Chapter 118: A Superior Strategy

Luo went inside to attend to An Qinghe as he changed his clothes. An Yi led the maids to the kitchen in Jingli Garden with the dumplings they had prepared, and upon returning to the main hall, she heard Luo saying from the inner room, "Master, perhaps we should send someone to ask her. If she is feeling well enough, she could come and join us for the meal."

An Yi frowned, a flash of irritation crossing her face. Her mother would be the death of her; she was so kind that it bordered on extreme foolishness. She even considered the concubine who had tried to steal her husband as if they were all one family.

"There is no need to ask. She is ill and requires rest," An Qinghe paused. "Qiu-mei, you must remember, she is merely a concubine, a servant. She is not qualified to dine with us. Do not say such things again."

Hearing this, An Yi felt a sense of relief.

"Oh," Luo replied.

At that moment, the kitchen staff brought over the festive meal—six dishes and a soup, four meat and two vegetable.

Once the maids had set the table, An Yi said, "That is all. You may all go to the main kitchen to have your own holiday meal; you are not needed here."

"Yes, we take our leave," the maids bowed and retreated.

An Yi closed the main gate of Jingli Garden and returned to the hall. An Qinghe and Luo emerged from the inner room; An Qinghe had changed into a grey cotton-padded robe. Shortly after, An Kang arrived, also wearing a light blue cotton-padded round-collar robe.

"It is a holiday, and Second Brother is still not back," An Yi said, thinking of An Jian.

"He will be back by the Winter Solstice," An Kang smiled, picking up the decanter to fill the wine cups.

An Qinghe offered a libation to their deceased ancestors, spilling the first cup of wine onto the floor, before the family of four sat down. An Kang filled the cups for his parents and asked An Yi, "Would you like a little, sister?"

"No," An Yi shook her head, "I will have water."

An Qinghe and his son finished three cups of wine. An Kang recited: "Frozen brush, too lazy to write new verses; cold stove, wine warmed from time to time. Drunkenly watching the ink-blossoms in the white moonlight, I half-suspect snow has filled the village ahead."

An Yi pursed her lips in disdain. "Big Brother, that poem does not fit the occasion at all."

"Oh, sister, don't just read miscellaneous notes; try reading some poetry as well. I didn't write that; it is by Li Bai," An Kang said, caught between laughter and frustration.

An Yi choked on her words, her cheeks turning slightly pink. She pouted, "I am not taking the imperial examinations, so I don't need to study poetry. And you, Big Brother—you are a scholar, yet instead of composing new verses, you use the ancients to make up the numbers."

"Xi'er is right, Boning. Compose a new poem," An Qinghe laughed.

An Yi’s bright eyes darted about as she teased, "Big Brother, if you cannot compose one, you are not allowed to eat the dumplings that Mother and I made."

"To earn those dumplings, I shall have to come up with one," An Kang feigned distress, rubbing his brow before clearing his throat. "Sister, listen closely: The Winter Beginning feast is filled with joy, little sister sets a task to challenge her brother. To taste the delicacies, I rack my brain, composing a new poem to enjoy with fine wine."

After finishing the poem, An Kang drained his cup and asked with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Sister, does this poem suit the occasion?"

"Mother, Big Brother is bullying me!" An Yi complained to Luo.

Luo reached out and playfully tapped An Kang, scolding him with a smile, "You bad boy, you are not allowed to bully your sister."

"Sister!" An Kang acted the part, his face full of mock misery as he bowed to her in surrender.

An Yi lifted her chin slightly, adopting the air of a queen. "Since it is a holiday, I shall let you off this time."

"Many thanks, sister, for your mercy," An Kang laughed, placing a chicken leg into An Yi's bowl. "Eat, sister."

"Thank you, Big Brother," An Yi smiled, picking up the chicken leg and taking a bite. "Delicious."

When they had finished eating, Luo took An Yi to the small kitchen to boil the dumplings. Once served, the maids returned after their own meal to clear the table. The surplus dumplings were sent to the main kitchen for the servants to enjoy as a late-night snack.

At midnight, a torrential downpour began, only ceasing at dawn. The temperature dropped sharply overnight, and An Yi ordered the servants to light charcoal fires in Jingli Garden.

"Mistress..." Guan Er's wife began, hesitant.

"Speak your mind," An Yi said.

"Regarding Concubine Huang... should we send some silver-thread charcoal to her?" she asked cautiously.

An Yi pondered for a moment. "Send four baskets this afternoon. Tell her to use it sparingly."

"Yes," the woman breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that An Yi was not angry.

That afternoon, Guan Er's wife had the charcoal-tending maid take two young boys to deliver the four baskets to Zhuijin Courtyard.

Concubine Huang had been shivering all morning. Hearing that the charcoal had arrived, she emerged wrapped in a sky-blue crane cloak. Looking at the four baskets in the courtyard, she asked coldly, "Why only four baskets? How is this enough? Is the intention to freeze us to death in this bitter cold?"

The maid who had delivered the charcoal bowed slightly. "If the concubine finds this insufficient, you may take it up with the Young Mistress. I have delivered the charcoal, and I must return to report."

"You insolent slave!" Huang descended a step and stopped. "Lv-ti, slap her face for me."

Lv-ti glanced at Huang’s expression and stepped forward, delivering two slaps to the maid.

"You base slave! No matter what, I am still a mistress of this house. How dare you give me such an attitude? You are seeking death. Kneel down and reflect on the rules for servants," Huang snapped.

