Chapter 9 – The Illusion

The weather in Chang’an was fickle. After several days of rising temperatures, people had begun preparing to change into gauzy, lighter clothes, only for the skies to turn and bring two days of ceaseless, drizzling rain, making travel difficult.

At an inn more than a hundred li outside the city, the second floor’s private room glowed with warm candlelight.

“Young Madam, aren’t we almost at Fourth Young Lady’s husband’s home?” Guiyuan muttered while shutting the window tightly. “When will this wretched rain stop? It’s slowing our journey.”

“I don’t know,” Lan Yunying replied, still bent over the table, shaping a small clay doll. “We should be close.”

Her younger sister disliked reading, preferring to collect little trinkets and amusements like this to pass the time.

Guiyuan had served her since childhood; she was simple-minded and quick in her work but with no stamina for anything drawn-out.

“Sigh…”

The maid flopped onto a round stool, perplexed. “Young Madam, when we reach Chang’an, will we stay at an inn or at the General’s Residence?”

It was a valid question.

Lan Yunying placed the clay doll back into its brocade box. “I think our elder sister’s mother-in-law will surely host us warmly.”

Before her marriage, she had seen Wei Xiao’s horoscope slip and marriage documents.

The General’s household was reputed for honest, upright conduct. The mother-in-law’s maiden family, the Zhangs of Qingyang, had a tradition of hospitality and were skilled at raising their children.

Guiyuan nodded. “Then Fourth Young Lady must be living comfortably in the General’s Residence.”

“But the General is a man of martial training… I wonder what kind of temper he has. Hopefully he’s not hot-tempered like an ox.” Guiyuan fretted pointlessly.

Lan Yunying instinctively refuted her. “No, he wouldn’t be. General Wei has a decent disposition.”

Guiyuan said casually, “Well, if his mother is easy to get along with, the General himself shouldn’t be too bad either.”

Lan Yunying tapped the table with her fingertips and cast her maid a sideways glance. “That loose tongue of yours—you’d better fix it.”

Guiyuan sheepishly rubbed her nose. “Yes, yes, I’ll remember your advice.”

Just then, Pei Ye’s steward, Wenbo, slid open the door and bowed. “Young Madam, Young Master has returned.”

They had been traveling from Luoyang for ten full days.

Lan Yunying answered lightly and told Guiyuan to pack the brocade box back into the bundle.

The rain had not stopped. When Pei Ye entered, Wenbo helped him remove his damp outer robe.

Lan Yunying noticed him covering his mouth as he coughed, his complexion pale. “Have you caught a chill?”

Pei Ye turned away, pressing a handkerchief from his sleeve to his mouth. Clearly uncomfortable, he avoided standing too close as if afraid of passing illness to his wife’s elder sister, whom they would soon meet in Chang’an.

Wenbo patted his master’s back and explained, “I suspect yesterday’s all-day rain did it. Young Master went out to buy books and caught the cold, so his throat is sore.”

Lan Yunying asked, “Shouldn’t we call a doctor?”

Wenbo forced a smile. “Before we left the estate, the Old Madam told me to bring some medicinal herbs just in case. I brewed a bowl for him this morning, but it hasn’t helped.”

“That won’t do.”

Although Lan Yunying felt no romantic affection for Pei Ye, she couldn’t ignore it when he fell ill. Yet, as soon as she spoke, she hesitated.

She couldn’t claim to have studied medical texts, and knowing herbal remedies outright would seem odd.

Wenbo himself looked troubled. His master had been frail since childhood, needing hundreds of bowls of medicine over the years just to be able to eat and study like other young men.

Now, in the very year he had married, his wife wanted to take him to Chang’an for the spring banquet, but this illness struck suddenly and could take days to recover from.

Replacing the soiled silk handkerchief with a fresh one, Wenbo said gravely, “I’m anxious as well… We can only hope Heaven spares Young Master from coughing.”

Pei Ye rasped, “Wenbo, throw that one away.”

Wenbo nodded. He knew his master didn’t want anything carrying the sickness left in the room where Young Madam might touch it.

The suite was divided into an inner and outer room. Lan Yunying sat in the outer room; Pei Ye stood in the inner one, keeping his distance.

She rose, lips parting, weighing her words carefully.

“I once had a terrible illness before I came of age,” she said. “The wind-cold got into my body, and I coughed without end. The doctor claimed it was a chill attacking my lungs and prescribed several doses, but the more I drank them, the worse it became.”

She spoke with a hint of awkwardness, clearly concerned for him, pausing now and then as if trying to recall exactly how she had recovered.

