THE YOUNG MARSHAL’S CINNABAR MOLE CHAPTER 2
Chapter 2: I treat you as a friend, yet you want to be my mother. Cannot tolerate it!
The dark clouds dispersed, revealing the sun hidden behind them, gathering strength to shine upon everything. As she drank the thick, soft porridge, Tang Jiao pondered how Lu Qianqian and her father maintained their connection. Was it merely through tutoring?
But if that were so, she herself would be present during tutoring, and her mother would sometimes bring fruit and snacks. She and her mother could not possibly have sensed nothing.
There must be another method of contact between them.
Tang Dongxue wore a lake-green qipao, her hair coiled completely at the back. In her bun was only a jade hairpin, like an ancient maid stepping down from a painting, bright and graceful. Holding a milky-white carved bowl, she lifted a spoonful of porridge to Tang Jiao’s lips and spoke softly. “Not drinking your porridge properly, what are you thinking about?”
旗袍 (qípáo) - traditional Chinese dress, commonly associated with elegance and femininity in early 20th-century China.
“I was thinking that lying in bed is rather boring. In a while I plan to go to Father’s study to find a couple of books to read.”
Tang Jiao avoided her mother’s gaze. She feared her mother might notice something amiss, so she tried not to reveal any flaw, replying in the manner of her younger self.
“Then let Han-ma accompany you. Only, do not tire yourself.”
“Mama may rest assured. It is only to find a book.”
In the study, Tang Jiao sent Han-ma away and began searching for letters related to Lu Qianqian. The textbooks they used for lessons, the letters in the letter holder, the drawers of the desk, even the books on the shelves, she examined one by one.
Yet she found nothing.
“Where could it be? Could it be among the things Lu Qianqian usually gave me?”
She sat in her father’s chair, her lips pressed tightly into a straight line. Then she gave a mocking smile. It was not impossible that Lu Qianqian used her as a bridge to contact her father.
Lu Qianqian had been her close friend at Maria Girls’ School. She treated Lu Qianqian like an elder sister. She had never imagined Lu Qianqian wanted to become her Mama.
Then again, her father was the most popular teacher of classical literature at Maria Girls’ School. He was dignified in appearance and elegant in bearing. It was not surprising for young girls to harbor springtime feelings.
For the two of them to be together under the pretext of tutoring was already disgraceful enough. Her father was clearly a son-in-law who had entered the Tang family. What right did he have to take a concubine? He ate Mama’s food, drank Mama’s tea, and even his employment had been arranged by her uncle.
Moreover, Lu Qianqian was only two months older than she was, and also her friend. Her father truly had the heart to do such a thing.
“Han-ma,” Tang Jiao said, casually picking up a book from the desk as a pretense, “have them gather together everything Lu Qianqian has given me. Even the clothes she once tried on should be collected.”
“Ah, but Miss, Miss Lu once borrowed your homework to copy. Should that be found as well?” Han-ma followed closely behind her, her plump figure moving without the slightest clumsiness.
Tang Jiao stopped before the desk in her own room, turning in her hand a brush holder Lu Qianqian had given her. Sunlight coated her in a layer of golden radiance, as if a celestial maiden had descended from the Ninth Heaven.
She gently loosened her fingers. Before the frightened eyes of the maids who had just hurried in, the brush holder fell to the floor, splitting into eight pieces with a dull sound.
Mockery rose upon her pretty face. Her eyes stared fixedly at Han-ma. Han-ma quickly handed over a handkerchief. Tang Jiao took it and carefully wiped the fingers that had touched the brush holder, saying indifferently, “The floor is too hard. Replace it with carpets. Han-ma, have them move faster. Whatever Lu Qianqian has touched, regardless of what it is, find it all.”
The little maids shrank their necks and silently hid behind Han-ma, like a group of startled chicks with fluffed feathers.
炸毛的小鸡仔 (zhá máo de xiǎo jīzǎi)- chicks with fluffed feathers; meaning: small, frightened, or startled children or people; conveys fear and timidity.
The sun hung high in the sky and gradually moved westward. The maids worked quickly, as though wishing for three heads and six arms so they could escape the room sooner. Before long, they had gathered three large boxes filled to the brim.
