Chapter 58: Where the Heart

Jia Cong’s move from the Eastern Courtyard to the Western Mansion delighted Daiyu, Yingchun, Tanchun, and the other sisters.

Tanchun and Yingchun showed their joy openly; Daiyu felt it inwardly, without letting it show on her face.

Since she was an outsider and not as closely related to Jia Cong as Yingchun and Tanchun, though she had grown fond of him, she still kept her guard up.

Baoyu didn’t care much either way—even visiting Jia Cong to congratulate him on his move felt optional to him.

He came along only because Jia Cong’s household had Qingwen; though he couldn’t ask Jia Mu to take her, even seeing her and speaking a few words was better than nothing.

At that moment, Jia Cong stepped out to greet them; clear, bright eyes turned toward him. Only Yingchun, older and his own sister, stepped forward to bow: “Second sister, good day.”

Yingchun looked at him with gentle eyes: “Now that you’ve moved here, you won’t face those troubles anymore. From now on, you’re just like us.”

Jia Cong knew Yingchun was not eloquent; for her to say this showed her quiet care for him, and his heart softened: “Now we’re all in the garden—Second Sister, if you need anything, just tell me.”

He smiled at the others: “You’ve all come, and I didn’t go out to welcome you—please come in and sit. Wu’er, Qingwen, go brew tea.”

Baoyu had come along just to see Qingwen, but now that he saw Wu’er, he found her equally fine—especially her delicate, jade-like aura, which bore a faint resemblance to Lin Meimei.

Especially Daiyu, upon seeing Wu’er, felt an instant kinship and affinity.

Daiyu had grown up with Baoyu and naturally paid him more attention; seeing his gaze fixed on Wu’er, she knew instantly what he was after.

She stared, dumbfounded, unable to move, a mix of pity and frustration rising in her chest—why did all the good maids end up in Jia Cong’s quarters? What sense did that make?

Tanchun saw Baoyu’s expression and knew at once her brother had fallen into his old habit; her cheeks flushed slightly, and she coughed softly, thinking how to nudge him awake.

Jia Cong had left them with the impression of literary talent, but he had long been mistreated and suppressed in the Eastern Courtyard, rarely seen by outsiders; they had assumed he was shy, timid, and awkward in company.

The objects on the desk had been arranged by Wu’er; the paper was one Jia Cong had written last night in the outer study, and Wu’er, fearing he might need it, had placed it in plain sight.

Among them, only Tanchun and Yingchun knew Jia Cong well; Daiyu, Baoyu, and Xichun had only seen him a few times in Rongqing Hall.

She wondered whether Wu’er had been personally assigned to Jia Cong by Jia Mu—perhaps she could be asked for more easily; if he agreed, she could trade any maid in her own quarters except Xiren.

Baoyu shuddered back to awareness, catching Daiyu’s glance—he felt embarrassed; his earlier behavior had been improper, and he worried whether Lin Meimei was annoyed.

Tanchun laughed: “Third Brother Jia, no need for formalities—just hand me your handwritten copy of ‘Bu Yun Suan Yuan,’ and that’s better than anything else.”

Daiyu looked at the paper and saw:

Because Jia Mu favored beautiful girls, the Jia household had many pretty maids.

Jia Cong smiled: “That’s easy—I’ll copy five or six copies for you later.”

Beside him, Daiyu tapped her teacup lid lightly: “Baoyu, drink your tea—Third Brother Jia’s tea is excellent, try some.”

Baoyu hadn’t expected even Jia Cong’s maids to be so extraordinary; Wu’er was even more charming than Qingwen.

He looked at Jia Cong—calm, luminous, dignified—and then at Baoyu’s rapt gaze fixed on the girl, and a sudden wave of disappointment washed over him.

He had expected their visit to be awkward, even tense; instead, it was serene, open, and effortless—everyone secretly marveled.

Then Wu’er and Qingwen brought in freshly brewed fragrant tea, and the whole room seemed to brighten.

Seeing Jia Cong chatting with Tanchun, he rose and walked to Jia Cong’s desk to see if there was new writing, and noticed a sheet of calligraphy paper pressed beneath a bamboo paperweight.

