Chapter 4

In our second year of marriage, he had been sent away on disaster-relief duties. On his return, he bought it for me at a roadside stall.

The wood was rough, the fish's tail crookedly carved. I had laughed at his clumsiness. He said he hoped I would have abundance every year.

Later, I put it at the bottom of my dressing box. I did not know when he had taken it away.

“I've kept it all this time.” His voice was hoarse. “Qingwu, I did love you once. Xie Roujia was only a moment's folly. Will you wait for me? However far Lingnan is, I'll come back.”

Rain ran down through the hair on his forehead.

He looked wretched. Pitiful, too.

But I remembered the night in the south of the city when he told me to take medicine. I remembered him hanging my pendant around Xie Roujia's neck, and the certainty with which he wrote, “Lady Ruan is weak.”

He had changed long ago. Only after losing everything would he admit he was afraid.

I put the wooden fish back in his hand.

“Keep it, Lu Wenjing.”

He stared.

“You wished me abundance every year. But I already had shops, fields, estates, abilities of my own, and a peaceful life. You took those things away. Now you bring me a wooden fish and ask me to remember the past. Isn't that ridiculous?”

I looked at him.

“You don't care about me. You care about the Ruan Qingwu who would cover your losses and stay in one place, waiting for you to turn back.”

His lips moved. The last light in his eyes went out.

“The Ruan Qingwu who watched your door and kept your accounts left outside that house in the south of the city.”

The guards urged him onward.

They pushed him ahead. After a few steps, he turned again. Through the heavy rain, perhaps he was still searching my face for a trace of wavering.

But I folded my umbrella, turned, and walked back into the city.

Wind slipped down my collar, so cold it felt refreshing.

12.

Qin Chongshan's case implicated so many people that the investigation took two full months.

Because Xie Roujia had come forward voluntarily and provided the register from the separate residence, she was spared exile. Only property acquired through illicit gains was confiscated. Investigation confirmed that her mother's two silk shops belonged to her dowry, so they were exempt.

When she came to say goodbye, she had changed into a practical, narrow-sleeved outfit.

“I want to go to Jiangnan,” she said. “The silk trade is good there. No one knows the Xie family, or Lu Wenjing.”

I nodded and handed her a travel permit.

“I have a shopkeeper in Jiangnan. Take this letter to him. Learn the business at his shop for six months first. If you do well, you can gradually save your wages toward a shop of your own.”

Her eyes reddened.

“Aren't you afraid I'll run off?”

“If you wanted to run, you would have taken the register and fled long ago.”

She was quiet for a moment, then bowed formally.

“I'll repay the money.”

“First make a decent life for yourself. Then we'll talk.”

After she left, A Ling watched her retreating figure and clicked her tongue.

“You're still too softhearted, my lady.”

“I've given her a path, not absolution.” I moved the beads of my abacus. “How she walks it is her own account to settle.”

The Ruan shops reopened. I no longer confined the business to brocades and silks for noblewomen. After work on the Yong'an embankments was halted, the court needed new supplies of waterproof hemp cloth, oilcloth, and rope. One of Father's former subordinates came to ask whether I could supply them.

It was a large order, and a difficult one.

A Ling feared I would lose out.

I took her to the flood-control works.

In early summer, the river ran swift. The embankments were being dismantled and rebuilt, and bare-chested laborers crowded the bank. The newly appointed river official was an unsmiling old man. He soaked my sample in water for half a day, then tried with all his strength to tear it.

“Mistress Ruan, your oilcloth is good, but the price is five percent higher than the others.”

“That difference pays for tung oil and fine hemp fiber,” I said. “It won't rot after three months in river water. The others begin fraying after one. If cheapness is all you want, please choose another supplier. I mean to stay in business. I won't buy repeat orders with people's lives.”

He studied me for a long time, then suddenly laughed.

“Your father said the same thing.”

We settled the contract on the spot.

On the way back to the capital, A Ling excitedly counted the banknotes three times in the carriage. I told her to put them away safely, thinking of Father taking me to inspect the embankments when I was little.

He had pointed at the river and said that life and business were alike: both needed sound foundations.

However fine the outside looked, if it was hollow within, sooner or later the water would sweep it away.

Lu Wenjing was that hollow embankment.

At last, I no longer had to conceal his ugliness.

13.

In autumn, the Earl of Yongchang's household sent Lu Mingzhu back.

