Chapter 16: A Needle, A Flower, A Life

Although a daughter’s marriage proposal was traditionally arranged by her mother’s assessment, the final decision always rested with her father. The very next day, the Abbot sent word summoning Master Yin to the mountain.

Master Yin felt uneasy. Yin Zhi had been escorted by Nanny Sun—Third Madam’s most trusted attendant, who often made decisions on the Madam’s behalf. Yet the Abbot had called him personally. Surely it must be serious?

Donglin Temple’s reputation drew throngs of worshippers and wealthy petitioners from beyond Huaixi. Despite the Yin family’s wealth, in the Abbot’s eyes they were only one of many affluent households. Master Yin approached him with trepidation. “Venerable Sir, how is my youngest daughter’s condition?”

A father was normally notified by the mother. Why summon him?

The Abbot twirled his prayer beads, then looked up slowly. “This matter does not lie with your daughter, but with her birth mother.”

Master Yin flinched. “But… we held proper rites for her when she died, and provided a generous coffin. We were not a harsh family.”

“Āmítuó Fó,” the Abbot intoned. “Her lingering attachment you must examine within your own heart.”

High monks never spoke plainly; their words drifted like mist for one to decipher.

Master Yin was led to conjure memories—small incidents once overlooked, now tinged with regret and guilt. When one soul bears a ghost’s presence, the more one ponders, the fuller the remorse.

He glanced at the Abbot, unable to ask which specific wrong had bound Aunt Yan’s spirit, and steadied himself. “The past cannot be undone. What should we do now? Please show me the way.”

The Abbot said, “I have calculated: it will take three years. Only when she herself lets go will her spirit find its rest.”

Master Yin protested, “Three years? Cannot you free her now?”

The Abbot glanced at him. Master Yin cleared his throat. “We live in fear and anxiety, so we hoped—”

“She is no evil spirit,” the Abbot interrupted. “She cannot release her own flesh and blood. Her attachment has woven into your daughter’s karmic fate. To tear it away forcibly would harm your daughter’s destiny.”

Master Yin froze. “Then what must we do?”

The Abbot paused over his beads, wrestling inwardly, but finally relented for Yin Zhi’s sake. “Allow them three years. In that time, let your daughter remain at home, practicing the sutras. Let her birth mother see her cherished by her family, secure in parental love.”

“After three years, the attachment will dissolve, and the crisis be lifted.”

“Āmítuó Fó—the child’s life must undergo this trial. Once endured, all will be well.”

When Master Yin returned home and relayed the Abbot’s decree, Third Madam was speechless. “What do you mean ‘not leave home’? How can she never marry?”

Master Yin gulped half a bowl of tea before answering. “I asked the Abbot about her recent engagement—we planned her wedding for next year. He said that if she leaves this household, Aunt Yan’s spirit might seize her, and she could become an evil presence. Even if she marries, that would damage both her own fate and ours, for Aunt Yan would be rooted to our home, unable to depart, perhaps causing calamity.”

“The Abbot’s counsel, then, is for her to remain here, chanting sutras for three years, and marry only after the period ends.”

Third Madam fretted, “But she’ll be how old in three years?”

Master Yin sighed. “What can we do? This is the Abbot’s judgment.”

Had this been a street-side sorceress, they might have doubted her motives. But this was the venerable Abbot of Donglin, her nominal master. Marriage defined a woman’s life—he would never mislead his disciple.

Third Madam thought: “Perhaps we could consult the temple shaman—”

Master Yin snapped, “If that were possible, the Abbot would have done it himself. Do you understand karma?”

“Āmítuó Fó,” Third Madam folded her hands. “I understand. I recite sutras daily. No one is more sincere.”

Master Yin said, “Speak to the Liu family. Tell them we wish to delay Fourth Miss’s marriage for three years, and ask if they agree.”

“And if they refuse?”

“Then we withdraw. We cancel the match.”

Thus, Yin Zhi’s engagement was formally broken off. The Liu brothers’ ages were close; delaying the second son’s marriage would imperil the third son’s plans, so they were displeased. Fortunately, only the hairpins had been exchanged—no formal betrothal papers. They returned the pearl pin, accepted a modest gift of apology from Third Madam, and considered the match simply unsuccessful.

By the time Yin Zhi returned from the monastery, her engagement had been fully annulled.

The second and third sisters came to commiserate. “Such a fine match—why call it off?”

Yin Zhi dabbed her eyes. “I don’t know. Ask Father and Mother.”

After seeing them off, Yin Zhi settled back into her little courtyard to “recuperate.” Third Madam, still uneasy, avoided her and even excused her from morning and evening duties.

