Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio 01

After a light rain, several crabapple trees in full bloom graced the Yang family estate in Changqing County, Laizhou Prefecture. The third daughter of the Yang family seized upon the occasion to invite a few close friends to admire the blossoms together.

As they enjoyed the flowers, the third Miss Yang proposed they each compose a poem inspired by the crabapple tree. The young ladies dispersed, wandering among the elegant blossoms, hoping to find inspiration.

Soon, only Lin Baolu remained in the flower pavilion—a local merchant’s daughter, graceful in bearing, with a tiny crimson mole above her right eyebrow. Dressed in robes the color of crabapple petals, she seemed to blend seamlessly with the swaying, luminous blooms.

Lin Baolu, absorbed in her writing, wielded her brush with practiced ease. The hostess, Miss Yang, was the first to return, drifting lightly to Lin Baolu’s side to watch her write.

Lin Baolu’s small script was exquisite: as delicate and striking as the crabapple’s petals, yet imbued with the resilience of pine and cypress—a harmonious blend of strength and grace that caught the eye.

Observing this, Miss Yang pursed her lips in a subtle smile, moved even closer, and whispered with admiration, “Elder Sister Baolu, you truly exemplify ‘unremarkable in youth, outstanding in maturity.’”

From a distance, anyone would have thought Miss Yang was sincerely complimenting Lin Baolu.

Yet Lin Baolu, unfazed by the odd remark, continued writing with perfect composure.

Miss Yang covered her mouth with a dainty hand, lowering her voice so that even the maids nearby could not hear, “Did I say something wrong? Wasn’t Elder Sister Baolu rather simple-minded as a child?”

Lin Baolu finished the final character and at last turned her attention to Miss Yang, regarding her silently, saying not a word—like a mute bottle gourd, unmoved and unreadable.

This, in turn, made Miss Yang uneasy. Just then, the second daughter of the county magistrate, having found inspiration, returned to the pavilion.

Miss Yang immediately put on a display, eyes reddening and brimming with tears.

The second Miss Cao, seeing her state, naturally inquired what had happened.

Miss Yang lowered her head weakly, “It’s nothing…”

But before she could finish, Lin Baolu, quick and forthright, interjected, “We were debating whether a dog’s mouth could possibly yield ivory. I said our family’s dog certainly couldn’t, but she insisted hers could. I doubted it, and she lost her temper, making me wonder if my own experience was lacking.”

Then she addressed the gathering crowd, attracted by her voice, “You all go on enjoying yourselves—I’ll head home and check with our dog to verify it.”

Without waiting for Miss Yang’s reaction, Lin Baolu called to her maid, Taoyue, and left, leaving the rest speechless.

Miss Yang, mortified and furious, finally shed genuine tears.

Fittingly, the bright day turned suddenly cloudy.

Already seated in her carriage, Lin Baolu frowned at the changing sky.

Taoyue, knowing her mistress disliked overcast weather and fearing rain, urged the driver to quicken the pace. She then turned and asked what Miss Yang had said to provoke such ire.

Lin Baolu pointed to herself, “She called your mistress a dullard as a child.”

Taoyue fumed, “Madam long ago forbade anyone from mentioning that; clearly, Miss Yang dug it up on purpose, just to humiliate you! Who knows what’s gotten into her? But let’s not stoop to her level—everyone praises how clever and quick-witted you are now.”

Lin Baolu waved a hand dismissively, “It’s not exactly a shameful secret. Truth is, I was slow-witted as a child because my heart had an extra opening—like the ancient Bi Gan. I needed several years after birth to fully recover.”

Taoyue blinked, “Is that really so?”

Lin Baolu merely smiled.

Catching on, Taoyue protested, “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Lin Baolu couldn’t help but laugh, “Indeed.”

Taoyue pouted, but a gust of cool wind left her no time to scold her mistress; she hastily shut the carriage window.

Yet as Lin Baolu saw it, a moment ago an actor dressed as a martial hero on horseback had collided with—or rather, passed through—their carriage. Both horse and rider looked all too vivid and lifelike. Had Lin Baolu not spent her fifteen years learning to discern, at a glance, who belonged to the world of the living and who to the realm of spirits, she would have cried out in alarm. This, in fact, was the real reason why others had found her slow and odd as a child.

Before she could react to anyone, she always had to determine whether those before her were visible to others, and be on guard against the intentions of those whom only she could see. That she did not lose her mind as a child was due to a second peculiarity beyond these yin-yang eyes.

She was not a true child—whether she’d failed to drink the waters of forgetfulness before reincarnation, or simply borrowed a body for her soul’s return, she remembered her past life with perfect clarity, including her long-held name:

Lin Lai.

·

When Lin Lai arrived home, her mother, Madam Xu, and her sister-in-law, Tang Wanrong, had just finished lunch. Hearing the maid announce her return, the two women exchanged glances. Wanrong quietly excused herself, “Mother, I’ll check on the kitchen.”