Tang Jiao sat alone among the boxes, patient, searching through them piece by piece. She found nothing.
“Ring, ring, ring.” The telephone sounded downstairs. Her mother’s voice followed. “Ah, Qianqian has gone out, yes. Baisong will return tonight. Let him take a look at the child. No trouble at all. After dinner, I will send the child back.”
Tang Jiao placed the notebook in her hands back into the box. With a snap, she closed the lid. She would give Lu Qianqian a grand gift. Before that, she had to pretend to be her former foolish self.
She picked up The Count of Monte Cristo, which her elder brother had specially asked someone to bring from France, and lay on the bed reading, quietly waiting for Lu Qianqian to arrive.
The summer wind, tinged with the taste of salt, drifted slowly through the window. It brushed past the soft princess bed, lingered briefly at the couch by the wall, and, just as it seemed about to slip into the bookcase filled with books, was drawn away by the opening door and rushed out joyfully.
Tang Jiao, absorbed in her book, raised her head and saw Lu Qianqian standing in the doorway. She wore a new-style hairstyle. A fine layer of white powder covered her oval face. Her European-style school uniform made her chest appear full and her waist slender. She stood there prettily.
“Jiao’er, are you well now?” Lu Qianqian greeted her warmly. Seeing the white carpet spread across the floor, she kicked off her shoes and walked in barefoot.
With practiced familiarity, she sat at the side of Tang Jiao’s bed, not the slightest trace of restraint in another person’s home. She reached out to take Tang Jiao’s hand, carefully examining her complexion and asking about her illness.
The moment their hands touched, goosebumps spread over Tang Jiao’s body. She endured the discomfort and the urge to fling her hand away, suppressing the hatred in her heart. Her round eyes curved into crescents with a smile as she answered each question in order, just as she had before.
Lu Qianqian looked around the room and said with pursed lips and a smile, “It seems your illness is truly better. You even have the leisure to arrange your room. It is much plainer than before.”
“I was too young before, didn’t understand things,” Tang Jiao sat up. “Qianqian-jie, did you bring the exam papers I asked you to bring? You must have done very well in the monthly exam, right?”
Though Lu Qianqian was an only daughter, the tuition at Maria Girls’ School was expensive. The Lu family supported her schooling in hopes that a sparrow might become a phoenix. Thus in every examination she had to take first place to show off.
麻雀变凤凰 (máquè biàn fènghuáng) - sparrow becomes phoenix; rise in status
In this monthly examination, the foreign-language paper had been the most difficult, and foreign language happened to be her weakness. Tang Jiao clearly remembered that Lu Qianqian had lost by only a few points, breaking her record of complete victories and missing the scholarship for that term.
Sure enough, Lu Qianqian’s eyes flickered as she avoided answering. She opened her schoolbag. “I asked Teacher Tonier for a brand-new examination paper for you.”
Tang Jiao’s sharp eyes noticed that besides the paper there was also a notebook in the bag. Taking the paper, she asked, “Many thanks, Qianqian-jie. Are you planning to submit something to the newspaper? You carry a notebook with you.”
“How could I have that talent?” Lu Qianqian lowered her head, rubbing the notebook with her fingers. A shy expression, seen only on a woman in love, appeared on her face. “This is homework for Teacher Wang.”
Homework? Something only the two of them would see.
Tang Jiao narrowed her eyes and probed, “Father truly is the same as always, leaving homework every day. These teachers of classical learning are all alike, copying and memorizing, nothing new. Let me see what homework Father has assigned this time.”
Lu Qianqian’s fingers stiffened. “This…” She quickly regained composure and handed the homework to Tang Jiao, appearing open and composed. “ Just a few small poems. I wonder when Teacher Wang will return?”
“He will probably return by dinner,” Tang Jiao said, taking the homework and flipping through it casually. It was all passages of classical prose copied out, along with several poems. Nothing seemed unusual.
Could this homework truly not be the token they used to communicate?
No. From the corner of her eye, she observed Lu Qianqian sitting with her back straight, hands clasped together unnaturally, her gaze drifting toward the exercise book from time to time.
