Chapter 7: The Art of Examination

It was another Start of Autumn. Unlike eight years ago, the heat dissipated impatiently on the very day of the solar term, and what swept in instead was an overwhelming chill and a continuous, drizzling rain.

In Songjiang Prefecture, at the Cheng residence, the vermilion-lacquered gatehouse stood with its blue-brick walls and dark-tiled roof. The two stone lions before the gate were polished to a shine, looking solemn and upright. The gatekeeper, a man surnamed Jiang with a round face and a thick beard, was kind and amiable to the commoners who came seeking medicine, making the household appear to be one of wealth and accumulated virtue.

The only drawback was the "barbarian gate"—narrow and small, forbidden from using golden pillars or facing south. It could only be opened surreptitiously like a worm boring a hole in a burrow. The imperial court was quite strict regarding the distinctions between officials and merchants, and officials and commoners; there were prohibitions not only on the number of courtyards but also on the width, color, material, and even the orientation of the main gate.

The Cheng family were merchants.

They were the largest medicinal herb merchants in Songjiang Prefecture, and indeed, in the entire Southern Zhili region.

It is said that seven or eight years ago, they even expanded their business to the capital, supplying the Imperial Academy of Medicine and the capital’s largest pharmacy, "Deshan Tang," with authentic herbs from the Jiangnan region, such as Suzhou peppermint, Huoshan dendrobium, prince ginseng, and toad venom.

What was even more rare was that the Cheng family had long been known for their great benevolence—the constant stream of voices seeking medicine at their gate was the best proof of this.

Not far from the main gate of the Cheng residence, a mule cart stood quietly. Before long, a young maid with double buns and dressed in cyan-green poked her head out: "Miss He, please come in."

From the mule cart, a young lady in an indigo-colored silver-striped gauze shirt stepped down slowly. Her skirt was the standard "five inches from the ground," which looked quite fashionable. The "drop of oil" hair ornament she used was made of silver—nothing rare—but it was adorned with two tiny pearls, adding a touch of elegance.

The young maid was somewhat dazzled, but she still lowered her head and led the way in a disciplined manner, guiding her around the covered walkways and the hanging flower gate, and into the rear rooms where the female family members resided.

Merchants were not permitted to live in "three-tier" courtyards, but where there is a policy, there is a countermeasure. Some residences would remove the third gate and build a long corridor and a screen wall to serve as a partition, maintaining a "pseudo-two-tier" layout.

The Cheng family was one such case.

The main room of the rear quarters was called "Zhimu," named after a medicinal herb. Bamboo curtains adorned with white jade pendants hung low, unmoved by the wind.

Having arrived at the destination, the young maid lingered at the doorway, scuffing her heels.

The young lady slipped her a piece of broken silver. The maid accepted it joyfully and lowered her voice, as if to comfort her: "Don't worry, Miss He. The Mistress has seen four or five young ladies, and none were as pretty as you."

The young lady glanced at the maid, her eyes downcast, her expression gentle and elegant: "I haven't had the chance to ask your name."

"My name is Huang Zhi; I am a second-class maid in the Mistress's room." The young maid smiled sweetly, though she secretly weighed the fingernail-sized piece of silver in her hand, feeling quite satisfied. She was a sensible one; the previous few had only given copper coins. Even if this piece of silver was smaller than a fingernail, a fly's leg was still meat.

The curtain was lifted from the inside, and a maid two or three years older than Huang Zhi came out to invite her in. After walking through the flower hall, she finally met the mistress of the Cheng household, Madam Duan.

Madam Duan, who had just passed the age of late spring, was leaning against a soft couch. Wearing tortoiseshell-rimmed crystal glasses and holding a piece of floral stationery, she peered over the frames, her eyelids lifting: "Miss He, your name is also quite unique—'Shanyue' (Mountain Moon)."

He Shanyue bowed slightly: "I come from the countryside of Suzhou. My parents both passed away early, and the name was bestowed upon me by the elders of the clan. They said that when I was born, a full moon rose over the green mountains, so they called me Shanyue."

