Chapter 9

Old Madam Chen had never met such a talkative little girl. This biddable one had eight larks' tongues in her mouth: reasons came rattling out of her, bak-bak-bak, most of which the old woman couldn't follow at all.

She just watched the girl point at the mountains behind them: "Granny! This mountain here beside us is called Mount Baiquan. Mount Baiquan divides north and south, and between them there's been but one road to Yanjing since ancient times: past Qingfeng and fifty li on into Yanjing's east gate.

"As for which armies hold the remaining west, south, and north gates, we don't know, and it's no concern of ours. Only, for right now — you say the army's to move out on military orders? That makes no sense!"

The old woman shot back offhand: "How's it make no sense?"

Qi Qian'er gave her yellow-thatched head a wobble: "It doesn't add up! At a time like this, with the dynasty already changed up ahead — you say we're to move, but which army's marching? Marching where? March any further forward and you're right up under the gates of Yanjing."

The old woman wobbled her neck at Qi Qian'er and blinked.

Qi Qian'er wobbled her neck too, and blinked back.

"Granny, the banner up front, as I saw it, is the Tan; but the city that fell flies a Li banner with a flying-tiger design. If that's so, then for the Tan banner to move would mean marching into Qingfeng to snatch the war-merit — and in an army camp that counts as a big to-do. So which are we, in the end: the central army, or the vanguard camp?"

This was men's talk; the old woman couldn't follow it, so she gave a cough and said nothing.

Qi Qian'er went on: "By the rules in the histories, a change of dynasty is an extraordinary time. The ones entering Yanjing now ought to be the new Emperor's own guard... and the new Emperor, his venerable self, is surnamed Li, while the house we follow is surnamed Tan? If that's how it is, then there's no moving at all — do you see? There's a great taboo buried in it!"

This the old woman followed even less; her whole mind was overshadowed by a few dreadful grand words — since ancient times, the histories, the Emperor, the imperial guard! Oh, and: a change of dynasty.

At a loss, she asked, almost pleading to be taught: "Then — then where do we go?"

Qi Qian'er spread her hands: "How would I know? If there are still remnants of the old dynasty about, then troops would be sent to stamp them out; and to march on a mopping-up campaign you'd have to move fast — you'd go on horseback, and you couldn't very well drag along an infirmary camp, or womenfolk like us, now could you?"

The old woman asked, as if seeking confirmation: "Right — right?"

Qi Qian'er nodded: "Right! There's no moving."

The old woman, all a-tremble: "Truly — truly?"

"Mm! Truly! That's how the reasoning ought to go." And here Qi Qian'er even took her to task: "You'll have to watch your mouth from now on — things are different. 'Rebel army,' indeed! We don't count as the rebel army anymore. It's the new dynasty now; those of the old one count as the remnants — they're the rebels! Don't you go running your mouth outside, it's a lose-your-head matter!"

Oh — a lose-your-head matter again. The old woman's face went white, and she said, a little abashed: "It was just a slip of the tongue, is all."

She was one for muddled logic, and faced with sound reasoning like this, she felt herself in the wrong from the start.

The old woman had no great learning, but she had her little calculations, and by now she'd reckoned it out: the Chen ancestors of eight generations must have burned some high-grade incense, for the family had truly welcomed home an ancestor this time — and from here on she'd never keep the upper hand over this thin-haired girl.

What to do?

Enshrine her! She'd simply have to enshrine her!

At that thought the old woman grew softer still and asked for guidance: "Then — then, girl, good girl, you're one of our own family now — so what are we to do from here on?"

Qi Qian'er, all innocence: "Mm, I don't really know either. But going by what's written in the books, whenever a new dynasty's just founded, the Emperor generally has to take a muster of the people..."

The old woman nearly choked to death on her own spit; she coughed a few times before asking: "What's a muster of the people?"

Qi Qian'er explained: "It just means sizing up, reckoning up, how much silver and how much land each household has, that's all."

This the old woman understood.

She slapped her thigh, pleased: "That I know! Our Grand Commandant's always been dirt-poor!"

At that Qi Qian'er burst out laughing.

"That's just it — even the Emperor's flat broke now. Marching a whole army means grain and fodder and silver; and they'd take us along on top of that? Not a chance!"

The old woman nodded like she was fawning at someone's feet: "Isn't it just, isn't it just! Your Scabby hasn't sent anything back in three months now — they say there's no pay-silver to be had over there, and up at the front it's all down to the various general-lords leading the troops to figure it out themselves, feeding their own armies! You mustn't breathe a word of this outside, understand?"

The old woman did have an army hand's knowledge, though, and there wasn't a word wrong in what she said.

