Chapter 52 — Refusal

In Dou Huaiying's estimation, Aunt Cui was a woman of great pride. Ever since his father had packed her off to the estate, she had not spoken a single voluntary word to the Dou family. Still less would she meddle in the family's affairs.

He forced down his bewilderment and said to Cui Da, "Very well. Stay the night here, and at first light tomorrow you will escort Fourth Young Miss to the estate."

Cui Da gave a sound of assent. He grinned, a guileless, honest grin.

As though his eyes had been pricked, Dou Huaiying instinctively shut them for a moment.

He went to see Dou Duo.

Dou Duo was cheerfully fussing over a potted asparagus fern. Seeing Dou Huaiying, he set down the watering can in his hand and his smile broadened. "Been to see your Second Aunt?"

"I have," Dou Huaiying said. "I also ran into Cui Da."

Dou Duo's smile froze on his face.

"I've told him to stay the night," Dou Huaiying went on, as though he had noticed nothing, his tone still mild. "Tomorrow at first light he will escort Shouyuan to the estate."

With a thud, the watering pot was flung down on the small table, splashing water in every direction. A few drops landed on the hem of Dou Huaiying's robe; he paid them no mind. "Father," he said, "the matter is settled. I've only been granted ten days' leave, and to make good time I haven't closed my eyes for two days. I'm going to bed first. We can talk about whatever else tomorrow." He bent and made his bow, then withdrew.

Dou Duo stared at his son's retreating back and for a long while could not collect himself... Dou Yan knew that Grandmother was "ill," and felt deeply guilty.

She knew that if Grandmother were truly ill, Father's expression would not be so untroubled. Grandmother had feigned illness purely on her account.

Dou Yan lit three sticks of incense before the Bodhisattva and prayed that Grandmother might live a long life.

Dou Huaiying, overhearing his daughter's murmured prayer, was greatly startled. It was a long moment before he said, "You—are you—"

Looking at his daughter's young face, for a moment he did not know how to frame the question.

Once Wang Shuying became her stepmother, she would hold the advantage of propriety. If Dou Yan went on playing deaf and dumb, she would only be manipulated by Wang Shuying.

Dou Yan had decided to reveal a little of her edge, bit by bit, and force Wang Shuying to keep her distance from her affairs.

So when she saw Dou Huaiying's suspicions roused, she simply said, "It was I who asked Aunt Cui to fetch me to the estate."

Dou Huaiying was struck dumb.

Dou Yan could not be bothered with him. She directed Haitang to pack the porcelain figure of Fortune, Prosperity, Longevity, and Happiness that she was so fond of into a trunk.

The figure was an auspicious emblem, its colors brilliant; Grandmother was sure to like it.

She also went to look at the dried longans she had set aside for Grandmother.

Every one of them was large and sweet.

Dou Yan nodded in satisfaction and tipped the little maid who had handled the errand a few bits of broken silver.

The maid was overjoyed and thanked her again and again.

Looking at this daughter of his—so composed and generous, so calm and unruffled—Dou Huaiying felt a strange sensation rise in his heart.

His daughter was like a gladiolus, meant to be raised in a hothouse and left to grow slowly. But suddenly she had been cast aside, into a world of driving wind and lashing rain, where she had no choice but to struggle through the storm alongside the weeds around her, and in that struggle to grow tall and grown-up all too fast... And he himself was that storm.

"Shouyuan," he asked her, "would you like to come home?"

He wanted to put his daughter back in the hothouse.

"No," Dou Yan said flatly. "That house is a mess. Just looking at it gives me a headache. I'd rather divide my time between Sixth Aunt's and Aunt Cui's."

Dou Huaiying was left speechless.

Father and daughter spoke not a word the whole way to the estate.

Grandmother stood by the roadside, craning her neck in anticipation.

At the sight of Father, her eyes at once grew moist.

"I hear you passed the imperial examination," Grandmother said with a smile. "You really are something!"

Father smiled faintly.

Grandmother bowed her head and greeted Dou Yan. "Shouyuan." That loving expression had accompanied Dou Yan through countless pitch-black nights.

Dou Yan's nose stung, and the tears came streaming down before she could stop them.

"Aunt Cui," she said, throwing her arms around her grandmother, "the dried longans were delicious!"

Grandmother was taken aback for a moment, then clasped Dou Yan tightly to her. Grandmother's estate was just as she remembered it.

Crops green and glossy, a dirt road smooth and even, and at the head of the village an old locust tree whose trunk was thick as a man's embrace, its canopy spread like an umbrella beneath which a few women sat in twos and threes, chatting and laughing over their needlework, while several children scuffled and chased nearby.

Seeing someone come into the village, they all let their work fall idle and eyed the newcomers with curiosity.

Dou Yan stared back at them too, hoping to pick out a familiar face among them.

Unfortunately, they were too far off, and every one of them looked utterly strange to her.

The carriage soon drew up before Grandmother's house of gray bricks and dark tiles.

A neat, brisk woman stepped forward to draw back the curtain, and Grandmother herself lifted Dou Yan down from the carriage.

A courtyard paved with bluestone, lattice windows pasted with white paper and bright with paper cutouts, and in the livestock shed a foal quietly chewing green grass—all of it so familiar, save that the plum tree she had planted with her own hands was gone from the corner by the wall.

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Sisters, we ate at a relative's house, and when we came out the taxis had already gone off duty. They said the New Year was coming and they were clocking off early, so we walked all the way home together...