Chapter 8: 8

The courtyard door creaked, announcing Da-Tian’s return. Xie Yilu struggled out of his den of blankets to sit up with his back leaning straight against the headboard.

Ten days had passed since his injury. He could already get out of bed and walk around. According to the doctor who had treated him, although he had bled profusely, all of his wounds were superficial. Indeed, he was cut a dozen or so times but none of them were life-threatening. The cut across his throat was even more of a joke — a pale pinkish-red line was all that remained of it now.

He was unconscious for the entirety of the first two days. During that time, men from the Ministry took turns visiting him. Moreover, many of the local Nanjing gentry and civilians saw him as a hero who petitioned on behalf of the people and just like that, the name ‘Xie Yilu’ was catapulted into fame. 

Da-Tian pushed open the door and entered. It was raining outside so half of his upper body was wet. He shook his shirt and pulled out a piece of paper from his collar. “Master, I’ve retrieved it, but there’s nothing written here.” 

Xie Yilu took the proffered paper and scanned over it. Sure enough, it was blank with not a single character to be seen.

He sighed. Since he was the one who missed the meeting, it was understandable why his penfriend might have sent him a blank piece of paper as an insult. “Brush,” he reached out a hand at Da-Tian, “the one with the mottled bamboo handle.” 

Da-Tian went to his study but since he did not know any “mottled bamboo handle”, he simply brought the entire brush container over along with the inkslab. Xie Yilu poured a little of the sugar water by his bedside onto the slab and dipped into the remaining ink to write two characters in running script1: Extremely ill. 

Da-Tian asked, “Master, do I… have to take this back?”

“Thanks for your trouble.” Blushing, Xie Yilu fanned the letter, folded it and handed it over.

Da-Tian was a little unwilling. “Fine. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He helped Xie Yilu lie down. “You don’t know, but outside’s a chaotic mess crawling with soldiers. They’ve arrested some people but the civilians aren’t cowed and won’t accept it. I’m afraid they might riot.”

Xie Yilu’s mind leapt into alertness. “Arrested people? Why?”

“Why else if not to cut the pygmy pear trees,” Da-Tian said as he walked towards the door. “Now, it’s not the Imperial Weaving Bureau that’s cutting trees but the Zhejiang Army.” Once he was beneath the eaves, he opened an umbrella and continued towards the courtyard gate while saying, “Soldiers don’t care how hard your life is. If you dare to glare at them, they’ll arrest you!” 

His voice was carried adrift by the sound of the downpour and an indistinct worry began to gnaw at Xie Yilu. Not long afterwards, the sound of a voice returned. “Yeah… mind the water…” When Da-Tian reached the doorway, he shouted, “Master, His Excellency Qu is here!” 

A beaming smile appeared on Xie Yilu’s face and he struggled to push himself upright. “Why are you here everyday!”

The door opened, letting Qu Feng in. He was wearing a rather dazzling bright red, gold-embroidered gauze robe, his skin powdered and his clothes heavily scented with incense2, which cast his face in a radiant, healthy glow. “I missed you so much I couldn’t keep away, alright?” He carried himself with an air of elegance and grace as he strode over, hips swaying, and slowly sat down beside the bed. “When the Bureaus gathered to receive instructions today, the Lord Minister said that the Ministry will pay for your medicines.”

Da-Tian had left to deliver the letter as soon as he helped Xie Yilu sit up so there were only the two of them left in the room. Xie Yilu asked embarrassedly, “It’s because you pushed for it on my behalf, didn’t you?

“Who cares if I pushed for it or not,” Qu Feng patted his thin hand soothingly. “If this money isn’t given to you, then they’d have used it for food and drink.”

In his gratitude, Xie Yilu inadvertently put his own hand onto Qu Feng’s. The two men stared into each other’s eyes, both of them feeling a little awkward. Xie Yilu interrupted: “What were you doing that warranted such such magnificent dress?” 

“What could I have been doing?” Qu Feng smiled, subtly withdrawing his hand. “I accompanied my wife back to her family. It’s father’s birthday so they fussed around for half the day.” 

“Oh, I forgot,” Xie Yilu asked, “the Zhejiang Army arrested people?” He leaned his body across the bed. “No one said anything in the Ministry?” 

Qu Feng also leaned in. “Speaking of this, it’s really quite strange.” He shifted the pillow a little to make it more comfortable for Xie Yilu to lean on. “Zhejiang sent soldiers into Nanjing without any authorisation, yet the Ministry of War hasn’t said a word about it.” 

Xie Yilu knew that this was all Mei A’Cha’s doing; he had informed the Lord Minister about this the night he called on the Ministry. “How’s the cutting progressing?” 

“Almost done now. There won’t be a single tree left before the end of this month.”

Xie Yilu’s expression grew sombre. Qu Feng knew what was weighing heavily on his heart so he teased good-naturedly, “Missed the meeting, eh?” He extended his little finger from his sleeve and poked Xie Yilu in the chest. “Liuman Hill, Xiaolao Spring.” 

Xiie Yilu smiled very bashfully and shook his head. 

“It’s better that you didn’t meet,” Qu Feng’s gaze flitted over his bruised and battered face, “Women like that are all burdens you can’t shake off.” 

Xie Yilu looked out of the window at the drizzling rain and did not speak.

Xie Yilu received a reply by the next day: I3 am thinking of thee. 

