Chapter Thirty-Seven: Skill

After Madam Yang sternly rebuked Madam Huang, she treated her with a touch of coldness. Realizing she needed to make amends, Madam Huang personally saw to Lianqiao’s dismissal, and selected two younger, more docile maids for Xu Zimo. Their innocence and obedience satisfied Madam Yang, who, after inspecting them, nodded in approval and chose not to dwell further on Madam Huang’s previous mistake.

After all, Madam Huang had served by her side for years; upon reflection, Madam Yang realized she could not truly do without her. A warning and a stern talking-to sufficed, and soon their daily rhythm returned to normal. Yet, the Zhang household was far from tranquil.

Madam Zhang received a letter from the capital, fixing the date for Zhang Zhongheng’s marriage. She knew well enough that the match with the Xu family was now unalterable. She personally chose two elegant and graceful maids for Zhang Zhongheng, and then informed him that the wedding was set for the fifth day of the second month after the new year.

“This was your grandfather’s decision. Even if you wanted to refuse, you could not. Marriage is a duty you cannot escape; you will want for nothing in your household, so do not stir up any more trouble.”

Madam Zhang’s face was stern, her heart equally dissatisfied, but her opinion held no sway in this matter. She could not fathom why Lord Yan himself had insisted on matchmaking such a union. Though her branch was not the main line of the Zhang family, they still resided in the ancestral home. The Xu registrar was a penniless scholar, and the future mother-in-law a small-minded merchant.

Recalling Madam Yang’s demeanor that day, Madam Zhang lost all hope for pleasant surprises. All she could do was wait for her daughter-in-law’s arrival, intending to discipline her properly and hoping she would not become tainted by the Xu family’s rustic ways.

The mention of “the fifth day of the second month” brought to Zhang Zhongheng’s mind the confrontation he’d once had with Xu Ruojin. They were all but chess pieces, at best with a gilded edge…

Surveying his family’s arrangements, a sharp pain stabbed Zhang Zhongheng’s heart.

“I wish to go to the capital to see Grandfather and Father.”

His defiance displeased Madam Zhang. “That’s enough!”

She furrowed her brows. “Don’t think I’m ignorant of your role in pushing the Xu family’s maid into the lake. There are limits to such behavior. Admit your fault and let the matter rest—if the old master learns the truth, are you not afraid he’ll break your legs? Once your wife enters the household, you can ignore her as you please, but you will agree to this marriage without protest!”

Seeing Zhang Zhongheng remain silent, Madam Zhang’s mood darkened. “Leave me. I must visit the Liang family. Your father expressly instructed in his letter that you are not to provoke the Liangs again. Consider yourself warned.”

“He rescued her from the water—let him marry her instead!”

“No more nonsense!” Madam Zhang’s voice was cold and cutting. “You must also preserve the Zhang family’s reputation!”

Zhang Zhongheng’s fists clenched tightly, his eyes narrowed, and he muttered, “Liang Xiao, Xu Ruojin…”

The following day, Madam Zhang went to the Liang family bearing gifts. She did so reluctantly, compelled only by her husband’s instructions.

Madam Liang did not refuse her audience, inviting her inside for fine tea and courteous conversation. To an outsider, it might have seemed the two ladies were old friends.

“…It was all my son’s fault,” Madam Zhang said. “Indulged since childhood, he has forgotten the family’s traditions. Madam Liang, with your kind heart, I beg you not to take offense.”

Madam Liang merely shook her head. “What sort of elder would I be if I held grudges against the younger generation?”

Glancing at Madam Liang’s side, Madam Zhang abruptly thought of the Xu family’s daughter. “I must also thank you for allowing your housekeeper to instruct the Xu girl. It has been a great help to me. The wedding date is set; I hope you will join us for the celebration.”

“Manners are learned, not innate. You are truly blessed to soon have a daughter-in-law at your side—my congratulations.” Madam Liang’s words were ambiguous, leaving Madam Zhang ill at ease.

“…And Young Master Liang Xiao is not so young anymore, is he?”

“His health is poor; we are not considering marriage for him at this time.” Madam Liang’s face grew cold, clearly unwilling to continue on this topic.

Though embarrassed, Madam Zhang felt secretly relieved. Liang Xiao, injured while saving his father—a blade piercing so close to his heart—was praised in private as a filial son, but the physicians had declared he would never wield a sword again. Now, with the Liang family under imperial censure, and the other sons exiled to distant borders, their house in Zhonglin County had become a tasteless scrap, left by the emperor for all to mock.

If not for Madam Liang’s noble birth, the Zhang patriarch and his son would never have concerned themselves with the Liangs at all.

All this Xu Ruojin did not know. Otherwise, she would have marveled at how the cold-faced, wounded young man she met moved with such lightness—what manner of person had he been before his injury?

With little left to say, Madam Zhang offered her gifts, exchanged a few polite words, and took her leave.

The moment she departed, Madam Liang’s demeanor fell. She looked to her housekeeper, “What do you think of the Xu girl?”

“She is an excellent young woman, unlike her mother, who is so calculating. But she seems to remember nothing, and even thanked me for her rescue.”

Madam Liang was unmoved. After a pause, she inquired about Liang Xiao. “Where is he?”

“He is out seeking physicians again,” came the reply.

Seeing her mistress’s worry, the housekeeper tried to comfort her. “Let the young master do as he wishes. At least he has some hope to cling to.”

“And yet, what of marriage? I mentioned it days ago, but he made it clear he wants nothing of it. Still, everyone knows his heart belongs to Yan’er. Why, he still keeps the jade pendant they exchanged as children.”

“He hasn’t worn it recently,” the housekeeper replied.

A helpless sigh escaped Madam Liang. “Are the days truly so hard to endure?”

Xu Ruojin did not have a moment’s rest in the days that followed. After Madam Yang’s bout of agitation and setting the wedding date, she threw herself into an unending flurry of preparations: dowry lists, selecting maids and attendants.

When the time came for the household women to visit and add to the bridal trousseau, Madam Yang would not grant Xu Ruojin a fine courtyard. Instead, she summoned craftsmen to build two side rooms and a small chamber next to her current place. Whether they would ever be used was another matter; at least it would not be a disgrace in the eyes of others.

With the constant clamor of construction, Xu Ruojin found peace only in the mornings, following Madam Fang for her lessons.

Every three days, Madam Fang taught Xu Ruojin a new skill—not the refined arts of music, chess, calligraphy, or painting, but practical household crafts: weaving, embroidery, managing the kitchen, and brewing wine.

Xu Ruojin grasped the general principles of embroidery, but when she tried it herself, she ended up with nothing but fingers pricked and raw. Managing household accounts, however, was no challenge, and even Madam Fang was surprised at her calculating prowess.

Today’s lesson was brewing wine, a necessity in every household of this era. Purchased wine could not compare to the aged spirits made by the women of the house. Xu Ruojin learned for the first time how wine was made: rice wine, date wine, chrysanthemum wine, grape wine, osmanthus wine, and medicinal wine—though the methods were still rudimentary.

Selecting ingredients, boiling down the juices, mixing and flavoring, sealing each jar and waiting for the proper day to drink—this was the process. Wine was not only for drinking, but also for rituals. In the Wei dynasty, sacrificial rites were of utmost importance, and the wine used must be carefully brewed; to offer cheap, store-bought spirits was an insult to one’s ancestors.

As she learned about wine, a thought occurred to Xu Ruojin. Perhaps she could use these lessons with Madam Fang as a pretext to acquire some medicinal herbs and experiment herself. It would be a shame to waste the pharmacological knowledge she had brought from her past life.