Poetry Chants, Saber Howls – Chapter 5
by Little PandaJianghu Affairs the Heart Yearns For; A Thousand Li to See You Off on First Parting (Part 2)
Qingping Ward, Prince Rui’s Mansion.
The east courtyard was lush with flowers and foliage. Inside the room, blended incense burned—made from several precious medicinal herbs, effective at dispelling wind and cold—and its curling smoke drifted above the ink-wash landscape painting on the desk, so that the scenery in the painting seemed veiled in misty rain. A young girl in splendid brocade sat alone at the desk, adding the final strokes to the painting. Several maids stood quietly to the side, not daring to disturb the County Princess at her work, when suddenly the window outside went “thump thump thump” three times.
Xie Miao looked up with a smile, and a young man’s face appeared outside the window. She said in surprise, “Third Brother… it’s you?”
“How much do you not want to see your Third Brother? The moment you see it’s me, you stop smiling?”
“How could that be? I’m nothing but happy to see Third Brother.” This was the truth. Xie Miao’s health was frail; she needed long hours of rest each day, and her parents and brothers all tried their best not to disturb her. Little did they know that the solitude of being alone only deepened her melancholy. She showed Xie Ming a well-behaved smile and continued, “I was just a little surprised. I thought… is Third Brother here for something today?”
“Fuli comes to see you every few days, practically wanting to move her whole household here to live with you. Can’t your own brother come visit his own sister without a reason? How have you been feeling lately? Still coughing?” Xie Ming turned and entered through the front door, talking as he walked over to his sister. His gaze happened to fall on the painting on the desk. “You painted this? The doctor clearly told you to rest more. Isn’t painting so much tiring you out?”
Xie Miao smiled gracefully and picked up the painting to hand to her brother. “I’ve been much better these past few days. I can’t spend all twelve shichen of a day lying in bed resting, can I? Third Brother, this is Chunwu Mountain that I painted. Take a look—isn’t it beautiful?”
Xie Ming had been observing her complexion. Startled by her last words, he paused, took the painting, and examined it carefully for a moment before asking in bewilderment, “You say this is what mountain?”
“Chunwu Mountain.”
“Since when did Chunwu Mountain look like this?”
“Isn’t Chunwu Mountain supposed to look like this?”
“Who told you Chunwu Mountain looks like this?”
“I read it in a book.”
“A book?”
“It’s a travelogue by a literati from the previous dynasty—”
Before she could finish, Xie Ming burst into loud laughter. “These men of letters composing poems and writing books—they’re fine writing about other things, but when it comes to scenery, they only care about elegant phrasing. They couldn’t care less what the actual landscape looks like. You believed this kind of deceptive writing?”
Xie Miao slowly lowered her head, her voice dropping considerably. “So it’s actually different…”
Xie Ming nodded and said, “Last year, Eldest Brother and I left the capital on business and passed by Chunwu Mountain. We deliberately stayed two days to admire the scenery. I remember the terrain there very well. But, Shejia, this painting of yours is truly beautiful. Even if it isn’t Chunwu Mountain, it looks like a celestial grotto. If such a mountain truly existed in this world, I would certainly visit it.”
That last sentence was clearly praise for Xie Miao’s painting skill. She only managed a forced smile at his words, then raised her eyes and gazed out the window, past the thousand branches and ten thousand boughs in the courtyard, finally settling on the boundless sky beyond the walls.
Xie Ming, oblivious by nature, failed to notice the wistfulness in his sister’s eyes. He asked, “What are you looking at?”
“I… I arranged to meet Fuli at the fourth ke of the Wei hour, but I haven’t seen her yet. I don’t know why.”
“She probably can’t come today.”
“Why?” Xie Miao found this hard to believe. Fuli always kept her word; she had never gone back on a promise. But Xie Ming’s next sentence made her spring to her feet from her chair, her heart lurching. “She shot someone with an arrow in Hexing Ward. As it happened, Uncle Ling had just returned to the capital and witnessed her committing the act. I’d wager she’s getting a scolding right about now—hey, Shejia, don’t worry. Uncle Ling is her own father. At most he’ll lecture her a bit. What could he really do to her?”
Seeing his sister’s complexion turn wrong, Xie Ming quickly helped her sit back down and coaxed her gently, terrified that she might suffer a relapse right under his watch—his mother would likely confine him for at least half a month.
Xie Miao obediently returned to her seat, her delicate brows still furrowed. “Fuli wouldn’t hurt someone without reason. Third Brother, were you there?”
Xie Ming said, “I wasn’t, but a friend of mine happened to be there and saw it.”
