Chapter 51: Choosing a Wife

An adult man’s name in ancient times generally consisted of three parts: surname, personal name and courtesy name. Some learned men also adopted a literary name. Zhuge Liang, for example, had the compound surname Zhuge, the personal name Liang, the courtesy name Kongming and the literary name Wolong. Others used a man’s courtesy or literary name as a mark of respect. A courtesy name was usually chosen at adulthood.

At Shaoyang’s question, Zuo Gui smiled ruefully.

“That is my fault. The shop has done so poorly these last few years that I’ve neglected such matters. Very well. Since you’ve raised it today, we shall give you one.”

“I’ve thought of a name. I don’t know whether it would do.”

“Let me hear it.”

“Shaoyang—the lesser yang channel.”

“Shaoyang? Yes. It has left the exterior of taiyang but not yet entered the interior of yangming. Between exterior and interior. As a courtesy name, it suggests moderation, neither servility nor arrogance. Good. That shall be your courtesy name.”

Shaoyang was delighted. He had brought up the subject precisely so that he could use his own name in this age. At his father’s agreement, he lifted his cup.

“Thank you, Father. Let me drink to you!”

“Good!”

Smiling, Zuo Gui raised his cup and drained it.

Shaoyang refilled it and returned to their earlier subject.

“Are Grandfather and Grandmother still alive?”

“No. Soldiers and marauders slaughtered the village. Everyone was killed. I happened to be away buying medicines and escaped… But I’ve told you this before. Don’t you remember?”

Huixiang had not told him about their grandfather. Young people in modern times seldom asked much about that generation, and Shaoyang had asked without thinking. Under his father’s puzzled gaze, he felt uneasy.

“After I fell from the cliff and hit my head, there were so many things I couldn’t remember.”

His parents exchanged worried looks.

“Should we find Zhong a wife?” Madam Liang suggested. “Perhaps a wedding would bring good fortune and cure him.”

“A wife?” Zuo Gui sighed. “We have nothing. Where would we find the money for a matchmaker and a betrothal?”

“Hou Pu said the court issued an order early this year. Men of twenty and women of fifteen who are unmarried because their families cannot afford a wedding may have marriages arranged by the authorities. Should we register him at the yamen?

“Only, those official matches take no account of family standing. Whoever is drawn is the match. If we got a family poorer and more wretched than ours, we might only harm him.”

After forcing his father Li Yuan to abdicate and becoming emperor, Li Shimin had faced the effects of years of warfare: a drastically reduced population, a severe shortage of labour and widespread poverty. Many families could not afford to marry their sons or daughters. Women outnumbered men, and many marriageable women could find no husband because they were poor.

Emperor Taizong therefore ordered officials to pair unmarried adults from families unable to afford betrothal. The yamen paid for a simplified form of the Six Rites. Families seeking help first registered; once enough applicants had accumulated, the authorities drew lots to pair them and conducted ceremonies resembling modern group weddings. This government matchmaking became a celebrated episode in Chinese history, helping to ease the shortage of labour.

Zuo Gui’s face hardened.

“What sort of idea is that? Does our family need to register at the yamen and draw lots for a wife?”

“Well…” Madam Liang looked awkward. “Better than no wife at all.”

“What do you mean, no wife? Once things improve, we will properly engage a matchmaker and find Zhong a kind, virtuous girl from a suitable family. That is how it should be.

“Remember, the Zuos are a scholarly family, a family of officials! We cannot be careless over marriage. How would I face our ancestors in the world below?”

Shaoyang ventured, “Father, could I find my own wife?”

“What?”

Both parents stared at him. For once, their answer was perfectly united.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Why do you think?”

Zuo Gui raised his chopsticks as though to strike his son’s head.

“Because I am your father! Parents’ commands, matchmaker’s words—must I teach you even that?”

Shaoyang did not yield. Head lowered, he said, “I still want to choose for myself. Someone I like. Otherwise I won’t marry.”

“Someone you like?”

Zuo Gui was truly angry now. His chopsticks rose higher.

“If you take a fancy to a woodcutter or a night-soil carrier—or even some low servant from a brothel—will you marry her?”

“What’s wrong with cutting wood? Isn’t that honest work to support yourself?”

“You unfilial boy!”

Anger sent his qi surging upwards and brought on a fit of coughing. Madam Liang hurried to pat his back and glared at Shaoyang.

“Enough! Must you upset your father at New Year?”

Shaoyang fell silent, but made up his mind. He had not travelled through time to become a sacrifice to the feudal marriage system.

Seeing the stubbornness on his face, Madam Liang tried again.

“How do you know the match your father finds will be bad? He isn’t greedy for wealth or glory. Naturally he’ll choose a wife you can be happy with.”

Shaoyang considered it. She had a point. Many modern couples met through introductions, got to know one another and eventually married. He could regard his parents’ matchmaking as an introduction service, then decide after meeting the girl. That was not impossible.

“Once you’ve chosen a family, could I meet the girl and talk to her before anything is settled? Only go ahead if I think we suit.”

The childish request made Zuo Gui laugh instead. Perhaps his earlier remarks were simply another result of the injury to his head.

He dropped his chopsticks on the table and sighed.

“Your mother is right, Zhong. You are our only son. Continuing the family line rests on you. The wife must be someone satisfactory—not merely to your parents, but to you as well. I will only send a matchmaker if you are satisfied too. We can tell you which family we intend to approach, but I doubt their daughter will agree to meet you.”

Shaoyang had expected that.

“Leave that to me. Just tell me about her. I’ll make my own enquiries.”

“You must not behave improperly! We are a scholarly family—”

“A family of officials!” Shaoyang finished with a smile. “I know. I won’t disgrace you or the ancestors.

“And if I find a girl I like, could you send a matchmaker for me?”

Zuo Gui’s face stiffened.

“Your liking alone won’t do. Your mother and I must approve.”

“That’s what I mean. I tell you whom I like, and if you like her too, you send the matchmaker. Would that be all right?”

“Well…”

Ordinarily the parents decided on a marriage and instructed a matchmaker. More open-minded families might let their children inspect the proposed match. But a son choosing first, then asking his parents to approve and arrange it, was rare. Zuo Gui could not quite get his mind around it.

Madam Liang understood more quickly. She loved her son, after all.

“Your father must agree. If he meets her and thinks her suitable, there’s no harm in sending a matchmaker. Is there?”

Shaoyang’s quick succession of couplets, especially the last one, had pleased Zuo Gui. Learning that an extraordinary physician had taught the boy, and that the recent difficult cases had been cured through him, had improved his opinion of his son considerably. It also strengthened his determination to find him a good wife from a family of equal standing. On that he would not yield.

“Whether you choose her or a matchmaker finds her, she must pass my judgement,” he said firmly. “Only if I approve. Nothing else counts.”

The words were stern and appeared to uphold parental authority. Yet they did not forbid Shaoyang from looking. That was enough: the right was what he wanted. Whether his father would agree once he found someone was a question for later.

“All right. I understand.”

Relieved that father and son had reached an understanding, Madam Liang smiled.

“Now eat and drink! You’ve talked so long about wives that the food’s cold. I’ll warm it up.”

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