Not A Competition That Fosters A Friendly Atmosphere.
Meihua-
“Meihua, please stop,” Commander Bai’s voice resonates with a deep, assertive tone, preventing me from entering the palanquin sent by Prince Jinghua. I turn to face him, the ornate silk of my lavish gown rustling softly against my skin. In this extravagant attire, I can’t help but feel out of place, like a flower plucked from its natural habitat. Embarrassment tinges my cheeks as I lower myself into a curtsey.
He’s not dressed for work, but he says, “I have some function to attend to back at the station. I thought we could share a ride, since we are both heading in the same direction.”
He dismisses Prince Jinghua’s extravagant sedan, opting for the one used by himself and the Bai family. He hands me a delicate white woman’s hat embellished with a sheer face covering. As he places it on my head with great care, I can’t help but notice his tender touch, treating me like a fragile porcelain doll rather than a grown woman. His interactions with women must be infrequent, which perhaps explains his cautious demeanor. Once the hat is adjusted, he takes a step back to admire his craftsmanship. He then secures the satin straps beneath my chin. As his sedan arrives at the gate, I attempt to move forward, but Commander Bai steps ahead of me, opens the door, extends his hand, and takes a seat across from me.
In the midst of silence, I am acutely aware of the weight of the rings encircling my fingers, the cool touch of the jade bangles embracing my wrists, and the way the hairpins secure my tresses. The coral earrings dangling from my ears add to the ensemble, and the way this dress clings to my body intensifies my self-consciousness.
“I fear I must appear quite ridiculous in your eyes,” I confess, my voice laced with vulnerability. “Dressing a donkey as if it were a horse does not make it one. And to adorn a servant in such finery? I can barely face you.” Gratitude swells within me as I appreciate the shelter provided by my hat, shielding my face and concealing the telltale blush that colors my skin. However, a small gasp escapes my lips as I feel the delicate netting being lifted away, and my eyes meet his mere inches from mine.
“Meihua, you’re being ridiculous. You’re beautiful and definitely not a donkey. I’ve witnessed you effortlessly climbing trees; you’re more like a squirrel. And let me tell you, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with donkeys. Sure, horses may have more speed, but donkeys possess their own unique strengths. They’re fearless and perfect for polo. Unlike horses, they remain composed and less prone to startling, reducing the chances of you getting thrown off,” he reassures, his voice filled with kindness. Not that he isn’t always kind, but there’s an added tenderness in his tone.
“Now, let me explain the matter of the hat,” he leans back further into his seat. “I worry about what will become of you once all of this is over. The future is uncertain, and it might be wise for you to remain unseen and unrecognized. Otherwise, your options will be limited, forever known as the woman who once captured Jinghua’s affections. It may feel as if we live in a vast place, but it’s not that large. Word gets around. Social circles are smaller than you realize. I fear his little game will come back to harm you, and Jinghua should know better. I’ve requested mother to inform the Empress and put an end to this charade, all for your sake.”
The Commander’s concern is touching, but I want to clarify that I’m not the weakling everyone perceives me to be. “I appreciate your concern for my future, but rest assured, I am not worried. Unless you insinuate I will bring shame or humiliation to your family, I’ll resolve this situation. However, it’s important to note that I don’t see myself as a victim. Besides, how often does a prince allow themselves to be manipulated by a servant? I understand it may appear audacious for a servant to speak so boldly about a prince, but perhaps it will impart a valuable lesson to Prince Jinghua.”
The sedan comes to a stop, and without waiting for the coachman, Commander Bai exits, offering his hand to help me out, treating me like a lady instead of his servant. We find ourselves in front of a teahouse cleverly called 五眼茶館 ‘Five Eyes Teahouse’, named after the five stages of boiling water for tea. The tea proprietor rushes towards us, wearing a bright smile. “Commander Bai, here you are. We rarely ever see you in the afternoon. We have everything prepared as you requested. Oh, and thank you for the other day. That lousy, no-good son-in-law of mine will think twice before raising his hands to my daughter again.”
