Chapter Fourteen: A Woman Watches from the Wall

Ming Wan’s expression was somewhat awkward, her gaze sliding about carelessly. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the black-lacquered Falling Sunset zither. Her eyes darkened for a moment, then she offered a gentle smile. “When I first learned to play, all I wanted was the Falling Sunset zither.” But no one had ever cared about her wish.

“Fourth Sister, why don’t you play something? Let me enjoy it too.”

Shangyu voiced her agreement as well, and Ming Wan didn’t refuse. With quiet composure, she took her seat. Under her rapidly moving fingers, the piece “Drunken Madness” spilled forth—three intertwining melodies, endlessly shifting and changing.

The sorrow and frustration, pent up in the chest, were all released into the music.

Ming Chu listened, utterly absorbed. When the piece ended, she applauded enthusiastically.

Shangyu watched the two girls leave arm in arm, her gaze becoming deep and thoughtful. “‘Drunken Madness’ is a song of unrest. For the Fourth Young Miss to harbor such sentiments at her age—perhaps she should play ‘Nourishing the Heart’ instead, to calm her mind.”

She sighed. “These past days have been exhausting. It turns out being the center of attention isn’t pleasant at all,” Ming Chu complained.

“I still prefer the old days—free and unrestrained. Climbing trees and shooting birds every day, how happy I was.” Ming Chu stretched out her arms, miming the action of drawing a bow.

She chatted on cheerfully, not noticing that Ming Wan’s expression dimmed for a brief moment. Ming Wan murmured quietly, “Things aren’t as they were. Now you’re the most celebrated person in the household—not even Eldest Brother or Eldest Sister can compare.”

“Nothing’s changed at all. Ming Chu is still Ming Chu.”

Ming Wan acted as if she hadn’t heard. Ming Chu, puzzled, leaned in and touched her face. “Fourth Sister, what’s wrong? Why do you look so pale?”

Ming Wan brushed her hand away unobtrusively. “I’m fine. Let’s hurry along.”

Second Aunt and Ming Wan lived in Lianziju. Following the winding path through the garden, passing a picturesque rockery and rounding a wall, Lianziju lay nestled behind a grove of blossoming trees.

Second Aunt’s family was in the fragrance business, and she herself was skilled in making perfumes. All these flowering trees had been planted by her own hand.

Just as the two rounded the wall, they heard a commotion on the other side—mixed with loud male shouts.

“I think I hear Jiang Zhenyuan’s voice,” Ming Chu said, puzzled. The other side of the wall was the estate’s rear courtyard, which had a vast playing field.

“It sounds like Third Brother—is he shouting?”

“Really?” Ming Chu grew excited—she would never miss a chance to see Jiang Zhenyuan make a fool of himself. She tiptoed and gripped the top of the wall. Years of tree-climbing had trained her well; she scrambled up with ease.

Across the wide field, about twenty youths were gathered. There was a large goal in the middle; two teams stood on either side—one in black short jackets, the other in red.

Ming Chu quickly spotted Jiang Zhenyuan. He appeared to be the captain of the black team, standing at the front. Many familiar faces surrounded him—boys who often played with him.

Most of the boys in red were strangers. The match was underway; the black team was passing the ball, both the wingers and the power players.

As captain, Jiang Zhenyuan was gearing up, waiting to receive the cuju ball.

“What do you see, Chu?” Ming Wan asked anxiously.

“They’re playing cuju—do you want to come see?” Ming Chu called down. Ming Wan agreed, grasped Ming Chu’s proffered hand, and climbed up.

The two sat together atop the wall, their forms partly hidden by a nearby tree.

At last, the ball was passed to Jiang Zhenyuan. He used a lower-body technique, controlling the ball with his calf, instep, ankle, toes, and heel.

With a burst of force in his right leg, he flipped his body sideways, sending the ball soaring high, perfectly avoiding the “Willow Eye” goal.

“Oh,” the black team stared in disbelief, while the red team burst into laughter.

Ming Chu massaged her forehead. “Honestly, I can’t believe Jiang Zhenyuan missed again.”

