Chapter 161 — The Wooden Hairpin

She took pride in Ji Yong, yet sometimes felt that this son she had borne did not belong to her—he belonged to the Ji family, merely borrowed from her womb to be born. Occasionally the thought would surface: "If only my son were not so clever." But she never dared mention this feeling to anyone. In matters concerning Ji Yong, she was even less in a position to inquire, and could only take his hand and ask after his food and clothing these past days.

If even the two of them were like this, the rest of the Ji family was even less likely to invite trouble, all treating Ji Yong as though he had merely returned from a visit somewhere, asking this and that—but never mentioning the examinations.

In truth, Ji Yong felt he had done rather well, certainly good enough for the top five, and he dearly wanted to discuss it with someone. But since no one else brought it up, surely he could not raise the subject himself?

Mainly because even if he did bring it up, they would only smile and offer perfunctory remarks like "You are certain to pass with honors."

If only Dou Yan were here.

She would surely ask him what the examination questions were, how he had answered, and might even ask him why he had answered that way.

Thinking of this, he thought of Dou Yan's pair of bright, sparkling apricot eyes.

Spirited and full of vigor no matter the hour, never showing a trace of fatigue.

His mother's cautious questioning suddenly made Ji Yong feel utterly bored, and filled him with a deep sense of helplessness.

He was not the sort to swallow his grievances and compromise. He simply stood up, said impatiently, "I'm going back to my room," and strode off.

Han Shi sighed.

She and this son truly had nothing to say to each other.

Ji Yong lay on his bed, but his thoughts turned to the small camphor-wood box placed in the study at the Shuntian Prefectural School residence.

He instructed Zishang: "Go and bring that box here."

Zishang answered and went off.

On his way back, he ran into Han Shi.

Han shi was out of sorts, and summoned Ji Lingze for a talk.

Seeing Zishang going out so late, she asked him where he was headed.

A man whom Ji Yong valued could hardly be one to misjudge his station; hearing this, he stepped forward at once and answered with due deference.

Han shi found it strange, but did not press him further.

Early the next morning she went to her son's room to help him pack, only to find that he had already gone to the residence by the Shuntian Prefectural School.

"So early?" Han shi was keenly disappointed.

The maid who served in Ji Yong's rooms hurried to explain: "Madam, the young master said the books over at the prefectural school are mostly the Four Books and Five Classics, model examination essays and the like, and that he will have no use for them from now on, so he means to give them all to the two young masters of the aunt's household. He arranged for them to come fetch the books. He is not going to be living over at the school."

At this Han shi's face lit with pleasure, and she asked the maid: "So then, the young master did very well on the examination?"

How could a maid dare answer such a thing? She could only stammer: "This servant would not know. Last night when the young master came back, he kept wandering about the house until Zishang returned, and only then did he settle down to sleep."

Han shi was struck dumb a moment, and somehow her gaze drifted past the corner of her eye to the square blue cotton pillow at the head of Ji Yong's bed, where the corner of a camphor-wood box showed beneath it.

She could not help walking over, drawing out the box, and opening it.

Inside lay a hairpin of camphor wood.

A plain, simple long hairpin, its whole length pierced and carved with camellias of every kind: some buds just ready to open, some still mere tight buds, and others in wanton full bloom. The workmanship was nothing exquisite, the material nothing choice, yet the design was utterly novel. More than that, carved wooden things for the most part breathe a plain, natural air of good family breeding, but the blossoms on this hairpin clustered together each wore a hint of crowding, jostling eagerness to be first to bloom, so that it gave off a sense of shimmering, overflowing color.

The one who carved this hairpin had quite ordinary skill; the one who designed it was a painter of rare mastery!

The judgment surfaced in Han shi's mind out of nowhere... and then there rose before her the scene of Ji Yong as a child, standing on a little stool to make up the height, bent over the great painting table in the garden pavilion, sketching the camellias at home from life...

She could not help drawing a sharp breath, and with a "pa" she shut the box, and asked the maid urgently: "This is...?"

The maid smiled. "This is the box Zishang brought over yesterday." Then a look of puzzlement came into her eyes. "Last night I distinctly saw the young master put it away in the chest—how did it end up under his pillow..."

Han shi's head gave a great buzz, and a strange sense of dread rose in her.

She put the box back where it had been, hastily instructed the maid in a word or two—"Mind the young master never finds out someone has touched his things"—and hurried back to the inner rooms, where she charged her own wet nurse, Granny Han: "Wait by the hanging-flower gate. The moment the young master comes back, report to me at once."

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Today's update!

o(n_n)o~

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