A niece of Cao Cao was betrothed to Sun Kuang, brother of Sun Ce, to bolster an alliance between north and south. Uprooted and unsettled, Cao Daiyu embarks on her journey. A historical tale eventually featuring other Wu notables.
Daiyu's given name is lost to the ages, as are the particulars of her welcome into the Sun family fold. This story presents a take on how the events may have transpired, with various perspectives on Han Chinese marriage and family.
Cao Daiyu perched on her seat with the unmoving precision of a doll set out for display. Her shoulders were pulled back, her knees together, her hands neatly arranged in her lap. The wide sash cinched around her waist allowed little opportunity to slacken her posture. Although the shutters had been opened to let a crisp autumn breeze into the carriage, a thin sweat was forming under the layered brocade of her travel attire. Bedecked in the finery of a bird set to spread her wings, Daiyu felt more like a chick shoved from the nest at the first clumsy indications of flight.
Daiyu had awaited her betrothal with all the eagerness of any other girl in town, dreaming of the day when the matchmaker paid her a visit. The wise old woman would draw Daiyu's birth chart and cast her hexagrams, and her wrinkled face would light up with joy as the planets aligned and good fortune arose from the coins laid out on the table. Then she would bring in the young man himself, gallant and handsome and fated to fall in love with Daiyu at first sight.
Indeed, the proposal had swept Daiyu off her feet - more literally than she had imagined.
Daiyu had no charts, no runes, no sure sign from Heaven that everything would work out for the best. She only had the name of Sun Kuang, a son of that great family ruling over the southlands beyond the Chang Jiang River. A letter had arrived, followed by a shipment of trunks overflowing with jewelry and tiger skins and other fine gifts for her parents. And then her dowry was packed, the drivers were hired, and she was stuffed into this carriage with a token farewell and the pins of adulthood still tight in her coiled hair. Cao Ren, a distant uncle assigned as her escort, kept watch from the bench across from her. How fitting to be brought into the care of a man she had never met by one who was just as unfamiliar.
At least uncle Ren made a reasonable traveling companion. Sensing that Daiyu was in no mood to talk, he had offered a greeting and refrained from pressing her beyond a brief reply. With his broad frame and martial bearing, Ren was a picture of stoicism. Another man might have been cold and intimidating, like the north gate guard with a habit of puffing his chest and staring down everyone who approached. Ren's fortitude was assuring rather than threatening, tempered by a gentleness of sorts. His sleek eyes were placid, his nose smoothly curved, his square jaw softened by a short, shaggy beard. When he spoke again, his voice was deep and kindly.
"We'll be riding for several days," Ren said. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable."
Daiyu had relished a brief youthful bliss, remembered in golden glimpses of summer evenings when she had run and played with her brothers. When she had soiled her hands and smudged her clothing, picking flowers and catching frogs to show the gardener who was too old to chase after them himself. Then the dirt and the freedom had been taken away, replaced by a chiding litany brought on by every transgression from slouching to sneaking off to producing strange sounds on her guqin just for the fun of it. That's not a proper way for a lady to behave. This perpetual admonishment was the first response that sprung to mind.
"But it wouldn't be proper."
"I'd say it's less proper for you to be miserable." Ren removed the thick cushion from his seat and offered it to her. "Here. You can lie down and use this as a pillow."
"Won't you be miserable yourself?"
Ren shrugged. "It's no worse than sleeping on the ground."
Though Daiyu allowed herself the luxury of loosening her sash, she kept her strict posture until her head began to nod. Who knew how uncle Ren maintained his composure, but perhaps he was sensible for not expecting her to do the same. Slipping off her shoes, Daiyu curled up with the spare cushion rolled under her head. She undid her hair, arranging it to flow down her back, and was still holding onto the pins when sleep overtook her.
The hard wooden carriage bench was more irksome than Cao Ren had let on, but he could stand to deal with the discomfort. His thirteenth year had been a shiftless blur of avoiding schoolwork in favor of fist fights and forays around the countryside. At that same age, the young woman napping across from him had been thrown into full-on adulthood. Daiyu deserved any relief that she could get.
Ren considered this trip to be relief enough from the past months of strife. At last, Cao Cao had put a triumphant end to the feud with his rival Zhang Xiu. The long and bitter conflict had cost him a beloved son, a trusted bodyguard, and nearly his own head as well. Ren himself had spearheaded the final counterattack, rousing the broken spirits of the soldiers struggling to cover his lord's retreat. The din of the fight still roared in his ears, and there would be more to come before Cao Cao could settle the turmoil for good. Never content with his station, Yuan Shao had been wrestling for control of the capital. Perhaps that dispute would also boil over into war, but such matters were best left unconsidered for the moment. This was a time of building relations rather than breaking them. A refreshing change and a welcome opportunity, even though it sent Ren away from his growing family.
Kin to a close military associate, Li Xiao Min had been introduced to Ren several years prior. The two of them had ridden their horses along the trails near her father's estate, speaking of the yellow-scarved rebels and their irony of furthering a Way of Peace by wreaking havoc throughout the land. She had painted the misty mountains of Pei for Ren to take with him on campaigns, and he had taught her how to shoot a straight arrow. Before long, they had become husband and wife.
Ren had joined Xiao Min in welcoming their firstborn son into the world, and then the war drums had called him away once again. While Ren had been off leading men to victory in skirmishes near and far, Cao Tai had grown from a bundle in his mother's arms to an energetic lad who settled down at her patient reminders to be quiet in the house and keep the rough and tumble outdoors. Tai had taken to the horse right away, sitting tandem at the front of the saddle as Ren had ridden with his father when he was too small to handle the reins himself. Another child was on the way, foretold to be a daughter. Then again, the same had been said about Tai.
Daiyu shifted in her sleep, nestling into her improvised pillow. Even in slumber, she maintained the air of dignity shown from the outset of her journey. If only Daiyu could have enjoyed a longer courtship, but this whirlwind of an alliance left no time for that luxury. In accordance with custom, marriages served to promote family relations. Ren and Xiao Min had been brought together to strengthen the bonds between his clan and hers. Yet she had come to him as a friend instead of being sent to his front gates at the dawn of adulthood. When the time came, it would be ideal for their own children to have the same opportunity.
Daiyu stirred, sat up, stretched a hand out for the water flask that Ren offered to her. She helped herself to a long drink, looking out at the orange sun hanging low over the distant hills. "When will we be stopping?"
"At nightfall. The horses were exchanged while you slept." Ren indicated a box of food on the seat next to him. "There is dinner here if you're hungry."
Daiyu's face fell, and she shuffled in her seat.
"Why do you ask?"
A flush rose into her cheeks as she bade a few moments before answering. "I have to go."
Ren smiled. "That can be arranged."
Romance of the Three Kingdoms describes the wife of Sun Kuang as Cao Ren's daughter. According to Rafe de Crespigny, her father was an unnamed younger brother of Cao Cao. Ren escorts Daiyu as a nod to that common attribution and a possible explanation for it.
Typically performed at the age of fourteen or later, the pinning ceremony represented a passage into adulthood for young women. Young men participated in a similar ceremony, receiving caps instead. The age of marriage was flexible. Depending on how close they were to a traditional age of adulthood, those who were wedded early might be pinned or capped before that time as well.