Today's Reading
"I believe she will receive a more well-rounded education at your house," Uncle stated, resorting to flattery. "I've no doubt once she comes of age, other offers will follow..."
She gave a harsh bark of laughter. "That may work on those who are dazzled by your many accolades, Tang Guanyue, but you and I know each other far too well for that."
"Of course." Uncle bowed his head. "There is a reason why not many of my associates are aware of her existence." Reaching into his robe, he pulled out the stone pendant that identified each of the citizens of the kingdom. One that stated our names, both family and given. My hands faltered and betrayed my nervousness, even as I continued the process of tuning the strings.
Madam Wu held it up to the light, examining the red mark struck across my family's name. I could see it even from across the room. A stain. Another blemish upon my record. One even more damning than a scar in a house of beautiful things.
"Her family?" she inquired.
"Her father was a minister who was loyal to Prince Yuan," Uncle said. "I once swore an oath before the Star of Balance that I was blessed to call him my brother, in this lifetime and the lifetimes to come."
"May he find peace in another life." She inclined her head, then sighed. "If—and this is only 'if'—I were to admit her into my ranks, there is no guarantee she would ever be pardoned."
"You would be the one to give her the best chance at success." Uncle stood and bowed deeply. It hurt me to see him beg, for I knew his pride. The chance of me ever clearing my record was slim, but Uncle wished for me only the best opportunity. I was beginning to understand it now.
"I cannot make any promises." She stood and helped him up, alarmed at the display of reverence, gesturing for him to sit again. "That a rank such as the yuè-hù should exist in this enlightened time is a disgrace upon us all."
To hear it uttered felt like a slap to the face. A term that I'd heard followed with spitting on the street, a bitter reminder of what caused the execution of my father, mother, and brother. To have my family name stricken from the Book of Records.
"Guxue." She looked toward me then. "A fitting name for a poet's ward."
'Solitary Snow.'
It was indeed appropriate for someone who would never marry, never bear children, never have anything to my name. I would exist only to serve, to bear the punishment of the transgressions of my parents, unless the emperor or empress ever found me worthy of a pardon. I willed myself to remain still, even as tears threatened to overwhelm me. To wait, even as my hands shook in my lap.
Madam Wu considered me for a moment, then nodded. "For a student of Kong Yang, I will listen and see."
That was my cue. One chance to prove that I could be an asset to her establishment. I chose a song called "Morning Rain," which paid homage to the House of Flowing Water. The sound filled the small room, the notes quivering in the air like dew on a leaf. The song continued, imitating the sound of raindrops falling one by one, splattering on the stones below.
For all of Uncle's complaints about my calligraphy, my lack of finesse in pleasant conversation, my tendency to stumble when reciting poetry, I knew from the first moment I plucked the string of the qín that this was what I would master. This instrument of scholar-officials, the pinnacle of refinement, revered in stories as the one favored by even the Sky Sovereign himself. The qín was capable of elegance and meditation, or fury and dissent. Its seven strings could express so much in the grasp of a skilled musician.
The last notes trembled in the air before I dared to look over at my audience. Madam Wu had her eyes closed, like she was savoring the sound, a smile upon her lips. Uncle gave me a small nod, and I knew before Madam Wu said anything, she would take me into her house. I would join the ranks of the House of Flowing Water and leave my childhood behind.
CHAPTER TWO
Uncle left not long after I gained admittance to the House, unable to delay a direct summons from the emperor for too long. He promised before he left that he would visit when he could. I managed to hold in my tears while we said our goodbyes and only allowed them to flow when I could no longer see his carriage.
The House of Flowing Water was a city within a city, I learned. It opened midday for a show that was accompanied by refreshments. Soon after, the novices and servants would descend upon the hall, scrubbing furiously to prepare for the evening performances. The shows rotated by day of the week and were renewed each season, for the mistress knew the audience was fickle and constantly clamored for new delights.
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