Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Person’s Fate

Lu Ying entered the dark alley, its depths shrouded in shadow. She peered ahead, saw no one, and, suppressing her doubts, turned toward her new home.

Lu Yun had returned early that day. The moment he walked in, his handsome face was flushed with excitement. Lu Ying sized him up for a moment and smiled. “What happened, Ah Yun, that you’re so happy?”

Indeed, Lu Yun was cheerful. Hearing his sister ask, the youth, his voice still rough from adolescence, replied, “Sister, someone mentioned you to me today.”

“Me?” Lu Ying was startled at first, but then recalled the scattered rumors and laughed. “Were many people comforting you?”

Lu Yun moved behind her. “One of my classmates’ older brothers stopped me today. He said he knew about your broken engagement with Master Zeng, and he was glad. He stammered, saying he’s always liked you, and even wants to come propose. Sister, his family is just as well off as the Zengs.”

Her own engagement hadn’t been fully dissolved, yet her brother was already concerned about her marriage. Lu Ying sighed inwardly and shook her head with a smile.

Lu Yun grew anxious. “Sister, you don’t agree? That man, I’ve met him. He’s good-looking, and honestly, he seems better than that Zeng fellow.”

“It’s not that,” Lu Ying replied with a gentle smile. “Silly Ah Yun, marriage is always decided by our parents. So what if he likes me? Our families are not matched in status; it’s impossible.”

“Is that so?” Lu Yun lowered his head.

He knew these things, but a young heart always harbors a few dreams, always feels that his incomparable, wonderful sister would be recognized by someone with discerning eyes, that someone would marry her regardless of everything.

He was dejected for a while, but suddenly realized that showing such feelings would trouble his sister. Quickly, he lifted his head and forced a smile.

He smiled brightly, but at that moment, Lu Ying wasn’t looking at him. She was busy lighting the stove and preparing dinner, completely absorbed in her tasks. Sunlight streamed through the narrow window sill, illuminating her face with tranquility. Watching her, Lu Yun’s restless thoughts gradually calmed.

The next day, Lu Ying continued her writing. By now, she had read the Doctrine of the Mean several times and had memorized much of its passages. Closing the book and putting it away, she tiptoed to the shelf and took down the dusty, neglected Han Feizi, placing it in a prominent spot. In her heart she mused: The Doctrine of the Mean teaches moderation and circumspection, but too much caution can seem weak, making one vulnerable to petty people. As it’s said, the upright can be deceived by their own righteousness. With nothing else to do, I’ll read both the classics of Confucianism and Legalism.

By evening, Lu Ying had written seventeen or eighteen characters. Packing the bamboo slips into a basket, she locked her door and headed toward the academy where Lu Yun studied.

For some time now, Lu Ying had been selling her writing here, earning a reputation. Every day after school, students seeking to buy words or those whose hearts were awakening to spring would gather around her. Meeting those sparkling eyes fixed upon her, Lu Ying sometimes thought her brother was growing up, reaching the age to be betrothed.

Surrounded by the youths, Lu Ying was busy for nearly half an hour before the characters were all sold. As Lu Yun stepped forward to take her hand, an impatient voice called out, “Lu Ying, Lu Yun?”

Both turned at once.

The speaker was a man in his thirties, stout, with a large mouth and small eyes, his broad face shining with oil in the sunlight. His round face, when smiling, seemed kindly enough—though that kindness was reserved for others. Toward Lu Ying and her brother, he would never smile.

This was the third steward of the Ping household, subordinate to their maternal grandfather.

Seeing him, Lu Yun paused and glanced at his sister. Lu Ying frowned as well; with their status, it seemed unlikely for this steward to come personally.

While they wondered, the fat steward approached, looked over the siblings, now both radiant and taller, then cleared his throat and said, “Ah Ying, Ah Yun, the old lady wishes to see you. There’s not much time, come along.” With that, he turned and headed toward a waiting ox-cart.

The old lady was their grandmother.

Lu Ying frowned, pondered for a moment, then quietly climbed onto the cart with her brother.

Inside, none of the three spoke. Originally, Lu Ying intended to ask, but seeing the steward’s impatience and disdain, swallowed her words.

The ox-cart rattled along, and suddenly the steward spoke. “Ah Ying, I heard you recently saved a dozen students?”

Lu Ying looked up, glanced at him, and replied, “Yes.”

He seemed a bit surprised. After staring at her for a moment, he said blandly, “Didn’t expect you to be clever.”

Lu Ying gave no response.

“I also heard you requested to dissolve your engagement with the Zengs?”

“Yes.”

The steward snorted coldly, his tone harsh. “Such a major affair, why didn’t you inform your elders before acting on your own?”

Inform the elders? Lu Ying gave a silent, bitter laugh. She thought: My brother and I have struggled for years, the only kindness from the Ping household was that wooden house—and now even that has been returned.

Sensing the Ping household’s likely intentions, Lu Ying lowered her gaze and calmly said, “I am a Lu.”

Her meaning was clear: she bore the Lu surname and had nothing to do with the Ping household; let the Pings mind their own business. The steward stared at her, incredulous. “What did you say? Say it again?”

Lu Ying did not repeat herself. This steward, however impressive before outsiders, was no more than a servant of the Ping household. She would reserve her words for the old lady herself.

Seeing Lu Ying’s proud demeanor, the steward could hardly believe his eyes. He remembered meeting this young woman months ago, timid and stubborn, yet humble. What had emboldened her so? Was it that rescue? Just a lucky accident—did she now think herself truly clever?

He shook his head and spoke slowly, “Ah Ying, do you remember what your grandmother once said?”

Facing the siblings’ identical, dark eyes, the steward’s voice took on a condescending note. “Last year at the ancestral rites, though you two had no right to participate, you came to observe. The old lady told you then: A person’s fate is born with them. Born to wealth, born to poverty, your Lu family is a fallen house. Don’t think that having a few books makes you one of those so-called noble families, with legitimate sons and grandsons. Remember, you—Lu Yun and Lu Ying—are nothing but a fallen house.”

After repeating the old lady’s words, he paused, then continued with biting sarcasm, “To marry Zeng Changzhi was the greatest fortune of your life. Now you’ve refused it—that means your luck is thin. And don’t imagine that the imperial exams or scholarly honors are for people like you. That is absolutely impossible! If you lack the destiny, you must learn to be content!”

Hearing this, Lu Yun’s face flushed crimson, and Lu Ying pressed her lips together, her back straightening. Before the siblings could reply, a deep, magnetic, and cheerful voice sounded from outside, “And who might you be talking about?”