Chapter Eighty-fourThose without conscience persist in deeds without conscience;The maid Faithful at last fulfils her vow of faithfulness.

After Grandmother Jia's funeral procession, her coffin was left at the Temple of the Iron Threshold, to wait until the hundred days were over before being escorted back to the ancestral home. The forty-nine days of mourning had not yet run their course. The white hangings before Rong-xi Hall were still in place, though the sacrificial vessels throughout the house were already being put away one by one. Only in Grandmother Jia's principal rooms did the mourning curtains still hang; the white felt laid inside and outside the threshold had been trodden a greyish yellow. The white lanterns under the eaves had gone into store, the paste marks on their bamboo frames still fresh. It was nearing the eleventh month, and beneath the covered walks of every household there was one fewer charcoal brazier than in former years. The four characters sent out from the Palace by Her Highness, “Be guarded in speech and cautious in conduct,” had reached the mansion only a few days before. Jia Zheng had ordered them written out in a proper hand and placed on the desk in his outer study. High and low, everyone in the mansion was busy without respite: counting the possessions left behind, checking the household rolls, fixing the monthly allowances anew.

Since Grandmother Jia's death, Faithful had continued to live in the side room. Rising early that morning, she had changed the bowl of fresh water before the old couch and wiped clean, one by one, the prayer beads, spectacles and hand-warmer. She had never had many clothes, nor did she keep gold or silver in her chest; there was only an old sewing-box beside her pillow. There were only two or three tables and stools in the room, polished till they reflected a person's likeness. That afternoon she was folding some of Grandmother Jia's old silk clothes when one of Lady Xing's dowry servants lifted the curtain and came in, her face all smiles. “Still busy with these things, miss? When Her Old Ladyship was here, no one was held in higher regard than you. And now that she's gone, the Elder Master and Her Ladyship haven't forgotten your years of service. They wouldn't see you poorly treated.”

Faithful merely smoothed a corner of the garment. “If you have something to say, Mother, say it.”

The old woman sat down on the footstool, shook out the blue silk handkerchief she was holding, and smiled. “You mustn't blame me for coming to pester you time and again, miss. The Elder Master originally asked for a definite answer in three days. It's dragged on all this time, and Her Ladyship hardly knows what to tell him. You're a clever girl; I needn't spell it out. You're well past twenty now. Do you mean to spend your whole life watching over these empty rooms? An ordinary family outside would naturally be beneath you. The Elder Master knows all about you, and that's why he's determined to raise you up and make you his concubine. Of course, nothing can be arranged during the mourning, but all he wants for now is your word. You can move over once the three years are up. Just nod your head, and you'll never need to worry about clothes or jewellery again. Her Ladyship says she'll treat you as a sister, truly and sincerely.”

Faithful put the folded clothes into the chest and shut the lid. “How many days is it since Her Old Ladyship died?”

The old woman clapped her hands and laughed. “It's precisely because she's gone that you should settle where you're to go. The dead can't come back to life; the living must carry on. Besides, that oath you swore before was made in front of Her Old Ladyship. Now she's gone, those words have blown away with her. Who would really hold someone all their life to something said in anger?”

Faithful fastened the lock on Grandmother Jia's old chest. For a long while she said nothing. At last she said, “I understand. You may go back, Mother.”

Seeing that Faithful had not flown into a temper, the old woman was all the more convinced that she had found an opening. She edged closer still, with a coaxing smile. “If you find it awkward to say it yourself, Her Ladyship will come herself later on. There'll be rewards for your brother and his wife too. You need only nod your head; everything else will be taken care of.” Faithful made no further answer, but took a square of old cotton cloth and slowly wiped the thin dust from the chest lid. Rebuffed, the old woman chattered on for another sentence or two, then rose with a cold laugh. “Well, I've delivered the message. Don't keep people waiting till they lose patience, miss.” With that she lifted the curtain and went out.

Faithful had held the keys these past few years and had seen more of the old vouchers and accounts in the storeroom than most. In the year when Stony's twenty old fans had been brought into the mansion, the Second Master had received a thorough beating over the affair; Patience had told her about it in private. There had also been occasions when men from the provinces came through a side gate at night, and sealed packets of silver were carried into the Elder Master's study. The next morning there would be another card on his desk, to be sent out tucked inside an accordion-folded scripture. These were things the servants whispered about behind their masters' backs, and she had heard them more than once. When Grandmother Jia happened to ask about affairs outside, Faithful would tell her only what the old lady liked to hear. Now that Her Old Ladyship was gone, these things too remained shut up inside her.

