lin was feeling well that day, although was too tired to do her chores, her mother-in-law being lenient since her pregnancy became evident. Chi Lin had been gazing out the window at Gao Lin working on the servant’s quarters when she noticed the young woman by the pool. She was nearly Chi Lin’s age, perhaps, wore a fine blue tunic and pants underneath, and a gray shawl to ward off chill. She was unadorned. Chi Lin wondered until Willow came to her.
“Purple Sage,” she said. “The Lady of the House has deemed fit to give you a new maid servant since Snapdragon has become feeble. She is of good stock and schooled in dressing ladies. Her voice is gentle.”
“Who is she?” Chi Lin asked.
“Her name does not matter, just as mine does not. Although my name is Bo La-tso, the mistress chose to call me Willow, so Willow I am.”
“What is her name, Willow?”
“Whatever name you choose.”
Chi Lin thought this odd. But she was glad to have her household increased.
“Who did she serve before me?”
Willow was silent, her eyes downcast.
“It will not please you, but it is so. She served Wisteria, Wu Liang-tze’s second wife.” Chi Lin grunted. “But it is my mistress’ will that you shall have her.”
“Is this a gift from the Second Son?”
“No. That would insult his brother’s name. The Master of the House selected four candidates, and the mistress thought this one suited best.”
Chi Lin sighed. Women from the Second Son’s house were susceptible to Liang-tze sexual prowling. Two damaged women beneath one roof would not bode well. But she decided to obey her mother-in-law.
“Send her to me, if you would,” she asked Willow.
The young woman entered softly. On closer inspection, she was the same age as her new mistress. Her face was clear and pleasant. It would be a change from having old Snapdragon molesting her each morning. She was sturdy, a good sign that she could undertake heavy work and yet she seemed bright. She bowed before her new mistress.
“What is your name, child?” Chi Lin asked, conscious that the title child was unctuous.
“Mi Tso-tze, mistress.”
“And what did your last mistress call you?”
“Thujaberry, mistress.”
Chi Lin grinned.
“Did you like that name?”
“Not very much.”
“I do not like it either. I will name you Juniper. Does that suit you?”
“Thank you, mistress.”
Mi Tso-tze smiled, a bright and beautiful smile, her temperament captured over her lips.
“But that name is given because it is the custom. If you are not uncomfortable, I will call you Tso-tze.”
Mi Tso-tze went to her knees.
“You are most kind, mistress. My father would be honored.”
“We must always honor our fathers.”
Chi Lin found Tso-tze an excellent choice, quiet at first and most respectful, but she began her duties at once by dressing her mis
tress appropriately to the chilly weather and accompanied her to the shrine, where she was introduced to Wu Hung-lin. Tso-tze held the san-tze steady to shade the sun from her mistress’ head, and also helped gather the red paper prayers. In the weeks to come she was punctual and protective of Chi Lin’s toilet, which at first brought her into conflict with Snapdragon, but not permanently.
“Old Snapdragon must be respected,” Chi Lin told Tso-tze. “She will want to arrange my hair and will do it poorly, but we must compliment her on the task and wait until she is away before we rearrange it. She will not notice, being nearly blind.”
“She spits at me,” Tso-tze said, not too unkindly.
“She is not expected to like you. You are new. She once attended the Master of the House’s second wife. Snapdragon was honored in her place. Now that she is on the wane we must forbear and keep her happy. Try to find honor in the spit of one who has served long and hard. Besides, she has an ironwood coffin and a fine white silk shroud.”
Tso-tze smiled, because she had heard as much from Snapdragon and several times a day. Chi Lin liked her new maid servant, especially as the pregnancy grew. Nausea came and went, and she began to feel like a field buffalo, her chores becoming heavier to bear. Tso-tze attended to her every need. The only regret Chi Lin had was that Willow came to visit less.
4
“It is finished,” Gao Lin announced one afternoon.
Chi Lin had returned from feeding the worms and, beyond weary, Tso-tze helping her through the gate toward the house. Gao Lin, hat in hand, greeted her; Lao Lao, Mo Li and Snapdragon standing behind him. Chi Lin looked toward the servant’s quarters to understand what he meant by it is finished.
“So it is, Gao Lin,” Chi Lin said. “Tso-tze, help me.”
Purple Sage managed to come before the quarters. From the outside it looked the same, but the changes were made to the back, an extension added to accommodate Tso-tze and the roof repaired.
“Very fine,” she said.
“Indeed,” Snapdragon said. “The builder has sealed up where the wind blew me cold. He is a skilled builder, indeed.”
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