Chapter Forty-Eight: Spring Marsh Manor – The Twin Sisters

Lingran’s interest was instantly piqued. So, aside from Mo Han, the noble courtesan, Chu Yu’s “harem” already included bona fide courtesans? What a truly diverse bouquet!

Yan Yan continued, “The two ladies were specially brought from Jinling by Yang Rong, son of Lord Yang Shan, Minister of Ceremonial Affairs. Although they haven’t, like the Fifth and Ninth Ladies, formally acknowledged any lord as their adoptive father, they, too, have notable backgrounds. The Sixth Lady is a scholar, well-versed in poetry and the arts; the Seventh Lady excels in music and dance. Actually, among all the ladies, His Lordship treats these two rather well.”

“Oh?” Lingran thought that since she had arrived, she ought to thoroughly understand the situation here, so she took Yan Yan’s hand and said, “Sister Yan Yan, I’m new and know nothing—not even all the ladies’ names. Please, tell me everything.”

Yan Yan thus gave her a comprehensive lesson. Only then did Lingran realize that the woman she had seen earlier in the Yihong Hall, whom everyone referred to as “the First Madam,” was Chu Yu’s first concubine. She was the illegitimate daughter of Lord Shi Biao of Dingyuan and grandniece to Marquis Shi Heng of Wu Qing. Her name was Shi Yufeng. Because the Chu and Shi families had allied early on, she had been raised in the Chu household like a child bride. However, as she grew up, she became as burly as her father, and Chu Yu refused to have her. Even Chu Liuxiang felt that such an unattractive daughter-in-law would be an embarrassment, especially now that their family’s status was not what it once had been. Thus, she was given the special title “First Madam.” The maids and womenservants speculated that she was still a virgin and mocked her endlessly behind her back. She was also not particularly bright, often venting her temper on her attendants—beating one, scolding another—so much so that His Lordship never even set foot in her quarters.

Lingran couldn’t help clicking her tongue in relief—thank goodness she wasn’t assigned to the First Madam, or she’d have had a hard time indeed.

As for the Second Lady, Fan Yinjiao, she was originally a stunning beauty whom Chu Liuxiang had bought for his son as an “initiation gift” on Chu Yu’s fifteenth birthday. Unfortunately, her fate was ill-starred; she fell ill a few years ago and died from what seemed a minor sickness. After her death, it was rumored her rooms became haunted, so the Snow Fragrance Pavilion became a forbidden place in the household.

The other ladies were mostly daughters, sisters, or adopted daughters of important ministers at court, each with an illustrious pedigree. Yan Yan especially instructed her to address the Eighth Lady as “Secondary Princess Consort,” not merely as one would the other ladies.

This Secondary Princess Consort was named Fang Pin, the youngest daughter of General Fang Ying, famed for his campaigns to pacify the southern tribes. Fang Ying had been a core member of the Chu faction, following Chu Liuxiang into battle in earlier years, and had died heroically in the seventh year of Jingtai while saving the Grand Chancellor. Her elder brother Fang Yi had been ennobled as Lord Loyal and Valiant, and was reputed to be a shrewd operator, favored by the Chancellor. At just fourteen, Fang Pin was sent to the Chancellor’s residence. The Chancellor had intended for her to become the principal wife, so she was received with great ceremony and granted an imperial edict naming her Secondary Princess Consort; she resided in the Fragrant Serenity Hall. Naturally, Chu Yu treated her with more respect than the others. However, she was notoriously haughty, often bullying the other concubines—even the ever-composed Sun Min was not spared her barbs—so everyone kept their distance.

Having heard this “Twelve Beauties of Jinling” introduction, Lingran was left with a single impression: the myriad affairs within the Garden of Myriad Images were more intricate than those of the imperial palace itself. Each of these women had significant backgrounds, and their rivalries might well influence the political tides at court. For Sun Min to maintain her authority among such a group, her skills must be extraordinary—this was the woman to be most wary of.

Yan Yan then explained their duties and shifts: in truth, it was simply a matter of waiting outside Liang Qingcheng’s door for instructions, doing whatever was asked. Laundry and cooking were handled by lower-ranked servants. Their monthly pay was one tael of silver—a decent position, all things considered.

As they exchanged the secrets of maidservants, Qumei and Cai’er returned carrying meal boxes. The moment she entered, Cai’er rushed to Yan Yan, covering her mouth as she whispered, “Luckily it’s not our turn to serve right now. I heard Suping failed to summon His Lordship, and the two ladies are in a terrible rage.”

“Eat, eat! Our shift is coming up soon—what’s there to be happy about?” Qumei tossed three bowls of plain rice and a plate of unappetizing, dark vegetables onto the table. “The kitchen’s been busy cooking for His Lordship all day, but it was all for nothing. There’s barely a dish left for us.”

Lingran could tell these maids were nothing like the noble courtesans—likely unlettered girls. Qumei was seventeen or eighteen, sallow-skinned, slightly plump, perhaps a little over five feet tall, and weighed around a hundred and twenty pounds. Cai’er was a bit taller, but her tiny single eyelids and three uneven moles on her left cheek ruined any trace of beauty.

The looks they gave Lingran were far from friendly, and the portion of rice left for her was the smallest.

Lingran recalled she hadn’t brought any change of clothes. She wanted to ask what to do, but seeing Qumei and Cai’er’s clear dislike for the newcomer, she decided not to trouble them and wondered if she could sneak away later to fetch her things.

They had just finished eating when another maid entered, lantern in hand, face stern. “Still dawdling over your meal? Time to switch shifts! And you—the new one—the Seventh Lady wants you right away.”

Lingran couldn’t guess what Lady Liang Qingcheng wanted with her, but quickly swallowed her last bite of rice and followed the maid toward the main quarters. Yan Yan called out, “I’m coming too, let’s go together.”

Yan Yan was dark-skinned and freckled, not much to look at, but her disposition was kind, and Lingran felt lucky to encounter another decent soul.

Together they walked to the main house, which was brightly lit. The rooms were fashioned in the Japanese style, with sliding doors that displayed silhouettes on white paper screens. From afar, they could see the Liang sisters seated opposite each other, with two maids standing nearby.

After announcing themselves at the door, a maid wearing twin buns gently slid open the door. Yan Yan and the other maid remained outside.

The maid gestured for Lingran to remove her shoes and put on a pair of wooden clogs, which clattered as she walked inside.

The interior was indeed in the Japanese style: golden cypress floors, exquisite wooden lanterns everywhere—mostly rectangular, painted with lively birds and flowers. A large folding screen blocked the newcomer’s view, its wooden grid framing delicate silk painted with a branch of vivid red plum blossoms, lending the space a simple yet elegant charm.

Once around the screen, Lingran saw the room was quite spacious. The Liang sisters sat cross-legged on the floor near the tall windows, about six meters apart, with a low wooden table between them holding a few ornate dishes, each containing a small amount of brightly colored food.

They sat so low that, as a maid, Lingran instinctively lowered herself to the floor and, imitating a Korean drama, performed a deep bow with her hands raised to her brow and her forehead touching the ground.

“What kind of bow is that?” The question came from Liang Qingcheng, whose face was slightly rounder than her sister’s. Yet her words were not directed at Lingran, but at her elder sister.

Hadn’t a maid just said they were in a foul mood? Lingran couldn’t tell at all and straightened up, puzzled.