Had the old dynasty not been dirt-poor, it wouldn't have fallen into chaos the moment disaster struck; and had the realm not fallen into chaos, it would never have come to the dirt-poor new Emperor's turn to take the throne.

Qi Qian'er nodded: "I don't know a soul — who would I tell? So the new Emperor has to muster the people first, and only then settle the internal government and steady the people's hearts.

"You wouldn't know it, but Qingfeng over there was wrecked by Heaven, smashed all full of pits and hollows, and the well-water in the city shifted its veins and dried up. You're old and you've seen the world — don't people follow the water?"

The old woman nodded: "Isn't that so — even marching and pitching camp you have to follow the water, don't you; never mind people, even the livestock need to drink."

There it was — that was exactly the line she wanted.

Qi Qian'er crouched down, stroked the old woman's hand, and said cozily: "That's just the reasoning of it, Granny. Think about it — however they move, they can't very well send us off to a place with no water-veins, can they... So even if you wanted to go now, there's no going."

The old woman grew a little flustered, looking left and right — could she really not believe she was about to put down roots in this hamlet?

Why was her heart so unsettled about it?

"Truly — truly no moving on?"

Qi Qian'er nodded: "If I've got it right, no moving on. I'm a local, born and bred — I'll tell you, there are two water-veins near Qingfeng; that one's been cut off, and the one that's left is right here on our side..."

Before she'd finished, the old woman shot to her feet with a whoosh. She hopped over to the wall to look left and right, and only after looking trotted back to ask Qi Qian'er: "Truly?"

Qi Qian'er nodded firmly: "Truly!"

In that instant — Heaven had truly opened its eyes. Old Madam Chen was sure golden light was streaming off the top of her gate: if her family didn't come into a great fortune now, it would be an insult to all the years of suffering she'd borne.

Looking at scrawny little Qi Qian'er, Old Madam Chen just loved her — loved her beyond all bearing — and thought: this yellow hair, all golden and glittering, how did it get to be so lovely?

Her body trembled a little; she groaned a few times and steadied herself against the stone table before thinking: they all say my fate's too hard, that I doomed my own sons and grandsons — nonsense! It was purely that the Chen family's luck wasn't enough to receive this girl, so a few lives had to be laid down to pave her road to the clouds.

If not for her — hmph! — this girl could never have come.

Just look, just listen! The things this girl says — that's men's talk, the big-principle talk of men!

Such a fine girl, and she'd got her for a bargain — what good deeds had the Chen family done to marry her in? If not for her, could they ever have betrothed such a sweet little thing?

At that thought the old woman took the fire-striker from her waist, lit her pipe-bowl off the flint, puffed away a few times with a smile, and her mind began to reckon and scheme.

Well, since there'd be no moving on, tomorrow she'd have to take a stroll about this hamlet and do some reckoning...

Qi Qian'er said nothing, only stood quietly and waited.

She waited until the old woman turned up her jacket, dug a few dried taro chips out of the innermost belly-band, and, ever so fondly, gave them all to her.

Mm — that was more like it.

Old Madam Chen's face was all encouragement, afraid Qi Qian'er wouldn't eat: "Girl, you're hungry, aren't you? Eat this to tide you over. Tonight — tonight there'll be something good besides. Girl... what was your name again?"

Qi Qian'er took the dried taro in both hands, thanked her, and only then answered: "Granny, I'm the seventh in my family; my formal name's Huo Qiqian — you just call me Qi Qian'er."

Every mouthful of food this old woman had was scrimped from between her own teeth, so Qi Qian'er had to eat it in earnest, as a kindness received.

Food, these days, was life itself.

Seeing her accept it, the old woman was content, and pulled her closer, chattering more fondly still: "Say, Qi Qian'er... how do you know all this — the, the Emperor and the water-veins and whatnot you were just talking about? Don't tell me your father really was that — that top-of-the-exams?"

That said, she caught up Qi Qian'er's claw-like, callus-covered hand and looked it over and over: "But... but it doesn't look like it?"

Qi Qian'er drew her hand back and, cupping the dried taro in both hands, bit into it — she was a bit hungry — and as she ate, offhandedly she gave the lie to Madam Wang's flattering fibs: "You listened to Madam's nonsense — my father a scholar, a juren, top of the exams, indeed! Whatever the dynasty, the top graduates are a fixed and countable few; don't you go saying that outside tomorrow, you'll only be laughed at! My father... hah, I never even called him Father — he used to manage an imperial estate for the old dynasty's royal house, that's all."

"What!"

At that the old woman started, so frightened she nearly wet herself.

