Chapter Fifty: The Night Banquet

Another quarter of an hour passed before the door finally opened.

Both the elder and the younger looked toward the entrance—was this really Banxia?

She wore her hair in a high chignon, accentuating the slender whiteness of her neck. On her jade-like earlobes hung a pair of plain silver lilac earrings, swaying gently with her steps as if exuding a faint fragrance of lilac blossoms. Her head was adorned only with a filigree gold hairpin, which matched perfectly with her attire. She wore a gown of moonlight silk, embroidered with large hibiscus flowers in gold thread; each flower’s stamen was formed by tiny pearls, and an outer layer of sheer white gauze lent her an ethereal elegance.

A breeze carried a lingering scent, intoxicating all who inhaled it.

“What’s with those expressions?” Banxia noticed that both were staring in a daze and felt a pang of concern. Was it not good-looking? Surely it was—she thought it looked fine in the bronze mirror.

“Sister…” Anzi spoke first, “Are you really my sister?”

“What’s wrong, don’t recognize me?”

“I used to think you were as beautiful as a fairy. Now I’m sure you’re a fairy from heaven—so pretty.”

“Our Anzi is truly adorable,” Banxia said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“No,” Gansui pulled Anzi away.

“Hm?”

“You’ll smudge your lip rouge,” Gansui replied earnestly, though inwardly he mused: This shade of lip rouge is wonderful—her lips look temptingly luscious. I’d like a taste myself; can’t let that little rascal have it. Still, she should keep some extra.

Indeed, the makeup mustn’t be ruined. Banxia pouted, feeling aggrieved.

Gansui’s gaze darkened; there was no time to waste.

The Lord of the Manor was hosting a banquet. As they reached the gates, a clever servant met them—men were welcomed to the main hall for the banquet of heroes, while women were led by handmaids to the Chrysanthemum Banquet.

Gansui intended to bring Anzi along, but Banxia, knowing there would be wine at the front hall, kept Anzi by her side.

The banquet had yet to begin. The ladies were gathered in the Lord’s wife’s chamber, conversing. Banxia was not early; several women were already chatting.

“The wife of the Scholar Laureate has arrived,” a maid announced, drawing every gaze to the doorway. These few meters felt interminable to Banxia, as if she were an exhibit in a menagerie.

“Greetings to the Lady of the Manor,” Banxia offered a formal bow.

“So this is the Scholar Laureate’s wife—so young and beautiful! Come, sit beside me.”

“Madam, you’re so partial. Whenever a pretty one comes, you invite her to sit by you, while us old faces get pushed to the corners—truly heartbreaking.”

“Who dares make the wife of Mr. Li feel sad? You chose your seat, yet blame others. But I do prefer fresh colors; your bark-like skin is best cherished by Mr. Li himself.” The speaker was another lady beside her. Banxia recognized her as someone from the city’s jewelry shop whom she had seen once before. Mr. Li, it seemed, owned a moneylender’s business. Evidently, the guests at this banquet included not only scholars but also local gentry.

“You two are always jesting; don’t frighten the young lady,” the Lady of the Manor interjected.

Banxia feigned shyness, lowering her head, for she truly didn’t know what to say—better to remain silent.

“Is this child the Scholar Laureate’s son?” The Lady of the Manor looked at Anzi, who sat quietly eating fruit, and felt a vague familiarity.

“He’s my younger brother,” Banxia replied. “Come, greet the Lady.”

“Greetings, Lady,” Anzi bowed properly.

“What a sensible child. How old are you, and do you read yet?”

“He’s six this year and has read the ‘Three Character Classic.’”

“A family of poetry and propriety, even the children are well-mannered. Here, take this.” The Lady handed him two filigree gold plum blossom charms.

Anzi looked to Banxia.

“One must not refuse a gift from an elder. Thank the Lady quickly.”

Anzi bowed again and returned to Banxia’s side.

Others entered, wives of the third and fifth scholars. Banxia glanced around—only five of the top ten scholars’ wives had arrived. Soon, the wife of the second scholar entered.

She stood out: dressed in simple hairpins and a coarse skirt, her clothes were impeccably clean, and she herself was modest. Likely, her family’s circumstances were ordinary. Yet, she was frank and unbothered by the many scrutinizing glances, calmly sipping tea.

“Mother, is the banquet starting?” A young girl burst in, about fifteen or sixteen, wearing a gold necklace. Banxia noted her attire—seemed to be Shu brocade. Was the magistrate so wealthy?

“No manners. So many people here, yet you don’t bow,” the Lady chided lightly, though no one took it seriously.

“Mother, I’m hungry.”

The girl did not look at the others, merely urging the banquet to start.

The Lady doted on her daughter and ordered the banquet to begin.