That evening Lady Wang sent Xi-feng, with Sunshine, to take an inventory of the possessions in Grandmother Jia's rooms. Xi-feng's bleeding had not stopped. Supported by Patience, she sat down in the outer room. Sunshine read from the list: “One pair of solid-gold hairpins with longevity characters; one white-jade Buddha's-hand citron; two strings of opaque amber prayer beads.” Listening, Xi-feng had a box opened and inspected its seal herself. Further down the list Sunshine paused. “There's also a chest of gold and silver vessels here. Beside it the list has a note: ‘pawned’.” Xi-feng glanced towards the inner room. “Leave that entry for now. Read on.” They had just reached a chest of Grandmother Jia's old silk clothes when a jumble of footsteps sounded outside the courtyard gate, and Lady Xing came in with her dowry servant and two married women servants.

At the sight of Lady Xing, Xi-feng merely raised herself a little from her seat. “What brings you here at this hour, Mother?”

Lady Xing smiled. “I've come to ask Faithful something. Carry on with the things in Her Old Ladyship's rooms.” She immediately sent someone to call Faithful.

Faithful came out of the inner room, still in her old plain-white hemp jacket, with a single silver pin in her hair. Lady Xing's face softened a little at the sight of her. “Faithful,” she said with a smile, “no one could be more dependable than you. We all know how you've served Her Old Ladyship these many years. Now the Elder Master has no one in his rooms who understands him and takes proper care of him. He likes your steadiness and wants to make you a concubine. It's an honour that many people would beg for in vain. You ought to know what's good for you.”

Faithful stood for a while with her hands at her sides before answering. “Your Ladyship, I truly dare not accept such an honour. All the time I served Her Old Ladyship, I never hoped for anything else. From now on, all I ask is a quiet place where I can live as I ought, keeping to myself. As for this, I have no wish for it whatsoever. Please tell the Elder Master so.”

Lady Xing gave a cold laugh. “Now you're being foolish. A girl on her own, with Her Old Ladyship gone—who will you have to depend on? It's a great piece of good fortune for you that the Elder Master is willing to cherish you. Yet here you are, raising one objection after another. You'll only chill his heart.”

“I am grateful for all Your Ladyship's kindness,” said Faithful. “But Her Old Ladyship has only just died. The forty-nine days aren't over yet, and the whole household is in mourning. How can such a thing be mentioned at a time like this? If Your Ladyship will bear with me, wait until the mourning is over, and then allow me to give you an answer.”

Seeing her put off the question with words again and again, Lady Xing's face darkened. She gave a cold laugh. “I'm not going round in circles with you. This is the Elder Master's decision, and it's already made. There's no room for discussion. I must have a definite answer today. If you agree, put it in writing first, and move over when the mourning is finished. If you refuse, ask yourself whether there will still be a place for you to stand in this household.”

Xi-feng heard this in the outer room. Her face did not change, but she was ill at ease; her fingers simply pressed down the corner of the inventory sheet.

At these words Faithful's face suddenly flushed red, from the base of her neck to behind her ears. She stood for a moment with her head lowered, then abruptly looked up at Lady Xing. “Allow me to fetch something, Your Ladyship.” Supposing that she meant to find some token of consent, Lady Xing did not stop her. Faithful turned and went into the side room, opened the sewing-box beside her pillow, and, out of sight of the others, took something out and slipped it into her sleeve. Returning to the room, she stared straight at Lady Xing and the roomful of old women, and began to curse them:

“Do you think that, the moment Her Old Ladyship breathed her last, I, Faithful, became a lump of dead meat on your chopping-board, for you low-bred scum to weigh and measure as you please? Go back and tell that old bastard of yours with one foot in the grave—and you too, you damned whore, good for nothing but pimping for an old man! What sort of masters do you call yourselves? For the sake of a few rotten old fans, you ruined Stony, stripped him of everything, and cost him his life as well! Everyone in this mansion knows it. You're the only ones who pretend nothing happened! Which of those things in your rooms wasn't bought with human blood? Aren't you afraid, when you go to sleep at night, that vengeful ghosts will come for your worthless lives? Her Old Ladyship's mourning is still hanging over the door, and you come here talking of this! Since when does a man take a concubine the minute his mother dies—and make her sign a paper to wait for him? Is there such a rule anywhere under heaven? I said it once before, and I'll say it again: I will not marry, whatever happens. I said it when Her Old Ladyship was alive, and I say it now that she's gone. That old brute sent word through my brother before that even if I went up to heaven, I couldn't get out of his clutches; only if I died, or never married a man as long as I lived, would he admit defeat. You think now Her Old Ladyship's gone I must meekly go and become that black-hearted bastard's concubine? Piss on the ground and take a look at yourselves!”