Of course Qi Qian'er knew what she was afraid of, and quickly took hold of her: "Don't be frightened, it's nothing! My father's dead! And even alive, he was only a legs-and-muscle errand-runner before. Never mind that the Emperor's only just taken the throne and has no time for such small fry — even if there were accounts to settle, would they be traced to him? That father of mine — Master Huo, I mean — wasn't even an official!"

Her heart couldn't take the fright and the start of it, and the old woman's hands trembled a little.

Qi Qian'er pressed on, weightier now: "Think about it. If the landlord back in your village got into trouble in the city, the county magistrate would only have the landlord's blood-kin arrested — at worst sweep up the whole pot of relatives and friends — but there's no sense in hauling in the tenant farmers too; it wouldn't even be worth the grain to feed them."

This reasoning the old woman did understand, though she still turned it over carefully — and thinking it through, mm, that was so: if the landlord got into trouble, what was it to do with the tenant farmers?

Qi Qian'er turned her face to her: "Besides, I'm not on their family register, so there's no tracing me. You've seen Madam — do I look anything like a daughter of that house? My mother..." Qi Qian'er looked at her own two hands: "My mother was sold off by Madam long ago, and she wouldn't have it — the moment she was out of the manor, she threw herself in the river and died."

When Qi Qian'er spoke of the river, the old woman's heart twisted with wave after wave of pain — she thought of the Chen family's women, and the pale corpses sprawled along the old riverbed...

Nobody had it easy.

Raising a hand to thump at her chest a few times, the old woman sniffed, and took up a dried taro chip too and bit off a few mouthfuls; chewing hard, she said viciously: "Those were wicked people — wicked!" Then she turned, eyes brimming with tears, and smiled at Qi Qian'er: "The wicked have got their comeuppance! Girl, I'll be good to you from now on! From here on it'll be just us two, the pair of us paying no mind to anyone else — just us two, close. All right?"

She patted the back of Qi Qian'er's hand, one pat after another, until Qi Qian'er's heart all but went soft with it.

Why did I ever hate her? Qi Qian'er couldn't make sense of it. Why did I hate her? She wanted to cry, and in the end the tears did fall.

At her ear came the old woman's soft chatter: "I feel for you, don't I? I'm on my own too now — the two of us will do fine from here on. So long as Granny's got a mouthful, there'll surely be a share for you. You — you poor bitter girl, life this hard on you, and still so capable, how? Look how sharp you are — who did you learn it all from?"

Yes — who had she learned it from? From a whole flood of blood and tears, from a lifetime of swallowed grievance.

Qi Qian'er drew her hand back and rubbed her eyes: "This — do you know what sort of people they generally use on an imperial estate?"

Naturally the old woman didn't know.

"On an imperial estate, now..." Qi Qian'er looked at the spirit-wall before her, at the brick carving of the Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea. "In the old days there were always noble houses that came to grief in the capital... When a master's family lost its luck and was stripped of its goods and sent into exile, the older stewards and bookkeepers of the household, the ones who couldn't be sold off, would be packed off to the imperial estates to do hard labor. From the time I was old enough to understand, I did the odd jobs alongside them — whatever bit of skill or knowledge I've got, I learned from them too."

The old woman thought it over carefully, and believed it.

She nodded in admiration: "Folk from near the imperial city, right enough — well taught, well taught! A person's got to learn a bit of something to carry them through. Never mind anyone else — just take that lightning-blasted one of ours, oh! the one you saw just now: your fourth uncle bought her, later on... bought her, she was."

She held up four fingers.

Qi Qian'er's hand around the taro loosened for a moment, then tightened again; she said lightly, with a smile: "Bought, was she?"

The old woman nodded firmly: "Isn't she just! Truly bought! She's an unlucky one too, she is — born with a pretty face, but she went and married a man who couldn't hold up a household. Later on... someone powerful took a fancy to her, and trumped up a pretext to throw her first-nest husband in jail. And as luck would have it — the Chen ancestors laid up no good deeds — that unlucky fourth uncle of yours, the year he stormed the government office with the rest, met the poor wretch in the prison.

"The wretch wanted out, so he begged your fourth uncle: he had a good-looking wife at home, and if only your uncle would get him out, he'd hand her over... ai! It was in the wrong, that's what it was. Like I always say, you mustn't take advantage of another man's straits — and sure enough it brought its comeuppance: she was never of one heart with us from the very start, and for all we know she hates us in her heart to this day."

The old woman had never brought this up before.

The old woman pursed her lips: "Hmph. So the man took your fourth uncle to her house, and your uncle took one look and fancied her on the spot; and seeing the family ruined and half dead — two of the three children from her first nest already starved — your uncle, well, what of the world had he ever seen? He's a fool too. So he gave them two hundred jin of millet, and repaired their house besides, and that's how he brought her home. Now you tell me — if that's not buying, then what is it?"