The owner leads us up the stairs, following behind, until we reach the top floor. The area is empty, except for us and a server who welcomes us warmly. “Greetings, Commander Bai. Your table is ready, and thank you for catching that scoundrel who deceived my grandfather with a fake marriage arrangement.”
The server places his fist on his palm, praising the commander. “If it wasn’t for you, my grandfather would have suffered in silence, too embarrassed. You’d think he’s too old to remarry, but he gets lonely.” I glance back and see Commander Bai, not basking in the well-deserved compliments, but looking down at the ground, blushing and waving his hands to quiet the server. “It was nothing. Just part of my job. I did nothing that someone else wouldn’t have done in my place. Let’s stop or this lady will think I brought her here just to hear about my good deeds.”
The server leads us to a spacious promenade, where a large table can accommodate a dozen people. I choose a seat by the porch, which overlooks a picturesque pond. The view is stunning. In the center of the pond, there is a beautiful island surrounded by water, adorned with peach blossoms and a solitary rowan tree. The vibrant red berries of the tree stand out against the rest of the scenery, and the melodious songs of the white-breasted birds perched on its branches fill the air.
I take a moment to appreciate the tranquility around me as a soft, gentle breeze brushes against my skin, filling my lungs with the freshness of the air. Commander Bai interrupts my thoughts, expressing his intention to leave. He apologizes for leaving me alone and mentions that he wanted to accompany me and catch Jinghua for a moment. As he departs, I overhear him instructing the attendant to take good care of me. I turn my attention to the server, who seems to relax a bit and introduces himself as the owner’s grandson. He maintains a polite demeanor, avoiding direct eye contact, as it would be inappropriate to stare at an unknown woman.
Curious about the commander’s usual choice of tea, I inquire with the server. He informs me that the commander prefers green tea with a few slices of dragon fruit – the same as that I serve him after dinner.
In my attempt to strike up a conversation with someone of my age, I inquire about the server’s time at the establishment. To my surprise, he blushes, giving off an air of embarrassment or discomfort, before responding, “I’ve been working here since I was a young boy.” I am aware that it might not be customary for women to engage in casual conversations with strangers, but it’s challenging for me to disregard my true identity, even when dressed as a noblewoman. After all, I am a servant, just like him.
Jinghua-
“Hey, you Jinghua,” my older cousin Yi Bo is a profoundly serious and formal man. Even at family gatherings, he always greets me with formality, bowing and addressing me as Fourth Prince. But today is different. Today, he calls me, ‘Hey you, Jinghua.’
Continuing with the informal tone, I address him as I did when we were children, “Older brother Bo’er, what brings you here? Will you be joining…”
He abruptly cuts me off, and in that moment, I can imagine what it would feel like to be interrogated and tortured by him. “I don’t like what’s happening, and I don’t understand what’s going on in your head. It’s wrong for you to take advantage of someone like her. If you wanted a playmate, you should have gone to the Hall of Eternal Spring.”
Why do I have to take this abuse and judgement? It doesn’t seem fair. Why does everyone assume I pose a threat to her? I’ve already been scolded by Qing Yuan, and now I’m receiving another lecture, but this one feels more threatening. “Meihua is benefiting from our agreement, and I believe you’re overstepping boundaries. I don’t understand your concern unless you view Meihua as more than just a servant. Is that the case? Do you have feelings for her, beyond her role as a servant?” I inquire, noticing Meihua’s head peering over the railing. I raise my voice, unsure of my own motives, but grappling with an unfamiliar emotion that I can’t quite articulate.
“Commander Bai, are you bothered by the possibility of having feelings for Meihua? It’s unusual for you to get involved or become an obstacle. But what if my feelings for her continue to grow and I truly cherish her? How would you react then?”
