Chapter Thirty-Four: Zilong and the Matriarchs
…Or what not to do when confronted with the leading ladies of Changshan
The pale, translucent light of an unexpected full moon cast the entire landscape in her surreal glow, painting the world in magical shades of silver and soft white. Amongst the wan scenery, seated on a cold stone bench beneath an awning of fluttering bamboo leaves, was what appeared to be one of the Moon's subjects—a gray spirit from the cool domain she nightly ruled over.
It was only upon closer observation that one could distinguish this ghostly form as not a wandering soul, but rather, a flesh-and-blood man: Lord Xi, so emaciated by his fight against consumption, that he seemed a mere shadow of his former self.
Currently, he was sitting outside in the chilly night air, against the explicit orders of his doctor and the wishes of his handmaids. Tonight, the Lady Moon was so radiantly sublime, resembling a shining pearl in the inky velvet sky, that Lord Xi was inevitably reminded of his own august Lady Song. Nothing was going to stop him from going outside to enjoy the beauty of the Heavens, and his handmaids could see that it would be useless to try dissuading him from this foolish and downright dangerous impulse.
After wrapping her master in an excess of thick, fur-lined robes and warm blankets, Yinchun left Firelight in charge and took off to seek young General Boyue. Perhaps Lord Xi's future son-in-law might be able to convince him to go back inside and resume nursing his illness in the warmth of his bedside furnace.
Yet for all that he doted on the boy, Lord Xi was absolutely adamant tonight: He had never before seen such a lovely moon that reminded him so much of his late wife, and he was not about to settle for admiring it from within the confines of his sickbed.
In the end, Jiang Wei found that his rational arguments only fell on a pair of stubbornly deaf ears. With no other viable option, the youthful warrior took off his own green cloak and draped it over the consumptive aristocrat's frail shoulders, before taking a seat beside the old man. If he could do nothing else, at least he could try to be there when his future father-in-law started showing signs of weakness or discomfort.
Yet, at present, Lord Xi appeared little affected by his terminal illness. The magical glow of the full moon, and the tender memories of Lady Song that it brought back, seemed to have a healing effect on his spirit, and his mien, pallid though it was, nevertheless wore a look of content serenity.
"Beautiful, is she not?" he asked his daughter's fiancé. "I believe I can almost see the goddess Chang'e gliding across her surface."
Jiang Wei looked up at the pearly satellite, and saw nothing.
"She is quite lovely," he lied politely, checking the angle of the shadow that his Blink trident made with the soft ground. It was getting quite late, and an old man—much less an old, sickly man—should not be sitting outside, in the freezing night air, for much longer…
"Rather cold out here, isn't it?" A new male voice jerked Jiang Wei out of his haze of anxious thoughts.
The boy glanced up, and quickly identified the form of his king, silhouetted regally against the moonlight.
"My lord." He dropped a perfect bow.
Cao Cao shot his young general a mildly reproving look.
"I'm disappointed with you, Boyue. You should have known better than to drag Lord Xi out of his sickbed on such a frigid night as this," he said pointedly.
Jiang Wei looked a bit flustered, beginning to apologize, "I'm sorry, my lord, but Xi Da Ren insisted on coming outside…"
"The full moon's splendor reminded me of my beauteous wife, Lady Song," Lord Xi explained absently.
"I understand." Cao Cao's voice instantly dropped into a respectful murmur.
Privately, however, he was less than pleased by the situation. The sentimental old fool would only aggravate his illness by sitting outside in the cold, and should he untimely pass away because of this rash action, Wei could not afford the political blow that his death might deal.
"It certainly is a beautiful night; one must wonder if this is Chang'e's magic," Cao Cao deferred out loud.
Inwardly, he busied himself with calculating how far his cousin might currently be from the Wu kingdom.
Misty river. White-crested waves. Cool night breeze, glints of moonlight, stars that shone like a thousand tiny fires in the Heavens…and the malodorous stench of dying fish?
Xiahou Dun glared at his surroundings in disgust, both hands wrapped firmly around the hilt of his magnificent Kirin Fang, almost as if in an unconscious effort to clutch at the last remnants of his dignity. His latest departure from Xuchang had been his most hasty one to date, and in the rush, the Wei government had been unable to arrange for the proper methods of transportation.
Which was how the dashing general found himself hitching a ride across the Chang Jiang…on a leaky, puttering fishing boat! Xiahou Dun, the most feared warrior of the North, surrounded on all sides by smelly scalies while on a daring quest to retrieve a young bride. And not even his own bride—Jiang Wei's bubbly, frivolous bride! He silently cursed Sima Yi for the latter's brilliant plan of marrying the two brats to win Jingzhou's favor, before the sound of pattering feet raised the alarm that he now had bigger problems to worry about.