Yet gossip ran through the household. The Matriarch summoned Third Madam and reproached her. Third Madam could not mention Aunt Yan’s spirit and so offered a different tale: “Fourth Miss is delicate. The Abbot calculated her life must face this trial for three years. To marry too soon would harm both households—and worst of all, threaten the Matriarch’s health.”

All the elder believed more fervently in omens than in anything else. She asked for details on how to break the curse. Third Madam improvised: “She must not leave home, and must copy sutras each day. After three peaceful years, the trial will pass.”

She added how she sympathized with the child, exempting her from morning and evening services.

The Matriarch, ever more superstitious, clapped her hands. “Very well. You needn’t trouble yourself here. Let her recite at home—no wandering.”

At seventeen, Yin Zhi no longer attended lessons anyway. She was free to lock herself in her courtyard—copying sutras, tending flowers, weaving cords, blending incense, even making her own powders. After several years in this life, she’d learned many new skills.

Her days were filled with abundance, peace, and dignity.

That year the second sister married; the next year the third. Younger cousins of her cohort all wed in turn. Only a few years remained before Yin Zhi’s own three-year period ended.

Because of the talk of a three-year trial, Fifth Sister was forbidden to visit her by her own concubine mother. Yin Zhi’s social life dwindled to nothing; she remained quietly at home.

Then, in the spring of the third year, the Yin household buzzed with excitement. A congratulatory dispatch arrived: their kin—the eleven-year-old xiucai Shen Ti—had taken first place in the provincial exam and ranked third in the metropolitan exam! First was the zhuangyuan, second the bangyan, and Shen Ti was the tanhua—the third! What a brilliant honor!

Yin Zhi quietly counted on her fingers and smiled: one zhuangyuan, one bangyan, one tanhua in the family. Wonderful, even if only by relation. But it mattered little to her. She returned to pruning her spring blooms—so many branches to shape, soon to burst into buds.

Yet this peaceful chapter of her life was drawing to a close. She was now seventeen; at eighteen next year, both mind and body would be ready for marriage and safer childbirth. Master Yin and Third Madam could no longer keep her at home indefinitely. Betrothal this year meant wedding next—perfectly aligning with the Abbot’s three-year decree.

This fate could not be altered; Yin Zhi had calmly accepted it.

Her own marriage was for Master Yin and Third Madam to arrange. But now Yin Zhi had another match to consider: that of her maid, Yunjian.

Servants, unlike noble daughters, were typically married two years later to extend their service. Yunjian, born the same year as Yin Zhi, should be married now.

After Qiaoque and the others married and her own family duties kept her busy, no one had cared for Yunjian’s prospects. Yin Zhi quietly gathered funds and gifts—boxes of delicacies in four colors, two fine cloth banners, and a pair of silver bracelets—and personally presented them to Nanny Sun, Third Madam’s trusted attendant who handled all the Third Branch’s domestic marriages.

Nanny Sun was astonished at Fourth Miss’s initiative. It was only a formality for her, but a lifetime matter for Yunjian. Within days, she arranged a suitable match: a young stable hand from the estate gate—a well-tipped, respectable fellow whose father drove the carriage for the Second Master. It was a good catch for someone with no kin of her own, thanks to her mistress’s willingness to spend and humbly request favors.

Nanny Sun told Third Madam, “I’m not after Miss’s gifts. I’ve served the Madam long enough to know true sincerity when I see it. Fourth Miss cares for her servants just as you once cared for me.”

Third Madam accepted the praise, saying, “This girl was raised by me. Even if she’s slow to learn, she should at least learn something from me.”

Nanny Sun added, “But Fourth Miss is seventeen now. Her marriage too must be arranged by you.”

Third Madam nodded. Yin Zhi’s betrothal must occur this year, so that when her three-year period ended next year—just as Fifth Sister came of age—both daughters could be promised and avoid any scandal of one sister’s match delaying the other’s. Third Madam would not want to be faulted for favoritism.

“Put that aside for now,” Third Madam said. “First, have the courtyard for her maid prepared. Watch the servants—no slackers. If they mistreat her, they’ll answer to me.”

Nanny Sun swore on her chest, “I’ll see to it.”

News of Shen Ti’s tanhua honor illuminated the Yin family’s prestige.

Yet no one expected another dispatch: Madam Shen, with her freshly minted tanhua son, would embark on a homecoming visit to her natal family.

The sudden announcement took the Yin household by surprise. Normally such trips were arranged months in advance; this time, a courier arrived barely ten days before their arrival.

Nonetheless, the probe rose in their gates brought great prestige. Third Madam bustled about, preparing a grand reception for her nephew by marriage.

The entire household brimmed with joy, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the tanhua young master.