I was stunned for a moment, then, belatedly, shamed into anger. I shook my head repeatedly, saying, "I won't do it!"
He looked at me, his pleasant expression turning cold and severe, his bright eyes scrutinizing me. "Could it be that you're willing to be a servant for your entire life?"
Like someone prodding a scar that had long gone numb, a sharp pain pierced my heart, and I shook my head again and again.
Being a servant was bitter—could being someone's concubine possibly be any better?
I was unwilling. I wanted none of it. I only wished to live without being trampled upon.
Moreover, a matter for life, from birth until death, was no child's play. I did not wish to become a woman to be admired and toyed with by a man in his idle hours.
Take my father's two concubines. One was my mother's dowry maid who had become a tongfang and borne a son, yet still spent all day attending upon my mother. The other, Auntie Xue, was favored by my father himself, but so what? From my grandfather down to the servants of our Lin family, no one acknowledged her status. They merely regarded her as a woman my father kept outside.
Nor did I wish to be like my mother, living out her days guarding the empty title of Lady Lin.
What I wanted was this: I am like the star, and you are like the moon; your heart is like my heart.
Watching me shake my head in anguish, he suddenly spoke. "Stop shaking."
Tears in my eyes, I raised my head to look at him.
He watched me in silence for a moment, took a deep breath, lowered his gaze to the ground, and sighed. "Have it your way." With that, he turned and walked away.
That evening, Cao Yingshan changed her clothes and returned to the banquet, where she wrote a poem on the moon with a flourish of her brush, winning thunderous applause from the whole hall.
Unable to contain her joy, she cast aside her usual contempt for me, dismissed the others, and kept only me by her side. She smiled and said, "I didn't expect you actually had such ability. No wonder Hong Da wanted to place you in Cao Junlei's study back then. The poem you taught me—not only did the others think it fine, but even Brother Fan praised it as dashing and unique. Tell me, what books have you read? Is your handwriting good?"
I knew I must not hide my abilities this time; I had to overawe her at once. So I named the Four Books and Five Classics, then shifted the topic, listing every miscellaneous book I had ever read, choosing only those with the most impressive titles.
Taiping Huanyu Ji, Dongjing Menghua Lu, Huizhen Ji...
It helped greatly that Cao Yingshan did not enjoy reading and had not even carefully perused the Four Books and Five Classics. Hearing the string of titles I recited, she was already struck dumb. Once she recovered, she hurriedly unfolded a sheet of xuan paper and ordered me to write a few characters for her to see.
I saturated my brush with ink, pondered briefly, and wrote in running-regular script: "A heroine of peerless grace, Ying, / The tinkling of jade pendants, Shan. / In Badong stands Mount Wu, / Fair is the face of the slender goddess."
Cao Yingshan lifted the xuan paper, a rare blush of shyness crossing her face. She gazed at it in silence for a while, then looked at me with approval and gave a soft "Mmm." "Your handwriting is decent. For a servant, where did you learn all this?"
"This servant is from Baoying County, born into a good family and raised in a refined household. Our home had high towers connecting to gardens, halls adorned with gold and jade. Yet the chaotic times are unpredictable; bandits and robbers ran rampant. My family had no choice but to flee to our ancestral home in Hangzhou. Along the way, we encountered Yellow Turban rebel troops, and from then on I was separated from my family. I wandered to Yangzhou City and eventually entered the Cao Residence." I spoke lightly.
Just a few words, yet they encompassed earth-shattering changes. I could actually describe my past as if speaking of another person's affairs.
Cao Yingshan sighed softly, putting on an insincere show of pity for me. "So that's how it is. Another pitiful soul. I can see you have quite an elegant air, much like Cao Wenqing. Although everyone says that a woman's lack of talent is her virtue, and that a virtuous lady ought not to wield the brush and ink, everyone also admires those with some learning, thinking it a great thing to compose a few poems. Tell me, what sort of reasoning is this?"
She was not truly seeking an answer. It was as if she knew the question had no solution and thus did not dwell on it too much. She continued, "From now on, you will serve by my side."
Ever since becoming Cao Yingshan's personal maid, my days had become much easier.
