Chapter 42 — Reactions
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 3 of 4
In her last life, her father had muddled into marrying Wang Shuying, and the two families had become in-laws. To win Wang Xingyi's support, her Fifth Uncle had become Wang Shuying's greatest patron in the Dou household, and she herself had been a grain of sand that made people uncomfortable at the sight of her. She had wanted only to grow up safe and sound, and above all not to catch Wang Shuying's eye, and so she had been sent to the villa to live with her grandmother. In this life, Wang Shuying had become her father's concubine, and her Fifth Uncle, to make Wang Xingyi bow his head, meant to use her against Wang Shuying. She had become the Dou clan's prized steamed bun; and so, to have her under his thumb, the Second Old Madam meant to raise her in the East Household, right before her eyes.
One life, one death, one thought apart—and her whole life had been turned upside down!
It was absurd beyond anything one could put into words... In mid-July, her father and her Sixth Uncle arrived safely in the capital, and each sent back a letter to say all was well.
And far away in Ganquan County, in Yan'an Prefecture, Zhao Si received a slip of paper from his niece, Dou Zhiwei.
In a fury he crumpled the note into a ball and flung it to the floor. "The Dou family goes too far! I would like to see how these two families mean to make a match of it—without my letter of consent!"
Mrs. Zhao came in softly, looked at the paper ball lying in the middle of the study, bent to pick it up, slowly smoothed it open, and, pressing it flat with her fingers, laid it on her husband's desk.
"I have just questioned the man who brought it," she said, pouring Zhao Si a cup of tea. Gently she went on, "Dou Huaiying has gone to the capital to sit for the provincial examination. He has entrusted Shouyuan to the Sixth Madam's care. They were servants from Ji shi's shop."
"You mean—?" Zhao Si's gaze fell, in spite of himself, on the note he had crumpled.
"Shouyuan is only a child of five. She can scarcely hold a brush steady," said Mrs. Zhao. "How would she know which words should be said and which should not?"
Zhao Si's eyes suddenly grew bright and sharp. "You mean this letter was written by the Sixth Madam, using Shouyuan's brush."
"Whether it was or not, we cannot yet tell," said Mrs. Zhao, weighing her words. "I only feel that those few lines carry a deep meaning."
Zhao Si calmed himself and sat down at the desk. He raised the note—only a few short lines—toward the daylight... Wang Xingyi was of middling height; the tortures of prison and ten years of exile had turned his hair white early, and left him haggard and aged.
At this moment he stood before the flower beds in a coarse hemp robe, and were it not for the lively gleam of his eyes as they opened and shut, he might have passed for a farmer tottering on the brink of the grave.
"Dou Duo," he murmured, "he is forcing my hand... forcing me to put Yingxue to death!"
Wang Zhibing was aghast, so terrified that a cold sweat broke out all over him.
"Father," he cried out, "you surely won't..."