As the siblings spoke, the maid sent by Ling Cheng finally arrived at Prince Rui’s Mansion. Without needing to be announced, someone escorted her to see the Yiguang County Princess. She brought a verbal message: Vice Director Ling had returned to the capital today. Lady Ling had not seen her father in a long time, and the whole family was having a reunion dinner, so she could not come to keep her appointment with the County Princess. She hoped the County Princess would forgive her.
Xie Miao nodded at this and did not expose the lie. After having someone see the maid out, she murmured, “Fuli didn’t say what happened in Hexing Ward—she must not have wanted me to worry.” She paused briefly, then repeated her earlier words: “Fuli wouldn’t hurt someone without reason.”
Xie Ming gave a couple of absent “mm-hm”s. He knew that in his sister’s eyes, Ling Cheng was a flawless person, so he casually agreed—only to be startled when Xie Miao spoke again.
“Third Brother, I want to go see Fuli.”
“Right now? My dear sister, have you forgotten that you start panting after taking two steps?”
Xie Miao reached out her small hand and tugged at her brother’s hem. “It’s not that exaggerated. I walked more than two steps in the courtyard this morning. Besides, I’ll be taking a carriage to the Ling Mansion. Why would I walk?”
Xie Ming said helplessly, “It’s no use even if I agree. Ask Mother.”
If anyone in Prince Rui’s Mansion doted on Xie Miao most, it was her mother, Consort Pei. Unable to resist her daughter’s coaxing, Consort Pei dispatched multiple servants and maids as escort, even ordering a physician to accompany them, and the carriage set off for the Ling Mansion in Zhiren Ward.
Beneath a willow tree in the west garden of the Ling Mansion, Ling Cheng was half-reclining on a couch, propped against a mica screen pillow1, basking in the sun. She was toying with a bejeweled dagger—eight cun long, its scabbard studded with rubies, its blade white-bright as snow—when it suddenly reflected several figures behind her. She turned at once, delight spreading across her brows. “Shejia! When did you get here?”
Before she could finish, she had already risen and run to Xie Miao’s side, taking both of Xie Miao’s hands and pulling her down to sit on the couch.
“I wanted to surprise you.” That was why Xie Miao had specifically instructed the maids not to make a sound. She hadn’t expected Ling Cheng to notice her immediately. She asked curiously, “How did you know I was here?”
“You coming to see me is already a surprise.” Ling Cheng picked up the dagger she had just set down on the couch and explained with a laugh, “Here, because of this.”
“This dagger is really beautiful.” Xie Miao loved all beautiful things in this world.
“What good is beautiful? Aunt Su says it’s not sharp enough—just a showpiece, all flash and no substance. Utterly useless in a real fight.” Ling Cheng wore her emotions openly. Moments ago she had been all smiles at the sight of Xie Miao; now her voice turned sullen. “A while back, Father wrote in a letter that he’d acquired a new dagger—one that could cut hair and cleave iron2. He said he’d bring it back for me when he returned to the capital. I waited so long, and when he finally comes back, he won’t give it to me!”
“Is Uncle angry because you hurt someone? I’ll explain to him later. The person you hurt must have been a bad man.”
“You know me best, Shejia. That man—” Ling Cheng was about to describe the man’s misdeeds when she paused, suddenly sensing something amiss. “How do you know about this? I told everyone not to tell you.”
Xie Miao laughed. “Hexing Ward has so many people. Word was bound to reach my ears.”
Ling Cheng saw the point at once. “You don’t need to worry. You know Father never hits me. A few scoldings don’t scare me at all. Actually, Father already knows I was punishing a bad person, but just now he went on about how weapons are instruments of violence3 and my temperament is too unruly. He said I can’t touch any weapons until I understand reason—even confiscated my bow! I reckon he won’t ever give me that dagger either. I just don’t understand—what’s wrong with me punishing a villain?”
Xie Miao nodded in agreement. Though gentle by nature, and though her chronic illness since childhood had made her intimately familiar with the torment of pain and injury—not only did she dislike violence, she would frown at the slightest scratch on anyone—she still understood right from wrong. She knew that the prerequisite for promoting good was punishing evil. Uncle Ling’s criticism of Fuli was quite unreasonable.
But Ling Bingzhong was her elder, after all. She could not openly say he was wrong, so she smiled and said, “There must be more than one dagger in the world that can cut hair and cleave iron. Tomorrow I’ll ask Father or Eldest Brother to find another one for you.”
Ling Cheng’s eyes curved into crescents at this, and she finally smiled again. “I have something for you too.” She pulled a book from her robes. Printed on the cover were five large characters: 《Shu’s Nine Mountains Record》.
