I was born with a plain face. So, I bought a handsome convict-slave to be my husband. But he found me coarse and would rather work as a laborer than be my husband. When his conviction was overturned, he didn’t hesitate to climb into the carriage back to the capital. Before leaving, he even offered me a piece of advice: “Jane, a butcher is the most suitable match for someone of your station.” I figured a scholar must know what he’s talking about. So, I accepted a side of pork as a betrothal gift from the butcher next door. But on my wedding night, a different man lifted my veil. His face was a mask of fury as he demanded, “Who told you to marry him?” 1 The day I learned his name was Napier Crawley, I was sitting by the well, pondering how to convince him to finally be mine. It had been two years since I’d bought him, after all. Two years of wheedling and coaxing, using every trick in the book, hoping he’d finally give in and let me provide for him. But Napier was unmoved. Every time I brought it up, his answer was the same: “We are not a suitable match.” For two years, I’d wondered what he meant by “not suitable.” But he would never explain. He couldn't be bothered to speak to me. Just as I was at my wit’s end, the clattering of carriage wheels brought the answer to my doorstep. The next moment, Princess Annabelle pushed open my rickety old gate, a perfumed handkerchief pressed to her nose. When she saw the once-cool and aloof Grand Tutor, a man whose hands had never touched a speck of dirt, pushing a heavy stone mill, her beautiful eyes welled with tears. Napier had always lectured me about how a proper young woman should conduct herself with modesty and shame. But now, as Princess Annabelle threw herself into his arms, he seemed to forget all his own lessons. He just stood there, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air. After a moment, he finally shook off his shock and looked down at the woman in his embrace. “Annabelle?” he asked, his voice uncertain. Princess Annabelle nodded, tears of joy streaming down her face. “It’s me, Napier. I’ve come to take you home.” They stared at each other, lost in their own world, as if the donkey and I didn’t exist. To assert my own presence, I stepped forward and tugged on the princess’s silky sleeve. “Excuse me, miss,” I said helpfully, “but you’re hugging the wrong man. This is my husband.” Only then did Princess Annabelle seem to notice me. “Husband?” she repeated, her voice laced with doubt. When I nodded, she turned to Napier, her face a mask of shock. “Napier,” she stammered, “you’re… married?” And that’s how I learned his name was Napier. For two years, he had refused to tell me what it was. Naturally, Napier denied it. “No. She is… merely my employer.” I felt a twinge of guilt at his denial. He was right; he had never once agreed to be my husband. When my mother had first threatened him—either be my husband or be our laborer—he had walked out the door without a second thought, his body still weak from illness, and started pushing that stone mill. Over the past two years, I’d tried everything—threats, bribes, you name it. But he simply would not marry me. Now, hearing Napier’s denial, Princess Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief. She looked me up and down with disdain. “You coarse wench,” she said slowly, “how dare you covet the Grand Tutor of the court?” Her accusation stung. When I bought Napier, he was just an exiled convict. I had no idea he was a Grand Tutor. Besides, officials exiled to our remote corner of the world almost never returned to the capital. Who could have guessed Napier would be the first? Napier paid no mind to her insults. He simply looked at me and said, “Miss Jane, I’m afraid I won’t be able to work today.” 2 Insults or not, when dinner time came, the noble Princess Annabelle found herself sitting at the same table as this “coarse country wench.” My furniture was small and rough, and the princess complained endlessly. “Napier, this chair is so uncomfortable. Let’s just go back to the inn in town.” Napier smiled. I’d never seen him, a man as cold as ice, actually smile before. But there was a hint of sorrow in it. “I have sat in chairs like this for two years,” he said quietly. The disdain on Annabelle’s face was immediately replaced by a wave of heartbreak. She was so beautiful that even her scorn was endearing. Trying to lighten the mood, I chimed in. “And I’ve sat in chairs like this for eighteen years!” Napier never deigned to speak to me, and this time was no different. But Princess Annabelle shot me a mocking smirk. “And what if you sat in them for twenty? A lowly creature like you was born to sit in crude chairs.” I lowered my head in embarrassment, but under the table, I saw my mother’s fist clench and unclench. She had never liked Napier because he refused to marry me, but tonight, she remained silent. After a moment, Napier spoke, his voice formal. “You bought me when I was at my lowest. For these past years, I have worked from sunrise to sunset in your home. I believe my labor has repaid your kindness. We are even. We owe each other nothing.” With that, he stood and gave my mother a slight bow. Then he turned to leave with Princess Annabelle. In a panic, I moved to stop him, but my mother grabbed my arm. We listened as the carriage wheels clattered away into the distance. Only then did she sigh. “My daughter, give it up. I told you long ago, he is not one of us.” She had said the same thing the day I bought him. But I hadn’t listened. I had inherited my mother’s weakness for a handsome face. When the soldiers brought the convicts to town for sale, my