Everyone in the room was stunned. Lady Xing turned red, then white. She wanted to speak, but the torrent of abuse left her unable to get a word out. Xi-feng, sitting in the outer room, heard every word distinctly. With a hand on the edge of the table, she struggled to her feet. Faithful did not stop, but went on cursing:

“You're his lawful wife yourself, yet instead of urging him to mend his ways, you come to force us maids on his behalf! When the Master harms people outside, you pretend you haven't heard of it; but let me say no, and suddenly I'm the one who doesn't know the rules. Are your rules only there to crush people with no one to stand up for them?”

As she spoke, she loosened her hair with her left hand and drew a pair of scissors from her sleeve with her right, their metal dark from long sharpening. They were the very scissors she had used when she swore her oath before Grandmother Jia; a length of old, yellowed thread was still wound round the handle. Seeing them, the others thought she meant to cut off her hair again. Several of the old women put out their hands, crying, “You mustn't, miss!” but not one dared come forward. Faithful's voice, however, gradually sank. Word by word, she spoke quite clearly:

“I, Faithful, came clean into this world, and today I'll leave it clean! You beasts in human skins can go on rampaging through this world as you please! Your Old Ladyship, I'm coming to keep you company!”

Before the last words had died away, her wrist suddenly turned, and she thrust the scissors into her throat. Blood spurted out, splashing one of Grandmother Jia's old lotus-mauve silk shirts. It still lay over the edge of the kang, where Faithful had just folded it. Now a patch of dark red spread across its front.

At first several of the old women inside tried to seize the scissors and staunch the wound, but in the end they were too frightened to know what to do. Lady Xing retreated towards the door, calling over and over for a doctor to be fetched at once. Outside, Patience heard the commotion within and went white with fright. She hurried in and tried to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. Xi-feng stood in the doorway; the inventory fell from her hand to the floor. By the time the doctor came, Faithful was already dead. When Jia She heard the report in his own courtyard, he dashed the teacup he was holding to the ground. “Ungrateful, good-for-nothing wretch!” he said bitterly. “She'd throw away her life just to humiliate me!” Shards of porcelain flew across the floor, and tea spilled over the felt. Carmine, beside him, dared not utter a word, but quickly crouched down and gathered the pieces one by one into her handkerchief. After cursing for a while, Jia She refused to speak of it again. He only gave orders: “No gossip is to get outside. If anyone asks, say Faithful was always subject to sudden attacks, and excessive grief brought on one that proved fatal.” Lady Xing, her face livid, had the body hastily laid out for burial, then hurried away with her troop of old women.

Several maids who had once shared her room came to change her clothes, taking the lotus-mauve figured-silk jacket out of the chest. Her right hand still gripped a corner of the silk shirt on the edge of the kang, and it took them a long time to prise her fingers open. No one dared cry aloud; their sobs stayed in their throats. Although orders had been given that Faithful's death must not be spoken of, it could not be hidden. Within a couple of days everyone in the mansion secretly knew. Only no one dared mention it openly; even in private, people merely shook their heads and sighed. A few of Faithful's curses also reached Bao-yu's ears. After hearing them, he was dazed for a long time, then said to himself, “How much could a few fans be worth?” Musk looked up at him and could not help sighing too.

Only when everything inside had been attended to and the body carried out did Xi-feng turn her face away. Patience supported her slowly back to her rooms. Xi-feng kept her head lowered all the way. Not until they had entered the courtyard gate did she speak. “When Gem died in the Ning mansion, they at least laid her out in the Ascension Pavilion, with the rites due to a granddaughter.” Patience did not dare reply.