This was not the first book Ling Cheng had given Xie Miao.
Starting four years ago, when the elders of both families had arranged a tutor to begin their education, Ling Cheng had noticed that Xie Miao loved books about landscapes and travelogues most, and so she often collected them for her. Ordinarily, when Xie Miao received such books, joy would fill her eyes and brows, and Ling Cheng would be even more delighted to see it. But today, though Xie Miao also thanked Ling Cheng and offered a small smile, Ling Cheng detected the strain in it. She asked at once:
“You don’t like this book? Why aren’t you happy?”
Xie Miao had been about to say she didn’t dislike it, but then thought better of it—Fuli was the type to get to the bottom of anything that puzzled her, so brushing her off wouldn’t work. She recounted her conversation with Xie Ming: “Third Brother said that isn’t what Chunwu Mountain really looks like… Now I’m not sure how many of the books I’ve read before were true, and how many were false…”
This was a question Ling Cheng could not answer either.
The current dynasty had open customs, and women were free to go out as they pleased. Ling Cheng was restless by nature; in the years since she could remember, she had roamed nearly every corner of Chang’an. But what the world beyond Chang’an looked like, she had never seen either. She fell silent for a moment, then suddenly grasped Xie Miao’s hand. “Then we’ll go see it later! When we’ve both grown up, your illness will surely be cured, and I’ll go with you to see everything!”
Xie Miao’s lips curved up slightly at these words, then she immediately lowered her head, afraid that Ling Cheng would once again notice her emotional fluctuation. She said, “But you want to become a great general and fight on the battlefield. How will you have time to go with me?”
As the daughter of a military house, Ling Cheng had been immersed in martial affairs since childhood, dreaming of becoming a celebrated general like her father. She often spoke of this aspiration, but women serving as officials or generals was exceedingly rare. The elders would smile and say “good,” but in their hearts they treated it as a child’s fancy, humoring her. Only Xie Miao truly supported her dream.
Xie Miao naturally understood that this path was extremely difficult. She had thought it through carefully: when they were a bit older, before her hair-pinning ceremony4, she would petition Grandfather to hold a martial competition in the capital, with Ling Cheng among the many young scions of military families participating, testing their military strategy.
As long as Fuli performed outstandingly, Grandfather was a wise and sage emperor—perhaps he would give her a chance.
Ling Cheng was also dreaming about the future. She mused, “Then I’ll first accompany you to see all the beautiful rivers and mountains, and after that, I’ll take to the battlefield!”
Xie Miao said blankly, “Can… can it really work that way? But I see Uncle is usually very busy.”
Ling Cheng said, “That I can’t control. Your affairs matter more than anything in this world. I have to accompany you first.”
She said this without hesitation, blurting it out. But Xie Miao knew her words were absolutely sincere and unadulterated. Rather than feeling joy, a few threads of quiet sorrow stirred deep within her heart.
Ling Cheng, guessing she was worrying about her illness, quickly shared some good news: “There’s something else you should know. Just now, Father was talking to your father—he’s found out about another divine physician. Maybe this time, your illness can be completely cured.”
Xie Miao said, “My father?”
Ling Cheng nodded. “Before you arrived, Uncle had already come to our house.”
Had it not been for Prince Rui and Ling Bingzhong having matters to discuss, Ling Cheng would surely still be receiving her father’s lecture—how could she be leisurely reclining in the west garden, basking in the sun?
“But Father had only just brought up the topic and hadn’t yet explained which divine physician it was, when Uncle said to discuss that later—he had a more urgent matter to discuss with Father first.”
Ling Cheng couldn’t very well criticize Xie Miao’s father in front of her, but inwardly she had long been unable to hold back her grumbling. What in this world could possibly be more important than one’s own daughter?
“Shejia, how about we go listen to what Uncle and Father are talking about right now?”
Footnotes
- 云母枕屏 | yúnmǔ zhěnpíng | A decorative screen panel inlaid with mica sheets, used as a backrest on reclining couches in Tang-era furniture.
- 吹毛利刃，削铁如泥 | chuīmáo lìrèn, xiāo tiě rú ní | Classical paired idioms: a blade so sharp it severs hair blown against it, and carves iron as though it were clay; denoting peerless edge quality.
- 兵者凶器 | bīng zhě xiōngqì | Classical allusion from texts such as the Han Feizi and Records of the Grand Historian: 'weapons are instruments of misfortune,' expressing the traditional view that arms are inherently dangerous and must be wielded with restraint.
- 及笄 | jíjī | The hair-pinning ceremony marking a girl's coming of age at fifteen, signifying adulthood in traditional Chinese culture.
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