Chapter 3: The Hidden Ailment

Lan Yunjin had been a mother herself; of course she understood Madam Zhang’s meaning.

It could not have been easy for Madam Zhang to speak so plainly on her son’s wedding day… to confess that Wei Xiao suffered from a hidden ailment.

The bridal chamber was already a daunting task; now she also has to consummate the marriage?

Madam Zhang’s heart was restless. She had long wished for Changyang to take a wife, and today her wish was fulfilled. His bride had been raised from childhood in the fragrance of books and propriety; she could ask for no better.

The pity was, she dared not inquire too closely into her son’s condition, nor take it upon herself to summon a physician.

Wei Xiao’s illness had not been with him from birth.

For young gentlemen of thirteen or so, it was customary to have tongfang¹ maids to serve them in such matters.

Madam Zhang, pitying her son’s years of hardship in the saddle on the battlefield, had thought to give him relaxation.

When the time came for such things, she had chosen several clever and pretty young maids from within the household, instructing the nursemaids to teach them hand-in-hand how to help Wei Xiao relax upon his return.

She had thought it was for his good—never imagining it would leave him less erectile, to this day without a single tongfang maid in his rooms.

In truth, this failure had not been spoken by the maid herself.

Madam Zhang did not know what exactly had happened that night.

The girl had wept and wailed, refusing to say more than that she had ruined the service and deserved punishment.

When Madam Zhang had probed her son indirectly, she learned only that he had suddenly developed an ailment.

As any mother would, she had worried herself sick, seeking out folk remedies and adding nourishing foods in secret to Wei Xiao’s meals.

Four years had passed without the slightest improvement.

Lan Yunjin lowered her gaze and said, “Mother, before I left home, the wet nurse instructed me in matters of the marriage bed. Though I am clumsy in such things, I understand a little. Tonight, with my husband, we will… slowly find our way.”

Hearing this, Madam Zhang was well pleased. She reflected that this was due to the Lan family’s good upbringing; she is well-taught and well-mannered.

If it had been one of Chang’an’s sharp-tongued young ladies, finding out after marriage that her husband could not share the marriage bed in full joy, she would surely have accused the General’s household of deceiving her.

Madam Zhang’s smile held a trace of bitterness. If Changyang could not win his bride’s heart tonight, the days ahead for the couple would be even harder.

“Ying-niang, if Changyang lets you suffer tonight, your mother-in-law will deal with him tomorrow.” She felt deeply in debt to this young woman who was young and yet to be left a widow in all but name. She would make it up to her a thousandfold.

Lan Yunjin gave a faint smile. “Your daughter-in-law will remember.”

The fierce sunlight slipping through the window paper grew gentle; the warmth of Chang’an was far greater than that of Luoyang.

As evening fell, Madam Zhang said, “I must go see your father-in-law; once he starts drinking, he gets easily drunk.”

Wei Xiao’s father, Wei Yi, was friends in Chang’an only with those military men who could hold their liquor. If she did not watch him, she could not rest easy.

Lan Yunjin rose to see her off, but Madam Zhang waved her down. “Ying-niang, rest here. If you are hungry, ask the xiniang to bring you something to eat.”

—

The full golden moon seemed carved into the west-facing window lattice, its light mingling with the glow of red candles.

Lan Yunjin sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the lamp on the table.

She was opposed to the consummation.

Fortunately, from Madam Zhang’s words, she had gathered that Wei Xiao could not perform—that suited her perfectly.

Even in her past life, though she had been a mother, the child had not been her own by birth. She had long since forgotten the taste of passion between man and woman. With Pei Ye, her late husband, she was no different alive than dead.

They had been polite in public, strangers in private; even holding hands had felt awkward, much less any intimate entanglement on the bed.

After Pei Ye’s death, she had taken charge of the entire Duke household. At the mere mention of the Old Madam of the Duke’s estate, outsiders would praise her as a formidable mistress.