I no longer had to do heavy menial labor, but instead followed Cao Yingshan to social engagements every day.
Such a spoiled girl had only been in Yangzhou for half a year, yet she had already befriended a host of young ladies and noblewomen.
Because she had a lively temperament and loved excitement; toward those of equal status, she was always smiling, sweet-tongued and skilled at flattery. She was even more popular than the reserved and tranquil Cao Wenqing.
As for whether she truly liked them or confided in them, that was another matter entirely.
But in this life, a bosom friend is hard to find. How much sincere heart could one possibly give?
So Cao Yingshan's ability to get along swimmingly in Yangzhou was a skill in itself.
And with me by her side, she was truly like a tiger with wings added. Composing poems, guessing lantern riddles, playing drinking games—even when it came to tasting tea and admiring scenery—she could handle it all with ease.
Every month, she also had to write a family letter to Master Cao. She would dictate the general idea, I would polish the wording, and then she would copy it out again.
Last month, Master Cao sent a letter home, praising Yingshan for her quick literary wit, her ability to finish in one breath, and her great improvement.
In her delight, Cao Yingshan ordered me to dine at the same table with her and asked if I could drink.
I nodded. She was overjoyed and said to Cuiduo, who was standing nearby, "Go fetch that bottle of Taohua Ji. Today, I want to have a drink with Duo'er!"
Cuiduo rose to fetch the wine. Cao Yingshan added, "Have everyone else withdraw."
"Yes." Cuiduo responded in a cold voice and went out.
Cao Yingshan was in high spirits—why would she care if a maid was unhappy?
Just as I had been before. A household never lacked for servants; what sense was there in minding a servant's expression?
But only after becoming a servant myself did I realize that they too were flesh and blood, with joys and sorrows. Like mayflies born in the morning and dying by dusk, they still strove to live.
So when Cao Yingshan ordered Cuiduo to attend by their side and pour wine, each time I would proactively refill the cup before it was empty.
Unexpectedly, Cao Yingshan took this to mean I had a good tolerance for alcohol. Her enthusiasm soared, and we finished the entire bottle of Taohua Ji.
I had never truly drunk wine before, only taken small sips two or three times. After two cups with her, my head grew heavy and my feet light. I floated as if upon the clouds. Past events, bitterness, and unwillingness—all were cast to the back of my mind. It was a rare lightness, and I grew talkative.
Cao Yingshan, this girl, was no longer so annoying once you got to know her. Her bold directness actually suited my taste.
For a moment, I forgot the distinction between master and servant. I forgot that I was no longer the carefree and dashing Eldest Miss of the Lin family. I lifted my chopsticks and tapped the bowl in merriment.
Laughing, I sang from *The Story of the Western Chamber*: "Blue skies, yellow blooms, the west wind blows strong; / North geese fly south in throng. / Who dyed the frosted forest crimson at dawn? / Always the parting one's tears, a thousand lines long... / Drive the fragrant carriage, urge my horse to hasten along, / Let the sparse forest hold back the setting sun for me. / That I may speak my heart out with Zhang, / Gazing afar at the Ten-Li Pavilion, my heart breaks utterly."
Her own eyes glazed over. She giggled foolishly and demanded Cuiduo bring more wine. Cuiduo said, "Miss, it's very late. If those outside hear you drinking and singing, who knows what they'll say."
Cao Yingshan slapped the table with a crack. "Who cares what they say! If I tell you to fetch it, then fetch it. What's with the chatter?"
Cuiduo went.
Cao Yingshan suddenly threw her arm around my shoulder and whispered, "Actually, I've always wanted to write to Young Master Fan, but I don't know what to write. Duo'er, dear, help me."
Unable to withstand Cao Yingshan's sticky-sweet pestering like twisted-malt candy, I had no choice but to take on the task.
I had thought that with all the idle books I'd read depicting scholar-and-beauty romances, it would not be difficult. Yet when I put brush to paper, the moment I thought of Young Master Fan's bright eyes and unyielding frame of iron and steel, I had no idea what to write.
I sat thinking for half a day. Suddenly, I noticed the Baihao Yinzhen tea by the desk and was immediately inspired. I picked up the brush and wrote in fine, tiny regular script:
"Today, drinking white tea, I was reminded of Brother Fan. I deeply feel that you possess the character of tea. I have specially copied a poem to present to you.
