Pursuit of Jade
Chapter 7: The Hasty Marriage
Fan Changyu hastily said, “It’s a false matrilocal marriage.”
She explained her plan to him in detail: “After you and I perform the wedding bows, we will declare to the outside world that you married into my family, using this to safeguard the family property my parents left behind. My household still retains modest means. Once the house and land deeds are officially transferred, our finances will loosen up. I will hire the best physician in town for you and use the finest medicines to heal your injuries. When you are fully recovered, whether you stay or leave will be entirely up to you.”
Xie Zheng raised his eyes, the upward slant at their corners deepening the cold, detached air about him: “Are you not afraid that after I depart, your eldest uncle will come to demand the house and land once more?”
Fan Changyu replied, “Once the deeds are transferred, no matter how he makes a scene, I will not fear him. Furthermore, when you leave at that time, I will simply say you went far away on business. Outsiders will have no way of knowing whether it is the truth or a lie.”
Xie Zheng spoke with an inscrutable tone, “You’ve thought things through quite thoroughly.”
Fan Changyu could not tell if his words were meant as praise or mock, and asked awkwardly, “Um… what do you say?”
“Let me think about it.” His eyelids drooped halfway, the expression deep in his eyes unreadable, seemingly pondering the matter in earnest.
Fan Changyu could not help feeling a bit tense. She recalled the words she had just spoken. Though she had said he was free to stay or go once his wounds healed, she had not mentioned what she would give him if he departed, nor what further promises she could make him if he chose to stay.
She quickly deliberated a moment longer and added, “If you wish to leave after recovering, I will give you ample travel expenses. If you have nowhere else to go…”
She stole a glance at his pale face and the wounds covering his body. Since the inner garment he had worn the day before had once again been soaked through with blood, Carpenter Zhao could find no clean clothes for him to change into. In the end, he had him put on the old, tattered coarse-hemp clothes that he himself had once worn.
That pair of hands of his, besides various grazes, was covered in a layer of thick calluses and chapped fissures. It seemed he had not lived any fine days in the past either.
At present, he was truly sick and destitute, so Fan Changyu made a grand promise with bold confidence: “Rest assured, from now on, I’ll slaughter pigs to feed you!”
Xie Zheng: “……”
The expression on his face at this moment was truly a sight to behold.
Had anyone who knew him been present, simply hearing those words would likely have left them pondering what manner of death awaited them.
In all the world, she was probably the only woman alive with the nerve to shamelessly boast that she would support him.
Yet, were she to learn his true name, she probably would never speak such words to him again—she might even have left him to die in the snow rather than offer rescue.
Thinking up to this point, a trace of mockery had gathered deep in Xie Zheng’s eyes.
He asked, “Why?”
Fan Changyu did not catch his meaning: “What?”
He was unexpectedly patient at this moment, seemingly quite curious to know the reason behind her statement about supporting him: “You and I are neither kin nor old acquaintances. If these injuries of mine cannot heal, nine times out of ten I will become an invalid. You support me—what would you get out of it?”
Fan Changyu answered with complete honesty: “You look good.”
Xie Zheng froze on the spot, having never anticipated such a shallow reason. Only after a good while did he ask, brow furrowed, “Simply because of this?”
Fan Changyu blinked her eyes, as if saying, “Otherwise?”
Xie Zheng naturally knew his own features were far from poor, yet to have someone praise his looks so bluntly—this was still a first for him. He said, “Under heaven, there are many good-looking people out there?”
Fan Changyu said, “Yet the person I carried back from the snow happens to be you.”
Her original intent was merely to address his point about how many good-looking people there were in the world, but little did she expect that after speaking, his gaze upon her grew stranger still.
Belatedly realizing her words bore a flavor easily misunderstood, Fan Changyu hastily pressed on with her explanation: “My meaning is, perhaps all of this is guided by karmic fate…”
She, someone who judged by faces, happened to pick up someone of top-tier appearance; hence she felt that if he had nowhere else to go in the future, and if their temperaments suited each other, settling down together to pass the days wouldn’t be half bad.
If he had no such inclination, she certainly wouldn’t force it. After all, a plucked green melon yields no sweetness, does it?
Yet the other party gave her no chance to finish her explanation, interrupting her with a furrowed brow: “Once my wounds have healed, Yan Mou will depart on his own and trouble Guniang no further.”
The corners of his eyes and brows were steeped in cold detachment, as though he had already concluded she harbored improper thoughts toward him.
Fan Changyu was rendered speechless: “…That works too.”
