Chapter 27

For the first time, Zhuo Siheng had a house of his own.

Though the title to it, of course, might be in the emperor's hands.

But under all Heaven, whose house's title wasn't the emperor's?

Thinking of it that way, he felt remarkably at peace about it, took the land deed from the officials of the Court of the Palace Treasury, and made straight for the new house with Fan Xiliang.

His new home was in a very good location: from outside the palace city, straight along Zhuque Avenue a stretch, then turning into Junyi Bridge Street and doubling back a little to Youye Street — very close to the Secretariat, where he'd work in future. Zhuo Siheng reckoned it up: he could probably walk to work in about twenty minutes each day.

But no sooner had he said this than his cousin vetoed it, saying his own family lived even closer to the Court of State Ceremonial where his father worked, yet the old man always took a sedan chair to attend to business — because to walk down the main street on foot in official robe and boots would be far too much a disgrace to a gentleman's dignity.

Zhuo Siheng couldn't quite make an effective connection between "a disgrace to gentlemanly dignity" and "getting some exercise on the way to work," but as a newcomer to the workplace it was better not to stick out too oddly, so he dropped the notion.

Perhaps because the location was so excellent, the small, brand-new Zhuo residence was surrounded by the mansions of official families: those living before and behind and to either side were ministers if not marquises and earls, all with vast gates that would gladly have swallowed half a street; but the road happened to double back into a small slanting angle just where his house was, planted with a jumble of nameless trees, setting apart a single courtyard some way off from the main road.

The courtyard's small main gate opened onto the inner lane, facing no one and crowding no one, its green walls and dark-gray tiles pretty and plain — far smaller than the households beside it, but to Zhuo Siheng already enormous.

Inside the gate was a small entry court paved with border-bricks, with a well and trees, half-ringed by a "short" gallery, and a kitchen at its end; passing through, one came to the main courtyard — only one bay wide, but with a great deal of space inside, enough that, partitioned, it could yield a separate room; and to left and right were spacious, bright wing-rooms, with a small separate side-room on the west.

The best surprise was that behind the main courtyard lay a small yard some seven or eight zhang square — no rockery, no water, but already laid out as a garden, so that with a few trees planted it could gladden the heart. In the middle of the garden stood a small structure — not quite a pavilion, not quite a room — such as Zhuo Siheng had never seen. Knowing he'd always lived in the north and had never seen the residences of Zhongjing Prefecture, at the very center of the realm, Fan Xiliang explained in detail: "This is called a cool pavilion; the ring around it that's neither wall nor window is really removable bright-lattice panels — take them off in summer and it's airy and cool inside, and in winter, if you use it, put them back and hang a ring of curtains within. You've spent a winter in the capital too, Cousin — it's not so cold here; two or three snows a year at most, only sometimes the north wind bites."

Zhuo Siheng hadn't known there was such a sophisticated arrangement; this little room was no more than three or four zhang across, yet held so many design secrets, and paired with the garden outside was truly a work of ingenious craft.

The gloom of yesterday, when the road ahead was uncertain, had been dispelled; now his heart was full of anticipation, and he couldn't help sharing with his cousin how he'd arrange the rooms: when the family came, the main room would go to Old Huyan, he and Xiheng would share one wing-room, Huiheng and Ciheng the other, and he and the family would do their everyday reading here in the cool pavilion.

Fan Xiliang thought it sounded good too, and was all the happier for Zhuo Siheng; but he seemed to remember something, and drew his cousin down to sit on the nearby steps of the cool pavilion, and asked: "Cousin, you treat me as one of your own family, so let me ask a question only family would ask."

"Go on," said Zhuo Siheng — who of course regarded him just like his own younger brother.

Fan Xiliang said with a worried look, "You told me before that Cousin Huiheng is already eighteen — why is she... not yet promised to anyone? Was it delayed by that bitter, cold land of Shuozhou?"

This was a question Zhuo Siheng really didn't know how to explain.

He knew, of course, that here a girl had to marry at sixteen or seventeen, but he himself found it hard to accept; yet for his sister's good, it was still for him to adapt to his surroundings, rather than stubbornly hold to his own view and so bring hardship on his family instead.