Banxia found herself unfortunately seated beside the young lady. Though lively, the girl’s etiquette was quite proper, and she ate with great decorum. Banxia worried Anzi might not eat well, so she picked suitable dishes for him. Once he had eaten enough, she began her own meal. The young lady had nearly finished and was glancing about when her eyes fell on Banxia’s hairpin—the very same one she’d seen at her maternal grandparents’ house in a neighboring county, which she’d coveted but lacked the silver to buy. The next day, it was already sold.

“How much silver did you pay for your hairpin? I’ll pay double; sell it to me.”

Banxia was sipping her soup and didn’t realize she was being addressed.

“I’m talking to you; why aren’t you answering?”

She finally understood, wiped her mouth, and said, “Pardon, what did you say?”

“I want your hairpin. I’ll buy it for double the price—sell it to me,” the girl demanded, her tone anything but polite.

Banxia cherished the hairpin and was even less inclined to sell it given the girl’s attitude. “I’m sorry, but it’s not for sale.”

“Mother, look at her…” The girl turned to complain to the Lady.

“What’s the matter?” The Lady, who had three sons before finally having a daughter, doted on her greatly, especially since the girl had been frail from birth.

“Mother, I want her hairpin. Can I buy it with silver?”

Unable to resist her daughter’s plea, the Lady turned to Banxia, “Mistress Su, we’ll pay double. I have many hairpins; you can choose another if you wish. Let my daughter have this one—wouldn’t that be generous?”

She felt this offer was magnanimous.

“I’m sorry, Madam. This is a token of love from my husband. It holds special meaning; I truly cannot part with it.”

“I don’t care, Mother—I want it, I want it…” Suddenly, the girl began to cry, “Mother, my heart aches…”

“Quick, fetch the young miss’s medicine,” the Lady ordered anxiously.

“I won’t take medicine… If I can’t have the hairpin I like, what’s the point of living… I might as well die.”

“My child, you’re stabbing at my heart. Mother will get it for you, don’t worry.” Turning to Banxia, the Lady said, “Mistress Su, look at the child… Consider this my plea. Since it’s a token from the Scholar Laureate, perhaps you could speak to him in the front hall. The Lord is reviewing his records these days—I’d very much like to meet him.”

These words were barely disguised threats. Banxia was at a loss, feeling suffocated. She snatched the hairpin from her head. “No need for all that trouble—give it to the young miss.”

The girl took the hairpin. “If you’d given it sooner, it would’ve saved trouble.”

Banxia felt sick to her stomach. “I’m unwell, so I won’t stay. Please don’t let me ruin your enjoyment. I’ll drink three cups as an apology and take my leave.”

She downed three cups and left. Anzi followed obediently.

The banquet paused for a moment, then resumed its liveliness. “The Scholar Laureate’s wife truly lacks manners, competing with the young miss over things—really damaging her husband’s reputation.” Someone muttered. Banxia paused, then hurried out.

There is no fellowship with those who walk a different path.

Outside, a light rain was falling. Banxia held Anzi under the eaves for shelter, called a nearby servant, and said, “Please, could you relay a message to the Scholar Laureate inside? Tell him his wife cannot handle the wine and has gone home first; he can return later. Here’s half a tael of silver for your trouble.”

The servant weighed the silver, “It’s just a message; wait here, I’ll go right away.”

Banxia and Anzi waited.

“Anzi, are you cold?”

“No, Sister. Don’t be upset. When I grow up, I’ll buy you lots and lots of gold hairpins—to make her jealous.”

Banxia’s nose tingled as she hugged him tightly. “All right, Sister won’t be sad. Sister will wait for Anzi to buy me hairpins.”

“Mistress Su…”

Banxia turned. It was the Lady’s old maid, holding a box. “Inside are twenty taels of silver and a solid gold hairpin. Our Lady isn’t unreasonable—she won’t keep your hairpin without compensation. Here, take it; in truth, you’ve come out ahead. That filigree gold hairpin was only worth three or four taels.”

Banxia took the box, opened it—inside were two ten-tael ingots and a gold hairpin.

She took out one of the ten-tael ingots. “Do you want it?”

The maid hesitated, then nodded. Of course—ten taels was a lot.

Banxia, however, tossed the ingot to a beggar on the street. The beggar, stunned by such wealth, grabbed it and ran off. “I’d rather give it to a beggar than to you.”

“You!”

“Go back and tell your Lady—thirty years east of the river, thirty years west; you never know when she’ll be the one begging from me.”

“Fine, I’ll report to Madam. Let’s see how impressive the Scholar Laureate’s wife really is.”

The maid stormed off in anger.

“What happened?” Suddenly, Gansui’s voice called from behind. He held an oil-paper umbrella, his figure tall and blurred in the misty rain. Banxia, eyes brimming with tears, said plaintively, “Gansui, I’ve caused trouble.”