The other party seemed unwilling to have the slightest entanglement with her, nor any wish to owe a debt, speaking once more in that cool, thin tone: “Guniang, name a single wish. For the grace of saving this life, One shall repay it one day.”
Downhearted, Fan Changyu waved her hand: “Your willingness to enter a false matrilocal marriage to help me safeguard my family property is already a great help to me.”
She resolved never to speak so carelessly again—how awkward it was to be misunderstood.
Yet she heard him say, “A false matrilocal marriage shall merely count as repayment for the grace of sheltering me.”
Fan Changyu raised her head in astonishment, looking at that exceedingly handsome face of his, and said hesitantly, “You mean… you agree to the false matrilocal marriage?”
Xie Zheng gave a slight, faint nod.
Fan Changyu almost wept for joy: “We can sign a contract as proof and set a period for the matrilocal marriage. Once the term is up, I will immediately write a divorce agreement for you and will never force you to stay. If you wish to leave early, I will likewise offer travel funds and a divorce agreement, and will never stand in your way.”
Surely this would keep him from worrying that she harbored improper thoughts toward him and might refuse to let him go when the time came.
Xie Zheng: “……There is no need to go to such lengths.”
He lowered his gaze and asked once more, “What is Guniang’s wish?”
Fan Changyu thought for a moment and said, “I wish to run the pigpen my father left behind at as soon as possible, and best of all, be able to raise a hundred pigs in the future.”
“……”
This wish was truly plain and unpretentious—and once again, it was about pigs.
Xie Zheng fell silent for two breaths: “Guniang may speak of something grander.”
Fan Changyu thought to herself that a hundred pigs were worth at least over a hundred taels of silver. Buying a two-courtyard residence in town only cost a little over a hundred taels as well—was this wish truly small?
Suppressing her conscience, she proffered another number: “Then… two hundred pigs?”
Xie Zheng: “……”
Forget it. He would simply give her more silver when he left in the future.
Seeing him sink into silence, Fan Changyu assumed she had opened her mouth too wide with her lion’s appetite, and said awkwardly, “As the old saying goes, saving a life is better than building… better than building a pagoda. Truth be told, I never really expect you to repay me…”
Hearing her mangle the proverb “Saving a life is better than building a seven-tiered pagoda,” Xie Zheng’s eyelid twitched faint and shallow. He cut her off: “Yan Mou shall keep Guniang’s kindness in mind.”
Since he had said that, Fan Changyu could hardly pursue the topic further, and asked, “Then… now that you have agreed to the false matrilocal marriage, is there anything else you wish to ask me?”
The person sitting by the window merely shook his head faintly, seemingly taking no part of this so-called matrilocal marriage to heart.
Fan Changyu thought about it and felt it made sense. Since it was fake anyway and they were not genuinely marrying, inquiring into eighteen generations of his ancestors was entirely unnecessary.
She said, “The wedding might be a bit hasty, probably in the next couple of days.”
Xie Zheng merely said, “You arrange it as you see fit.”
His raven-feather eyelashes drooped halfway, veiling all the dark colors in his eyes: “However, my household registration documents were also taken by the mountain bandits. I suppose I will still need to go to the government office to replace my registry.”
Fan Changyu replied, “That is not difficult. Since you are marrying into my family, when the time comes, we can simply add your household entry to my home.”
Now that both sides had reached a consensus, Fan Changyu tarried no longer, rising to return home to prepare for the marriage.
Before leaving, seeing that he had barely drunk his bowl of pig lung soup, she reminded him, “The soup must have grown cold by now—drink it up.”
Xie Zheng: “……En.”
She seemed unaware that the pig lung soup she brewed tasted strange?
Left alone inside the room, Xie Zheng opened the window and looked out at the sky and foothills just clearing after the snow, the color of his eyes gradually deepening.
The man who had seized his military command was a mad dog; failing to find his corpse, he would likely soon conduct a thorough search among the displaced refugees who had fled to neighboring prefectures.
He could fabricate a fake identity, yet he could not forge official household registration documents. If the Jizhou government office also began rounding up and inspecting unregistered refugees, he would be exposed before long.
According to the laws of the current dynasty, if one married into a household as a matrilocal husband, one’s registry could be transferred to the location of the matrilocal marriage.
This was the true reason he had agreed to the false matrilocal marriage.
As for that woman…
His gaze subconsciously fell upon the pig lung soup placed off to the side.
He had already granted her one wish, and she too stood to gain from this false matrilocal marriage; thus, he was no longer in her debt.
Recalling her matter-of-fact remark—”You look good”—his handsome brow creased insensibly.
Hah. Shallow.