Pei Ye found himself looking at her.

Her cheeks were flushed with emotion, her expression solemn—none of her usual girlish levity.

A sharp throb of pain seized his head.

She… didn’t seem like Yunying’s younger sister.

Was it an illusion?

Why was his intuition trying to mislead him?

Lan Yunying continued, “Just now, I noticed there was phlegm on that handkerchief. My mother once said that meant the illness comes from the heart and lungs. I remember a few herbs back from then; if you like, I can write them down, and Wenbo can buy them tomorrow.”

After a long pause, Pei Ye agreed quietly.

Guiyuan, listening nearby, was dumbstruck. The young madam had indeed been ill before, but she had lain unconscious for half a month back then. How could she possibly remember the names of herbs?

Lan Yunying instructed her maid to go downstairs and borrow a brush and ink from the innkeeper.

Black ink bled onto the cowhide paper as Lan Yunying lifted her brush, her movements slow and deliberate.

Her younger sister had always written in xiao kai (small regular script), while she herself was accustomed to xiao zhuan (small seal script); the two were markedly different.

Few people could recognize her sister’s handwriting, but Yunying herself enjoyed attending the poetry gatherings hosted by the young ladies of Luoyang.

When in high spirits, she would casually compose a poem or two alongside the other women.

After much thought, Lan Yunying lowered the brush and imitated her sister’s script, writing down each medicinal herb one by one.

—-

At the General’s Residence, the young ladies would head to the study after breakfast.

Rainwater still lingered on the back garden’s grass, and the girls deliberately sought out puddles to splash in.

But the moment they spotted the new bride dressed in a lotus-pink blouse and skirt, her complexion like powder and her brows like ink, eyes bright with a smile, it was Uncle Wei Xiao’s wife, they instantly became well-behaved, hurrying into the study to find their desks and open their books.

It had been ten days since Lan Yunjin began teaching them to read, and unexpectedly, these lively girls proved obedient under her guidance, following her rules without complaint.

For now, there was no appointed tutor.

Each day, she had them read for an hour, then assigned simple written work. After a few days of this, even Wei Jun, the eldest among them, had grown noticeably more refined. The only trouble was her loud reading voice. Lan Yunjin had told them repeatedly that one doesn’t need to shout while reading, lest they damage their throats.

“…Rites, Music, Archery, Charioteering, Calligraphy, Arithmetic! The six ancient arts, no longer complete!”

Wei Jun recited with utter abandon; it was the Three-Character Classic their aunt had introduced as a primer for children beginning their studies.

She, along with Third Young Lady and Sixth Young Lady, felt a twinge of sadness.

They were already past their eighth birthdays, yet still reading books for children. After all, their martial skills were good enough to knock down two young boys at once.

The Wei children were competitive by nature; falling behind others was unacceptable.

Wei Jun channelled her spirit for sparring into her voice, nearly shouting loud enough to pierce the window paper.

From the dais, Lan Yunjin tapped the ruler on the desk.

The voices faded.

Wei Jun lifted her chin, her voice now hoarse. “Aunt, did we get a character wrong?”

Lan Yunjin chuckled. “Jun-niang read very well.” Then her tone shifted, and she gestured to her own throat. “Jun-niang, touch here—does it hurt?”

Mentioning it brought the pain into focus; when Wei Jun opened her mouth, she felt the raw pull in her throat.

“No more reading for today,” Lan Yunjin said, summoning Pipa to fetch a small tin of pear-syrup candies and distributing them to the girls.

The candy soothed their throats, and the girls, now smiling, asked, “If we’re not reading, what shall we do?”

With gentle encouragement, she told them not to rush their progress. “Today, we’ll practice copying text. Do you still remember how I taught you to hold the brush?”

The young ladies chimed in at once:

“Remember! Even the third young lady dreams about it at night!”

“Aunt, which book should we copy from?”

Outside the window, Xue Yan cupped her cheeks in her hands, watching her daughter seated quietly at the desk, starting her copying exercise just as Ying-niang instructed.

Once the tasks were assigned, each girl’s personal maid was there to serve them tea or a snack if they grew hungry.

Lan Yunjin, well-practiced in her new role, strolled out of the study.

“Are you here to see the Third Young Lady?” she asked.

Xue Yan smiled with a hint of secrecy. “Yes… and no.”

Lan Yunjin didn’t press her.

Xue Yan waved a hand. “The Emperor has gifted Changyang a fine qianlima—a thousand-li steed. The ladies of the household and their husbands are all at the stables now to see it. Mother-in-law says you should join in the fun.”