eyes had locked on the thin, frail form of Napier in the crowd. His eyes were beautiful. One fleeting glance from him was enough to make my face burn. The day I brought him home, he collapsed from illness. The town doctor said he was barely clinging to life. As I paid the doctor, my mother sighed and cursed me for being a fool, for buying a sickly money pit who was clearly not our kind. I never imagined he was a noble Grand Tutor. I never imagined he would despise the idea of being my husband so much. And I certainly never imagined that he would one day leave this desolate place. And so, just like that, Napier was gone. That night, I lay in bed, staring at the bright moon, unable to sleep. Restless, I felt a piece of paper under my pillow. It was Napier’s indenture contract, the characters on it like little worms. I had to return it to him. So, before the sun was up the next morning, I clutched the contract and headed out the door. 3 The inn where Napier was staying was a long walk away. I didn’t dare rest for a moment on the road. I managed to arrive just before the roosters began to crow. The inn was strictly managed; a commoner like me couldn't just walk in. I had to ask the old man at the gate to announce me. I waited outside, nearly dozing off, before Napier finally emerged with Princess Annabelle, moving at a leisurely pace. His brow furrowed when he saw me. “What are you doing here again?” Princess Annabelle demanded. I glanced at Napier, feeling awkward and out of place. He had changed into fine clothes that matched the princess’s, a world away from the man who pushed a mill in my yard. Standing before him, I suddenly found it hard to breathe. It was in that moment that I finally understood what he meant by “suitable.” He and Princess Annabelle looked right together, far more so than he and I ever could. After a long pause, I finally managed to stammer, “I… I came to see when you were leaving.” Princess Annabelle rolled her eyes. “When we leave is none of your business, you little opportunist.” I didn’t know when I had become an opportunist. Napier cut her off. “We are leaving shortly,” he said, his tone flat. Hearing that, a wave of disappointment washed over me. Napier noticed. He spoke one last time, his voice firm with rejection. “I told you a long time ago that I would not be your husband. Go home. Do not follow me again.” I had heard those words from him countless times before, but they had never sounded so harsh. Heartbroken, I felt the indenture contract in my sleeve. As Napier was about to board the carriage, I called out, “Wait. Just a moment.” He looked at me, puzzled, while Annabelle was clearly impatient. “You damn peasant, what is it now?” I held out the contract. “This is yours. You left it behind.” Annabelle snatched it first, handing it to a skeptical Napier. When he saw what it was, the tight line of his brow relaxed. Then, as I watched, he tore it into pieces. “I am a free man now. This contract is useless to me.” I stared blankly at the fluttering scraps of paper. Napier’s tone softened slightly. “Thank you for making the trip. You should head back. We must be on our way.” It was the first time he had ever spoken to me with such gentleness. As he turned to leave, I called out again. “Wait.” “What is it now?” I wrung my hands. “It cost me five taels of silver to buy you.” He paused, then turned to Annabelle, his voice back to its usual cool tone. “Annabelle, give her five taels of gold.” Annabelle pulled a gold ingot from her purse with a look of disgust and tossed it on the ground in front of me. As I bent to pick it up, the carriage rolled past. Napier lifted the curtain and spoke to me one last time. “Jane, with your station in life, a butcher would be the most suitable match. Do not aspire to anything else.” It was the first time he had ever used my name. As soon as he finished, Annabelle’s mocking laughter drifted from the carriage. “Did you hear that, you peasant? Stop dreaming of climbing the social ladder. It’s not for people like you.” She was wrong about me again. I didn’t want Napier as a husband because I wanted to climb some social ladder. When I bought him, he was just a disgraced criminal. I liked him because he was handsome. But what good was a handsome face? A man as lofty as him would never deign to look me in the eye. The carriage clattered into the distance. I stood there for a long time, until the carriage was completely out of sight, before I finally started the long, aching walk home. As I turned into my alley, I saw my mother waiting for me at the door. I was sure she was going to scold me for leaving without telling her, without grinding the day’s tofu. But she didn’t say a word. She just sighed. “There’s food for you on the stove.” Her quiet kindness made me feel even more guilty. My mother’s most frequent lecture was, “My dear Jane, don’t be like your mother. When you choose a man, never choose for his looks. Find one who is strong, who can bear a burden.” She said this not because my handsome father had wronged her, but because not long after I was born, my handsome, but frail, father had passed away. The day I’d gone to buy Napier, she had given me five taels of silver with strict instructions. “Two taels for the man, two for a donkey, and one for the beans. And make sure the man is sturdy. Don’t just look at his face.” I had betrayed her trust. I’d spent all five taels on the pale, weak Napier. But it wasn’t a total loss. I felt the hard lump of gold in my sleeve. Five silver taels for five gold ones wasn’t a bad trade. 