One big problem, to be exact, in the form of the fisherman's love-struck, surprisingly bold daughter. Xiahou Dun had seen more than his share of women in his years with Wei—from elegant court ladies to humble village girls, from painted courtesans to virginal Taoist nuns, from jealous little concubines to Cao Cao's own daughter (and may the Heavens help the unfortunate man who married that dusky-voiced vamp!) Never before, however, had he encountered such a creature as the one now bounding eagerly toward him.
The fisherman's daughter was a skinny, toothy girl of about eighteen, whom everybody called San Jie(1) (Xiahou Dun shuddered to think that there were at least two more of her kind running around somewhere!) She was extraordinarily dark-skinned, thanks to a lifetime spent accompanying her father and brothers on their boat, and her clothes were only slightly more fashionable than a burlap bag.
Yet, for all these faults, the girl still had her own peculiar charm…if only she weren't so fascinated by older men with eye patches and giant swords! Xiahou Dun didn't bother to consider whether the part with the sword might be a metaphor for something else; he was too preoccupied with trying to control his temper and refrain from bodily throwing the silly wench overboard.
"Hello, General Xiaohou(2)," San Jie chirped brightly, earning herself a grunt and a scowl from the object of her affections. Making inappropriate comments about his weapon was bad enough—did she also have to mispronounce his name and call him the Little Monkey General?
Unfazed by Xiahou Dun's less-than-enthused response, San Jie pranced beside him and, flashing her best smile, made her umpteenth offer to polish his sword for him. Xiahou Dun's eyebrows nearly flew off his hairline when he heard her bawdy language. Was this the way that common peasant girls spoke? He was annoyed with San Jie for her vulgarity, and annoyed with himself for being caught off-guard by her forwardness.
"No!" he refused for the umpteenth time, prudently crossing his legs upon catching her wandering eyes.
"But it looks like it's getting rusty," she pouted, reaching a hand forward as if to grab "it."
Xiahou Dun scrambled to get out of the way of her equally wandering hands.
"My wife can worry about that," he lied with a straight face.
San Jie didn't miss a beat.
"Yes, but the role of the wife is merely to look presentable and keep her household in order," she recited, as if from memory. "Taking care of the lord's needs is up to his concubines and mistresses." And with that bold insinuation, she leapt up to resume her chase of the one-eyed warrior.
Xiahou Dun grabbed his blade and stormed out in disgust, almost slipping on a pool of discarded fish guts along the way. He let out an angry curse that reverberated across the Chang Jiang, and included in his oath Sima Yi's plan, Jingzhou, the Shu kingdom, Zhang Fei's letter, Jiang Wei and Xi Tian's upcoming nuptials, and all the fishermen's daughters in China.
In Wu, a lovely rose-feathered thrush nightingale made its preparations to begin its evening concert. The graceful little songbird barely managed to let out two liquid notes, however, when it was interrupted by a loud chorus—this one human—of a dozen female voices acrimoniously raised in lament.
"Yun Er, what a handsome young man you've become!"
"Yun Er, you fool! You have such an illustrious reputation; why throw it all away now?"
"Sit down, Yun Er—you've grown so tall, I can't even see your face!"
"Yun Er!"
"Yun Er!"
"Yun Er!"
Zhao Yun goggled in dumbfounded silence, as the mob of indignant women continued to swell and push toward him.
"Ouyang, what is the meaning of this?" he asked, shooting a sideways glance at the soldier who'd run out of the gates to warn him of the ladies' presence.
"What is the meaning of this?" Dowager Sun echoed peevishly, before the timid Ouyang could respond.
She elbowed her way to the front of the crowd, bellowing out, "I believe you're the one who should be explaining the meaning of your actions, Yun Er!"
"Me?" Zhao Yun's eyes widened in confusion.
At his stunned reaction, one of the ladies detached herself from the group and took on the burden of conveying all of Changshan's distress. Zhao Yun vaguely recognized her as the matriarch of the Cui family, before the sedately-dressed woman began to speak.
"Yun Er, we're not trying to be difficult here," Madam Cui began in her trademark silvery whisper. "We merely want to hear your reasons."
And they'd better be damn good ones, the silent threat seemed to linger in the air after she'd finished speaking.
If there ever was a time when Zhao Yun felt he would never comprehend the ways of Woman, now seemed to be a fairly good candidate.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," he apologized helplessly, even though he had no idea what it was he was apologizing for. "My reasons for doing what?"
The Changshan matrons looked at him as if he were crazy—a look that was unconsciously reflected back at them, before Zhao Yun remembered his manners and hastily wiped his eyes blank. Finally, Dowager Sun (of course, who else but that fire-breathing woman?) had the kindness to bawl out the Earth-shattering event that had made these worthy ladies storm the Wu palace.
"Don't pretend to be stupid, Yun Er," she snapped. "Just tells us your reasons for suddenly deciding to marry that little handmaid of yours!"
1. Third Sister. It was not uncommon in China for children to be named according to the order in which they were born.
2. 'Xiao' means 'little,' while 'hou' means 'monkey.'