“I don’t know how to ride,” Lan Yunjin said plainly.

“That’s all the more reason to come!” Xue Yan looped an arm through hers. “Riding is great fun. All the women here play polo. When you have time, I’ll teach you. If you ever decide to accompany Changyang on a campaign one day, you won’t be at a disadvantage.”

She had wandered far into the topic, recalling that some women in Northern Zhao did follow their husbands into the field, but they had all been trained in martial arts.

The court had even ennobled General Huaihua’s wife, Madam Jiang, as a titled lady for her valor in leading a thousand soldiers to break through an enemy siege and rescue her husband.

Because of such feats, women’s status in Northern Zhao had risen steadily.

The General’s stables were vast.

For her first visit, Lan Yunjin stayed close to Xue Yan’s side.

The women, as Xue Yan had said, were laughing and chasing one another on horseback.

“Little sister-in-law, I’ll take you to the stalls to pick out a fine mount,” Xue Yan said, determined to teach her to ride.

But Yunjin would much rather remain in the study watching Wei Jun practice her calligraphy.

“I’m afraid of heights,” she declined. “I truly can’t ride.”

In her past life, confined within the walls of the inner residence, she had never felt interest in such things.

Now, though her body was young, the towering horses in the stalls filled her with absolute dread.

Seeing her resistance, Xue Yan coaxed her. “Ying-niang, you spend all day indoors. Riding strengthens the body, and it’s good for your health. No one is born knowing how to ride. You think Changyang is so heroic? When he was little, he fell off a horse and cried his eyes out!”

The thousand-li steed drew covetous glances from the other young men.

One after another, they tried to mount and test its mettle—only to be kicked or chased across the paddock by the fierce creature.

Wei Xiao laughed at their foolishness.

With a leap, he landed astride it, and to everyone’s surprise, the wild horse obeyed, galloping freely under his command.

The youth’s blood was hot, his spirit high.

Then his gaze caught his wife’s figure.

Reining in, he saw his elder sister-in-law speaking to her, her expression conflicted, eyes darting nervously toward the horse stalls.

A bookish lady, he thought, would naturally fear horses and weapons.

—-

That night, Lan Yunjin’s monthly courses began.

In the small kitchen, red date and ginger tea was prepared, and Momo Zhou waited by her bedside.

Yuchan helped her change her menstrual cloths.

Momo Zhou, her thoughts mixed, calculated the days—if the lady had her courses, then there was no pregnancy.

“Young Madam, Young Master will sleep in the study tonight,” she said softly. “If the pain grows bad, I’ll send the maids to brew medicine.”

“Please apologize to him for me,” Yunjin murmured weakly.

Momo Zhou smiled. “No need. He’s only in the study because he doesn’t want to disturb you in the night.”

Yunjin’s head was heavy.

After returning from the stables, Yuchan had cried out in alarm as her skirt hem soaked with blood and fussed over cleaning it for half the evening.

She couldn’t recall the last time her courses had come.

Her early menopause had spared her the cramps and aches for many years.

Without Wei Xiao beside her, she slept easily.

In the Qionghua Court study, which adjoined the west wing, Wei Xiao sat by candlelight, moving with a touch of secrecy.

He was reviewing the horoscope matching and marriage documents his mother had given him.

The match between Hedong’s Wei and Luoyang’s Lan had been secured by his grandfather’s petition to the Emperor.

He hadn’t cared much at the time.

When the horoscope matching document had been handed to him, he’d given it a cursory glance, as the birth characters meant nothing to him, then moved on to the written documents.

The scholarly phrasings blurred together; he had read them in great sweeping gulps, without remembering the details.

The one thing he recalled clearly: the Lan sisters were born of the same mother.

Momo Zhou had said the pair was famed in Luoyang for looking and sounding exactly alike—no difference in height, face, or voice.

His finger traced the characters line by line.

“Yunying: quiet and averse to noise; began her studies at four; learned the qin at six… a talented lady of Luoyang.”

His wife disliked commotion.

Pressing down on the paper, Wei Xiao thought bitterly, “If only I couldn’t read, I wouldn’t know my wife disliked me.”

Footnotes:

1. Xiao kai—Small regular script, a neat and precise style of Chinese calligraphy.
2. Xiao zhuan—Small seal script, an older, more archaic form of writing used in ancient China.
3. Three-Character Classic—A famous Confucian text used for children’s education, composed in three-character lines.
4. Qianlima—Literally “thousand-li horse,” a legendary term for a swift and exceptional steed.
5. Horoscope matching document—The exchange of written birth details between families during marriage negotiations, used for astrological matching.