Qi Qian'er picked up the taro and bit off a big piece in one go.

The old woman went on: "She's a hateful sort, full of scheming, but that embroidery of hers... you've never seen the like. She'll stitch a little bird, and every feather's alive." The old woman made a mirror-round circle with her hands at Qi Qian'er: "This big — they say in peacetime it sold to the embroidery shops in the city, several hundred cash a piece! And she's a good hand at cutting, too — a whole gown without marking a line, all done by eye, and finished in a day!

"At the time I wasn't pleased about it, but then I thought again: with a skill like hers, sooner or later the fourth would have children of his own, and once the young ones learned it, they'd never be made to live badly in their husbands' houses — having a craft or not, that's two different things! Isn't that right, girl?"

Qi Qian'er nodded.

Seeing her expression unmoved, the old woman quickly added: "You pay her no mind — she's no match for you. That one... she's a thief who steals inward to feed the outside: those children of her first nest live off what she scrapes out of our house, and she's forever making it up to that lot! Any good thing the fourth and the others turn up, she smuggles it back to them on the sly — else I'd never be so worked up about it. Ai! No good deeds laid up by the ancestors — your fourth uncle's done for."

That said, the old woman thumped at her own chest a few more times.

Qi Qian'er didn't want to talk about Madam Qiao; one glance too many at her turned her stomach.

By now she'd come to feel the old woman's good side. Though — anything good that happened to the Chen family was the Chen ancestral graves smoking with good omen for having brought her in; and anything bad was the ancestors' want of good deeds, the comeuppance of a caved-in grave-mound...

Whatever else, this old woman was true at heart, and saw further than the run of old women.

A pity that not one of her sons and grandsons could see the good in her.

Sad at heart, she turned the talk aside and asked the old woman: "Is that so, Granny. But I wonder — what grade of general is my — my husband? If he's fifth grade, maybe we really could make it up to the capital."

Aiya, this girl — shameless, really — "husband," indeed; a man's a man, just say man.

The old woman wanted to laugh and was embarrassed both, and lowered her head; a good while later, half a bowl of tobacco puffed away to nothing, she finally lifted her head as if throwing caution to the winds: "Hah! What would I know of that! He goes about in the army, and when he's out and about, everyone who sees him has to call him General, General, respectful-like... isn't that so?"

Qi Qian'er tugged at the corner of her mouth and nodded: "...Is that so, Granny? And if he's not a general, then I wonder what his official post is? Surely it's got a name?"

The old woman choked on the smoke, coughed a good while, dragged a gob of thick phlegm up from the bottom of her throat, spat it viciously on the ground, and said, rather like a rascal: "A general's a general, and if he's not, he's not. What of it? He's not a general and now you're not willing?"

Qi Qian'er jerked her head back fast to dodge the flying spittle: "What are you imagining? We've got the marriage contract already — even if he were short an arm and a leg, would I dare not marry him now? I won't go into it deep with you; let's keep it shallow — take just our living in this courtyard..."

She stood, drew the old woman out through the gate, pointed at the two square bat-carved stone piers at the courtyard entrance, then at the four door-pillars above the gate, and said: "Do you know what these are?"

Old Madam Chen curled her lip, all scorn: "Aren't these just gate-piers? The landlord's house back in our village had these too — just not so fancy, is all."

Qi Qian'er didn't laugh at that; she herself hadn't come to any sense until she was past forty.

She pointed at the steps before them and explained to the old woman: "Granny, there are some things you'll want to keep in mind from now on. Old dynasty or new, whichever Emperor sits the throne — the rules of governance, the laws and the military orders change with every generation. But there's one thing that no Emperor, whoever he is, dares overstep."

The old woman was lost again.

Qi Qian'er knew she hadn't followed, but patiently explained all the same: "Granny, this thing that can't be changed is called the rites and law — it's the dignity, the very face, of every official under heaven! The rites and law are rules laid down by the sages of old, and it's written in them that the Emperor may have only one Empress and one crown prince: he can't take two Empresses, can't install two crown princes. You see now?"

The old woman did not see!

And said, a bit unconvinced: "All this you're saying, I don't know it! What's it got to do with these gate-piers?"

Qi Qian'er raised an eyebrow and pointed at the steps before them: "The rites and law lay it down that every official's residence follows a set code. Any main gate with a lintel, like this courtyard's, with its two square gate-piers — that marks a civil official's house. Even if your grandson were a general, he still couldn't set up gate-piers like these at his own door."

The old woman looked left and right — and gave a gate-pier a good kick.