Tea.
Fragrant leaves, tender buds.
Admired by poets, beloved by monks.
Ground like carved white jade, sifted through crimson gauze.
Boiled in a kettle to a yellow-bud hue, the bowl swirls with dust-like blossoms.
After nightfall, invited to keep the bright moon company; before dawn, facing the morning clouds alone.
Washes away the weariness of all ages past and present; once intoxicated, how could one boast?"
When I finished, I showed it to Cao Yingshan. She said, "Just this? What meaning does this have? How could he understand... understand... Ah, Duo'er, do you even understand my heart?"
I teased, "What's the use of me understanding your heart? It's Young Master Fan who needs to understand your heart. Rest assured—saying nothing, just tasting tea and appreciating its elegance, that is the best way!"
"What's good about that?"
I smiled and said, "Think about it. When drinking tea, you think of Brother Fan. Then when eating, you'll also think of Brother Fan. Walking, you'll think of him; sleeping, you'll think of him. Is that not longing like the tide, wave after wave, surging endlessly?"
Cao Yingshan rarely blushed, but now her face reddened. Laughing, she reached out to pinch my mouth. "Shameless hussy, where did you learn such lewd words?"
The letter was sealed with wax, and I went personally to find the Second Young Master, Cao Junlei, to ask him to pass it to Young Master Fan.
Because ever since the Mid-Autumn banquet last time, Young Master Fan had not come again.
Once, I went to the Second Young Master's courtyard to find him.
Fuming came out and said, "The Second Young Master is writing large characters in his study. He told Sister Duo'er to go over herself."
Led by Fuming, I arrived at the Second Young Master's study. Fuming gently knocked on the door, and a voice came from within: "Enter."
Fuming opened the door and, after I entered, quietly withdrew.
Although the study door was not closed, only the Second Young Master and I were inside. I stood uneasily by the doorway. He raised his head from the paper and smiled. "What? Do I need to invite you three or five times? Come in. What is it?"
I lowered my eyes, walked over while staring at my toes, and placed the letter on the edge of the desk. "I must trouble the Second Young Master again. My missus says that when your birthday comes, she will prepare a grand gift for you."
For a long while there was no sound. I looked up in surprise and found the Second Young Master supporting his left arm with his right hand, his left thumb propping up his chin, watching me with great interest. My face flushed. "Does the Second Young Master have any other instructions? This servant must return to report."
"Tsk, tsk." He shook his head. "Is working by Third Sister's side very hard? I remember the first few times I saw you. Although you called yourself a servant, your bearing was self-possessed, and your eyes were bold and natural when you looked at others. What exactly did Third Sister do to you to make you learn an entire set of servile mannerisms...?"
I cut him off coldly: "What sort of talk is this from the Second Young Master? I was originally a servant! If the Second Young Master has nothing else, this servant takes her leave."
I turned to leave and heard him say from behind, "Now that's more like it! Don't be angry. I merely wanted you to speak and interact with me as you did before."
He blocked my path. Seeing my cold face, he cupped his hands and smiled. "I apologize. Are you really angry?"
I raised my eyes and glared at him. "Who are 'you and I'? This servant also doesn't know what 'speaking and interacting as before' even means."
He was startled for a moment, then laughed aloud. "The ancients said that only women and petty men are hard to care for. How true. I merely said one thing about you, and you turn your face and deny our acquaintance."
I ground my teeth in anger, but then, turning the thought around, I smiled instead. "Indeed. The next line is that being close leads to disrespect, while distance leads to resentment. Some people are just like this—when others treat them intimately, they don't know modesty and courtesy; when others distance themselves, they harbor resentment. Truly a petty man."
His expression shifted repeatedly. I regretted my words the moment I spoke them, fearing he would truly become angry. Although this Second Young Master of the Cao family was open-minded and easygoing, no one would ever call him a "petty man" to his face.
Just as I was feeling uneasy, he sighed helplessly and smiled lightly. "I truly concede to you. Very well, from now on I won't dare offend you again. Come here, grind ink for me. I'll tell you something important."