Madam Xu agreed.

A moment later, the maid lifted the embroidered curtain, and Madam Xu saw her daughter bustling in. She laughed, “Why are you back so early today? Did the other girls start composing poetry, and our young lady couldn’t keep up?”

Lin Lai’s gaze drifted. It was true she had written effortlessly at the Yang family’s pavilion—but she had merely copied a classic poem about the crabapple. As for composing her own? She was utterly hopeless, no matter how many learned tutors tried.

So, pretending not to hear her mother’s gentle teasing, she retreated to change into home attire. Emerging, she leaned against Madam Xu and asked, “Mother, is the Cao family considering a marriage alliance with us?”

Madam Xu was startled, forgetting to remind her daughter to be demure. She frowned, “How did you know? Has someone been gossiping again?”

Lin Lai clung to her mother’s arm, acting spoiled, “No, nothing like that. It’s just that someone’s treating me as a rival.”

She was no true young girl, so she had always been kind to those delicate maidens and had never harbored ill will toward Miss Yang. Yet today, from the very start, Miss Yang had targeted her—there must be a reason. With a little thought, Lin Lai could only suspect this.

She found it unnecessary, especially since Miss Yang had rubbed salt in old wounds, prompting her to retort about dogs and ivory on the spot.

Madam Xu pressed for details.

But Lin Lai said little more—her childhood “dullness” was not just a personal sorrow, but a lingering guilt for her mother, who blamed herself for not nurturing her properly during pregnancy. Lin Lai would not add to that burden.

She steered the conversation firmly back to marriage.

Shamelessly, she was promptly scolded with a glare.

Lin Lai feigned innocence.

Madam Xu, exasperated yet amused, tapped her daughter’s forehead, “Your father spoils you too much! Not only are you lacking in modesty, but yesterday he even boasted you were accomplished in both letters and martial arts. Is that reasonable?”

Lin Lai lowered her head, embarrassed, “I’m hardly accomplished—I can’t even compose a poem.”

Madam Xu nearly fell back in exasperation.

Lin Lai quickly stood to massage her mother’s back and shoulders, soon coaxing her into a good mood. Taking the chance, she lowered her voice, “Mother, Father hasn’t accepted any marriage proposal from the Cao family, has he?”

Madam Xu raised an eyebrow and replied softly, “Their son is already a licentiate and plans to take the prefectural exam this autumn. Whatever the outcome, at his age, he’s considered a rare talent. No wonder so many in the county have their eyes on him. Baolu, why do you think your father isn’t interested?”

Traditionally, the gentry, farmers, artisans, and merchants formed a strict hierarchy, making a match between a merchant’s daughter and a magistrate’s son sound unsuitable. But times had changed: marriages between scholars and merchants were common, and many scholars abandoned the civil service for commerce. The Lin family was not only wealthy and influential in Changqing County, but well-connected. For a scholar’s son to thrive, silver was essential.

Lin Lai confided, “I don’t know Father’s exact thoughts, but I suspect the Cao family wants to marry wealth first, then seek official rank later.”

Lin Lai had met Madam Cao, renowned locally for her virtue, but had observed a woman whose gentle demeanor masked a heart burdened by desire for riches, all the while scornful of the merchant’s “vulgarity.” Such a family, no matter how talented the son, her father would not consider.

Madam Xu, after a moment’s surprise, clapped her hands in laughter. Seeing her daughter’s puzzled look, she stroked her cheek, “Your father said almost the same thing.”

Lin Lai puffed out her chest proudly, “Like father, like daughter!”

Her boldness earned her another glare.

Lin Lai shrank back. At that moment, a food box arrived from the kitchen. The maids quickly set up the table. The aroma of food made Lin Lai suddenly hungry. She slipped out of her mother’s stern gaze and opened the box: a bowl of fragrant, spicy-sour wontons, another of brightly colored five-spice pigeon, some seasonal side dishes, and a plate of steaming pepper-salt pastries.

Biting into the crisp, savory pastry, Lin Lai knew at once it was her kind-hearted sister-in-law’s handiwork. “Why did my sister-in-law cook today?”

Madam Xu replied affectionately, “I told her to let the cook handle it, but Wanrong only agreed in words.”

“Probably because I once mentioned her pepper-salt pastries taste different from Madam Zhang’s, and she took it to heart.” Lin Lai felt a little guilty—there was no rule in their house requiring the daughter-in-law to cook, especially in such stifling weather. With that in mind, she called for Taoyue, “Take the box with the double-lotus carved jade face powder and give it to Madam Wanrong later. Its fragrance is subtle; I think she’ll like it.”

Taoyue agreed.

Little did they know that opening the box to fetch the powder would soon give rise to a most curious affair.