chapter 3
Back then, the Lin family actually had two celebrated children.
One was my young miss; the other was the eldest son of the Lin estate, Lin Jiaping.
The day my young miss sent me away, Lin Jiaping had been standing outside the door, watching me quietly all along.
The whole world envied Grand Chancellor Lin, praising him for raising his children well — his son and daughter were both famous far and wide.
Especially the eldest son, Lin Jiaping. Not only was he handsome and dignified, but his poetry was second to none.
After spending some time in his company, I began to doubt the praises I heard from the outside world.
This Lin Jiaping only knew how to eat, drink, and amuse himself. He had none of the elegance and brilliance everyone attributed to him.
How could a man like him have written those poems of lofty ambition?
Lin Hongxue rarely came to see me. She only occasionally handed me some old, worn-out books.
She was generous enough to say — at least in name — that she’d read them to tatters and might as well spare them for me.
I was deeply grateful and devoured them without pause.
They were full of Lin Hongxue’s own annotations, written in bold, free-flowing strokes without the slightest hint of girlishness.
Beside the annotations were poems she’d written herself. I couldn’t fully understand them, but I knew they were excellent.
On the day of the Mid-Autumn family banquet, I was fortunate enough to have a seat at the table.
When the lively feast was halfway through, Grand Chancellor Lin called Lin Hongxue and Lin Jiaping out for their customary performance.
The servants hurriedly set up two folding screens to hide the siblings from view, then handed each of them a sheet of paper, a writing brush, and a fine inkstone.
Outside the screens, the lamps blazed bright as the guests drank and made merry, waiting for the Lin children to compose their poems.
Inside the screens, the candlelight was faint. I couldn’t tell whether they could even see their paper.
About a quarter of an hour passed, and then — suddenly — the sound of a slap echoed from behind the screens.
I jerked my head up to look.
The guests all looked up as well.
Grand Chancellor Lin’s expression was not good, but he forced a smile and continued entertaining the guests.
He clasped his hands in a bow and said: “My little daughter has an odd quirk. When she can’t write a poem, she grows agitated. I beg your indulgence.”
But my mind kept turning to the poems in that book.
Lin Hongxue’s handwriting was steady and bold. She struck me as a composed, level-headed person.
How could someone like that start slapping herself in frustration?
Another quarter of an hour passed, and the young miss and the young master of the Lin family walked out together.
They both presented their poems.
Lin Jiaping wore a smug, triumphant expression, waiting for the praise of the crowd.
Lin Hongxue’s face bore a handprint, the corners of her mouth swollen and red — yet her smile was tinged with mockery.
Grand Chancellor Lin read Lin Hongxue’s poem first.
It was nothing more than a girl’s sentimentality — wind-blown flowers fading, stirring melancholy.
The guests applauded, declaring the poem delicate and exquisite. Splendid, splendid.
Then Grand Chancellor Lin read Lin Jiaping’s poem.
Even I could tell how good that poem was.
Grand and magnificent, drawing on the classics, with imagery so sweeping it made one want to bow in reverence.
But the poem was steeped in bitter frustration and unrealized ambition. It was heartbreaking to hear.
A guest joked: “Young Master Lin’s life has been smooth sailing. Where did he meet with such setbacks?”
Lin Jiaping’s face stiffened.
He said dryly: “A few days ago, I ran into a beautiful young woman on the estate. Before I could even speak with her, she slipped away…”
The crowd roared with laughter: “Young Master Lin is a romantic at heart! Since the girl is on the estate, Grand Chancellor, why not grant your wish and give her to the young master?”
Without realizing it, cold sweat broke out on my hands.
Lin Hongxue suddenly spoke up to stop them: “My brother doesn’t even know who she is. For all he knows, she’s some family’s pearl. How can she be given away so lightly?”
Lin Jiaping smiled.
“Lin Hongxue, don’t think I don’t know. That little maidservant came out of your room.”
The guests’ expressions immediately turned suggestive.
“It seems Miss Lin can’t bear to see her brother stolen away by a little maidservant — that’s why she won’t hand her over.”
“Perfectly natural, perfectly natural. How I envy Young Master Lin.”
“If I had a sister like Miss Lin, I wouldn’t bear to hurt her feelings either.”
Lin Hongxue bit her lip, her fingers digging into her palms.
Lin Jiaping said with a grin: “If you admit you can’t bear to part with her, then I’ll let it go. She’s just a maidservant after all. How could she compare to flesh and blood? Isn’t that right, Hongxue?”
I stood in the distance, watching Lin Hongxue in the middle of the crowd.
The candlelight illuminated everyone equally, yet I felt she stood in endless darkness.
She closed her eyes in pain, trying to shut out the jeering around her.
I didn’t know her all that well, but I could feel it.
She loathed Lin Jiaping — loathed him to the point of not wanting to speak a single word to him.
But every person around her was pressing in on her, step by step.
Everyone assumed she was hopelessly in love with her brother, and they all but begged her to admit it aloud, so they could enjoy the spectacle on the spot.
She was a clay doll in their eyes, a paper figure in a shadow play, the perfect vessel for their curiosity.
But she was standing right here, alive, her pain nearly spilling over.
They turned a blind eye.
Lin Jiaping kept pressing: “Isn’t that right, Hongxue? In my heart, no maidservant is worth a single strand of your hair.”
Lin Hongxue opened her eyes.
Her lips trembled, as if she were about to say “yes.”
I stood up abruptly.
Hearing the commotion, Lin Jiaping turned his head, saw me, and his eyes lit up.
I hurried over, curtsying with a sweet smile.
“So it was Eldest Young Master that day. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Wu Shan.”
Lin Hongxue’s eyes went wide, staring at me in disbelief.
I turned my head away, not daring to look at her.
After all, I was only the daughter of a “slim horse” girl of Yangzhou. It didn’t matter who ruined me.
My birth was my original sin. Everyone looked down on me.
Perhaps after this, even Lin Hongxue would look down on me too.
She must have thought I was a maidservant who curried favor with the powerful, a girl with ambitions higher than her station.
Lin Jiaping pulled me close and, smiling, led me back to the table, where I served by his side.
As I poured tea and water, I tilted my head slightly, pretending to look away — and stole a glance at Lin Hongxue.
My hand suddenly froze.
Lin Hongxue’s eyes were reddening along with mine.
She quietly slipped me a note.
It read: “He’s only forcing me to say words against my will — they don’t hurt a bit. But you rushed forward like that — what will you do now?”
I stared at her, dazed, and the tears I’d been holding back spilled over.
Lin Hongxue was crying too.
She laughed and wept at once: “That’s the way of the world. I understand you.”
And I understood her in return.
That fool Lin Jiaping — he couldn’t write poetry to save his life.