Page 62 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

“I will,” said Ting-zhi.

“First,” Cheng-yi said, holding up one finger, “apologize immediately.”

“It has been nine days.”

“Immediately was nine days ago. Now your friend has to salvage the situation, which is harder but not impossible.” He took another thoughtful bite of his cake. “Second: gifts.”

“Gifts.”

“My second sister cannot stay angry at anyone who gives her jewelry.” He paused for a moment. “For my fifth sister, it is candied hawthorn.”

“I don’t think candied hawthorn—”

“Not hawthorn specifically. Something she wants. Something she’s mentioned wanting and doesn’t have yet.” Cheng-yi passed a pastry to him. “The gift has to say I was listening. Not I am sorry. I was listening. There’s a difference.”

Ting-zhi was quiet for a moment. “That’s not bad,” he said.

“Five sisters,” Cheng-yi said modestly. “Third: woo her.”

“Woo her,” Ting-zhi repeated.

“Speak gently. Soft words, softer tone. My eldest brother-in-law,” Cheng-yi said, with the gravity of a man recounting a cautionary tale, “made the mistake of trying to out-argue my eldest sister when she was angry. He is still, to this day, sleeping in the east wing.”

“How long ago was this.”

“Three months,” Cheng-yi said. “The east wing is very comfortable now. He has redecorated.”

“Noted,” said Ting-zhi. “No arguing.”

“No arguing, no explaining yourself before she is ready to hear it, and absolutely no telling her she is being unreasonable even if and when she is being unreasonable.” He pauseddelicately. “Fourth.” He leaned forward slightly and whispered conspiratorially. “There is an old saying, ‘Fight at the head of the bed, reconcile at the foot of the bed’.”

A silence.

“Cheng-yi,” Ting-zhi said.

“It is time-honored wisdom,” Cheng-yi said, entirely unabashed. “A balance of Yin and Yang creates harmony. It has been true since the beginning of time and it will be true until the end of it. I did not invent this wisdom, I merely pass it on.”

“We are not—” Ting-zhi stopped. “My friend is not yet—”

“The wedding is in what, one, two months?” Cheng-yi said, selecting another pastry with serenity. “Tell your friend to be patient. The principle still applies.”

Ting-zhi picked up his teacup. Put it down. Picked it up again.

“My fifth sister,” Cheng-yi added, after a moment, “says that what women want most, when they’re angry, is to know that the person who upset them actually understands why. Not just sorry. Sorry is easy. Understanding is harder.”

“Your fifth sister sounds wise.”

“She is,” Cheng-yi agreed, with great affection. “You’d like her.” He paused. “She’s eleven, but still.”

Ting-zhi looked at him incredulously.

“Sisters,” Cheng-yi shrugged.

“What else,” Ting-zhi asked hesitantly. “More advice. I shall relate them to my friend.”

Cheng-yi brightened. “My second brother-in-law once bought my sister an entire cartload of fabric to apologize for forgetting her birthday. She was furious.”

“Why?”