Chapter 10 A Living of Our Own

“There’s something important the two of us must discuss carefully.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Qinghe withdrew to wait at the courtyard gate.

A mountain breeze passed the window, sweeping a few fallen leaves across the yard.

I understood perfectly.

Guo Yinuo would not stop here.

She controlled the household’s private affairs now, and her own family, headed by a second-rank official, stood behind her.

She feared Dalang’s learning and ability.

She feared his position as the legitimate eldest son.

She feared that when he returned to the capital, he would undermine her place in the household.

Cutting our supplies. Spreading rumors. Probing to see how we would react.

This was only the beginning.

I went to the window and looked toward the academy.

We had lived peacefully in Nanshan for three years.

Those peaceful days were coming to an end.

Soon, footsteps sounded outside.

Dalang had just returned from the academy. He wore a long scholar’s robe and still held his books.

There was a child’s softness in his face, but he was growing steadier by the day.

Seeing me at the window, he came quickly inside.

“You sent for me, Mother. Is something wrong?”

I asked him to sit and told him about the allowance being cut, and Guo Yinuo’s quiet inquiries in Nanshan.

His brows drew together.

“Guo Yinuo,” he repeated quietly.

“She means to act against us?”

“Our allowance has stopped.

“It hasn’t affected our lives yet. But if it goes on, I can’t say what will happen.”

He tightened his fingers, then looked up after a moment’s silence.

“What do you intend to do?”

“I want to open a shop.”

I spoke thoughtfully.

“The money and supplies from the household have always cut both ways.

“They support us, but they bind us too.

“This may only be the beginning. Perhaps next month your grandmother will remember us and send the money we’ve missed.

“But in the end, we’re still at someone else’s mercy.”

Dalang leaned forward.

“What sort of shop?”

“A milk-tea shop.”

“Milk tea?”

He looked surprised.

“That would need a fair amount of money to start.”

“Yes.

“Do you remember the farm I bought outside town when we first came to Nanshan?”

“I do.”

“I had someone bring good dairy cattle from the frontier.

“They give three times as much milk as the local yellow cattle.

“There are ten cows on the farm now.”

Understanding stirred in his eyes.

“So you’ve been preparing for this for a long time.”

“If everything’s ready, what are you worried about?”

I sighed as I looked at him.

“I’m a woman. I would be appearing in public to manage the shop myself.

“Could it damage your reputation and your prospects at the academy?”

“Of course not.

“Please go ahead, Mother. You needn’t be afraid.”

* * *

Ten years after we left the capital, Dalang had completed his studies.

When news that he had passed the provincial examination was confirmed, the weight I had carried for so many years finally lifted.

For days, I was happy. Rarely did I set aside every worry, but now I asked Qinghe to come with me to the town below the mountain for a walk.

It was not as splendid as the capital, yet it had a life of its own.

Shops lined the streets, their owners calling out in turn. Small stalls sold cakes, embroidery, and produce from the mountains.

Most of the passersby were local people, with plenty of students from the academy among them.

I wore an ordinary dress of pale cloth, no precious jewelry, and my hair in a simple bun.

Moving through the crowd, I felt entirely at ease.

Qinghe walked beside me, always watching what went on around us.

Halfway down the street, I began to feel hungry.

At a corner stood a crowded teahouse. From inside came the occasional crack of a storyteller’s wooden clapper.

“There’s a teahouse ahead, my lady,” Qinghe said softly.

“Shall we rest for a while and listen to a story before going home?”

I nodded and went in with her.

The place was full, mostly of townspeople and students.

We found a corner at the back and ordered two cups of tea.

On the little platform, a storyteller held a folding fan and told a tale from the previous dynasty.

“Mounted, that general could lead a charge with his blade straight through the enemy camp.

“Dismounted, he could take up his brush and write books, versed in both the classics and histories.

“A master of letters and warfare alike! Tens of thousands of soldiers under his command would willingly have died for him.

“Everyone at court and beyond praised his talents!”

The audience cheered. Applause filled the teahouse.

I listened with my cup in hand, touched by the tale.

Such a man was rare indeed.

Then the two men at the next table began talking quietly.

Their voices were low, but clear enough for me to hear.

“A military commander with an army, and close ties to the civil officials at court…

“A link between the forces outside the capital and those within. Isn’t that precisely what an emperor fears most?”

The other agreed.

“Yes. A subject whose achievements overshadow his sovereign.

“Too much ability, too much military power—that is what makes a ruler most suspicious.”

My fingers stopped around the cup.

The pleasure of a moment before sank away.

I could not help thinking of Dalang.