Only these two in Jia Cong’s courtyard stood out even more—Qingwen they had all seen; the maid named Wu’er was no less remarkable than Qingwen, and even more refined and composed.

The chill of early winter gathers, clear frost meets the morning dawn.

The fields lie bare and swept clean, thorns burn fiercely in the wind.

The hawk, hungry, refuses to serve; the horse, cold, grows prouder still.

Banners trail through forests and thickets, flutes carry the howling gales.

Daiyu, a lady of the inner chambers, was used to verses of jade snow and flying petals; she rarely encountered such sharp, bleak lines—this half-poem was vastly different in tone from Jia Cong’s “Bu Yun Suan Yuan.”

She couldn’t recall whose work it was—could it be Third Brother Jia’s own composition?

Daiyu asked: “Is this your new poem, Third Brother Jia?”

Jia Cong smiled: “I wrote it last night, idly, in the outer study—it’s not worthy of Lin Meimei’s eyes.” He reached for the paper to tear it up.

Daiyu quickly stopped him: “This poem is fresh and intriguing, and your calligraphy is excellent. If you don’t want it, give it to me.”

Tanchun and Xichun, hearing Jia Cong had written something new, gathered around to see.

Baoyu watched as Daiyu carefully folded the paper and slipped it into her sleeve, and a sour feeling rose in his chest.

…

Rongning Hall.

Jia Mu had just finished her meal when a servant woman came with news: an official from Zhen’an Prefecture had arrived, demanding to see Second Master, and had said something unclear.

Second Master flew into a rage, stormed out with many servants, and went with the Zhen’an official to the Eastern Courtyard.

Jia Mu was stunned—what was happening now? Her second son, furious, had taken many servants to her eldest son’s quarters—were the brothers about to come to blows?

She hurriedly gathered her maids, sent for Wang Lady, ordered the steward Lai Da to lead the way, and rushed off to the Eastern Courtyard.

On the way, Wang Xifeng and Jia Lian heard the news and followed.

In an instant, the entire Rongguo Mansion was thrown into uproar.

When Jia Mu arrived at the Eastern Courtyard, she heard Jia Zheng’s angry voice and Jia She’s furious roars.

The maids and old women in the Eastern Courtyard were all pale with fear, trembling.

Jia Mu’s heart lurched—among great families, nothing was more feared than brothers turning against each other; decline never came from outside, but always from within.

She knew placing Jia Cong under her second son’s care had made her eldest son uneasy.

Could Jia Cong have caused another incident, reigniting tension between her two sons?

Of course—he never had a peaceful day; it must be his doing again, stirring up trouble and provoking the quarrel.

Thinking this, Jia Mu’s face darkened with anger. She told Yuanyang beside her: “Go call Jia Cong here—I want to ask him directly: what new mischief has he caused now?”

Yuanyang found this odd—she knew Qingwen well and knew Jia Cong had been recovering from injuries these past days, rarely leaving his room.

That morning they had moved to Qingzhi Studio, and he hadn’t been seen outside—how could he have gotten involved in the Eastern Courtyard’s affairs? She thought Jia Mu, worried about her sons, had grown confused.

But she was only a maid; she couldn’t voice such thoughts. Still, she had to go summon him.

Jia Mu entered the main hall of the Eastern Courtyard and saw Jia Zheng seated, face flushed with anger, beside a man in official robes.

At the head, Jia She’s face was crimson as he roared at the kneeling woman: “You bold slave! How dare you do such a thing? Confess at once!”

Lady Xing stood pale and trembling beside him, as if facing disaster.

The trembling woman on the ground was familiar to Jia Mu—she was Wang Shanbao’s wife, Lady Xing’s personal attendant.

Jia Zheng rose at once upon seeing Jia Mu: “Mother, why have you come?”

Jia Mu snapped: “If I hadn’t come, you two brothers would be fighting in broad daylight—this is becoming unbearable. Do you want to drive me to my grave?”

Jia Zheng hurried to explain: “Mother, you misunderstand—it’s not me and Elder Brother fighting. Today, an official from Zhen’an Prefecture came to the mansion and said a case of witchcraft has occurred in our household!”

(End of Chapter)