She stood outside the Ruan residence with two maids. Her clothes were still costly, but the arrogance had gone from her eyes.

When Lu Cheng came for instructions, A Ling was airing account books in the courtyard. She gave a cold laugh.

“She still has the nerve to come here.”

“Let her in,” I said.

Entering the garden hall, Lu Mingzhu first fixed her eyes on my cloud-brocade skirt. It was a new fabric from the shop, pale in color with an elegant pattern. She had always loved taking my things. No doubt she coveted this too.

“Sister-in… Mistress Ruan.”

She corrected herself.

“What brings you here, Miss Lu?”

She gritted her teeth.

“The earl's family wants to repudiate me. They say my birth family committed crimes, and you've reclaimed my dowry, so keeping me would only invite disaster. Can you lend me five hundred taels?”

I laughed.

“No.”

Her face flushed.

“You have so much money now. What's five hundred taels to you?”

“To me, it's money I worked hard to earn. What is it to you?”

She had no answer.

I drew a sheet from the account book.

“The earl's household has returned half the dowry you took. The remainder has been valued in silver and entered under your name. If you want money, sell your jewelry or find work. Embroidery, bookkeeping, opening a shop—you needn't starve in the capital.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I don't know how.”

“Then learn.”

She stood for a long time, as though no one had ever said such a thing to her. The Lu family had spoiled her. The earl's household treated her as an ornament. She herself knew only how to hold out a hand and ask.

I had no obligation to teach her.

Yet when she reached the door, I had A Ling give her a letter.

“The embroidery workshop in the west of the city needs an apprentice. The owner is called Shen. She has a bad temper, and the pay isn't high. Whether you go is your choice.”

Lu Mingzhu gripped the letter. Without thanking me, she hurried away.

A Ling was puzzled.

“Why bother, my lady?”

“It isn't for her,” I said. “I want Old Madam Lu to know that the daughter she raised has another path besides depending on other people.”

Whether Lu Mingzhu took it was her own fate.

Not long afterward, Pei Zhaoye came with the final payment for the flood-control supplies.

He had been promoted to chief justice of the Court of Judicial Review. His official robes had changed color, but he was as direct as ever.

He sat beneath the veranda drinking tea. As I approached with my abacus, he suddenly asked, “Mistress Ruan, I hear you mean to open a branch in Jiangnan next year?”

“Yes.”

“I've been ordered to inspect the salt routes there. It happens to be on my way.”

I looked up.

His ears had reddened slightly, though his expression remained solemn.

“I mean, the roads aren't entirely peaceful. If you need trading-route passage documents from the Court of Judicial Review, I can arrange them.”

A Ling hid behind a pillar, laughing.

I closed my account book.

“Then thank you, Lord Pei.”

He seemed to have more to say. In the end, he only nodded.

He was in no hurry. I was in even less.

My life had only just opened out. There was no need to rush someone else into it.

14.

Preparations for the Jiangnan branch were only halfway complete when trouble arrived.

The largest local cloth business, Wanhe Trading House, suddenly posted notices claiming that the Ruan family's oilcloth contained inferior glue and was used to cheat the flood-control projects. The notices went up at the busiest spot on the docks, in large characters. Two shop assistants stood beside them, telling everyone I was a cast-off widow from the capital who had obtained the contracts by currying favor with officials.

The shopkeeper came to me with a notice, his forehead damp with sweat.

“Mistress, we've only just rented the premises. The cargo boats haven't even finished unloading. If they ruin our name, some regular customers may cancel their orders.”

A Ling immediately wanted to take people to tear the notices down.

“They'll only put them up again.” I turned the sheet over. My finger touched a streak of ink not yet dry. “First find out who paid for this.”

Wanhe's owner, Qian, had made his fortune in cloth. Lately, he had set his sights on supplying oilcloth for flood-control works. Earlier, he had brought samples to our business and tried to buy our oil mixture formula at a price twenty percent lower. He had looked deeply displeased when I refused.

He wanted to crush my new shop, then take over its supplies cheaply.

His abacus was clicking away. Unfortunately, he had left me out of his calculations.

I told the shopkeeper not to lower prices or argue with anyone. He was simply to record the names of every customer who canceled.

Then I sent A Ling to invite the Jiangnan river office's goods inspector. I also had ten copies of Wanhe's notice made and posted at every dock.