Within a few days of Faithful's death, the things in Grandmother Jia's principal rooms were gradually entered in the register: what could go into store went into store, and what could be allotted to the separate households was allotted. Only a few old clothes remained, which no one would touch. Each time a servant brought something out, Sunshine made a mark in the register. When one page was full, Sunshine turned it and went on writing.

That day Lady Wang summoned Parrot. “Everything in Her Old Ladyship's rooms has been counted now. You needn't go on watching over those empty rooms.” She told Silver to bring a small box and hand it to her. “There are a few taels of silver and two pieces of jewellery in here. Your bond is there too. Take them and go out and find a respectable family to live with.”

Parrot hastily knelt, received the box in both hands, and knocked her head to the ground without saying a word. “Have you somewhere to go?” Lady Wang asked. Parrot merely bowed her head and nodded once. “I'll tell the gatekeepers to let you out tomorrow,” said Lady Wang.

Early next morning the sky was still overcast, and a thin frost had formed beneath the eaves. Wearing a half-worn padded jacket of blue cotton, with a bundle on her arm and the box clasped to her chest, Parrot went out through the western side gate. The page at the gate examined her bond, then opened the gate and let her out. The side gate closed behind her at once.

Let us leave the Rong mansion for the moment. Lately, creditors had been calling at the Xues' three times a day. Several demands for payment lay weighed down on the gatehouse desk, their edges rubbed soft. At the sound of footsteps, the gatekeepers would pull the gate almost shut, leaving only a crack. The callers, some with account-books in their sleeves, others holding old vouchers, would wait below the steps for a while, then have to go their separate ways. That day Xue Pan came home dispirited after losing money at gambling. He had barely entered when he heard Jin-gui and Moonbeam banging and smashing things at the back, quarrelling incessantly over a little money for cosmetics. The noise gave him a headache, and he had no choice but to take refuge in Aunt Xue's rooms. The charcoal in the brazier there was burning feebly. Aunt Xue and Bao-chai were sewing by lamplight. Bao-chai bent over her work, her needle moving through a plain white mourning gown, the close stitches laid row upon row.

Xue Pan sat down heavily, picked up the cold tea on the table and gulped down a mouthful. Seeing Bao-chai go on with her stitching, he said crossly, “So you still have the leisure to sit doing that, sister. Word’s all over the place now: the one Bao-yu's going to marry is that sickly Lin girl. And Bao-yu himself is no use either. All these years thinking about him, and what has it got you? You've worn that gold locket for nothing too. Give up the idea before it's too late. You've long since been out of the running.”

The needle in Bao-chai's hand stopped. Her head remained lowered, the point suspended over the gown, no more than a thread's breadth from the cloth. After a long while she slowly turned her head. “What nonsense are you talking?”

Hearing him, Aunt Xue slapped the kang in anger. “How much of that damned yellow swill have you poured down your throat, to come home barking this nonsense? Is your sister's business something for you to wag your tongue about? Get out of here!” Emboldened by the drink, Xue Pan muttered a couple more remarks before slinking out.

Bao-chai remained seated. She drew the needle out, folded the mourning gown once, and put it to one side. “There's a little grease mark on this piece of cloth. We had better use another.” Then she stood, took leave of Aunt Xue and went back to her room.

A few days later, an old business associate who had once travelled south with Xue Pan came to see him carrying a small packet of incense cakes. “Down south, incense prices are rising three times a day. There's a merchant who needs silver urgently and is willing to let his stock go cheap. Buy it in bulk now, and you'll make several times your money when you sell it on.” Xue Pan picked up a cake, pinched it with his fingernail and held it beneath his nose and sniffed it. His brows lifted and his eyes beamed with delight. Slapping the incense cake onto the table, he cried, “That's the one! Once I make my fortune on this deal, I won't have to listen to anyone's nagging!” There and then he decided to undertake the trade in aromatics on his own. “You're taking even the money we need to live on?” Aunt Xue asked. Xue Pan laughed. “Once this deal goes through, what will there be to worry about living on?” Aunt Xue and Bao-chai tried time and again to stop him. Zhang De-hui from the pawnshop also came to advise him. “Master, if incense prices can rise three times a day, they can fall three times a day too. When I went south with you before, nine lots out of ten that people were in such a hurry to sell were traps. This is the first time you've handled a shipment so large. You would do better to begin with a little less.” But Xue Pan's mind was made up. He would listen to none of them. He gathered together all the silver the family had on hand, had the counting-house draw up a contract, and staked it all.