Having managed the household for over three months, Huang still held some remnant authority. The maid, terrified, knelt and kowtowed. "Second Mistress, I was wrong. Please spare me this time; I will never dare do it again."

"You know you were wrong so quickly? It seems kneeling is somewhat useful. Stay there for a while so you don't forget the rules again," Huang sneered and turned back to her room.

The two boys took the opportunity to slip away and report what had happened to Guan Er's wife, who hurried to find An Yi at Mingzhu Pavilion. "Young Mistress, something has happened."

An Yi was practicing calligraphy. She set down her brush and asked, "What is it?"

"I followed your orders, and Zhang-po took four baskets of charcoal to Concubine Huang. She found it too little, immediately lashed out at Zhang-po, and now has her kneeling in the courtyard."

An Yi curled her lips in a cold smile. Huang's temperament was still too volatile. Even though Madam Chang had told her to be patient, four baskets of charcoal were enough to break her restraint. "Fangrong, let us go see how Concubine Huang is throwing her weight around."

"It is windy outside, Young Mistress, please put on this cloak. The sewing room finished it for you just this morning," Xiangqin said, taking out a brand-new goose-yellow cloak embroidered with pale green bamboo leaves.

An Yi donned the cloak and, accompanied by Fangrong and Guan Er's wife, went to Zhuijin Courtyard.

Inside the courtyard, An Yi saw Zhang-po kneeling on the damp blue stone slabs. She frowned slightly. "Guan Er's wife, help her up."

Guan Er's wife stepped forward to assist Zhang-po.

Zhang-po turned and knelt before An Yi, kowtowing. "Young Mistress, please uphold justice for me."

"I am aware of the situation. You may rise," An Yi said, stepping onto the terrace. Just as she reached the door, Huang emerged.

"My Zhuijin Courtyard is a place you usually disdain to visit, is it not? How curious, I punish a disobedient servant, and you come rushing over," Huang sneered. "It seems that in this house, I am worth less than a servant. When a servant errs, you protect them, yet when I suffer an injustice, there is not a soul to even ask after me."

An Yi looked directly at Huang. "What injustice have you suffered, Concubine?"

Huang hesitated for a moment before saying, "It is the dead of winter, and you send only four baskets of charcoal? Is this intended to freeze me to death?"

"Do you feel that four baskets are too few?" An Yi asked, her voice calm.

"I have always been sensitive to the cold. In winter, I require four charcoal braziers in my room, burning twelve hours a day without interruption. You are so good at calculating—why don't you calculate how long these four baskets will last?"

"The household's supply is limited, so please use it sparingly. Also, remember that you are now part of the An family; it would be best to change your old habits."

"I know, in your eyes I am nothing. You can use your mother's name to lock me in this courtyard, forbidding my own mother from visiting. But do not forget, I am still your father's woman. If word gets out that your mother treats me so harshly, the An family will lose its reputation. How will your elder brother find a wife, or you find a suitor?" Huang said with a smug look. "There is no wall in this world without cracks. Do not think that the affairs of this house are hidden from the outside world."

An Yi’s eyes flickered. "How many baskets do you require to feel you haven't been wronged, and that my mother hasn't mistreated you?"

"That is for you to decide, Young Mistress," Huang laughed, turning proudly to return to her room.

A cold glint flashed in An Yi's eyes as she turned and walked out of the courtyard.

Fangrong hurried after her. "Young Mistress, do you intend to compromise just like that?"

"Who said so?" An Yi sneered as they left the courtyard. "Guan Er's wife, tomorrow, send someone outside the city to buy twenty carts of the coarsest, cheapest coal and have them delivered to Zhuijin Courtyard for Concubine Huang."

"I understand," Guan Er's wife chuckled.

Fangrong and Zhang-po covered their mouths to hide their smiles; those twenty carts of smoky, low-grade coal would surely suffocate Concubine Huang.

The next afternoon, twenty carts of coal were brought through the side gate into the An estate. Guan Er's wife personally led the men to fill every room in Zhuijin Courtyard with the coal, piling it so high that Concubine Huang and her servants could barely move.

Looking at the baskets of inferior coal, Huang turned pale with rage. "Guan Er's wife, move this coal out at once!"

"Concubine, it is the dead of winter; without charcoal, you will freeze. Do not ruin your health just to spite the Young Mistress," Guan Er's wife advised with mock kindness.

"I will not use this kind of coal! Tell her I want the finest silver-thread charcoal!" Huang shouted.

"Concubine, if I may speak out of turn—you know the state of this house as well as anyone. If not for your dowry these past few months, we would not even have porridge to eat. The Young Mistress does not have much silver; with what is she to buy silver-thread charcoal? The few baskets we had were those you ordered previously. Once the Young Mistress paid the remaining balance, there was only one hundred taels left in the accounts. If you continue to make a fuss over such trifles and the Master finds out, he will say you are not considerate of the Young Mistress's hardships in managing the household," Guan Er's wife said.

"Fine, I understand. Have them move this coal out," Huang frowned.

"Concubine, look, the hour is late, and the men have already gone to the outer courtyard. The coal can only be moved tomorrow. Please bear with it for one night. I must report back to the Young Mistress, so I shall leave now and return to serve you tomorrow." Without waiting for Huang’s permission, Guan Er's wife hurried away.

"Guan Er's wife, Guan Er—ouch!" Huang tripped over a basket, her hands landing in the coal, turning them completely black. She stomped her feet in fury.