The Story of Ming Lan

In early February, the lingering chill of spring still permeated the air as tender green buds sprouted from branches. Minglan, in high spirits, decided to welcome spring by practicing calligraphy. She unfolded the desk that had been unused all winter and had Danju grind a pot of thick ink for her. Just as she lifted her brush to write the line "Beyond the bamboo, three or two peach blossoms," Molan dropped by for a visit. Minglan quickly set down her brush and welcomed her in with a smile.

After exchanging pleasantries, Molan noticed the snow-white rice paper spread on the rosewood desk carved with crabapple blossoms and inlaid with marble, the ink still wet. She remarked with a chuckle, "I've interrupted your studies, sister." Minglan smiled lightly. "I'm just amusing myself with writing—it hardly counts as serious practice."

Molan stepped to the desk, picked up the paper, and scrutinized it critically. "How dare you write with a large brush with such feeble skill? There's no strength in your strokes—the characters look all cramped together!"

Minglan, taken aback by the blunt criticism, replied awkwardly, "My regular script is barely presentable, and that's only from copying sutras." Seriously, she thought, practicing in my spare time to earn a few talent points for the college entrance exam is hardly the same as dedicated artists who train day and night!

Molan shot Minglan a disdainful glance and, without a word, picked up the brush. With a few swift strokes, she added the line "The river warms in spring, ducks know first." Her characters were indeed full and rounded, far superior to Minglan's. Still, though Minglan lacked skill, she could tell these characters didn't measure up to Old Madam's calligraphy.

Of course, Minglan applauded loudly and praised Molan's work enthusiastically. Molan, quite pleased with her own writing, continued with the next lines. Just as she finished the last character, adding a bold dot to the character for "time," Rulan arrived. Frowning at the sight of Molan, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

Before Minglan could compliment Molan's final stroke, she hurried to welcome Rulan inside. Yancao, who had lifted the door curtain, was already accustomed to such visits and went to brew tea without being asked. Molan set down her brush, emerged from behind the desk, and retorted with a smile, "You can come, but I can't?" Minglan quickly stepped in to smooth things over, joking at her own expense, "It's mainly because my place is just too good—the tea, the snacks, and especially the host!"

Both Molan and Rulan scoffed at her in unison.

Somehow, the three sisters had begun gathering often at Twilight Cang Study. Truth be told, Rulan's Taoran Pavilion was the most comfortable and luxurious, but every time Molan visited, she'd mock it as "vulgar and tacky." Meanwhile, Molan's Shanyue Residence was the most elegant and pleasant, filled with calligraphy supplies, yet Rulan would taunt her as a "pretentious scholar" upon entering. Often, arguments would erupt after just a few words. Only Minglan had the thick skin to shrug it off.

Rulan walked around to the back of the desk to examine the large characters. Though she couldn't judge the quality of the calligraphy, she felt compelled to comment, "Why not use Swallow Stationery? Didn't my uncle send plenty for the New Year?" Minglan clasped her hands, hesitant. "That's too expensive for everyday practice, isn't it?"

Molan snorted coldly. "Calligraphy is about brush technique. Even Wang Xizhi's 'Preface to the Orchid Pavilion' was written on ordinary paper, yet it's been passed down for ages. Was it because of the paper?"

Minglan quickly interjected, "Both sisters are right, but with my level of skill, I'm only suited to this plain paper. Next time you come to write here, please bring your own fine stationery!"She wasn't afraid of them quarreling, but she preferred the battlefield not to be Twilight Cang Study. Last time they had a falling out, Molan casually smashed an enamel incense box, while Rulan flung and broke three pink-glazed Xishi teacups in one sweep. Since she couldn't very well demand compensation, Minglan felt quite pained about it.

Yancao came up with a tea tray, followed by Danju carrying a basket of pastries. Minglan quickly pulled them to sit by the table, smiling, "These are the red bean pastries Mama Fang made yesterday. I snagged them from Old Madam's place. Sisters, have a taste."