The red team’s captain caught the ball swiftly, performed a seamless passing maneuver, and sent it steadily to the next player.

“Fourth Sister, shall we go? Second Aunt must be waiting.”

“No hurry. Let’s watch a bit longer.” Ming Wan’s gaze lingered on a red-clad youth. That morning, Vice Minister Chen Lin had brought his son, Chen Shanglu, to the Jiang estate as a guest. Ming Wan had caught a glimpse of him from afar, and this young man must be Chen Shanglu.

On the red team, the ball had already been passed back and forth and now returned to their captain. The youth executed a stunning aerial maneuver, his right leg striking the ball with precision—it landed squarely in the “Willow Eye” goal, and the red team cheered.

The referee announced that the red team scored another point.

Jiang Zhenyuan’s team looked frustrated. The scoreboard showed: Black Team 1, Red Team 4.

Ming Chu fumed. How could Jiang Zhenyuan be so useless—losing even at cuju?

“Jiang Zhenyuan, it’s always the same when we play—you always lose. It’s just no fun anymore,” said the red team captain, spreading his hands, disappointment in his voice but laughter in his eyes.

Chen Shanglu had striking features—sword-like brows and star-bright eyes, his countenance resolute and handsome. His clear gaze brimmed with youthful pride, and his red uniform made him look all the more dashing.

Jiang Zhenyuan hung his head in dejection. Ming Chu whispered, “Fourth Sister, that boy is a bit too arrogant.”

Ming Wan nodded absently. “Chen Shanglu could recite at age three—he’s famous in the capital. Talented in both the civil and martial arts—he has every right to be proud. Father admires him greatly.”

Chen Shanglu called out loudly, “How is it that Prince Jiang is so formidable, yet has such a useless son? Is there anyone capable in your Jiang household?”

Ming Chu bristled, thumped the wall, and, using a nearby sapling for support, nimbly leaped down.

Ming Wan gasped, “Chu!”

Ming Chu declared in a clear voice, “Young Master Chen, do you dare play a round with me?”

Everyone turned in surprise.

Chen Shanglu’s eyes lit up. The girl striding toward him wore an aquamarine high-waisted skirt, her face fresh and unadorned, eyes bright as apricots. The green ribbon in her hair fluttered in the breeze.

She made him think of two lines of verse: “Clouds upon her shoulders as she came, idle blooms and the pale spring.”

While he was lost in thought, Ming Chu had already approached.

Chen Shanglu laughed heartily. “I don’t play with girls—I’d hate for you to lose and refuse to accept the penalty.”

Ming Chu glanced at Jiang Zhenyuan, who snorted, “Don’t cause trouble. The loser gets flogged, you know.”

“That’s right. Don’t come crying.” Chen Shanglu chimed in.

Ming Chu scoffed, “I am Ming Chu, Fifth Miss of the Jiang family. If I dare to play, I don’t fear losing. Besides, we’ll see who ends up crying.”

The game resumed. Ming Chu replaced Jiang Zhenyuan as the black team’s captain. After drawing lots, the black team started with the ball.

Chen Shanglu folded his arms and watched Ming Chu with amusement. He didn’t believe a dainty girl could manage this sport. The Willow Eye goal was high—without strength and accuracy, scoring was impossible.

The ball finally reached Ming Chu. Her shoulders and back were remarkably flexible; the ball spun in circles along her upper body. With a powerful kick from her toes, the ball soared high.

She leaped gracefully, her skirt billowing, and caught the falling ball.

With a sweeping kick, she called out, “Wind through the Lotus—here we go!” The ball landed neatly in the Willow Eye. Chen Shanglu clapped. “Impressive! I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Ming Chu smiled. “There’s more to come.”

She followed up with “Twin Moons on the Shoulders” and “Swallow Returns to the Nest,” quickly evening the score. Chen Shanglu, meanwhile, seemed distracted and made several mistakes.

With her final move, “Turning the Heavens,” Ming Chu scored again. The black team had another point, and the match ended.

The referee stepped forward to announce, “Black team wins, red team loses. The victors receive the floral trophy; the losers must, if they wish, mark their faces and submit to the flogging.”