and visit your cousins.” Snowgoose nods at her in a friendly fashion, before moving towards the door. “I know you must miss your mother and home, but you should try to enjoy your time here.”
She follows the maid to the door, wanting to talk longer. “How about you, Snowgoose? Where is your family?” She suddenly recalls that many girls who become maids have been orphaned, or sold by their families as little girls, and regrets her question; but Snowgoose seems pleased at her interest.
“I grew up here in the Capital, and was sold when I was twelve. My mother is a cook in another household, and my father is a groom. But my older brother is a blacksmith. He finished his apprenticeship last year, and just opened his own shop, in Flowers Street.”
Daiyu sees the pride and happiness glowing on Snowgoose’s face, and envies Snowgoose for having a brother. “Do you ever get to see them?”
“Lady Jia lets me visit them on holidays sometimes, if she can spare me. Sometimes my brother comes to the back gate and sends a message, and I go out to meet him. But I’m afraid I must go now. Lady Jia will be waking up soon, and will want me.” With another friendly nod, she leaves the room.
Daiyu feels a pang of loneliness. In this household full of people she spends far more time alone than she did at home. Her talk with Snowgoose is the first real conversation she has had since coming to Rongguo.
7
The district magistrate’s office is a small airless room off a dusty courtyard. When Jia Zheng passes through the doorway, he sees a young man in shabby official’s robes sitting behind the desk editing a closely written document with a writing brush. Because the magistrate is younger than he expects, probably only in his early twenties, Jia Zheng asks in some surprise, “Excuse me, am I addressing Jia Yucun?”
The young man finishes drawing a neat line through a column of text before he looks up. His face is fine-boned, with clever, almond-shaped eyes, but his hairless cheeks are marred by a few pockmarks.
“Yes, I’m Jia Yucun,” the young man says, but he neither offers a greeting nor rises from his seat, continuing to look coolly at Jia Zheng.
Taken aback, Jia Zheng says, “I beg pardon for intruding on you. I am Jia Zheng, Duke of Rongguo, and Under-Secretary of the Ministry of Works. I wrote you a note yesterday that I would be coming to see you.”
“Ah, yes.” Jia Yucun leans back in his chair, putting his fingertips together meditatively, still without offering his visitor a seat. “Who doesn’t know the Rongguo Jias? As a matter of fact, I am a kinsman of yours.”
“Is that so? I wondered, when I heard your surname.”
“Only a very distant one. Our grandfathers were second cousins, I believe.”
“What was your grandfather’s name?”
“Jia Dairui, of Huzhou.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard the name.” Jia Zheng feigns recognition.
“I doubt it,” the district magistrate says, with a shrug.
Jia Zheng forces himself to say, with an assumption of pleasure, “I had no idea we had another kinsman in the Capital. We must have you over to Rongguo sometime.”
Jia Yucun’s smile is unmistakeably malicious. “The Rongguo Jias have ignored the Huzhou Jias for more than thirty years. Are you sure you wish to change that?”
Jia Zheng grows flustered. If the young man feels snubbed by the Jias, he is unlikely to help Xue Pan. He vaguely remembers hearing his father complain years ago about a distant branch of the family in Huzhou. “We never hear from them unless they want money,” his father would say.
“Really, I had no idea you were in the Capital,” he says, flushing. “Otherwise, I would have—”
The young man bursts into laughter, as if delighted by Jia Zheng’s discomfiture. “Don’t worry! I’m not offended.” He rises from his seat and walks around the desk to Jia Zheng. “I’m not so thin-skinned! I would never have gotten this far if I were. My father died when I was
She follows the maid to the door, wanting to talk longer. “How about you, Snowgoose? Where is your family?” She suddenly recalls that many girls who become maids have been orphaned, or sold by their families as little girls, and regrets her question; but Snowgoose seems pleased at her interest.
“I grew up here in the Capital, and was sold when I was twelve. My mother is a cook in another household, and my father is a groom. But my older brother is a blacksmith. He finished his apprenticeship last year, and just opened his own shop, in Flowers Street.”
Daiyu sees the pride and happiness glowing on Snowgoose’s face, and envies Snowgoose for having a brother. “Do you ever get to see them?”
“Lady Jia lets me visit them on holidays sometimes, if she can spare me. Sometimes my brother comes to the back gate and sends a message, and I go out to meet him. But I’m afraid I must go now. Lady Jia will be waking up soon, and will want me.” With another friendly nod, she leaves the room.
Daiyu feels a pang of loneliness. In this household full of people she spends far more time alone than she did at home. Her talk with Snowgoose is the first real conversation she has had since coming to Rongguo.
7
The district magistrate’s office is a small airless room off a dusty courtyard. When Jia Zheng passes through the doorway, he sees a young man in shabby official’s robes sitting behind the desk editing a closely written document with a writing brush. Because the magistrate is younger than he expects, probably only in his early twenties, Jia Zheng asks in some surprise, “Excuse me, am I addressing Jia Yucun?”
The young man finishes drawing a neat line through a column of text before he looks up. His face is fine-boned, with clever, almond-shaped eyes, but his hairless cheeks are marred by a few pockmarks.
“Yes, I’m Jia Yucun,” the young man says, but he neither offers a greeting nor rises from his seat, continuing to look coolly at Jia Zheng.
Taken aback, Jia Zheng says, “I beg pardon for intruding on you. I am Jia Zheng, Duke of Rongguo, and Under-Secretary of the Ministry of Works. I wrote you a note yesterday that I would be coming to see you.”
“Ah, yes.” Jia Yucun leans back in his chair, putting his fingertips together meditatively, still without offering his visitor a seat. “Who doesn’t know the Rongguo Jias? As a matter of fact, I am a kinsman of yours.”
“Is that so? I wondered, when I heard your surname.”
“Only a very distant one. Our grandfathers were second cousins, I believe.”
“What was your grandfather’s name?”
“Jia Dairui, of Huzhou.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard the name.” Jia Zheng feigns recognition.
“I doubt it,” the district magistrate says, with a shrug.
Jia Zheng forces himself to say, with an assumption of pleasure, “I had no idea we had another kinsman in the Capital. We must have you over to Rongguo sometime.”
Jia Yucun’s smile is unmistakeably malicious. “The Rongguo Jias have ignored the Huzhou Jias for more than thirty years. Are you sure you wish to change that?”
Jia Zheng grows flustered. If the young man feels snubbed by the Jias, he is unlikely to help Xue Pan. He vaguely remembers hearing his father complain years ago about a distant branch of the family in Huzhou. “We never hear from them unless they want money,” his father would say.
“Really, I had no idea you were in the Capital,” he says, flushing. “Otherwise, I would have—”
The young man bursts into laughter, as if delighted by Jia Zheng’s discomfiture. “Don’t worry! I’m not offended.” He rises from his seat and walks around the desk to Jia Zheng. “I’m not so thin-skinned! I would never have gotten this far if I were. My father died when I was
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