TBTTSP - Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Xu Wanqing Tells a Story (1)
This concubine, Wang Xu, is from Luoyang.
"My wife has been unwell recently and retired early, so she could not come to greet you personally, Mother," Scholar Wang said, bowing to the woman.
The woman glanced over, quite satisfied. "It would be best to produce an heir for the Wang family soon. How have your studies been these days?"
Scholar Wang sat opposite his mother and answered her questions one by one.
In the east room of the courtyard, a woman was sleeping. She lazily got up, feeling as if in a daze. Looking around, she felt her body was light and insubstantial.
Was that truly the Central Plains of the future?
Xu Wanqing was a cautious person, prudent in all things. She deliberated for a long time before replying to the note, figuring that perhaps she and another person were sharing the same dream, each taking their turn in another's body. She had the morning, that person had the afternoon, and the original host had the next day. The idea of three people in one body was utterly absurd.
She shook her head, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of reality.
She looked down at her own feet, tightly bound and wrapped, delicate and small. Only then was she certain she had returned to her own body.
"Why are you only waking now? Mother came, and you made me lose so much face. You've only been married for half a year and you already disregard Mother. Still sleeping, I couldn't even shake you awake—" Scholar Wang rushed in, flipping the curtain aside. Seeing her still leaning on the couch, he grew even angrier, complaining that her belly showed no signs of pregnancy, that she'd been sleeping all the time lately, and that she didn't even hold the lamp for him when he read—all manner of such complaints.
Xu Wanqing listened quietly and nodded. "It is all my fault as your wife. I will change in the future, it's just—"
"Just what? I am your husband, your sky. Whatever I say, you are to listen."
She rose, bowed, and stood to one side, adjusting his hat for him.
Going from this room to that one, her mother-in-law, surprisingly, hadn't left yet. Upon seeing her, a lecture was unavoidable as she laid down the rules.
Pointing to a row of green bricks under the eaves, she ordered her to stand perfectly straight on them. After lecturing her on the Admonitions for Women and women's etiquette, she made her stand there for a full six hours.
"The rules of our ancestors cannot be broken. When your mother-in-law arrives, you must be the first to greet her. No matter how unwell you are, what does it look like, sleeping in your room?"
"Mother is right," she answered humbly. She watched the woman get into her sedan chair and depart, then stood properly under the eaves to serve her six-hour punishment.
The newly bought little maid was too young, much younger even than the girl whose body her soul had wandered into. With a face full of childish innocence, she asked cluelessly, "Since she's gone, why is Young Mistress still standing here? She wouldn't know if you only stood for two hours."
"Who do you think told me to stand here? It wasn't Mother. I made a mistake, so naturally, I must be punished. If I were to slack off, my crime would be even greater." She answered with a smile, though the piercing pain in her toes made it almost impossible to stand. She gritted her teeth and endured.
The little maid came over and leaned her head against her. "Let me support Young Mistress. I'm a crutch!"
The soft hair in her hand stirred a feeling of affection in her. She rested her hand on it lightly, but couldn't bear to let the girl suffer with her under the scorching sun, so she sent her to draw water from the well.
"There's lots of water now!" the little maid showed her a full bucket from a distance. "Is Young Mistress thirsty? I'll go pour some cool tea."
"Just wait in the study. Everything must be done according to the Master's wishes. Don't worry about me."
But the little maid brought the cool tea anyway, stepping on a stool to wipe the light sweat from her forehead. Xu Wanqing said urgently, "Quick, go check on the Young Master. There's no one serving him right now; he won't be able to study properly."
The little maid took her leave as ordered, leaving her to stand for the full six hours. When she returned, her legs were numb and weak, and she could barely stand.
She staggered back to her room. Only after serving Scholar Wang until he fell asleep did she rest in the east room, rubbing her legs.
"Young Mistress was sleeping so soundly a few days ago, I couldn't wake you in the morning. Yesterday you were fine again, but today you're not," the little maid said, sitting with her.
"It's easy to catch a cold these days. 'Bundle up in spring, dress lightly in autumn.' You should wear more." She gently changed the subject, yet it also seemed like an answer to the little maid's comment.
Sure enough, as if to prove her point, the little maid suddenly sneezed.
"You see? Go and rest. The Young Master is going out tomorrow, so get up early to prepare things for him. Don't forget."
Alone in the room, she sat down. Out of a need for frugality, she didn't light a lamp, examining her hands only by the moonlight. She still felt as if she were trapped in a dream.
She actually liked that dream. It was just that everything was new and strange, and she wasn't used to it. Her cautious attempts to cope had also brought trouble. But that place was quite free. A private school where boys and girls were in the same room—it was scandalous, yet also somewhat interesting. The clothes were novel, but also simple and practical—
It was common for women to study. She saw many female teachers, each one more capable than the men.
This dream was probably too absurd. Was it her own rebellious heart imagining this utopian world? It couldn't be.