Being called “Old Madam” had bound her to the role. She had done her best to live as such a woman should.

In time, she truly had become a white-haired, sharp-tempered old lady.

It was all about drinking tea, watching operas, blending incense, instructing grandchildren, and then resting for half a day on the bed when tired. She had lived like that until her death.

“Madam—” Yuchan came in with small, quick steps. She had just returned from the side room, where the younger maids had plied her with two cups of wine. Her brows were tinged with happiness.

Seeing her maid’s expression, Lan Yunjin smiled. “Getting along well with the girls here?”

Yuchan’s brows curved; she squinted happily. “Thanks to Madam, the young maids competed to invite me to drink.”

After speaking, Yuchan saluted the xiniang. “This servant, Yuchan, thanks you for keeping Madam company.”

The xiniang covered her mouth with a laugh. “It is my good fortune to accompany the bride in the wedding chamber.”

Just then, the door gave a faint sound.

At this hour, it could only be the groom.

The xiniang’s face grew instantly solemn. She took Yuchan out to the outer hall.

Lan Yunjin lifted the round fan, covering her face. Spending the night with a young boy was absurd.

She still had not set aside the pride of her past life.

Her mind was wrapped in old-fashioned notions, like an antique in a scholar’s study, looking down on any vase or porcelain younger than herself.

In the outer hall, the candles were extinguished; the xiniang and Yuchan left the bridal room.

Her arm was beginning to ache from holding the fan. She caught the faint scent of soapberry, with a trace of mild wine.

At the wedding feast, Wei Xiao’s brothers had remembered the importance of the night and had not plied him with drink but only a few ceremonial cups.

Wei Xiao stepped around the screen to find his new bride seated as properly as a carved wooden doll, without a spark of life.

He did not like wooden dolls.

“Isn’t it tiring to hold that fan?” Wei Xiao asked.

Lan Yunjin slowly moved the round fan aside. The blurred outline she had seen at the wedding ceremony now came into focus—a young man with a heroic bearing, hair bound in a warrior’s topknot, handsome features, and a tall, straight figure filling out the ceremonial robe.

He was not quite as she had imagined—neither coarse nor self-conscious.

Coarse was simply her ingrained impression of military men; as for self-consciousness—if a man’s… ‘that thing’ was of no use, one would expect him to shrink back in shame.

She drew back her gaze and said softly, “Not tired.”

Wei Xiao remained seated at the table, where a tray held the goblets for their wedding toast.

Lan Yunjin went to him of her own accord, and the two, without needing to speak, drained the wine together.

The liquor carried the taste of sorghum, but something else as well.

A connoisseur of fragrance and fine drink, she had tasted countless rare vintages, and her palate was quite picky.

For now, she could not place the added flavor.

It burned hot and sweet down her throat, and before long, her mouth and tongue began to warm.

The air between them grew taut.

Sensing his gaze upon her, she met it directly and said, “Husband.”

“I read the engagement letter and the records my mother gave me,” Wei Xiao said. “You have a twin sister, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied.

He referred to the documents exchanged before marriage, since the bride and groom could not meet beforehand, so accounts written by elders detailing each person’s childhood, birthdays, and notable events were given to them so they might know one another in advance.

Lan Yunjin had no recollection of what was written in her engagement letter; in the urgency of swapping places with her elder sister, she had had no time for such things.

“Husband, you’ve had a long day. Let me help you out of your robes.”

He did not allow her to undress him.

His mind was restless—years of a soldier’s routine, yet tonight he was to share a pillow with his wife.

Though he harbored no lewd intent, the slumbering desire under the fabric had already been stirred awake by the muddle of emotions.

If Lan Yunjin was still a young, sheltered girl, she might have blushed scarlet and fumbled in confusion.

When denied by him, she showed no embarrassment.

“Then shall I put out the light?” she asked, returning to the bed.

Her voice was like water, soft and flowing.

