Chapter 8

Plans could not keep pace with change.

After a rain pattered over the banana leaves, Mother fell ill. As her second daughter in name, I had to tend her every day.

I sent word to Lin Lanshuang that I would visit later.

Mother had been in poor health since my eldest sister’s marriage alliance. However many famous physicians came, they all said grief had lodged in her heart. If she could set her mind at ease, she would recover.

Father knew his first wife resented him. During the year my eldest sister married, he came to dine with Mother in the east courtyard almost every day. Gold, silver, calligraphy, paintings—piles of gifts were sent to her rooms.

Mother remained indifferent, as though nothing mattered. After being met with a cold face so often, Father gradually stopped coming.

Then, for reasons I could not fathom, my eldest brother finally returned to the capital to report on his duties and immediately began reproaching the mother he had not seen in years.

“What happened to my sister was never Father’s intention. Besides, His Majesty had spoken. Did you expect Father to defy the imperial will?

“You come from a great family, Mother. You should know that a woman obeys her father before marriage and her husband afterward. How can you openly oppose Father?

“Only his kindness makes him tolerate you at every turn. His Majesty intends to keep me in the capital. If you still think of me as your son, stop defying Father. Once I inherit the title, I will make it up to you twice over.”

Mother stared at him. “That is your own sister, whom you’ve cherished since she was little…”

“Precisely because she’s my own sister, she ought to be more understanding of Father’s difficulties!

“She’s marrying as a prince’s consort. No one sent her to die!”

Before my eldest brother could expect it, Mother slapped him. He left in a fury.

After that, Mother’s illness worsened.

She handed the running of the household to me and spent her days sitting in meditation and chanting sutras in the small shrine. She refused treatment from every physician.

Now she lay frail in bed, like a wisp of dandelion seed about to scatter.

Her medicine was warmed over and over, but she stubbornly refused it.

“Mother, why do this to yourself…?”

It was the first time we spoke heart to heart. Haltingly, she told me of the past.

Once, a young gentleman had sat astride his horse with a red-tasseled spear, declaring his ambitions. Within their bridal bed curtains, he had promised one lifetime, one love.

“And… afterward?”

“Afterward came the empty fame of official life, all that futile striving, beautiful concubines, and a brood of children.”

“Perhaps everything in this world is like that. It begins as fragrant orchids and ends as drifting catkins.”

“Still, I cannot reconcile myself to it…”

Hearing that the emperor was unwell, Father hurried to attend him and display his loyalty. He failed to see Mother one last time.

The funeral was lavish. On the day of the burial, I saw clearly from where I stood: Father leaned against the coffin and shed many tears.

Afterward, the capital was full of talk of the Duke of Su’s deep love and his wife’s good fortune.

I wanted to laugh. While she lived, he ignored her, betrayed her, and used her again and again.

Then, after her death, a few lousy tears counted as devotion?

It was the greatest joke under heaven.