To call it a dream, yet it was impossible for it to happen three times in a row, every other day, with such a regular pattern. Eventually, she could roughly guess when she would fall into the dream state.
Recalling old folk tales and the accounts in supernatural novels, she suspected she might have been possessed by an evil spirit, her soul wandering beyond the heavens at night to a land like a celestial realm.
That person had asked: Who are you?
She had some idea that this was perhaps also a person from that strange world, but thinking back carefully, it was probably Zhang Xu.
When she woke up again this time, she was alone once more. Her husband was not beside her, and the quilt was cold and stiff. She struggled to identify the… wall clock? She carefully recalled the few Arabic numerals she had learned and confirmed the time.
She wasn't late yet. She put on the novel-styled clothes, checked herself in the mirror, and only let out a breath of relief after confirming she had become Zhang Xu again.
While folding the quilt, she found an extra line of text in the notebook under the pillow. The characters were simpler than the ones she knew, but she could barely make them out:
Shang Yi. Go ask around about me. Playing some ancient-meets-modern drama in front of me? Where's your real body? April 10th, 12 PM. See you at Xieyu Building, Tower A, Room 1209, Pingdu.
Shang Yi.
The third person in the body.
Perhaps she had arrived earlier than herself.
That person was convinced she was lying and deceiving them. Right now, she didn't even know if they were a man or a woman. It wouldn't be proper for her to meet a strange man so easily, so she put the notebook away, slung the schoolbag over her shoulder, and went to class.
She now understood that this place was basically a larger private school. It was a good thing that some children who should have been out earning a living were still studying. She also knew that Zhang Xu herself was a bit older and didn't interact much with these children.
She was an outsider, so naturally, she couldn't disturb the original host's life too much. She was even more careful with every step.
During class, the teacher called on students to read aloud. She saw that other students who didn't know the answer would lower their heads when they stood up, so she did the same.
During physical education class, a girl with pigtails approached her. She was stronger than any of the boys in the class, studied very hard, and had previously helped her buy a pen and ink.
"Come play elastic skipping with us—"
She was pulled along without a chance to refuse. After a round of learning rock-paper-scissors, she was assigned to hold the elastic.
It seemed that long, long ago in her childhood, there were some roughly similar games.
But on the day her grandmother came and killed a chicken, letting its blood, her playmates all distanced themselves from her, knowing that her "bad thing was coming."
Her instep was brutally broken and carefully bound tight. Her mother shed tears and wanted to secretly untie it for her, but was harshly scolded for it.
From then on, she stayed at home every day, waiting for matchmakers to come to the door. They would look at her pair of feet and exclaim in amazement, "This girl will be able to marry into a good family!"
Elastic skipping… she didn't remember how to play.
After one round, it was her turn to jump. She followed cautiously behind the girl with pigtails. Now, she had a pair of large feet that could run and jump as she pleased, but it was as if two invisible foot-binding cloths were wrapped around them, making her left foot trip her right. She was always a bit clumsy.
Fortunately, this body seemed to have muscle memory. She didn't completely mess up and managed to learn it.
She was very happy.
After playing elastic skipping, the little girls started playing with sandbags. Boys and girls were mixed together, throwing sandbags. She made an excuse that she needed to relieve herself and left the crowd.
If her husband knew she was outside playing with a group of children, he would probably scold her again.
She cautiously took the Three Hundred Tang Poems from her pocket. Character by character, she checked them and continued her unfinished annotations.
The books here were read horizontally, which she found quite awkward, but she loved to read, so she quickly learned and understood, making short comments in the book.
Halfway through, she found two large turtles drawn over her unfinished annotations.
How could someone treat a book like this? For a rare moment, she was angry, her hands trembling as she held the precious book.
She thought it could be Zhang Xu, or it could be Shang Yi.
Zhang Xu was also a student; she probably wouldn't treat paper with writing on it like this. Thinking it over, it could only be the unseen and unknown Shang Yi.
She returned and angrily wrote in the notebook:
Desecrating culture! Unacceptable!
She wanted to write a long, eloquent essay, but then she remembered her husband saying, "A woman without talent is a woman of virtue." Besides, both husband and wife were literary people; if she wrote well, wouldn't that be like riding on his head? "From now on, you'd best not write any more of those essays!"
Frightened, she pulled her hand back, but she couldn't suppress her sorrow and added another line in small characters:
How could a turtle be lowly? How could a book be lowly? To use a turtle to insult a book only reveals Lady Shang's own shallowness and shortsightedness.
Having written such a rebuke, she then feared she had blamed the wrong person and added another small note:
Lady Zhang should also treasure books, cherishing and loving them.
The two turtles in the Three Hundred Tang Poems couldn't be erased, blocking two pages of text.
She was heartbroken. As soon as she returned to her own body, she furtively checked the books she had secretly hidden in her dowry. Only after confirming they were still there did she close the chest with relief.
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