“Brother Yanshan… here is my dowry list. Pray look it over,” Song Qingqing said shyly.
A dark foreboding seized him. He unrolled the long scroll and his eyes widened, his head swam.
He had begun repaying his debt these past two months. Born and raised in plenty, Gu Yanshan had never known the value of silver. He spent freely: wine with friends one day, hunting the next, feasts ordered from the capital’s finest restaurants whenever the manor food displeased him.
His monthly allowance had been fifty taels. Now Zhou Du deducted thirty leaving him to scrape by on twenty. In truth, fifty taels had never sufficed his former habits either. But whenever he wanted coin, he had merely spoken and the stewards dared not refuse him. Now Zhou Du held the household in an iron grip. Not a copper moved without her knowledge. Servants trembled and obeyed. He could no longer draw silver with a single word.
Life had grown remarkably difficult. Now he counted the days until his stipend arrived grateful even for the few taels left to him after Zhou Du took her share.
He had protested. “You are heartless! A pittance! You treat me like a beggar!”
Zhou Du worked her abacus without glancing up. “A beggar needs but a few copper coins. Does the Heir complain of having too much?”
“Zhou Du do not play innocent! I say it is not enough!”
“Not enough?” she said coolly. “You eat and lodge within this house at no cost. Twenty‑five taels spending money each month. Tell me how is it insufficient?”
“Be reasonable. Your official stipend is but twenty taels total. You contribute nothing to household expenses and yet you draw silver besides. What married man lives so comfortably?”
Gu Yanshan fell silent. She had out‑reasoned him again.
“But…”
“No buts,” she cut him off. “If you have reasonable need for funds speak, and I shall release them.”
Gu Yanshan thought long and hard. Feasting with friends? Five taels would buy a splendid banquet. Any more and she would suspect wine and women. Gifts and courtesies? All such matters fell to Zhou Du as Mistress of the House.
He could think of nothing. Where did his silver vanish? What did he buy? Why was it never enough?
Song Qingqing saw his pale face. “Brother Yanshan? What troubles you?”
Gu Yanshan roused himself. “Qingqing… is this not overly generous? I know your parents and five brothers adore you but will your sisters‑in‑Law not object? We must not sow discord within your family.”
Song Qingqing shook her head. “You speak foolishly, Brother Yanshan. My sisters‑in‑Law love me dearly. They helped prepare every item on this list.”
Gu Yanshan did some quick reckoning. Her dowry approached twenty thousand taels.
He repaid Zhou Du forty‑five taels each month. Five hundred and forty taels a year. If he earned no rewards… twenty thousand taels would take… thirty‑seven years.
He was twenty‑one. He would be fifty‑eight before the debt was cleared.
…
Would he live so long? And if he died before paying would Zhou Du still come for him in the afterlife?
A chill shudder ran through him. Horrifying.
Unacquainted with the concept of a “loan,” he nonetheless trembled at the sheer weight of it.
“Qingqing,” he said carefully, “I wonder… might this be too conspicuous? You enter as a concubine and your family are merchants. Yet your dowry rivals that of Principal Wives born to high officials. It draws too many eyes. It is unsafe for you and for the Song family.”
Song Qingqing stared at him as though he were a stranger. “Brother Yanshan… how can you speak so? Did you not say that though I bear the rank of concubine, I am the only wife in your heart?”
“How can you shame me so?”
Gu Yanshan realized his blunder and bowed in haste. “Not shame you never! I speak only for your sake and your family’s. Great wealth draws envy. Surely you know that?”
Song Qingqing’s eyes glistened. “And did you not promise to protect me and mine?”
“Brother Yanshan… you have changed.”
They had seen little of one another amid preparations. Gu Yanshan and Zhou Du lived day to day under the same roof. Had affection sprung up between them?
Gu Yanshan bowed low, pleading. Yet the number thirty‑seven years roared in his mind.
“Qingqing… you know my heart belongs to you alone. Did I not petition the Emperor himself to make you mine? My father and your kinsmen still turn cold looks upon me for it. Doubt not my love for you!”
Song Qingqing sensed danger. Seeing him so earnest, she yielded gracefully.
“I know your heart, Brother Yanshan. And mine is yours. A generous dowry was meant only to bring you honor.”
Gu Yanshan breathed easier. He wiped her tears gently. “That is my wise, dear Qingqing. Yet I serve in the Imperial Civil Service. My colleagues are mostly men of modest means. I do not wish to seem so far above them.”
“Zhou Du came with a procession miles long, gold and silver paving the road. Men still jest that I married a mountain of gold. If you arrive in equal splendor… they will shun me entirely.”
To Song Qingqing this sounded like he was protecting her keeping her from competing with the Principal Wife. She never guessed the true reason was silver.
“I understand, Brother Yanshan. I shall not cause you difficulty.” Zhou Du has bound him to her so quickly, she thought bitterly.
Hmph. Enjoy your triumph a little while longer. One month and I shall enter this house. Then I shall take back everything I have lost.
Gu Yanshan, unaware of her thoughts, felt an immense weight lift from his shoulders. Freed from crushing debt even partially was lightness itself.
I shall strive for merit and rewards, he vowed. I shall clear this debt before I turn thirty!