The next day, Qian came in person.

Dressed in fine silk, all smiles and gentle words, he sighed as soon as he entered.

“Why quarrel with me, Mistress Ruan? In business, harmony brings wealth. A woman may hold a formula without being able to keep it. Why not give me thirty percent of the oilcloth business? I'll settle this misunderstanding for you.”

I poured him tea.

“You're right, Master Qian. Harmony matters in business.”

His smile widened. He thought I had yielded.

I pushed a sheet toward him.

“So I've prepared a little harmony for you too.”

It was a record of Wanhe's purchases over the past three years. Last winter, he had bought a batch of old, moldy hemp from the north and resold it to the cemetery outside the city for shrouds, charging the price of new hemp. It was no great matter, not enough to uproot his business, but enough to destroy his reputation.

His smile froze.

“Where did you get that?”

“A business always has a few assistants willing to tell the truth.” I raised my cup. “Invent defects in my goods, and I'll take these accounts to the merchants' guild. Then everyone can see who actually passes moldy hemp off as sound stock.”

His face went livid.

“You dare threaten me?”

“I'm returning the courtesy.” I looked up. “Take your people to remove every notice now, and come here to apologize in person. Then this ends. If the notices remain after noon, every guild chairman in Jiangnan will receive a copy.”

He stared at me.

I did not hurry him.

After a while, he smashed his teacup and left.

“What a creature!” A Ling muttered after him.

I looked at the broken porcelain.

“Charge that to Wanhe,” I told the shopkeeper. “Have him pay for it later.”

Before noon, every notice at the docks had indeed been removed. Qian did not come himself. He sent his steward with a thousand taels in banknotes and a written apology.

I accepted only the price of the cup and returned everything else untouched.

“Tell Master Qian to keep his silver and buy good hemp. If he does this again, I won't take money. I'll report him.”

That afternoon, the river office's inspector publicly examined our new shipment of oilcloth. The oil penetrated every hemp fiber. After half a day soaking in a barrel, the cloth was as strong as before. The shipping firms' managers watched for themselves. Customers who had canceled returned, and two even placed additional rush orders.

Clutching the account book, my shopkeeper smiled until the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Mistress, our first month's takings are better than the capital headquarters'!”

I told him not to celebrate yet. First, he was to give the dock porters an extra meal of meat and vegetables. Then he was to set aside a tenth of the earnings to build rain shelters for the workers near the embankment.

“Our business depends on this river. Only if the people on its embankments live well can our goods keep moving for years to come.”

At dusk, Pei Zhaoye returned from his inspection and stood at the door, looking at the newly hung Ruan banner.

“I hear you've won another battle today.”

“Master Qian brought it to my door.” I handed him the inspection document. “If you think I bullied him, you're welcome to take up his case.”

He read the document carefully, then laughed.

“I concern myself with people breaking the law. Someone being foolish enough to provoke Mistress Ruan of his own accord is outside the Court of Judicial Review's jurisdiction.”

He handed it back. His sleeve brushed past with a faint scent of pine-soot ink.

I watched the lamps coming on along the street, with no sense of being carried away by triumph.

One victory was little enough.

Keeping what was in my hands was what mattered.

15.

Another spring came.

The new Yong'an embankment was complete. Water followed its solid banks eastward. The Ruan trading banner flew at the docks. Every passing boat recognized the Qingwu design upon it.

I stood on the second floor of the new Jiangnan branch, the river outside my window full of spring color. Downstairs, A Ling checked delivery slips with the shopkeeper, her voice clear. Xie Roujia had opened her silk shop on the next street. Its sign read ROUJIA & CO.—she had not reused the old Xie name.

The last news arrived from the capital.

Lu Wenjing had fallen ill from the unhealthy climate in Lingnan. He had not survived the winter.

Before dying, he had asked a relay courier to send me a letter. It said only: I am sorry.

I read it, then laid it in the brazier.

The paper curled. Firelight flickered against the window, and soon it was ash.

No one came to ask whether I was grieving.

I did not revisit the past.

Someone called from below.

“Mistress, the first spring shipment of silk is here!”

I answered and went downstairs, my hand on the rail.

The Jiangnan breeze carried moist warmth straight into the shop from the long street. Our new banner snapped in the wind. Customers were already queuing outside.

I lifted my skirts, stepped over the threshold, and went out into the bustle.