Chapter 4

Xue Rao had no ear for music. Her qin playing sounded like someone sawing wood.

Before our tutor could cough up blood in despair, I began coughing instead and weakly ordered that the elderly teacher, already past seventy, be escorted out.

The culprit was watching me with an innocent face.

“I suppose I’m really not made for the qin.”

“That’s all right.”

I sat behind her and laid my hands over her fingers. “I can teach you.”

Her fingers were stiff. Even with me guiding her across the strings, the tune did not sound very good.

When it ended, I suppressed the cough rising in my throat and said softly, “Try again.”

She turned her face toward me.

I covered my mouth and began coughing.

Xue Rao plucked a string or two. This time she did not argue.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

She bowed her head; traces of her injuries still showed. “I won’t be grateful.”

I drank some water. After a long pause, I chose my words.

“Xue Rao, if you learn a few things, you could support yourself even without the Xie family. Wouldn’t that be good?”

Twang—

A string snapped.

Xue Rao turned and brushed back the hair at her temple.

“Why go to all that trouble when I can get money just by keeping them pleased?

“I’m not as fortunate as you, Third Miss. But what’s wrong with not wanting a hard life?”

I stared for a moment, then waved my hand.

“Never mind. I knew you were hopelessly stubborn.”

“Then why waste your time on me?”

Xue Rao rose with an air of relief. “Such a hypocrite.”

“Who said you could leave?”

I idly touched the strings. “You can suffer through this hard life with me, dear sister.”

Xue Rao was miserable. I was delighted.

Once, I had labored over my lessons while she laughed and played outside my courtyard.

Now her kite gathered dust, and its owner had to sit unhappily beside me, copying books, embroidering, practicing the qin, and working the abacus.

I could have laughed in my sleep.

A few days later, I took an interest in making wine.

Xue Rao was sent to weigh peach blossoms for me.

“Ten taels, twenty taels… damn sickly girl, why can’t she just stay in bed… peach-blossom wine, peach-blossom bloody wine…”

“This isn’t peach-blossom wine.”

My sudden voice startled her. The flowers in her hands scattered.

Pink petals settled in her hair.

I lifted one out and said seriously, “This is a new wine we created together. This jar is yours, and this one’s mine.

“When we each marry, we’ll dig them up to celebrate.

“First, let’s give it a name, Ah Rao.”

For once, Xue Rao seemed at a loss.

She scratched her head. “Are you making things difficult for me on purpose? You know I can barely read yet.

“Just wait. I’ll go and read a few more books, and I’ll come up with the best name there is.”

She really did spend several days turning pages. Then she wrote a few crooked characters in front of me.

Mingzhu-Rao.

She pointed at me, then at herself. “Xie Mingzhu, Xue Rao. Since you’re the young miss, I suppose your name can come first.”

An odd jumble of a name for our odd jumble of a wine.

For the first time, Xue Rao did not oppose me.

Avoiding the servants, we secretly dug a hole beneath the Xie household’s hundred-year-old peach tree.

“Hurry. Mother says this tree has a spirit now. It affects the household’s feng shui, so we mustn’t disturb it.”

No sooner had I said it than Xue Rao dug with greater enthusiasm.

“You keep watch. At your pace, it’ll be dawn before we finish.”

Abashed, I rubbed my nose.

She deftly dug the hole and filled it in, while I pretended to be ill and sent several servants away.

“Make it level so no one digs it up,” she muttered. “This is part of our future dowries.”