My cousin remains restrained, but his intense gaze could easily kill me twice over. I should stop provoking him, but my heart is racing, my face feels hot and feverish, and his silence gives me a false sense of victory. However, his words shatter my illusion. “Meihua deserves better than me. It’s the truth. I hold her in high regard. Her beauty and charm are too extraordinary to be confined to a life of servitude. I plan to request Mother to take her to the palace when Jingyuan takes another wife. As a royal concubine, she will have her own servants, and if she bears a son, Meihua could even become a noble consort when Jingyuan ascends the throne.”
Just like that, my head feels like it’s about to explode.
That indistinct feeling has a name, although I can’t bring myself to accept it just yet. “So she’s too good for you, but you believe that being Jingyuan’s concubine is better for her than being with me? Many women who enter the harem serve once before they fade into oblivion, and their names are forgotten. With me, at least I’ll remember her name. She won’t have to compete with hundreds of other women if she chooses me,” I say. And here’s the thing, logically, I’m spouting words I don’t think I mean, or maybe I do? Or am I speaking out of rage or some other emotion?
“I will not argue with you,” Yi Bo says, while arguing with me. “What’s the point of remembering her name when you’re ever rarely home? You and Lady Min have been married for eight years and still haven’t had a child. I’m leaving my sedan here. Make sure Meihua gets home by curfew. She was out too late last time.”
The nerve of this man. He’s fortunate we’re family. If not bound by blood, I wouldn’t be so tolerant of his gall. I’m furious. He talks down to me as if I’m one of his subordinates, and this time if looks could kill, Yi Bo’s name would be etched on a memorial tablet. Once he’s gone, I make my way upstairs and sit across from her, trying to process everything. Meihua remains silent, but even through the veil, I can see her tears, and her crying angers me more than my cousin ever could.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” I say, and she responds, “No, you’re not. You knew I was watching. You did it with intent.” She’s right. I did. “Are you angry with me?” I ask, curious about her temperament. “I’m not angry, just surprised. Why did you tell him those things? Why did you say things you don’t mean?” she questions. I don’t have an answer to her inquiries, and considering the tension, I offer her an out. “It would be understandable if you wanted to leave. I’ll still pay you for today,” I assure her.
She takes off her hat, and my anger dissipates when I see her smiling, free from tears. “No, I won’t be a burden to you or anyone else. I’ll stay because I’m not a charity, and I don’t accept handouts. I want to be here, but instead of tea, let’s have some wine.”
The server places platters on the table, adorned with succulent roasted duck, braised meats, and fragrant wensi tofu, and warns us of the particular wine’s potency. I move aside the vibrant fruit slices and dainty cakes to make room. Meihua is slender and could benefit from a few extra kilos. She pours the 50 years aged wine into my glass, then hers. I raise my glass, clinking it against hers.
“To another rendezvous with my pretend lover,” she declares, and we toast in unison. As we take a sip, I observe her savoring the wine, her lips graze gently caressing the rim of the glass. Curiosity piqued, I inquire, “Do you often indulge in wine?” With a more than a hint of innocence, she responds, “No, never. This is my first time.”
Since I’m not much of a drinker myself, I fully understand the potential risks if she doesn’t pace herself and drink slowly. “Why don’t we turn it into a game?” I suggest the one thing Qing Yuan always demands and begs for when we’re out and wine is involved. “Meihua, let’s play a drinking game, but don’t expect a friendly match. This won’t be a competition that promotes a friendly atmosphere. It’ll be as close to a battle as you’ll get, because I have to warn you, I’m quite competitive. So don’t blame me for how you’ll feel tomorrow.”
“Let’s have a drink, but don’t underestimate me. I’m a quick learner. I accept.” She accepts my challenge, and a small part of me feels guilty for tricking her.
“Your confidence is impressive, but there are some things that can’t be learned overnight,” I remark. She confidently responds, “That’s not true. Some skills are innate. Sex, for example, doesn’t take years to learn.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing, and I stare at her in disbelief before stuttering, “Did you just mention sex in the middle of the day with an unmarried man? How inappropriate. Have you no shame? I never took you for someone like that. Why not just raise your skirt and show off your bare ankles to the entire world? How scandalous. Don’t try to use your feminine charm to win me over. I’m not susceptible to that.”