One of the more subtle ways the novel deals with power is through silence and absence. The most consequential struggles aren’t always the loud shouting matches over money or status. They're in the unspoken alliances, the strategic illnesses, the carefully timed visits, or the decision to simply not report something to the matriarch. Grandmother Jia's favor is the ultimate currency, and everyone from the concubines to the maids is constantly trading in it, but the transactions are rarely direct.
Take the episode where Wang Xifang, the senior maid, is framed for theft. On the surface, it's a domestic squabble. Underneath, it's a proxy war between different branches of the family testing the limits of their influence within the household's servant hierarchy, knowing that controlling information and personnel is real power. The actual matriarch, Madame Wang, and even Baoyu's mother, Lady Wang, wield power through networks of obligation and surveillance that feel more real than any official title.
It's exhausting to read at times, honestly. You start to see the paranoia in every polite greeting. The power isn't monolithic; it's capillary, seeping into every relationship until even childhood affection becomes a ledger of debts and credits.