But Huiheng's case was more complicated, and he didn't hide it from Fan Xiliang — indeed he hoped the other might help him think it over — so he told the family matter out in full: "When my father was alive, he'd thought that if there were an honest, hardworking son of some plain, decent family in Xingshan Township, or a virtuous daughter, he'd have us each marry, without waiting for me to win a degree. But Xingshan Township had no more than twenty or thirty households, and few people at that; at my age I fell between stools, and I was set on my studies and didn't much mind about it either... so it can't really be called a delay. For my sister Huiheng, there were in fact a few young men of suitable age, and my father did consider it at the time; but Huiheng is in poor health and can't manage housework or farm work, and in the countryside it's very hard to arrange a match on those terms. My father understood it in his heart, and put the idea aside; before he died he charged me over and over to take good care of my second sister — that even if I won a degree and office and she'd found no good match, I was not to marry her off carelessly for the sake of my prospects or anything else, still less to slight an unmarried sister at home."

In truth no one knew Zhuo Siheng's nature better than Zhuo Yan, who knew he was not that sort of man; but by then his father's lamp was burning dry, and the one he worried over and loved most was the frail, sickly Huiheng — how could he close his eyes in peace without making some arrangement?

Zhuo Siheng had grown up learning his characters and his books alongside Huiheng, and the bond between brother and sister went without saying. One thing that had always depressed him was that Huiheng's gift for study was no less than his own — first-rate in learning, and steady and upright in character — only, being a girl, she could not sit for a degree.

Sometimes he let his mind wander naively, even wishing Huiheng could cross over to the place he'd come from, where his sister taking first in the province's arts-track exam would surely be no trouble at all.

And he'd always felt that marriage should come only after two hearts were willing and feelings had been nurtured, and that to let his sister marry some stranger in a muddle would be far too hasty. But this was his habitual way of thinking, utterly out of step with the present age; if he really let his sisters go out and find love freely, their reputations would be ruined past all repair.

It came back to the same thing: in the matter of marriage, it was he who had to adapt to the age.

Of course these thoughts were not for telling Fan Xiliang; he could only sigh over them within himself.

Having heard him out, Fan Xiliang was worried for his cousin too, and couldn't help urging Zhuo Siheng: "Cousin, you're no longer a commoner now; while you mustn't wrong our cousins, you mustn't let it drag on either. I'll help look for suitable families too — even if Cousin Huiheng is frail, Cousin Ciheng is already fifteen!"

His cousin's thinking was very much in tune with the age; as an elder brother he naturally worried over his sisters' ages and marriages — it was his responsibility. Zhuo Siheng was grateful, and couldn't very well press his own way of thinking on him, so he only said, "All right, but don't go spreading it about — just keep a quiet eye out. Besides, your own office will be handed down soon; word of it should come any day now. I'll certainly take our sisters' matters to heart — but your future matters too."

Whenever the subject turned to himself, Fan Xiliang would wilt, with none of the careful attentiveness he showed in planning for others, only some muddled, at-a-loss words: "I don't really know how it'll go... I've asked around; a result like mine, neither high nor low — staying in the capital would probably mean a post in some small office, while a posting out could make me a county magistrate, but that would likely be very far from home... I don't know which would suit, either. Before, when my father asked me my plans, I told him the truth, and got a scolding for it..."

After a moment's thought Zhuo Siheng asked, "Didn't your father say what he hoped for from you?"

Fan Xiliang shook his head dejectedly. "At first he said nothing; after he'd heard me out and given me a good cursing, he said never mind, he'd ask his old superior to find me some small post in the capital — not that he expected much of a future from me, only that I might be more help to the family."

As Zhuo Siheng knit his brows, thinking where the trouble in it lay, Fan Xiliang, seeing him silent so long, went on: "It's less that my father has hopes for me than that he'd settle for not being disappointed. He and my stepmother both think well of my younger brother, and I do feel, truly, that I'm not as clever as he is."

