China by Edward Rutherfurd (latest novels to read TXT) 📗

and then used to stamp documents or, as time went by, paintings and works of calligraphy. The stamps of collectors’ seals were considered validation of a work of art and even became considered part of its value as time passed. Sometimes the upper part of the sealstone, which the user held when he applied the stamp, might be a simple rectangular block, or any shape. But in recent centuries especially, the upper part was often carved and polished into a beautiful little sculpture that might rest in the palm of one’s hand—so that the seal became a double work of art.

What suited Guanji especially was that the art of making sealstones had reached its apogee under the Ming dynasty and continued through the Manchu as well, so that by embracing this art form he, a Manchu, was associating himself both with his own ancestry and also with the Han culture of which he wished to be a part.

It hadn’t taken him long, with the help of dealers, to build up quite an impressive collection; and by applying his mind, he had soon become expert at explaining the origin of each seal, the historical documents and works of art to which it might have been applied, and thereby seemed far more cultured than he really was. The literati of the West Lake were always glad to visit his house, especially when there was another rare old seal from antiquity to be inspected.

If this social strategy had worked well, Guanji had augmented the effect by his skill in tactics. For invitations were not so easy to come by. A visitor to the lake who was lucky enough to be introduced to the general needn’t expect to receive one. Only a favored few were so honored. If a new arrival asked to see the collection, the general would not seem to hear him, and he might have to wait a year or two, and become the general’s friend, before an invitation was proffered. Some people were never asked. So the community around the lake was already divided into two classes: those who had seen the seal collection and those who had not.

“I’m sure,” said Mr. Yao, “that my wife and her mother would be most interested to see the collection, though alas, since she is not here for long, my wife’s mother may not have the chance.”

Guanji gazed at him. Nice try, he thought. Pushy, but a nice try. “I’m afraid they’d find my collection of musty old sealstones terribly boring,” he countered.

“I have heard it’s most intriguing,” said Bright Moon. “My mother and I would love to see them.”

Had the merchant put her up to it? Guanji wondered. Probably. This merchant was a wily adversary. He’s tempting me with the women to make sure he gets to see the collection quicker than anyone else has. Very well, he’d concede the point. “Why don’t all three of you come, if you really think it wouldn’t bore you,” he suggested. “Tomorrow is not good for me, but would you be free the day after?”

“Most certainly we should,” said Mr. Yao at once.

—

It was the following afternoon that Mei-Ling and her daughter had a little talk. They were standing in the walled garden. The sky was grey, and the floor of the empty enclosure was a colorless expanse of bare stalks and stripped weeds. The walls looked raw, their unwanted creepers torn away. Was there a chill in the air? Mei-Ling couldn’t tell. It seemed to her that it was neither warm nor cold nor anything. The moon gate stared at them emptily as Mei-Ling spoke: “You were making eyes at the general yesterday. You think nobody noticed, but I saw.”

“I think it’s you he’s interested in, Mother,” Bright Moon replied.

“I’ve seen his sort before.”

“So have I. They usually go after widows. Wives are too much trouble.”

“You must not even think of being unfaithful.”

“Who says I have?”

“You were taken with him.”

“He’s unusual. He knows how to treat a woman.”

“He knows how to seduce a woman. All that talk about being a warrior with a sensitive soul. How could you fall for such stuff?”

“It makes a change from my husband. You brought me up to know a little about the world of cultivated people. You know you did. So you can hardly blame me if I’m attracted to an educated man.”

“A little culture is expected if you want to make a good marriage.”

“Like binding one’s feet. You never suffered that. But you forced me to. I still wish I’d kept my feet the way nature made them and married a peasant from the village.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother cried. “You’ve never known…”

“Never known what?”

“What it’s like to be powerless, short of money, even short of food. There is no comfort for the soul, no dignity in that, I promise you. Do you think I was happy that my husband had to go all the way to America so he could send us the money we needed? And we were better off than most people in the village.”

“When a bride is carried in the red-and-gold litter from her parents’ house to the wedding, she has to pretend to weep all the way to show how sorry she is to leave her home. But I wept real tears.”

“You have children, a family, a beautiful home.” Mei-Ling made a gesture towards the villa. “Your husband’s rich. He’s a good man. Hardly one bride in a thousand gets all that. Surely he doesn’t mistreat you.”

“No, he doesn’t mistreat me.” Bright Moon made a little gesture of irritation.

“Then do your duty.” Her mother paused. “Do you understand what will happen to you if you are unfaithful?”

“Perhaps we can agree to part. The law allows it.”

“Only if your husband wishes. He can throw you out and keep the children. Think of them. And if he prosecutes you, the law is very clear. You’ll get ninety strokes of the cane.”

“The wife and her lover are both caned.”

“Wrong. You