He pressed his fingers to his lips and blew a clear, resounding whistle. Before long, a Gyrfalcon with pure white plumage plummeted downward from the high heavens, landing steadily upon the window sill.
Xie Zheng nudged the bowl toward it: “Eat it.”
The Gyrfalcon peered with its black-bead eyes at the cooked pig lung slices in the bowl, then stubbornly turned its head away.
Xie Zheng swept a single sharp gaze over, and only then did the Gyrfalcon reluctantly snap up a slice of pig lung with its beak and swallow it down.
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
As chance would have it, just as Fan Changyu finished settling the false matrilocal marriage on her end, Head Constable Wang dispatched someone to secretly send word to her, saying that Fan Da had indeed found a scribe to draft a complaint to submit to the yamen, and it would likely be tried within days.
Upon learning of this, Carpenter Zhao and his wife were so anxious that fever blisters broke out on their lips. Fan Changyu, however, remained calm and composed, saying, “The wedding shall keep simple. When the time comes, we will invite the neighbors for a meal so everyone knows I have taken a live-in husband.”
To prevent the elderly couple from worrying excessively, and for fear of letting outsiders spot any flaws, she had not yet told them that this arrangement was a fake one.
Auntie Zhao fretted, “Then there won’t even be time to tailor the wedding robes…”
Fan Changyu did not take it to heart: “Just making do with a plain red garment should be enough, right?”
The silver in her pouch from selling pork and the compensation money from that day’s trouble by the gambling den only amounted to three taels. This small sum had to be spent where it counted most.
However, while she herself still had new clothes to wear, the man who was preparing to marry into her family had none. His original garments had been slashed to tattered ribbons, and during his recovery he had merely worn a loose inner shirt draped with Carpenter Zhao’s old padded coat. On the wedding day, no matter what, a new outfit still had to be tailored for him.
Fan Changyu gritted her teeth and spent half a string of cash (around 500 wen/coins) to purchase a bolt of brownish-red fabric from the cloth shop, entrusting a seamstress who lived in the alley to make a new set of clothes for him.
Fan Changyu had her reasons for buying this dark red material as well: it could serve as wedding robes on the marriage day, and could also be worn as ordinary garments in daily life.
Hearing that Fan Changyu was to be married, the seamstress beamed and offered a barrage of auspicious wishes. Knowing the hardships of Fan Changyu’s household, she refused under any circumstances to accept payment for her labor, stating only that tailoring these wedding clothes would serve as her wedding gift.
However, his measurements still needed to be taken.
Fan Changyu wished to ask Uncle Zhao for help, but unfortunately, Uncle Zhao had gone out to assist in purchasing various supplies needed for the wedding. She had no choice but to go up to the loft herself: “You have no presentable clothes for the wedding day. I will take your measurements so someone can tailor an outfit for you.”
Xie Zheng nodded smoothly in agreement.
In order to measure more accurately, he did not drape Carpenter Zhao’s old coat over himself, wearing only a single inner shirt as he presented his back to Fan Changyu.
Fan Changyu spread her thumb and index finger apart, measuring from his left shoulder all the way to his right. Through that single thin layer of inner shirt, the flesh and muscle her fingertips touched felt warm and firm.
Although she had already touched him when he was coughing up blood from his severe injuries and she helped pat his back to ease his breathing, human life had been at stake back then; her mind had been entirely free of distraction. At this moment, perhaps because neither of them spoke, the room was so quiet that even their soft breaths rustling the air were clearly audible, making her feel inexplicably embarrassed.
On one hand, she feared he would misunderstand again and think she harbored improper thoughts toward him, so she tried her best to minimize physical contact with him; on the other, she strove to ignore the warmth radiating to her fingertips, focusing intently on noting down the measurements.
“One chi and five cun.” Having finished taking the measurement, she hurriedly handed that old coat to Xie Zheng for him to drape over himself, displaying a clear air of wanting to keep her distance.
Her heart muttered to itself: this man looked slender and lean, yet unexpectedly, his shoulders and back were broad and sturdy—the clothing size was almost the same as her father’s.
Before leaving, she spoke to him regarding the general schedule for tomorrow’s wedding: “The wedding is set for tomorrow afternoon. Since it is inconvenient for you to walk downstairs, Zhao Shu will carry you down on his back when the time comes.”
The word for “marriage” (Hūn 婚) was homophonous with “dusk” (Hūn 昏); thus, dusk was the auspicious hour.
For reasons unknown, the other party declined with crisp decisiveness: “There is no need. I shall walk downstairs myself on crutches.”