Zhuo Siheng knew this cousin of his was about to withdraw into himself again, and hurried to pat him on the shoulder, ordering his words a moment before he spoke: "Cousin, in this world petty cleverness is always the easier thing to notice, but true great wisdom can only be discovered by keeping close company with a person. And if one won't keep close company, how is one ever to know these merits hidden within a person's conduct? Junior though I am, after hearing you these few times and meeting them, I feel there's something amiss in how your father and his wife behave — it truly goes against the kindness an elder owes." Zhuo Siheng felt it was time to have a real, proper talk with Fan Xiliang; if he didn't make things clear now, his cousin's whole future might end up hemmed in by the troubles of that household.

Fan Xiliang smiled bitterly. "Cousin, my father doesn't like me — I've always known it. And I'm not my stepmother's own child; the human heart is made of flesh, so who can help favoring their own? Wronged as I feel in my heart, I do understand her."

But Zhuo Siheng, hearing this, shook his head in deep earnest. "It's true everyone shows favoritism — you and I would too, for all our reading of the sages; there's nothing strange in that. But favoritism and malice are two different things. I heard from Fan Yong that when your stepmother learned you often came to my mountain temple, she secretly slandered you to your father, saying you were keeping a mistress and running about everywhere and refusing to study at home. Did this happen or not?"

Fan Xiliang, earlier, afraid of disturbing Zhuo Siheng's studies, hadn't told him of this; it was Fan Yong who, unable to swallow his anger, had picked a time after the exams to pour it all out, hoping Zhuo Siheng might think of some way to help his young master. What he admired most was this cousin-young-master's ability — every time, he could get the better of the master and bring the mistress to heel — and with his counsel the young master would surely escape his present straits.

"Cousin, it's all in the past now..." Fan Xiliang hurried to smooth it over. "I told my father the truth — that I'd arranged lodging for a friend and kept going to read poetry and essays with him. Later he saw the compositions I'd written at your place — so very many of them; how could I have written them without spending the time? He reasoned it wasn't as if I'd been off carousing, so he only punished me by making me reflect on my faults in the study — no beating, and no... not much of a scolding."

Zhuo Siheng now sat up straight and proper, taking on the manner in which Zhuo Yan had taught him the ways of the world, and said in clear, measured tones: "If your stepmother hadn't done this on purpose, how could it have been twisted so far? Even if, out of favoritism and with no care for the truth, she wanted to keep you in check and hold you down, then on learning you'd gone out on your own she ought to have hauled your page-boy before your father and told him the matter might endanger the family's good name, and let him instruct and punish you — that, at least, would be for the sake of setting the household's conduct right, the thing a strict and orderly house should do. Instead she had you followed time and again, and though she knew perfectly well you were going to a Buddhist temple, she still saved it all up and laid it on thick and deliberately made a false accusation. Behavior like that can only mean she harbors malice toward you — it's no longer a question of favoritism at all."

Every word his cousin spoke was so forceful. In truth Fan Xiliang was not dull-witted — how could he not have known it? — only he'd always felt that Heaven had no pity for him, that this was simply his lot, and so it was.

Even now, all he felt was a grief and indignation hard to hold back — yet he did not hate his stepmother.

Seeing him wretched, Zhuo Siheng shifted back to his usual gentle, elder-brotherly tone, and said softly: "So, cousin — tell your father you want to seek a posting away from the capital."

"A posting away?" Fan Xiliang was taken aback. "You mean I'd go... all alone, to somewhere very far?"

Zhuo Siheng nodded firmly: "Yes. Go out alone into the wide world, to season yourself, to solve the real problems of governing, to meet more people and seek out more of the truth of things — rather than be shut in a four-walled mansion by a family that doesn't love you, wasting the breadth of your heart and your learning."

His cousin's picture of it was so stirring that, soft and timid as Fan Xiliang was, he was still a young man — how could his blood not surge and his heart not swell? Yet he still hesitated a little: "Can I... really do it?"

"Of course you can!" Zhuo Siheng said with a smile. "Cousin, your nature may be too kind and your temper a touch soft, but you have the heart and breadth of one with a great capacity for good; you're attentive, diligent, sincere and self-disciplined — as a magistrate, a father-and-mother to the people, you're sure to bring blessing to a whole region!"