Molan, as usual, commented on the tea for a few sentences, and Rulan, following routine, critiqued the pastries for a few remarks, thus calming the atmosphere.

After a few exchanges, the conversation turned to yesterday's visitors. Rulan said, "Mother mentioned that He Laofuren is quite skilled in medicine. She came to chat with Old Madam, but after just a few words, she took Old Madam's pulse to check her health, so we weren't called to pay our respects."

Molan elegantly stirred her teacup lid and smiled, "I heard the young Master He who came with her is also studying medicine. Ah... practicing medicine is fine, but even if one enters the Imperial Hospital and rises to become a director or vice-director, it's at most a fifth or sixth rank."

Rulan snorted, "I hope you never need to see a doctor in your life!" Molan ignored Rulan and only glanced at Minglan, smiling meaningfully, "However... it's good that their family reputation is clean and the household is simple."

Minglan lowered her head to drink tea and didn't respond. Unaware of the underlying context, Rulan changed the subject on her own, "The day after tomorrow when we go to Guangji Temple, Sixth Sister, have you decided what to wear? I'm going to wear that filigree pearl hairpin Big Sister gave me. The jeweled shrimp-shaped tassels shake so amusingly."

Minglan smiled, "As for me, I'll wear that set of silver filigree lotus hair accessories with jadeite." Rulan wrinkled her nose disdainfully, "Too shabby! Can't you help our family save face? If you don't have anything nice, I'll lend you some!" she said overbearingly.

Minglan didn't mind, putting down her teacup and saying seriously, "We're going to offer incense and pray for blessings. If you wear so much glittering gold, be careful not to dazzle the Bodhisattva's eyes so he can't hear your prayers! Save face? Be careful you catch the eye of robbers—that would really be saving face!"

Rulan glared, "Who would dare rob anyone at the emperor's feet? After being cooped up for so many days, I want to have a good time. I'm also going to wear Madame's gold hairpin with clustered gemstones and the pearl necklace.Her flaunting was palpable.

"Heavens! With all that on you could open a jewelry shop. Fifth Sister, have mercy and spare your poor neck!" Minglan teased. Rulan reached out to pinch her cheek, and Minglan quickly dodged.

Seeing them laughing and playing together, Molan felt somewhat left out and said coldly, "In previous years we always went to offer incense during the first month. Only this year it's been delayed until now. What's so interesting about it? And you're still so happy about it."

Rulan immediately turned back and retorted, "Old Madam said the capital is full of mixed company. If we went to offer incense during the crowded first month, we couldn't be properly looked after. Who knows what trouble might arise! Do you think this is Dengzhou, where we can just drive away all the idlers inside and outside the temple? What if some ruffians caught sight of us?"Molan chuckled lightly, "Sister must have read too many operas to be so overly cautious. During the first month, it's mostly prestigious and noble families attending. Even if we aren't vigilant enough, they will be strictly guarded. What is there to fear? Old Madam is far too careful—she really is getting old."

Minglan felt uncomfortable upon hearing this and frowned. "Are you saying there are no libertines among noble families? With sister's stunning beauty that captivates all who see her, it's better to cause less trouble for Father and our elder brother." Her tone unconsciously carried a hint of coldness.

Molan choked back her words, gritted her teeth, and said angrily, "What do you mean by that, sister?"

Minglan smiled faintly, "What do you think, sister?"

Molan glared at her resentfully, but Minglan didn't back down. Rulan watched with great excitement, but unfortunately, the two only locked eyes for a moment before Minglan averted her gaze and smiled gently. "What I mean is, our elders always consider things more thoroughly than we do. As juniors, we should simply obey."

Molan sat down indignantly. Rulan, still unsatisfied, was about to add fuel to the fire when the curtain was lifted and a clever, pretty young maid slipped in—it was Xiaoxique, Rulan's personal maid. She bowed respectfully to the girls and then reported to Rulan with a smile, "Fifth Miss, the Madam is calling for you."