To return to Jia Lian: ever since the day he had sounded Xi-feng out, he had been making secret inquiries into the old affair of Er-jie. First he sent Joker to find out what had become of Doctor Hu. Joker visited several of the old medicine shops, then came back to report. “I've asked everywhere. Doctor Hu got into trouble several years ago, packed his things and fled the capital with his family. Some say he went back south; others say he died of illness in the provinces. There's no certain word.” The next day Jia Lian met Shan-jie in the passage hall. He had barely called “Stop!” when, as though she had not heard, she turned and slipped into Lady Xing's courtyard. Jia Lian followed her to the gate, but the old woman on watch would only say, “Shan-jie isn't here.” He could neither find the people nor get any answers. In secret he wrote down Hu Jun-rong, Shan-jie, and the names of several married women servants attending Autumn, on a thin sheet of paper, and folded it together with the fragment of Doctor Hu's prescription.

About this time, Xiang-yun came to the Jia mansion to take her leave before her marriage. She was betrothed to Wei Ruo-lan, the young gentleman of the Wei family, and the date had already been chosen. Because of Grandmother Jia's recent death, the Shis had discussed postponing it; but the auspicious day had long since been settled by the Wei family, and after several exchanges they had ultimately failed to change it. As she was still in mourning, Xiang-yun wore only a blue satin short jacket that was no longer quite new, with no brightly coloured ornaments in her hair. She had simply put it up in a bun and secured it with a plain silver pin. Dai-yu, Bao-chai, Bao-qin and Xiu-yan all gathered at the Naiad's House to see her off. A thin layer of bamboo leaves lay before the steps. No sooner had they been swept aside than a gust brought them together again beneath the curtain. No incense was burning in the room. There was only a pot of tea warming on a little red-clay stove, around which the girls sat talking for half the day. The tea cooled and was replenished, then cooled once more.

Xiang-yun took Dai-yu's hand and smiled. “Cousin Lin, once I've gone, who knows when we shall see each other again? Take good care of yourself, and don't let yourself go short.” She felt the hand again. “Why is it so cold again? Are you still taking your medicine?” Dai-yu smiled. “Every day. Not one bowl less, as far as I can see.” After a long pause she smiled at Xiang-yun. “You're a straightforward person. When you get there, try not to take things too much to heart. You're stronger than I am.” As she spoke, her eyes reddened for a moment, but she held back her tears. “Let us both keep well.”

Bao-qin smiled beside them. “Cousin Yun came to say goodbye today, but she begins by asking about medicine. If you go on asking, Nightingale will be bringing the prescription for you to put your mark on.” They all laughed a little, then fell quiet again. Xiu-yan brought out a pair of shoes she had made herself and handed them to Xiang-yun. “Wear these on the journey. The stitching is a little rough, but they're strong.” Xiang-yun took them and held them against her feet there and then, smiling. “Just right. When I've worn them out, I'll come back and ask for more.” Bao-chai gave her a plain brocade sewing-pouch as well. “When you go to their house, there's no need to be the first to undertake everything. And when you work at night, don't go on till the third watch again. Spirited as you are, you must keep some strength for yourself.” Xiang-yun looked sidelong at Bao-chai and smiled. “I'll remember that, Cousin Bao.”

As they were talking, Bao-yu came in, dressed entirely in mourning, and stopped beside the curtain. Xiang-yun called at once, “Why don't you come in, Second Cousin?” “You go on talking,” said Bao-yu. “I've come to see you off.” He entered the room and made a formal bow, his hands clasped before him. Xiang-yun was about to laugh at him, but seeing that he kept his head bowed, she quickly put away her smile and returned his bow. “Take care of yourself, Second Cousin.” Bao-yu only said, “You too.”

Xi-feng's bleeding had returned, and she could not get out of bed. She merely sent Patience with a pair of old gold bracelets for Xiang-yun's marriage chest, together with an apology: she was feeling worse, could not bear a bustle, and was unable to come out. Xiang-yun quickly accepted the bracelets. “Tell your mistress to concentrate on getting well. Who would stand on ceremony about that?”