The current Lu Qianqian was still a bit too green, not even one ten-thousandth of what she would become later. Whatever was on her mind could be seen from traces on her face. How had she been so foolish in her previous life? Something so obvious, yet she failed to see it.
太嫩了点 (tài nèn le diǎn) — still too green / inexperienced
At the time she had trusted her completely. Those clumsy, exaggerated explanations and excuses, yet she had believed them as truth, even foolishly begging her Mama to let Lu Qianqian enter the household.
Unable to resist scolding her past self for being foolish to the point of steaming with stupidity, Tang Jiao steadied her mind. Turning to the last poem in the homework notebook, she put on a deeply intoxicated expression and read it aloud. Lu Qianqian’s pretty face flushed red, looking as though she could hardly sit still, reaching out to snatch it.
“Qianqian-jie, I haven’t finished reading yet. Don’t be in such a hurry.”
Tang Jiao hid the exercise book behind her back, silently reciting the poem several times. A flash of insight crossed her mind. Lu Qianqian loved deduction most of all. The copy of Hongloumeng on Father’s desk, worn from repeated turning, must surely be connected to it.
《红楼梦》 (Hongloumeng) - Dream of the Red Chamber, a classic Chinese novel often associated with hidden meaning and coded writing.
Though Lu Qianqian appeared delicate and weak, her strength far exceeded that of Tang Jiao, who was still recovering from illness. In one motion she pressed Tang Jiao onto the bed, trying to seize the exercise book in her hand.
Tang Jiao cried out repeatedly, “ Ai-yo, ai-yo! My good elder sister, your younger sister has only just recovered from serious illness and cannot bear such weight. Let me read this exercise first. When Father returns tonight, I will give it back to you.”
Hearing this, Lu Qianqian could no longer forcefully snatch it away. She turned instead to pick up the book by Tang Jiao’s bedside. A trace of concern flickered in her eyes.
“I remember Jiao-er, you disliked French most. How is it that you are reading The Count of Monte Cristo?”
“My brother stuffed it into my hands. But when I read about Edmond carefully planning, step by step forcing his enemies into a desperate corner, somehow I became fascinated.”
“Heh…”
Her hand behind her back gripped the exercise book tightly. The corners of Tang Jiao’s lips lifted into a half-smile. Her dark pupils looked toward Lu Qianqian.
“Qianqian-jie, you should read it too. When facing jackals, wolves, and tigers around you who harbor ill intent toward you, one must know what to do.”
豺狼虎豹 (chái láng hǔ bào) - jackals, wolves, tigers, leopards; dangerous people
Lu Qianqian frowned and awkwardly put the book down, her face turning cold.
“I do not like reading French books. They are tiring. Besides, how could there be so many bad people in this world?”
Laughter shimmered in Tang Jiao’s eyes. The present Lu Qianqian revealed her flaws too easily and lacked composure. She still thought Tang Jiao was the little girl who could be coaxed into circles.
Tang Jiao straightened her body and waved the exercise book in her hand, as though unaware of anything unusual, her expression innocent and charming.
“It is getting late. Let us go to the study to wait for Father. I can look over Qianqian-jie’s homework while we are there.”
“Let’s go.”
Holding Lu Qianqian’s hand, she walked lightly to the study, appearing to study as usual. Her mother personally brought fresh fruit and reminded Tang Jiao not to tire herself, since her health had not yet fully recovered.
Tang Jiao smiled in response. As if casually, she pressed the exercise book beneath her arm, then picked up Hongloumeng from Father’s desk and began flipping through it with great interest.
Fortunately, her memory had always been good. After reading it once, she had already memorized the poem. Now she no longer needed to look, giving Lu Qianqian the illusion that she had discovered nothing.
She calmed herself and calculated silently, carefully matching the two texts, determined to find their connection.
Just as her eyes suddenly lit up and she finally discovered the pattern, recognizing the love letter Lu Qianqian had written, there came a sharp pa sound. Bright light quickly filled the room.
The person at the door spoke:
“Why not turn on the lamp? You will ruin your eyes.”
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