Wei Xiao said nothing, trimming the candle wick with the ceremonial dagger until the room was swallowed in darkness.

The windows were shut; he shed his wedding robes, leaving only an undershirt and trousers.

The trousers strained indecently.

Wei Xiao cursed himself in silence for being obscene.

On the wedding night, to sleep in the study would be disrespectful to his wife.

He had not read many books, but he understood that much.

Though scholars disdained soldiers as unrefined, he had refused to accept it; hence, he was reading the books he hated over and over until the basic principles were his second nature. His manners could rival any civil official.

The fire in him burned higher still.

Lan Yunjin did not remove her inner garments. She slipped beneath a silk quilt, lying on the inner side of the bed.

A man’s shadow loomed over her; in the darkness, she could see nothing. Her lips moved, but she could think of nothing proper to say at such a moment.

If a wedding night passed without intimacy, how could they explain it the next morning?

He lay on the bed, strange yet familiar, and unknowingly tugged at the quilt, exposing her stomach.

She pushed at him and said awkwardly, “Husband, could you move a little?”

Her throat was parched, her legs uncomfortably restless.

A sensation she had not felt in years began to spread like a warm, sticky, gentle stream.

Had she not always been like a stone that is hard and dry? When had she last had the stirrings of spring in her heart?

Suddenly, she remembered the wine.

Without doubt, that was the cause.

Then Wei Xiao… Tonight, she might truly be in danger.

How could Madam Zhang, the dignified wife of the eldest branch, have done something so unreliable? Knowing her son’s defect, why add fuel to the fire and drag her into it besides?

Wei Xiao rolled away; she seized the moment to pull the quilt back over herself.

Yet she could not fight the heat flooding her body. She was angry at Madam Zhang’s unbecoming interference, and at Wei Xiao’s lack of politeness; his movements were far too loud.

She reached for his arm. “Husband, without the quilt, you’ll catch cold.”

His arm went stiff; she felt as if she had fallen into a furnace, her legs inching toward him.

Knowing he could not rise to the occasion, she suddenly had the urge to tease him.

What passed between husband and wife in the bridal chamber was known only to them.

She shed her restraint, her toes sliding up along his calf.

Her actions were plainly meant to stir the fire.

Wei Xiao did not think of himself as a gentleman. A man trained in arms had no patience for provocation.

His hands became his weapon.

From top to bottom, he stripped her bare.

The ties of her bodice snapped; her clothing no longer shielded her.

She refused to lie meekly beneath him, her fingers brushing over his trousers.

He froze, his eyes on her.

“Don’t worry, husband,” she said gently. “It will get better, little by little.”

Wei Xiao gave a low laugh.

“You’re willing to help me… heal?” he asked.

His mother had clung to the belief that he avoided tongfang maids because of an ailment.

He had let her believe it—such an excuse kept her from pushing unwanted women into his rooms.

If the Lan girl spoke thus, it was clear his mother had already told her today.

Sharing a bed with such close contact was enough to dissolve the earlier sense of distance between them.

Lan Yunjin did not answer. Her mind was yielding to the demands of her body as she clumsily explored this so-called ailment.

In a blink, her palm was damp.

What hidden illness was this?

Outside, the xiniang eavesdropping nearly gasped at the young master’s vigor. So the back-alley physician Madam Zhang had consulted was no fraud; his prescription clearly had an effect!

Tomorrow she must report at once that the young master’s condition was improving; they should seize the chance and have more medicine made.

Wei Xiao’s stamina was that of a man at his peak, as tireless in the bedchamber as he was on the battlefield. Unless sated, he would not easily stop.

In the midst of their descent, a string of muffled whimpers broke through the paper window. The golden moonlight outside seemed to dim.

Footnotes

1. Tongfang—A personal maid in traditional households who also served as a concubine or sexual companion to the young master.
2. Xiniang—A matron responsible for assisting the bride during the wedding day and night, often a go-between for sensitive matters.