They talked until the sun was low in the west. Afraid that the people sent from the Shi house would be waiting, Xiang-yun finally rose and took her leave. Dai-yu wanted to see her out, but began coughing as soon as she stood up. Xiang-yun quickly pressed her back into her seat. “Don't see me out. When you're well, I'll come back and plague you. We'll go to the Concave Pavilion again and make linked verses.” “Only remember you've said it,” said Dai-yu. Xiang-yun promised. She went through the curtain, but still could not bear to leave. Looking back, she saw Bao-chai moving the medicine cup closer to Dai-yu; Bao-qin and Xiu-yan stood beneath the window, and Bao-yu was once again beside the curtain. She let the curtain fall.

On the wedding day itself, the Jia family were still in mourning and took no part in auspicious celebrations. Not one of them went to the feast; they merely sent a steward with a modest gift. Later word came from the Shis that the Wei family's bridal carriage, too, had not been lavishly hung with red, but had only a strip of dark-red silk tied to its shaft. Kingfisher and Jade went with the trousseau sedan.

Around the same time, the marriage of Xing Xiu-yan and Xue Ke also made some headway. Grandmother Jia had originally settled the match, but with one thing and another, the cards had never been formally exchanged. Only now were the cards bearing their birth dates exchanged and confirmed; they still did not venture to fix the wedding day. Both families had the Rong mansion's bereavement in mind. There was no display: they merely invited the matchmaker to a meal. At table Aunt Xue said, “It was Her Old Ladyship who arranged this match. I remember her laughing that day and saying, ‘There, I've settled another matter. I wonder how much I'll get in matchmaker's fees.’” Her eyes reddened, and she said no more.

Xue Ke's father, while he lived, had also been an Imperial Merchant, supplying goods to the court. The property he left behind amounted to no more than a few rooms and a courtyard. Keeping this small inheritance together, Xue Ke did a little trading with limited capital; his earnings often failed to cover daily expenses. Xiu-yan still lived in the Garden, and was thinly dressed even now that the weather had turned cold. Bao-chai often sent Oriole with clothes and supplies of rice, without letting anyone else know. She always chose the quiet time after the lamps were lit. The rice sack was covered with a bundle-cloth, and if Oriole met anyone she merely said she was delivering sewing. She put the things down and came straight back.

One day Xue Ke came to Aunt Xue's rooms to report on some business. Bao-chai asked him how his trading had been lately. He moved his teacup a little before answering. “I only carry aromatics and sundry goods for other people, and earn a little for the transport.” He paused. “I've let half the rooms Father left. I manage well enough.” Bao-chai said, “When Uncle was supplying goods to the court, he never took an extra copper all his life. He used to say that anyone serving the throne ought to keep clean hands. That was rare indeed. But you're still young. Apart from your trading, you ought to choose a few proper books to read. If later you could find an opening in official life, it would be better than clinging to this little livelihood.” Xue Ke simply listened. After thinking a while, he said, “You're right, Cousin. I do have one here, but it isn't complete.” He took a book from his sleeve and laid it on the table. Bao-chai saw that it was an incomplete copy of the Spring and Autumn Annals, and told Oriole to find him a complete one. Xue Ke sat a little longer before going home. In the courtyard a brazier of incense was still burning as a trial: a sample from the deal Xue Pan had newly taken on. The rest had been divided into two or three small packets, marked with weights and prices, the ink still fresh. Close to the brazier it smelled sweet; a little farther away, a trace of burning came through.

Meanwhile, in accordance with Her Old Ladyship's dying instructions, Jia Zheng told Lady Wang to see to Bao-yu's marriage. “While we're in mourning, I'm afraid people outside will talk,” she said. “There may be something improper in it according to the rites,” Jia Zheng replied. “But Her Old Ladyship said before everyone as she lay dying that the mourning rules must not be allowed to delay it. Since it was an elder's last command, we can only make an exception. Exchange the birth-date cards first, and choose a day within these hundred days. I'll answer for whatever outsiders may say.” Lady Wang assented. She had Zhou Rui's wife make a fresh, fair copy of Bao-yu's birth particulars and ordered one of the principal rooms put in readiness. Then she asked, “And on the girl's side?” “I have my own arrangements for the girl,” said Jia Zheng, and said no more.

In the end, that old sewing-box too was entered in the register. The scissors inside it had been washed clean and put back where they had been; no one would take them. The storeroom door was locked, and the key handed to Lady Wang. As for whose family would finally be matched with that birth-date card, listen to the next chapter for the explanation.