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The sight of those five words left him speechless for a long time. It was as if the southerly breeze of summer had picked up the scent of blooming gardenias, or if an unstoppable flood of hot blood had rushed to his heart. He immediately replied: Three day’s time, beyond Liuman Hill at Xiaolao Spring. 

Thinking over it, he added another sentence: We shall meet, no matter what. 

Da-Tian was still the one to deliver the letter and the receiver quickly agreed. 

When the agreed day came, Xie Yilu dressed in a black crepe gauze zhiduo and brought along the “Thou art the boat and oar” fan. Da-Tian called for a carriage and nagged on endlessly as he helped Xie Yil aboard. “Going out before your body recovers properly, that place is so bloody remote, what if something happens…”

Xie Yily did not know whether to laugh or cry: “Why can’t you wish me well?” 

Da-Tian instructed the driver to depart. The whip cracked and he stood outside the carriage shed, whispering “Look at that face of yours. What woman could take a fancy to you?”

The horse began to walk and Xie Yilu raised the carriage curtain. “Who said I’m going to see a woman?”

Da-Tian mumbled to himself as he returned home, his short form slowly growing distant. Xie Yilu was angry but he could do nothing about it. Once the cloth curtain was lowered, he suddenly felt a little embarrassed. He forced himself to straighten his face but in the end, he still could not help but smile. 

The journey was not short; he left from the city east, travelling through the entirety of Nanjing until he reached the opposite side of the city, yet Liuman Hill was still further west. The driver was silent the entire journey so Xie Yilu leaned against the carriage window in apprehension. He had been travelling for about a shichen when the driver knocked on the carriage shaft: “Sir4, we’re here. May I trouble you to step down and walk the last leg yourself?”

Xiaolao Spring was nestled in the depths of a patch of willow trees that the horse carriage could not enter; of course, even if it could, the driver would not. Xie Yilu strolled at a leisurely pace since his body still ached when he walked too quickly. He followed the current upstream, delighted by the mottled light spilling from the treetops and the murmuring of spring water. Suddenly, he stopped, for there was a person standing at the foot of the grassy hill before him. 

It was a man, and Xie Yilu could not tell if he was relieved or disappointed so he did not call out rashly. The man was wearing a simple white lanshan5 and no hat, his long hair bound casually with fashionable red string to hang and flutter behind his head6. 

It’s him, it should be him. Xie Yilu scanned the surroundings and saw that there was no one else here. He wanted to descend the hill towards him, but just as he took the first step, the other person turned around to look in his direction. He had a snow-white face, his eyes sparkling with intelligence under thin double eyelids, his lips like those oft seen on Buddha statues, not quite enough to be called ‘beautiful’ but certainly plump and smooth. The wind picked up, blowing over a gust of sandalwood fragrance. 

 Xie Yilu stood there in a daze, his hands clenched into motionless fists. The buzzing in his brain would not stop and even his breathing had become sluggish. Last time at Zhebo Chan Temple, Xie Yilu had looked up at him from the bottom of the stairs. This time, their situations were reversed and it was him who now looked down from the heights. Like him, Liao Jixiang was also staring up in shock, his gaze locking onto the pale pink line on Xie Yilu’s neck and the ugly bruises swelling up his face in blues and greens — all the results of his behest. 

Neither spoke for a long time. 

All of sudden, Xie Yilu turned around indignantly and, gritting his teeth against the pain, sprinted away in the direction that he came in.

Translator’s Notes

This was a very short chapter so there’s no history to discuss. Having said that, I just returned from a trip to Nanjing which was specifically for the purpose of taking photos of things and places that appear in this novel. I’ll be posting these photos gradually, but I thought that I would share the pictures I took at Shence Gate (the gate that Xie Yilu was almost sent to lead troops at in Chapter 4).

Shence Gate (神策门) is situated on northern side of the Ming city wall of Nanjing. It was one of the smaller and less frequently used gates due to its remote location and its proximity to the Back Lake (now Xuanwu Lake), which was a restricted area used to store household and tax registries (called Huang Ce or Yellow Register).

The gate was first built during the 9th year of Hongwu (1376) and was named “Gate of Divine Strategy”. During the Qing Dynasty in the 16th year of Shunzhi (1659), it was renamed to Desheng Gate (得胜门), meaning “Gate of Achieving Victory”. It was renamed again in 1929 during the Republic of China period to Heping Gate (和平门), meaning “Gate of Peace”.

This is the view of the inner gate from inside the city walls. Shence Gate is the only gate to have a pre-Republic era gate tower, but this dates from the Qing Dynasty. However, the bricks used to construct the gate and walls are Ming originals since they have legible inscriptions left by the brickmakers.

Beyond the inner gate is a barbican. This layout is designed so that invaders can be trapped in the open area between the inner and outer gates, at which point defenders can projectiles onto them from the walls.

This is the view of the outer gate from outside the barbican. Note the inscription above the gate is “Heping Gate” since it dates to 1929.

 

Footnotes

1.  行书, a style of calligraphy that is halfway between regular (楷书) and cursive (草书). Can be thought of as ‘semi-cursive’. Visual reference. 

2. Rather than scenting the body with perfume, incense was used to fumigate clothing to achieve the same result. 

3. 吾, archaic and literary “I”. 

4. 客官, a dated polite address for customers. 

5. 襕衫, a type of men’s robe characterised by border trims in a different colour. It was most commonly worn and associated with scholars. Visual reference. 

6. This is exceptional artistic licence from the author since it was considered extremely rude and improper for adult men to not wear a hat and to not have one’s hair in a topknot. 

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