Chapter 412 — Wei He
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 1 of 4
Jiang Yan recalled the look on Song Yan's face the day he beat Li Liang, and knew that Dou Yan had not spoken idly; she went white with fright, and never again dared breathe Li Liang's name — not before Song Yan, and not even before Dou Yan.
Dou Yan rather regretted it.
These past days with the girl had taught her that Jiang Yan was gentle and thin-skinned; that she did not speak of Li Liang did not mean she had truly put him from her mind. The more carefully a thing was hidden away, the more easily the heart went astray over it.
Dou Yan took counsel with Song Yan. "As for Li Tiaoniang — say she was of loose conduct, and out of some private grievance took a despairing turn and hanged herself. That keeps her clear of the family's shabbier secrets. As for Li Liang, he has a wife and children; to dispose of him out of hand might start talk that would reach Sister Yan, and that would be worse than leaving him be. Better to send him far off and keep him under guard until the thing has blown over."
At that Song Yan bristled like a cat.
Dou Yan's face darkened. "In this you must listen to me. Sister Yan is a living soul, not a piece of furniture to be shifted about as you please! Hate him as you like — Sister Yan lived at his side for more than ten years, and without Li Liang's protection she would likely have been dead long since. If she gave no thought to Li Liang at all, if she turned on him without a shred of feeling, then however much she is your own sister, I would keep my distance from such a heart of stone. It is just because she thinks only of others and never counts up the wrongs done her that I dare open my heart to her. Do not look only at what she lacks; think on what she has."
Song Yan went off to his study in a huff.
Dou Yan paid him no mind, and after the evening meal went to the Bishui Pavilion.
Jiang Yan sat under the lamp doing needlework.
The soft lamplight fell across her slender figure, graceful as quiet blossoms mirrored in water.
Dou Yan sighed inwardly.
Why must it be the gentler and purer a girl, the less happiness she finds?
Seeing Dou Yan come in, Jiang Yan hurried to help her sit down on the kang.
Dou Yan asked her, "What are you at? There are five or six women in this house for sewing — anything you need done in a hurry, hand it to them. Do not ruin your eyes."
Jiang Yan smiled faintly, brows and eyes all meekness. "It is only something to fill an idle hour. I shall not do so anymore."
Dou Yan told her of Li Tiaoniang. "...The magistrate's office will close the case in a few days. When it is done I will have Su Xin go with you to make offerings, which will count as fulfilling your duty of piety. Your brother has hurt Li Liang's hand; he will need at least half a year, maybe a year, to mend, and he will likely lose his post at the goods firm. But for your sake your brother means to put him away on the estate at Tianjin Garrison to recover. When he goes, you may see him off and exchange a few words. Who knows when the two of you will meet again!"
Jiang Yan's eyes lit up.
She longed to thank Dou Yan, yet feared to displease her. Her lips moved for a long while, and she could not find the words.
Dou Yan patted her hand, sighing to herself: not a shred of guile in her — whatever she was told, she believed. How was it she was so unlike Song Yan? Had Song Yan gathered up all of Jiang Yan's shrewdness into himself? Nothing, however twisted and turned, could hide from his eyes.
She talked with Jiang Yan a while; then, seeing the hour grow late, went back to the main house.
Song Yan lay on the kang with a book. When Dou Yan came in, he turned over and put his back to her.
Dou Yan found it merely funny, and asked Wu Yi, "Has the heir had his evening meal?"