4 After Napier left, the task of grinding tofu fell to me. The donkey, which I had bought specifically for Napier, finally got a rest. I was strong enough to push the mill for hours on end by myself; I didn’t need an animal. Before Napier, I had always done it myself. After he arrived, the mill turned at a snail’s pace. I had offered to do the work myself, but he had insisted on doing it to avoid being my husband. He thought too poorly of me. I wanted to marry him, yes. But I wasn’t the kind of opportunist Annabelle thought I was. I would try to persuade him, but I would never force him. I couldn’t bear to see his beautiful hands get calloused and raw, so I used my own savings to buy the donkey. Now, the donkey was no longer needed. My mother thought I would be heartbroken after Napier left. But I wasn’t. I worked just as hard as I had before he came, even harder. I used to make two blocks of tofu a morning; now I could make three and a half. My mother watched me pushing the mill day after day, her heart aching for me. At dinner, she tried to comfort me. “My dear, don’t worry. Mother will find you an even handsomer man, much better looking than that bean sprout.” I took a bite of pickled vegetables. “Mother,” I said, “I don’t want a handsome man anymore.” Her hand, holding her chopsticks, froze. “Then what kind of man do you want? Whatever you want, Mother will find him for you.” I tilted my head, thinking for a moment. “Find me a butcher,” I said. “That way, we’ll have meat to eat every day.” I lied to my mother. I didn't want to marry a butcher for the meat. I had asked the children at the town school what a Grand Tutor was. They told me it was a very, very high-ranking official, one who had to be incredibly well-read. So Napier was a man of great learning. In that case, his words must be true. Marrying a butcher would be the most suitable path for me. My mother worked fast. Two days later, she brought the village matchmaker, Mrs. Wong, to our house. Mrs. Wong’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Jane, there’s a butcher in the next village. Are you interested?” I nodded without a second thought. The next afternoon, Mrs. Wong brought the butcher to our house. It was the first time I had spent time with a man other than Napier, and I felt incredibly awkward. But when I saw him, I realized he was someone I already knew. 5 After Napier came to our home, we started selling our tofu at the town market. He despised hawking our wares door-to-door, preferring to walk the extra miles to town rather than push a cart through the neighboring villages, shouting. I met Cole at the market. He sold pork at the stall opposite ours. Napier was aloof, and he sold tofu with the same aloofness. He hated the old women who picked through his wares and despised the matrons who haggled over the price. As a result, we often had tofu left over at the end of the day. One day, it rained. We had a lot of tofu left, and we were struggling to move it under the eaves. Some of it was getting soaked. That’s when Cole came to our rescue. He was a butcher, and years of work had given him a powerful build. In a few swift movements, he had moved our baskets and everything else to shelter. It was the first time I truly understood the value of my mother’s advice. A strong body really was a good thing. Now, seeing him again, Cole was even more nervous than I was. He didn't know what to do with his hands. When I offered him water, he said it was the best water he’d ever tasted. When I invited him to sit on the edge of the heated brick bed, he said it was the most comfortable seat he’d ever sat on. His earnest, bumbling manner made me laugh. Seeing me laugh, he scratched his head in embarrassment. “I’m not very good with words. I’m sorry if I made a fool of myself.” “No, no,” I quickly reassured him. “I wasn’t laughing at you.” … We fell into a companionable silence. After a moment, Cole suddenly remembered he had brought something for me. He pulled a small packet of malt candy from his pocket and pushed it across the table. “It’s our first meeting. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just bought some candy. I see the other girls in town eating it.” The candy was wrapped neatly in oil paper. It was a thoughtful gesture. I unwrapped a piece and popped it in my mouth. Seeing me eat his candy, Cole broke into a wide, happy grin. He was so simple and honest. I couldn’t deceive him. So I told him the truth. “I was married before,” I said. “You saw him in town, the one who sold tofu with me. He was a high-ranking official from the capital who was convicted of a crime. I bought him.” “But he found me coarse and didn’t want to live with me. His case was overturned a few days ago, and he has returned to the capital.” Most men would have been put off by such a story. But Cole just kept smiling his simple, honest smile. “It’s alright,” he said. “It’s good that he’s gone.” I was surprised. “You don’t mind?” Cole’s smile was shy. “As long as you don’t mind that I’m rough.” Just as we were getting along well, Mrs. Wong knocked on the window. “Cole, it’s time to go.” Cole stood up, looking at me, wanting to say more. But with Mrs. Wong hurrying him, he finally turned to leave. Just as he was about to step out the door, I called out to him. “Cole, this candy is delicious. Bring some more next time you come.” The disappointment in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a bright light. “Okay, okay,” he nodded eagerly. He must have been overjoyed, because he tripped on the threshold on his way out. Watching his earnest, bumbling figure look back at me three times as he left, I couldn’t help but laugh.
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