Madam Duan put down the stationery and scrutinized He Shanyue without moving, as if suddenly waking from a dream: "Please, sit, please sit."

She immediately ordered tea to be served.

Whether it was an illusion or not, He Shanyue felt that Madam Duan's smile had become much more sincere.

Madam Duan took off her glasses, her expression kind: "It was hard work for you to travel all the way from Suzhou Prefecture to Songjiang Prefecture. Truth be told, Songjiang is small and lacks people; we have great expertise in business, but when it comes to painting and calligraphy, the Wu School is still the most prestigious. I heard from Sister-in-law Huang that in recent years, you have been helping several antique shops in Suzhou with both painting and appraisal, and you have quite an accomplishment in the field of art?"

"Accomplishment is too strong a word; I can just paint a few strokes," He Shanyue smiled. "Auntie Huang said your esteemed residence was looking for a female teacher to instruct in the art of painting, so I dared to recommend myself."

Madam Duan pursed her lips and smiled, two small dimples on her cheeks making her look young and kind: "In that case, Miss He, please help us appraise a few paintings we have recently acquired."

When hiring a teacher, one must always test their knowledge.

A maid brought up three paintings, well-preserved and exquisitely mounted.

He Shanyue walked forward, took a convex-concave crystal lens from her bosom, and slowly unfolded the first one.

It was Shen Huaizan's "Fishing at the Spring Creek Bridge."

The landscape of the previous dynasty favored the "half-corner" style, leaving the sky blank. A river, depicted from a bird's-eye view, ran through the Moganshan mountains. The miniature Xiangmao Pavilion and Xiyun Chamber were intricately carved, the brushwork powerful enough to penetrate the paper.

He Shanyue nodded and walked to the second one.

The second was unfolded.

He Shanyue paused for a moment, then walked to the third. After unfolding it, she smiled: all three were the same—all "Fishing at the Spring Creek Bridge," identical in every way, except for the ink being lighter; everything else was the same.

Madam Duan sipped her tea: "Three paintings. Which one do you think is real?"

"They are all good," He Shanyue said. "Painting and calligraphy are inseparable. Shen Huaizan was trained in the Guantao style; his brushwork is very forceful, capable of making the ink seep through to the table. Now that the Great Zhao is peaceful and prosperous, and the late Emperor was particularly fond of landscapes, the common people naturally follow the imperial lead, and the esteem for painting and calligraphy has grown higher. The works of masters are often dug up by antique shops, which then find ways to make money and sell them—a single landscape by Shen Huaizan is often cut into three pieces by these shops. The first piece has the thickest ink, the second is secondary, and the third has light ink and little ink, naturally making it the cheapest."

He Shanyue's smile was gentle: "But it cannot be denied that all three paintings were painted by Shen Huaizan. Congratulations, Madam Duan."

Madam Duan nodded slightly and clapped her hands, and the maid brought out another painting.

He Shanyue picked up the crystal lens and looked closely.

She spent a longer time on this painting, attending to every minute detail and every hair's breadth.

He Shanyue put down the crystal lens and looked at Madam Duan with soft, warm eyes: "This painting shows great effort in the brushwork, with grand and open landscapes; it is suitable for hanging in the inner hall."

"The inner hall?" Madam Duan frowned: "Do you mean it shouldn't be hung in the outer hall? Is this painting fake?"

He Shanyue lowered her eyes slightly: "Art is not judged by true or false."

Madam Duan changed her approach: "Several painters in Songjiang Prefecture have also seen it, and they all confirmed it is a genuine work by Zhou Bingshan. Our master even visited Zhou Bingshan in person, and the great Master Zhou did not define this painting as a forgery; he even wrote an inscription for it."

Madam Shi pointed out a place for He Shanyue.

He Shanyue read aloud: "This place is best for romance, the painting joins the beauties. Do not count the depths of the green clouds, it is truly like the immortals of the Luo River." She smiled modestly and shyly: "Please read the first character of each line together."