Rulan lightly slapped her own cheek and exclaimed, "Oh, I forgot again! The Madam asked me to help her review some account books." She deliberately glanced at the two Lans, not without pride, "...Fourth Sister, Sixth Sister, I'll take my leave first." With that, she hurried away.

After Rulan had gone, Molan slammed the table heavily and said bitterly, "Look at her arrogance! The Madam is far too partial!"

Minglan picked up her teacup again, gently blowing on it, and remarked, "Consort Lin teaches Fourth Sister poetry and songs, the Madam teaches Fifth Sister household management and accounting, and I learn needlework from Mama Fang. Isn't that quite good?"

Molan looked at Minglan, feeling as though she had punched cotton, her anger simmering inside. She then said sarcastically, "I heard that the grandfather of that young Master He has already retired, and there's only one uncle serving as a prefect in the south. Who knows if he'll look after his nephew?"

Minglan remained silent, listening quietly until Molan finished. Only then did she set down her teacup, turned slightly to face Molan directly, and said seriously, "Sister, do you still remember Meiyun from Dengzhou?"

Molan was taken aback by the sudden mention and paused before replying, "I remember. What about her?"

Minglan spoke slowly, "Meiyun was the concubine-born daughter of Prefect Liu's family. Prefect Liu's wife was considered kind and benevolent. Last year, she married a local scholar from a poor family." Seeing Molan's confusion, Minglan continued, "Not just her—we've been in Dengzhou for so many years. Among all the young ladies you've befriended, how have the concubine-born daughters fared in their marriages?"Molan gradually understood her meaning, her face turning quite unpleasant, delicate eyebrows arching into sharp angles. Minglan continued, "Speaking of which, the luckiest among them was Sister Yunzhu, who married the legitimate son of a colleague—and that was only because her mistress had no daughters of her own and treated Sister Yunzhu as her own. As for the others? Sister Jin'e married a middle-aged official as a remarried wife, fortunate that there were no sons from the previous marriage. Sister Ruichun married a wealthy local landowner. The most pitiful were the Shun sisters. Magistrate Qian cared only for his own greed and lust, never bothering about the fate of his illegitimate children. They were left entirely at the mercy of their mistress—one was given to the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner of Shandong as a concubine, the other married off to a rural rich man over fifty as a remarried wife, in exchange for a hefty bride price..."

Molan thought of those girls she had once known, so vibrant and delicate, yet in the blink of an eye, scattered like leaves in the wind. Her heart grew heavy. Minglan sighed softly, "Those who can socialize outside their chambers are still considered respectable. Who knows what becomes of the illegitimate daughters confined at home by their mistresses?... Eldest Sister married into a Count's household, and the young ladies from the capital you've been close to these past few days are all quite distinguished. But can we compare to them?"

The advantage of legitimate daughters over illegitimate ones isn't just about birth and upbringing. A legitimate daughter holds a position that allows for both advancement and defense—with potential to climb high and marry into nobility. But an illegitimate daughter is different: too high to reach, too low to settle. They live in the same circles as their legitimate sisters, meeting the same people and leading similar lives, yet when it comes to marriage—snap—the gap is vast. The sense of loss from such comparisons is terrifying.

Molan declared firmly, "We're different. Father is a capable official, and our brother is young and promising." She paused, then added quietly, "Don't talk about legitimate or illegitimate. In terms of talent, learning, character, and appearance, where do I fall short? Is it just because I wasn't born from the mistress's womb? Look at Changdong—even the servants in the mansion fawn over the favored and trample the disfavored. If I don't stay vigilant, I'll be crushed into the mud. Why should I spend my entire life subordinate to others?"

Minglan suddenly felt stifled. She rose to open the window, murmuring softly, "I hope you achieve what you wish for."—How does one distinguish ambition from restlessness? The higher you climb, the harder you fall. What if it doesn't work out? As sisters, she had advised all she could. If Molan remained obstinately deluded, it was no one else's fault. Minglan wasn't one to worship saints.