Chapter 2

Granny told me my mother had not been pleased when I was born.

She was still pining for Scholar Chen. She had hoped for a handsome, clever boy like him, only to get a girl.

Granny worried terribly. She planned to take me home and raise me once I was a month old.

After all, if even my own mother did not care about me, how could a stepfather care?

What she had not expected was how devoted Wang would be to me.

On the day I turned one month old, the usually awkward Wang went from house to house, all through the neighborhood, giving out red eggs and asking for scraps of cloth to make me a patchwork quilt of blessings.

By then, my mother had already taken medicine to dry up her milk so she could preserve her figure.

Granny had spoiled her since she was little. She had always put herself first.

No one was allowed to reproach her.

Wang could not speak, but he knew an infant would starve without enough milk.

So every day, he tied me to his back in a blanket and worked day and night making tables, chairs, and other wooden things for households where a woman had recently given birth.

He took no money. All he asked was a little milk for me.

Somehow, through all those hardships, I reached the age of ten.

Because of my dubious parentage, the other children in the lane would not play with me.

My mother loved looking pretty. Most days, she was either out buying rouge with the other girls and young wives or sitting in her room painting her brows and powdering her face.

Wang’s shop was at the end of the lane.

An unremarkable, battered sign. Unremarkable tables and chairs with wobbly legs. And one unremarkable face.

The one thing worth mentioning was his patience.

Whatever I asked him, he would patiently gesture an answer.

“Mute, Mute! Why do dogs pee and cats sleep?”

“Because dogs have drunk too much water, and cats haven’t had enough sleep.”

“Why does it snow in winter and frost in autumn?”

“Because the grass needs a blanket, and the seedlings need a drink.”

Then I asked, “Why do I have to eat cucumbers at every meal when Zhao Si gets sweet cakes every day?”

Wang shook his head. He did not know.

He had never been to school. There was plenty he did not know, but there was plenty he did.

His plane stopped moving over the wood. His eyes, still as an old well, settled on me.

Then two copper coins dropped into my palm.

“Go and buy yourself a cake.”

Delighted, I took the money to the pastry shop.

As I walked, I worked it out. Purple water-chestnut cakes cost one copper each; white jade cakes cost two. I would get two of the purple ones.

One for the mute, one for me.

I had just bought them when I ran straight into Zhao Si.

Auntie Zhao had borne him late in life and treated him as the apple of her eye.

“Stupid Xiangzhi. Where did you get money for cakes?”

“Wang the Mute gave it to me!”

Zhao Si snorted. “You don’t even call him Dad. Why would he give you money?”

I had no answer.

Clutching my cakes, I ran home.

The moment I entered the courtyard, I saw my mother standing beneath the eaves.

She had put on a pale mauve gauze dress and looked exceptionally pretty. An inch of wrist showed beneath her sleeve, white as jade.

Seeing me race inside, she snapped, “You little wretch! What’s got into you?”

“Come here and let your father look at you!”

I stopped short. Raising my head, I saw that there was indeed a man beside her.

He wore a long blue-green robe and held a folding fan. His features were refined and handsome, just like the elegant gentlemen in the storytellers’ tales.

“My father?”

I gripped the warm cakes, unable to take it in.

This was my father?

At my blank stare, my mother’s face darkened.

“You’ve spent so long running wild with that mute that you’ve lost every scrap of manners!”

I lowered my head, my face burning. The man came over to smooth things down.

“Xiuzhu, why be so harsh with the child?”

He took my hand, his expression full of fatherly affection. “It was my fault. I was so intent on making something of myself that I neglected you both. You can’t blame the child.”

“She’s a lovely child. She looks very much like you.” He smiled at my mother.

Her cheeks flushed scarlet.

“Does she have a name?”

“Xiangzhi…” I said softly.

His smile was warm. “Is it from a poem or a classic?”

I shook my head.

Of course it wasn’t.

Wang had simply picked it on the spur of the moment.

My mother could not be bothered, and he had never learned to read. So he chose a piece of fragrant rosewood—xiangzhi—from the timber piled in our courtyard and named me after it.

When I was old enough to understand, I looked at the feather-grained wood known as chicken-wing wood and felt profoundly grateful that Wang had not spotted that piece instead.

But now, before this man, the name I had always liked seemed rather inadequate.

“Qinghe, enough of these little details. Now that you’re home, what are your plans?”

My mother’s gaze was eager and expectant, as though she were waiting for a particular answer.

Chen Qinghe smiled faintly. “I left home nine years ago to seek my fortune. Naturally, I have plans now that I’ve returned. Whatever else happens, you and our daughter…”

His gaze fell on me, as warm and golden as sunlight.

“I shall see you both properly settled.”

My mother was overjoyed. Had I not been there, she would surely have flung herself into his arms.

They conferred in low voices and planned to run away that night.

My mother did not want to take a burden like me, but Chen Qinghe insisted.

“Xiangzhi is my own flesh and blood. How could I bear to leave her in someone else’s hands?”

My mother had no choice but to bring me.

Wang’s shop was some distance from home, and someone had to watch over the timber there.

He came home only once every three days.

Tonight really was the perfect opportunity.

The moment Chen Qinghe left, my mother began packing.

She had plenty of clothes and jewelry. Granny had bought some while she was still unmarried, but most had been paid for with Wang’s earnings as a carpenter after the wedding.

Now she swept them all into a bundle in no time.

She even took the few taels of broken silver from the drawer.

Unable to bear it, I tugged at her hand. “Mother, perhaps we shouldn’t go…”

Without a word, she slapped me so hard I stumbled.

“Taking an outsider’s side! I’m your mother. He was only ever a way to cover up my disgrace. A mute, and you actually feel sorry for him!”

I fell to the ground. The cakes tucked against my chest had long since crumbled to bits.

She spat at me. “Spineless little thing. Get up! If you make us late, you can spend the rest of your life wallowing in the mud with that mute!”

Chen Qinghe had already arranged a time with her.

A carriage would meet us under the banyan tree east of Qingyun Lane between nine and eleven in the morning. He would be waiting inside.

My mother could hardly wait. She hurriedly finished packing and dragged me out into the street.

It was the middle of the night. Hardly anyone was about.

Careful of her figure, my mother left me to carry all the bundles.

We walked for a long time before finally finding the carriage Chen Qinghe had described.

“Blue cloth, ebony wood, bells hanging beneath the roof. Yes, this is it.”

Delighted, she lifted the curtain and climbed inside.

With the bundles on my back, I lingered outside, afraid to get in.

“You little wretch! What are you dawdling for? Get in!”

The autumn air was cold and clear. Crickets chirped softly in the corners.

I clutched the bundle and hesitated for a moment. Then I made up my mind, spun around, and ran in the opposite direction.

“My mother’s committing adultery with Chen Qinghe!” I shouted. “They’re running away together!”

The carriage creaked. Someone jumped down.

I ran as hard as I could with the bundles on my back, but the footsteps behind me drew closer and closer.

“Xiangzhi, why are you running so fast?”