China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

as it happens, her daughter’s feet are being bound. As for her family, they have a big farm and a great deal of land. They live off the rents.” It had been true in the past, he thought. It might be true in the future. The present, therefore, could be overlooked.

“She’s still a Cantonese peasant,” Ru-Hai muttered.

Shi-Rong should have rebuked him at once for being rude, but he decided to reason with him instead. “You will find that her manners are elegant, she can read and write a little, which is as much as many well-born ladies can manage, and she speaks enough Mandarin to recite poetry.” He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the prefect’s wife for these accomplishments, and as he did so, he realized that he had another card in his hand. “You had better be careful what you say about her to the prefect, by the way,” he added, “because she is also a close friend of his wife.”

That struck home. His son looked up in surprise and then fell silent.

Shi-Rong had seen such things before. A merchant, for instance, takes a second wife, his children inspect her, and the thing they care about most is whether she will enhance the family’s status or not. It was natural enough, he thought. It’s the instinct for survival. The children hate the new wife not because she is pretty when their own mother is ceasing to be so, but because firstly, if she has children, their own inheritance will be diluted, and secondly, they consider the younger woman comes from a lower class. Of course, if she is rich and brings money into the family, that may be another matter.

Ru-Hai said nothing more. But later that evening, as Mei-Ling passed quietly through the courtyard, Shi-Rong noticed his son look at her curiously.

—

The next day they all went to see the prefect. Mei-Ling and the prefect’s wife retired together while the prefect and Shi-Rong took Ru-Hai on a tour of the area.

The setting, with the river Li flowing past the houses and winding its way through rice fields, under the gaze of the soaring green hills, was so lovely it made one gasp. The boy was also impressed by the different tribes he saw in the street. He admired the Zhuang men in their severe dark blue costumes, and their women, also in dark blue, but with brightly embroidered aprons. By contrast, the women of the Yao tribe wore gorgeous flowery robes, so covered with silver trinkets that he thought it a wonder they could walk. He counted at least five tribal communities all mixing in the streets in the easiest way.

He saw tall wooden houses that began as hay barns, turned into dwellings higher up, and then into storerooms in the roof. “So high that even the rats can’t get at them,” the prefect informed him with a laugh.

They went down to the river and saw the fishermen in their boats. “It’s probably the best-stocked river in the whole empire,” his father said. “There are two hundred different kinds of fish in these waters.”

“Are they all edible?” Ru-Hai asked. His father didn’t know and passed the question on to the prefect.

“The Cantonese will eat almost anything,” that worthy gentleman answered with a smile.

In the marketplace they saw magnificent embroidered cloths for sale, each tribe having their own rich style. They watched a crowd listening to a pair of musicians, one with a flute, the other a horn, accompanied by an old fellow beating a big copper drum. “The drum’s probably hundreds of years old,” Shi-Rong explained. A group of singers came down the street. “They won’t perform for an hour or two, but you can hang around to listen if you want,” the prefect said. “If you stay here a year, you’ll see all kinds of festivals. They even have a bullfight, you know.”

In short, by the time they came back to the prefect’s residence at noon, young Ru-Hai had almost forgotten his anger of the day before, having decided that Guilin was the most exotic and romantic place he had ever seen in his life.

—

It was afternoon, still quite warm. Ru-Hai had gone into the town again. Mei-Ling had returned home, and she was sitting on a stone bench in the garden, half hidden from the path by a sweet osmanthus tree. She’d brought a small piece of embroidery with her, hoping to improve her skill. But she hadn’t yet begun when she became aware of someone coming along the path.

She was surprised to see Ru-Hai. She’d assumed he was still down in the marketplace listening to the singers.

She got a glimpse of his face before he saw her. He looked preoccupied. Not unhappy, but thoughtful. He’s probably come into the garden to be alone, she thought, and she was about to rise so he could have the place to himself.

But when he saw her, he seemed quite pleased and sat down on the bench beside her. “Can I ask you a question?” he said.

She bowed her head politely. “Of course.”

“How did you become my father’s concubine?”

“Oh.” She hadn’t expected quite such a blunt question. “Your father was very kind to my family,” she said after a slight pause. “But if I tell you how, you must promise not to repeat it to anyone—because it might embarrass your father.”

“All right.” He frowned. “I promise.”

“Some years ago, a cousin of mine got into trouble,” said Mei-Ling. “He was very close to me. My family had virtually adopted him. I called him Little Brother. Officially, your father should have arrested him, but Little Brother was young and your father let him get away. So I owed your father a debt of kindness that I thought I could never repay. After that, I didn’t see your father for years. But a few months ago, as he happened to find himself near our village, he came to call on us. My dear husband had died a year and