Fan Changyu asked in concern: “Will that not tear open your wounds?”
“It matters not.”
Seeing his persistence, Fan Changyu let him have his way and returned home to continue preparations for the wedding.
Feasting guests could not be omitted. She took out one tael of silver to purchase a pig. To handle the cooking, Auntie Zhao made a round through the neighborhood on her behalf, inviting several aunts skilled in culinary arts to come over and lend a hand tomorrow.
Some wedding candies and pastries also had to be prepared.
Though it was said that everything would be kept simple, adding up all the various expenses left her with not a single coin remaining of the three taels of silver.
Fan Changyu was kept busy all the way until the Hai hour (between 9:00 PM to 11:00 PM) before finding a moment to catch her breath. Having no children of her own, Auntie Zhao helped her prepare for the wedding just as if she were fussing over her own daughter, bustling about alongside her.
Once Changning had fallen asleep, Auntie Zhao even mysteriously stuffed a small booklet into her hands.
Fan Changyu flipped it open for a glance and hastily snapped it shut, half embarrassed and half flustered: “He is injured like that, there should be no need for this, right…?”
Auntie Zhao glared at her: “There will come a time when it comes in handy.”
Fan Changyu had no choice but to brace herself and accept the booklet.
The seamstress was a skilled hand, finishing a set of wedding garments that very night and delivering them over.
Fan Changyu had originally intended only to have a set made for Xie Zheng, never expecting that the seamstress would find ways to save the leftover scraps of cloth, managing to craft a matching set for her in the same shade as well.
The seamstress beamed and said, “How could newlyweds wear different garments for a wedding? Seeing that what remained of that bolt of fabric was enough to tailor another set for you, I rushed the work to finish it. My skill is modest, so don’t you go turning up your nose at it.”
Fan Changyu had previously had clothes made at the seamstress’s shop, so her measurements were already on file there.
Fan Changyu felt a mix of complex emotions in her heart: “Thank you, Fang Yi.”
The seamstress urged her, “Hurry and put it on so your Daniang and I can take a look. If it doesn’t fit well, there’s still time to alter it now.”
Since there was insufficient fabric, the seamstress cut the wedding attire into an exceedingly simple style. It looked no different from ordinary garments, yet its cut was clean and dignified.
When Fan Changyu stepped out after changing inside her room, Auntie Zhao and the seamstress looked at her and both declared it beautiful. The seamstress teased, “Tomorrow, once that bridal veil is draped, you will be a bride as gorgeous as a flower!”
Fan Changyu asked, “Since it is a matrilocal marriage, shouldn’t the bridal veil be draped over the groom instead?”
The seamstress and Auntie Zhao burst into laughter together: “You silly girl…”
Fan Changyu was purely curious; after all, if she really made that fellow wear a bridal veil to marry into her family, she feared he would fly into a rage on the spot.
Speaking of the groom, the seamstress grew curious: “I heard that live-in husband of yours was attacked by mountain bandits at Hucha Pass and saved by you. Is he handsome?”
Before Fan Changyu could open her mouth, Auntie Zhao answered on her behalf: “Won’t you see for yourself tomorrow at the wedding?”
The seamstress beamed and agreed, teasing a couple more sentences before heading home.
When Auntie Zhao was left alone to speak with Fan Changyu, thinking that this girl was to start a family tomorrow, she could not help feeling a pang of heartache for her: “Daughters from wealthy families are carried down from their embroidery towers on the day of their wedding, boarding a bridal sedan chair with drums and pipes playing all the way to their husband’s house…”
Fan Changyu did not feel melancholy. Instead, she remembered how she had suggested to Yan Zheng that Uncle Zhao carry him downstairs tomorrow, only for him to refuse on the spot with a cold face.
Could the reason for his refusal… actually be this?
The lamps and candles that burned late into the night belonged not only to the Fan household, but also to the Song household just a few doors away.
When Mother Song got up in the middle of the night and saw the light still burning in her son’s room, she knocked gently on the door and said, “Yan Ge’er, it is getting so late. You ought to rest.”
From inside the room came a man’s calm, gentle voice: “I will go to sleep once I finish reviewing this volume of text.”
Feeling both aching affection and proud satisfaction for her son, Mother Song remarked, “Don’t read too late,” before returning to her own room.
Inside the room, under the high flickering candle flames, Song Yan held a scroll in his hand yet had not turned a single page for half a day. The inkstone, brushes, and ink had long since been knocked to the floor, leaving the entire room in a chaotic mess.
The hand clutching the scroll was gripping so tightly that his knuckles had turned stark white.
She… was getting married?
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