Kuni picked a few leaves from the mercy flax and chewed them. “Strange that a poison and its antidote would grow so close together.”
Jia nodded. “One of the principles of herbal lore is the prevalence of such pairings. The deadly seven-step snake of Faça nests in shady coves where the crying boy mushroom, which secretes an antivenom, likes to grow. The fiery salamander weed, a good, hot spice for cold winter nights, grows better next to the snowdrop, known for its power to relieve fevers. Creation seems to favor making friends of those destined to be enemies.”
Kuni pondered this. “Who knew that so much philosophy and wisdom could be hidden among weeds?”
“You’re surprised? Because the art of herbal healing is a women’s art, beyond the notice of real scholars and doctors?”
Kuni turned to Jia and bowed. “I spoke in ignorance. I meant no disrespect.”
Jia bowed back deeply in jiri. “You do not assume yourself to be better than anyone. That is the sign of a truly capacious mind.”
They smiled at each other and kept on walking.
“What is your favorite plant?” Kuni asked.
Jia thought for a moment and bent down to pluck a small flower with a full yellow crown. “They’re all dear to me, but I admire the dandelion the most. It is hardy and determined, adaptable and practical. The flower looks like a small chrysanthemum, but it’s much more resourceful and far less delicate. Poets may compose odes about the chrysanthemum, but the dandelion’s leaves and flowers can fill your belly, its sap cure your warts, its roots calm your fevers. Dandelion tea makes you alert, while chewing its root can steady a nervous hand. The milk of the dandelion can even be used to make invisible ink that reveals itself when mixed with the juice of the stone’s ear mushroom. It is a versatile and useful plant people can rely on.
“And it’s playful and fun.” She picked up a puff ball and blew at it, scattering the tiny feathered seeds into the air, a few of which landed in Kuni’s hair.
Kuni made no move to brush them away. “The chrysanthemum is a noble flower.”
“That’s true. It’s the last flower to bloom in autumn, defiant against winter. Its fragrance is exquisite, and overwhelms all competition. In tea, it awakens the spirit; in bouquets, it dominates the arrangement. But it is not a flower that endears.”
“You don’t care much about nobility?”
“I think true nobility is shown in far humbler ways.”
Kuni nodded. “Miss Matiza has a truly capacious mind.”
“Ah, flattery does not suit you, Master Garu,” Jia said, laughing. She turned serious after a moment. “Tell me, where do you think you’ll be in ten years?”
“I have no idea,” Kuni said. “All life is an experiment. Who can plan so far ahead? I just promise myself to do the most interesting thing every time there’s an opportunity. If I can stick to that promise most of the time, I’m sure in ten years I won’t have any regrets.”
“Why do you have to make a promise like that?”
“It’s very scary to do the most interesting thing when the chance arises. Most people don’t dare to do it — like bluffing your way into a party you aren’t invited to. But look how much more delightful my life is now. I got to know you.”
“The most interesting thing is often not the easiest thing,” Jia said. “There may be pain and suffering, disappointment and failure, for yourself and those you love.”
Kuni became serious too. “But without having endured bitterness, I don’t believe one will treasure sweetness as heartily as one should.”
She faced Kuni and put a hand on his arm. “I believe you will do great things.”
A warm feeling suffused Kuni’s heart. Until Jia, he realized, he had never met a woman who truly became his friend.
“Will I?” he asked, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth. “How do you know you’re not being fooled?”
“I’m too smart to be fooled,” she answered without hesitation, and they embraced, careless who saw.
Kuni felt like he was the luckiest man in the world. He had no money to pay her father a proper bride price, but he had to marry her.
“Sometimes the most interesting thing is also the most boring thing, the responsible thing,” Kuni said to himself.
He went to ask Cogo to get him a job in Zudi’s city government.
“You don’t know how to do anything,” Cogo said, his brows knit in a frown.
But a friend was in need, and Cogo inquired around until he found out that the Corvée Department needed a guard to watch the newly conscripted men and petty criminals sentenced to hard labor; they were kept in prison for a few nights until a full squad of them could be sent together to their work assignments. Once in a while, the guard might also be asked to escort the conscripts and prisoners on such journeys. This seemed a job that a trained monkey with a stick could do. Even Kuni shouldn’t be able to screw it up.
“I never quite pictured myself serving the emperor this way,” said Kuni, thinking of the corvée administrator who had, in a way, introduced him to Jia. He’d have to buy his future colleague a good meal to smooth over any hard feelings. “I’m not going to make up any ‘Prosperity Tax,’ though — well, not unless it’s someone very wealthy.”
“As long as you live frugally, you’ll be fine,” said Cogo. “The pay is very steady.”
Steady enough for Kuni to go to the money lenders and pledge his future income for a present sum so that he could go to Jia’s parents.
Gilo Matiza could not understand it. By all accounts, Kuni Garu was an indolent young man with no useful skills and no prospects. He had no money, no property, and until recently, no job — even his own family had thrown him out. He was also rumored to enjoy the company of loose women and had many girlfriends.
Why did his daughter, known to all the matchmakers as impossible to please, favor this man’s suit?
“I prefer to do the most interesting thing,” Jia said. And that was all the answer she would give him.
Nothing would dissuade her. Once her mind was made up, Jia’s will was iron. So Gilo had to at least listen to the young man.
“I know I don’t have a very good reputation,” said Kuni, who was sitting up very straight in mipa rari, his eyes focused on the tip of his nose. “But as the sagacious Lurusén once said, ‘The world is drunk; I alone am sober. The world is asleep, but I am awake.’ ”
Gilo was surprised. He did not expect a quote from Cocru classics. “What does that have to do with your suit?”
“The poet was speaking of the experience of sudden clarity after a life of doubt. Until I met Jia and you, I did not understand what the poem meant. Sir, a reformed man is worth ten men virtuous from birth, for he understands temptation and will strive the harder to not stray.”
Gilo softened. He had wanted to make a good match for Jia — a wealthy local merchant or a young scholar who had a good future in government — but this Kuni seemed learned and respectful, and that was something. Perhaps all the rumors about him were wrong.
Gilo sighed and accepted Kuni’s marriage proposal.
“I see you decided not to share your other reading of Lurusén’s poem with my father. I’m impressed: I could almost believe that speech back there.”
“It’s just like they say in the villages: ‘Howl when you see a wolf, scratch your head when you see a monkey.’ ”
“How many more of these readings do you have?”
“As many as the days we’ll have together.”