Page 24 of Silk and Sensibility

As the city of Nanjing faded away in mist, the boat settled into a regular swaying. The queasiness Meilin felt on the carriage ride returned, and it took all her mental capacity to keep the contents of her stomach down.

Meilin’s body never acclimated itself to the river. She always praised heaven when the barge docked to pick up supplies. Though they never stayed in one place for long, there was enough time to go on shore and savor the luxury of unmoving land for at least a few moments.

From its dockside bustle, the city of Zhenjiang was a prosperous hub of commerce. Music drifted from teahouse windows along with the smell of fruit, exotic spices, and the fragrant local vinegar. Downriver, the city of Wuxi was just as flourishing. Meilin wondered what Suzhou was like by comparison, and her excitement grew over time. At least, she hoped her feeling was excitement rather than another round of nausea.

Nine days after they left Nanjing, Uncle Meng announced that Suzhou was close. “Just past Maple Bridge, we will sail down the canal toward the city’s main entrance at Chang Gate.”

After Uncle Meng left to talk to the barge captain about business, Mama gathered Meilin and her sisters in their shared cabin so she could instruct them on how to be proper guests at Batong Mansion, the estate of Uncle Meng’s in-laws.

“When we arrive, you must remember to be grateful and to show proper courtesy to our hosts. Your uncle’s mother-in-law, Grand­mother Jiang, is the matriarch of the household. She is a widow who deserves the greatest respect.”

Meilin nodded along with her sisters though Mama’s lessons were superfluous. Though she, Ailin, and Ming­ming had never lived anywhere other than Nuolan Garden before, they had top-rate educations and would never do anything embarrassing just because they were in front of new acquaintances.

“Your uncle’s wife, the younger mistress of the house, likes to be called Madame Meng. They have a very close relationship, and she has been kind enough to let half of your cousins carry the Meng family name even though your uncle is the one who married into the Jiang family. I hope you girls will treat her even better than the way you treat me. And make sure you don’t stare at her smallpox scars.”

“Why would you worry about that?” Ming­ming asked.

Meilin knew that, while Father had made sure his children received the variolation to prevent smallpox, many people chose not to or didn’t have the chance to, leading to potentially deadly consequences. Those lucky to survive the disease sometimes had deep pockmarks that were considered ugly.

Mama pursed her lips. “Your uncle told me that some people treated your Aunt Meng unkindly when she was a girl because of her appearance, which led to her becoming extremely reserved with everyone outside of a select few. She is taking a risk by welcoming us into her home, and I want you to honor that.”

Meilin frowned. It was not right that her aunt had been mistreated because she had survived a disease.

As if sensing her heavy thoughts, Mama shifted the topic. “What do you all think of changing out of our hemp and into silk again?”

“What?” Meilin could hardly believe Mama’s proposal. By custom, they needed to wear untrimmed, white hemp for almost two more years to mark their mourning for Father.

“We are going to a new house,” Mama explained. “I would hate to create a psychological burden for our hosts by appearing all in white like ghosts. Others might feel more comfortable if we wear regular clothes with simple patterns. We will still remember your father in our hearts. What do you all think?”

Meilin didn’t know what to say. On one hand, she’d always believed that remembering Father was more important than wearing mourning clothes for three years. On the other hand, she never thought about breaking tradition in this way. It felt strange, like the end of an era, and she couldn’t tell if she was sad or excited.

The first thing about Suzhou that Meilin fell in love with was the possibility of never boarding a boat again. Sure, Suzhou was a city with rivers and canals everywhere, but it also contained streets—real, solid streets made of stone and dirt. When Uncle Meng offered to hire a carriage to transport the ladies to the Jiang family mansion, Meilin elected to walk. She wanted to feel firm ground beneath her feet and never think about riding in a box again.

Ailin and Mama, with their delicate feet, chose to travel by carriage with Begonia and half of the guards, leaving Meilin and Ming­ming to walk with Uncle Meng and the remaining guards.

Meilin strolled arm in arm with Ming­ming, marveling at the sights and sounds of the city as they followed their uncle.

The streets were so full of traffic that even their slow pace of walking outstripped carriages. In the markets, people clicked their tongues in dialects from every province or maybe even languages from beyond the Four Seas. Meilin could even swear she passed a red-haired foreigner who smelled like onions.

So many people in Suzhou dressed in jewel-toned silks that Meilin was glad she had exchanged her white hemp for an ǎo jacket of pale green with a pleated bǎizhě skirt. Wearing mourning clothes in such a colorful crowd would have made her feel out of place.

As they walked, Uncle Meng occasionally pointed out properties that belonged to his in-laws—workshops where sweaty men wove at looms, studios where women hunched over embroidery frames, and stores where shopkeepers talked themselves hoarse while selling bolts of silk. In the pursuit of wealth, the people of Suzhou worked as hard as ants.

Passing a shop with ink paintings hanging on scrolls, Meilin thought of Ailin, whose paintings were much better than those showcased at the store. Perhaps she would relay this piece of information to Ailin later.

The group turned onto a residential lane with whitewashed walls and gray-tiled roofs. While quieter than the markets near Chang Gate, the neighborhood still buzzed with energy. Vendors selling candies, clay figurines, or jeweled trinkets lined the street, hawking their wares to pedestrians.

“Home is not much farther,” Uncle Meng said as he pointed to the end of the lane.

“Could we buy some candy first, Uncle?” Ming­ming asked.

Meilin was about to tell her not to delay the group when a rough-looking man walked by too close for comfort.

Though Meilin tried not to overreact, Ming­ming suddenly pulled her arm. “Watch out!”

The man pushed Meilin and ran, a bit of gold glinting in his hand.

“He has your hairpin!” Ming­ming said, pointing down the street.