A Hidden Guest

Picking up a piece of dough as afterthought, Suzhen went out of the kitchen.

Zheng Haoran was standing uncertainly at the path outside their gate, glancing around with vague menace the way a ruffled bull reared his head about looking for something to charge at. There was an unpleasant puffiness about his face and a certain sallowness about his cheeks, which hinted that he had been drinking the night before.

He caught sight of Suzhen and turned to her. "Ah, good morning, Madame Xu."

She bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Good morning. Are you looking for Xuxian?" she inquired politely. "I'm afraid he is out seeing a patient."

Zheng Haoran stood there irresolutely, breathing heavily. His clothes were somewhat disheveled and his hair hung in loose wisps about his face. Irritably, he rubbed roughly at his eyes, which looked slightly bloodshot.

"I--I'm, ah, looking for my wife. Did you happen to see Ziying anywhere?"

Suzhen opened her eyes wide in mild surprise. She shook her head, rolling the piece of dough between her hands absently. "No, I'm afraid not. I was in the kitchen the whole time. Did she come by?"

He shifted from one foot to the other, looking about restlessly. There was no one in sight on the path, and he was clearly considering how far she could have run during that short time.

"Maybe she did," Haoran said finally, looking very embarrassed. "She might have come by the house, maybe, and looked for you inside," he added lamely. His eyes travelled towards their home.

Suzhen opened her eyes wider, without questioning. "Oh, is that so? Perhaps that's the case, since I was in the kitchen. Do you want to come inside?"

Inside the urn, Madame Zheng caught her breath as her straining ears caught fragments of their conversation, then the squeak of the gate's hinges. She covered her mouth with her hand tightly and her hunched shoulders stiffened.

Looking even more embarrassed, Zheng Haoran nodded and shuffled in after her as she opened the gate. Suzhen went up to the house and opened the door, looking in. Haoran peered over her shoulder, frowning.

"Madame Zheng?" she called. "Are you there?"

The hut was empty.

She turned to him. "Ah, I'm afraid she isn't here after all." Her eyes fixed expectantly on him.

Haoran stood there rather stupidly, his eyes scanning the hut uncertainly, trying to see under the bed and behind the drying racks. He shrugged abruptly. "Looks like she isn't," he agreed bluntly. "Sorry to disturb you, Madame Xu. I'll be off then."

Suzhen followed him down the path, faintly apologetic. "You don't want some tea, or something?"

He waved her aside. "Uh, no. No, thank you. I'll be off."

She stood at the gate and watched as he went down the path, scratching his ear.

At last Suzhen returned to the kitchen. She put down the dough, swept aside the steamer, and lifted the wooden lid of the urn.

"He's gone," she said quietly. "Come out."

Madame Zheng crawled out, Suzhen helping her, and her knees folded unexpectedly. She sat down heavily on the kitchen floor looking pale and defeated. For a moment there was silence, then she looked up defiantly at Suzhen. "Well, I can't hide it any more, can I. You're laughing at me, aren't you? Admit it."

"Why should I?"

She brushed a hand across her face, suddenly weary. "Laughing at me for being so weak and pathetic. Look at me, hiding in this urn. What a ridiculous situation." She gave a short mirthless laugh. "And stupid! To have married a man like Zheng Haoran, and be so humiliated." She buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders heaved, just once, and she drew a deep shivering breath.

Suzhen was quiet, watching her.

Abruptly Zheng Ziying looked up, with hot burning eyes. "And of all people, you!" she spat savagely. "Why did it have to be you? Why not anyone else?"

Her head sank onto her knees, brooding, glowering.

"You and your husband, always so tender to each other. Showing the world how in love you are every moment." Her voice became hard and bitter. "I was sick of it, you know. I hate you. Oh, I know, I'm despicable, but I do hate you. So beautiful and so beloved. You didn't know a thing, everyone would agree that you were useless, yet somehow your husband still adored you, still stood up for you so staunchly. It wasn't fair. I was just as pretty--well, almost--when I married Haoran. I was the beauty of the village. Not that anyone would recognize me now. Oh, you'll smile, you're laughing at me again, but it's true."

"I know that," Suzhen said gently. "I heard it, from Huajun. She said you were very beautiful, and everyone thought you would marry an official."

Zheng Ziying made a sharp sound. "An official! If I had known how Zheng Haoran would turn out, I would have agreed to be Old Master Song's concubine, ancient though he be. At least I would have lived in comfort, and had my youth and beauty appreciated. Fool that I was, thinking I was marrying for love. He was charming enough then, and handsome too. If only I knew I was marrying a life of thankless drudgery and blows whenever he's drunk, or feeling sorry for himself."

She brushed impatiently at the burning tears in her eyes. "Well, now you know I hate you, and I don't have to pretend anymore. You can tell the others if you want. It's not like they can't guess, anyway. I know that people are whispering about us already. Haoran makes it no secret that he dislikes me."

Suzhen sat down opposite from her. She looked thoughtful. "You said he wasn't always like this. When did he start, then?"

"Oh, he was nice to me at first. We were happy. We were in love, just as you and Physician Xu are. He was proud of me, that I was pretty, he petted me and praised me." There was a lost expression in her eyes. "Then things started to go badly for him. The cow died. He was frustrated and turned to drinking. I hated that, I nagged him to stop, and he got angry at me for adding to his troubles. We fought every day, and I could see that he was losing interest in me. He would take other women, secretly at first, then defiantly. He said it was not his fault, I had lost all my beauty and had become tiresome to be around. I followed him to the brothel once, and saw him with a half-grown hussy on his lap, paying her the same compliments he had once paid me. I never followed him again."

Her face darkened.

She made a hopeless gesture with her hands. "He says that I make his life miserable with my nagging. Miserable! What's mine, then?"